Someone Elses Ideal
Margaret burst into the room so quickly that the hem of her dressing gown billowed out like the sail on a windy day. She skidded to a stop by the door, planted her hands firmly on her hips, and glared at her granddaughter, barely hiding her disapproval. Alice was sitting at her desk, peering intently at something on her computer.
What do you think youre doing, sitting there? Margarets voice cracked like a whip. Your dance lesson starts in half an hour!
Alice raised her eyes slowly. She looked worn out, with shadows under her eyes. She tried to keep her voice steady but it wobbled a bit.
Gran, Im really not feeling well. Ive already let them know I wont be coming.
Margaret froze for a second, as if she hadnt heard right. Her lips thinned, and her nostrils flared. Then she let out a sharp sigh, barely containing her anger.
And who gave you permission? If I say youre going, then youre going! Not feeling well, is it? But you can sit at your computer for hours, cant you?!
Alices fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. She knew very well that to her grandmother, ballet wasnt just a pastimeit was a matter of principle. Regular lessons were proof of discipline, effort, keeping your word. But today, Alice truly felt dreadfulher head was spinning, her stomach hurt, and she was feeling a bit sick.
She took a deep breath, gathering herself, and replied quietly but firmly.
Im working on my history report. Its due tomorrow.
A heavy silence settled in the room. Alice met her grans eyes, hoping she might, just this once, listen to hermaybe even ask if she was alright or suggest a trip to the doctor.
But no Margaret strode across the room and, without another word, jabbed her finger at the power button of the computer, switching it off with finality. The screen went instantly black. No chance of saving her work, no way to keep going.
Alice recoiled as if struck. Her eyes went wide, flicking back and forth between the blank monitor and her gran, hoping the image would just blink back on. Her fists clenched, and her lips quivered, stung by a wave of disappointment. Two hours careful workevery sentence, every fact shed checked, every line shed crafted with caredisappeared in a heartbeat.
I hadnt saved that! Alices voice cracked, raw with real pain. Id been typing for two hours!
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked at her grandmother. She felt helpless, cornered, like a scared little animal with nowhere to run.
Margaret didnt even flinch at Alices outburst. Her expression stayed hard; her voice cut through the space like a knife.
Get your things ready. Now.
Alice dug her nails into the desk, forcing back tears. What was the point in arguing? Her gran always got her own way; feelings never came into it. Life with Margaret had become a never-ending cycle of demands, criticisms, and strict house rules. Every day, Alice felt a growing, silent frustration tinged with sadness.
All your mothers doing! Margaret went on, bitterness thick in her voice. She was always glued to a screen too! And where did that get her, eh? Where is she now?
Margaret tossed her head as if shooing away an unpleasant thought. Talking about her daughter, Helen, always stunga kind of personal defeat. Margaret had once tried being softer, gentler, and look where that had got her: her daughter had left this world early, leaving young Alice with her gran for good.
Discipline and routinethose were what mattered, Margaret always said. Shed been left on her own with a little Helen and, to give her daughter a decent life, shed worked her fingers to the bone. Day shifts blurred into evenings, overtime, never-ending paperwork and meetings. There was hardly any time for heart-to-hearts, walks in the park, or quiet evenings reading together.
Helen grew up on her own mostly. At nursery, the staff called her the invisible girlshed sit tucked in a corner for hours, lost in a book or doodling in a sketchpad, rarely joining the other kids. School was no better; teachers moaned she was always in her own world, daydreaming, lost in her thoughts.
As Helen got older, her stubborn streak shone through. She flat-out refused every sensible activity Margaret suggested. Ballet? Too much hard work, its pointless. Music lessons? I cant stand the piano and it takes up half the lounge. Drawing? Im no good and I dont care to be. Even the clubs Margaret tried putting her in, Helen would quit after a session or two, declaring the whole thing was nonsense.
Most of Helens time ended up in front of a computer. First it was games, then endless forums and group chats with strangers. Margaret tried limiting her screen time, but every talk spiralled into a rowHelen would slam the door and not come out for hours.
Shes just lazy, Margaret fumed, watching her again, hunched over her computer screen. No ambition, no drive. Just staring at that cursed box all day.
She truly didnt understand why Helen didnt want to get up and do something. A proper girl should be striving for achievementswinning competitions, earning certificates, building her future. But Helen always did the exact opposite, almost on purpose.
Helen hit eighteen and stunned Margaret with the announcement that she was getting married. Not to some up-and-coming professional, not to a high-flyer, but to an ordinary chap from the next street over who worked as a mechanic and dreamed of opening his own garage.
