We honestly just wanted the best
What on earth is this music college nonsense? Mum threw the leaflet Id brought home from school onto the kitchen table. Not a chance. Dont even think about it.
I hovered in the kitchen doorway, clutching my rucksack so tightly my fingers ached. There was a lump in my throat I couldnt swallow.
Mum, but I really want to
Oh, you want, do you? she mimicked. What do you know? Youre going to study accountancy. Proper job, respect, security. Youll never be short of a bob or two.
Dad sat at the table eating his dinner, not joining in but I knew his silence meant he agreed with her. He always did.
Dad I turned to him, still hoping for something, anything. Dad, youre the one who always said Ive got talent.
He glanced at Mum, then dropped his eyes to the plate.
Your mums right, Alice. Musics not a real job. Its just a hobby.
The tears broke loose, hot and angry. I wiped my cheeks on my uniform sleeve, smudging it across my face.
Oh, there she goes again, blubbing, Mum muttered. Look at Emily, your cousin. Shes an accountant, by the way. And what? Owns a flat, got a decent husband living like a proper person. Are you less than her? Going to spend your days strumming a guitar outside Sainsburys?
Emily. Always Emily. Auntie Lindas precious daughter the shining example, the one Mum couldnt go five minutes without bringing up. Emily this, Emily that. Married by twenty-five, sorted. And me? Apparently unable to even wash up properly.
I dont want Emilys life, I whispered. I just want to do music.
Thats enough. Dad pushed his plate away and stood up heavily. Weve made up our minds. Youre doing business studies at uni, and thats final. We know whats best.
I looked between them Mums perma-frown, Dad already walking away, washing his hands of me and my dreams. A united front, impossible to breach. I had no money, no say. Just a dream, left trampled on the kitchen lino along with the crumpled leaflet.
I nodded, gathered the leaflet off the floor smoothed out the pages and chucked it in the bin.
* * *
Five years of uni blurred into one dull, grey stretch. I went to lectures, crammed for exams, ticked off assignments. I didnt understand any of it, didnt care. Debits, credits numbers piled up in my head and crushed every shred of me.
At graduation, Mum beamed as if shed earned the degree herself. Took photos of me in front of the tall columns outside, rang Auntie Linda to brag.
So, has she got a job lined up? asked Auntie down the phone. Mum grinned like shed won the lottery.
All sorted. Shes got interviews at a solid firm. Alice will do better than any of them just watch.
Her Alice. Like I was some project, a prize, never a person.
The first day at work was exactly as Id dreaded. A poky, windowless office, dusty old monitor, stack of files, the tang of cheap instant coffee in the air. The only other people were two women in their forties dissecting the latest supermarket offers and moaning about their ex-husbands.
I spent eight hours staring at spreadsheets until the numbers blurred together into a mess. By five, my head throbbed and all I wanted was to cry.
My first salary landed on the 28th. I checked the amount in my banking app, did a quick sum in my head just about enough. Barely. If I rented a room out on the edge of town, ate beans on toast, went nowhere, bought nothing extra Id scrape by.
That night I quietly packed my stuff into the battered old suitcase. Mum walked in just as I zipped it up.
Whats all this about?
Im moving out.
For a second she just stared at me, as if she couldnt process it. Then her face coloured, angry.
Moving out? Are you completely mad?
No, I said, picking up my suitcase. Ive made my mind up.
But what about the flat? Your car? We had it all worked out! Youd save for a deposit, get your mortgage, then marry a nice bloke
That was your plan, I stepped round her into the hallway. This is my life, not yours.
Dad appeared, trying to step in.
Alice, dont be daft. Where will you go?
Somewhere.
I opened the front door. Walked over the threshold as it banged shut behind me, the draft slamming it for me.
My suitcase thudded against my legs as I bumped down the stairs. Somewhere a dog barked, a radio blared from upstairs. Just another evening, just another terrace.
I made it out onto the street, gulped down the fresh air and headed for the bus stop. My first wage was in my pocket, my whole life crammed in a tatty case, and ahead of me the unknown, frightening, totally and utterly mine future.
* * *
The first few months, my phone wouldnt shut up with calls. Mum sent epic texts, veering between threats and pleading. Dad tried me in the evenings, always after work when Id trudge home to my tiny rented room.
Come home, hed rasp down the line. Enough of this. Were a family.
Id listen to his tired voice, shake my head, knowing he couldnt see it.
No, Dad. I wont come home.
Then youre no daughter of ours, Mum snapped, snatching the phone from him. Hear me? Forget this address. Weve got no daughter.
