This woman is my real mother. Shell be living with us, said Richard, stepping into the house with a frail stranger in her seventies.
Emma froze, ladle in hand. The roast was nearly ready, the table set for dinnerand now this.
What do you mean, your *real* mother? she managed. Richard, what are you saying? Your mother died ten years agowe buried her together.
That woman was my adoptive mother, he replied, helping the stranger out of her coat. This is Margaret Whitmoremy birth mother. She gave me up to an orphanage.
Emmas legs turned to jelly. Twenty-five years of marriage, and now this.
Sit down, Margaret, Richard said, guiding her to the table. Emma, set another place, would you?
Hold on. Emma put the ladle down and turned to her husband. Explain this to me first. Where did she come from? Why didnt you say anything before?
I only just found out myself, Richard avoided her eyes. Margaret tracked me down through a missing persons service. We met, talked. Shes got nowhere to gono family left.
And where *has* she been all this time? Emma studied the woman.
Margaret kept silent, fidgeting with her hands. She was dressed plainly but cleanly, her face weary, eyes sad.
She lived in a council flat, Richard answered for her. But the new owners sold it. She was evicted. Now its my duty to help her.
*Your* duty, Emma repeated. Did you even think to discuss this with me? This is my home too.
Emma, dont be unreasonable, Richard frowned. Shes my *mother*. Youd turn an old woman out on the street?
Emma looked at himthe same man shed spent half her life withbut his expression was different now, as if *she* were the obstacle to his noble gesture.
Fine, she said at last. Lets eat first. Then well talk.
Dinner passed in heavy silence. Margaret ate quietly, nodding gratefully at Richard now and then. Emma picked at her food, trying to make sense of it all.
How *did* you find Richard? she asked Margaret.
Through an advert, the woman murmured. In the local paper. I remembered the surname they gave him at the orphanage. And his birth date, of course.
Why only now? After all these years?
Margaret lowered her head.
Couldnt face dying with the guilt, she whispered. Spent my whole life regretting what I did. Now Im illwont be long. Just wanted to say sorry.
Richard squeezed her shoulder.
None of that matters now. Weve found each other.
Watching them, Emma felt something tighten inside her. It wasnt about the space or the foodsomething just didnt add up.
After dinner, Richard showed Margaret around the house. Emma stayed to wash up, listening as they moved from room to room.
This will be your bedroom, he said. Our daughters old roomshes married now, lives away.
Richard, really, I dont want to trouble you Margarets voice was hesitant.
Nonsense. Youre family.
Later, alone in their bedroom, Emma tried to talk sense into him.
Rich, she said carefully, are you *sure* shes really your mother?
Of course! he snapped. Shes got papers from the orphanage.
Have you checked them? We could look up records, even do a DNA test
Richard turned on her, horrified.
How could you even *suggest* that? Shes sick, shes aloneshes come all this way to find me!
I just want to be sure were not being tricked, Emma said. You hear about these scamspeople preying on emotions.
A *scammer*? He scoffed. Look at her! Whats she got to steal? Old clothes, worn-out papers? Shes not after moneyshe wants her *son*.
Emma sighed. Arguing was pointless. His mind was made up.
The next morning, Emma rose early as usual. Peeking into the guest room, she saw Margaret curled up asleep, a shabby handbag on the nightstand.
In the kitchen, Richard was already at the table with his tea.
Morning, she said. Sleep well?
Fine, he muttered. Whats with the face?
Just thinking how things will be now. Three of us.
Well manage, he waved her off. Margarets quietwont be any trouble. Might even be nice, having someone else around.
*Nice*? Emma frowned. We werent *lonely* before.
Werent we? Kids grown, moved out. Grandkids hardly visit. At least therell be life in the house.
Life, Emma repeated. From a stranger we know nothing about.
I know shes my mother.
A soft voice interrupted:
Sorry to barge in.
Margaret stood in the doorway, an old dressing gown hanging off her.
Morning, Emma said stiffly. Tea?
Thank you. And Im sorry about yesterday. I know its not easy for you.
Not at all, Richard cut in. This is your home now too. Right, Em?
Emma nodded, sliding a cup toward her.
Tell me, she pressed, what did you do all these years? Where did you work?
Margaret stirred sugar into her tea.
Worked as a care assistant at the hospital. Retired now. Lived modestlybut honest.
Any family? Other children?
No. Margaret shook her head. Never married. After giving Richard up something broke in me. Couldnt bear to care for anyone else.
Richards eyes softened.
Why *did* you give me up?
Margarets hands trembled.
Young. Stupid. His father was a soldierpromised to marry me, then vanished when he heard about the baby. My parents were poor, in the countryside. No work, no money. Thought the orphanage would give him a better chanceeducation, maybe a proper family.
And it did, Richard said quickly. Good schooling, good home. You did the right thing.
No. Margarets voice cracked. A mother should *never* abandon her child. I realised too late.
Emma listened, logic warring with instinct. The story made sense. The papers seemed real. But something still felt *off*.
Then the oddities began. Food vanished faster than usualsmall things, but noticeable. A new packet of tea disappeared from the cupboard.
Rich, Emma said, I think your mothers hiding things in her room.
Hiding what?
Food. I saw her take bread. And the teas gone.
Emma, dont be ridiculous! he snapped. Shes known hungerprobably just saving bits. People do that when theyve had nothing.
Or maybe shes not alone, Emma ventured. Maybe shes feeding someone else?
For Gods sake! Richard stared at her. What someone else? She can barely walk!
Barely? She seems quite spry for her age.
Or just *polite*, he shot back.
A week later, Emmas gold earrings went missing. Not her most expensive pair, but gone all the sameleft on the dresser, now vanished.
Rich, she said that evening, my earrings are missing. The gold ones with the stones.
Maybe you misplaced them?
Ive looked *everywhere*.
His face darkened.
What are you implying?
Nothing. Just stating a fact.
Richard paced.
If youre accusing my mother, I wont allow it. Shes *ill*, Emma. Shes suffered enough.
Im not accusing anyone. But things keep disappearing.
You probably lost them, he muttered, storming out.
Emma *knew* she hadnt. And the disappearances had started with Margaret.
The next day, Richard left for work. Margaret stayed home, as usual. Emma, working remotely, was there too. At noon, the doorbell rang.
Emma, love, its me, came a familiar voiceValerie, their downstairs neighbour.
Val, come in.
Emma, I dont know how to say this, Valerie hesitated. Saw your guest this morning. Leaving with a man. Youngish, thirty-five maybe.
Emmas pulse jumped.
What man?
No idea. Never seen him before. Dressed smart, but something off about him. She handed him somethingin a bag.
When?
Couple hours ago. Just as I was off to the shops.
After Valerie left, Emma
