“We only ever wanted whats best”
What dyou mean, music school? her mother snapped, hurling the leaflet Chloe brought home from school onto the kitchen table. Absolutely not. Dont even think about it.
Chloe lingered in the doorway, clutching her backpack to her chest. A lump stuck in her throat, but she couldnt swallow it away.
Mum, but I really want to
She wants to, does she, her mother shot back, mimicking. And what would you know about that? Youre going to study accounting. Thats a real job, respectable. Youll always have money in your pocket.
Her father sat at the kitchen table, staying out of the argument. But Chloe knewhis silence meant he agreed with her mum. Always.
Dad she pleaded, turning to him, clinging to a shred of hope. Dad, you said I was talented.
He looked up, glanced at his wife, and then hunched back over his plate.
Your mums got a point, Chloe. Music isnt a proper career. Its just messing about.
Hot, angry tears spilled down Chloes cheeks. She wiped her face with her school jumper sleeve, smudging the tears across her face.
And here we go again, the waterworks, her mum huffed. Look at Holly, your cousin! What is shea proper accountant, flat of her own, nice husband, lives decently. Why cant you be like her, eh? Or do you want to spend your life strumming that guitar outside the off-licence?
Always Holly. Aunt Margarets daughter, mums golden niece and constant role model. Holly-this, Holly-that. Married at twenty-five, house sorted, Mollysorry, Chloecould barely even wash up.
I dont want to be like Holly, Chloe whispered. I just want to do music.
Thats enough, her father pushed back his plate and heaved himself up from the table. Its settled. Youre off to study economics, end of. We know whats best for you.
Chloe stared at them bothher mum with her perennially disapproving glare, her father already heading out of the kitchen, convinced the conversation was over. United, unwavering, and she didnt stand a chance. She had no money, no voice in the matter. Just a dream, trampled into the kitchen lino along with that crumpled, colourful leaflet.
She nodded, quietly knelt to pick up the leaflet, smoothed out its bent pages, and dropped it in the kitchen bin.
Five years at university passed in a dreary blur. Chloe went to lectures, memorised accounting textbooks, sat endless exams. None of it made any real sense to her; none of it sparked even a glimmer of interest. Debits, credits, trial balancesjust heavy stone weighing down her mind.
At graduation, her mum beamed as if shed got the degree herself. Snapping endless photos of Chloe in front of the colleges pillars, ringing Aunt Margaret to boast.
So, work lined up already? Aunt Margaret asked over the phone, and her mum grinned triumphantly.
Sorted! Shes landed a position at a firmjust you wait, Chloes going to outshine everyone.
Our Chloe. Like she was a family project to be completed and polished.
Her first day at work was exactly as she feared. Shoehorned into a stuffy, windowless office, a blinking monitor, a pile of paperwork, and the stale smell of instant coffee. Her co-workerstwo women in their fortiesgossiped about supermarket deals and someones ugly split.
Chloe spent eight hours staring at spreadsheets. The numbers bled into each other, a meaningless stew. By home time, her head pounded and she was on the edge of tears.
Her first paycheck came on the 28th. She checked the amount on her phone, mentally did the sums. Enough. If she rented a room in some grotty suburb, scrimped on food, and bought nothing extrashed make it.
That evening, she quietly packed her things into her battered old suitcase. Her mum walked in as Chloe zipped it closed.
Whats going on here?
Im moving out.
For a moment, her mum just stared in confusion. Then colour rose on her cheeks.
Where exactly are you moving to? Have you lost your mind?
No, Chloe replied, hoisting her suitcase. Its my decision.
And what about the flat? The car? her mums voice wobbled, clutching the doorframe as if it was holding her up. Your dad and I had it all planned! Youd save up for a deposit, get a mortgage, marry nicely
Thats your plan, Chloe stepped past her towards the hall. Not mine. This is my life.
Her dad finally got involved.
Chloe, dont be daft. Where are you even going?
Anywhere.
Chloe opened the front door and stepped over the threshold. As she walked away, the door swung shut behind herpushed by the breeze.
The suitcase battered her shins as she tramped down the steps. A mongrel barked somewhere below, and on the fifth floor, someone had their radio turned right up. Just an ordinary night in an ordinary street.
Chloe stepped out into the mild evening air, drawing a deep breath as she walked toward the bus stop. Her wages felt reassuring in her pocket, her possessions rattled in her case. For the first time, her futurea blank, uncertain, unruly thingwas entirely her own.
For the next few months, her phone rang incessantly. Her mums messages ranged from threats to desperate pleas. Her dad would ring in the evenings, whenever she got back from work to her tiny rented boxroom.
Come home, he said. Enough is enough. Were family, arent we?
Chloe listened but shook her head, though he couldnt see.
No, Dad. I cant come back.
