Nothing had changed
I stepped into the flat in a buoyant mood, a box of cake cradled in my hands a cake bought especially for Mum and Nigel.
From deep within the flat faint music drifted, underscored by muffled voices.
My name, spoken by my stepdad, made me freeze in the hallway.
How many more years am I supposed to endure your Poppy? Nigels tone was sharp. Shes a bone lodged in my throat.
I held my breath, pressed against the wall. My heart thumped so loudly I imagined they could hear it.
Dont get worked up. Let her pay for my jubilee and then well see. In the meantime, keep your voice as low as a mouses, he snarled.
The words stole my breath away. My fingers clenched the cardboard so hard the box nearly flattened.
So thats what they wanted from me, I thought, a cold shiver running through me.
I slipped toward the exit, trying to stay unseen. The moment the door shut behind me, I practically tumbled down the stairs.
Outside the sun shone just as brightly, but the world suddenly lost its colour.
I sank slowly onto a bench in the park opposite the houses. The cake box rested on my knees and I stared at it, trying to make sense of what had happened.
Five years of silence
Five long years I hadnt set foot in my parents house. I hadnt heard Mums voice or seen her face.
Now, a phone call and an invitation to a jubilee.
Nigel entered our lives when I was fifteen a skinny boy with a sly squint and a perpetual grin.
Poppy! he would shout, winking at Mum. Our lithe little thing, skin and bone, shell be whisked away by the first wind!
Mum laughed at his jokes, watching him as if he were reciting humanitys greatest truths.
Nigel, youre a character! shed clap. What a joker!
I sat with my eyes down, trying to become invisible.
Mum, hes overstepping, I finally blurted one day.
Oh, stop being a child, she brushed off. Its just jokes.
Each day Mum drifted further from me, as if an invisible wall rose between us. I clung to memories of Dad, who had always protected me and believed in me. He had been gone two years, but he had arranged a monthly allowance for my education. My dream was to finish school, move to London, and get into university to start a new life away from Nigel and his jokes that turned my world upsidedown.
I believed. I waited.
Graduation
After the prom night I felt as if I were soaring. School was behind me; ahead lay the new life Id longed for.
When I opened the flats door, I was taken aback. Around the celebratory table sat about ten strangers.
The air smelled of roast and something sweet. Glasses clinked, laughter roared.
Nigel, perched at the head of the table with Mum beside him, was the first to spot me.
Ah, our graduate finally graces us! he boomed. Come over, beautiful! Lets toast to a double celebration your school leaving and my new boat!
I walked timidly to the table. Someone shuffled aside, making room.
Ladies and gentlemen, Nigel announced, gesturing. This is Poppy, my stepdaughter. Ive poured my heart into her as if she were my own!
His friends nodded, and I stood there, fork in hand, while memories rushed past: him making me wash his car in the frost, mocking my grades, insisting Id end up selling at the market after school.
Poppys a bit slow, Nigel continued. Shes just finished school. Shell go to work, wont she, love?
I stayed silent, poking at my salad.
Come on, Nigel, a guest laughed. Let the girl study.
What will she study? Nigel narrowed his eyes. Works more important now. Ive already spoken to Mr. Harris shell be a sales assistant in his shop. Standing behind a counter isnt exactly Newtons law.
The table erupted in laughter, and I felt a storm brewing inside me.
Betrayal
When Mum slipped off to the kitchen, I followed.
Mum, I need to talk, I whispered.
She seemed a little tipsy, eyes glittering, movements loose.
Whats on your mind? she asked, stacking plates clumsily.
Im applying to university in London, my voice trembled. I need the money from my account.
Mum froze, then turned slowly.
What money? she frowned.
The money Dad set aside for my education, I repeated.
Oh, that, she waved a hand as if it were trivial. Theres no more.
The world tilted.
How can there be none? I whispered. There was
Its gone, she cut in. Nigel needed it for his boat and the feast we threw.
I looked at her, barely recognizing the mother who used to read me bedtime stories.
You spent my money? I couldnt believe my ears.
Technically it was in my account, Mum shrugged. Nigel does so much for us. He deserves a boat and a holiday.
At that moment Nigel stormed into the kitchen.
Poppy! he shouted. Ive sorted things with Mr. Harris. From Monday youll be a cashier in his shop! He laughed loudly, pleased with himself.
I turned and slipped out of the kitchen, heading to my bedroom. With trembling hands I rummaged through drawers and boxes, searching for Dads gifts gold earrings, a chain with a pendant, Grandmas ring. I found them hidden at the bottom of an old shoe box, untouched.
Nigel hadnt reached them. It would be enough for the first few months in London.
I sat on the bed, looking at Dads photo on the nightstand.
Ill manage, Dad, I whispered. I promise.
Unexpected call
Five years flew by like a single day. London greeted me with rain, fog, and new friendships. University, a night job in a café, a dorm room with a flatmate named Molly.
Life settled, and I tried not to dwell on the past.
Early on a Tuesday morning my phone rang an unknown number. I rarely answer such calls, but something made me press the green button.
