“Help me out, Mum. You have to.”
“Emily, you’re here again,” sighed Valerie, shrugging off her coat as she watched her daughter rummage through the fridge. “Why move out if you keep coming back? Maybe it wasnt such a good idea after all…”
Emily spun around, clutching a packet of sliced ham to her chest.
“Mum! Dont creep up like thatyou scared me half to death!” she huffed, then flashed a disarmingly sweet smile. “Just popped in to see how youre doing.”
Valerie set her shopping bags on the table and studied her daughter. At twenty-four, Emily looked every bit the grown woman, yet something childlike still flickered in her eyessomething helpless.
“Here to see me, or raid my fridge?” Valerie asked gently.
Emily flushed, dropping her gaze to the floor. She hesitated, gathering her thoughts, then blurted out in one breath,
“Look, Mum, my pay just vanished. Suspiciously fast. Ive got a week till next payday, and my cupboards are bare. Thats all.”
Valerie swallowed a heavy sigh. Emily had rushed into moving out, desperate to prove her independence. But how could she have stopped her? Young people always charge headfirst into freedom, never thinking ahead.
“Dont say I told you so,” Emily cut in, raising a hand. “I just miscalculated a bit. Itll be fine, Mum! Soon Ill be the one bringing *you* gifts and ordering your groceries. Seriously, just wait and see!”
Valerie shook her head. Her daughters stubborn optimism hadnt faded with age.
“Take what you need, love. Dont fret.”
She watched as Emily methodically emptied the fridgesausages, cheese, cream, vegall vanishing into her oversized tote. From the cupboards went packets of rice and pasta, and from the pantry, a hefty bag of potatoes.
“Thisll last me a week, easy!” Emily cheered, planting a loud kiss on Valeries cheek. “Thanks, Mum! Youre the best!”
Valerie walked her to the door, giving her shoulder a pat.
Silence settled over the flat. Leaning against the wall, Valerie thought back to herself at Emilys agejuggling work, a husband, and a toddler. She barely had a moment to breathe back then. Now, even a quick trip to Tesco left her exhausted.
“Where did my youth go?” she whispered, catching her reflection in the hallway mirror. Wrinkles at her eyes, silver streaking her once-thick chestnut hair. Time was merciless. Her best years had slipped away in a blur of responsibilitiesstudies, work, raising Emily. She regretted nothing, but sometimes the weight of it all made her want to howl.
A week later, Valerie called Emily. A mothers worry gnawed at her.
“Should I transfer you some money? Need anything?” she asked the moment Emily answered.
A carefree laugh crackled down the line.
“Mum, Ive been paid. Stop fussing! Im a big girl now!”
“Big girl, my foot,” Valerie muttered. “Who ran out of food money last week? Em, listenmaybe you should move back home? Itd be easier.”
Silence. Then Emily exhaled sharply, irritation barely contained.
“Mum, Im *grown*. I *want* my own place. So what if Im still figuring things out? Ill manage. Why dont you believe in me?”
Valerie faltered. She hadnt meant to upset herjust to protect her.
“Sorry, love. I worry. Youll always be my little girl.”
The conversation soured, leaving a bitter aftertaste. Valerie sat clutching her phone, lost in thought. Raising Emily had been hard, but letting her go was harder.
Three days later, Valerie returned home late from a friends. The moment she stepped inside, kitchen noises froze her in placeburglars? No. There stood Emily, devouring a sandwich by the open fridge.
“Youre back? Just grabbing a few bits. Paid rent today, realised Im skint till payday. Same old story…”
Emily smiled, but Valerie saw no warmth in it. Something in her gaze had shiftedcooler, more calculating.
“And who swore they were all grown and independent?” Valerie sighed, sinking into a chair.
Emily tossed her hair, stuffing groceries into her bag.
“I *am* independent. But youre my mum. Helping me is your *job*.” She said it lightly, but the words cut deep. “Consider this your chance to mother me properly.”
Into the bag went fruit, veg, a container of pasta salad, and five yoghurts. Valerie watched in silence. A *job*? Since when was love an obligation?
Emilys visits grew frequent. New shoes blew her budget. A phone replacement. A rent hike. Always a “good reason” to raid Mums fridge.