Margaret was furious.
Do you even know what youre doing?! shed yelled, fists clenched. Hes not husband material at all!
But Helen had just shrugged.
Im happy with him. I dont care about prospects.
Then, as if that wasnt enough, Helen dropped another bombshell: shed quit university. The very university Margaret had secured for her through countless favours and letters of recommendation.
I dont want to be an accountant, Helen said evenly. Im just not interested.
Instead, she took a job at some tiny web design company, earning a pittance, with no future worth mentioning. Margaret was so embarrassed by the companys name, she barely admitted it to anyone.
This is what happens when you show weakness, Margaret thought bitterly. I let go, and look what happened. Completely lost her.
She couldnt accept that her daughter had chosen her own path, not the one Margaret saw as rightand now it was too late to change a thing.
But thered be no such mistakes with Alice! Oh no. Margaret had decided: Alice would grow up disciplined, responsible, ambitious. No idle daydreaming, no wasting hours in front of screens. Just discipline, clear rules, and a proper future!
Alice sat up sharp, her eyes blazing. She hated hearing anyone, even her gran, talk about her mum like that. Helen wasnt just a mumshe was a role model, her pride, someone whod achieved so much against the odds.
Mum was a brilliant programmer! Alice blurted, voice shaking with emotion. She had her own project, everyone at work respected her, sheshe could have done so much more!
It all came rushing out, as though Alice had been keeping it bottled up for years. She just wanted someone to understand: her mum wasnt some odd Helen her gran spoke of so scornfully, but a gifted, determined person who took on any challenge and always finished what she started.
She wasnt to blame, Alice pressed on, fists clenched, that the taxi driver lost control and crashed! It was a freak accident, a horrible one!
Silence weighed in the room. Alices chest heaved as she glared at her gran, who stood by the window, arms crossed. Margaret turned slowly, her face cold, unfeeling.
If shed listened to me, Margaret said flatly, shed have married someone of her own standing. Wouldve stayed home to raise children. None of the rest would have happened.
Alice felt something tighten inside her. That hurt more than any shouting ever could. Her gran always brought it all back to one thing: if only Helen had done as she was told, picked the right patheverything would have been different.
You dont get it! Alice burst out, bitter tears in her voice. Mum didnt want that! She loved her job, loved making new things. She was happy when she was writing code, talking about ideas, seeing how her programs helped people!
Margaret only shook her head, as if she was listening to a child who still didnt understand the way things are.
Happiness means security, Margaret said firmly. Its knowing tomorrow will be the same as today. Youve got support, family, a home. All thisshe waved a hand at her late daughters medals and certificatesits meaningless. And your father dont even start about him.
Alice shoved her chair back, wood screeching against wood. Shed stopped listening; inside, anger and sadness tangled hot and unbearable. Words came tumbling out, like it or not:
My dads amazing! When he comes back, hell take me to live with him!
She wasnt saying it for Margarets sakeit was a lifeline, a promise to herself. In her mind sprang up the thought of her father: his warm smile, his strong hugs, that steady voice. With him, she felt safe, free from having to explain or justify what she wanted to do.
She couldnt bear another word from her gran. Alice jumped up from her desk and headed to the wardrobe, desperate to leave this flat where every corner carried reminders of arguments and stifling control. Anywhere but here, anywhere she didnt have to listen to another jibe or feel watched.
If only Dads contract wasnt for another three months! she thought while zipping up her cardigan. Why didnt he just take me with him? Although she made sure of that.
Echoes of recent, muffled conversations floated through her mind:
Let her finish school in peace! Why make it harder for her with a move?
Alice knew it had been her grans idea all alongonce again, deciding her fate. Once again, making all the choices for her.
Margaret stood in the doorway, watching Alice fuss over her things, a faint, satisfied smile on her lips. Everything was going to plan. Arguing now was a waste; Alice was already in a state, and more words would just add fuel to the fire.
As if he wants you, she muttered, half to herself, your dads too busy sorting himself out to bother with you. Dont kid yourselfget used to doing what I say till youre old enough to do otherwise.
That stung Alice like a slap. She froze, clutching her ballet shoes, but shook her head firmly to clear away the hurt. No time for tears. Time to goquickly.
Margaret, not waiting for a response, went softer, with a mock concern:
Ill ask Mr Smith next door to give you a lift. Hurry up, wont you.
It wasnt a suggestion, it was an order. Alice nodded, not meeting her grans gaze. She tied her hair tight, grabbed her bag, and headed out, heart steeled against the thick lump of bitterness lodged in her throat. At least at dance class, amidst all the music and movement, she could forget this place for a while.
