Where do you think youre going? Its nearly midnight!
Mum, I told you already! Its Lucys birthdaywere just meeting at the café, and Ill come straight home. Ill call a taxi, I promise!
Emily stood in the hallway, arms crossed, blocking her seventeen-year-old daughters path. Katie, already done up in makeup and a new dress, shifted impatiently from foot to foot.
A taxi at this hour? Are you mad? Its Saturday tomorrowgo out in the afternoon. I wont let you go, and thats final.
Mu-um! Katie whined, her voice trembling with tears. Everyone else is allowedjust not me! You dont trust me, do you? You still think Im a kid!
I think the city at night is no place for a seventeen-year-old. End of discussion. Go to your room and change.
Katie glared, spun on her heel, and stomped off. Her door slammed so hard the china in the cabinet rattled. Emily exhaled sharply and walked to the kitchen, her heart pounding from the unpleasant exchange. She knew Katie would sulk till morning, but she couldnt let her go. Fear for her only daughter outweighed the guilt of not being the cool mum.
She filled the kettle and slumped onto a stool, the evening ruined. Then the phone rang. Reluctantly, Emily picked up, bracing for a nagging call from her mother or a favour from a neighbour.
Hello? she said wearily.
Em? Emily, is that you? came a voice, trembling with tearspainfully familiar yet unheard for years. Its Sarah. Wilson. Do you remember me?
Emily froze. Sarah Wilson? Her best friend from university, before life pulled them apart fifteen years ago. First, occasional calls, then just Christmas cards, then silence.
Sarah? Of course I remember. Whats wrong? You sound
Em, Im so sorry to call this late, Sarah choked out. Ive got no one else. Its awfuljust awful
Between sobs, Sarah spilled it out in a tangled rush: her partner of ten years had thrown her out. Said hed met someone else. The flat was his, her job was cash-in-hand at his firm, and now she was on the street with just a bag and not a penny to her name.
Im at Kings Cross, Em, Sarah whispered. I dont know what to do. Where to go. Everyones turned their back, and I cant face my parents in the villageits humiliating.
Emilys chest tightened. Sarahbright, confident Sarah, the beauty of their yearhuddled on a dirty station bench, lost and alone. The anger at Katie, the exhaustion of the day, all dissolved.
Where exactly are you? Which station? Emily demanded.
Kings Cross.
Right. Stay put. Get a taxi hereIll cover the fare.
Em, no, I dont want to impose
No arguments! Still remember the address?
I think Oak Lane, number twelve?
Flat forty-five. Ill wait.
Hanging up, Emily rushed to prepare the guest room. The sofa bed was old but comfortable. She pulled out fresh sheets, a quilt, a pillow. Her stomach knotted, yet somehow, she felt lighter. This was right. Who else would help an old friend in need?
An hour later, the doorbell rang. Sarah stood on the stephollow-eyed, puffy-faced, in a crumpled designer jacket, clutching a gym bag.
Em She collapsed into Emilys arms, shaking with silent sobs.
Shh, its all right, Emily murmured, guiding her inside. Youre freezing. Come in.
She settled Sarah at the kitchen table with hot tea. The woman sipped, hands trembling.
Thank you. If not for you
Dont. Thats what friends are for. Hungry? I can whip something up.
Sarah shook her head. I just need to lie down.
Emily led her to the sofa bed, then peeked into Katies room. Her daughter was asleep, curled tight under the covers. She kissed her forehead, the earlier fight forgotten. Now her mind raced over Sarahonce so vibrant, now broken. How?
At dawn, Emily woke early. The flat was still. She tiptoed outthen froze. Her bedroom door, which shed shut, stood slightly ajar. A faint rustling came from inside.
Her heart lurched. Katie? No, she was in her room. Sarah? What was she doing in there?
Emily crept closer and peered through the gap. The sight rooted her to the spot. Sarah knelt by the dresser, drawers pulled open, methodically rifling through clothesnot just looking, but feeling under stacks, peering into corners like a thief hunting treasure. She lifted an old jewellery boxEmilys few keepsakes: her mothers earrings, a thin gold chain from her late husband, a couple of silver rings. Sarah opened it, scanned the contents, then set it back with a disappointed twist of her lips. Next, she moved to the documents drawer.
Emilys vision darkened. This wasnt happening. Her friend, the one shed taken in out of pity, was stealing from her.
She didnt know whether to storm in screaming or slip away. She chose the latter, retreating silently to bed, trembling under the covers. Why? Money? Jewellery? But she hadnt taken the box.
Minutes later, the rustling stopped. The door clicked shut. Emily listeneda creak from the sofa. Silence.
Half an hour passed before she forced herself up. In the kitchen, Sarah sat staring out the window, elbow propped on the table.
Morning, she said, turning. Her face was drawn, sad. No trace of guilt.
Morning, Emily replied flatly, switching on the kettle. Inside, she seethed. Sleep well?
Thanks, yes. Your sofas comfy. Sorry if I woke youcouldnt sleep.
*No surprise there*, Emily thought bitterly.
As she buttered toast, she studied Sarah. The woman chatted casually about job interviews, flat-huntingnever once slipping.
Katie appeared, eyeing the stranger coolly.
Katie, this is Aunt Sarah, my uni friend. Shes staying a while.
Hello, Katie said, polite but distant.
Look at youso grown up! Sarah beamed. Last time I saw you, you were in a pram!
Katie shrugged and ate in silence, shooting Sarah wary glances.
Later, while helping tidy, Sarah probed about Emilys life, her late husband, Andrew.
Never remarried?
Didnt work out, Emily said shortly.
Shame. He was a good man.
Emily said nothing. Andrews heart attack ten years ago still ached.
That evening, tension simmered. They watched a film, Sarah laughing too loudly. Emily pretended all was normal, but Sarahs gazescanning the flat like an appraiserset her teeth on edge.
Next night, Emily locked her bedroom door for the first time ever.
On Monday, leaving for work, Sarah asked to stay behind. In case someone calls.
The moment the door closed, Emily rang their old uni mate, Olivia.
Sarah Wilson? Bloody hellwhered she crawl from?
Emily explained.
Olivia hesitated. Be careful. Shes always had cracks. Remember the trip money that went missing?
Emily frowned. Theyd blamed general carelessness.
Liv saw her pocket it. We let it slideno proof. But a few years back, I ran into her. Looked rough. Said she was drowning in debt, dodging loan sharks.
Emilys blood ran cold.
She came home early. The flat was silent. Sarah wasnt in the lounge, the kitchenbut in Katies room, flipping through an old photo album. Andrews album.
What are you doing? Emilys voice was ice.
Sarah jerked around, forcing a smile. Just tidying!
Put. It. Down.
Sarahs face hardened. Fine. I was looking. So what? Im desperate! Youve got a home, a joband Andrew he was always tight-fisted. I thought maybe hed hidden something. Old coins, whatever. He bragged about collecting them.
Emily swayed. Andrew *had* collected coinsworthless ones, in a shoebox.
You lied to rob me?
Sarah sneered. What choice did I have?
The front door clickedKatie home from school.
Pack your things, Emily said coldly. Youve got ten minutes.
Sarah left without another word.
As the door shut, Emily slid to the floor. Katie hugged her.
Mum, dont cry. Shes not worth it.
Emily clung to her daughter, the anger melting into relief. Her real treasure wasnt in boxes or drawers. It was right here, holding her tight.
People changeespecially when moneys involved. But some things, like love and trust, are priceless.
