Boarding School for My Daughter

Boarding School for My Daughter

Emma had married Richard four years ago, and their union was exactly what people called a safe harbour. After all the humiliations and sleepless nights with her first husband, Jack, whod always vanish to the pub and return stinking of beer, she truly believed shed finally clawed her way out of the swamp and onto solid ground.

Richard was a solid, reticent man, the type who was never rattled. He managed a small department and kept their home in immaculate orderno clutter, no disruptions to the precious routine.

When they first met, Emma had been honest: she told him about her twelve-year-old daughter, Holly. But Holly had stayed on with her father and his new wife, and so the subject receded, one of those distant facts not intruding into the main story. Richard knew Emma had a child, but the girl never needed his money, never queued for his shower in the morning, never sat at their table in the evenings, so he accepted her as no more than an artefact of Emmas history.

Life slipped by. Theyd taken out a mortgage on a poky little flatone living room, a bedroom, and an open-plan kitchenand called it, rather proudly, our nest. Emma worked as a receptionist at the local dental practice, Richard bore the brunt of their finances, but Emma always paid her share of the mortgage, granting her the sweet illusion of equality. Theyd even begun discussing a child of their own, to bind them closer.

All those plans unravelled on an otherwise regular Tuesday night. Emmas mobile vibrated with a message from her ex-husband Jack. Their texts were always terse and purely practicalchild maintenance, the odd school report, insurance. But this message was longer, fraught: Emma, you need to take Holly. Weve had a new baby, Jessica can barely cope, and Holly well, shes a teenager now, needs attention, and we just cant manage. I feel awful, but shes your daughter. Shed be better off with you. I cant do this anymore.

Emma blinked at the text, reading it five times, her fingers numb.

She approached Richard, who was gutting a fish in the kitchen, and held out her phone.

Richard, we have a problem, she said softly. Jack wants us to take Holly. They cant cope with her now theyve got the baby.

Richard laid down the knife, scowling in disbelief.

What do you mean, take her in? he said, wiping his hands on a tea towel. To live here?

Yes, Richard. Where else? Shes my daughtershes sixteen.

Emma. Richard straightened, and suddenly their kitchen felt as cramped as a ships hold. Listen to me carefully. I knew you had a daughter, but I never signed up to sharing my flat with someone elses nearly adult child. Shes a stranger to me. I dont want some teenager raiding the fridge, hogging the shower, turning my life upside down.

Shes not a stranger! Emmas voice shook. Shes my daughter. You knew about her when you married me

I married you, Richard interjected through gritted teeth, not your daughter. The deal was: her father had her, and that suited everyone. Now, suddenly, her dad cant be bothered and Im expected to pick up the pieces? Im sorry, Emma. I have my own plans.

What plans? Emmas anger flared. We share this mortgage! I pay my half! This isnt your flat, its ours. I have a right

A right? He let out a low, cruel laugh that hurt more than any shout. Youve the right to live here with me. If you wanted Holly with you, perhaps you shouldnt have divorced Jack in the first place?

The words struck her hard. Shed always known Richard was strict, but never had he spoken to her so coldly, as if she were an employee whod dared defy his orders.

What do you expect me to do? Emmas voice dropped to a whisper as despair crept in. Shes got nowhere else, Richard. Jack wont have her, you dont want her. Where will she go? On the streets?

Not my problem, Emma. Richard picked up the fish and resumed cleaning it, as if the matter were settled. She moves in, I move out. And youll have the mortgage all for yourself. Im not funding someone elses kid.

His words, delivered so calmly, so matter-of-factly, snatched Emmas breath from her chest. She stared at his broad back, watched his hands working with chilling assurance, then slipped from the kitchen, her world tilting beneath her feet.

She tried to reason with Jack, begging him to give her a month to sort things out, but he was adamant: We cant cope anymore. Jessicas exhausted, the baby wont sleep, Holly slams doors, blares her music. Youre her mum, she should be with you. Ive done all I can; I need some peace. Not a word of financial helpthough Emma knew his renovation business was thriving. He simply erased Holly from his life, absorbed by his new family.

Emmas hands were tied; Holly would be dropped off within a week.

Emma attempted countless right moments to broach the subject with Richardover dinner, during calm eveningsbut he was as unyielding as stone.

