Emily had always felt like an outsider in her own house. Her mother clearly dote d on her two older daughtersVictoria and Lucyshowering them with affection and cosy comforts. The favouritism cut deep, but Emily kept her bitterness hidden, constantly trying to please Mum and win even a sliver of her love.
Dont even think about staying here! The flat will go to your sisters. And youve always been the odd one, like a stray puppy, her mother snapped as she pushed Emily out the moment she turned eighteen.
Emily tried to protest, to point out the injustice. Victoria was only three years older, Lucy five. Both had finished university on Mums dime; no one had rushed them into the working world. Yet Emily had always been the misfit. Despite all her attempts to be good, the familys affection for her was skindeepif it could even be called affection at all. Only her grandfather, George, ever treated her with genuine kindness. He had taken in his pregnant daughter after her husband vanished without a trace.
Maybe Mums worried about my sisters? They say I look just like them, Emily mused, searching for an excuse for her mothers chill. She had tried several honest talks with Mum, but each ended in a scene or a tantrum.
Grandpa George was her true rock. Her fondest childhood memories were tied to the countryside cottage where they spent holidays. Emily loved digging in the garden, tending the veg patch, milking the cows, baking piesanything to postpone the dreaded return home, where she was met daily with scorn and nagging.
Granddad, why does nobody love me? Whats wrong with me? she would ask, eyes brimming.
I love you very much, he would reply warmly, never once mentioning her mother or sisters.
Little Emily wanted to believe him, that she was loved in a special way. But when she turned ten, Grandpa George died, and the familys treatment of her grew even harsher. Her sisters mocked her, and Mum always took their side.
From that day on, she never received anything newonly handmedowns from Victoria and Lucy. Theyd jeer:
Oh, what a stylish top! Perfect for dusting the floor, loveanything you need!
And if Mum bought sweets, the sisters devoured them all, handing Emily only the empty packet:
Here, sweetie, collect the wrappers!
Mum heard it all but never put them in their place. Thus Emily grew up as the stray puppy constantly begging for love from people who saw her not just as unwanted but as a punchline. The harder she tried to be good, the more they disliked her.
So when Mum finally kicked her out on her eighteenth birthday, Emily landed a job as a hospital porter. Stamina and hard work became her habit, and at least she earned a wagethough it was a pittance of £8 a hour. Yet here, nobody despised her. If youre met with kindness where youre usually scorned, that counts as progress, she thought.
Her boss even offered her a scholarship to train as a surgeon. In the tiny market town of Ashford, a specialist was in short supply, and Emily had already shown a knack for the medical side of things.
Life was a grind. By twentyseven, she had no close kin left. Work consumed her existenceshe lived for the patients whose lives she steadied. Still, loneliness lingered: she slept in a staff dormitory, just as she had once slept on a cold loft.
Visiting Mum and her sisters was a perpetual letdown, so Emily kept those trips to a minimum. Everyone would step out for a cigarette and a gossip session, leaving her on the porch to sob.
One dreary afternoon, a fellow porter named Tom sidled up to her.
Why the tears, love?
What love Stop teasing, Emily muttered.
She saw herself as a plain, grey mouse, not realizing that at nearly thirty shed become a petite, pretty blonde with bright blue eyes and a tidy nose. The awkwardness of youth had faded, her shoulders straightened, and her hairpulled back into a tight bunseemed ready to burst free.
Youre actually lovely! Value yourself and lift that head. Besides, youre a promising surgeon, your future looks bright, Tom coaxed.
Tom had worked alongside her for almost two years, occasionally slipping her a chocolate bar, but this was their first proper hearttoheart. Emily broke down and spilled everything.
Maybe you should ring Dr. Edward Whitcombe? The one you saved last month. Hes wellconnected, Tom suggested.
Thanks, Tom. Ill try, Emily replied.
And if that fails, we could get married. Ive got a flat, wont treat you badly, he added halfjokingly.
Emily flushed; his tone suddenly seemed earnest. He saw not a helpless orphan but a woman who deserved love.
Alright. Ill keep that option in mind, she smiled, feeling for the first time in ages that she wasnt a workhorse or a misfit, but a beautiful young woman with a whole life ahead.
That evening she dialled Dr. Whitcombes number:
This is Emily, the surgeon. You gave me your contact and said I could call if anything came up she began, hesitating.
Emily! Splendid to hear from you! How are you? Actually, lets meet up. Pop over for a cuppa and a chat. We oldtimers love a good natter, the doctor replied warmly.
The next day was her day off, so she hurried to his cottage. She laid bare her situation and asked if he knew anyone needing a livein carer.
Listen, Emily, Im used to hard work, but Im at my wits end she lamented.
Dont worry, love! I can get you a junior surgeons post at a private practice, and you can stay with me. Id be lost without you, Edward said.
Of course, Edward, that sounds perfect! But will your family mind? she asked.
My family only shows up when Im gone. They care about the house, not me, he sighed.
So they moved in together. Two years later a romance blossomed between Emily and Tom, many evenings spent over tea. Yet Edward never liked Tom and constantly reminded Emily:
Sorry, love, but Tom is a nice chap, just a bit softhearted. You cant rely on him. Try not to get too attached.
Oh, Edward Its too late. Weve already planned to marry. By the way, he joked about proposing two years ago, and Im now expecting, Emily announced, her face alight with joy. Shed just learned the news and quickly added, Youll still be important to me! Ill visit every day. Youre like family.
