**Thursday, 12th October**
She stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching as my daughter rummaged through the fridge like a woman on a mission.
«Emma, youre back again,» I sighed, shrugging off my damp coat. The rain had followed me all the way from the high street. «If you were just going to keep turning up, you might as well not have moved out.»
Emma spun around, clutching a packet of sliced ham to her chest.
«Mum! You scared the life out of me!» she huffed, but her annoyance melted into that cheeky grin shed had since she was small. «I just popped in to see how you were.»
I set the shopping bags down on the counter and studied her. At twenty-four, she looked every bit the grown womansmart blouse, polished nailsbut there was still something helpless in her eyes, like a child whod lost her pocket money.
«Here to see me, or raid the fridge?» I kept my voice light, but the words had weight.
Emmas cheeks flushed. She looked down at her shoes, silent for a moment before blurting out, «Its justmy wages disappeared faster than I thought. Ive got a week until payday and nothing in the cupboards.»
I swallowed the urge to sigh. Shed been so desperate to prove she could manage on her own, moving into that tiny flat near the station. But who could stop her? Youth always charges ahead without counting the cost.
«No ‘I told you so’s,» she cut in, raising a hand before I could speak. «I justmiscalculated. Next month will be fine, Mum. Soon Ill be the one bringing *you* treats, ordering your grocery deliveries. Youll see!»
I shook my head. Shed always been like thiscertain that tomorrow would fix everything.
«Take what you need, love. Dont worry.»
I watched as she packed the ham, cheddar, a tub of coleslaw, and half the veg drawer into her tote. From the cupboards went tins of soup and pasta, and from the pantry, a bag of potatoes.
«That should do me!» she announced, pressing a loud kiss to my cheek. «Cheers, Mum! Youre the best.»
I walked her to the door, gave her shoulder a squeeze.
The flat fell quiet. I leaned against the wall, remembering myself at her ageworking shifts, raising a child, keeping a house running. How had I done it? Now even a trip to Tesco left me knackered.
*Where did my youth go?* I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror: fine lines, grey threading through my once-dark hair. Time had taken its toll. No regrets, but sometimes the weight of it all pressed down until I could hardly breathe.
—
A week later, I rang her. That gnawing worry wouldnt let go.
«Do you need a bit of cash? Anything I can do?» I asked the second she picked up.
Emma laughed, carefree as ever. «Mum, Ive been paid. Stop fussing! Im a big girl now.»
«Big girl, my foot,» I muttered. «Who was it last week with an empty fridge? Emma, listenwhy dont you just come home? Itd be easier.»
Silence. Then an irritated huff.
«Mum, Im *grown*. I want my own place. So what if Im still figuring it out? Ill manage. Why dont you believe in me?»
I floundered. I hadnt meant to upset herjust to help.
«Sorry, love. I only worry. Youll always be my little girl.»
The call left me hollow. I sat for ages, phone in hand, thinking. Raising her had been hard, but letting go? That was worse.
—
Three days later, I came home late from Margarets. The kitchen light was on. My heart jumped*burglars?* But no. There was Emma, elbow-deep in the fridge, demolishing a sandwich.
«Youre back early,» she said around a mouthful. «Just topping up my supplies. Paid the rent today and realised Im skint till payday. Same old story.»
She smiled, but it didnt reach her eyes. Something had shifteda new sharpness in her gaze.
«I thought you were all grown up?» I sank into a chair, tired to my bones.
Emma shrugged, stuffing yoghurts and fruit into her bag.
«I *am* grown. But youre my mum. Helping me is what youre *supposed* to do.» Her voice had a edge that made my stomach twist. «Consider it your maternal duty.»
*Duty?* When had love become an obligation?
—
The visits grew more frequent. New shoes, a phone upgrade, rent hikesalways a reason to «pop in» and strip the fridge bare.
I bit my tongue. What mother scolds her child for needing help? But each time left me emptier than the shelves. Emma stopped pretending shed come to see *me*. No «How are you, Mum?» Just in, out, and another meal gone.
—
Then came the night I found the freezer cleaned out.
Id trudged home soaked, dreaming of roasted chicken. But the freezer was a wastelandnot even a frozen pea left. Only the jar of Branston pickle sat untouched (shed always hated the stuff).
My hands shook as I dialled.
«Emma, did you take *everything*?»
«Yep!» she chirped. «Saves me keep coming back, doesnt it?»
I squeezed my eyes shut. «Ive got *nothing* for dinner»
«Mum, just nip to the shops,» she snapped. «The walkll do you good. Doctors say we need the steps. Gotta gobye!»
The dial tone buzzed in my ear. I stared at the phone, a bitter taste in my mouth. Had I become nothing but a free supermarket to her?
—
After that, the raids came like clockwork. Fortnightly, the fridge would be stripped. No explanations, no apologies.
Then, one night, the sound of breaking glass jolted me awake.
I found her on the kitchen floor, sweeping up the pickle jar shed dropped.
«Even took the Branston? You *hate* it!» My voice cracked.
Emma glared. «Oh, dont start. Just help me clean this up.»
«What are you doing here in the middle of the night?»
She stood, arms crossedmirroring my own stance when I was cross. «Ive got a key, remember? This is *my* home too. Do I need your *permission* now?»
My chest ached. «You dont visit *me*you visit the fridge. Emma, Im not made of money. I cant feed us both when you take everything!»
She slammed the fridge door. «You *said* I could take what I needed!»
«I thought itd be *once*!» The words burst out. «You treat this place like a grocery delivery service! Half the time I dont know if Ill have dinner or go to bed hungry. Thats *not* normal!»
Emma backed towards the window, stepping over glass.
«Regretting helping me now, are you? Some mother you are! Youre *supposed* to»
«Youre *twenty-four*!» I cut in. «I dont *owe* you meals! If you cant managecome home. Pay your way properly.»
Her face darkened. «I dont *want* to live with you! Im with *Liam* now. But he eats like a horse»
My blood ran cold. *Shed moved in with someone.* And never thought to tell me.
«Thats *your* life,» I said icily. «Not mine.»
«But you *have* to help! Youre my *mum*!»
«Then let *Liam* raid *his* mothers fridge!» I gripped the chair, suddenly exhausted. «Or get a second job. If two adults cant feed themselves, maybe *youre* the problem. Ive dipped into savings for this. And for what? To feed your greedy boyfriend?»
Her face blotched red. «How *dare* you! Liams brilliant! Youre just a *bad* mother! A *good* one would»
«Emma, *leave*.» My voice was hollow. «For months, all Ive been is a free meal ticket. Take whatevers left. Consider it a parting gift.»
I didnt look up as she packed the last of the bread, the eggs, the milk. The slam of the front door echoed through the flat.
I stood at the window, watching the streetlights glow. Somewhere out there, my daughter was taking the last scraps of my patience back to Liam.
«New locks tomorrow,» I whispered. «Time they learned to stand on their own feet.»
—
A month passed without a word.
Then, today, the phone rang.
