Listen, love, can you imagine if I got into Oxford? Their linguistics department is topnotch; Ive read on forums that graduates end up at the UN, even in embassies
Irene snapped the carrots from the chopping board and stared at her daughter as if shed just suggested dancing on the kitchen table.
Emmeline, what are you talking about? Oxford? she snorted, returning to the salad. Where are you going with that? There are clever folks aplenty there. Get your feet on the ground! Youll come crawling back, and a spot at a decent university will already be taken.
But my marks
Marks, marks. Irene waved the knife. Be grateful theres somewhere to go. Youll be right beside me, no need to scramble in other peoples corners.
Emmeline fell silent, staring out the window. Her mother had been warning her not to dream for years. Shed checked her Alevel results in the privacy of her room, door locked with a latch. Ninetyfour in English Literature, ninetyone in Modern Languages, eightynine in History.
She read the numbers three times, refusing to believe them. Then she leaned back on the pillow, eyes fixed on a crack in the ceiling that looked like a map of an unknown land. Her mind felt oddly empty and echoing all at once. She was one of the best leavers in the district; with scores like that, any university would welcome her.
Any university
That night she stayed glued to university websites until three in the morning, scrolling through course details, reading reviews, comparing cutoff grades. When she landed on Oxfords page, with its historic stone façade and a description of the modern languages faculty, something clicked inside her, like a lock finally turning.
This is it. This is where I belong, she whispered to herself.
Her mother, however, dismissed the idea outright.
Dont even think about it! her mother shrieked. Oxford? Do you expect me to stay here alone?
Irene paced the kitchen, gripping the edge of the table, then the back of a chair.
Mom, Im not abandoning you
Youre abandoning! Traitor! I raised you, gave you my life, and you?
The drama replayed daily.
Emmeline stopped sleeping properly. Dark circles settled under her eyes, her appetite vanished. She drifted around the flat like a shadow, trying to avoid her mothers gaze, but the twobed flat was too cramped to hide.
Aunt Martha, her mothers younger sister, said when she stopped by for the weekend, listen, the girl is bright. Let her go, let her study. Its her future!
My future is to stay here alone?!
Youre fortythree, youve still got life ahead. Emmeline isnt your caretaker! She has her own life, Martha snapped, then softened. Enough, Irene, let the girl spread her wings. Youll end up biting your own elbows later for not giving her a chance.
Their frail grandmother, seated in the corner, nodded slowly. Irene, let her go. Youll only regret it later.
Irene ignored them. A plan took shape in her mind. A few days later Emmeline rummaged through every drawer, every cupboard. Her passport, birth certificate, and school certificates vanished.
Mum! Where are my documents?
Irene, lounging in front of the telly with a triumphant grin, replied, Where you cant reach them. I wont sign anything, understand? Youre seventeen; without my permission you go nowhere.
Emmeline slumped into a chair, thoughts racing. The admission deadline was a week away, and she had neither papers nor her mothers consent.
She called the university; a polite voice explained that undereighteen applicants need a legal guardians written consentno exceptions.
She dialed a legal helpline; the adviser confirmed that until she turned eighteen, her mother could dictate her life.
Aunt Martha tried twice more to persuade her sister, but Irene clung to her daughter as if her own life depended on it.
Three days before the deadline, Emmeline gave up. She and her mother drove to the local collegea bleak building on the towns edge, its plaster peeling like stale cheese, the signs letters crooked.
The admissions office smelled of dust and hopelessness. A woman behind the desk took the forms without looking up, muttering about timetables.
Emmeline stepped out onto the cobbles, staring at the grey pavement. Inside, she felt hollow, burnt out.
See? Perfect! her mother beamed. Youll stay with me. No need to go anywhere. I told you theres no point in showing off.
The first months of study turned into a peculiar torture. Lecturers read from yellowed notes from two decades ago; students stared at their phones, never lifting their heads; the firstfloor restroom lock hadnt worked in years, rumors said five.