Look, she pleaded one night, lying beside him in the dark, voice trembling, I know its tough. But shes a good girl, Year Eleven, helpful around the flat. Shell sleep on the sofa until we figure things out. Please, Richard.

He turned, his eyes glinting in the dim light. Emma, do you even understand what its like living with someone elses teenage kid? I finish work, want peace, not some girl sprawled over the sofa, glued to her phone, leaving hair in the plughole. I want tranquility, not a bedsit.

This isnt a bedsit! Emma sat up, close to tears. Im her mum. If I turn her away, what sort of person does that make me? What would she think of me?

What would you like her to think? Richard snapped. She should know not to get in the way of her mothers life. Seems to me, these kids always expect something.

Emma buried her face in her hands and sobbed quietly, stifling herself so Richard wouldnt get angry.

Two days later, Richard presented his solution as Emma staggered in after a draining shift, waving a printed page.

Theres an option, he said, ushering her inside. Girls boarding school near the edge of town. She can get a local authority placement. Weekdays there, weekends here. You get your peace, she gets structure, I get my life.

Emma removed her coat, moving as though through water.

A boarding school? she repeated, barely recognising her own voice. You want my daughter in a boarding school? Like some orphan?

Dont be melodramatic, Richard frowned. Its a proper school. Kids from working families. Shell have meals, education, supervision. We dont fall out. Shes not on the streets, just in a civilised environment.

A civilised solution, Emma echoed, furious. Youre asking me to pack my own daughter off, so you can watch your telly in peace, so you dont have to see her hair in the bath.

Stop twisting my words. Richard tossed the paper onto the side table. Its practical for everyone. Cant afford a flat for herchecked the sums; its two-thirds your pay, so you couldnt cover the mortgage. Jacks off the hook. Soshe lives here, and I move out; or she goes to the boarding school.

Or she stays, and we remain a family, Emma said quietly.

This isnt a family, Emma, he shook his head. I told you my terms. The choice is yours.

Emma was trapped: guilt for leaving Holly with her father, terror of losing Richard, the flat, their fragile peace. Friends had no answerssome suggested forcing Richards hand, others said Holly was old enough to cope alone. Emma wanted to call Holly, but all she could think was: Come, but your stepfather doesnt want you. Or, Wait, Ill work something out. Holly never called.

Time slipped away. Jack sent a final text: If you dont have her by Friday, Ill ring Social Services and say youve abandoned her. Emma knew it was a bluff, but still, there was truth behind it: she genuinely had no idea where her sixteen-year-old daughter would go.

Three days before Friday, tensions peaked. That evening, Emma, usually so quick to back down for peaces sake, lost her composure.

Youre selfish, Richard! she screamed, standing in the kitchen, her voice quivering. You knew I had a child, you pretended you could handle it. Nowyou show your true face. You dont need me, you just need a convenient appendage for your life.

I dont need you?! Richard shot up from his chair, which clattered to the wall. Look at yourself! Youre ready to sacrifice our marriage for your daughter, whos done without you for four years? And you call me selfish! You only care now because you cant handle guilt!

Guilt? Emma cried, face twisted with pain and rage. This is about my daughtera living, breathing girl whom I loved, whom I left because I thought it best for everyone! And now Im meant to discard her again for your peace?

Oh, you left her, did you? Richard bellowed, his voice ringing out. You made your choiceyou picked me! Now you want to blame me for your mess? Clean it up yourself!

Soits the boarding school, then? Emma sobbed, tears streaking her face. Send her away like old rubbish? Make sure she knows no one wants her?

She already knows! Richard roared. Her father dumped her, her mother did too. You move her in, it wont fix a thing. Shell just cling to us. School will teach her to stand on her own feet instead of leeching off everyone!

Emma was about to reply when she heard a faint, muffled sound. She turned and saw the hallway door ajar, Hollys rucksack and fair hair visible in the gap.

Her heart lurched.

Emma rushed over and flung the door open. Holly stood in the corridor, flat against the wall, eyes brimming with tears. The key Emma had given her, for emergencies, dangled from her hand. Clearly, Holly wanted to talkor maybe just escape her fathers tension and find solace with her mum.

