Nothing had changed
I walked into the flat feeling lighthearted, a box of cake in my hands a cake Id bought especially for Mum and Brad.
From somewhere deep inside the flat music drifted up, under it muted chatter.
My stepdads name called out, and it made me freeze in the hallway.
How many more years am I supposed to put up with your Poppy? Brads voice sounded irritated. Shes like a stone in my throat.
I held my breath, pressed flat against the wall. My heart thumped so hard I was sure they could hear it.
Dont get your knickers in a twist, I heard Brad say. Let her pay for the birthday and then she can go off. For now, keep your nose out of it.
The words snatched the wind from my lungs. My fingers squeezed the cardboard so hard the box nearly turned to a pancake.
So thats it they wanted this from me, I thought.
I slipped toward the door, trying to stay unnoticed. As soon as it shut behind me I practically tumbled down the stairs.
Outside the sun shone just as brightly, but the world had suddenly lost all its colour. I eased myself onto a bench in the small park opposite the house. The cake box rested on my knees and I stared at it, trying to make sense of everything.
Five years of silence
Five long years I hadnt set foot in my parents house. I hadnt heard Mums voice, hadnt seen her face. And now a phone call and an invitation to a birthday.
Brad had come into our lives when I turned fifteen. Small, with a sly squint and a permanent grin.
Poppy! hed shout, winking at Mum. Our lanky little thing, bone and skin, I swear shell be blown away by the first gust!
Mum would burst into laughter at his jokes, looking at him as if he were reciting the worlds greatest truths.
Brad, youre a right character! shed clap. What a joker!
I would sit, eyes cast down onto my plate, trying to be invisible.
Mum, hes overthetop, I finally blurted one day.
Oh, stop being such a baby, she brushed me off. Its just jokes.
Each day Mum drifted further from me, as if an invisible wall had risen between us. I clung to memories of Dad, who had always protected me, who had believed in me.
Dad had been gone for two years, but he had looked after my future. Hed opened an account where a sum was deposited each month for my education. My dream was to finish school, head to Manchester, and get into university to start a new life without Brad and his jokes that turned my world upside down. I believed. I waited.
Graduation
After the leavers party I felt like I was soaring on wings. School behind me, a brandnew future ahead.
When I opened the flats door, I was taken aback. Ten strangers sat around the festive table. The air smelled of roast and something sweet. Glasses clinked, laughter roared.
Brad, seated at the head of the table with Mum beside him, was the first to notice me.
Ah, our graduate has arrived! he boomed. Come over, love! Lets celebrate double your school finish and my new boat!
I walked hesitantly to the table. Someone shifted, making room.
Ladies and gents, Brad gestured. Meet Poppy, my stepdaughter. Ive raised her like my own!
His friends nodded, and I stood there, fork in hand.
Images flashed: him making me wash his car in freezing weather, laughing at my grades, insisting Id end up selling at the market after school.
Poppys a bit of a dreamer, Brad went on. Shes just finished school. Now shell get to work, right, love?
I stayed silent, poking at the salad.
Come off it, Brad, a guest laughed. Let the girl study.
Whats there to study? Brad squinted. A jobs what matters now. Ive already struck a deal with Mr. Patel hell take her as a shop assistant. Standing behind a counter isnt exactly Newtons calculus.
The table erupted in chuckles, while inside me everything boiled.
Betrayal
When Mum slipped off to the kitchen, I followed.
Mum, I need to talk, I whispered. She looked a little tipsy, eyes glittering, movements loose.
What is it? she said, setting a stack of plates down.
Im planning to go to university in Manchester, 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 nothing. Theres no more.
The world wobbled beneath my feet.
How can there be none? I whispered. There was
Nothing left, she cut in. Brad needed to buy a boat. And look at this feast weve put on.
I stared at her, not recognizing the mother who once read me bedtime stories.
You spent my money? I couldnt believe my ears.
Technically it was in my name, Mum shrugged. Brad does so much for us. He deserves a boat and a holiday.
At that moment Brad stormed into the kitchen.
Poppy! he shouted. Ive got a deal with Mr. Patel. From Monday youll be his cashier! He laughed loudly.
I turned and slipped out of the kitchen, heading to my bedroom. My hands shook as I rummaged through the dresser, pulling out boxes.
Where were Dads gifts? Gold earrings, a chain with a pendant, Grandmas ring I found them hidden in the bottom of an old shoe box, untouched.
Brad never made it. For now, Id have enough for Manchester.
I sat on the bed, looked at Dads photograph on the nightstand.
Ill manage, Dad, I whispered. I promise.
An unexpected call
Five years flew by in a blur. Manchester greeted me with rain, fog, and the warmth of new friends. University, a night shift in a café, a flatshare with a girl called Lucy. Life settled, and I tried not to dwell on the past.
The phone rang early Tuesday morning. An unknown number. I rarely answer such calls, but something made me press the green button.
