Margaret still remembered that awful conversation with the woman her son Oliver had married. Shed tried so hard to talk him out of itno luck, at least not at first. And honestly, that provincial girl had far too much nerve for her own good.
“Listen, Margaret. Stop pretending to be the wise mother. I can see right through youyou cant stand me. And why? Because I see *you* for what you are, and I wont bend over backwards to please you. What gives you the right to waltz into *our* flat every evening without so much as a knock? Were not living off your money,” the cheeky girl had said.
Margarets carefully maintained poise vanished in an instant. “Excuse me? *You* dare lecture *me*? Wait till youve lived as long as I have” But her refined façade cracked, revealing the petty, small-minded woman beneathone who lived only for comfort, no matter who she had to trample to get it.
“Margaret, Oliver and I love each other. And Ive noticed your little chats with him dont do him any good. First, you drove out his father and talked him into signing over his share of the flat to younow you wont even let *him* breathe! Cant you at least let your son be happy? If you wont love him, at least let someone else try,” said Lily, brazen as ever.
“Oh, *now* were singing that tune, are we? Listen here, you little upstartwho do you think you are? What backwater town did you crawl out of? Youre nobody. If you lost your job tomorrow, youd be out on the street, and you *dare* tell me what to do?” Margaret hissed.
“So thats how you measure decency, is it? If you swindle a flat and kick everyone out, youre a proper lady, but if I earn my own living, thats a *bad* thing? Not all of us leech off husbands with property!” Lily shot back. “And for the recordI know *you* werent born in London either.”
That hit a nerve. Margaret *had* come from a tiny village years ago, with no education or prospects.
“You will *never* be with my son! A mothers love is sacred! Get out!” Margaret shrieked, out of arguments.
Lily just scoffed and walked away. Oddly enough, the fight didnt change a thingshe and Oliver still got married.
But Margaret wasnt done. When Lily had their son, little Alfie, she worked tirelessly to turn Oliver against her. And in the end, they divorcedAlfie was only four.
Years later, Margaret still fretted that Oliver might go crawling back to that brazen actress. She knew he sometimes saw Lily, even paid child support. What she *didnt* know? Theyd *never* actually split. While she thought Oliver worked in Manchester, he was still home every night with Lily and Alfie.
The whole scheme wasnt just about Margaret. Years before the wedding, Oliver had landed himself in hot watermassive debts from a bad business deal with his old mate, *Ethan*.
“Ollie, dont be daft. Ethans a shark. Youre like a naive little chick next to himhell chew you up and spit you out,” Lily had warned.
“Dont exaggerate. Ethans a good bloke. Men stick togetherthats how the world works.”
“Grow up. Decency isnt about gender. Ethans using you,” Lily said.
He ignored her. Ethan made him director of a shell company, then vanished with all the cash, leaving Oliver drowning in debt.
Better to scrape by on a modest salary than drag his family under, they decidedso they faked the divorce. Margaret got her wish, and the creditors left them alone.
Officially, Oliver lived in company digs. Unofficially? He came home to a cosy flat every night. But once a month, he had to play the dutiful son, enduring Margarets latest matchmaking attempts.
“Why not just tell her the truth? About the debts, about *us*?” Lily asked.
“No itd break her heart. Well figure something out.”
“But what? We cant hide forever!”
There was no way out. Lily scraped by on odd jobs; Olivers wages barely covered the debts. They were broke. Sometimes hed say she should leave himbut she loved him.
“Lily, why are you still supporting him? Youve got nothing but problems of your own! Paying rent, feeding himwhy? Youre not even married anymore!” Her mother, *Rose*, a schoolteacher, was ready to take her and Alfie inbut not Oliver.
“Mum, I love him. We have a son. I wont abandon him.”
Rose had raised Lily alone. Shed hoped an ultimatum would make her drop Oliverno such luck. So she hatched a plan.
“Margaret, we need to talk,” Rose said, arriving unannounced. “Olivers in debt. And hes *still* with my daughterlying to you all this time.”
“That *wretch*!”
“My Lilys been feeding him, paying his wayagainst my wishes! But were the older generation. Shouldnt we *help*?”
“*Help*? Hes a grown man! Ive done enoughI never want to see him again!”
Fine. Rose turned to Plan B.
“Move in with me. Its tight, but its home,” she said.
Lily agreed. Oliver, still ashamed of how hed mocked Roses simple ways years ago, apologised. Turns out, table manners werent what mattered.
Finally, Rose called Lilys estranged father, *George*.
“Shes my only daughter. What do you need?”
“Money. A place to live.”
He agreedon one condition.
“A meeting. Just us.”
Rose laughedlike a girl again.
Years later, at Alfies 18th, the family gatheredRose and George hand in hand, remarried. Oliver and Lily, too. (Rose had insisted they wait until Lily owned the flat George bought her.)
Then the doorbell rang.
“Alfie, did you *invite* her?” Lily frowned.
“Mum, she kept calling Shes lonely!”
Margaret stood there, chastened.
“Couldnt find the words all these years?” Rose said.
“Oh, give over. If not for her, we wouldnt be here,” George said.
“Mum, whats the point of this?” Oliver sighed.
“I just wanted to apologise,” Margaret whispered. Shed waited for them to beg. Instead, shed been alone.
Silence. Then someone passed her tea. A plate of biscuits.
No one in this family used the right cutlery. But they had something betterforgiveness.