Then youre no daughter of ours, her mothers voice broke in, snatching the phone. Understand? Forget where home is. Weve no daughter.
The line went dead. Chloe stared at the screen and left the phone on the windowsill, sitting for ages in the dark, gazing out at the twinkling tower blocks. No tears, no pain, just a strange, ringing emptiness that closed over with time.
Ten years sped by. She rented three different flats, cycled through five jobs, survived bleary-eyed nights with sheet music and sound mixing software. She taught herself, working through the small hours while the rest of London slept. She took any jobpennies for a jingle, background tracks for student films, theme tunes for small projects. Gradually, determinedly, she broke through, inch by inch.
Now, her name flickers in the credits for three feature films and two TV series shown on national channels. Her home studio fills a whole room in a spacious flat. For the last three months, a wedding band gleams on her finger.
Tom comes into the studio while shes mixing a track, leaving a mug of coffee near her keyboard.
Theres someone at the intercom, he says, kissing her head.
Were not expecting anyone. Probably wrong flat.
But the bell rings again. And again. Persistent, insistentas if whoever is downstairs knows for sure someones in.
Chloe takes off her headphones and answers the entry system. On the screen, she sees an older couplea woman in a dated wool coat, a man in a shabby jacket. She recognises them at once, changed though they are by the last decade. Her mother stoops, her hair now grey, and her father looks softer, heavier.
She presses the intercom:
What do you want?
Chloe, love, her mother presses towards the camera, Its us. Please, let us in.
Chloe doesnt budge. Tom draws near, hand resting on her shoulder.
Your parents? he asks quietly.
Yeah.
She speaks again into the intercom.
How did you get my address?
Mutual friends, her mother replies hurriedly. Holly found your wedding photos onlinesaid what area youre in so then we
Right. Chloe cuts her off, gazing long at the screen. Ten years of silence. Ten years in which they never phoned, never wrote, never checked if she was even alive. And now, there they were, shuffling outside her building, peering into the security camera.
Ill come down, she tells Tom. Wait here.
On the landing by the main door, Chloe pauses, steadying herself. Then she opens the door, but stays in the frame, blocking their way in.
Chloe! her mother gushes, hands flying to her face. Youre so beautiful! Were so happy for you! That weddinggorgeous! We saw all the photos, and your Tomsuch a catch, from a lovely family
Why are you here?
Her mum falters, glances at her dad. He clears his throat, stuffs his hands in his pockets.
Were your parents, he begins. Its all water under the bridge, now. Youve really made something of yourself. You could give us a hand.
A hand? Chloe repeats.
Well, yes, he shrugs. We need the bathroom redone, its falling apart. And it’d be nice for once to have a proper holiday abroad. Youve got the money now, you and Tom
Her mum tugs his arm, hisses something through her teeth, but he waves her off.
Whats wrong with that? Shes our daughter. She owes us.
Chloe leans against the doorframe, arms folded. Her lips curve into a crooked smilecold and joyless.
Owes you, does she? she echoes. Funny. Ten years ago, I was told I had no family, to forget my way home. Now, just because I made it on my own, you remember youve got a daughter?
We just wanted you to realise your mistake, her mother babbles. We thought youd come back. We only ever wanted whats best
Whats best, Chloe nods. Heres the truth: Ive achieved everything because I wouldnt let go of my dream. I didnt end up an accountant. I didnt rot away in a stuffy office living out your plans. I chose my own way, and look where it got me.
She gestures behind her, at the well-lit lobby.
So, what exactly do you want? Money for renovations? A holiday? This is why you show up after all these years?
Come off it, will you, her dad mutters. No need to dredge up the past.
Im not dredging anything up. Im stating facts. I was out of your lives the minute I didnt follow your rules. Now, just because Ive done better than you reckoned, you want back in. Funny, that.
Her mother wipes her eyes, which are bright with tears.
Were still your parents, Chloe. We loved you. We brought you up
You want whats best? Chloe interrupts, and her mum stops dead. Then go. Forget me, forget this address. Carry on as if youve no daughterthats what you said ten years ago.
She backs into the lobby and starts to close the door. Her father moves as if to follow, but stops dead beneath her gaze.
Chloe
Goodbye.
The door closes with a quiet click.
Chloe heads upstairs, back into her flat. Tom waits in the hallway, searching her face for any sign of hurt.
All alright?
Yes, she breathes out, leaning into his embrace, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. Now it is.
He holds her, stroking her back, asking nothing more. Chloe realises that at last, shes surpassed cousin Holly. The house, the husband, the career shes proud ofits all there. But thats not the point. Not really.
Its the journeyten years of stumbles and struggles, of working to the point of exhaustion. Nowtrue, overflowing happiness. And that, to Chloe, is all that matters.
