Everlasting LoveThey promised each other forever, and though time tested their bond, it only deepened their devotion until the very end.

“Are we eating today?” – Dad stumbled into the kitchen and collapsed onto a stool at the table. The legs scraped unpleasantly across the floor. Mum stayed silent, and in her room, Emily tensed up.

“Who do you think I’m talking to? Look at me!” – Dad barked, slamming his fist on the table.

Emily knew Mum had turned around; fear oozed from her eyes.

“What are you staring at? Get me food! A man comes home from work. I know you women – you’d rather gossip and flirt than do anything useful,” he muttered, quieter now.

Mum clattered the dishes, snatching a plate from the drying rack above the sink in a fluster.

“Pasta again? I’m sick of it,” Dad snapped. Emily curled up in her room, waiting for the sound of a smashed plate. No, it didn’t happen… For a while, silence hung in the kitchen. Emily crept out and peeked through the doorway. Dad sat with his back to her. Mum waved her hand – go away. Emily vanished from the frame as if she’d never been there. She locked herself in her room, buried her head in a textbook, but stopped after every sentence to listen. Quiet, it seemed. Today Dad was fairly calm. Then she heard him shuffle past her door into the bedroom he shared with Mum, mumbling something, and then silence.

She heard this almost every day. She could tell from the sounds what was happening in the kitchen. Dad never held a steady job – couldn’t keep one because of his drinking, so he scraped by with odd jobs. When Mum wasn’t home, Emily tried not to be alone in the flat; she went to friends’ houses after school or sat on the stairs and waited for Mum.

“Hey. Why are you sitting on the stairs? Forget your keys?” – Tom stopped in front of Emily. He lived on the fifth floor.

“Something like that,” she mumbled. She felt ashamed that he’d caught her on the stairs.

Tom walked past, climbed two steps, and stopped.

“You’ll freeze – you can’t sit on concrete steps. Come to mine.”

Emily didn’t answer.

“Come on,” Tom said firmly, and she obeyed. He was a sixth-former, and she was used to listening to older kids.

Tom opened his front door and let Emily in first.

“Mum, I’m home. And I’m not alone!” – he shouted, slamming the door behind them.

“With who?” – Mary, Tom’s mum, stepped into the hallway.

“Hello,” Emily said quietly.

“Hello. Emily, isn’t it?”

“Guess what – I’m coming up the stairs and she’s sitting on the steps,” Tom said as he took off his coat.

“Forget your keys?” Mary asked. “Take off your coats and wash your hands, I’ll heat up lunch.”

Emily walked into the living room and looked around. The flat was the same layout as hers, but cosier and nicer. Lunch tasted wonderful, even though it was just chicken soup and pasta with sausages.

“Thank you, that was lovely,” she said.

“Next time, don’t sit on the stairs – come straight up to us,” Mary said. “Deal?”

Emily nodded.

“Thanks, Mum. We’re going to my room. Come on.” Tom stood up and gestured to Emily. She looked at Mary, who nodded in approval.

In Tom’s room, Emily was surprised – it was tidy, no clothes thrown around, clean. Posters of famous bands and colourful motorbikes hung on the wall.

“Do you like racing?” she asked.

“Not really – the posters just look cool.”

“I don’t have a computer. Well, I do, but Dad smashed the monitor. No money to buy a new one.”

“I’ve got a tablet – want to borrow it?” Tom offered at once.

“No, Dad would see it and sell it.”

“Then come here and study when you need to.”

“Have you decided where you’ll apply after school?” Emily touched a model plane. “Did you make this?”

“Of course. I want to go to aeronautical engineering college.”

“A pilot?”

“No – designing planes.” He smiled condescendingly.

All her classmates fancied him. Handsome. Tomorrow she’d tell the girls she’d been to Tom Smolins’ house – they’d be so jealous.

Time flew as they chatted. Emily glanced at her watch and jumped up.

“I have to go – Mum’s probably home by now.”

She didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. Tom walked her to the hall.

“Come by – don’t sit on the stairs,” he said as she left.

Emily entered her own flat and saw Mum’s coat on the hook. Clattering came from the kitchen – Mum was making dinner.

“Where have you been so late?” Mum peeked out from the kitchen.

“I was on the fifth floor, flat fifteen.”

“Don’t wander into other people’s flats. What will they think of us? Want dinner?”

“No – Aunty Mary fed me. I’m going to do homework. Is he home?”