Holly Emma moved forward, arms outstretched, but Holly recoiled sharply.

Dont touch me, she spat. I heard it all. The boarding school. That you dont want me. That Dad doesnt want me. Youre deciding who has to take me, like Im baggage. I understand. You dont want me. Neither does Dad. Im some cast-off suitcase.

Holly, sweetheart, its not what you think, Emma stammered, but her words rang hollow even in her own ears. We were just looking for a way

A way to get rid of me, Holly cut in, tears now streaming, but she refused to wipe them; her eyes never left her mothers face. I get it. Its all right. Dont trouble yourselves. I wont be a bother.

Holly, enough, Richard entered, voice coldly authoritative, No ones kicking you out. Adults will sort things. Eavesdropping isnt admirable.

Hollys eyes blazed as she stared at him.

Youve made your minds up. Boarding school for me, so you can pretend were a family at weekends? Im not a problem to solve.

No ones saying boarding school is the only answer Emma protested, but Holly had already grabbed the front door handle.

Stay, please! Emma cried, holding her arm, desperate. Well work something out. I promise. I wont send you away.

Oh? Holly glanced at Emmas hand, then at Richard. But what about him? Hes decided. He made it clear Im not wanted. I heard everything, Mum. Every word.

Emma whirled to Richard, desperate for him to say something, anythingjust a sign he would relent, even for a short while.

Richard just looked at Holly and Emma, stone-faced, the barest flicker of irritation on his features.

Holly, he said in that infuriatingly calm teachers tone, no one is throwing you out. But youre old enough to appreciate people have their own lives. Your mother and I are building something here. You want to be a part of it, you need to respect our boundaries and our rules. The boarding school is a good solution.

Richard! Emma tried to intervene, but it was too late.

Holly yanked her hand free, stepped into the stairwell and stared at Emma for a long, cold moment.

Dont look for me, she murmured. Ill find somewhere Im not in the way.

Emma lunged after her, bolted down the stairs, but there was only the echo of hurried footsteps fading into the depths below. She rushed through the front entrance, out into the damp, sodium-lit street under the drizzle, but the estate was deserted, the tarmac shining with puddles, only last years leaves tumbling in the wind.

Holly was gone.

Holly! Emmas cry rang through the empty night, swallowed up by the maze of drab tower blocks. Come back!

No answer.

She combed the estate, checked gloomy alleyways, asked the old men loitering by the bins; they just shrugged. She dialled Hollys phone over and over, but it was switched off, or maybe the battery flat.

Back in the flat, Emma found Richard settled on the settee, the news humming out of the telly as if nothing had happened.

Youre just sitting there? she shrieked, flying at him with fists clenched. Shes gone! She ran away! Do you not understand?

Richard grabbed her wrists, holding them tight. Calm down, he said steely. Teenagers storm off all the time. Shell turn up. Kids stay with friends or bunk off for a night. No one raises an alarm unless its been twenty-four hours. Thats the law. Stop this hysterical performance.

Did you even hear her? Emma wrenched free, breathless with fear. Dont look for me! She could be anywhere. On the streets. With God knows who

What do you propose? Richard shrugged. Scour the city? Report her missing now? Police wont care till shes been gone for a day. Sit down and wait.

Wait? Emma pressed her hands to her skull. You want me to sit and wait while my sixteen-year-old dosses who-knows-where? Are you mad?

Are you? Richard replied coolly. Shouting the place down, dragging it to this. If youd only kept calm, maybe she wouldnt have left. This is on you.

Emma stared at him, unable to comprehend this stranger who shared her bed, her plans, her mortgageand now seemed monstrous in his indifference.

She flung her coat over her nightdress and disappeared into the darkness, circling every block, scanning the small park, the bus stops, popping into 24-hour shops, asking everyone if theyd seen a fair-haired girl in a denim jacket with a rucksack.

No one had.

The city was as cold and indifferent as stone.

By dawn Emma returned, shivering and tear-swollen. Richard had left for work and a note waited: Ring the boarding school. The address is on the table. Emma gazed at the slip of paper, its neat script naming a place on the outskirts of town, and something inside her inverted. She barely made it to the loo before she was violently sick, the bitterness scalding her throat.

