“You’ve ruined my entire life!” shouted Emily, slamming the door behind her.
“Mum, do you remember how you used to put me to bed when I was little?” Charlotte asked softly, flipping through old photographs on the kitchen table.
Margaret looked up from the pot of shepherds pie, surprised. Charlotte hadnt asked questions like that in yearstheir conversations were usually far more strained.
“Of course I remember. You always begged for *The Three Little Pigs*, the same story every night,” Margaret smiled, drying her hands on the tea towel. “Then youd insist I stay beside you until you fell asleep. Said you were scared without me.”
Charlotte nodded, still studying the photos. In one, a five-year-old version of herself sat on her mothers lap with a book, both of them grinning.
“Didnt you ever get tired of it?”
“Tired of what, love?”
“Of me. The same routine every daywork, home, then my tantrums.”
Margaret sat beside her daughter. Charlotte looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes. The divorce had taken its tollshed lost weight, aged beyond her years, grown sharp and irritable.
“Never,” Margaret said quietly. “You were my whole world. Especially after your father left.”
“Oh, Dad…” Charlotte gave a bitter laugh. “Ran off with his secretary when I was seven. I remember hearing you cry in the kitchen at night. Thought I didnt notice.”
“I tried not to let you see.”
“I know. But I wasnt blind. I saw how hard it was for youworking three jobs just to keep me clothed, fed, in piano lessons. I remember your darned tights and how youd skip meat at dinner, saying you werent hungry, then finish my leftovers.”
Margaret turned away, uncomfortable. It felt strange hearing this from her grown daughter.
“Dont, love. Its what any mother would do.”
“Any mother?” Charlotte set the photos down, studying her. “Remember Sophie Dawson? From school?”
“The redhead? What about her?”
“She told me last week she envied me. Can you believe it? Said you were the perfect mumalways turned up to parents evenings looking smart, went through my homework, spoke to my teachers. Her mum? Drank, brought random men home, never asked about school.”
“Poor girl,” Margaret sighed. “I remember heralways seemed sad.”
“And I envied *her*,” Charlotte admitted. “Thought she was luckyno one controlling her every move.”
Margaret flinched as if struck.
“What do you mean?”
“Dont take this the wrong way, Mum, but sometimes your love felt suffocating. Remember in Year 9 when I wanted to go on the school trip to Edinburgh? You said it was too dangerous, that I might get lost. Didnt let me go.”
“It *was* far! And money was tight.”
“Or in Year 10 when I begged to go to Lilys birthday disco? You said good girls stay home, that itd ruin my reputation.”
Margaret frowned. She remembered that nightCharlotte had screamed that she was trapped, then locked herself away for days.
“I was protecting you! Our neighbourhood was full of gossips. If theyd seen you out, theyd have said Charlotte Harris was running wild.”
“*You* wouldve been ashamed,” Charlotte corrected. “Not me. You always cared more about what people thought than what I wanted.”
“Charlotte!” Margaret snapped. “How can you say that? Everything I did was for you!”
“Yesbut on *your* terms. You decided what was good for me. Remember forcing me to take piano? I hated it, but you insisted itd build character. Three years of misery!”
“But you play beautifully now! You still do.”
“Because its habit. Back then, I wanted to join the netball team. But you said sports were unladylike, that Id get hurt.”
Margaret walked to the window, heart heavy. Had her daughter been silently resenting her all these years? Shed only ever wanted the best for her.
“Love, I just didnt want you making my mistakes. I wanted life to be easier for you.”
“I know, Mum. And I understand. You were scared Id rebel, get pregnant young, ruin my life. So you smothered me.”
“Is that so wrong?”
Charlotte hesitated. “Remember James Whitmore? From sixth form?”
“The tall blond who sent you notes?”
“Him. We liked each other. He asked me to the cinema, ice skating. You always found excuseshomework, chores, sudden illnesses.”
“You were too young for boys!”
“I was *sixteen*, Mum. You treated me like a child. James started dating Emma instead. Theyre married now, did you know?”
“Well, then it wasnt meant to be.”
“Or maybe it was,” Charlotte said quietly. “If youd trusted me, let me learn, my life mightve turned out differently.”
Margaret turned. “Are you saying Im why your marriage failed?”
“Not *why*. But… Mum, I didnt know how to *be* in a relationship. You raised me to distrust men, to expect betrayal. So I picked fights with Daniel, accused him of things he never did. Pushed him away.”
The room fell silent. The shepherds pie began to burn, but Margaret didnt notice. Her chest ached.
“So I ruined your life by trying to protect you?”
Charlotte hugged her. “Not ruined. But you sheltered me too much. I grew up afraidof choices, of disapproval. At work, they overload me because I never say no. With Daniel, I stayed silent when he shouted, thinking I deserved it.”
“I thought you were just… good.”
“Obedient, yes. But out of fear, not strength. Im thirty-two and still feel like a child.”
“Maybe see a therapist? They help untangle these things.”
“I have been. Six months now. She says Ive got low self-worth, cling to toxic relationships. Told me to spend time alone, make my own decisions.”
“Is it helping?”
“Its hard. But Im trying. Last month, I went to Cornwall*alone*. Can you believe it? Me, who panicked taking the Tube by myself, just… went.”
A spark lit in Charlottes eyesone Margaret hadnt seen in years.
“Werent you scared?”
“Terrified! But it was… freeing. Choosing where to eat, what to do, when to wake up*thats* happiness.”
Margaret wiped her eyes. “Im glad, love.”
“There, I realised I dont want to resent you anymore. You did your best. Grandma was stricter with you than you ever were with me.”
“God, yes! I wasnt even allowed to cross the road alone.”
“Exactly. You parented how you were taught. But I know better now. I want to *live*, Mum. On my terms.”
Margaret hugged her tight. “Forgive me, darling.”
“Nothing to forgive. But I do want us to start freshas equals.”
“Youll always be my little girl.”
“Then trust me. No more twenty calls a day. No interrogations about where I am or who with.”
“Ill try,” Margaret whispered. “Old habits die hard.”
“For me too. But I cant spend my life afraid of my own shadow.”
Charlotte picked up the photos again, smiling.
“One more thing, Mum. Ive decided I want a baby.”
Margaret choked. “*What?* Butthe father”
“Ill find one. Women do it all the time now. Good genes are all that matters,” Charlotte laughed. “Dont panic! Im a grown woman. Its *my* choice.”
“But what will people *say*?”
“I dont *care* what they say. This is my life. And I wont repeat your mistakesIll raise my child to be brave, to choose freely.”
“Youre serious?”
“Completely. Ive even seen a specialist. Says Im perfectly healthy.”
Margaret sank into a chair, stunned.
“Will I… still get to be a grandma?”
“Of course! Just no unsolicited parenting advice. Deal?”
“Deal,” Margaret managed weakly.
Charlotte hugged her. “I love you, Mum. And Im gratefultruly. But its time I lived *my* way. Okay?”
“Okay, love.” Margaret held her close, realizing with a pang how fear had shaped them both. But it wasnt too late to change.
“The pies burnt,” she muttered.
Charlotte grinned. “Lets order pizza. My treat. In factlets celebrate. A fresh start.”
Margaret smiled, a long-forgotten warmth spreading through her.
“A fresh start.”
And for the first time in years, she meant it.
