“You’ve ruined my whole life,” the daughter shouted, slamming the door.
“Mum, do you remember how you used to put me to bed when I was little?” Emily asked softly, sorting 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 had taken a different turn lately.
“Of course I remember,” Margaret smiled, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “You always asked for ‘The Three Little Pigs.’ The same story every night. And then youd beg me to stay until you fell asleepsaid you were afraid without me.”
Emily nodded, still studying the pictures. In one, she was five, sitting on her mothers lap with a book, both of them grinning.
“Did you ever get tired of it?”
“Tired of what, love?”
“Of me. The same routine every daywork, then home, then my endless demands.”
Margaret moved closer, sitting beside her daughter. Emily looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes. Since the divorce, shed lost weight, aged, grown sharp-tongued and quick to anger.
“Never,” Margaret whispered. “You were my whole world. Especially after your father left.”
“Ah, yes, dear old Dad,” Emily said bitterly. “Ran off with his secretary when I was seven. I remember hearing you cry in the kitchen at nightthought 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, how youd skip meat at dinner, saying you werent hungry, then finish my leftovers.”
Margaret turned away, uncomfortable hearing it from her grown daughter.
“Dont, Em. Its what any mother would do.”
“Any mother?” Emily set the photos aside, studying her. “Do you know what Lucy Bennett told me the other day? Remember Lucy from school?”
“The redhead? What about her?”
“She said she envied me back then. Can you believe it? Thought I had the perfect mumalways turned up to parents evenings looking smart, went through my homework, talked to the teachers. Her mother? Lucy said she drank, flitted from man to man, never asked about her grades.”
“Poor girl,” Margaret sighed. “I remember heralways seemed so sad.”
“And I thought she was the lucky one,” Emily admitted. “That her mother didnt control her every move.”
Margaret flinched as if struck.
“What do you mean?”
“Dont take it wrong, Mum, but sometimes your love felt smothering. Remember in Year 10 when I wanted to go on the 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 the money.”
“Or when I begged to go to Sarah Wilkinsons birthday disco in Year 11? You said ‘good girls stay home,’ that discos were no place for me.”
Margaret frowned. She remembered that nightEmily had screamed that she lived in a prison, then locked herself away for days.
“I was protecting your reputation! Our street was full of gossips. I couldnt have them saying Emily Harris was out gallivanting.”
“*You* couldnt bear the shame,” Emily corrected. “Not me. You always cared more about what people thought than what I wanted.”
“Emily!” Margaret bristled. “How can you say that? I spent my life thinking only of you!”
“Yesbut *your* way. You decided what was good for me. Remember forcing me to take piano? I hated it, but you said it would ‘build character.’ Three years of misery!”
“But you play beautifully now! Youre always tinkering on the keys.”
“Because its a habit. Back then, I wanted to join the netball team. But you said it was ‘unladylike,’ that Id get hurt.”
Margaret stood, walking to the window. Her chest ached. Had her daughter been silently resenting her all these years? Shed only ever wanted the best for her.
“Emily, I just wanted to spare you mistakes. To give you a better life than mine.”
“I know, Mum. And I understand why. You were afraid Id rebel, fall in with the wrong crowd, rush into marriage like so many do. So you kept me under your thumb.”
“Well, yes. Was that so wrong?”
Emily was quiet a moment. “Remember Daniel Whitmore? From the year above?”
“The tall blond who passed you notes?”
“Him. We liked each other. He asked me to the cinema, the skating rink. But you always found reasons to say nohomework, chores, sudden ‘illnesses.'”
“You were too young for boys!”
“I was sixteen, Mum! You treated me like a child. Daniel started seeing Claire instead. Theyre married now, you know.”
“Well, then it wasnt meant to be.”
“Or maybe it was,” Emily said softly. “Maybe if youd trusted me, let me choose, my life wouldve been different.”
Margaret turned sharply.
“Are you blaming me for your divorce? For things not working with James?”
“Not blaming. But… Mum, I didnt know how to *be* in a relationship. You raised me to distrust mensaid they were all cheaters, drinkers. That it was better to be alone than trapped with a bad husband.”
“Because I didnt want you making my mistakes!”
“And I couldnt trust James. Always waiting for him to betray me, until my suspicion drove him away. You taught me thatto fear, to doubt.”
The room fell silent. The stew bubbled too loudly, ignored. Margarets heart hurt.
“So all my love… ruined you?”
Emily hugged her. “Not ruined. But you sheltered me too much. I grew up timid, always seeking approval, unable to decide anything. Even at workthey give me the worst tasks because they know I wont refuse.”
“I thought you were just… good.”
“Obedient, yes. But not by choice. Im terrified of disappointing people. When James shouted over nothing, I took it. Thought I deserved it.”
Margaret turned off the stove, sighing.
“Emily, I never knew… I thought I was keeping you safe.”
“I know. And Im not angry. I just need to learn how to *live.* Im thirty-two and still feel like a child who doesnt understand the world.”
“Maybe see a therapist? They say it helps.”
“I have been. Six months now. She says Ive got low self-worth, cling to unhealthy relationships. Tells me to spend time alone, make my own choices.”
“Does it help?”
“Its hard. But Im trying. Last week, I went to Cornwallalone. Me, who used to panic taking the Tube by myself, just *went.*”
A spark lit Emilys eyesone Margaret hadnt seen in years.
“Wasnt it frightening?”
“At first! Im so used to you guiding me. But then… it was *freeing.* Choosing where to eat, when to wake, what to doit felt like joy.”
Margaret smiled through tears.
“Im happy for you, love.”
“Out there, I thought a lot. About us. And I realisedI dont want to resent you anymore. You did your best. You grew up strict yourself; Gran was worse than you.”
“Goodness, yes!” Margaret laughed wetly. “I wasnt allowed to *breathe* without permission.”
“So you only knew one way. But I know another now. And I want to live differently.”
Margaret hugged her tight.
“Forgive me, Emily, if I got it wrong.”
“No forgiveness needed. Just… lets move forward. As equals.”
“Youll let me be part of your life?”
“If you can let go. No more twenty calls a day, no interrogations about where I am. Trust me.”
“Ill try,” Margaret promised. “It wont be easy.”
“Nor for me. But well manage.” Emily picked up the photos again. “You know what else I realised in Cornwall? I want a baby. And I dont need a husband to have one.”
Margaret choked. “*What?* Butthe father”
“Ill find someone suitable. Women do it all the time now. Good genes, thats all.” Emily grinned. “Dont panic, Mum. Im a grown woman. Its my choice.”
“But what will people *say?*”
“I dont care. My life, my child. And I wont repeat your mistakes. Ill raise them to be brave, sure of themselves.”
“Emily, are you serious?”
“Completely. Ive even consulted a doctor. Says Im perfectly healthy.”
Margaret sat heavily.
“And… I can be part of the babys life?”
“Of course! Youll be Grandma. Just no unsolicited advice. Deal?”
“Deal,” Margaret whispered.
Emily hugged her. “I love you, Mum. And Im gratefulfor everything. But now I need to live *my* way. All right?”
“All right, darling. Well both adjust.”
Emily laughed. “The stews burnt.”
“Never mind,” Margaret said, smiling. “Lets order pizza. My treat. In factlets celebrate. A fresh start.”
“Sounds perfect,” Emily said. And for the first time in years, Margaret felt truly light.