Valerie bit her tongue. How could she deny her own child? But each visit chipped away at her. Emily stopped pretending she came to chat. No “How are you?” No interest in Valeries life. Just grab, go, repeat.
One evening, Valerie trudged home soaked from an autumn downpour. Shucking off her wet coat, she headed to the kitchen.
“Chicken for dinner,” she murmured, yanking open the freezer. “Roast with potatoes and peppers. Maybe a salad”
Her hand froze. The compartment was empty. Four shelves, packed that morning with meat and veg, now bare. She flung open the fridge door. A lone jar of mustard sat untouchedEmily hated the stuff.
Hands trembling, Valerie dialled her daughter.
“Mum, what?” Emily snapped.
“Em, did you take *all* the food?” Valeries voice wavered.
“Yeah!” Emily chirped. “Thought Id save myself extra trips. No point wasting time!”
Valerie shut her eyes against rising tears. How could she be so thoughtless?
“Emily, I just got homeI was going to cook”
“Mum,” Emily groaned. “Pop to the shops! Walkings good for you. Doctors say so. Gotta go, bye!”
The line died. Valerie slumped into a chair, staring at her phone. A dull ache spread through her chest. Had she become nothing but a free grocery service?
After that, the emptied fridge became routine. Every fortnight, Valerie found barren shelves. Emily didnt even bother with excuses anymore.
Then, one night, the crash of glass jolted Valerie awake. She bolted to the kitchen. Emily knelt on the floor, wiping up spilled mustard, shards glittering around her.
“Even took the mustard? You *hate* mustard,” Valerie said sharply.
Emily glared up.
“Oh, *Mum*. Drop the lecture and help!”
“Why didnt you wake me? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
Emily flung the rag down, leaving yellow streaks on the tiles. She stood, arms crossedmirroring Valeries own stance when cross.
“I *have* a key, Mum. Remember? This is *my* home too! Why should I announce myself? Or am I *banned* now?”
Valerie shook her head.
“Youre welcome here, but you dont come for *me*. You come for the fridge. Em, Im not made of money. I cant feed both of usespecially when you clear me out.
Emily slammed the fridge door. Her eyes blazed.
“You *begrudge* your own daughter food? *You* said I could take what I needed!”
Valeries temper snapped.
“I meant *occasional* help! Not treating my home like a free supermarket! I never know if Ill *eat* or go to bed hungry! Thats not normal!”
Emily backed toward the window, avoiding broken glass.
“You regret helping me that first time, dont you? Just say it! I thought you were my *mum*! Mums *help*! You *owe* me!”
“Emily, youre *twenty-four*!” Valerie shot back. “I dont *owe* you meals! If you cant manage, *move back*! Pay your share. At least youd save on rent.”
Emily went still. Her face twisted with rage.
“I *wont* live with you! Understand? Im with *Josh* now. We moved in! But I didnt realise hed eat like a *horse*!”
Valerie went cold. Her daughter had a live-in boyfriendand hadnt mentioned it. Yet shed been stealing food to feed him.
“And thats *my* problem?” Valeries voice turned icy. “Hes *your* partner. *Your* responsibility.”
“But you *have* to help! Youre my *mum*!” Emily shrieked.
“*Josh* can raid *his* mums fridge!” Valerie snapped. “Or get a second job. If two adults cant feed themselves, thats *your* failing. Ive *drained* my savingsfor what? To feed your greedy boyfriend?”
Emilys face blotched red.
“How *dare* you! Josh is *wonderful*! Youyoure a *terrible* mother! A *good* mum would support her daughter!”
Valerie cradled her head. Hurt choked her.
“Emily, *leave*,” she said hoarsely. “For six months, Ive just been your food dispenser. I need space. You *lied*. You *used* me. Take whatevers left. Consider it a parting gift. *Go.*”
She didnt look up as Emily stuffed her bag. Only the slam of the front door made her flinch. The kitchen clock ticked loudly in the silence.
Valerie drifted to the window. Somewhere in the city, her daughter was returning to Josh with the last scraps from her mothers home.
“Changing the locks tomorrow,” she whispered. “Time they learned responsibility. Let them live within their means.”
She did. For weeks, silence. No calls, no texts. Emily was sulkingbut better that than being treated like a walking supermarket.
The call came a month later…