The line cut. I stared at the blank screen, put the phone on the windowsill, and sat for ages staring into the dark, at the flickering lights on unfamiliar houses. No tears left, no pain anymore. Just a odd ringing emptiness one that, bit by bit, faded.
* * *
Ten years flew by. I hopped through three rented flats, five jobs, countless sleepless nights poring over music software and scribbles. I taught myself in the dark, while the whole city slept. Took any job I could cheesy adverts, tiny fees for student films, whatever came along. Slowly, snatching odd minutes, bit by painful bit, I made it.
Now my name appeared in the credits of three feature films, two TV dramas proper ones, on national telly. My home studio took up a whole room in my light-filled flat. And there, on my left hand, glinted an engagement ring sparkling away for the last three months.
Ben came into the studio while I was finishing a new track, setting down a mug of fresh coffee next to the keyboard.
Theres someone buzzing at the door, he said, kissing the top of my head. Odd were not expecting anyone. Must be the wrong flat.
But the buzz came again. And again. Firm, insistent like whoever was down there knew, without a doubt, we were in.
I pulled off my headphones and went to the intercom. On the tiny screen: two tired-looking people, a woman in an old-fashioned coat and a man in a battered jacket. I knew them in an instant, even with the greyer hair and softer bodies. My parents.
I pressed the button.
What do you want?
Alice, Mum leaned in to the camera. Darling, its us. Please let us in.
I didnt move. Ben stepped closer, touched my arm.
Your parents? he asked softly.
Yeah.
I pressed the button again.
How did you get the address?
A friend of a friend Emily saw your wedding photos online, spotted the area we, well, we
Right.
I cut her off and watched them shuffle their feet. Ten years, not a word. Not a Christmas card, not even a quick text to check if Id survived. Now there they were, peering up at the door camera like ghosts from a dream.
Ill go down, I told Ben. Wait here.
On the landing I loitered by the door, heart hammering. Finally, I opened it, but blocked the doorway with my body.
Alice! Mum gasped, hands to her face. Youve become so beautiful! Were so pleased for you! The wedding was just gorgeous, we saw the pictures, your husband looks so nice
Why are you here? I asked, cutting her off.
She faltered, glancing at Dad. He coughed, stuffed his hands in his jacket.
Were your parents, Alice, he started softly. Its all water under the bridge, eh? Youre doing so well now. Surely you could help us out a little?
Help?
Well, yeah, he shrugged. We need the bathroom redone its falling apart. And itd be nice to have a proper holiday, you know, somewhere warm, bit of sun. You and your husband, youre doing okay, right?
Mum tugged on his sleeve, hissed something under her breath, but Dad shook her off.
Whats wrong? You owe us, after all. Were your parents.
I leaned against the frame, arms folded. My mouth curled into a half-smile sharp, almost cruel.
Owe you, is it? I said. Funny. For ten years, you told me I wasnt your daughter, to forget you even existed. Now Ive made something of myself, suddenly Im family again.
We just wanted you to realise your mistake, Mum rushed out. To come to your senses. We just wanted the best
The best, I echoed. Well, do you know what? I only got here because I stuck with my dream. I didnt become an accountant, didnt lock myself into some stifling office. I forged my own path and here I am.
I gestured at the bright entrance hall, my world.
So, you actually traipsed over here for what? Cash for new tiles? Pocket money for a trip to Majorca? Seriously? After a decade of nothing?
Come off it, love, Dad muttered. How long are you going to bang on about the past?
Im not going on about anything. Just stating facts. You cut me out when I refused to live by your script. Now, suddenly, because my life worked out better, you want in. Thats convenient.
Mum sniffed, eyes watery.
But were your parents, Alice! We always loved you, brought you up
Do you want the best? I cut in, my voice sharp. Then go. Forget me. Forget this place. Carry on as though youve no daughter just like you said ten years ago.
I took a step back, hands on the handle. Dad moved as if to stop me, but I froze him with a look.
Alice
Goodbye.
I closed the door softly behind me.
Upstairs, Ben was waiting, watching my face anxiously.
You okay?
Yeah, I breathed, leaning into him, resting my forehead against his chest. Now I am.
He hugged me tight, silent.
And, you know, I realised something. I really did end up better off than Emily. I had it all flat, husband, a career worth shouting about. But thats not the point.
What mattered was the journey. The stumbles, the grind, the nights alone with headphones and endless coffee. Ten years spent fighting for a life I could call my own. And now Im truly, completely happy. The rest doesnt matter a jot.
