“You ruined my whole life!” screamed the daughter, slamming the door.
“Mum, do you remember how you used to put me to bed when I was little?” asked Emily quietly, shuffling through old photographs on the kitchen table.
Margaret looked up from the pot of beef stew, surprised. Emily hadnt asked questions like this in yearstheir conversations usually took a very different tone.
“Of course I remember. You always wanted me to read *The Three Little Pigs*. The same story every single night,” she smiled, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “And then youd beg me to stay until you fell asleep. Said you were scared without me.”
Emily nodded, still flipping through the pictures. In one, she was five years old, curled 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 day. Work, then home, then my endless demands.”
Margaret moved closer and sat beside her daughter. Emily looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes. Since the divorce, shed lost weight, aged. Her temper had souredsharp, quick to snap.
“Never,” Margaret murmured. “You were my whole world. Especially after your father left.”
“Ah, Dad…” Emily gave a bitter laugh. “Ran off with his secretary when I was seven. I remember you crying in the kitchen at night. Thought I didnt hear.”
“I tried not to let you see.”
“I know. But I wasnt deaf. And I saw how hard it was. Working three jobs just to keep me clothed, fed, in piano lessons. I remember your darned tights, how youd say you didnt want meat at dinner. Then youd finish my leftover cottage pie when I wasnt looking.”
Margaret turned away, embarrassed. It was strange hearing this from her grown daughter.
“Dont, Em. Its what any mother would do.”
“Any mother?” Emily set the photos aside, staring straight at her. “You know what Lucy Whitmore told me the other day? Remember Lucy, from school?”
“The ginger one? What about her?”
“She said she envied me back then. Can you believe it? Thought I had the perfect mum. Always turned up to parents evening looking smart, went through my books, spoke to the teachers. Her mum? Lucy said she just drank and chased men. Never showed up, never asked about her grades.”
“Poor girl,” Margaret sighed. “I remember heralways so quiet.”
“And I thought *she* was the lucky one,” Emily admitted. “That her mum didnt suffocate her with rules.”
Margaret flinched as if slapped.
“Whats that supposed to mean?”
“Dont be cross, Mum, but sometimes your love felt like a straitjacket. Remember in Year 10 when I wanted to go on that school trip to Edinburgh? You said it was too dangerous, that I might get lost. Wouldnt let me go.”
“It was miles away! And we barely had two pennies to rub together.”
“Or when I begged to go to Sophies birthday disco in Year 11? You said nice girls stay home, not gallivant around dance halls.”
Margaret frowned. She remembered that night. Emily had screamed, locked herself in her room for days.
“I was protecting your reputation! Our street was full of gossips. If theyd started wagging tongues about Emily Dawson sneaking off to discos”
“*You* wouldve been ashamed,” Emily cut in. “See? Not me. *You*. Always worrying what people thought. Never what *I* wanted.”
“Emily!” Margaret bristled. “How can you say that? I spent my whole life thinking of you!”
“Yes. But *your* way. Deciding what was good for me. Remember forcing me into piano lessons? I hated them, but you said itd build character. Three years of misery!”
“But you play beautifully now! You still tinker on the keys at home.”
“I play out of habit. Back then, I wanted to join the netball team. But you said it wasnt ladylike, that I might twist an ankle.”
Margaret stood, walked to the window. This was agony. Had her daughter been silently resenting her all these years? And shed only ever meant to help.
“Em, I just didnt want you making the mistakes I did. I wanted better for you.”
“I know, Mum. And I understand why. You were terrified Id rebel, fall in with the wrong crowd, rush into marriage. So you kept me under lock and key.”
“Well, yes. Was that so wrong?”
Emily was silent a moment. Then, softly:
“Remember Daniel Hartley? From the year above?”
“The tall blond? Who passed you notes in maths?”
“Thats him. We fancied each other. He asked me to the cinema, the ice rink. But you always found a reason to say nohomework, chores, a sudden cold.”
“You were too young for boys!”
“I was sixteen, Mum! You treated me like I was ten. Daniel started seeing Hannah Cooper instead. Theyre married now, you know.”
“Well, then. Wasnt meant to be.”
