Emma knows exactly how to wrap cabbage rolls so they keep their shape, and she knows the quickest route to the airport even at rush hour. She can draft a complaint to the housing board that gets acted on immediately, and the taps in her flat never leak while the upstairs neighbours tiptoe away after one of her talks.
Everything is expected of Emma. She has a daughter, Grace.
When Grace turns six, Emma launches Operation Best School. She builds an Excel sheet, entering rankings, reviews, teacher qualifications and whether the canteen is under renovation. She personally tours twelve primary schools, chatting with each deputy head and scanning the playgrounds with a critical eye. She checks the bus routes to be sure that by Year Five Grace will be able to get home unaided.
The winner is St.Marys Academy, which offers an allround programme. The teachers are experts, the headmaster is a charismatic leader who secures sponsors for the latest equipment. After lessons the pupils stage French plays and play chess.
Emma dresses Grace for the first school assembly. The dress is modest, checked, with a silk bow in a soft skyblue that matches Graces eyes. The bouquet is made of fluffy white asters, no gaudy gladioli. Grace lets herself be dressed, then, as they step out of the hallway, she brushes the freshly painted gate with her hand. A long blue stripe of paint runs across the flawless dress.
Emma never raises her voice.
Her own mother used to shout until she was hoarse, and Emma swore she would never do the same. She only squeezes Graces hand hard enough to make her wince, then leads her back to change into a plain grey dress. They rush into the assembly as the last, outofbreath pair. In the photo session Graces hair is a mess and the asters droop.
From that moment a quiet battle begins. Emma builds an impeccable defence line, and Grace always finds a crack.
Grace hands in a failing maths test just before the trustees meeting, chaired by Emma. Emma had organised a class trip to York and secured free swimclub passes for the gifted youngsters. Now the poor grade lands on the agendashame.
In another version, Grace is a quiet child who spends every spare minute sketching in her notebook. When Emma suggests she make a friend for instance, Lucy, the outgoing daughter of a colleague Grace just shakes her head and buries herself in the sketchbook.
Why, sweetheart? Emma coos, voice sweet as syrup. Its more fun together! Ill buy you a yummy cake or bake your favourite apple crumble
No, thanks, Grace says stubbornly.
Emma still invites Lucy over, laying out a tray of mini sandwiches and hot cocoa. Lucy, in a bright dress, chatter about the latest teen fashion trends. Grace sits in the corner on the sofa, nose deep in her sketchbook, drawing. Emmas attempts to draw her into conversation fall flat. When Emma reaches for the notebook, Grace looks up, her eyes full of silent reproach, and Emma backs off.
Lucy, fed up with talking to herself, politely says, I must be going, Aunt Emma. Thanks, and leaves without glancing at Grace. Emma watches her daughter hide behind the sketchbook like a shield and, for the first time, feels a hatred for art.
Soon a new pupil, Chloe, arrives a rowdy, averagegrade girl from a tough background. Her energy erupts in ways like loosening a physics teachers chair leg or painting philosophical graffiti in the toilet, such as Plato is a friend, but truth is dearer.
One evening at dinner Grace says calmly, Mum, theyre calling you into the school tomorrow.
Emma doesnt chase details. She spends the whole night sipping valerian, and the next morning, with a stonecold face, she walks into the headteachers office. It turns out the teachers, hoping that quiet Grace will calm the boisterous Chloe, have seated them together. It works at first, then chaos erupts. Someone swaps every pen for disappearingink pens. Someone, pretending to be the deputy head, texts the PE teacher that the lesson is cancelled due to an unscheduled healthinspection.
They catch Chloe trying to paint a Kant quote on the sports hall wall. She copies it from a slip of paper on which Graces neat handwriting reads, Character is the ability to act on principles. Chloe, of course, has never read Kant.
This is slander, Emma says icily. You have no proof. Ive done a lot for this academy, and you speak to me like that.
Of course, MrsEmma, the headteacher murmurs conspiratorially. We did seat them together. But Chloe is a wild child to joke with disappearing ink shed need a wild imagination.
Emma leaves the office, plucking Grace from chemistry under the pretext of a dentist visit.
They walk in silence. In the middle of a quiet street Emma suddenly stops, turns Grace toward her, and sees not remorse in her daughters eyes but a calm, cold resolve.
What do you want? Emma asks.
Never invite Lucy to my house again, Grace says flatly. Dont invite anyone.
Emma nods wordlessly.
The school incident is swept under the rug, and Chloe is soon transferred elsewhere.
In YearEight Emma enrolls Grace in an art college. Developing an eye for beauty, she tells herself, and socialising. Grace protests, but Emma, heart heavy, retorts, You cant refuse something youve never tried.
Grace, the chairmans daughter, is immediately placed in the senior painting group. Then something odd happens. Grace, whose sketches once burst with life, starts producing dull, technically flawless but soulless stilllifes. She is gradually moved to the junior group and eventually relegated to repetitive shading exercises. The climax of her career becomes a monthlong assignment to redraw a plaster cube under different lighting.
Emma attends every student exhibition, where Graces modest works hang in the farthest corner.
In YearEleven Emma, recalling her Herculean effort to pick a school, prepares to repeat the feat with universities. She compiles a detailed labourmarket analysis, prospects and entry scores. On a silvered tray she presents Grace with a list of five economics and law courses.
She then learns that all her work has been in vain. Grace has been accepted to a Bachelor of Animation at the London Academy of Arts on a full scholarship.
Darling, are you sure about this? Emmas voice trembles, while inside a storm of panic rages.
Absolutely, Mum, Grace replies, her eyes a steady, clear blue.
They drive to London. Emma sits in the train carriage with a pamphlet of consolation economics schools, ready to catch a sobbing daughter and steer her toward a stable future.
Grace emerges from the lecture hall with the same unruffled expression.
Looks fine. Lets grab a pizza, she says.
Emma cant believe it, but when the results are posted Graces name appears among the successful candidates.
Why? Emma cant hold back. All those years at the art school those endless cubes What for? You had talent!
I had, Grace admits.
Then why? Emma nearly shouts.
Because it wasnt what I needed, Grace says, now seventeen. It was what you needed.
Emmas legs give way and she collapses onto the nearest bench.
Beside her sits her daughter talented, stubborn, admitted to the countrys top university against all odds. For the first time Emma realises she never truly raised Grace; she tried to mould her, to write a predictable, tidy road for her life. Grace has always been alive, unpredictable, and adept at slipping past her mothers pressure. Emma understands she has lost this quiet war. For the first time she has no plan for tomorrow and she has no idea what to do next.
