Were better off without your advice, the daughter said before leaving for her friends house.
Mum, wheres my blue jumper? The one with the high neck? Emma called from the hallway, rattling hangers.
Helen Wilson set aside the book shed been readinga guide on diabetes nutritionand rose from the sofa.
Its in the wash, love. Why do you need it? Its ten degrees outside.
Im going to Sophies. Her house is freezing. Mum, wheres the grey cardigan then?
Which grey one? You said just yesterday it was boring. Helen walked to the wardrobe, sifting through clothes. Here, take the pink one instead. It suits you.
Emma peeked out from the hallway, frowning.
Im seeing a friend, not going on a date. Pinks too dressy.
Looking nice never hurt anyone, her mother smiled. Remember what I used to tell you? First impressions matter, but its your mind that keeps people around. Both are important.
Emma rolled her eyes and pulled on the first jumper she found.
Em, youre definitely going to Sophies? Maybe you should stay home. Her parents are awayjust you two there. At your age, you know Helen hesitated, searching for the right words.
Mum, Im seventeen. What, you think well be doing drugs or something? Emma scoffed, zipping her coat.
No, of course not! But what if she invites someone else? Boys? Emma, you know how things are these days. Why not ask Sophie over here? Ive made shepherds pie and apple crumble.
Emma froze, turning slowly.
Mum, stop! Stop controlling me! Im old enough to decide where I go!
But, love, Im not controlling youI just worry! Youre my only child. If anything happened
Nothing will happen! God, why cant you just trust me? Emma snapped, yanking her zip up. Im going to study history with my friend, notI dont know, whatever youve imagined!
I havent imagined anything, Helen said, hurt. Its justin my day, girls behaved differently. They consulted their parents.
Exactly! *Your* day. Things have changed, Mum!
Helen sighed, leaning against the doorframe. Yes, times had changed. And so had her daughter. Emma wasnt like her at seventeenback when Helen had worked at a factory, helping her own mother raise three younger brothers. Visiting friends just for fun? Unthinkable. And if she did go out, she had to ask permission, then report every detail afterward.
Emma, I dont mind you going to Sophies. But lets agree on thiscall me in a couple of hours, just to check in. Alright?
Mum, why? Emma groaned. Am I five?
No. But itll put my mind at ease. Please?
Emma hesitated, then nodded.
Fine. Ill call. But not every half hour, yeah?
Deal, Helen said, relieved.
Emma left, and Helen returned to her bookbut she couldnt focus. Her thoughts kept circling back to her daughter. Growing up. Pulling away. It was natural, but letting go was so hard.
Emma used to share everythingsecrets, questions, worries. Now she was guarded, answering in monosyllables, bristling at every question. Helen wondered if she was doing the right thing, trying to guide her, to protect her from mistakes.
Her own mother had been strict, demanding. No freedoms, no secrets. And Helen was grateful for that upbringing. Maybe thats why she feared loosening her gripwhat if Emma made reckless choices without her guidance?
The phone rang an hour later.
Mum, its me. Everythings fine. Working on history. Sophie says hi.
Thanks for calling. What time will you be back for dinner?
Around nine, I think. Still loads to do.
Alright. Ill warm up the pie. Be careful.
Mum, relax! Im practically next door, not trekking through the jungle. Bye.
Helen hung up, shaking her head. Next door. Two streets over. Yet her worry made it feel like Emma had crossed continents.
Was she smothering her? In her teens, Helen had a friend, Lily, whose mother monitored her every move. Lily complained of suffocating under such care. Then, at eighteen, she ran off with the first boy who paid her attentionjust to escape. The marriage failed, leaving her miserable. Helen didnt want that for Emma.
But letting go was terrifying. The world wasnt what it used to be. News stories screamed of missing girls, bad influences. Emma was bright but naive, trusting.
By eight, Helen was restless. Too early to call, but unease crept in. What if theyd gone somewhere else? What if Emma was too embarrassed to say?
At half past, she caved and dialed. The line rang endlesslythen a mans voice answered.
Hello?
Sorry, may I speak to Emma? This is her mother.
Who? No Emma here.
Helens blood ran cold.
What? Is Sophie there?
Sophie? No. Youve got the wrong number.
ButIsorry. Helen hung up, hands shaking.
What was happening? Where was her daughter? Maybe shed misdialedbut no, she knew the number by heart. Sophies dad mustve returned early and not realized the girls were out.
Or had they gone somewhere? But Emma promised to call if plans changed!
Pacing, Helen checked the window every few minutes, hoping to spot Emma walking home.
At nine, Emma called.
Mum, Im on my way. Be home in ten.
Emma! Where were you? I called Sophiessome man said no one was there!
Oh, thats her uncle Mark. We went to the libraryresearch for our history project. I *told* you we were studying.
But why didnt you say youd left the house?
Mum, its the *local library*. Not exactly a wild expedition!
Emma, we agreed! You promised to call if plans changed!
They didnt! We *were* studyingjust not at home! Do I really need to call about every little thing?
Helen bit back her retortthat this wasnt little, that shed been franticnot wanting another argument.
When Emma returned, Helen served reheated pie and crumble. Emma ate quietly, answering questions with shrugs.
Hows Sophie? Parents back?
Dads home. Mums back tomorrow.
Whats the project on?
World War II. The Blitz.
Oh, fascinating! My grandadyour great-grandadwas a boy during the war. He used to tell stories
Mum, Im exhausted. Can I just sleep? Emma interrupted.
Of course, love. Night.
Emma left, and Helen cleared the table, unease lingering. Something was off, but she couldnt pinpoint it. Emma used to love family storiesnow, a wall had risen between them.
Days later, Helen bumped into Sophies mum, Sarah, at the supermarket. Theyd known each other for years.
Sarah! How was your trip?
Lovely! Though Mark fell illhad to cut it short. Hows Emma? Sophie says shes been down lately.
Down? I thought she seemed more independent. Less inclined to confide.
Thats normal, Sarah smiled. They grow up. Sophie announced yesterday she wants to skip uni and train as a hairdresser. Can you believe it?
Well thats not a bad path. Good stylists earn well these days.
Helen! A *hairdresser*? With her maths grades? She should study computer science, something *respectable*! I told her its a silly phase.
Helen nodded, but something twinged inside. Were they dismissing their daughters dreams too quickly?
And Emma? Any career plans?
Wants to study English literature. Loves books. Though I suggested medicinestable work.
Literatures noble! Tricky job market, but if shes passionate
At home, Emma was scribbling in a notebook.
Love, hows the homework?
Fine. Essay on Shakespeare.
Which play?
Romeo and Juliet. About how Juliet fought for her own choices.
Helen hesitated. But it ends tragically.
Yeah. But she *chose*. Didnt let others decide for her.
Something in Emmas tone set off alarms.
Em is everything okay?
Mum, *yes*. Why does something always have to be wrong?
Later, while tidying, Helen spotted Emmas open journal. Against
