Absolute Yes
Chapter 15: Friction
4 November 2025
The afternoon sun filtered through the Crittall windows of the Edwards’ townhouse, casting long, sharp shadows across the marble kitchen island. The rays of light were filtered into a calming warmth, yet they served as an irritant to Mary, highlighting the dust she hadn’t yet managed to banish.
For the past two months, with Bob away in the City, the house felt cavernous and empty. Olivia’s return should have sparked something positive for Mary. But it only added another responsibility which Mary felt too busy to satisfy. So instead, she busied herself with the obligations of the outside world.
Mary was in the kitchen, preparing a superfood salad for Wednesday’s planning luncheon. Her knife struck the chopping board with the rhythmic precision of a metronome. Chop. Chop. Chop. Each movement was an assertion of her will over an environment which couldn’t fight back.
“Olivia, could you fetch me the pine nuts? The ones from Waitrose,” Mary asked without looking up.
Olivia, who had been trying to read her Sociology textbook at the breakfast bar, stood up quickly. Her chair scraped against the floor — a jarring, discordant note that made Mary’s shoulders tighten for a fraction of a second.
“Sorry,” Olivia whispered. She fumbled with the pantry, before rummaging through the tins and boxes to find the requested ingredient. The jar had been hidden on the top shelf, no doubt hurriedly unpacked by Gretchen so she didn’t have to be cornered by Mary.
Olivia returned to the kitchen, to deliver the pine nuts to her mother. As she handed over the jar, her hand brushed Mary’s. Mary flinched—not out of dislike, but out of a sudden, involuntary reaction to the unexpected touch.
“You’re so cold, darling. You really should put on a jumper. And your posture... you’re slouching again.”
Olivia shrugged, and grabbed her oversized UCL hoodie. She pulled it over her head, and retreated back into her seat. “I’m fine, Mum. Just thinking about the essay.”
“Thinking is good, but doing is better,” Mary said, her voice bright but with that unmistakable Mum edge. She stopped chopping and looked at her daughter, her eyes boring into Olivia like a gemologist looking for a flaw. “I was looking at the photos from your university’s Freshers’ week on Facebook. You weren’t in any of them. I even looked at the background of the rowing club’s social.“
“I wasn’t there,” Olivia said, her voice barely audible. “I told you, I stayed in the library.”
Mary sighed, the sound of a woman tired of managing a project that refused to stay on schedule. “I know you weren’t there. I would have been able to pick out your ridiculous hair if you had been.”
Olivia winced at the biting comment. But Mary had already returned her focus to her chopping board. “The library won’t get you a seat on a board, Olivia. It won’t help you find a partner who matches your ambition. You have so much potential, but you’re... you’re flickering. You lack presence. You need to turn the volume up on yourself.”
Turn the volume up. The words felt like a physical weight on Olivia’s chest. Her mother wanted her to be a broadcast, but Olivia felt like a flute lost in the brass.
“I just don’t think I have the same... signal as you,” Olivia offered, a rare moment of verbal resistance.
“Everyone has a signal,” Mary countered, still focused on her salad. “It’s a matter of willpower. I wasn’t born this organised, Olivia. I built myself. I maintain myself. Every. Single. Day.”
Olivia thought about her father. Miles away, he was probably staring at some spreadsheet, seeking the comfort of numbers that always added up. He was a provider, an anchor. She cared about him so much it hurt, but she had lost the ability to communicate her love and affection to him. It became so much easier to just keep quiet, and enjoy the kind doting he offered.
Frustrated with her trapped feelings, Olivia picked up her book, her fingers white-knuckled around the spine. “I’m going to go to the park. I need some air.”
“Don’t stay out too late,” Mary said, not looking up from her prep. “We need to discuss your outfit for the dinner party before your father gets home.”
The door clicked shut behind Olivia, leaving a vacuum in the room. Mary put the salad into the fridge, and slammed the door harder than she intended. She saw her reflection in the polished stainless steel, and made sure to tuck the stray hair she spotted back into place.
“Gretchen,” she called through the empty kitchen, “make an appointment for Olivia with my hairdresser. I want to see if she can restore her colour.”