**Diary Entry**
*Thursday, 15th March*
This evening was eventful, to say the least. It started with a quiet question from me to Emily: Sweetheart, how old are you again? Because judging by your decisions, Id swear you were in primary school, not your first year at uni. Love is one thing, but where will you live? What will you eat? You cant just rush into marriage tomorrow! No ones against your Oliverbring him round, lets meet his parents, have a proper chat. Sound fair?
Then Claire rang me at work. Darling, when will you be home? she asked, her voice tight.
Soon, just wrapping up, I replied.
Dont dawdle. We need to talk.
My stomach dropped. Something wrong?
Not yet, she said cryptically, but its coming.
Fifteen minutes later, I was through the door.
Whats happened? I asked, bracing myself.
Change first, wash up. The world wont end in the next five minutes, Claire kissed my cheek and nudged me toward the bathroom.
Once freshened up, I found her leading me to Emilys room. Our daughter sat on her bed, eyes red.
Right, whats going on? I kept my voice level.
Ask *her*, Claire huffed. Go on, love, tell your father what youve decided.
Emily scowled, turning to the window.
Ladies, I smacked the desk lightly. Either you explain calmly, or sort it yourselves. Ive just clocked off.
Were getting married, Claire announced, dripping sarcasm. Today, apparently.
I blinked. Just like that? To whom, if I may ask?
Silence. Claire rolled her eyes. Oliver Whitmore. Ring any bells? The one whos been round every other night.
Ah. So, Oliver, is it? I turned to Emily, who clenched her jaw. Right. Enough games. Out with it.
Were in love! she burst out. Hes perfect, and we *are* getting married!
At least weve got *some* clarity, I sighed. Same course?
Yes. Same seminar group.
First years, I muttered. Children.
Were *not* children! Were eighteenadults!
Fine. If youre adults, well talk like adults. Have you thought about *where* youll live? How youll pay bills?
None of that matters! Love is enough!
Emily, I rubbed my temples. Love wont pay rent. You cant just
Heres the kicker, Claire cut in. Theyre in a *rush*.
Oliver drafted into the army?
Not Oliver. *Emily*.
Our daughter glowered. Were having a baby.
Silence. Then: Right. And your plan is?
Were getting married! Keeping it! And dont you *dare* try to talk me out of it!
No ones talking you out of anything. But does Olivers family know?
Hes telling them tonight
An hour later, the call came. Olivers mother, Patricia, icy as January: *Our son needs to focus on his degree. Marriagelet alone a *child*isnt on the cards. And frankly, weve no proof its even his. Good luck with your situation. Goodbye.*
The dial tone hung in the air.
So, I said heavily. Well support you. Youll take leave, return to studies later. But mark my wordswe *will* have words with those people.
Thenknocking at the door. Oliver stood there, jaw set. Ive come for Emily.
Turns out, hed played along with his parents just long enough to grab his wallet and passport. Ive savings, he said. From my blog. Enough for a flat.
Ill admitI was impressed.
We struck a deal: No grand wedding yet. Theyd reconcile with his parents *properly*. Hed stay the night (on the sofa, mind you). And no dropping outOliver especially.
Later, Claire cornered me. You changed your tune fast.
That boy stood his ground, I said. Didnt abandon her. Thats the kind of man Ill let marry my daughter.
She kissed me. Always right, arent you?
Now, to bed. Tomorrows another day.
