“Mum, your phone’s ringing again,” called Matthew from behind Emily.
“Who is it?” Emily turned towards her son.
“Dunno,” he shrugged.
“Bring me the phone, would you?”
“Righto,” Matthew shouted, dashing off before quickly returning and shoving the mobile into her hand.
“Ta. Go on, play. Dinner wont be long.” As he scampered away, she glanced at the screensame hospital number, calling yet again. How had they even got her number? Emily slid a lid over the frying pan, turned off the hob, then switched off the phone and tucked it behind the curtains on the windowsill.
She set the table, the calls nagging at her. Then she went to find her husband. Oliver was at his computer. Emily crept up behind him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and rested her chin on his head.
“Whatre you up to?”
“Just scrolling. Dinner soon?”
“All done. Matthew, teas ready!” she called, straightening up. “Make sure he washes his hands,” she told Oliver, turning to leave, but he caught her wrist.
“Hold on. Who was calling?”
“Dunno. Didnt recognise the number, so I ignored it. Werent you starving?” She pulled free and retreated to the kitchen.
After dinner, switching the phone back on, she reassured herselftoo late now for anyone to ring.
Sleep wouldnt come that night. Why had she answered the first time?
*”This is St. Marys Hospital. Your mothers with us. Could you come in? There are matters to discuss…”*
*”Sorry, youve got the wrong person. I dont have a mother.”* Shed hung up. Theyd rung relentlessly since, but shed stopped picking up. *”Blast it, Ill have to go, or theyll turn up here. Better if shed just died…”* Emily had buried her mother long ago.
Next afternoon, after her shift, she drove to the hospital. The ward manager looked up sharply when she entered his office.
“Finally. Name?”
“Emily.”
“And your full name?”
“Just Emily,” she said flatly.
“Youve not visited once, Emily. Were discharging your mother, yet you ignore our calls. Thats hardly decent.”
“I told youI dont have a mother,” she repeated, irritated.
“And who is Margaret Elizabeth Whitmore to you?”
The doctor studied her. It took all Emilys willpower not to deny knowing the woman. But he wouldnt drop it.
“Howd you get my number?” she shot back.
“From her phone. Saved as Emily, my girl.”
“Howd *she* get it?”
“Youd have to ask herif she could speak.” He spread his hands.
“She cant talk?”
“Paralysed after a stroke. Didnt you know? Emily…”
“Serves her right.” The words slipped out unbiddenlike a drunks truth.
“Pardon? Did I hear”
“You heard right.” Emily held his gaze. “She dumped me, left me at a care home. Nodragged me to some distant relatives, vanished, and the woman palmed me off to social services. Twenty years, not a word. My mothers dead to me. Satisfied?”
The doctors expression softened. “Thats between you and her. But we cant keep her here. If you wont take her…”
“Exactly.”
“Then its a care facility. Youre her only kin, so we needed”
“Ill sign whatever.”
“Hold on. Private homes cost. Can you cover it?”
“I said no.”
“And if you didnt exist? Whod pay then?”
“Social services. But theyll need your consent.”
“Can I go?” She hovered by the door. He handed her a card.
“Room four. Your mothers there.”
In the corridor, Emily wavered. Part of her wanted to flee; another wanted to gloat over the woman whod abandoned her, now helpless.
She nudged the door open. Three elderly women occupied the room. Two watched blankly; the third lay still, eyes shut. Emily stepped closerthen spun on her heel and left.
Shed glimpsed her mother six months ago but hadnt expected this withering shell. Pity flickered, but she crushed it.
On the drive home, she wrestled with her thoughts. *”Shes still my mother. But what if Id needed her? Would she have cared?”*
The doctors card led her to social services. Daily, before or after shifts, she filed paperwork. They warned of possible court proceedingsjust get it over with.
“Youve been off lately. Whats eating you?” Oliver asked one evening.
“Just tired.” She leaned into him. *Thank God for him. I cant lose him.* This wasnt for her motherit was for *them*.
***
Once, Emily had parents. Their faces had blurred, but the memories remained: her mother late from work, the shouting. Little Emily would feign sleep, waiting, sometimes waking to their fights.
Then one day, her mother took her not to nursery but to a scowling stranger. *”Back soon,”* shed lied. The woman called the police when she never returned. Emily waited years before giving up.
Life in care wasnt kind. At eighteen, she begged the homes director for the relatives address. The woman spat the truth: her mother had trapped a man with a pregnancy, married him. When he suspected the child wasnt his, the rows began. Eventually, he threw them both out.
His details were in the fileher father. Emily never sought him.
After care, she trained as a hairdresser, lived in a grim bedsit, then got a council flat. Oliver walked into her salon one day. Smitten, he wooed her. When he proposed, she refusedhis parents would never accept an orphan.
He lied for her: *”Her parentsan engineer and a doctordied in a crash.”*
“Lyings wrong. What if they find out?”
“They wont.”
They married. His mother welcomed her warmly. For once, life was kinda husband, their son, Matthew. Then, six months ago, her mother appeared, calling her name outside the nursery.
“Youre mistaken. Dont approach me again, or Ill call the police.”
Shed thought that was the end of it.
***
Forgiveness? Impossible. Yet Oliverhed never understand. *”Shes your mother,”* hed say. His parents were loving; he couldnt fathom hers.
At church, the vicar listened, didnt judge. *”Do what you can. Pray for herand yourself.”*
A modest care home was found. Emily topped up her mothers pension, telling Oliver she was covering extra shifts.
One evening, leaving work, she detoured to church. Standing before the Virgin, she whispered forgivenessfor both of them.
Footsteps. A hand on her shoulder. She whirledOliver.
“What are you doing here?”
“Following you. I knew you were hiding something…”
Outside, she confessed everything.
“I couldnt forgive her. I couldnt bring her home. But I pay for her carethats why Ive been working so much.”
“Why hide it?”
“I thought youd guilt me into taking her in. I *hate* her. But I couldnt bear to lose you.”
“You daft thing.” He pulled her close. “I thought you were having an affair. All the sneaking about…”
“You *idiot*. I love *you*.”
“Will your mother recover?”
“Doubt it. Dont call her that.”
“Listenyou still cared for her, even after what she did. Im not sure Id have managed that. Just dont shut me out again, alright?”
