**By the Broken Washbasin**
From childhood, Emily knew she was beautifuleveryone told her so.
“Our little girl is so lovely, stands out among the other girls,” her mother would gush to colleagues and friends. And truly, no one could deny itthough Mrs. Jenkins next door did mutter skeptically,
“All children are pretty, but they dont always stay that way. Not saying yours wont, mind you, but it happens.”
Emily grew up tall and striking, and by sixth form, she was a proper head-turner. A bit haughty, a touch spoiled, she knew boys would trip over themselves to please herand they did.
After school, uni didnt pan out, so she settled for a college diploma in retail management.
“Sweetheart,” her mother said, “why dont I get you a job at the factory lab? Nice and easy, no heavy liftingyoure too delicate for that.”
“But what about my diploma?”
“Oh, who even works in their field these days? Trades not for you.”
So Emily became a lab assistant. By then, she was even lovelierand knew it. She fell madly for James, an engineer from the next department. A whirlwind romance later, he proposed.
“Before someone snatches you away, marry me?”
“I will,” she beamed.
The wedding was standardfactory canteen, buffet, too many guests. Modest, like most in those days. Soon after, Emily announced she was pregnant.
“James, were having a baby!”
“Brilliant! Over the moon, love,” he said, hugging her.
Their daughter, Lucy, was bornjust as pretty, just like Mum. Life was grand.
But time passed. Lucy grew, went to nursery, while Emily and James worked. After maternity leave, something shiftednot her looks, but her attitude. Suddenly, she was the queen, and James the footman. He took Lucy everywherepark, bedtime stories, even nappieswhile Emily stayed late, claiming work. (James knew the lab closed at five.)
“James, saw your wife with the director at The Ivy,” coworkers nudged. He just looked away.
“Mate, whyd you marry a stunner?” friends asked. “Pretty cakes never eaten alone”
Everyone knew Emily ran in fancier circles now, rubbing shoulders with ministry typeslike Anthony, a high-flyer who spoiled her with jewellery and designer bags.
James became a ghostquiet, doing chores, dodging rows for Lucys sake. Divorce? Unthinkable.
Then came the scandal. Anthonys empire crumbled.
“Emily, if anyone asks, keep quiet,” he warned. “We wont see each other again.”
And they didnt. Arrested. Then Emily was hauled interrified, begging release. No proof, but her reputation was mud.
She returned home feeling filthy. Savings goneJames had sold half their things to cover legal fees. Fired, shamed, they lived like flatmates. James almost left, but couldnt bear hurting Lucy.
Emily swallowed pride: “Dont go. Im sorry. It wont happen again.”
He stayed. But touching her? “You slept with others.”
“I did it for us!”
Soon, she reboundedwith a young “assistant,” Tom. Cash flowed. They lived separately, never divorcing.
Years flew. Lucy married, moved to Scotland. New Years cameEmily jetted to China, James to Dublin with mates.
Back home, he gaped. “Blimey, whatve you done?”
She looked decades youngerno wrinkles, trim as ever.
“How much did that cost?”
She laughed wildly. “Everything.” Empty hands, empty purse. “Chinese magicacupuncture, massages. Worth every penny.”
She wouldnt age beside Tom.
“Youre old. Look at me,” she taunted James.
“Were the same age”
But she just cackled.
Then James had a heart attack. Retired, frail.
“Emily, sit with me?”
“Cant. Times money.”
One day, Tom handed her a folder at the shop.
“Sign here.”
“Whats this?”
“Congratulations. You own nothing now.”
Lawyers confirmed itshed signed everything away.
“Shouldve read the small print,” one sighed.
“Too pricey for you?” she sneered.
“Then dont blame me.”
Defeated, she went home.
“James, we need money.”
“There is none.”
“The flat, then.”
“No”
“Well buy a cottage. Youll get a PClive online.”
Shed sell up, rise again. Like a phoenix.
(Or so she told herself.)
