Were better off without your advice, said the daughter, storming out to her friends house.
Mum, wheres my blue jumper? The one with the turtleneck? shouted Emily from the hallway, rattling the coat hangers.
Helen Wilson set aside the book shed been readinga guide on managing diabetes through dietand rose from the sofa.
Its in the wash, love. Why do you need it? Its ten degrees outside.
Im going to Sophies, and her house is freezing. Mum, wheres the grey cardigan then?
Which grey one? You said yesterday it was boring, Helen said, rummaging through the wardrobe. Here, take the pink one insteadit suits you.
Emily peeked out from the hallway and wrinkled her nose.
Im seeing a friend, not going on a date. The pink ones too dressy.
Looking nice never hurts, her mother smiled. Remember what I used to tell you? First impressions matter, but its whats inside that counts. So both are important.
Emily rolled her eyes and grabbed the first jumper she saw.
Em, are you sure youre just going to Sophies? Maybe stay home instead? Her parents are awayyoull be alone. At your age, you know Helen hesitated, searching for the right words.
Mum, Im seventeen. Its not like were going to take drugs, Emily huffed, zipping up her jacket.
No, of course not! But what if someone else turns up? Boys, maybe? Love, you know how things are these days. Why not invite Sophie here? Ive made soup and baked pies.
Emily froze, then slowly turned.
Mum, enough! Stop controlling me! Im old enough to decide where I go!
But darling, Im not controlling youIm just worried! Youre my only child; if something happened
Nothing will happen! God, why cant you trust me? Emily yanked the zip sharply. Im going to do history homework with Sophie, notnot whatever youve imagined!
I havent imagined anything, her mother said defensively. Its just that in my day, girls behaved differently. We talked to our parents first.
Exactlyyour day! Things are different now, Mum!
Helen sighed, leaning against the doorframe. Yes, times had changed. And Emily wasnt like her at seventeen. Back then, Helen had worked at a factory, helping her mother raise three younger brothers. The idea of casually visiting friends was unthinkable. And if she did, she always asked permission, reporting every detail.
Em, I dont mind you going to Sophies. But promise youll call in a few hours, let me know how youre doing. Okay?
Mum, why? Emily groaned. Am I five or something?
No, of course not. But itll put my mind at ease. Please?
Emily hesitated, then nodded.
Fine. Ill call. But not every half-hour, agreed?
Agreed, Helen smiled in relief.
After Emily left, Helen returned to her book but couldnt focus. Her thoughts kept circling back to Emily. Growing up, pulling away. It was natural, but letting go was so hard.
Emily used to share everythingsecrets, questions, advice. Now she was guarded, answering tersely, easily irritated. Helen didnt know if she was doing the right thing by guiding her, warning her of mistakes.
Her own mother had been strict, demanding. No freedoms, always knowing where Helen was. And Helen was gratefulbut now she feared that without control, Emily might make reckless choices.
An hour later, the phone rang.
Mum, its me. Everythings finewere doing history homework. Sophie says hi.
Thanks for calling. Will you be back for dinner?
Around nine, probably. Weve got loads to do.
Alright. Ill heat up the soup. Be careful.
Mum, relax! Im practically next door. Bye.
Helen hung up, shaking her head. Next door, yesSophie lived two streets away. Yet her worry felt like Emily had crossed continents.
Was she smothering her? Helen remembered her schoolmate Lucy, whose mother monitored her every move. Lucy had complained of suffocating carethen ran off with the first man she met at eighteen, desperate for freedom. The marriage failed, and Lucy suffered. Helen didnt want that for Emily.
But letting go was terrifying. The world wasnt safe. News stories screamed of missing girls, bad influences. Emily was bright but naivebook-smart but lacking street sense.
By eight, Helen was anxious. It was too early to call, but unease crept in. What if something had happened? What if theyd gone out, and Emily hadnt called?
At half past, she dialled. A mans unfamiliar voice answered.
Hello?
Sorry, could I speak to Emily? Its her mother.
Who? Theres no Emily here.
Helens blood ran cold.
Butis Sophie home?
Sophie? No. Are you sure youve got the right number?
Helen hung up, hands shaking. Where was Emily? Had she misdialled? Noshe knew the number by heart. Sophies dad mustve returned early, unaware the girls were meant to be home.
But Emily had promised to call if plans changed.
Pacing, Helen checked the window every five minutes, hoping to spot Emily returning.
At nine, Emily called.
Mum, Im on my way. Be home in ten.
Em! Where were you? I called Sophiessome man said no one was home!
Oh, thats Uncle Mark. We went to the library for our history project. I told you we were working.
But why didnt you say you were leaving?
Mum, its just the local library! Whats the big deal?
We had an agreement! You promised to call if plans changed!
They didnt change! We were workingjust not at home! I cant call for every little thing!
Helen bit back her replythat it wasnt little, that shed been worried. She didnt want a fight.
When Emily returned, Helen served reheated soup and pies. Emily ate silently, giving one-word answers.
Hows Sophie? Are her parents back?
Dads home. Mums back tomorrow.
Whats the project about?
World War II. The London Blitz.
Thats fascinating! Your great-granddad was a boy during the Blitz. He used to tell stories
Mum, Im tired. Can I go to bed?
Of course, love. Night.
Alone, Helen cleared the table, her heart heavy. Something was wrong with Emily, but she couldnt pinpoint it.
Days later, she ran into Sophies mum, Sarah, at the shops.
Helen! How are you? Sophie says Emilys been down lately.
Down? I thought she was just independent now. She used to confide in me.
Thats normalthey grow up. Sophie announced she wants to be a hairdresser, not go to uni! Can you believe it?
Helen paused. Well good hairdressers earn well.
Helen! Shes brilliant at maths! She should study computer science! I told her its nonsense.
Helen nodded, but something twisted inside. Was dismissing dreams the right approach?
At home, Emily was writing.
Working on an essay?
English lit. Female characters in classics.
Whos your focus? Elizabeth Bennet? Jane Eyre?
Tess of the dUrbervilles.
Helen sat. What about her?
How she fought for her freedom, Emily said flatly.
But her ending was Helen trailed off.
But she chose it. Didnt let others decide for her.
Something in Emilys tone set off alarms.
Em is something bothering you?
No, Mum. Im fine.
Later, tidying Emilys room, Helen spotted an open notebooknot an essay, but diary entries.
*Mum thinks she knows bestuni, friends, clothes. But has she ever asked what I want? I want to study psychology, not literature. To understand people, help them. But if I tell her, shell say its not serious, that it wont pay. She always knows better.*
Helen stepped back, chest aching. Was that how Emily saw her?
That evening, she broached the subject.
Em, do I interfere too much?
Emily hesitated. Sometimes it feels like you decide things I can handle myself.
Like?
Uni. You keep mentioning medicine, but I want psychology. Or last monthI wanted to see a gig with mates