**************
Alice slipped into the dance studio, blinking against the warm lights. After a moment she could see properly and took a few steps inside.
Miss Jenkins, already re-arranging the barre, spotted Alice right away. She looked up, and her worried expression softened.
Alice, love, you look a bit peaky, she said kindly, clearly concerned. The teacher came straight over, peering into her face. You feeling alright?
Alice slumped. She didnt want to complain, but couldnt really hide the way she felt, either. Barely above a whisper, she breathed, My stomach.
How longs it been hurting? Miss Jenkins moved in closer, her hand gentle on Alices shoulder, as if by touch she could ease the pain.
Since yesterday, Alice said, eyes on the floor. Her voice had none of its usual life.
Miss Jenkins frowned, thinking things through. She knew what Margaret was liketough as old boots, convinced you could will away any illness if you just tried hard enough.
Have you told your gran? she asked, trying to keep steady although her heart sank.
Alice sighed heavily, looking up with a brief flash of frustration. Mimicking her grans tone, she exaggerated:
Nonsense! You just dont want to practice!
Miss Jenkins instantly changed tack, the kindness replaced with pure business. She stood up straighter, her expression focused, movements swift.
Right, this is no joke, she said, cutting off any arguments. You need to see a doctor. Could be appendicitis, couldnt it? Is it really sore?
Alice gripped her side and hunched a bit, trying to ease the pain. She didnt want to panic, but she was scared on top of being tired. She just nodded, barely getting out the words:
Mmm. Feel a bit sick, too.
Miss Jenkins grew even more serious. She glanced around, looking for someone to help, but spotted no one. Pulling her mobile from her pocket, she quickly dialled.
Ill ring for an ambulance, she said gently but firmly. Best to be on the safe side.
Her fingers flew over the screen, and a second later she was calmly relaying the studio address, describing Alices symptoms, answering the dispatchers questions. While she waited, she led Alice over to the bench by the wall and sat her down, keeping a caring hand on her shoulder.
Just sit here, she soothed, settling beside her. Itll be alright. Dont worry.
Alice wanted to protestmaybe downplay it, say it wasnt that badbut she found she couldnt say anything. Cold washed through her, her heart beating a jagged rhythm in her throat. Seeing her so pale, Miss Jenkins took her zip-up sports jacket from the barre and tucked it around her.
Warmer? she asked, adjusting the sleeves.
Alice nodded, staring down. She wasnt used to feeling so helpless. Usually, she was expected to power through, but now, even she knew something was really wrong.
Miss Jenkins sat close, not letting go of Alices hand and quietly checking in every now and then. The air still smelt faintly of beeswax, music drifted from a classroom down the corridor, but it all felt miles away. Only the warmth of her teachers hand and soothing voice remained.
When the buzzing sound of an approaching ambulance reached them, Miss Jenkins squeezed Alices hand.
There you go, thats help. The doctor will check you, and well see whats what
************
Alice came round to the soft beep of a monitor. She opened her eyes slowly, feeling a gentle weight on her head and a softness beneath her cheek. The room was bright, walls a pale blue, and the big window framed leaves swaying outside. The air was touched with the scent of disinfectant and clean sheets.
The memories trickled back in: Miss Jenkins calling an ambulance, the dash to hospital, the questions, the check-ups, the jab, the drowsy drift into sleepand now, here she was.
The door creaked open. Alice turned her head as her father strode in, his face tense, eyebrows drawn, covering an obvious worry. Just behind him, Margaret enteredher mouth clamped shut, glancing suspiciously between Alice and her dad.
Im taking Alice home, her dad declared, voice solid as iron. As soon as the doctors say shes well enough, Im taking her with me. Shell be better off at mine.
Margaret froze, arms folded tight across her chest, and gave a scornful snort.
And what can you offer her, eh? Always off at work! Shell be running wild, hanging round with a bad crowd, or stuck on her computer just like her mother was!
Her fathers hands clenched hard enough to leave half-moons in his palms. He forced himself to stay calmthese werent the walls for another shouting match. But he felt anger boiling beneath the surface. He glared at Margaret, every word stoking the fire.
Shell be healthy, he spat, voice shaking with contained rage. You nearly killed her!
He paused, breathing in sharply, fighting for composure. As much as he wanted to let it all out, this wasnt the momenthe owed Alice better than more family drama in front of the nurses.
