The neighbour means more to me than you do, Mum said, and hung up.
Emily stood in the kitchen of her London flat, the phone clutched in her hand as if it had turned into a serpent. Shed called her mother in York, wanting to share the news of her promotion, the little joy of her day. And instead, she got this.
Whats wrong? asked her husband, David, stepping into the kitchen. Youve gone pale.
Mum said the neighbour means more to her than I do, Emily said slowly, placing the phone on the table. Just like that.
Did you two argue about something?
No! I was telling her about the promotion, and she justEmily, youre off with your own affairs, but Margaret next door helps me every daypops to the shops, fetches my prescriptions. Shes more family to me than you are.
David frowned and sat across from her.
Listen, maybe shes not well. Her head
Its not her head! Emily snapped. Shes perfectly sound. She said it deliberately, to hurt me. Dyou know what started it? I asked her to come stay with us this summer, maybe rent a cottage in the Cotswolds, and she said, Why would I need a cottage when Ive got Margaret? We tend the garden together.
Emily fell silent, then laugheda dry, bitter sound.
And Ive been sending her money every week. Fifty pounds. Just in case, Id say. Thought itd make things easier.
Dont send another penny, David said sharply. If the neighbours closer, let the neighbour help.
David, dont say that! Shes my mother.
Your mother, who just cut you to the bone? Emily, wake up! A proper mother doesnt talk to her daughter like that.
Emily walked to the window. Children played in the courtyard below, their laughter drifting up, but it felt distant now, like it belonged to another world.
Margaret was a good neighbour. Lived next door, a widow, her children somewhere up in Scotland, visiting once a year. Emily remembered her from childhoodAuntie Margaret had always been stern, scolding them if they made too much noise in the hallway. And now she was more family than her own daughter.
The phone rang. Emily glanced at the screenMum.
Dont answer, said David.
What if somethings wrong?
If somethings wrong, let your close neighbour deal with it.
Emily picked up anyway.
Hello?
Emily, whyd you hang up on me? We were talking.
Mum, you hung up. Right after you brought up Margaret.
Oh, that Mums voice took on a hard edge. Well, its true, isnt it? Margarets here, day in and day out, while youre off in London. When my blood pressure spiked, who called the ambulance? Margaret. Where were you?
Mum, I was at work! I didnt know! You never rang me!
Whats the point if you wont come? Your jobs more important, your lifes so busy.
Emily felt the sting of tears. Old grudges laced her mothers voice, wounds shed thought long healed.
Mum, do you want me to come tomorrow? Ill take the day off.
Dont bother! I dont need you. Margarets taking me to the doctors. Youd just be glued to your phone or making up excuses.
Emily flinched.
Fine. Whatever you say.
Oh, and Mums tone turned brisk, dont send me any more money. Margaret says its wrong, children buying their conscience. Ill manage.
Silence. Rustling on the line, then Mums voice, mufflednot to her:
Margaret, whats this medicine you brought? For the stomach? Ta, love
Im hanging up now, Emily whispered to no one, and pressed the red button.
David wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
She doesnt know what shes saying. Maybe it is her head.
She knows. Oh, she knows. Emily pulled away. Im just a stranger to her now. When I was at uni, shed say, What do you need a degree for? Marry, have babies. When I got my job, same thing: Career woman, no time for family.
Emily, you ring her every week!
I do. And every time, I hear how Ive failed. Dont visit enough, gifts arent right, dont spend enough time with the kids. And nowMargaret.
Emily slumped into a chair, rubbing her face.
Dyou know what really stings? I was going to ask her to move in with us. Not just for summerfor good. Clear out the spare room, make it nice. Thought itd be good for her. And shethe neighbours closer.
The twins, ten-year-old Oliver and Sophie, burst in, schoolbags clattering, voices loud over some playground drama.
Mum, when are we seeing Gran? Sophie asked. You promised half-term.
Emily hesitated.
I dont know, love. Maybe not this time.
Why? Oliver frowned. What about the presents?
Theyd made a scrapbook for Gran, full of drawings and photos. Sophie had even stitched a handkerchief in sewing club. It sat in a pretty box, waiting for the trip to York.
Well give them later, Emily said softly.
Mum, are you poorly? Sophie peered up. Your eyes are red.
Just tired.
David herded the children away, murmuring something about Gran not feeling well, Mum being upset, maybe next time.
That evening, after the children were asleep, Emily sat in the lounge flipping through old photos. There she was, small, with Mum in her grandfathers garden. Mum young, laughing, arms around her. Baking cakes together, eight-year-old Emily dusted in flour. School graduation, Mum beaming beside her gold-medal daughter.
When had it changed? After Dad died? Or before?
Five years gone, and Mum had never been the same. Withdrawn, brittle, always aggrieved. Emily had thoughtgrief. Itll pass. But time only made her stranger.
Whatre you thinking? David asked, sitting beside her.
That maybe I am a bad daughter.
Rubbish. You call, you send money, you visit when you can. What more does she want?
To live next door. Be at her beck and call. Like Margaret.
What about your job? The kids? Our family?
Emily shrugged.
Doesnt matter to her. Only that Im not there.
The phone rang again. Not Mum this timean unknown number.
Hello?
Hello, this is Margaret, your mothers neighbour. Is this Emily?
Yes.
You ought to come. Your mums not right. After your call, she started cryingwont stop. I dont know what to do.
Emilys throat tightened.
Whatswhats wrong?
Keeps saying, Hurt my girl, hurt my girl. Ive made tea, tried to calm her, but she wont listen. Says youll never speak to her again.
Margaret, is sheis she ill? Her head
No, no! Shes clear as day. Just heartsick. Says she was daft, spoke out of turn. Loves you dearly, just cant say it right.
The bitterness in Emilys chest began to dissolve.
Tell her Ill come tomorrow. I promise.
Ill tell her, thank you. Thought Id have to call the doctor.
After Margaret hung up, Emily held the phone for a long time.
Going, then? David asked.
Yes. Taking the kids. Let them give Gran their presents. Maybe she just doesnt know how to say she misses me.
And if she brings up Margaret again?
She wont. Margarets kind, but shes not family. Im her daughter. No matter what she says.
The next morning, Emily took the day off, packed the children, and boarded the train to York. Oliver and Sophie chattered about how thrilled Gran would be, while Emily watched the countryside blur past, thinking how often people say the opposite of what they mean.
Mum met them at the door, eyes red and swollen. She pulled Emily into a wordless embrace and held on tight.
Forgive me, love. Forgive your silly old mum. Didnt mean it, didnt
Its all right, Mum. Its all right. Emily stroked her mothers grey hair. Im here. We all are.
Margaret, hovering in her own doorway, smiled faintly and slipped inside. She understoodneighbours were well and good, but family was family.