Hello?
Poppy! Darling! Its so good to hear your voice!
I stayed silent, gathering my thoughts.
Are you there? she asked. Poppy, can you hear me?
Yes, I replied shortly. I hear you.
How are you? Hows life? Her tone was unusually gentle. I miss you, you cant imagine!
Five years I didnt think of you and now youre suddenly nostalgic, I thought.
Everythings fine, I answered dryly. Studying, working.
Good for you! she exclaimed. Im gearing up for my jubilee. Ill be fifty soon, can you believe it?
Id love for you to come, she said.
I almost laughed at the surprise.
Seriously? After everything?
Oh, stop dwelling on the past, she replied, a hint of irritation returning. People make mistakes.
Im sorry for everything. I want us to be a family again.
I closed my eyes; Nigels smug face flashed before me.
Is Nigel also expecting me? I asked.
Of course! He asks about you all the time. He worries, she answered too quickly.
Alright, I said, surprising myself. Ill come.
Really? her voice softened with genuine surprise. When can I expect you?
In a week, I think.
After the call I stared out the window, wondering why Id agreed. What was I hoping to find? Part of me wanted to see Mum, perhaps she had truly changed.
A week later I stood on the doorstep of the family flat. Mum opened the door and threw her arms around me.
Darling! Look how youve grown! Absolutely beautiful! she babbled.
We sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea, and Mum chatted about neighbours, her life, and so on. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added:
My jubilee is coming up, but Im flat broke, she said, eyes downcast.
Itd be nice to celebrate properly, not like a paupers party. Nigel you know he isnt exactly generous.
I took her hand, looked into her eyes.
Dont worry, Mum. Ill take care of it.
Settling the score
After a quiet moment on a bench, I straightened my back and walked back into the house with resolve.
Theyll get what they deserve, I promised myself.
I slammed the flats door shut loudly enough for everyone inside to hear.
A moment later Mum emerged, a strained smile on her face.
Poppy! I thought youd vanished! she sang. Come in, lets have some tea.
I returned her smile and handed her the cake box.
Here, a little treat, I said, my voice unusually bright. And I have a brilliant idea for you!
What is it? Mums eyes lit up with curiosity.
Ive booked a fancy countryhouse restaurant for your jubilee think fountains, live music! I exclaimed. I even arranged a coach to ferry all the guests!
Mum clapped her hands like a delighted child.
God bless you, Poppy, youre my golden girl! she exclaimed, hugging me. Nigel will be over the moon!
Yes, I think hell love it, I replied.
We settled at the kitchen, and Mum listed the guests shed invited. I listened halfheartedly, then added, By the way, my friends grandmother, Svetla, needs a place to stay. Im thinking of selling my share of the flat to her.
Mums smile vanished, her eyes narrowed.
Whats that about? she asked coldly.
Dont worry, I waved it off. Shes quiet, hardly ever leaves her room. It wont bother anyone. Ill give you half the proceeds for living expenses.
Mums face changed instantly.
How much are we talking about? she demanded.
I named a figure; her eyebrows shot up.
That much?! Well then, let her move in, she said, sighing.
I pulled a sheet of paper from my bag and began scribbling.
Sign the notice of sale, I said, almost casually.
Mum grabbed the pen and signed without even reading.
Perfect, I smiled. Now lets think about what dress youll wear.
The day of the jubilee was bright and warm. A large coach was already parked outside our house, and guests in their best attire gathered. Nigel strutted through the crowd, shouting and gesturing flamboyantly.
Spotting me, his grin widened.
Ah, our benefactor! he declared. Poppy always knows how to reward us for a happy childhood!
Some guests laughed; I returned a polite smile.
Is everyone ready? I asked Mum.
Yes, dear, she replied. Arent you coming with us?
Ill join later by taxi, I said. I have a few things to settle first.
Oh, how caring of you! she teased.
The guests boarded the coach. I had arranged with the driver: half the fare up front, the rest on return.
When the coach disappeared around the corner, I dialed.
Hello, Victor? This is Poppy. Could I view the flat today? As soon as possible, please.
I imagined the crowd, led by Mum and Nigel, arriving at the countryside restaurant that nobody had actually booked. Their phones would ring unanswered, and theyd have to split the cost of the return journey.
Half an hour later a broadshouldered man entered my buyer Victor Stevens, a weightlifter with a friendly yet intimidating stare.
Everything as agreed, he said. Im moving in today.
Excellent, I replied, smiling. Im sure youll get along with the neighbours quickly.
After he left, I walked once more through the flat where Id grown up. So many memories good and bad lingered. Dads photograph still rested on the shelf in my room. I slipped it gently into my bag.
As I closed the door behind me, I could picture Nigels face when he learned about the new neighbour, and Mums realization that the grand restaurant would be empty and the money from my share would never reach her.
They say revenge is a dish best served cold.
Yet as I shut the door of the house I would never return to, a warm calm settled over me.
Sometimes the only true justice is to walk away with dignity, leaving the past behind and forging your own path.
