“Auntie Olivia, you need to leave our house. Mum wants to come back and live here, and I’m glad. She’s our real mother, and you’re nothing to us. Please pack your things quickly.” Olivia gazed sorrowfully at Annie, the girl she had raised for the last ten years, filling the role of mother for her and her brother.
And now she was being thrown out. Olivia wouldn’t have stayed anyway, but being told to leave—by someone she loved, someone she’d given all her warmth and care to—that stung. The suitcases were packed, and now the only thing left was to call a cab. At least she had somewhere to go—her late husband had made sure of that. Ten years ago…
“Liv, come live with me properly. Enough hiding.”
“Val, we should talk to your children first. What if they don’t want me here?”
“They will—I’ve already spoken to them. They miss having a woman’s touch in their lives.”
There were things that unsettled Olivia. What about her small flat? Her only son had taken vows and lived in a monastery. Renting it out seemed too risky—tenants could ruin it beyond repair.
Val suggested selling the flat and putting the money into a high-interest savings account. She agreed. Packing only the essentials, she moved in with him. The flat sold quickly, and the money went straight into Olivia’s account.
Val had two school-aged children. His ex-wife, their mother, had succumbed to drink and vanished years ago. He was a successful farmer, had built a sturdy home, and was steady on his feet. They’d met at a friend’s gathering. Olivia—quiet, kind—had caught his eye. After years battling his wife’s addiction, he’d forgotten what it was like to be with a woman who wasn’t drowning in chaos.
Olivia taught piano at a music school. Divorced long ago, she lived alone. Her son had dreamt of serving God since childhood, and when he came of age, he did just that. She respected his choice, though it meant no grandchildren—perhaps even no son, in a way.
With Val, she felt beautiful again. He brought her flowers, took her to the cinema and little country pubs. His children didn’t scare her, so moving in was easy.
“What should we call you? Auntie Liv?”
“Of course, Tommy. Come on, supper’s ready—I made a pie and some cordial.”
The children devoured her home-cooked meals. Olivia struggled to keep up—their appetites were bottomless. She quit her job; the money was enough. The kids liked her well enough—a kind aunt was all they needed.
Annie turned sixteen. Her father forbade her from going to the disco.
“Val, she’s grown! What’s the harm in letting her dance?”
“Liv, it’s nonsense. She ought to focus on her studies!”
“She gets straight As—what more do you want?”
Val waved a hand. Fine. Do as you please. Annie grinned at Olivia and dashed off to get ready.
Tommy got into a fight at school. Val reached for his belt. Olivia caught his arm.
“Stop it, Val. Boys fight—it’s what they do. Let him learn to stand his ground. Don’t humiliate him like this.”
Val lowered his hand. Olivia was right. His own father had beaten him—he’d thought it normal. But she had talked sense into him.
Then came Annie’s first heartbreak. She sobbed into Olivia’s shoulder, swearing life wasn’t worth living without Robbie. Olivia stroked her hair and assured her she was brilliant, lovely, and would find someone better. They did face masks, brewed fruity tea, and watched a film. Eventually, Annie dried her tears.
Annie graduated, went to university, married. When her son was born, Olivia helped with the baby. Tommy enlisted in the army and never left, sending letters home. Life was good.
Then Val died suddenly. A heart attack. The paramedics couldn’t revive him.
The funeral was packed—Val had been well-loved. Olivia arranged everything perfectly. She couldn’t believe he was gone.
“Liv—look. Val’s ex is here. Showed up at the funeral. Didn’t care about the kids all these years. Look at her—wrecked by drink…”
Olivia spotted a disheveled, bloated woman lingering near Annie.
Not long before he passed, Val had seemed uneasy.
“Liv, let’s take the money and buy you a flat. Shouldn’t have sold yours—property prices have soared.”
She shrugged and agreed. By some stroke of luck, her old flat was back on the market. They bought it and let it to friends. Val was pleased.
Now, Olivia was obsolete. Their real mother had returned—of course they’d choose her. She had every right to be forgiven.
The door closed softly behind her. Olivia took one last look at the house where she’d been happy. Time to start again. Alone. Without Val, without the children. They’d made their choice. She was nobody to them, after all. It hurt, but what could she do? Life went on.