Holly did not return that night. Nor the next. In desperation, Emma and Jack reported her missing to the police, who took it with weary indifference: Sixteen? Typical runaway, love. They always come back. Best focus on a calmer home.

Detectives went through the usual motions, but with little urgency. Sixteen-year-olds with family troublestheyd seen it all before; mostly, the kids came back after burning through their cash or patience.

But Holly didnt.

Days became a week. Emma barely ate or slept, calling everyone Holly ever mentioned, hanging posters at train stations, bus depots, in every battered bus shelter. The bright, squinting face from the photo seemed to mock her now, as did the cheerfully penned, Love you, Mum! on the back.

Richard, cool at first, grew annoyedEmma neglected work, the flat, herself, and he had to bear the burden.

How long is this going to go on? he demanded on the tenth day, as Emma sat at the table, phone in a vice grip, calling the same dead numbers over and over. If she doesnt want to come back, youll never find her.

She doesnt want to, or she cant? Emmas bloodshot eyes blazed. Maybe she cant, maybe. Words failed her; the thought was too terrifying to finish.

Oh, stop, Richard waved dismissively. Your Hollys fine. Spending time with mates. She had money, she had her phone. Shes snubbing you, and after all youId do the same, honestly. With a mum like you, tearing the roof down

He broke off as Emma stood. The look she gave made him step back involuntarily.

Get out, she whispered. Now. Please.

What? Richard blinked. Are you kicking me out of my own flat?

Its not yours, Emma deadpanned. Its ours, but I dont care anymore. I just want Holly back. Leave, Richard. I cant stand to see you or hear your voice. Just go.

Richard opened his mouth, thought better of it, and packed in silence. He glared at her a few times, but Emma just stared fixedly ahead. When the door closed behind him, she didnt react.

Emma visited the police every day, shoved them new photos, begged, pleaded, demanded. They told her: We’re working on it, love. Let us get on. She spent her holiday savings to hire a private detective. He searched for monthsstations, hostels, the digital wasteland of social mediabut every trail was cold. Either shes hiding well, or He didnt finish. Emma didnt need it said aloud.

Three months later, the police called her. Her knees buckled at the word identification, but it was just Hollys rucksack and coat, found in the cellar of a derelict house on the fringes of the city, haunt of the lost and homeless. No sign of Holly herself; no one in the area knew or would admit to seeing her.

Emma started taking tranquillisers just to survive the workday, moving through the dentists like a ghost, fake-smiling, filling forms. Richard rang now and then, trying to rekindle things, swearing hed accept Holly, promising to try again if she returned. Emma ignored him every time.

Every night, Holly haunted her dreamssometimes still a gap-toothed child at the nursery gates, other times, the silent, angry sixteen-year-old with a rucksack, glaring with betrayal, whispering: Dont look for me. Emma woke in clammy terror, pulse racing.

After half a year, Holly was listed as a national missing person. A month later, the case was suspendedno evidence, no leads. Signing the termination papers, Emma barely registered the words; what mattered had already been decided: Missing. Presumed gone.

Eight months from the night her world collapsed, Emma was rushed into hospital with stabbing pains. The surgeons removed her womb. Shed never have children again.

Lying on a hospital cot, gazing at the blank white ceiling, Emma felt something snap in hera final thread to her future gone. Shed had a daughterreal, warm, bright Holly, with serious eyes and fair hair. And shed lost her. Betrayed her. For the sake of Richard, for a shabby flat, for a fragile sense of order. Too late, she realised her true salvation was the girl in the hallway, overhearing her fate discussed as a problem, an inconvenience, someone elses child.

Now Emma had nothing: no daughter, no Richard, no second chance. Just a photograph on her bedside table, Holly grinning into the sun, her childish scrawl on the backLove you, Mum.

Sometimes, at night, Emma fancied she heard footsteps and a key in the lock, a voice calling: Mum, Im back. But there was only silence, the lonely glow of the streetlight on the empty coat stand.

She never learnt what became of Hollywhether she found her home where I wont be in the way, or slipped from the world for good. Emmas life was a limbo worse than loss: no hope, no closure, just the steady throb of guilt that would never ease.

Richard, for his part, found a new partner witout children, no complications, and they started a family of their own.