“Mum, we’re fine without your advice,” said the daughter before heading to her friend’s place.
“Mum, where’s my blue jumper? The one with the high neck?” called Olivia from the hallway, rattling the coat hangers.
Helen set aside her book about managing diabetes through diet and rose from the sofa.
“Its in the wash, love. Why dyou need it? Its ten degrees outside.”
“Im going to Emilys. Her house is freezing. Mum, wheres the grey cardigan then?”
“Which grey one? You said just yesterday it was boring.” Helen walked to the wardrobe, sifting through the clothes. “Here, take the pink oneit suits you.”
Olivia poked her head in, wrinkling her nose.
“Im going to a friends, not on a date. Pinks too dressy.”
“Looking nice never hurt anyone,” her mother smiled. “Remember what I used to say when you were little? First impressions count. So both matterwhat you wear and whats in your head.”
Olivia rolled her eyes and pulled on the first jumper she found.
“Liv, are you sure its just Emilys? Maybe stay in? Her parents are awayjust you two there. At your age…” Helen hesitated, searching for words.
“Mum, Im seventeen. What, you think were going to take drugs or something?” scoffed Olivia, zipping her coat.
“No, of course not, but… what if someone else comes round? Boys? Liv, you know how things are these days. Why not invite Emily here? Ive made soup, baked pies.”
Olivia froze, slowly turning.
“Mum, stop! Stop controlling me! Im old enough to decide where I go!”
“But darling, Im not controlling youIm just worried! Youre my only one. If anything happened…”
“Nothing will happen! God, why cant you just trust me?” Olivia yanked up her zip. “Im going to Emilys to work on history homework, notI dont know what youre imagining!”
“Im not imagining anything,” Helen said, hurt. “Its just, in my day, girls behaved differently. We talked to our parents first.”
“Exactlyyour day! Its not the same now, Mum!”
Helen sighed, leaning against the doorframe. No, it wasnt the same. And her daughter wasnt the same either. Not like shed been at seventeenworking shifts at the factory, helping raise three younger brothers. No time for casual visits. And if she did go out, shed ask permission, report every detail.
“Liv, I dont mind you going to Emilys. But promise youll call in a few hours, let me know youre alright?”
“Mum, do I have to?” Olivia groaned. “Am I five?”
“No. But itll put my mind at ease. Please?”
Olivia thought, then nodded.
“Fine. Ill call. But not every half-hour, deal?”
“Deal,” Helen smiled in relief.
After Olivia left, Helen tried to read, but her thoughts kept circling back. Her girl was growing up. Pulling away. It was natural, but letting go was harder than shed thought.
Olivia used to tell her everythingsecrets, questions, little worries. Now she was guarded, answering in monosyllables, bristling at questions. Helen didnt know if she was doing the right thing, guiding and warning her.
Her own mother had been strict. No freedoms. Always knowing where she was. And Helen was grateful. Maybe thats why she was so afraidwithout her watch, would Olivia make mistakes?
An hour later, the phone rang.
“Mum, its me. All fine. Doing history homework. Emily says hi.”
“Thanks for calling. When will you be back for dinner?”
“About nine, I think. Lots to do.”
“Alright. Ill warm up the soup. Be careful.”
“Mum, stop! Im practically next door, not trekking the Sahara. Bye.”
Helen hung up, shaking her head. Next door, two streets over. Yet her worry felt like her daughter had crossed continents.
Maybe she was being overbearing? At her age, shed had a friend, Jess, whose mother tracked her every move. Jess said it suffocated her. Then, at eighteen, she ran off with the first boy she metjust to escape. Married badly, divorced, suffered. Helen didnt want that for Olivia.
But letting go was terrifying. The world wasnt like before. Girls disappeared, got mixed up in bad crowds. Olivia was still naive, trusting. Clever, but inexperienced.
By eight, Helen was fidgeting. Too early to call, but unease crept in. What if theyd gone out? What if Olivia was too embarrassed to say?
At half-eight, she dialled. Long rings, then an unfamiliar male voice.
“Hello?”
“Sorry, may I speak to Olivia? Its her mum.”
“Who? Theres no Olivia here.”
Helens blood ran cold.
“What? Is Emily home?”
“Emily? No. Youve got the wrong number.”
Helen hung up, hands shaking.
What was happening? Where was she? Had she misdialed? No, she knew Emilys number by heart. Her dad mustve returned early, not realising the girls were home. Or… had they gone out? Olivia promised to call if plans changed!
Pacing, Helen peered out the window every few minutes, hoping to spot Olivia returning.
At nine, Olivia called.
“Mum, on my way. Be back in ten.”
“Liv! Where were you? I called Emilyssome man said no one was home!”
“Oh, thats Uncle Mark. Emily and I went to the library for research. I told youhistory homework.”
“But why didnt you say you were leaving?”
“Mum, its the local library! Whats the big deal?”
“Liv, we agreed! You promised to call if plans changed!”
“They didnt change! We were still working, just not at hers! I cant call for every little thing!”
Helen bit back argumentsabout worry, about promisesnot wanting a row.
When Olivia returned, Helen served reheated soup and pies. Olivia ate silently, giving one-word answers.
“Hows Emily? Parents back?”
“Dads home. Mums back tomorrow.”
“Whats the project on?”
“World War Two. The Blitz.”
“Oh, fascinating! My grandadyour great-grandadwas a boy during the Blitz. He used to say”
“Mum, Im tired. Can I go to bed?” Olivia cut in.
“Of course, love. Night.”
Olivia left, and Helen cleared the table, unease lingering. Something was off. Olivia used to love family stories. Now there was a wall between them.
Days later, Helen bumped into Emilys mum, Sarah, at the shops. Theyd known each other for years.
“Sarah! How was your trip?”
“Lovely! Though Mark fell illwe cut it short. Hows Olivia? Emily says shes been down lately.”
“Down? I thought she was just… independent now. Used to talk everything over, now makes her own calls.”
“Thats normal,” Sarah smiled. “They grow up. Emily announced yesterday she wants to do hairdressing instead of uni. Can you imagine?”
“Whats wrong with that? Good hairdressers earn more than some engineers.”
“Helen! Shes got a maths brain! Should be in tech, something solid. Not snipping hair! I told her straightits nonsense.”
Helen nodded, but something twinged. Was it right to dismiss childrens dreams?
“And Olivia? Any plans?”
“Wants to study literature. Loves books. Though I suggested medicinesteady work.”
“Oh, literatures grand! Though jobs are scarce…”
Helen walked home, musing. Literature degrees were tricky. Teaching paid poorly. Medicine was stable, respected.
At home, Olivia was scribbling in a notebook.
“Liv, hows the homework?”
“Fine. English essay.”
“On what?”
“Female characters in classics.”
“Ah! Like Elizabeth Bennet? Jane Eyre?”
“Tess of the dUrbervilles.”
Helen sat on the bed, intrigued.
“What about her?”
“How she fought for herself,” Olivia said flatly.
“But… it ends badly.”
“She chose her own path. Didnt let others decide.”
Something in Olivias tone set Helen on edge.
“Liv… is something upsetting you?”
“No, Mum.”
“School trouble? Fallout with Emily?”
“Mum, Im fine! Cant I just write in peace?”
Helen retreated to the kitchen, unease gnawing. Something was off.
Next morning, after Olivia left, Helen tidied her room. Not snoopingjust dusting. Then she spotted an open notebook. Not an
