A Trip to the Seaside
“Emily, I said no, do you hear me? You’re only eighteen. You don’t understand…” Margaret kept raising her voice. She and her daughter had been arguing 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 Sophie? Her mum lets her do anything…” Margaret cut herself off, knowing she’d gone too far. “Listen, love—”
“Did *you* listen when I said I didn’t want anything to do with James Wilson? Oh, right, a child’s opinion doesn’t matter. You didn’t listen to me then either—you just did what *you* wanted. You said you deserved to be happy. Well, are you happy now, 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. Don’t worry, I won’t ask for money.” Tears of frustration shone in Emily’s eyes.
“That’s exactly why I’m saying no—I want you to be *truly* happy. You might make a mistake you’ll regret forever. Just think, Emily. You’ll be completely dependent on this Daniel. Do you really trust him? You’ve barely known him a few weeks. There’ll be no one there to help if—”
“Relax, I won’t come home knocked up,” Emily scoffed.
“We’re not hearing each other.” Defeated, Margaret sank onto the sofa.
She was tired of justifying herself. Her husband had left her with three-year-old Emily, a measly child support cheque, and disappeared. When she met James, she never imagined she could love or trust a man again. All these years, James had tried to be a father to Emily, tried to be her friend. But Emily never accepted him.
Margaret remembered the first time James came over—how her daughter glared at him, then asked after he’d left,
“Is *he* moving in?”
“Yes. Do you mind?”
“Since when does my opinion matter? You’ll do what you want anyway,” twelve-year-old Emily had huffed.
Margaret had tried to explain that James was good, that she’d see that soon enough.
“You just don’t know him yet. You’ll like him, trust me.”
“Your daughter’s jealous,” her best friend had said. “Don’t let her dictate your life. Before you know it, she’ll be grown up, married, and you’ll be alone. A man like James doesn’t come around often. You shouldn’t have to choose between him and Emily. Give it time—things will settle.”
Margaret had tried not to neglect Emily. But she hadn’t been entirely successful. She was drawn to James, while Emily constantly demanded her attention, pulling her in opposite directions. And when Emily realised her mum no longer belonged solely to her, she’d withdrawn. Now, here they were—unable to hear each other.
This was Emily’s revenge. Daniel seemed like a decent, well-mannered lad from a good family. She didn’t dislike him. But letting her daughter go off with him to Brighton…
When a young man meets a girl’s parents, he’s on his best behaviour. But who was he *really*? People only showed the tip of the iceberg—what lay beneath the polished surface?
Maybe it was easier for a boy’s parents. Margaret only had Emily. They’d never really been apart. Now, she wanted to go off with some boy—to Brighton, no less. Wine would flow, and sex would happen. Margaret had raised her alone, always protective. Of course the thought of her daughter being grown up, with a boyfriend and a life of her own, was hard to swallow.
But she couldn’t keep her on a leash. Even James thought Emily should be given freedom. She wasn’t stupid—she’d figure things out. When Margaret had said, “If Emily were *your* daughter, you wouldn’t let her go,” James had flushed but held his tongue. Of course he wouldn’t have. She was grateful he hadn’t argued—hadn’t let things escalate. He’d stepped back, letting mother and daughter resolve this themselves.
Perhaps she just had to accept it and hope for the best.
Should she have broken up with James? Denied herself happiness, devoted herself only to Emily? But how could she forget her own needs when she was barely over thirty and still longed for love?
Now, it was Emily who wanted happiness—who wouldn’t listen to her mother. What could she do? It was easy to give advice about other people’s children. But when it came to your own, logic vanished beneath fear and love. Every mother wanted to shield her child from mistakes. But what if *that* was the biggest mistake?
Exhausted, Margaret sighed and went to Emily’s room. Her daughter sat cross-legged on the bed, glued to her phone. “Complaining to Daniel,” Margaret guessed.
“I’m tired of fighting. Of *course* I’m scared for you—of course I want to stop you making a mistake. You’re only eighteen… Fine. Go. Just promise you’ll call. Don’t switch your phone off.”
Emily looked up in surprise—clearly not expecting surrender.
“Alright,” she said flatly.
She would’ve once thrown her arms around Margaret, called her “Mum,” been effusive. Now, agreeing not to turn her phone off seemed like a favour. Margaret wanted to say more but just sighed and walked out. “Let her go. At least we’re not parting as enemies.”
She sat at the kitchen table, trying to steady herself.
“Can I take the blue suitcase?” Emily peered in.
“Of course. When are you leaving?”
“Tonight—like I said.”
Right. Tonight. Already? It felt too soon. “God, what am I doing…?” Margaret jumped up, grabbed some emergency cash, and handed it to Emily.
“Take this. Keep it to yourself—don’t tell Daniel. If you want to come home, use it for a ticket.”
“Thanks.” Emily pocketed the money, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. “Daniel’s picking me up. Please don’t come out to say goodbye, okay?” Her tone was conciliatory now.
Margaret nodded and left. “Thank God—we made peace. At least we’re not enemies.”
“Thought there’d be fireworks, but it’s quiet. You let her go, then?” James walked in. Margaret hugged him.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Oh, James, I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing. I’m so worried.”
“Relax. She’ll be fine. She’s a smart girl.”
Daniel arrived just before half ten.
“You’d better look after her. Call us, alright?” Margaret fought back tears. She didn’t want to let her go. For a second, she even caught a flicker of doubt in Emily’s eyes—but it vanished just as quickly.
“I’m ready,” Emily said, eager to end the drawn-out goodbye. Daniel took the suitcase.
“Don’t worry—I’ll bring her back safe and sound.”
When the door closed, Margaret rushed to the kitchen window. James placed his hands on her shoulders.
“They got in a taxi. God, keep her safe…”
“Let’s have some tea,” James said.
***
In the taxi, Daniel slung his arm around Emily, pulling her close and kissing her.
“Stop!” She pushed him away, throwing a glance at the driver.
Daniel sat up but kept his arm around her.
Maybe she’d been too harsh on her mum? She could still change her mind—go back. But then the taxi stopped, and Liam and Sophie piled in, filling the car with noise and laughter. Emily’s doubts faded. In a few hours, they’d be in Brighton, by the sea…
They booked two rooms at a hotel. Emily had expected to share with Sophie, but nerves prickled when they were left alone. Daniel immediately pulled her towards the bed.
“We were going to the beach…” she started, but his touch melted her resistance. The sea would wait.
Later, they ate at a café. The lads and Sophie ordered beer; Emily refused. The heat made her eager to dive into the water.
The days flew by. Emily tanned, her skin glowing. She called or texted her mum to say all was well, even sending beach photos.
*”The sea’s warm as bathwater. We’re at the beach all day—don’t worry! Love you!”* Margaret reread the messages, studying the photos. Emily *did* look happy. For a while, that soothed her.
One day, the boys rented a yacht, announcing it over lunch.
“Seriously? We’re going out to sea? Might even see dolphins! Brilliant!” Emily beamed.
But at the marina, the “yacht” was a rickety little boat, owned by a sun-leathered local. Bottles clinked in Liam’s backpack as theyThe moment Emily turned to watch the fading shoreline, she knew she’d never again mistake freedom for recklessness—some lessons, she realised, could only be learned the hard way.