“Or maybe it was,” Emily smiled sadly. “Maybe if youd trusted me, let me choose, my life wouldve turned out different.”
Margaret turned sharply.
“So this is my fault? Your divorce, everything?”
“Not your *fault*. ButMum, I never learned how to *be* in a relationship. You raised me to think men were monsters. That theyd cheat, drink, leave. Better alone than with a bad one, right?”
“Because I didnt want you stuck like me!”
“And I was too scared to trust James. Always waiting for the betrayal, the cruelty. In the end, I smothered us with suspicion. You taught me thatto doubt, to fear.”
Silence hung between them. The stew bubbled, forgotten. Margarets chest ached.
“So all my love… ruined you?”
Emily moved closer, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“Not ruined. Just… stifled. I grew up afraid. Always needing approval, terrified to choose. At work, they pile rubbish on me because they know Emily wont push back.”
“I thought you were just… good. Obedient.”
“Obedient, yes. But not from goodnessfrom fear. Even when James shouted over nothing, I took it. Thought I deserved it.”
Margaret switched off the hob, sighing.
“Em, I didnt know. I thought I was protecting you.”
“I know. And Im not blaming you. I just need to learn how to *live*. Im thirty-two and still feel like a lost little girl.”
“Maybe see a therapist? They say it helps.”
“Ive been going six months,” Emily admitted. “She says Ive got crippling self-doubt, cling to toxic relationships. Told me to try doing things alone, making my own choices.”
“Has it… helped?”
“Its hard. But Im trying. Last week, I went to the Lake District. Alone. Can you believe it? I, who used to panic taking the Tube by myself, just *went*.”
There was a light in Emilys eyes Margaret hadnt seen in years.
“Wasnt it terrifying?”
“At first! Im so used to you guiding everything. But then… God, Mum, the *freedom*. Choosing where to eat, when to wake, which path to takeit was heaven.”
Margaret smiled through tears.
“Im proud of you, love.”
“Out there, I thought a lot. About us. And I realisedI dont want to resent you anymore. You did your best. Raised by Gran, who was twice as strict as you.”
“Oh, dont remind me!” Margaret groaned. “That woman wouldnt let me breathe without permission.”
“Exactly. You only knew one way. But I know better now. And I want to *live* better.”
Margaret pulled her close.
“Forgive me, Em. If I got it wrong.”
“Nothing to forgive. We just need to move forward. AndMum, I want us to be close. But as equals. As adults.”
“And I wont… smother you?”
“You wont, if you let go. No more twenty calls a day, no interrogations. Trust me.”
“Ill try,” Margaret whispered. “Old habits, though.”
“And Ill have to unlearn relying on you. But well manage. Otherwise, Ill spend my whole life jumping at shadows.”
Emily picked up the photos again, grinning.
“Know what else I realised? I want a baby. And I dont need a husband to do it.”
Margaret choked.
“*What?* Butthe father”
“Ill find a decent man. Women do it all the time now. Good genes, thats the main thing,” Emily laughed. “Mum, dont panic! Im grown. Its my choice.”
“But what will people *say*?”
“I dont care. Its *my* life. *My* child. And I wont make your mistakes. Ill raise them to be fearless.”
“Emily, are you serious?”
“Deadly. Already saw a specialist. Says Im in perfect health.”
Margaret sank onto a chair, reeling.
“And I… can I be part of their life?”
“Of course! Youll be Granny. Just no unsolicited advice. Deal?”
“Deal,” Margaret managed weakly.
Emily hugged her tight.
“I love you, Mum. And Im gratefulfor everything. But now I need to fly on my own. Alright?”
“Alright, darling. Might take some getting used to.”
“Well manage. The important thing is weve finally talked. I was so tired of being angry.”
Margaret held her daughter, heart aching. All this time, shed thought she was giving love. Instead, shed built a cage. But it wasnt too late. The key was letting go.
“Stews burnt,” she muttered.
“Doesnt matter,” Emily laughed. “Lets order takeaway. My treat. ActuallyMum, lets make tonight a celebration. A fresh start.”
Margaret smiled, squeezing her hand. For the first time in years, she felt truly, deeply happy.