“Can’t you hear him? Snoring like a train. Where did he get the money? Drunk again,” Mum sighed.

From then on, Emily often visited Tom. If she saw him in the corridor at school, she’d nod and blush. He’d say hi and walk on.

Sometimes Tom wasn’t home – he went to the gym in the evenings. Then Aunty Mary would talk about her son, and about her husband who’d died a few years ago.

Winter turned to spring, then summer. Emily stopped going up to Tom’s; she hung out with friends or sat on the bench outside the block.

“Why don’t you come round?” Tom asked one day when he met her outside. Emily shrugged.

“Have you finished your exams? When are you leaving for university?”

“I’m not leaving. I’ll study here at the polytechnic. I don’t want to leave Mum alone.”

“That’s great!” Emily beamed.

That autumn, she went to his place once – pretended she couldn’t solve a maths problem. But somehow they couldn’t chat like before. Emily felt shy around Tom, awkward and stiff. He’d changed – grown up, become even better looking.

That winter, Dad died – poisoned by cheap vodka. Mum didn’t cry, not even at the funeral, but Emily felt sorry for him. Now there was no need to wait for Mum after work, no reason to go up to Tom’s.

Mum still flinched at every phone ring, fear flashing in her eyes.

“Mum, what’s wrong? He’s gone,” Emily said.

“Just habit,” Mum replied.

Emily was in Year Twelve now. One evening she stood by the window, waiting for Tom.

“Why are you sitting in the dark? Still watching for Tom?” Mum entered the room and flicked the light switch.

“I’m just looking out the window,” Emily snapped, caught off guard.

“He’s grown up – he has a girlfriend. A pretty one. You should be doing your homework,” Mum sighed.

Tom has a girlfriend! Emily’s heart ached with jealousy and grief. She hadn’t seen Tom’s girlfriend, but she already hated her. Then one day she ran into them in the courtyard.

“Em? Hey, why don’t you come round?” Tom asked warmly. His girlfriend stood beside him, staring at Emily with icy eyes. Because she was tall, she looked down at Emily – almost contemptuously, like at a mouse. Tom was tall too, but he looked at Emily differently.

“What year are you in now?”

“Final year.”

“Time flies. You know, you’ve grown up – I barely recognise you. Where are you applying?”

“Tom, let’s go.” The girlfriend tugged his arm irritably.

“Bye – good luck!” Tom said, and they walked off arm in arm.

Emily watched them go. “Cold as a fish, with ice chips for eyes,” she thought angrily. “She should be called the Snow Queen, but that’s too kind.” And in her head she started calling the girlfriend Fishy.

Time passed. Emily finished school and got into medical school. Tom graduated, found a job, and soon bought a car. Emily learned to recognise its engine sound – she’d dash to the window when he pulled up to the block.

One day Emily was walking home from university and met Mary in the courtyard. Mary was walking slowly with a stick, noticeably limping.

“Hello, Aunty Mary,” Emily said. “What’s wrong? Why are you limping?”

“My leg hurts – can’t bear it. I can barely walk. The doctor says I need an operation – an artificial joint – but I’m scared,” Mary complained.

“Tell me what to buy – I’ll run to the shop, it’s no trouble,” Emily offered.

“Go on – Tom’s never home…”

So Emily started visiting Tom’s flat again, though she rarely saw him. She did the shopping, helped with the cleaning for his mum.

One day she plucked up courage and asked about Tom’s girlfriend.

“Well, Chloe is pretty, but so stuck-up. She’s always silent – you never know how to approach her. She feels like a stranger. You’re like family. Not the kind of bride I want for my son,” Mary sighed. “Why are you asking? Are you in love with him?”

Emily dropped her eyes.

“Don’t be sad. If you were a bit older, there’d be no better wife for Tom. You’ll find your love.”

“I don’t want another love,” Emily whispered, and ran out.

One day she went to Mary’s to ask what to buy at the shop. The door opened – it was Fishy.

“What do you want?” she asked rudely.

“I came to see Aunty Mary…”

“She’s not here. Tom took her to hospital in the car.”

Fishy seemed to lift her chin deliberately to look down at Emily.

“Why do you keep hanging around here?” Fishy’s ice-chip eyes glittered.

“I’m not hanging around – I’m helping Aunty Mary, doing shopping.”