Hello?
Poppy, love! Its Mum. Im so happy to hear your voice!
I stayed silent, gathering myself.
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 have no idea!
Five years I didnt think about you, and now youre missing me, the thought ran through my mind.
Everythings fine, I said dryly. Studying, working.
Oh, brilliant, darling! Im planning a birthday soon Ill be turning fifty. You must come.
I almost laughed at the sudden invitation.
Seriously? After everything?
Oh, stop bringing up the old stuff, she said, a hint of irritation slipping in. Everyone makes mistakes. Im really sorry. I want us to be a family again.
I closed my eyes and saw Brads smug face, his perpetual grin.
Is Brad coming too? I asked.
Of course! she replied too quickly. He asks about you all the time. Hes anxious.
Fine, I said, surprising myself. Ill come.
Really? her voice brightened with genuine surprise. When can I expect you?
In a week, I think.
After the call I stared out the window. Why had I agreed? What was I hoping to find? Part of me wanted to see Mum. Maybe she had truly changed.
A week later I stood on the doorstep of my parents flat. Mum flung the door open and embraced me.
Darling, youve grown! What a beauty! she babbled.
We sat in the kitchen drinking tea, Mum chatting about neighbours and acquaintances. Then, almost offhand, she added:
Poppy, Ive been thinking my birthdays coming up and Ive got no money, she said, eyes downcast. I want to celebrate properly, but Brad you know hes not the spendthrift.
I took her hand, looked into her eyes.
Dont worry, Mum. Ill take care of everything.
The net tightens
Sitting on a bench, I thought things through, straightened my back and walked back into the house with purpose.
Theyll get what they deserve, I promised myself. I slammed the door shut so they could hear.
Mom emerged from the living room, a strained smile on her face.
Poppy! I thought youd vanished! she sang. Come in, have some tea.
I smiled back, handed her the cake box.
Here, a little treat, I said, my voice unusually upbeat. And I have a brilliant idea for your birthday!
Whats that? Mums eyes brightened.
Ive booked a swanky restaurant out of town for your celebration fountains, live music, the whole lot! I blurted. I even arranged a coach to bring all the guests!
Mum clapped her hands like a child.
Bless you, Poppy, youre my golden girl! she shouted, hugging me. Brad will love it!
Yeah, I think hell be thrilled, I replied.
We settled back in the kitchen, Mum listing the guests shed invited. I listened halfheartedly, then slipped in:
By the way, my friends grandma, Sandra, has nowhere to stay. Im thinking of selling my share of the flat to her.
Mums smile vanished, eyes narrowed.
Whats that about? she asked coldly.
Dont worry! I waved my hand nonchalantly. You all can buy it yourselves, cant you?
Sandras a quiet old lady, barely leaves her room. No one will mind. Ill give you half the proceeds for living expenses.
Mums face changed instantly.
Well, if thats the case how much are we talking about?
I named a sum; her eyebrows shot up.
That much?! she gasped. Fine, let her move in then.
I pulled a sheet of paper from my bag, scribbled quickly.
Sign the notice of sale, I said, barely looking at her.
Mum grabbed the pen and, without reading, signed.
Great, I beamed. Now lets pick out your birthday dress.
The reckoning
The birthday turned out sunny and warm. A large coach parked outside our house, guests in their best clothes. Brad strutted through the crowd, gesturing wildly, shouting about his new boat.
Seeing me, his grin widened.
Oh, heres our benefactor! he cried. Poppy always knows how to thank us for a happy childhood!
Someone laughed, I offered a polite smile.
Everyone ready? I asked Mum.
Yes, love, she replied. Arent you coming with us?
Ill catch a taxi later, I said. I still have a few things to sort out.
Youre such a caretaker! she cooed.
The guests boarded the coach. I had arranged a fiftypercent deposit with the driver, the rest on the return journey. When the coach disappeared around the corner, I pulled out my phone.
Hello, Victor? Its Poppy. Could I view the flat today? Right now, if that works.
I imagined the crowd arriving at the countryside restaurant, only to find no one waiting for them, my phone dead, and them having to chip in for the ride back.
Half an hour later a broadshouldered man in a tracksuit pulled up my buyer, Victor Stone, a weightlifting trainer. He was friendly but had a look that said he wasnt to be trifled with.
Everythings as agreed. Im moving in today.
Excellent, I smiled. I think youll get along with the neighbours quickly.
When he left, I walked through the flat where Id grown up, memories flooding in both good and bad. Dads photograph still sat on the shelf in my room. I slipped it into my bag.
As I closed the door behind me, I pictured Brads face when he heard about the new neighbour, and Mums realization that the restaurant guests would find no one waiting, and that the money from my share would never reach her.
They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Yet, as I shut the flats door for the last time, a warm sense settled in my chest.
I had finally taken control of my own story, learned that true freedom comes not from holding grudges, but from moving forward with courage and selfreliance.
