Margaret Wilkins never forgot her argument with that dreadful woman whod married her son, Oliver. Shed tried her best to talk him out of the marriage, of course, but it hadnt workedat least not at first. And really, that provincial little upstart had far too much nerve.
Listen, Margaret, the girl had said, her voice dripping with false politeness. Why pretend youre some wise, doting mother? I can see right through you. You dont like me because I wont bend to your whims. And whats with barging into our flat every evening? Its not like were living off your money.
Margaret had bristled. How dare you lecture me? Wait until youve lived as long as I have But her carefully maintained veneer of refinement slipped, revealing the petty, small-minded woman beneathone who cared only for her own comfort, no matter who she trampled to get it.
Margaret, the girlEmilywent on, relentless, Oliver and I love each other. And Ive noticed your little talks upset him. Wasnt it enough that you drove his father out and swindled him out of his share of the flat? Now you wont even let your own son be happy? If you cant love him, at least let someone else try.
Margarets face twisted. Oh, now were singing from that hymn sheet, are we? Well, let me tell you something, you little gold-digger! Who do you think you are? Some nobody from godforsaken Leeds, with no prospects! One day, youll lose that pathetic little job of yours and end up on the streets. And you think you can tell me what to do?
Emily didnt flinch. Ah, so thats how you measure worth, is it? If youve conned your way into a nice home, youre respectable. But if I work for my living, Im beneath you? Not all of us make a habit of leeching off men, you know. And for the recordI know perfectly well you werent born in London either.
That stung. Margaret *had* come from a backwater village, with nothing to her name.
Youll never stay with my son! A mothers love is sacred! Get out! she shrieked, resorting to the one argument she knew couldnt be refuted.
Emily merely smirked and said nothing. The row changed nothingOliver and Emily married anyway.
But Margaret didnt give up. When Emily had their son, Thomas, she worked tirelessly to turn Oliver against her. And eventually, it workedthey divorced. Thomas was just four.
Still, Margaret couldnt shake the fear that Oliver might go crawling back to that brazen little actress. She knew he still saw her, even paid child support.
What she *didnt* know was that Oliver and Emily had never actually separated. Theyd been raising Thomas together all along, while Margaret believed Oliver was working in Manchester.
The plan hadnt just been about his spiteful mother. Years before the wedding, Oliver had landed himself in deep troubledebts, bad business dealings. Emily had warned him.
Ollie, dont do it, shed pleaded. That bloke, Jameshes a shark. Youre too trusting. The second I saw him, I knew hed use you.
Oliver had brushed her off. Dont be dramatic, Em. James is solid. Men have to stick together.
Hed gone ahead, of course. James made him director of a shell company, then vanished with the money, leaving Oliver drowning in debt.
Better to have stayed on his modest salary, scraping by but at least not dragging his family under. So theyd hatched the plankill two birds with one stone. Margaret was pleased with the divorce. And the creditors stopped hounding Emily and Thomas.
Officially, Oliver lived in company digs, back at his old job. But every evening, he came home to Emily and their son.
He was happy. Still, once a month, he had to play the dutiful son, visiting Margaret on a business trip. She never stopped trying to set him up with suitable women.
Why not just tell her the truth? About the debts, about us? Emily would ask.
Oliver always sighed. It would crush her. Theres got to be another way.
But there wasnt. Emily scraped by with odd jobs; Olivers wages vanished into repayments. They were barely staying afloat. Sometimes hed tell her to leave himbut she loved him.
Emily, you cant keep carrying him, her mother, Patricia, fretted. Youve got nothing but problemsyou rent that tiny flat on your wages, feed him Why? Youre not even married anymore!
Patricia, a retired schoolteacher, wouldve taken Emily and Thomas into her cramped little house in a heartbeatjust not Oliver.
Mum, I love him. Weve got a son. I wont abandon him, Emily would say.
Patricia had raised her alone. She worried. Shed hoped an ultimatum might make Emily see sense. But noso she came up with a plan.
One day, she paid Margaret an unannounced visit.
So, Patricia said bluntly, heres the situation.
Margaret gaped. Debts? And my sons still with *her*? Lying to me all this time?
Yes. And my daughters been supporting him out of her own pocket. I came to talkthough Emily forbade it.
Margaret seethed. Pretending hes in Manchester The little snake!
Patricia pressed on. Were the older generation. Weve got to sort this.
How? Margaret snapped.
Pool our savings. Ive scraped together a bitfor my daughter. My grandson.
Margaret recoiled. Absolutely not! Hes a grown man! I raised himthats enough! No help! Frankly, I wash my hands of him!
So Patricia turned to plan B.
Fine. Move in with me. Its cramped, but well manage.
Emily hesitated. If we must
Oliver, shamefaced, muttered, Sorry, Patricia. We were awful to your family at the wedding.
He remembered sneering at her provincial relatives, their clumsy table manners. Turned out, that didnt matter at all.
Patricia even rang her ex-husband, Robertsomething shed sworn shed never do.
Robert, Emilys in trouble. She needs help.
To her shock, he agreed. Of course. Shes my only girl. Whats needed?
Patricia laid out the debts, bracing for his usual tight-fisted refusal.
But Robertnow a successful builderjust asked, How much?
She named the sum, thinking: *Even if he helps, and Oliver still bolts at least theyll be free of the debt.*
Robert agreedon one condition.
One dinner. Just us.
Patricia laughedsurprisingly girlish. Behave yourself.
Years passed. By Thomas eighteenth birthday, the family gatheredwhole. Patricia and Robert, remarried after his patient courtship. Oliver and Emily, still together, though Patricia had insisted they wait to remarry until Emily owned the flat Robert bought for her.
Oliver had straightened out, taken a steady job.
Everyone here? Thomas asked.
Then the doorbell rang.
Margaret stood there, hesitant.
Thomas flushed. Mum, I invited her. She kept calling Shes lonely.
Emily sighed. Tom, we *talked* about this.
Patricia folded her arms. Took you long enough to apologise.
Robert chuckled. Come on, love. If not for her, we wouldnt be here. Nobodys perfect.
Oliver scowled. Mum, whats the game now?
Margarets voice wavered. No game. I just wanted to say sorry.
Shed expected them to beg for her forgiveness. Instead, the silence had eaten at her.
I thought youd come crawling. But Im not as awful as you think.
A pause. Then someone pushed a cup of tea into her hands.
None of them had ever mastered the finer points of dining etiquette. But in that house, there was something far more importantkindness, love, and second chances.
