My Daughter Went Radio SilentThen I Found Out What She Was Up To
My daughter, Emily, used to ring me every Sunday without fail, even if it was just for a quick natter. Those calls were our little traditionwed chat about her job in London, whether shed tried that new recipe for shepherds pie, or if shed finally finished that novel shed been lugging around. Sometimes shed phone from Tesco just to ask, Mum, how long do I roast the beef again? and Id chuckle because shed asked me the same thing last week.
Then, in March, the calls stopped.
At first, I assumed she was swamped. Work deadlines, perhaps. Or maybe she and her husband, Oliver, had popped off to the Cotswolds for a weekend. A week passed, then two. I sent texts*How are you, love? Miss you. Give us a ring when you can.* Not a single one was read. Birthdays came and went without so much as a WhatsApp sticker.
This wasnt like her. And I knewsomewhere deep in that special place only mums havethat something wasnt right.
Turns out, my gut was spot on.
It was my son, James, who finally spilled the beans. One evening, he rang and said hed had a quick chat with her. Shes fine, he insisted, but his voice had all the conviction of a soggy biscuit. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, Though she mentioned Oliver doesnt want her working anymore. Or driving. Said its less stressful this way.
My stomach did a backflip.
James brushed it off, suggesting Oliver just fancied the traditional household vibe, and that I was reading too much into it. But Im her mother. I know Emily. Shes fiercely independent, the sort who once argued with her GCSE teacher over a single mark. Shed built her career from the ground up, pulled all-nighters, and chased every ambition shed ever had. She wouldnt just surrender all thatnot without a proper row.
That night, I barely slept. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my brain conjuring up every worst-case scenario. Was she being controlled? Too scared to tell us? In actual danger?
By dawn, Id made up my mind.
The next morning, I hopped in my car and drove straight to her flat in Bristolthree hours without so much as a loo break. Every mile felt like wading through treacle. My imagination had her locked in a cupboard, or worse. No plan, just pure mum instinct screaming that my girl needed me.
When she finally opened the door, I hardly knew her.
She looked gaunt. Dark circles under her eyes, like she hadnt slept since the last episode of *Strictly*. She managed a weak smile that didnt reach her eyes and kept glancing over her shoulder, as if waiting for someone to yank her back inside.
My pulse was racing. I stepped closer and hissed, Youre coming with me. Now.
She hesitated, then sighed. I cant. Not yet.
That threw me. My stomach lurched. Why? Whats going on, love?
She didnt answer straight away. Finally, she stepped aside. Youd better come in, Mum.
The second I walked in, my jaw hit the floor. The place looked like it had been ransacked by a herd of particularly rowdy badgers. The sofa cushions were missing, the curtains were in tatters, and there was strawactual strawscattered across the kitchen tiles.
I froze. What in the name of the Queens corgis happened here?
Before she could reply, something moved in the corner of my eye. I turnedand there, in the middle of the carnage, sat the most adorable little spaniel pup, tail wagging like a windscreen wiper, gnawing on a chew toy like it hadnt a care in the world.
I blinked. Is that a sheep in your bathtub?
She nodded sheepishly. Two, actually.
Turns out, she and Oliver had signed up to foster rescue animalsjust for a fortnight, shed said. But a fortnight had somehow spiralled into a full-blown menagerie: two sheep, four kittens, three puppies, and a pair of particularly cheeky rabbits with a taste for home furnishings.
I stood there, gobsmackedthree hours of white-knuckled driving, imagining all manner of horrorsonly to discover my daughter had simply morphed into a full-time pet wrangler.
I started laughing. A little giggle at first, then proper belly laughs until tears streamed down my face. She joined in, and soon we were both cackling like a pair of hyenas.
All that dread, all those sleepless nightsand it all boiled down to a flat overrun with love, fur, and absolute bedlam.
That day, I stayed to help her tidy, feed the animals, andnaturallycuddle the pup whod started it all.
As the sun dipped behind the rooftops, she grinned at me and said, You always know when to turn up, Mum.
I suppose a mothers intuition never really misfireseven when it leads you straight to a lounge full of livestock.