Well, dear Im not feeling great. Tomorrow well go to the solicitor and put the cottage in your name. Youve always loved the countryside. It could be your dacha or you could sell it if you wish, Edward said, trailing off.
Emily tried to protesthe was still young, he could leave it to his children. Yet Edward was adamant.
She was stunned to discover the cottage sat in the very village where Grandpa George had lived! His house had long since been demolished, the plot sold, strangers now occupied it, but the thought of a little corner of her own sparked warm memories.
I dont deserve this, but thank you, Edward, she said sincerely.
Just one thing: dont tell Tom the house is in your name. And dont ask why. Can I trust you with that? he asked, deadserious.
Emily nodded, promising to keep his secret. How to explain the cottage to Tom remained a puzzle, but she could claim shed patched things up with her mother.
Later Emily learned Edward, besides nursing the effects of a stroke, also suffered from cancer. He refused surgery. In the end, Emily arranged his funeral and moved in with her future husband.
Trouble struck around the seventh month of her pregnancyby then theyd lived together six months.
Maybe you should work a bit before the baby arrives, Tom suggested.
Emily had already quit the clinic Edward had gotten her into, hoping to live on savings with Toms support. His suggestion stung.
Well maybe she replied uncertainly. She did the shopping, yet Tom proved stingy. The baby was growing, and she still wanted the wedding.
A week before the planned ceremony, while Tom was out, a stranger slipped into their flat with her own key.
Hello, Im Lena. Tom and I are together, and hes just too shy to tell you. So Ill say it: youre no longer needed, the tall, wiry blonde declared, confidence oozing.
What? Our wedding is in a few days! Weve already paid for everything! Emily stammered. Shed footed most of the modest café reception costs.
I know, no problem. Tom will marry me. I have contacts at the registry office; well sort it fast, Lena said, as if it were already decided.
When Tom finally appeared, he muttered:
Emily, Im sorry Its true. Ill help with the baby but cant marry you.
Well do a paternity test, Lena added, placing a hand on Toms shoulder.
A paternity test?! Youre my only one! Emily shouted, lunging at him.
Shell scar you, love! Shes nearly thirty but acts like a schoolgirl! Lena snapped.
Tom stood mute, offering no defence, eyes cast down. It became clear: everything hinged on Lena; he was merely a passive observer.
Emily packed her belongings. There was no point fighting a man who abandoned her so easily. Lena claimed she and Tom had dated long agoshed been married then, now free. Emily was just a placeholder until the dream woman returned.
She could have demanded answers from Tom, but why? Hed let Lena waltz in and take over.
So the cottage finally comes in handy, Emily thought.
The cottage was modest, without running water, but the woodburning stove was splendidGrandpa George had taught Emily everything she needed for rural life. It was livable. How to give birth alone? There was still time; shed figure it out.
Firewood was stacked, the shed sturdy, and fresh snow lay at the doorway, waiting to be cleared. The logs were plentifula real treasure in a cold winter!
It helped that Edward had introduced her to the neighbours as the new lady of the house, sparing her unnecessary questions.
Emily, of course, phoned Mum and her sisters. As expected, they lectured her to give the baby up to a childrens home and warned, Next time, dont get involved with anyone before youre married. They also chattered about how Tom hadnt repaid the wedding money, half of which Emily had covered.
No one knew about the cottage. Now Emily could hide, gather herself, and plan.
It was bonechilling, and she hadnt even shed her down jacket. While raking coals in the stove, her poker struck something hard.
She slipped off her gloves and pulled out a wooden box that had been wedged among the logs. It was neatly sealed, the lid bearing bold letters: Emily, this is for you. The handwriting was unmistakably Edwards.
Inside lay photographs, a letter, and a small tin. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the note:
Dear Emily, you should know I am your greatuncle, your grandfathers brother. He asked me to look after you.
The letter explained that years earlier a serious rift had split the brothers. Before he died, the elder sibling found Edward and asked him to locate Emily after she turned eighteen. He also left her an inheritance that his daughter would never part with.
Edward hadnt been able to find Emily straight awayher mother and sisters hid her address. Fate, however, brought them together in the hospital when he was a patient and she was his doctor. He wanted to tell her earlier but ran out of time, so he arranged for the cottagebought from him while his brother was aliveknowing the daughter would never receive anything from her grandmother.
A second shock arrived in the letter: Emilys mother was not her biological mother. Emily was the daughter of her late aunt, the very sister shed envied. In the photograph, a young couple hugged a little girlEmilys real parents. She survived because she was with Grandpa George on the day of the accident.
Nestled in the box were fivehundredpound notes left by George. Touching them warmed her heart. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Now she and her baby were safe.
When she lit the stove, the flames seemed to consume all the old grudges, betrayals, and hurts. She would start afreshfor the child and for herself.
Of course, in time she would forgive those whod wronged her. But she was done with them. This cottage would be her sanctuary.
Edward had always said a good house should belong to someone who cherishes it. Hed built it in his youth with his own hands, using the finest timber.
Not just a house, lovea wonder! Itll stand for two hundred years! he used to say. The village was a short bus ride awayjust two stops.
Sure, the pay was modest and babycare uncertain, but the main thing was that she now had a roof over her head, some savings, a respectable profession, youth, beauty, and a son on the way.
For the first time, Emily truly felt happy.