Did you ever once ask her what she actually likes? What makes her happy? he pressed on, looking her gran square in the eye. Shes a person, not some puppet for your dreams!
Margaret tilted her chin, a sneer twisting her lips. She fiddled with her handbag, sounding like she was reciting a lecture.
Every girl should dance, gives her good posture, she intoned. She should know music, make good conversation. Not that youd get that.
She looked him up and down as if he barely existed.
Well, thats Helens legacy for you! Bringing outsiders into the family! she added, her voice held years of resentment.
Her dad felt the resentment twist inside himhed never been accepted by Margaret. He was always not good enoughwrong background, wrong education, wrong everything. But it wasnt about him now. It was about Alice.
Weve got nothing to do with your family, he said firmly, stepping closer. And Im taking Alice. Shes living with me now.
His words were quiet, but every syllable was an unshakable promise.
And if you try to interfere, youll regret it. There was something in his eyes that made Margaret recoil, one step back.
She opened her mouth as if to object, but stopped short. Instead, she clutched her handbag so hard her knuckles showed white, then spun round on her heel.
Youll regret this, she threw over her shoulder as she swept out.
He said nothing, watching her go, feeling the tension begin to ease out. It was time to talk to Alicereally talk to her, tell her everything was going to change. He took a deep breath, then turned back towards her room…
************
Margaret stormed out of the hospital, her heels echoing up and down the empty path. The wind tugged at the edges of her coat, but she didnt bother to hold it downshe was using every ounce of energy just to keep herself together.
Fine by me! she thought, her grip on her handbag so tight it hurt. They dont know what theyre losing.
In her mind, the argument replayed on a loop. Her son-in-law, firm: Im taking Alice home. Alices face, lighting up at the idea. And her, Margaret, left in the dustafter everything shed put into raising her granddaughter, after all the effort to make her a proper young lady!
I gave them everything, and for what? That sense of injustice burned.
She slowed, stopping by a bench, but refused to sitshe wouldnt give in to weakness. Instead, she checked her hair in her compact, pressed her lipstick, smoothing away every trace of irritation. The ritual calmed her just a little.
Second time unlucky, she admitted under her breath. But its not over.
A new plan started forming in her mind. She thought of the tidy brick building on the next streetthe small childrens home, with its neat garden and bright windows. There must be girls there who would cherish a family, the chance to dance, to learn piano, to be taught how to act in society
Maybe I could make a difference for a girl from there, she mused, feeling the old sense of purpose bubble up. Someone whod be grateful, whod appreciate the opportunities Alice never did! Raise a real young lady, someone whod appreciate everything!
She set off, a bit calmer, planning every detail. Shed find out what children were there, ask the staff, maybe even meet one or two of the girlsone with promise, with potential.
The wind picked up, swirling a crisp yellow leaf past her feet. Margarets gaze followed it for a moment, then she set off down the street towards the bus stop, a new plan forming in her mind. Driven on by her conviction: Ill make it work yet. I just have to try again.************
Inside the hospital room, Alice glanced up as her father settled beside her bed. For a moment, neither spoke. Then he reached forward, smoothing her hair from her foreheadthe gesture so gentle, so unlike the brusque hands shed grown used to.
She tried to speak, but her voice caught. He seemed to sense what was needed, and just sat quietly until she was ready.
After a while, Alice whispered, Will you really take me with you?
He smiled, soft but determined. Absolutely, kiddo. Well pack your things, find a new place near my work, somewhere with space for your books and maybe a decent internet connection, eh?
At that, Alices lips twitchedthe faintest start of a smile. And can I learn what I want? Not just what someone else wants?
He straightened, feigning exaggerated seriousness. Only on one condition: you promise to show me some of your coding magic. Been ages since your mum tried to drag me into that world. I want you to tell me all about it.
Her eyes glistened, relief and hope swelling together inside her.
The nurse came in to check the monitors, pausing to smile at the sight of Alice, now sitting up a little taller.
When Alices father went to fill out paperwork, she caught her own reflection in the bedside window: pale, tired, but for the first time, her gaze met her own. The face staring back was hers aloneno longer just someone elses ideal, no longer living a story written before she could read.
She thought of her motherher laughter over messy code, that warm encouragement to try, to question, to create. She felt it bloom inside her, gentle but fiercely bright. She would carry it forward, not as a duty but as a promise to herself.
Outside, the sky was lifting, a pale sweep of gold touching the edges of the clouds. Alice breathed deeply. Beyond the doors, a new story was waitingone she would write, line by line, in her own words.
And this time, she knew which future she wanted to choose.
