**Diary Entry 11th May**
“Easier without your advice,” my daughter said before storming out to her friends house.
“Mum, wheres my blue jumper? The one with the high neck?” Emily shouted from the hallway, hangers rattling as she rummaged.
Helen put down her book on managing diabetes through diet, sighing as she rose from the sofa.
“In the wash, love. Why dyou need it? Its ten degrees outside.”
“Going to Sophiesher flats freezing. Then wheres my grey cardigan?”
“The grey one? You said yesterday it was boring,” Helen muttered, shuffling through the wardrobe. “Here, take the pink one. It suits you.”
Emily peered around the door, wrinkling her nose.
“Im seeing my mate, not going on a date. Pinks too dressy.”
“Never hurts to look nice,” Helen smiled. “Remember what I always told you? First impressions matter. So does the rest, mind, but it starts with how you present yourself.”
Emily rolled her eyes, yanking on the nearest jumper.
“Em, youre *sure* its just Sophies? Her parents are awayjust you two alone. At your age…” Helen hesitated, choosing her words.
“Mum, Im seventeen. What, dyou think well be doing drugs?” Emily scoffed, zipping her coat.
“No! But what if lads turn up? Emily, these daysyou hear such awful things. Why not invite Sophie here? Ive made stew, baked pies…”
Emily froze, turning slowly.
“Mum. *Stop.* Stop controlling me! Im not a kidI decide where I go!”
“Im not controlling you, Im *worried!*” Helen spread her hands helplessly. “Youre my only girlif something happened”
“Nothing *will!* God, why cant you trust me? Im doing *history coursework* at Sophies, notwhatever youve imagined!”
Helen leaned against the doorframe, exhaling. Different times. Different girl. At seventeen, shed been working at a factory, helping raise her three younger brothers. No casual visits to friendsand if shed gone, shed have reported every detail.
“Em, I dont mind you going. But ring me in a few hours, yeah? Let me know youre alright.”
“*Mum*,” Emily groaned. “Im not five.”
“No. But itd ease my mind. Please.”
Emily relented with a nod. “Fine. Ill call. But not every half-hour, deal?”
Helen smiled, relieved.
When Emily left, Helen picked up her book but couldnt focus. Her girl was growing up, pulling away. Natural, but God, it hurt.
She used to share everythingsecrets, questions. Now, just clipped answers and irritation. Was she wrong to guide her? Warn her?
Her own mum had been strict. No freedoms, always knowing her whereabouts. Helen was grateful for ityet now, she feared smothering Emily the same way.
An hour later, her phone rang.
“Mum. All fine. Doing coursework. Sophie says hi.”
“Ta for calling. Dinner?”
“Bout nine. Loads to do.”
“Right. Ill heat the stew. Be careful.”
“*Mum*,” Emily groaned. “Im two streets away, not trekking the Amazon. Bye.”
Helen shook her head. Two streets, yet her worry made it feel continents apart.
Maybe she *was* too clingy. She remembered her friend Lucy, whose mum suffocated her with rules. Lucy had fled at eighteen with the first bloke she meta bad marriage, misery. Helen didnt want that for Emily.
But letting go terrified her. The world wasnt safe. News blared missing girls, bad crowds. Emily was bright but naive.
By eight, Helen was pacing. Too early to call, but dread crept in. What if theyd gone out? Emily too awkward to say?
At half-eight, she cracked. Dialled. A mans voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Sorrycould I speak to Emily? Her mum here.”
“Who? No Emily here.”
Helens hands turned icy.
“Sophie there?”
“Sophie? Nah. Wrong number?”
Helen hung up, shaking. Where was she?
Emily rang at nine.
“Mum, heading back. Ten minutes.”
“*Em!* I called Sophiessome man said you werent there!”
“Oh, her uncle Robs back. We went to the library for coursework. Told you we were working.”
“But why not *say*?”
“Mum, its the *local library.* Not exactly skydiving!”
“We *agreed* youd call if plans changed!”
“They *didnt* change! We *were* working! Just not at hers! Christ, I cant ring for every *tiny* thing!”
Helen bit her tongue. No point rowing.
When Emily returned, Helen served stew, warm bread. Emily ate silently.
“Sophies dad back?”
“Yeah. Mums back tomorrow.”
“Whats the coursework?”
“World War Two. The Blitz.”
“Oh! Your grandad was a kid thenhed tell stories”
“Mum. *Tired.* Can I sleep?”
Helen sighed. “Course. Night, love.”
Alone at the table, unease gnawed. Something was off. Emily *loved* family stories before. Now? A wall between them.
Days later, Helen ran into Sophies mum, Sarah, at Tesco.
“Sarah! Good trip?”
“Lovely! Though Rob fell illcut it short. Your Emily alright? Sophie says shes been quiet.”
“Quiet? More independent. Used to tell me everything. Now just shrugs.”
Sarah laughed. “Normal! Sophie announced shes skipping uni for *hairdressing* courses. Can you *believe* it?”
Helen blinked. “Well good hairdressers earn well.”
“*Helen!* Shes *brilliant* at maths! Should be a *programmer!* I told her*nonsense.*”
Helen nodded, but something twisted inside. Was *she* that dismissive?
“Emilys set on *English Lit.* I suggested *medicine*steady work”
“Lits *fine*! Though jobs are tricky”
At home, Emily was scribbling in her notebook.
“Homework?”
“Essay. *Women in classic novels.*”
“Who? Elizabeth Bennet? Jane Eyre?”
“Tess. *Tess of the dUrbervilles.*”
Helen sat on the bed. “What about her?”
“How she fought for herself,” Emily said softly. “Chose her own path. Didnt let others decide.”
Helen stiffened. “But it ends badly.”
“Yeah. But she *chose.*”
Something in Emilys tone set alarms ringing.
“Em something upset you?”
“No.”
“School? Boys? Fallout with Sophie?”
“*Mum!* Cant I just *write* without the third degree?”
Helen retreated, but worry festered.
Next morning, tidying Emilys room, Helen spotted an open notebook. Not an essaya diary.
*”Mum thinks she knows whats bestuni, friends, clothes. But has she ever asked what* I *want? I want to study* psychology, *not English. Understand people, help them. But if I say that, shell call it unrealistic. She always* knows *better.”*
Helen stepped back, chest tight. Was *that* how Emily saw her?
That evening, she sat Emily down.
“Em do I interfere too much?”
Emily froze. “Why ask?”
“Just answer honestly.”
Emily hesitated, then nodded. “Sometimes you act like I cant decide *anything.*”
“Like?”
“Uni. You push *medicine*I want *psychology.* Or last monththat gig with mates. You said too late, too risky. It ended at *nine.* We were in a *group.*”
Helen swallowed.
“Im scared to let go. The worlds dangerous. I want to protect you.”
“Protecting isnt *smothering,*” Emily whispered.
Helen nodded. “Youre right. And psychologywhy didnt you *say*?”
Emily shrugged. “Whats the point? Youd just lecture me.”
“Maybe,” Helen admitted. “But tell me now. Why psychology?”
Emilys eyes lit up.
“I love understanding *people.* Why they act how they do. Helping them. And its *needed*schools, hospitals, companies! Its not unrealistic!”
Helen listened. Emily had *researched* this. Had plans.
