“Mum, meet someone,” Tom said, nudging a girl forward. “This is Emily. My fiancée.”
Margaret Armitage, whod been standing, promptly sat downthankfully, a chair was right where it should be. Her boy, her Tommy, looked like a schoolboy next to his bride, who carried herself with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
“Alright?” Emily kept her hands in her jeans pockets, gum snapping in her mouth as she stood before Margaret like she owned the place.
“Hel hello,” the stunned mother managed. “How did you two When?”
“Mum, its fine!” Tom kicked off his shoes and nodded for Emily to do the same. “Well be staying with Em for now, yeah, love?”
“Mm-hmm,” she agreed, chewing vigorously.
“Son, can I have a word?” Margaret stood and walked to the kitchen.
“You can talk in front of me,” Emily plopped into an armchair, flipping through TV channels with the remote, one leg crossed over the other. “Tommy and I dont keep secrets. Right, Dumbo?”
“Right, Mum,” Tom nodded, his ears turning pink.
“Fine,” Margaret steadied herself. “Tom, are you sure about this? Shes at least ten years older than you.”
“Eight!” Emily corrected. “And it doesnt matter. Got a problem with that? Im independent, well-off, a grown woman”
“Exactly! A woman! And my boys barely twenty!” Margaret clutched her head.
“Well, someones got to make a man out of him, since no one else managed,” Emily snorted.
Margaret gaped like a fish out of water.
“Mum,” Tom finally spoke up, “we came because we need money for the wedding.”
“Whats that got to do with me?” Margaret huffed, stunned by the audacity.
“Hows it not?” Emily frowned. “Traditionally, the grooms family pays. Mine agrees.”
“Of course they do!” Margaret threw her hands up. “Hand over your leftovers and demand cash on top! You should be paying me for taking your has-been off your hands. Not a penny!”
Emily smirked, standing to loom over Margaret. “Suit yourself, old bird. Come on, Dumbo, well manage.” She marched to the door, shoving Tom onto the landing.
“Bye, Mum!” he called before the door slammed.
“Lord, what did I do to deserve this?” Margaret sobbed into her biscuits. She never imagined her sweet, sensitive Tommy falling for such a predator.
“His ears are perfectly normal!” she wailed belatedly toward the door.
Outside, Emily scratched her head. “What now? We cant afford a proper do. My folks wont chip in either.”
“Maybe have it at our cottage, then go travelling?” Tom suggested hopefullyhis wages barely covered rent, let alone a wedding.
“Why didnt you say sooner? Go back, get the keys. Ill waitwouldnt want to traumatise the old dear.” She cackled.
Just as Margaret calmed down, the bell rang again.
“Now what?” she muttered, flinging the door open to find Tom.
“Mum, its just me.”
“Shes left you?” Margaret brightened.
“Mum! We love each other!”
“Then what?”
“Can we borrow the cottage? For the wedding?”
“Over my dead body! Youll wreck the place!”
“Well clean up, I swear! Dont you want me happy?”
Margaret choked on her tea. “I do, but not like this!”
“Emily makes me happy.”
“Doubt it,” she sighed, stomping to fetch the keys. “Fine. But it better be spotless.”
Tom snatched them, kissed her cheek, and bolted before she changed her mind.
“Look, love!” He waved the keys triumphantly outside.
“See? You can manage when you try.” Emily spat out her gum and kissed him deeply.
Margaret was invitedto her surprise.
“How am I supposed to smile?” she moaned to her neighbour. “Id rather drown her in the punch bowl!”
“Relax,” the neighbour shrugged. “Kids these daysmarried today, divorced tomorrow. Mines on her third. Just pray they dont breed.”
“Whats the point, then?”
“Who knows? Maybe theyre collecting spouses.”
The wedding was held on a rare sunny day.
“Lucky with the weather!” guests cheered. Thirty showed up, including Emilys parentsstiff as boards. Margaret overheard Emilys mother whining about midges. Meanwhile, her husband, after a few whiskeys, flirted shamelessly with the bridesmaids.
“What does she see in him?” Emilys mother sniffed to Margaret.
“Funny, I was thinking the same about your daughter,” Margaret snapped, moving away before she ruined the day.
Outside, her heart sank. Barbecues sat between trampled vegetable patches, her carefully stored firewood feeding the flames.
“The loos that way!” she barked at guests relieving themselves by the apple trees.
“Cheers, Mum!” they laughed, adjusting their trousers.
By dawn, the cottage was a warzonebottles, food scraps, even a few passed-out guests in the greenhouse.
“At least no knickers on the line,” Margaret muttered, plucking scarves from branches.
Tom found her surveying the damage.
“Mum, whatre you doing?”
“Waiting to see who cleans this mess!”
“Theyll sort it when they wake.” He splashed his face from the rain barrel and went to rouse Emily.
Margarets jaw dropped when the newlyweds emerged with suitcases.
“Where are you going? What about the cleanup?”
“Were late, Mum,” Tom nudged her aside. “Booked a trip.”
“And the guests?”
“Theyve got legs,” Emily shrugged, dragging Tom off. “This dumps all yours.”
One by one, guests slunk away, leaving Margaret alone in the wreckage. Emilys father staggered over, reeking of booze.
“Sorry, love. Were off.” His wife, hair like a birds nest, mumbled something before they wobbled out.
In the bedroom, Margaret spotted an envelope under gift boxescash from the guests. A hefty sum.
“Didnt think they had it in them,” she mused, dialling a cleaning service.
“Good morning! Sparkling Homes? I need a full cleanupcottage and garden. Yes, thats acceptable.” She counted out the cash, smiling.
“Safe travels, kids.” She settled in with tea and biscuits, quite pleased with herself.
