**A Trip to the Seaside**
“Emily, I won’t allow it, do you hear me? You’re only eighteen. You don’t understand—” Charlotte kept raising her voice. She and her daughter had been arguing for hours.
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. Everyone’s going, and as usual, I’m the one who can’t,” Emily insisted stubbornly.
“Everyone? Like your friend Sophie? Her mum lets her do God knows what—” Charlotte cut herself off, realising she’d gone too far. “Listen, love—”
“And did *you* listen when I said I didn’t want anything to do with Richard? Oh, right, a child’s opinion doesn’t matter. You didn’t listen, did as you pleased, and said you wanted to be happy. Well? Are you happy, Mum? I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult, and I want to be happy too. I’m going, whether you like it or not. I don’t need your money, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Emily’s eyes gleamed with desperate tears.
“I *do* want you to be happy—truly. But you could make a mistake you’ll regret forever. Just think, Emily. You’ll be completely dependent on James over there. Do you even *know* him? You’ve only just met. There’ll be no one around to help—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t come back with a baby,” Emily scoffed.
“We’re not hearing each other.” Charlotte sank onto the sofa, exhausted.
She was tired of justifying herself. Her husband had left her with three-year-old Emily, child support, and disappeared. When she met Richard, she never expected to love or trust a man again. He’d spent years trying to be a father to Emily, trying to be her friend. Yet Emily never accepted him.
Charlotte remembered how her daughter had bristled when Richard first visited. After he left, Emily asked, “Is he moving in with us?”
“Yes. Are you against it?”
“Would it matter if I was? You’ll do what you want anyway,” twelve-year-old Emily huffed.
Charlotte had tried to explain that Richard was kind, that she’d understand soon enough.
“You just don’t know him yet. You’ll see—you’ll like him.”
“Your daughter’s just jealous,” a friend had advised. “Don’t let her call the shots. Before you know it, she’ll grow up, get married, and you’ll be alone. A man like Richard doesn’t come around often. Don’t make this a choice between him and Emily. Give it time—things will settle.”
Charlotte had tried not to neglect her daughter, but she hadn’t done well. She was drawn to Richard, while Emily constantly demanded attention. Charlotte felt torn in two. When Emily realised her mother no longer belonged entirely to her, she distanced herself. And now, here they were—unable to hear each other.
Now Emily was punishing her. James was polite, well-mannered, from a good family. Charlotte had nothing against him. But letting her daughter go to the seaside with him?
When a young man meets a girl’s parents, he’s always on his best behaviour. But who was he *really*? You only see the tip of the iceberg—what lay beneath the polished surface?
Perhaps parents of sons had it easier. Charlotte only had Emily. They’d never really been apart. And now she wanted to go to the coast with a boyfriend. Of course there’d be wine, intimacy… Charlotte had raised her alone, fussed over her. Naturally, she struggled to accept that her little girl was grown, with a boyfriend and her own life.
But she couldn’t keep her on a leash. Richard agreed—she needed freedom. Emily was smart; she’d figure things out. When Charlotte told him he wouldn’t have let his own daughter go, Richard had flared up but stayed silent, not arguing. Of course he wouldn’t have. She was grateful he didn’t fan the flames, stepping back to let mother and daughter resolve it themselves.
Well, she’d have to resign herself and hope for the best.
Maybe she should’ve left Richard, sacrificed herself for Emily? But how could she forget her own heart when she was only in her thirties, still longing for love and happiness?
Now it was her daughter who wanted happiness—who refused to listen. What was she to do? It was easy to judge and advise when it was someone else’s child, but when it was your own, logic drowned in maternal love and fear. Every mother wanted to shield her daughter from mistakes. But was *that* the real mistake?
With a weary sigh, Charlotte went to Emily’s room. Her daughter sat cross-legged on the bed, glued to her phone. “Complaining to James,” she guessed.
“I’m tired of fighting you. Of *course* I’m scared for you—I don’t want you making mistakes. You’re only eighteen… Fine. Go. Just promise you’ll call, and you won’t turn off your phone.”
Emily looked up, startled. Clearly, she hadn’t expected surrender.
“Alright,” she said.
*She’d have hugged me before, called me ‘Mum.’ Now she acts like she’s doing me a favour.* Charlotte wanted to say more but held back, stepping out silently. *Let her go. At least we’re not parting as enemies.*
In the kitchen, she tried to steady herself.
“Can I take the blue suitcase?” Emily peered in.
“Of course. When are you leaving?”
“Tonight, like I said.”
Right—tonight. How quickly it had come. Charlotte wasn’t used to the idea of letting her go. *God, why am I just sitting here—* She jumped up, grabbed some savings, and handed them to Emily.
“Take this. Keep it to yourself—don’t tell James. If you want to come home, you can buy a ticket anytime.”
“Thanks.” Emily took the money, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. “James is picking me up. Please don’t make a scene when I leave, okay?”
Charlotte nodded and left. *At least we’re not enemies anymore.*
“I thought there’d be drama, but it’s quiet. You’re letting her go?” Richard walked in. Charlotte hugged him tightly.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Oh, Rich, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I’m so uneasy.”
“Relax. She’ll be fine. She’s a smart girl.”
James arrived at half past ten.
“You’re responsible for her. Call me, understand?” Charlotte fought back tears. She hadn’t wanted to let go. For a second, she saw doubt flicker in Emily’s eyes—then it vanished.
“I’m ready,” Emily said, cutting the farewell short. James grabbed the suitcase.
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back safe and sound.”
When the door closed, Charlotte rushed to the kitchen window. Richard rested his hands on her shoulders.
“They’ve got a taxi. God, keep her safe…”
“Let’s have some tea,” Richard suggested.
***
In the taxi, James slung an arm around Emily, pulling her close to kiss her.
“Stop it!” She shoved him away, shooting a glance at the driver.
James straightened but kept his arm around her.
Maybe she’d been wrong to argue with Mum? She could still turn back… But then the taxi stopped, and Sophie climbed in with her boyfriend, Jake. Laughter filled the car, and Emily’s doubt vanished. In a few hours, they’d be in Brighton, at the seaside…
They booked two hotel rooms. Emily had assumed they’d pair off, but she was still nervous. As soon as they were alone, James pulled her toward the bed.
“I thought we were here for the sea—” she began, but his touches made her forget. The sea could wait…
Later, they ate at a café. The boys and Sophie ordered beer; Emily refused. The heat made her eager to dive into the water.
The days flew by. Emily tanned, her skin smooth and glowing. She called or texted Charlotte—*”The sea’s warm as milk. We’re on the beach all day. Don’t worry. Love you!”*—and sent photos where she looked genuinely happy. For a while, that soothed Charlotte.
One day, the boys rented a boat, announcing it at lunch.
“Really? We’ll go out to sea? Maybe see dolphins? Amazing!” Emily beamed.
But at the harbour, the “boat” was a dinghy, owned by a wiry, sun-bronzed local. When they boarded, bottles clinked in Jake’s backpack.
“Are you drinking *again*?” Emily frowned.
“Relax, it’s just beer,” James said for Jake.
Sophie shed her sundress, stretching on the bow. The boys cracked open beers.
“Did you even bring snacks?” Emily asked.
“Who needs snacks? There’s hardly enough to drink!”
The owner ignored them, focused on his radioAs the boat swayed beneath the fading sun, Emily clutched the rail, realizing too late that the freedom she’d fought for wasn’t at all what she’d imagined.
