Margaret Thompson carefully arranged the plates on the table, adjusted the napkins, and glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. Her husband would be home from work in half an hour—just enough time to pop the sausages under the grill. The roast potatoes were done, the salad prepped, and the bread sliced evenly. Everything in its place, just how he liked it.
“Mum, can I go round to Emily’s tonight? She just got some new DVDs from London,” called her eighteen-year-old daughter, Lily, from her bedroom.
“No, love, Dad’ll be home soon. We’re having dinner as a family,” Margaret replied without turning around. “You can go later.”
“Oh, come on! I’m not a child anymore!” Lily huffed, but she didn’t press the issue. She knew her mum wouldn’t budge.
Margaret smirked. Eighteen? Still a baby, really. Why, she’d been married at that age, and here was Lily, still acting like a schoolgirl. Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Better to let her stay young a little longer.
The front door slammed, and in walked Robert Thompson—a burly man with greying temples, tired but content. His construction job was hard graft, but it paid the bills, and that’s what mattered.
“Evening, love,” he said, pecking Margaret on the cheek. “Smells good.”
“Your favourite—bangers and mash, with onion gravy,” she smiled. “Sit down, I’ll dish up.”
“Where’s Lily?”
“In her room—I’ll call her. Lily! Dad’s home!”
Lily bounded out, throwing her arms around her father.
“Dad, can I go to Emily’s after dinner? She’s got these amazing new films—”
Robert frowned.
“What sort of films? None of that foreign rubbish, I hope. You should be focusing on your A-levels. Uni’s not far off.”
“It’s not rubbish, Dad! Just normal films!”
“I said no, and that’s final!” Robert snapped. “Margaret, what’s got into her? Letting her run wild like this!”
Margaret quickly stepped in.
“Oh, Robert, she’s just young and curious. Lily, sit down and eat. We’ll talk later.”
Dinner passed in relative silence. Robert grumbled about work—how management kept piling on demands while cutting bonuses. Margaret nodded along, refilling his plate and topping up his tea. Lily picked at her food, eyes downcast.
“Margaret, what’s the gossip about the Wilsons next door?” Robert asked suddenly, polishing off his last sausage.
“What about them? They keep to themselves.”
“No, not that. Heard Mrs. Wilson got some office job, and now he’s the one at home with the kids.”
Margaret set her cup down carefully.
“Well, if it works for them…”
“Works for them?” Robert scoffed. “A man’s meant to provide, not play nanny! A woman’s place is in the kitchen, looking after the family. That’s how it’s meant to be!”
“But if she earns more—”
“No buts!” Robert thumped the table. “There’s an order to things! Man’s the head of the house, woman’s his helpmate. End of.”
Margaret nodded silently and began clearing the table. Arguing with Robert was pointless. Why stir trouble when silence kept the peace? Maybe he was right. She’d stayed home all her life, and they’d managed just fine.
Lily glanced between her parents, then ventured,
“Can I still go to Emily’s? Just for a bit?”
“No!” Robert barked. “I’ve said my piece! Go do your homework or read a book. No gallivanting about!”
Lily sighed and trudged off to her room. Margaret watched her go, a pang in her chest. Poor girl, never let out, always cooped up. But what could she do? Robert had spoken.
A few days later, Margaret bumped into their neighbour, Susan, at the market. Susan was beaming.
“Margaret! Did you hear? Our Sophie got into King’s College London! Can you believe it? Off to the big city!”
“That’s wonderful,” Margaret said sincerely. “What’s she studying?”
“Economics. Wants to be a financial analyst, maybe even run a company one day. I was nervous at first—London’s so far—but then I thought, why hold her back? Let her spread her wings!”
“And your husband? Was he on board?”
Susan sighed.
“We had a right row about it. He kept saying, ‘What’s a girl need a degree for? She’ll just get married anyway.’ But I told him—times have changed! A woman needs her own career, her own independence. We nearly came to blows, but I stood my ground. No regrets.”
Margaret nodded silently. That evening, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Lily would be applying soon too—but where? Robert had already made it clear: “What’s the point of uni for a girl? Get her a teaching certificate—steady job, then marriage. Sorted.”
But Lily dreamed of journalism. She wanted to study at uni, write articles, interview people. She’d gush about it when Robert wasn’t around, eyes shining. The moment he was in earshot, though, he’d shut it down.
“Journalism’s no job for a woman. All that travelling, interviewing strangers? Not proper.”
And Margaret stayed quiet. She never backed Lily up, never challenged Robert. Just stayed silent, as always.
Summer flew by. Lily applied to teacher training college, just as Robert insisted. She got in easily—she’d always been bright. On enrolment day, she came home gloomy.
“Well, love, congratulations!” Robert boomed. “We’ll have a teacher in the family! Sensible choice.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Lily murmured, then vanished to her room.
Margaret watched her go, that familiar pang returning. But what could she do? Start a row? Wreck the peace? No.
College was easy for Lily, but joyless. She attended like it was a prison sentence, barely mentioning it at home. Margaret tried to ask, but got only shrugs.
“It’s fine, Mum.”
“Are the lecturers nice?”
“They’re alright.”
“Made any friends?”
“A few.”
That was it.
One evening, when Robert was working late, Lily suddenly burst into tears at dinner.
“Lily? What’s wrong?” Margaret panicked.
“Mum, remember Emily? From school?”
“Of course. Why?”
“She’s at uni now, studying journalism. Saw her yesterday—she loves it. All these fascinating people, new ideas… And what am I doing? Singing nursery rhymes and wiping noses.”
Margaret didn’t know what to say. She stroked Lily’s hair like she was still a child.
“Teaching’s noble work, love. Shaping young minds.”
“But it’s not what I wanted,” Lily whispered. “I wanted to write, to explore. Now what? Stuck in a primary school forever?”
“You’ll marry, have children—”
“What if I don’t want that yet? What if I want to find myself first?”
Margaret floundered. In her day, life was simpler: school, then work or marriage. Now Lily was asking questions she couldn’t answer.
“You’re young. You’ll understand in time,” she said lamely.
Lily wiped her eyes and left.
Another year passed. Lily grew quieter, more withdrawn. She barely spoke at home—just hellos and goodbyes. Margaret worried, but didn’t know how to help.
Then, the bombshell. Lily announced she was getting married.
“Married?!” Robert spluttered. “You barely know him!”
“I do, Dad. His name’s James, works as a mechanic. Good bloke.”
“What about college? You’re dropping out?”
“Yeah. Why bother? I’ll be a wife, then a mum.”
Robert hesitated.
“But you’re nearly qualified…”
“Don’t need it,” Lily said flatly. “James says wives shouldn’t work. He’ll provide.”
Margaret listened, unease gnawing at her. Lily was saying the right words, but there was no joy in her voice, no light in her eyes. Just resignation.
“Lily… do you love him?” Margaret ventured.
“Course I do,” Lily said too quickly. “Isn’t it obvious?”
It wasn’t. Not at all. But Margaret stayed silent, as always.
The wedding was small, at a local hall. Lily looked beautiful, but distant. She smiled when expected, said the right things—but it was all an act.
The newlyweds moved into James’s cramped flat. Life was quiet—no rows, but no happiness either. James was domineering. Lily obeyed without question, as if she’d given up entirely.
Six months later, she was pregnant. Margaret was thrilled—a grandchild!—but Lily showed no excitement.
“How are you feeling?” Margaret asked.
“Fine.”