“Some help. Don’t come here anymore. If anything’s needed, I’ll help myself. Tom and I are getting married soon, and we’ll live here. Go away – things go missing after you,” Fishy said rudely.

“What things?” Emily flared up.

“A ring. I left it on the bathroom sink. When I came back, it was gone. You took it – no one else did.”

“I never go past the hallway!” Emily shouted angrily.

“I don’t know – maybe you came in when I wasn’t here. Better give it back nicely, or I’ll call the police.” Fishy leaned forward, tilting her head. Those cold, angry eyes were right up close. Emily recoiled.

“I didn’t take your ring!”

“Prove it.” Fishy stepped forward, her ice-chip eyes nearly touching Emily’s. Emily couldn’t take it – she spun around, yanked the door open, and bumped into Tom.

“What are you two shouting about? Can hear it on the stairs.” Tom looked from Emily to Fishy. Emily glanced back.

Fishy straightened up and smiled sweetly at Tom.

“You’re back?” she asked, as if nothing had happened.

Emily wanted to run, but Tom grabbed her arm.

“What happened?”

“She… she accused me of stealing her ring. I didn’t take anything – I never even went to the bathroom.”

“What ring?” Tom held Emily’s arm firmly, staring at Fishy.

“The one with the pink stone. I think I lost it – I don’t know where I left it. I asked if she’d seen it,” Fishy explained in a honeyed voice.

“She’s lying! She said I stole it, she was going to call the police!” Emily pulled her arm free and fled down the stairs, tears choking her.

“Go to hell, both of you!” Emily cried desperately as she burst into her own flat and slammed the door.

“What’s wrong?” Mum popped her head out.

“Mum!” Emily ran to her and told her everything.

“The ring will turn up – don’t cry. Tom will sort it out,” Mum comforted her sobbing daughter.

The next day, Tom came himself. Mum wasn’t home.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Emily led him into her room. He saw a photograph of himself on the shelf of her bureau and smirked. Emily had completely forgotten about it. She flushed and looked down.

“Stole it from me, did you? And you say you don’t steal.” Emily was flustered and blushed even deeper.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I came to apologise. The ring was found.”

“Where?”

“Does it matter?” Now Tom looked away.

“Yes, it matters. She accused me of theft. Do you think that’s pleasant?” Emily’s voice trembled with hurt.

Tom took her by the shoulders.

“Em, I’m sorry. I never for a second believed you took it. Honestly. Chloe didn’t like you coming over so often, so she decided to slander you – to stop you visiting. As for the ring… it fell out of her pocket when she dropped her jacket.”

“And you’ll forgive her? What if she accuses your mum of stealing? She’s capable of anything. Fishy is cold!”

“Stop it! She’s just jealous.” Tom looked at Emily sternly and took his hands off her shoulders.

“Tom! Don’t you see?”

“See what?” Tom looked at her with pity. He was clearly tired of this conversation.

“I love you!” Emily blurted out, startling herself with her boldness. “I’ve loved you since Year Seven. Tom – please don’t marry her.” Tears trembled in her eyes, and Tom’s face blurred.

“Em, are you crying? There’s no wedding. We broke up.”

“Really?” Emily blinked, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You’re silly.” Tom pulled her close. “Mum’s coming out of hospital next week. Go help her out if you can.”

“Of course! You didn’t need to ask.”

Tom left looking sad and thoughtful, but Emily nearly jumped for joy. No wedding!

Emily visited Aunty Mary every day – did the shopping, mopped the floors, even helped cook. She never saw Tom – he came home late. She spent every evening on the fifth floor. Mum just shook her head.

One day Emily bumped into Tom on the stairs. He clearly smelled of alcohol.

“Tom, have you been drinking?” Emily stared at him in horror, remembering her father, the fear in her mother’s eyes…

“So what?” He swayed toward her. Emily stepped back, her eyes wide with fright. “Em, why are you looking at me like that? Don’t worry – I won’t end up like your dad…” he said suddenly in a sober voice.

On Saturday he came to Emily’s with a bouquet and asked her to the cinema. She was so happy!

Now Tom never stayed out late – he hurried home, where Emily waited with his mum. He stopped drinking. They often went to the cinema, just walked around, sat in his room and kissed…

At last, Emily’s love melted Tom’s heart.

“Be happy, you two. Don’t hurt her, Tom,” Mum said when he proposed to Emily.

“I promise – I’ll never hurt her…” Emily pressed against him like a slender sapling against a tall oak.