Trying to Palms Me Off
What on earth are you wearing? Anne Richardson cast her gaze over her daughter, lingering on the skirt. That is indecently short. At your age, you cant keep dressing like a little girl.
Emily instinctively tugged at the hem, though her skirt barely skimmed her knees. A standard office pencil skirt, snagged last month in an end-of-season sale. Shed thought it the perfect find: classic cut, neutral colour.
Mum, its absolutely fine, Emily replied, striving to keep irritation from her voice. I wear it to work.
Thats exactly it. People will get entirely the wrong idea. When I was your age…
Emily didnt bother listening; shed heard it all beforeabout modesty, about back in my day, about what a respectable woman should look like. Instead of arguing, she placed a plump envelope on the table, stamped with the travel agents logo.
Thats for you, Mum
Anne fell silent mid-lecture, glancing warily at the envelope, then at her daughter, then back again.
What have you dragged in this time?
Just open it.
Emily had waited six months for this moment, saving every last penny she could. The spa hotel in Bath with the Georgian columns and the mineral springsher mothers lifelong dream. Emily had found it, booked the best room, planned every detail.
Anne slid out the booking, eyes flitting across the papers. Emily braced herself; if not for a hug, then at least a gentle thank you, a softening in her mothers eyes.
Anne pressed her lips together in obvious displeasure, shuffling the envelope to the edge of the table as if it were something grimy.
Youve gone and decided it all for me again.
Emily felt her chest tighten.
Mum, its Bath. You always said you wanted
And whos going to water my African violets while Im gone? Anne tapped the table. Three full weeks, and theyll be nothing but sticks!
Ill pop round every day, Emily said.
You work all week. Youll forget, or youll get busy. And the foodplaces like that always feed you on cabbage and nothing else. Saw it in the papersthe new spas scrimp wherever they can.
Emily stared, uncomprehending. Six months forgoing her morning coffees, new shoes, the odd weekend away with friendsfor this?
Mum, theyve got a restaurant with five different dining rooms. Menus for every taste. Massages, a pool, walks around the gardens
Terrace walks, Anne mimicked in a high voice. Learned yourself all the fancy words. Did it ever cross your mind to actually ask me if I even wanted any of this?
Emily choked back the lump in her throat. She wanted just one thinga curt good job, the faint trace of pride shed chased all these years.
Her legs lost their strength, so Emily slumped onto a chair, staring at the envelope her mother had nudged aside.
And the weather down there, Anne continued, fussing with the perfectly smooth tablecloth. Appalling damp, itll set my blood pressure sky high. Did you even think about that?
Emily didnt answer. For the first time in years, the urge to defend herself simply dropped away, replaced by an unexpected, quiet resistance.
And the journey? Hours on some rattling train. My back wouldnt last a minute, Anne sniffed, sitting down opposite, folding her arms. Unlike Mrs. Bailey next doorher Claire might be a wild one, and her husbands utterly useless, always at the pub, but at least she never leaves her mum. Pops in every day, with groceries or just for a natter.
Emily noticed the soft lines creasing her mothers lips, the roots of grey peeking through her hair dye, the hands swollen with veinsthose same hands that once plaited her hair for school, those lips that sang lullabies. What had become of all that?
Are you even listening to me?
I am, Mum, Emily muttered.
Doesnt seem like it. Sitting there like a statue. Im trying to talk sense into you.
Anne launched into a fresh list: how spa rooms were cramped these days, how noisy some guests could be, how the young, clueless doctors did nothing but dish out pills. Emily nodded in all the right places, but inside her emptiness grew.
The clock marked off the minutesan hour, then another half. Annes complaints shifted from the hotel to old grievances: lonely evenings, rare phone calls, talk of a daughter gone astray.
Do you even realise what its like for me, all alone here? Anne lifted her chin. You want to pack me off so you can get on with your own life, dont you?
Mum, its a gift.
A gift! Annes hands flew up. A proper gift is meant to bring joy, not this. You did it to make yourself feel better! Send your mother away and get on with your peace and quiet, is that it?
Emily stood up slowly, legs still wobbly, but gripping the envelope tightly.
Youre right, Mum. Youd be uncomfortable there. Ill get a refund.
Anne froze, surprise flickering across her face, like a general whod prepped for battle and watched her enemy suddenly surrender.
What do you mean, youll refund it?
I mean Ill get my money back. Youre right, I didnt think it through.
Emily, put that envelope back.
Why? You dont want to go.
I didnt say I didnt! I said you should have asked! Annes cheeks flushed, voice growing shrill. You always just do as you please and then act surprised that Im upset!
Emily pressed the envelope to her chest and headed for the hallway. Her heart thudded in her throat, but a fresh resolve steadied her steps.
Where are you going? Emily! Im talking to you!
Mum, Im tired.
Shes tired! Anne stormed after her, grabbing Emilys arm. I gave my life for you! We went without, your father walked out and I raised you on my own, and this is my reward?
Emily turned, taking in her mothers trembling, furious lips, her pale, drawn face.
You said yourself you didnt want to go.
I said you didnt ask me!
Fine. Im asking. Mum, do you want to go to Bath?
Anne spluttered with indignation.
Are you mocking me? Are you trying to drive me to distraction? Heartlessyoure a heartless machine! Put it back. Ill think about it.
Emily gently pried free her arm. She still held tight to the envelope.
Ill ring you tomorrow, Mum.
She closed the door before Anne could reply. Annes curses trailed after her, muffled through the woodaccusations of ingratitude, wasted youth, warnings she would regret this. Emily didnt pause, didnt look back, letting her feet carry her down the stairs, past the battered letterboxes and disinterested neighbours.
Outside, a light rain had begun to fall. Emily turned her face to the drops, breathing in the scent of damp pavement, standing there for several minutes as pedestrians stepped round her, one clicking their tongue in annoyance. She didnt care. The envelope was still in her hand, and for a wild moment, Emily wondered whether she might go herself. Bath, the columns, Roman baths, no reproach for breakfast choices
She wandered aimlessly until reaching the window of a small café on the corner, warm lamplight falling on neat tables, vases of fresh flowers, couples dining in peace. Emily stepped inside.
Good evening, the waiter greeted her warmly. Table for one?
Yes, Emily replied, surprised by how weightless the word felt.
She chose a table by the wall, away from chatter. She smoothed the napkin on her knees, scanned the menu. Her eyes fell upon the most expensive puddinga pear tart with caramel and salted fudge. And a glass of full-bodied red wine.
Mum would call it extravagancemoney thrown down the drain. Emily pictured her pursed lips and judgemental stare, the endless when I was your age and made her order.
The wine was rich, faintly astringent on her tongue. Emily leaned back in her chair. An unfamiliar feeling unfurled inside herlightness where there used to be only lead. She thought of the childhood fear of earning less than an A and the week-long silences that followed, of choosing accountancy over literature at university because words werent proper work, of three silent years with Mark, whom shed loved and left because her mother called him hopeless.
The tart melted like a secret on her tongue. Emily realised she couldnt remember the last time she did something simply because she wanted to. Not for Mums approval, not for a stingy well done, just for herself.
Her mobile vibrated inside her bag. Again. And again. Emily glancedseven missed calls from Mum, three voicemailsthen switched it off.
She finished her dessert and wine, left a generous tipjust becauseand stepped out into the night. The rain had passed. Above, the sky cleared, opening to the first stars.
Emily thought, that hardest of all stepsshed already taken. She finally chose herself over someone elses expectation.
