“We’re better off without your advice,” her daughter snapped before storming off to her friend’s house.
“Mum, where’s my blue jumper? The one with the turtleneck?” shouted Lily from the hallway, rattling the coat hangers.
Margaret set aside the book she’d been readingsome guide on managing diabetes through dietand heaved herself off the sofa.
“It’s in the wash, love. Why d’you need it? It’s ten degrees outside.”
“I’m going to Emilys, and her house is freezing. Mum, wheres the grey cardigan then?”
“Which grey one? You said it was boring just yesterday.” Margaret shuffled to the wardrobe and started rifling through the clothes. “Here, take the pink one. It suits you.”
Lily peeked around the doorframe and wrinkled her nose.
“I’m going to a mates, not on a date. Pinks too dressy.”
“Never hurts to look nice,” her mother smiled. “Remember what I told you when you were little? First impressions count, but brains keep people around. Both matter.”
Lily rolled her eyes, yanked on the first jumper she found, and shoved her arms into her coat.
“Lily, love, are you sure youre just going to Emilys? Maybe stay in? Her parents are away, and youll be alone. At your age” Margaret trailed off, searching for the right words.
“Mum, Im seventeen. What, you think were going to do drugs or something?” Lily scoffed, fastening her zip.
“No! Its just what if boys turn up? Emily might invite someone. You know how things are these days. Why not ask Emily here? Ive made borscht, baked some rolls”
Lily froze, then slowly turned.
“Mum. Stop. Stop controlling me! Im not a kidI can decide where I go!”
“But darling, Im not controlling you! Im just worried! Youre my only oneif something happened”
“Nothings going to happen! God, why cant you just trust me?” Lily yanked her zip up angrily. “Im going to Emilys to work on our history project, notnot whatever youre imagining!”
“Im not imagining anything,” Margaret said, hurt. “Its just, in my day, girls behaved differently. We talked to our parents.”
“Yeah, in your day! Times have changed, Mum!”
Margaret sighed and leaned against the doorframe. Yes, times had changed. And so had her daughter. Nothing like shed been at seventeen. At that age, shed already been working part-time at the Tesco, helping her mum raise three younger brothers. Popping round to a friends just because? Unthinkable. And if she did, shed have asked permission, reported every detail.
“Lily, I dont mind you going to Emilys. But promise youll call in a couple of hours? Let me know youre alright.”
“Mum, seriously?” Lily groaned. “What am I, five?”
“No. But itd put my mind at ease. Please?”
Lily hesitated, then nodded.
“Fine. Ill call. But not every half hour, deal?”
“Deal,” Margaret said, relieved.
Once Lily was gone, Margaret returned to her book, but the words blurred. Her thoughts kept circling back. Her little girl was growing up, pulling away. It was natural, she knew that. But letting go? That was the hard part.
Lily used to tell her everythingsecrets, crushes, every little worry. Now she was secretive, snapped at questions. Margaret didnt know if she was doing the right thing, guiding her, trying to spare her mistakes.
Her own mother had been strict. No liberties, always knowing where Margaret was, who she was with. And Margaret was grateful for that. Maybe thats why she was so afraid to let Lily goterrified that without her watchful eye, her girl would make all the wrong choices.
The phone rang an hour later.
“Mum, its me. Everythings fine. Working on the history project. Emily says hi.”
“Thanks for calling. What time will you be back for dinner?”
“Nine-ish, I reckon. Still loads to do.”
“Alright. Ill heat up the borscht. Take care.”
“Mum, stop! Im not trekking across the SaharaEmily lives two streets away. Bye.”
Margaret hung up and shook her head. Two streets. Yet shed panicked like Lily had vanished into the wilderness.
Maybe she was smothering her. Shed had a friend, Sarah, whose mum had monitored her every move. Sarah had complained about suffocating. Then, at eighteen, shed bolted with the first bloke whod glance her wayjust to escape. Married badly, divorced, miserable. Margaret didnt want that for Lily.
But letting go was terrifying. The world wasnt like it used to be. News stories screamed about missing girls, bad crowds. Lily was still so trusting, so naïve. Clever, yes, but green.
By eight, Margaret was fidgety. Too early to call, but worry crept in. What if something had happened? What if theyd gone out, and Lily hadnt dared to call?
At half eight, she cracked and dialled. The phone rang endlessly before a mans unfamiliar voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Sorry, could I speak to Lily? Its her mum.”
“Who? No Lily here.”
Margarets blood ran cold.
“What dyou mean? Is Emily there?”
“Emily? Nah. You got the right number?”
Margaret stammered an apology and slammed the phone down, hands shaking.
Where was she? Had she misdialed? No, she knew Emilys number by heart. Must be her dad home early, clueless about the girls. Orwhat if theyd gone out? But Lily had promised to call if plans changed!
Margaret paced, glancing out the window every five minutes, willing Lily to appear.
At nine, Lily called.
“Mum, on my way. Be home in ten.”
“Lily! Where were you? I called Emilyssome man said no one was in!”
“Oh, thats Uncle Mark. Hes back early. Me and Em went to the libraryresearch for the project. Like I said.”
“But why didnt you tell me youd left?”
“Mum, its the local library, not a rave! Whats the big deal?”
“We agreed! You promised to call if plans changed!”
“They didnt change! We were still workingjust not at hers! Mum, I cant call about every tiny thing!”
Margaret bit back the urge to arguethat it wasnt tiny, that shed been frantic. No point starting a row.
When Lily returned, Margaret laid out dinnerborscht, warm rolls. Lily ate in silence, answering questions with shrugs.
“Hows Emily? Parents back?”
“Dads home. Mums back tomorrow.”
“Whats the project on?”
“World War II. The Blitz.”
“Oh, fascinating! My grandadyour great-grandadwas a kid during the Blitz. He used to say”
“Mum, Im knackered. Can I just sleep?” Lily cut in.
“Of course, love. Night.”
Lily vanished into her room. Margaret cleared the table, unease gnawing at her. Something was off, but she couldnt pin it. Lily used to love family stories. Now? A wall had gone up.
Days later, Margaret bumped into Emilys mum, Helen, at the shops. Theyd known each other for yearsthe girls had been friends since primary.
“Helen! How was your trip?”
“Lovely! Though Mark came down with flu, so we cut it short. Hows Lily? Emily says shes been down lately.”
“Down? I thought she was just independent now. Used to tell me everything. Now she keeps to herself.”
“Thats normal,” Helen smiled. “They grow up. Emily dropped a bombshellwants to skip uni, do hairdressing courses. Can you believe it?”
Margaret blinked. “Well thats not a bad gig. Good hairdressers earn more than some engineers.”
Helen gawped. “Margaret! Hairdressing? The girls got maths A-level material! Should be aiming for tech, codingsomething proper. I told her straight: nonsense. Shes too young to know whats what.”
Margaret nodded, but something twinged inside. Was it right to stomp on their dreams? Maybe Emily genuinely wanted this.
“And Lily? Any big plans?”
“Wants to study English Lit. Loves books. Though Id nudged her toward medicinesteady work.”
Helen tutted. “English Lits noble. Tricky job market, but if shes got the knack”
At home, Lily was at her desk, scribbling in a notebook.
“Love,
