When youre walking sidebyside, the road feels a lot shorter.
Look at the bun Ive just made, Mum! Emily shouted, halfgiddy as she and her mother were pulling the dough together in the kitchen.
Mrs. Thompson beamed, One day youll have a family of your own, Emily, and I just know youll be a brilliant cook. Everyone will love and respect you because youre such a wonderful soul. I only wish you endless happiness.
Her voice lingered in Emilys ears while tears traced a wet line down her cheek. She perched on a bench outside the neighbours garden, her legs trembling, everything crashing in an instant. She tried to picture the day theyd sat there sharing icecream sticks back in the life shed once known.
Im the only one left in the whole wide world, she thought, and theres no home for me any more. I hoped I could stay in that house we grew up in. After the childrens home gave me a room in a council flat, its noisy, unfamiliar, and the town feels foreign. I just want to be home again, but the old house I shared with Mum isnt mine any more.
Emily was seven when, on their way back from the corner shop, a burly man lunged at her mother demanding money. Theyd spent almost everything at the shop, so he swung his fists. Mrs. Thompson tried to step back, slipped and hit her head on a stone.
Emily hovered, begging her mum to open her eyes, to get up, but Mum didnt hear her. A siren wailed, an ambulance rushed them both away, and Emily was whisked off to the childrens home. She struggled to adapt to the new life that felt nothing like home.
She often sat on the neighbours bench, recalling the bedroom shed slept in, the photos of her mum cradled in her arms. When she finally walked back to the old house, a sharptongued aunt stepped out, You dont belong here, you orphan. This is my house now, everything in it belongs to me. Get lost, or Ill call the police and theyll sort you out quickly.
Emily felt the cold grip of abandonment she truly was alone.
A sudden voice snapped her back: Hey, Emily.
She looked up to see a familiar smiling face. Mike? she whispered, still shaky from the flood of memories.
Do you remember? We were together in nursery, then sat sidebyside in firstgrade until you moved away. They used to call us bride and groom back then.
Mike, its been years, she said, smiling as she recognised his tall, broadshouldered frame, his boxing background, the way hed fought for the county team.
I ran into Aunt Nancy she told me you should come back now youre eighteen, just like me. Ive been popping by your old street every day, hoping to catch you.
Aunt Nancy, Emily murmured. She was the one who loved my mum and me.
Aunt Nancy, about a decade older than Mrs. Thompson, had once worked with Emilys mother and had become a close friend. Shed often called Emilys mum a little sister and treated Emily like a daughter.
I forgot about Aunt Nancy, Mike said, glancing toward the row of houses. She lives three doors down.
Lets go see her, he suggested, lifting Emilys small bag that held a few clothes, documents and a handful of pounds. Ive heard theres a lot happening in the village. I know something about your house, and Aunt Nancy wants to take you in.
Emily nodded, and together they walked to Aunt Nancys cosy cottage, the place where shed once tried to adopt Emily before the authorities sent her back to the childrens home.
When Aunt Nancy opened the door and saw Emily, tears broke free. My sweet girl, Emily Ive missed you so much. She wrapped her in a warm hug and kissed her cheek, then invited Mike inside as well.
Im relieved, Emily. Youre safe here, Mike said, and if anything comes up, Aunt Nancy knows where to find me.
Come on in, Mike, Aunt Nancy replied, youre a good lad. Ive been asking about you all this time.
Emily settled at the kitchen table. Ill get you something to eat, you need to rest. Did you try to get into the house before? Im sorry they turned you away, but Ive been waiting for you. She smiled, I love you, my dear. As they say, when two people walk together the road feels shorter.
That night Emily fell asleep under a warm quilt, dreaming of strolling through a sunny field with her mum, picking wildflowers. She woke up refreshed, and over breakfast Aunt Nancy said, Youll need to sort out the paperwork with social services; Ill go with you.
Thanks, Aunt Nancy, but Im old enough to handle my own affairs, Emily replied, stepping out to the bus stop. She passed her old house when a woman who now lived there shouted, Youre still skulking around here, youll get caught stealing again! My eyes never miss a thing!
Emily barely had time to answer before Mikes voice called from behind, Dont slander Emily. Any false accusations will have consequences. The woman turned on him, but they walked away without looking back. She tried to take your home, Mike added. Well fight for whats right.
On the way to the stop, Mike mentioned a new café that had just opened nearby, run by his fathers old army mate, Mr. Roman Sinclair. He promised to help you get a job there, he said.
Sounds good, Mike, but first we need to sort the house, Emily replied.
Mike nodded confidently, Well get justice, trust me.
The next day Aunt Nancy asked Emily to pick up some sugar and biscuits for tea. As she turned back toward the street, a tall police officer blocked her path.
Listen up, he barked, forget about that house. You have three days to leave, or youll end up where your mother is.
Emilys heart thudded; his voice sounded oddly familiar. She didnt say a word to Aunt Nancy, and that evening Mike arrived.
Lets go to the café, Ill introduce you to the manager. You could become the head chef one day, he grinned.
Emily told him about the officers threat.
Mr. Sinclair, a kindly man, asked her about her life and the house. If anyone gives you trouble, tell me, he said. I have plenty of friends, even some in the police.
Emily explained the officers warning.
It sounds like you were threatened, Sinclair said. Ill keep an eye out.
Emily quickly grew to love working at the café, first as a kitchen assistant, then as a souschef after Sinclair saw how deftly she sliced vegetables.
Youll need training, he told her, once we sort out the house, Ill send you to culinary college.
One autumn evening Sinclair asked Emily to cover a night shift. The streets were dark, and she wanted to stay over at the café, but thought Aunt Nancy would worry, so she headed home. She stuck to the welllit lane, but the alley leading to her old house was in shadow. Suddenly the same police officer from before appeared.
You didnt listen, he snarled, brandishing a knife. Emily shut her eyes, telling herself she wasnt scared because her mum would be there.
Just then a group of officers rushed in, handcuffed the man and shouted, Freeze! Mr. Sinclair arrived, easing her homeward. Lets get you back, he said. Ive already told my contacts, and theyve been watching him for a while. The whole corrupt ring in the force is about to be exposed.
Soon the police chief and his gang, whod been flipping houses for profit, were arrested. Emilys ownership papers were restored, and the local constable, grateful for the expose, handed her the refreshed deeds.
Mike cheered beside her, Justice has finally won, just as we hoped.
Months later, Emily and Mike stood at their mothers graveside, the cottage now theirs after a full renovation. Mike stepped aside, letting Emily speak.
Mum, Mike and I live here now. Were married, weve fixed the place up together. He loves me, I love him, and Mr. Sinclair said when I finish college Ill be his right hand in the kitchen. She glanced at the old photograph of her mother, feeling as if her mothers eyes were still watching over her, proud and supportive.
