The Trip to the Seaside
“Emily, I won’t allow it, do you hear me? You’re only eighteen. You don’t understand—” Sarah kept raising her voice, the argument with her daughter dragging on for hours.
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. Everyone else is going, but as usual, I’m not allowed,” Emily stood her ground stubbornly.
“Who’s ‘everyone’? Your friend Lily? Her mum lets her do all sorts of things—” Sarah cut herself off, realizing she’d gone too far. “Listen, love—”
“Did *you* listen when I said I didn’t want anything to do with John? Oh, right, a child’s opinion doesn’t matter. You didn’t listen then, and you did what *you* wanted. You said you deserved to be happy. Well? Are you happy, Mum? I’m not a child anymore—I’m an adult. And I want to be happy too. I *am* going, whether you like it or not. I don’t need your money, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Emily’s eyes gleamed with desperate tears.
“And *I* want you to be truly happy. You could make a mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life. Just think, Emily. You’ll be completely dependent on this Oliver. Do you *really* trust him? You barely know him. No one will be there to help if—”
“Relax, I won’t come back pregnant,” Emily scoffed.
“We’re not hearing each other.” Sarah sank onto the sofa, exhausted.
She was tired of justifying herself. Her husband had left her with three-year-old Emily, meagre child support, and vanished. When she met John, she never expected to love—or trust—a man again. John had spent years trying to be a father to Emily, a friend. And Emily had never accepted him.
Sarah remembered how her daughter had bristled when John first visited, how she’d asked afterward, “Is *he* moving in with us?”
“Yes. Do you mind?”
“Since when does my opinion matter? You’ll do what you want anyway,” twelve-year-old Emily had snapped.
Sarah tried to explain—John was good, she’d see that soon enough.
“You just don’t know him yet. You’ll like him.”
“Your daughter’s just jealous,” her best friend had said. “Don’t let her dictate your life. Before you know it, she’ll be grown, married, and you’ll be alone. A man like John doesn’t come along twice. You shouldn’t have to choose between him and Emily. Give it time—it’ll sort itself out.”
Sarah tried not to neglect Emily. But she was pulled toward John, while Emily fought for her attention. She was torn in two. When Emily realized her mother no longer belonged to her entirely, she began to withdraw. And now—this. They couldn’t hear each other.
This was Emily’s revenge. Oliver was polite, well-mannered, from a decent family. Sarah didn’t dislike him. But letting her daughter go to Brighton with him?
When a boy meets his girlfriend’s parents, he’s on his best behavior. Who was he *really*? You only see the tip of the iceberg—what lay beneath the polished surface?
Maybe Oliver’s parents had it easier. Sarah only had Emily. They’d *never* been apart. Now she wanted to go off with some boy. Of course there’d be wine, sex… Sarah had raised her alone, shielded her. How could she accept her little girl was grown, with a life of her own?
But she couldn’t keep her on a leash. Even John thought she should be allowed some freedom. She wasn’t stupid—she’d figure things out. When Sarah told him, *”If Emily were your daughter, you wouldn’t let her go,”* John had flushed but said nothing. Of *course* he wouldn’t. She was grateful he didn’t argue, didn’t fan the flames. He stepped back—let mother and daughter resolve it themselves.
Maybe she should’ve ended things with John, sacrificed herself for Emily. But how could she? She was only in her thirties—she still wanted love and happiness.
Now Emily wanted that happiness. Now *she* wasn’t listening. What was Sarah supposed to do? It was easy to judge, to give advice—until it was your own child. Then reason went quiet before a mother’s love and fear. Every mother wanted to shield her daughter from mistakes. But maybe *that* was the mistake.
Sarah sighed, weary from thinking, and walked into Emily’s room. Her daughter sat curled on the bed, scrolling through her phone. “Complaining to Oliver,” Sarah guessed.
“I’m tired of fighting. Of course I’m afraid for you. You’re only eighteen… Go. Just promise you’ll call. Keep your phone on so I can reach you.”
Emily looked up, startled. She hadn’t expected surrender.
“Fine,” she said.
*She’d have hugged me before. Said ‘Mum, love you.’ Now it’s like she’s doing me a favor.* Sarah wanted to say more but held back, sighing as she left. *Let her go. At least we’re not parting as enemies.*
In the kitchen, Sarah tried to steady herself.
“Can I take the blue suitcase?” Emily peered in.
“Of course. When do you leave?”
“Tonight, I *told* you.”
Had she? Sarah couldn’t remember. *Tonight?!* Already? She wasn’t used to the idea yet. *God, why am I just sitting—* She jumped up, took some emergency cash, and handed it to Emily.
“Take this. Don’t tell Oliver. If you want to come home, you can buy a ticket anytime.”
“Thanks.” Emily took the money, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. “Oliver’s picking me up. Please don’t come down—okay?” Her tone was almost conciliatory.
Sarah nodded and left. *Thank God, we made peace. At least we’re not enemies.*
“I expected a warzone—surprisingly quiet. You’re letting her go?” John walked in. Sarah hugged him.
“I’m so glad you’re here. John, I don’t know if this is right. I’m so worried.”
“Calm down. She’ll be fine. She’s a smart girl.”
Oliver arrived at half ten.
“You’re responsible for her. Call me, alright?” Sarah fought back tears. She didn’t *want* to let her go. For a second, she thought she saw doubt flicker in Emily’s eyes—but it vanished.
“Ready?” Emily said, eager to end the drawn-out goodbye. Oliver took the suitcase.
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back safe,” he said.
When the door closed, Sarah rushed to the kitchen window. John put his hands on her shoulders.
“They got in a cab. God, keep her safe…”
“Let’s have some tea,” John said.
***
In the taxi, Oliver draped an arm around Emily, pulling her close to kiss her.
“Stop it!” She pushed him away, shooting a glance at the driver.
Oliver straightened but kept his arm around her.
Maybe she’d been too harsh on Mum? She could still back out. Then the cab stopped, and Liam and Lily climbed in, filling the car with noise and laughter. Emily’s doubts disappeared. In a few hours, they’d be in Brighton.
They booked two hotel rooms. Emily had assumed they’d stay as couples, but she was nervous. The moment they were alone, Oliver pulled her toward the bed.
“We were supposed to go to the beach—” she started, but his touch made her forget. The sea would wait.
Later, they ate at a café. The boys and Lily ordered beer; Emily refused. The heat made her eager to swim.
The days flew by. Emily tanned, her skin smooth and glowing. She called and texted Sarah—*”The sea’s warm as milk. We’re on the beach all day. Don’t worry, love you!”*—sending photos where she looked happy. For a while, Sarah relaxed.
One day, the boys rented a yacht.
“Really? We’ll go out to sea? Maybe see dolphins? Amazing!” Emily grinned.
But at the marina, the “
