I gave birth to you, I did.
Youre nothing but a lazy layabout! Michaels voice boomed through the cramped council flat, reverberating down the narrow hallway. You leech off me, spend my wages, and you cant even wash a dish!
Margaret curled up on the sofa, wiping tears from the back of her hand. Smudged makeup streaked her cheeks, turning her face into a pitiful mask.
Im fed up too! You have no idea how hard it is for a woman to keep a household going!
What household? There isnt one here! Michael flung a filthy plate onto the floor. The shards scattered like a fan across the linoleum. Its a dump everywhere! Im slaving at the factory, coming home to a pigsty!
Fourteenyearold Lucy pressed her back against the wall of her tiny bedroom, holding her breath. These fights broke out almost every night, yet she could never get used to them.
You dont love me! Youre always picking at me! her mothers voice cracked into a hysterical shriek. Never loved you! I married you out of pity!
Of course not, you never loved your own laziness! Other wives work, raise children, and you? You stare at the telly from dawn till dusk!
Lucy covered her ears with her palms, but the words still seeped through, etching dirty marks on her mind. She loathed those eveningsthe helpless wailing of her mother, the furious roar of her father, and the shame she felt for being unable to change anything.
I cant take this any longer! Michael roared, and something heavy thumped onto the floor. Enough! Im tired of being the milkcow for both of you!
She heard her fathers footsteps retreating to the bedroom, the squeak of the wardrobe door, then a long silence broken only by her mothers sobs. Lucy eased the bedroom door open and peeked into the hallway.
Michael hauled an old sports bag, stuffed with his belongings, from the bedroom. His face was flushed, veins pulsing on his cheeks. He didnt even glance at his daughter as he passed.
Where are you going? Margaret leapt from the sofa, smearing fresh makeup across her face. Mike, wait!
Ive had enough. Im leaving!
You cant! We have a child!
Elsie stays with you. Deal with the problems yourself. Maybe thatll finally make you work!
He slammed the door shut with a deafening bang. Margaret collapsed onto the hallway floor, wailing in helplessness. Lucy rushed to her, dropping to her knees.
Mum, calm down
Hes abandoned us! Margaret clutched Lucys shoulders, her face pressed to her daughters chest. Can you imagine? To ditch his wife and child?
Lucy ran her fingers through her mothers tangled hair, swallowing her own rising tears. Hed simply walked out, leaving them in that stale, damp flat. Lucy hugged her mother tighter, and for a moment the man seemed a monster beyond redemption.
Years slipped by faster than Lucy could have guessed fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. With each passing year the veil of childhood ignorance lifted, revealing the harsh truth that had always lingered.
Margaret never found work. She rose at noon, brewed a cup of tea, planted herself in front of the television and sat there until late. When Lucy came home from school, the flat was a mess: dishes piled in the sink, dust coating the furniture, laundry left unwashed.
Mum, why dont you even wash the dishes?
Im tired. My head hurts.
Youve been sitting at home all day!
Youll keep telling me what to do? Margaret snapped, her lips pulling tight. Im your mother!
Lucy learned to keep quiet. She learned to come home and jump straight into household chorescooking, cleaning, laundry. On weekends she started handing out flyers at the railway station, earning three pounds a shift. Later she picked up an evening job as a waitress in a café.
The money went to food, council tax, and the bare essentials. Margaret would reach for the next bundle of notes, frowning if the sum seemed insufficient.
You need to earn more, Elsie. Were short of cash.
Mum, Im still studying. I work fifteen hours a week.
So what? I was married at your age.
Lucy bit her tongue hard. Married to a man who provided while she lay on the sofa.
After school she enrolled in a parttime college coursefulltime was beyond her means. She had to work even harder. She moved to a restaurant that tipped better. Her legs ached after each shift, her back throbbed, yet she pressed on. What else could she do?
Make something decent for dinner, Margaret said, eyes glued to another soap opera. Im sick of your noodles.
Mum, Im off to work in half an hour.
Youll manage. I sit here all day, at least treat me to a proper meal.
At half past five in the morning Lucy boiled a pot of soup before her shift, leaving it simmering on the hob. Margaret reheated it at lunch, then settled back before the telly, never washing the plate.
One day at work Lucy chatted with the restaurant manager, Olga.
Hey, would your mother consider a cleaning job? Weve got a vacancy, decent pay, flexible hours.
Lucys eyes widened.
Seriously? That would be great!
Give me her number, Ill call.
At home Lucy mentioned the possibility cautiously. Margaret grimaced as if her daughter had brought home rotten fish.
