Nothing had changed.
I stepped into the flat, buoyant, a cake box cradled in my hands a birthday cake bought especially for Mum and Brian.
From deep within the flat a lowvolume music drifted, beneath it muted chatter.
My name, spoken by my stepdad, froze me in the hallway.
How much longer do I have to put up with your Blythe? Brians voice was sharp, irritated. Shes a stone in my throat.
I held my breath, pressed against the wall, my heart hammering as if they could hear it.
Dont get your knickers in a twist. Let her pay for the jubilee, then she can go off somewhere else. For now, keep your nose out of it, quiet as a mouse.
The words snatched my breath away.
My fingers clenched the cardboard box so hard the corners threatened to crumble.
So thats how it is exactly what they wanted from me, I thought, a cold shiver running down my spine.
I slipped toward the door, trying to stay unseen.
The moment it shut behind me, I bolted down the stairs in a halfrun.
Outside the sun shone just as bright, but the world suddenly drained of colour.
I settled slowly on a bench in the park opposite the house, the cake box resting on my knees, my eyes staring at it in disbelief.
Five years of silence
Five long years I hadnt crossed the threshold of my parents house.
I hadnt heard Mums voice, hadnt seen her face.
And now a phone call, an invitation to a jubilee.
Brian had entered our lives when I was fifteen.
A wiry boy with a sly squint and a perpetual grin.
Blythe! hed shout, winking at Mum. Our slim little thing, bonethin, I swear. Shell be whisked away by the first gust of wind!
Mum would burst into laughter at his jokes, eyes shining as if he were reciting the worlds greatest truths.
Bri, youre a proper joker! shed clap. What a lad!
Id sit, eyes glued to my plate, trying to become invisible.
Mum, hes taking it too far, I finally blurted one evening.
Oh, youre being a child, she brushed off. Its just jokes, love.
Each day Mum drifted further from me, an invisible wall rising between us.
I clung to memories of Dad, who always protected me, who believed in me.
Dad had been gone two years now, but hed arranged my future a bank account that received a monthly stipend for my education. My dream was simple: finish school, head to Manchester, get into university, start a new life without Brian and his jokes that turned my world upside down.
I believed. I waited.
The graduation
After the graduation night I felt like I was soaring on wings. School behind me, a fresh life ahead.
When I flung open the flats door, I froze. Ten strangers sat at the festive table.
The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat and something sugary. Glasses clinked, laughter roared.
Brian, perched at the head of the table with Mum beside him, was the first to spot me.
Ah, our graduate finally shows up! he boomed. Come over, lovely! Lets celebrate a double your school finish and my new boat!
I shuffled to the table, someone moving aside to make room.
Ladies and gents, Brian gestured grandly, meet Blythe, my stepdaughter. Ive put my heart into raising her as my own!
His mates nodded approvingly while I stood, fork trembling in my hand.
Images flashed: him forcing me to wash his car in the frost, mocking my grades, insisting Id end up hawking at the market after school.
Blythes a bit of a featherbrain, Brian continued. Shes just finished school. Time to get a job, eh, love?
I stayed silent, poking at the salad.
Come off it, Bri, a guest laughed. Let the girl study.
Whats she studying? Brian squinted. Works more important now. Ive already spoken to Mr. Harris hell take her as a shopassistant in his store. Standing behind a counter isnt exactly Newtons law.
The table erupted in laughter, and I felt the heat rise inside me.
The betrayal
When Mum slipped off to the kitchen, I followed.
Mum, I need to talk, I whispered.
She was a little tipsy, eyes glittering, movements loose.
Whats up? she set a stack of plates down awkwardly.
Im applying to university in Manchester, my voice trembled. I need the money from my account.
Mum froze, then turned slowly.
What money? she frowned.
The one Dad set aside for my education, I repeated.
Oh, that, she waved a hand as if brushing away a speck. Theres no money left.
The world tilted.
How can that be? I whispered. There was
There isnt, she cut in. Brian needed to buy a boat. And look at the feast weve thrown.
I stared, not recognizing the mother who used to read me bedtime stories.
You spent my money? I couldnt believe my ears.
Technically it was in my name, Mum shrugged. And Brian does so much for us. He deserves a boat, a holiday.
At that moment Brian burst into the kitchen.
Blythe! he shouted. Ive sorted things with Mr. Harris. From Monday youll be his cashier! He laughed loudly, pleased with himself.
I turned and slipped out of the kitchen, heading straight for my room.
Hands shaking, I rifled through the dresser drawers, searching the old boxes.
Where were Dads gifts? Gold earrings, a chain with a pendant, Grandmas ring
I found them, tucked away at the bottom of an old shoe box, untouched.
My stepdad never made it. It would be enough for Manchester, at least for now.
I sat on the bed, staring at Dads photograph on the nightstand.
Ill manage, Dad, I whispered. I promise.
