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would have happened. Nothing was ever the same again and her dreams of being a ballerina were crushed.
    From that day on Beryl and her mother grew apart. Magdalena adored Billy. He was the youngest of the two children and the apple of her eye. But he was also a musical genius; a gifted child who was being trained as a concert pianist. His playing was already concert material by the time he was two years old, and he would conduct his mother in time as she played. He was born a genius, and he was being studied carefully for a future career on the world stage. And although Beryl had been a talented dancer from a very young age, she didn’t compare to the favoured member of the family, Billy. His amazing talents not only excelled in music, but he began to show the same artistic flair as his mother too, which all added to the admiration and pride she felt for him as she nurtured his abilities.
    Beryl however, had always dreamed of impressing her father, and whilst he had never shown great paternal instincts to any of his children, she knew she was more like her father than her mother, and therefore leaned more towards him rather than try to compete with Billy. She couldn’t wait to impress her father when they returned with the good news from London. But it wasn’t to be. Her father and brother were never seen again.
    Magdalena never recovered from her son’s loss. He was only six years old when he was taken by his father and no-one ever knew their whereabouts, or what had happened to them. They were written off by the authorities eventually and no-one knew if they were dead or alive.
    As for Beryl she was only ten years old and her loss was two-fold. Not only had she lost the only chance she had to become a dancer, she had also lost the one person who she could relate to – her father.
    From then on life was intolerable and empty for Beryl. She watched her mother’s decline, as all interest in life was gone. She more or less had to fend for herself, as well as taking care of her mother for what it was worth. But she was unable to fix things as Magdalena was inconsolable. Seven years later Beryl left too, to seek her fortune in London. She simply packed a few things and walked out of the door and never came back. They were never in touch again.
    Beryl had no conscience because she was her father’s daughter. She felt no remorse and didn’t have a problem putting her own interests before anyone else’s feelings. She never stopped to think about what would happen to her mother, she didn’t really care. Her own draw to London had a stronger place in her heart than any family interest. She had followed in her father’s footsteps and abandoned her mother by walking out of the family home without as much as a word. And she didn’t even bother to leave a note. She was convinced that her mother wouldn’t even notice she’d gone anyway – and too heartless to even care.
    Now she was back and she intended to claim what was rightfully hers. She had heard through the grapevine that the house had been burgled so many times over the years that there was hardly anything left inside it. Apparently rumours were rife that the old woman ‘had lost it’ and wouldn’t have any idea if anyone slipped into the house. Now Beryl had returned she could see that the rumours were genuinely founded. The house didn’t resemble the once grand house she had left behind all those years ago. It had clearly suffered from the elements and neglect over those many years. And it was now hard to imagine her mother being the competent musician and pianist that she’d once been, as well as having taught Art and Sculpture. She had been a very talented sculptress and had held many exhibitions in London, her sculptures being widely sought all over the world.
    Magdalena had been very beautiful, articulate and well-educated. She was sophisticated and refined, which made it more the pity that Beryl hadn’t followed in her footsteps; but she was too much like