A cleaner? Are you serious?
Mum, its an honest job. Good pay, handy schedule.
I wont be mopping floors!
But were barely getting by! If you helped
Im exhausted at home! Margarets voice rose to a shrill pitch. Its hard to get out of bed! I have hypertension!
Thats because you never move!
How dare you speak to me that way? I gave birth to you, you
Lucy clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms. I gave birth to youwas that now her excuse for everything?
Olga eventually persuaded Margaret to attend an interview. Under Lucys fierce stare, Margaret agreed. She worked a week, returning with a sour expression, grimacing at any mention of duties.
Its a nightmare! Filth everywhere! They expect me to clean it all!
Mum, youre a cleaner. Thats the point.
It hurts my back, my legs swell.
On the eighth day Margaret simply didnt show up. She turned off her alarm and slept until noon. Olga later called to apologise for Margarets dismissal.
Sorry, Elsie. I thought
Its fine. Thanks for trying.
Lucy found another spot for her motheras a stallseller at a local greengrocers. The managers friend needed a replacement. Margaret took it, but after three days she handed in a resignation, complaining about the cold, the customers, the tiny wages.
Mum, you didnt even get your first paycheck!
I cant! I cant, you hear? You dont understand how hard this is! My blood pressure!
A wave of fury slammed over Lucy; she stepped onto the balcony and stood there for twenty minutes, breathing the chilled air.
Dont you understand? I work twelvehour days, study, keep the whole house afloat. And you still dont get it?
The arguments never ceased. Margaret demanded more money, better food, new clothes. Lucy tried to explain she simply couldnt earn more.
Then find another job!
Mum, I have my studies! I only get five hours of sleep!
I didnt get much sleep in my youth either.
You married young! And now you lounge on the sofa all day!
How dare you
Margaret hurled plates, cups, the remote at her daughter. Lucy dodged, feeling a numb indifference grow inside. She was twenty, barely twenty, yet already felt like a beast of burden pulling an impossible load.
One evening, after an especially brutal shift, Lucy came home to find her mother surrounded by empty supermarket bags.
You bought a cake? Lucy stared at the massive cream confection on the table.
Yes, felt like something sweet.
For fifteen pounds? Mum, we could have scraped by a whole week with that.
Its my money! You gave it to me!
I gave it for food! Proper food! Grains, meat!
Dont shout at me! Margaret crossed her arms, chin thrust forward. Im tired of your complaints! Work more if you need money!
Lucy froze, a ringing filled her ears.
Enough, she forced out between clenched teeth.
What? Margaret snapped, eyes like daggers.
I wont give you another penny. I need it for my bus fare, my college, for
For yourself, you selfish brat! I raised you, sacrificed everything, and you?
You didnt sacrifice anything! You just lay there while Father toiled! While he left! And you keep lying!
Lucy turned and fled to her room, slamming the door. She sat on the bed, trembling hands pulling out her phone. She opened job boards for other towns, scanning numbers, addresses, conditions. And then it hit hershe could leave. Just pack and go.
The next two weeks dissolved in a fog. Lucy gathered documents, looked for a cheap room, arranged remote callcentre work in a neighbouring county. Margaret, engrossed in yet another drama, didnt notice an inch of change.
On the final night she barely slept. She packed the essentialsclothes, papers, laptopinto a bag, and left a note on the kitchen table: I now understand why Father left. It was because of you. My turn is next.
Margaret was still asleep when Lucy gently closed the flats door behind her. She walked to the bus station, feeling both a traitor and a freed captive.
The first call came three hours later.
Where are you? Where have you gone? Margarets voice trembled.
Ive left, Mum.
How? Where?
To another town. I need to start a life of my own.
You have no right! Im your mother! You must support me!
No. I dont have to.
Come back at once! You cant abandon me!
I can.
Youre just like your father! Selfish!
Lucy hung up, blocked the number, slipped on her headphones and cranked up the music to drown the voices in her head.
The new town greeted her with rain and a chill wind. The rented room in a student hall was tinybed, desk, wardrobebut it was hers.
She lay on the bed, thinking of the father who had fled when she was fourteen, and of a mother who had turned her into a dairy cow. Forgive them? No. She could not forgive a father who abandoned them both, nor a mother who used her as a standin for a vanished provider.
Now she had no family, but she owned something else: the right to live as she chose, the right not to feel guilty for every penny she spent on herself.
Lucy wiped the damp cheeks, opened her laptop. Tomorrow marked the start of a new lifehard, frightening, full of unknowns, but finally free.
