Victoria knows exactly how to roll cabbage rolls so they keep their shape, and she knows the quickest route to the airport even during rush hour. She can write a complaint to the building manager that will not only be read but acted upon immediately. The taps in her flat never leak, and the neighbours upstairs tiptoe away after a single visit from her for a chat.
Everything is expected of Victoria. She has a daughter, Elsie.
When Elsie turns six, Victoria launches Operation Best School. She creates an Excel sheet filled with ratings, reviews, teacher qualifications and whether the canteen is under renovation. She tours twelve schools herself, interrogating each deputy head while scanning the playgrounds with a scrutinising gaze. She checks the bus routes, confident that by the time Elsie reaches Year Five she will be able to get home unaided.
In the end, Academy No3, with its allround curriculum, wins. The teachers are masters of their craft, the headmaster a charismatic leader who secures sponsors for the latest equipment. Pupils perform French plays after lessons and play chess in the hall.
Victoria dresses Elsie for the first school assembly. The dress is modest, a checked dress with a silk, skyblue bow that matches her daughters eyes. The bouquet is a spray of white asters, free of gaudy gladioli. Elsie allows herself to be dressed, then, as they step out of the flat, she brushes a newly painted gate with her hand. A long blue streak runs across the flawless dress.
Victoria never raises her voice.
Her own mother once screamed until she was hoarse, and Victoria swore she would never do that. She simply squeezes Elsies hand hard enough to make her whimper, then leads her back to change into a new dressplain grey, utterly unremarkable. They rush, breathless, into the assembly as the last ones to arrive. In the photo shoot Elsies hair is tangled, the asters droop.
From that moment a quiet war begins. Victoria builds an immaculate line of defence, while Elsie always finds a crack.
The daughter hands in a failing maths test just before the trustees meeting, chaired by Victoria herself. Victoria had arranged a class trip to Birmingham and secured free swimming pool passes for the gifted youngsters. The failing grade feels like a shame.
Or another tale. Elsie grows quiet, spending every spare minute drawing in her sketchbook. When Victoria suggests she make a friendsay, Lily, the gregarious daughter of a colleagueElsie simply shakes her head and buries herself in the album.
Why not, love? Victoria coaxes, her voice sweet as syrup. Itll be more fun together! Ill buy you a tasty cake or bake your favourite apple crumble
No, thank you, Elsie replies stubbornly.
Victoria still invites Lily over, laying out a spread of miniature sandwiches and hot chocolate. Lily, in a bright dress, chatters about the latest teenage fashions. Elsie sits in a corner on the sofa, glued to her sketchbook, drawing. No matter how Victoria tries to draw her into conversation, Elsie remains silent. When Victoria reaches for the sketchbook, Elsie lifts her eyes, a silent rebuke so sharp that Victoria steps back.
Lily, weary of talking to a wall, politely says, I must be going, Aunt Victoria. Thank you, and leaves without a glance at Elsie. Victoria watches her daughter hide behind the sketchbook like a shield, and for the first time she feels a hatred of art.
Soon a new pupil arrives: Katie, a boisterous girl from a rough neighbourhood who barely scrapes a C. Her energy erupts in ways like sawing off a physics teachers stool leg or painting philosophical graffiti in the boys bathroom: Plato is a friend, but truth is dearer.
One evening, at dinner, Elsie says calmly:
Mum, theyve called you into the school tomorrow.
Victoria doesnt press for details. She spends the evening sipping valerian, and the next morning, with a stonecold expression, she walks into the headmasters office. It turns out the teachers, believing that the meek Elsie could tame the unruly Katie, have seated them together. It works at first, then chaos erupts. Someone swaps all the pens for disappearing ink. Someone, posing as the deputy head, texts the PE teacher that the lesson is cancelled due to an unexpected healthinspection.
They catch Katie trying to paint a Kant quote on the sports hall wall, copying it from a slip of paper written in neat Elsies hand: Character is the ability to act on principles. Of course Katie has never read Kant.
This is libel, Victoria declares icily. You have no proof. Ive done so much for this academy, and you speak to me like that.
Of course, MrsVictoria, the headmaster whispers conspiratorially. We did seat them together. But you understand, Katie is a fiery girlwho would think of using disappearing ink without a wild imagination?
Victoria leaves the office, whisking Elsie out of chemistry under the pretense of a dentist appointment.
They walk in silence. In the middle of a quiet lane Victoria suddenly stops, turns Elsie toward her, and sees in her daughters eyes not remorse but a calm, cold resolve.
What do you want? Victoria asks.
To never have you invite Lily over again, Elsie says flatly. Dont invite anyone.
Victoria nods wordlessly.
The school incident is swept under the carpet, and Katie is soon transferred elsewhere.
In Year8, Victoria enrolls Elsie in an art college, insisting, It will develop her sense of beauty and help her socialise. Elsie protests, but Victoria, heart heavy, retorts, You cant refuse what youve never tried.
The talented daughter of the trustees is placed in the senior painting group, and the strange shift begins. Elsie, whose sketches once brimmed with life, now produces dull, technically flawless yet soulless stilllifes. She is gradually moved to the junior group, then reduced to monotonous hatching exercises. The pinnacle of her career becomes a monthlong assignment to redraw a plaster cube under varying lights.
Victoria attends every student exhibition, where Elsies modest works hang in the farthest corner.
Year11 arrives. Remembering her Herculean effort to choose a school, Victoria prepares a detailed analysis of job markets, prospects, and entry grades. On a giltrimmed tray she presents Elsie with a list of five economics and law courses.
She soon discovers her labours have been in vain. Elsie gains a place on the animation programme at the capitals Academy of Arts, on a full scholarship.
Darling, are you sure about this? Victorias voice trembles, a storm of panic roiling inside her.
Absolutely, Mum, Elsie replies, her very steady, very blue eyes unchanged.
They travel to London. Victoria sits in a corridor with a list of consolation London business schools on her knees, ready to catch her weeping daughter and steer her toward a stable future.
Elsie emerges from the lecture hall with the same unflappable expression.
Everything looks fine. Lets grab a pizza, she suggests.
Victoria cant believe it. Yet when the results are posted, Elsies name appears among the successful applicants.
Why? Victoria cant hold back. All those years at the art school those endless cubes Why? You had talent!
I did, Elsie admits.
Then why? Victoria nearly screams.
Because it wasnt what I needed, the seventeenyearold says. It was what you needed.
Victorias legs give way and she collapses onto a nearby bench.
Beside her stands her daughtertalented, stubborn, entering the nations top university against all odds. In that moment Victoria realises she never truly raised her daughter; she tried to mould her to fit her own blueprint, to write a predictable route for her life. Elsie has always been alive, unpredictable, slipping through the cracks of maternal pressure. Victoria understands she has lost her quiet war. For the first time, she has no plan for tomorrow and no clue what to do with that emptiness.
