If you only knew what my little sister up in London does, I’d never even mention her—let alone brag about it.

April12th

I cant help but smile when I think about todays endless parade of neighbourly gossip, though it leaves a sour aftertaste. Margaret, the woman who lives two doors down, was in the garden bragging to anyone whod listen about her daughter. My girl is a genius! she crowed, hands waving as if shed just won the lottery. She aced every exam this term and even picks up extra work she doesnt ask us for a penny!

I tried not to roll my eyes. Im jealous, Margaret, her neighbour sighed, my children only know how to beg for money. They never want to study. Lucy says shell be married straight out of college she expects the husband to provide. And my son she gestured helplessly, clearly exhausted by her own brood. Your Emily is brilliant; she plans to live on her wits alone.

I heard all that from my perch a few steps away, muttering under my breath. I was halfeager to get home; my mother still hadnt finished her errands, and, with my father away on a work trip, the honour of carrying the shopping bags fell to me today. If you only knew what my sister is up to in London, you wouldnt be bragging at all, I thought, trying not to laugh.

Did you say something? Margaret snapped, eyes narrowed on me as I pretended to be lost in thought. She was impatient, as if Id taken five minutes too long to answer. I swallowed my reply.

Yes, Mum, I said calmly. I have a presentation tomorrow and an essay to finish. Maybe youll have time to boast about me another day.

She huffed, What, you and your father! Dont stop anyone from talking! and we all shuffled off.

Seeing the relief on the other neighbours faces, I realised theyd had enough of being caught in Margarets spotlight. She kept repeating stories about Emily, each time with such a reverent tone that it sounded as if Emily were a living ideal, a benchmark for everyone else. Only I knew the truth and I kept it to myself, not wanting Mum to worry.

***

Later, a sharply dressed woman hovered at the hallway. Is Emily Marshall living here? she asked, her stare cutting through Margarets composure. Two men behind her added no comfort at all.

My daughter lives in London, studying at university, Margaret replied proudly. What do you want with her?

The stranger smirked. University? Emily? Seriously? She fled after her first term. She didnt pass a single exam because she never attended lectures she was out looking for a boyfriend.

Oh, you dare speak about my child! Margaret snapped, the tremor in her voice betraying panic. Ill sue you for defamation! She fell silent, the hallway suddenly heavy with tension. Inviting this woman inside would be to admit she had a point. Ignoring her seemed pointless after all, rumours spread whether theyre true or not.

My son will decide, Thomas, my brother, interjected, stopping his mothers protest. Theres no need to feed the gossip.

Thomas! I whispered, surprised at his sudden authority. At sixteen he already carried a weight I only half understood. He ushered the guests into the sitting room, gesturing toward the sofa. The lady took the armchair a few steps away; the two men simply stood.

Thomas! How could you invite them in? Did you hear what she said about Emily? Margaret hissed.

I heard, he replied, irritation flashing. Thats why I let them in. With Father away, Im holding the family together. I need to minimise the damage.

Maybe you know more about my sister, the lady teased, a hint of malice in her voice. Where is she now?

In London, Thomas said with a crooked smile. She doesnt stay in a dorm she rents a flat that her boyfriend pays for. He paused, then added, Hes about twenty years older than Emily, has three grownup children and is filthy rich.

His name George, is it? she pressed.

Are you his wife? Thomas asked, tightening his grip on the polite façade. Where is my reckless sister in all this?

No, Im his sister Ive had enough of my brothers antics, the woman replied coldly. George has a wonderful wife and a daughter from a business partnership. He gets upset when other women linger around him. Hes even considering divorce.

Of course that must not happen, Thomas muttered. Smart lad, any clue where she might be?

Not a clue, I admitted, but her friend might know. I could call her, but first I want to hear your plans. I have one sister, you know.

Thomas, what does all this mean? Whos George? What flat? What happened to my daughter? Margarets face drained of colour. She stumbled toward the bathroom where she kept her pills.

Should I call an ambulance? she asked, voice wavering.

I waved her off. Of course Id called. The neighbourhood nurse, MrsBaines, promised to be there within five minutes. She must have been nearby.

Thomas how do you know all this? Margaret begged, disbelief etched in every line of her face. My daughter how can I live with this?

Remember when Emily last showed up, her phone broke? She borrowed my laptop to chat with a friend and couldnt log out. I read through some of her messages, got a bit surprised, and asked directly. She didnt deny anything, just asked me not to tell you.

I felt a pang of guilt for my mothers endless pride. She loves to parade my achievements, medals, certificates, to anyone wholl listen. I blush every time she does it, but I also understand her need to feel proud.

Later, after the nurses had settled Margaret onto a bed under their watch, I returned to the guests, eager to learn the womans true intentions regarding my sister.

So, what are you planning? I asked.

Nothing illegal, she said, sliding a folded note across the coffee table. Just a bit of money and introductions to some respectable, single men. If shes clever, shell land a good husband.

I sighed heavily. Very well, I whispered, already dreading the conversation that would follow. My friend Natalie had turned out to be bold and mischievous, and now I was caught in the middle of a closedterm scandal. Perhaps my brother wanted to give his sister a gift, but with her living miles away, the only delivery method would be a courier.

Here, I handed her the paper. I hope you keep your word.

She nodded, Ill be discreet.

As she left the flat, she shouted loudly enough for the curious ears down the corridor to hear: Sorry for the disturbance, but we needed a private chat. No nasty rumors, please. I apologise personally to Emily, but I trust the people here are decent and wont gossip.

Rumours did spread, but they were weak. Margaret immediately shut them down, begging people not to tarnish her daughters name. She bragged far less after that, and even left the house more often.

Thomas spoke with Father over the phone, and they reached a joint decision to move. Margaret felt mortified, realizing shed been deceiving the neighbours all along.

And so, on a bright Saturday, we packed up and relocated. As I told the inquisitive neighbours, we were heading closer to London, nearer to Emily. Better doctors there, I said, and Mum hasnt been feeling well lately.

Emily never returned; she did manage to marry well and, as far as I know, left the family completely behind.

Its strange how quickly pride can turn into shame, and how the truth, once spoken, reshapes everything. Ill keep writing, hoping this diary will help me make sense of it all.