The unexpected call
Five years flew by in a blur. Manchester greeted me with rain, fog, and new friends.
University, night shifts at a café, a cramped hallroom with flatmate Martha.
Life settled, and I tried not to look back.
One Tuesday morning, the phone rang an unfamiliar number.
I rarely answer such calls, but something made me press the green button.
Hello?
Blythe! Darling! Its so good to hear you!
I fell silent, collecting my thoughts.
You there? Blythe, can you hear me?
Yes, I replied shortly. I hear you.
Hows life treating you? her voice was oddly tender. I miss you more than you know!
Five years Ive not thought of you, and now youre suddenly nostalgic, I thought.
Its all fine, I said dryly. Studying, working.
Oh, brilliant girl! she gushed. Im gearing up for my jubilee Ill be fifty soon, can you believe it? Id love you to come.
I almost laughed at the sudden invitation.
Seriously? After everything?
Dont bring up the past, she snapped, a hint of irritation creeping in. Its all new. Everyone makes mistakes.
Im sorry, I really want us to be a proper family again.
I closed my eyes, and Brians smug grin flashed before me.
Is Brian coming too? I asked.
Of course! she blurted. He asks about you all the time. Hes worried.
Alright, I found myself saying. Ill come.
Really? her voice brightened. When can I expect you?
In a week, at most.
After the call I stared out the window, wondering why Id agreed. What was I hoping to find? Part of me still wanted to see Mum. Maybe shed changed.
A week later I stood on the doorstep of my parents flat. Mum flung the door open, hugging me tightly.
Sweetheart! Look at you, grownup and gorgeous! she babbled.
We sat in the kitchen, sipping tea, Mum chattering about neighbours, friends, and life.
Then, almost offhand, she added:
My jubilee is coming up, and Ive got no money, she said, eyes downcast.
Dont worry, Mum. Ill cover it, I promised, taking her hand.
The plan
After a moment on the park bench, I straightened my back and set off determinedly.
Theyll get what they deserve, I whispered to myself.
Back inside, I slammed the door shut so theyd hear.
A second later Mum emerged, a strained smile painted on her face.
Blythe! I thought youd vanished! she sang. Come in, have a cuppa.
I returned her smile, handing her the cake box.
Thought Id treat you, I said, voice unusually bright. And Mum, I have a brilliant idea!
What is it? her eyes lit up.
Ive booked a swanky country restaurant for your jubilee think fountains, live music! I announced. I even arranged a coach to ferry all the guests!
Mum clapped her hands like a delighted child.
God bless you, Blythe, youre my golden girl! she shouted, hugging me. And Brian will love it too!
Yes, I think hell be over the moon, I replied.
We settled at the kitchen table, Mum rattling off the guest list. I halflistened, then slipped in:
By the way, my friends grandma, Sophie, needs somewhere to stay. I could sell her my half of the flat.
Mums smile vanished, eyes narrowing.
Whats that about? she asked coldly.
Dont worry, I waved it off. Shes quiet, never leaves the house. Half the proceeds will go to you for living costs.
Mums expression changed instantly.
How much are we talking about? she demanded.
I named a sum that made her blink in surprise.
That much? Well then, let her move in, she said, almost smiling again.
I pulled a sheet of paper from my bag, scribbling hastily.
Sign the notice of sale, I said, barely pausing.
Mum grabbed the pen and, without reading, signed.
Perfect, I said, beaming. Now, what dress will you wear to the jubilee?
The payback
The jubilee day was sunny and warm. A large tourist coach parked outside our block, guests in festive attire streamed in.
Brian strutted through the crowd like a parade, shouting and gesturing.
Spotting me, his face split into a grin.
Ah, our benefactor! he exclaimed. Blythe always knows how to reward us for a happy childhood!
Someone laughed, I forced a polite smile.
Everything 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.
Such a caring daughter you are! she cooed.
The guests piled onto the coach. I had arranged with the driver: half the fare up front, the rest on return.
When the bus turned the corner, I dialed.
Hello, Victor? This is Blythe. Could I view the flat today? Right now, if possible.
I imagined the crowd, led by Mum and Brian, arriving at the countryside restaurant, only to find no one there, phones dead, and having to split the cost of the return journey.
Half an hour later a broadshouldered man in a work coat pulled up my buyer, Victor Stevens, a former weightlifter turned property investor.
He smiled, eyes scanning the flat.
Everything as we discussed. Im moving in today, he said.
Great, I replied. Im sure youll get along with the neighbours.
He left, and I walked once more through the house that raised me, memoriesgood and badlining the walls.
Dads photograph still perched on my shelf. I slipped it into my bag.
As I closed the front door of the flat Id never truly left, a cold smile of revenge flickered in my mind. Theyd get what they deserved, and the money from my share would never reach Mum.
They say revenge is a dish best served cold.
Yet as the door shut behind me, a strange warmth settled in my chest.
