The neighbour means more to me than you do, Mum said before hanging up.
Emily stood in the kitchen of her London flat, gripping her phone as if it had turned to ice. She had just called her mother in York, eager to share the news of her promotion at work. Instead, she got *that*.
Whats wrong? asked her husband James, stepping into the room. You look pale.
Mum said the neighbour means more to her than I do, Emily replied slowly, setting the phone down. Just like that. Out of nowhere.
Did you two argue about something?
No! I was telling her about the promotion, and she cut me offEmily, youre always wrapped up in your own life, but Mrs. Wilkins checks on me every day, helps with shopping, even picks up my prescriptions. Shes more like family than you are.
James frowned and sat across from her.
Maybe shes not well? Could it be her head?
Her heads fine, Emily snapped. She meant every word. She just wanted to hurt me. And you know what started it? I asked her to stay with us this summerrent a cottage in the Cotswolds. She said, Why would I need a cottage when I have Margaret next door? We tend the garden together.
Emily fell silent, then let out a bitter laugh.
And Ive been sending her money every week. Fifty pounds. Just in case, I said. Thought it would help.
Stop sending it, James said firmly. If the neighbours so important, let *her* help.
James, dont say that. Shes still my mother.
Your mother, who just insulted you? Emily, wake up. No decent parent speaks to their child like that.
Emily moved to the window. Children were playing in the courtyard below, their laughter floating up, but it felt distant nowlike noise from another world.
Mrs. Wilkins *was* a good neighbour. A widow, her own children lived up in Scotland and visited once a year. Emily remembered her from childhoodsharp-tongued, always scolding kids for making noise in the hallway. Now, suddenly, she was more family than her own daughter.
The phone rang again. Mums name flashed on the screen.
Dont answer, James said.
What if somethings wrong?
If somethings wrong, let her precious Margaret handle it.
Emily picked up anyway.
Yes?
Emily, why did you hang up? We were talking.
*You* hung up, Mum. Right after telling me the neighbour matters more.
Oh, that Her mothers voice turned dismissive. Well, its true. Margarets here every day. Where are you? Up in London. When my blood pressure spiked last month, who called the ambulance? Margaret. Where were you?
I was at work, Mum! You never told me!
Why bother? You wouldnt have come anyway. Too busy with your *important* job.
Emily swallowed hard. The old resentment in her mothers voice was unmistakable.
Do you want me to visit tomorrow? Ill take the day off.
Dont bother. Margarets taking me to the doctor. Youd just be glued to your phone or fussing over work.
Emily flinched like shed been slapped.
Fine. Whatever you say.
Oh, and Her mothers tone shifted, suddenly businesslike. Stop sending money. Margaret says its wronglike youre trying to buy my affection. I dont need it.
Silence. Rustling sounds, then her mothers voice, mufflednot into the phone:
Margaret, whats this medicine you brought? For indigestion? Bless you, love
Im hanging up now, Emily whispered to no one and ended the call.
James pulled her into a hug.
She doesnt know what shes saying. Maybe it *is* her mind?
She knows, Emily said, stepping back. Im just… not family anymore. When I was at university, she said the same thingWhy bother with degrees? Marry, have children. Then when I got the job? Career woman, forgot your family.
But you call her every week!
And every time, I hear how Ive failed. Dont visit enough. Gifts arent thoughtful enough. Dont spend enough time with the grandkids. Now Margarets the golden child.
Emily sank onto a chair, rubbing her face.
The worst part? I was planning to ask her to move in with us. Clear out the spare room, make it nice. Thought shed be happy. Instead*neighbours mean more*.
Their twinsLiam and Sophie, tenburst in, schoolbags thumping, voices loud with playground gossip.
Mum, when are we visiting Granny? Sophie asked. You promised summer holidays.
Emily hesitated.
I dont know, sweetheart. Maybe not this time.
Why? Liam frowned. What about the presents we made?
Over the summer, theyd crafted a scrapbook for Grannydrawings, photos, even a handkerchief Sophie had embroidered in class. It sat in a ribbon-tied box, waiting for the trip to York.
Well send them later, Emily murmured.
Mum, are you sick? Sophie peered up. Your eyes are red.
Just tired.
James ushered the children away, murmuring excuses*Grannys not well, Mums upset, well go another time.*
That evening, Emily lingered in the lounge, flipping through old albums. Here she was, tiny, with Mum at Grandads countryside homeboth grinning, arms wrapped around each other. Then baking together, flour dusting eight-year-old Emilys nose. And her graduationMum beaming beside her, pride glowing.
When had it changed? After Dads death? Or sooner?
Five years since the funeral, and Mum had never been the same. Withdrawn, bitter, perpetually disappointed. Emily had told herself it was grieftime would heal. But time only widened the gap.
Whatre you thinking? James asked, sitting beside her.
That I *am* a terrible daughter.
Rubbish. You call, send money, visit when you can. What more does she want?
For me to live next door. Be at her beck and call. Like Margaret.
And what about your job? The kids? *Us*?
Emily shrugged.
None of that matters to her. Only that Im not there.
The phone rang again. Not Muman unknown number.
Hello?
Emily? Its Margaret Wilkins, your mothers neighbour. You need to come. Shes not herself. After your call, she started cryingwont stop. Keeps saying, Ive hurt my girl. Ive tried tea, calming her down, but shes inconsolable. Thinks youll never speak to her again.
Emilys throat tightened.
Is sheill? Her mind
No, no! Doris is sharp as ever. Just heartbroken. She loves you dearlyjust cant say it right.
The bitterness in Emilys chest softened.
Tell her Ill be there tomorrow.
Thank goodness. I was about to call a doctor.
After hanging up, Emily sat frozen.
Youre going? James asked.
Yes. Taking the kidslet them give Granny their gifts. Maybe 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. I am. No matter what Mum says.
The next morning, Emily took the day off, bundled the twins into the car, and drove to York. Liam and Sophie chattered about Grannys reaction to their presents, while Emily watched the countryside blur past, thinking how often words betray what the heart truly means.
Mum waited at the door, eyes swollen from crying. Seeing Emily, she clung to her without a word.
Forgive me, love. I didnt mean itI never
Its alright, Mum, Emily whispered, stroking her silver hair. Were here now.
And Margaret Wilkins, watching from her own doorstep, smiled softly and slipped inside. Neighbours were good to havebut family, after all, was what mattered most.
