**A 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. She’d been arguing with her daughter for hours.
“It’s *you* who doesn’t understand. Everyone’s going, and as usual, I’m the one who can’t,” Emily insisted stubbornly.
“Who’s *everyone*? Your mate Lily? Her mum lets her get away with murder—” Sarah bit her tongue, knowing she’d gone too far. “Listen, love—”
“Did *you* listen when I said I didn’t want anything to do with Jonathan bloody Thompson? Oh, right, a child’s opinion doesn’t matter. You ignored me and did what *you* wanted. You said you deserved to be happy. Well? Are you happy, Mum? I’m not a kid anymore. I’m an adult. And I want to be happy too. I’m going, whether you like it or not. And I don’t need your money.” Tears of frustration shone in Emily’s eyes.
“That’s exactly what *I* want—for you to be happy. But this could be a mistake you’ll regret forever. Think about it, Emily! You’ll be completely dependent on this Daniel bloke. Do you *really* trust him? You barely know him! There’ll be no one there to help—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t come back pregnant,” Emily scoffed.
“We’re not hearing each other.” Exhausted, Sarah sank onto the sofa.
She was tired of defending herself. Her husband had left her with a three-year-old Emily, a pittance in child support, and vanished. When she met Jonathan, she never expected to love or trust a man again. All these years, he’d tried to be a father to Emily, tried to be her friend. But Emily had never accepted him.
Sarah remembered how Emily had bristled when Jonathan first came round. After he left, she’d asked,
“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 Jonathan was a good man, that she’d see that soon enough.
“You just don’t know him yet. You’ll like him, you’ll see.”
“Your girl’s just jealous,” her best mate had said. “Don’t let her call the shots. Before you know it, she’ll be grown, married off, and you’ll be alone. A decent bloke like Jonathan doesn’t come along twice. Don’t make it a choice between him and Emily. Give it time—it’ll sort itself out.”
Sarah tried not to neglect Emily. But she hadn’t done well. She was drawn to Jonathan, while Emily constantly fought for her attention. Torn in two, Sarah watched as Emily—realising her mother was no longer hers alone—pulled away. And now this. They couldn’t hear each other anymore.
Now Emily was punishing her. Daniel seemed polite, well-mannered, from a good family. Sarah had no issue with *him*. But letting her daughter go on holiday with him…
When a lad meets a girl’s parents, he’s always on his best behaviour. But who was he *really*? People only show the tip of the iceberg—what lay beneath the polished surface?
Maybe it was easier for lads’ parents. Sarah only had Emily. They’d never really been apart. Now she wanted to jet off to the seaside with some boy. Of course there’d be wine, of course there’d be sex. Sarah had raised Emily alone, doted on her. Of *course* she struggled to accept her daughter was grown, with a boyfriend, a life of her own.
But she couldn’t keep her on a leash. Even Jonathan thought she needed freedom. “She’s not daft—she’ll work things out.” When Sarah had said, *If Emily were your daughter, you wouldn’t let her go*, Jonathan had stiffened but stayed silent. No, of course *he* wouldn’t let her go. Sarah was grateful he hadn’t argued, hadn’t stoked the fight. He’d stepped back. Let mother and daughter sort it themselves.
Fine. She’d have to accept it and hope for the best.
Maybe she should’ve ended things with Jonathan, forgotten her own happiness, devoted herself entirely to Emily. But how could she forget herself when she was only in her thirties, still aching for love?
Now it was her daughter who wanted happiness. Now *she* wouldn’t listen. What could Sarah do? It was easy to judge and advise when it was someone else’s child. But when it was your own, common sense wilted before a mother’s love and fear. Every mum wants to shield her daughter from mistakes. But was *that* the real mistake?
With a weary sigh, Sarah pushed off the sofa and went to Emily’s room. Emily sat curled on her bed, scowling at her phone. *Complaining to Daniel*, Sarah 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. And keep your phone on.”
Emily looked up, startled. Clearly she hadn’t expected Sarah to cave.
“Okay,” she said flatly.
*A year ago, she’d have thrown her arms round me, called me ‘Mummy.’ Now I’m lucky if she even answers.* Sarah wanted to say more but swallowed it, sighing as she left. *Let her go. At least we didn’t part as enemies.*
Sitting alone in the kitchen, Sarah tried to calm herself.
“Can I take the blue suitcase?” Emily hovered in the doorway.
“Of course. When are you leaving?”
“Tonight. I *told* you.”
Sarah had forgotten. *Tonight?* So soon. She wasn’t used to the idea of letting Emily go. *God, why am I just sitting here—* She jumped up, grabbed some emergency cash, and pressed it into Emily’s hand.
“Take this. Keep it quiet—don’t tell Daniel. If you want to come home, buy a ticket and leave. No questions.”
“Thanks.” Emily took the money, her lips quirking faintly. “Daniel’s picking me up. Please don’t make a scene, yeah?”
Sarah nodded and stepped back. *Thank God we’re parting in peace.*
“I thought I’d find World War Three in here. So you’re letting her go?” Jonathan walked in. Sarah hugged him tightly.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Jon, I don’t know if this is right. I’m terrified.”
“Relax. She’s a bright girl. She’ll be fine.”
Daniel arrived at half ten.
“You’re responsible for her. *Call me*,” Sarah said, fighting tears. She didn’t want to let go. For a second, she even saw doubt flicker in Emily’s eyes—then it vanished.
“Ready?” Emily cut the goodbye short. Daniel grabbed the suitcase.
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back safe.”
The door closed. Sarah rushed to the kitchen window. Jonathan rested his hands on her shoulders.
“They’ve got in a cab. God, keep her safe…”
“Let’s have some tea,” Jonathan murmured.
***
In the cab, Daniel slung an arm around Emily, pulling her close for a kiss.
“Stop it!” She shoved him, shooting a glare at the driver.
Daniel straightened but left his arm draped over her.
*Was I too hard on Mum? I could still go back…* But then the cab stopped, and in climbed Tom and Lily. The car erupted with laughter, drowning Emily’s doubts. In a few hours, they’d be in Brighton, by the sea…
They booked two rooms at a hotel. Emily had assumed they’d share as couples—but now, alone with Daniel, her nerves kicked in. He tugged her toward the bed.
“We were supposed to go to the beach—” she started, but his touch melted her protests. The sea wasn’t going anywhere.
Later, they ate at a café. The lads and Lily ordered beers; Emily refused. The heat had her itching to dive into the water.
The days flew. Emily tanned, her skin turning smooth and golden. She called or texted Sarah—*Sea’s warm as milk. We’re fine. Love you!*—even sent beach snaps. Sarah pored over them. Emily *looked* happy. For a while, that soothed her.
One day, the boys rented a boat, announcing it over lunch.
“Seriously? We’re going out to sea? Might see dolphins! Brilliant!” Emily beamed.
But at the harbour, the “boat” was a dinghy owned by a sun-leathered local. When they boarded, bottles clinked in Tom’s rucksack.
“You’re drinking *again*?” Emily frowned.
“Relax, it’Emily swam to shore with trembling limbs, and when she finally collapsed onto the sand, gasping for breath, she knew she would never again mistake recklessness for freedom.