Emmeline forced herself to attend. Soon she began skipping.
Where have you gone? asked Lucy, the only classmate she ever exchanged a few words with, catching up with her in the hallway.
To the library, Emmeline replied.
It was true. The town library became her refuge. She spent hours there, surrounded by textbooks on grammar, phonetics, cultural studies. She prepared for something she couldnt yet name.
Her eighteenth birthday fell on a bleak November Tuesday. Her mother baked a cake and invited the nextdoor neighbour. Emmeline sat for the obligatory hour, blew out the candles, ate a slice, and retreated to her room.
The next morning she marched to the deans office.
A voluntary withdrawal form, she placed on the desk.
The secretary raised an eyebrow but said nothing; shed seen worse.
At home, Emmeline retrieved the hidden documents from behind the wardrobeher mother had returned them right after she enrolled. Passport, school certificate, birth certificateall intact.
What are you doing with that? her mothers voice boomed.
Emmeline turned. Irene stood frozen in the doorway.
Im leaving. To Oxford.
What? Again youre doing what you want! I forbid you!
Im eighteen now. You no longer have the right to dictate my life!
Irene flushed with rage.
You ungrateful child! After everything Ive done for you
Ill call when Ive got a job, Emmeline zipped up her bag.
She walked out of the flat, leaving her cage behind.
Aunt Martha was waiting at the bus station.
Here, she handed Emmeline an envelope. I set this aside. Itll get you through the first weeks.
Emmeline tried to protest, but Martha waved her hand.
Dont talk. Youve earned this. She hugged her niece tightly, squeezing until it creaked. Dont give up, alright? Whatever happens, dont give up.
The Oxford coach left at six in the morning. Emmeline watched the rows of grey terraces in her hometown dissolve into the morning mist. She didnt cry. No tears fell, just a strange ringing feeling, as if she could finally breathe fully.
Her new flat in the university hall was tinya bed, a desk, a chair, and nothing more. She found a job three days later as a waitress in a café. Twelvehour shifts left her legs buzzing by night, and the smell of overfried onions seemed to cling to her hair forever. The wages barely covered the room, food, andmost importantlyher textbooks.
The year passed in a strange, strained rhythm. Mornings were for sleeping in, afternoons and evenings for work, nights for notes, tests, listening exercises. She lived on the edge of hungerliterally. She ate leftovers from the café kitchen for lunch, tea with a slice of bread for dinner. She dropped six kilograms. Once she nearly fainted in the dining room; the manager sent her home and told her to eat properly.
But Emmeline kept moving forward. She had a dream, and she couldnt surrender.
In the summer she reapplied to the same university, the same faculty. The entry threshold was high, but her grades were higher still.
The lists went up in August. Emmeline stood before the notice board, scanning for her surname, heart thudding in her throat.
She found it.
A funded place.
She sank onto the steps of the old stone building, its arched ceilings and stainedglass windows casting coloured light. People passed by, some glanced back, but she didnt care.
Shed done it.
Five years flew by like one long, intense day. She never returned to her hometown, ignored her mothers pleas to spend New Years or her birthday there.
Irene called less and less. Their conversations began with complaints and ended in accusations. Emmeline listened, nodded, and replied, Right, mum. I understand. Bye.
She turned back to her life.
In June she received her honours degree. She stepped out of the university building, diploma clutched in her hands, and stopped by the riverbank.
A job offer already waited in her mailboxa multinational translation firm, a salary shed never dared to imagine.
Her phone buzzed. Her mother.
Emmeline, when are you coming back? I have.
Mum, she cut in, gently but firmly. I just got my degree. I have a job in Oxford. Im not coming back.
A pause, then a sob.
Youve abandoned me! I knew it! Youre ungrateful
Goodbye, mum. Ill call in a few months.
She hung up and looked at the grey water, its surface catching the light. In the distance a riverboat hummed.
Emmeline smiled to herself, quietly. She hadnt let anyone break her. Shed achieved what she set out to do.
