**Diary Entry**
Mum, meet someone,” Oliver said, stepping aside to reveal a girl beside him. “This is Emily. My fiancée.”
Margaret nearly collapsed onto the nearest chairthankfully, it was right where it should be. Her boy, her Olly, looked like a schoolboy next to his bride-to-be, who carried herself like she owned the world.
“Hey,” Emily said, hands stuffed in her jeans pockets, gum smacking between her teeth as she stood there like shed already won.
“Hello… there,” Margaret stammered, completely thrown. “When did this… happen?”
“Mum, its fine!” Oliver kicked off his shoes and nodded for Emily to do the same. “Were moving in togetherright, Em?”
“Uh-huh,” she agreed, chewing loudly.
“Olly, a word?” Margaret stood and walked stiffly towards the kitchen.
“Say whatever you want in front of me,” Emily plopped onto the sofa, flipping channels on the telly. “Olly and I dont keep secrets. Right, bunny?”
“Right, Mum,” Oliver nodded, flushing.
Margaret took a deep breath. “Darling, 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? Ive got my own place, a steady jobIm a grown woman.”
“Exactlya woman! And my boys barely twenty!” Margaret clutched her head.
“Well, someones got to toughen him up if no one else has,” Emily snorted.
Margaret gaped like a fish out of water.
“Mum,” Oliver finally spoke up, “we actually came to ask for moneyfor the wedding.”
“And why should I pay?” Margaret scoffed.
Emily blinked. “Traditionally, the grooms family covers the wedding. Mine certainly expects it.”
“Oh, brilliant!” Margaret threw her hands up. “You pawn off your leftovers and demand a payout? If anything, you should be paying me for taking my sweet boy off your hands. The answers no.”
Emily smirked, standing so close Margaret could smell her gum. “Suit yourself, love. Come on, bunny, well manage.”
She marched out, Oliver scrambling after her. He shot his mother one last hopeful glance, but she turned away.
“Why bunny?” Margaret called after them.
“Because of his big ears!” Emily shouted from the doorway before shoving him out.
“Bye, Mum!” Oliver managed before the door slammed.
Margaret slumped at the kitchen table, drowning her sorrows in custard creams. How had her sweet, sensitive boy fallen for a woman like that?
“His ears are perfectly normal!” she yelled belatedly towards the door.
Outside, Emily scratched her head. “Now what? We cant afford a proper dovenue, caterer, the lot. My folks wont chip in either.”
“What about our garden party at the cottage, then a holiday?” Oliver suggested hopefully.
“You never mentioned that before!” Emily slapped his back. “Go sweet-talk your mum for the keys. Ill wait herewouldnt want to traumatise her with my modern ways.”
Just as Margaret calmed down, the doorbell rang again.
“What now?” she muttered, swinging it open to find Oliver alone.
“Did she dump you?” she gasped.
“Mum! We love each other,” he said, wounded.
“Then what?”
“Can we use the cottage for the wedding?”
“Absolutely not! Youll wreck the place!”
“Well clean uppromise! Just want a simple do. Dont you want me happy?”
Margaret choked on her tea. “I dojust not like this!”
“I *am* happy with Emily, Mum.”
She sighed. “Fine.” Handing over the keys, she warned, “But it had better be spotless.”
“Youre the best!” He kissed her cheek and bolted.
Emily spat out her gum and planted a kiss on him. “Told you you could do it.”
Margaret was invitedmuch to her surprise.
“How am I supposed to smile through this?” she moaned to her neighbour.
“Relax, these young ones change their minds like the weather. My girls on her third marriageno kids, no fuss.”
“But whats the point without children?”
The wedding day was sunnythirty guests, Emilys posh parents looking down their noses until her dad got into the whisky and started flirting with bridesmaids.
“What does she see in him?” Emilys mum whined.
“Likewise,” Margaret snapped, moving away before she ruined the day.
Outside, chaos reignedgarden trampled, veg patch raided, firewood burned. Margaret winced as guests relieved themselves behind her apple trees.
“Loos right there!” she barked.
“Cheers, Mum!” they laughed, stumbling out.
By morning, the place was a tipbottles, food scraps, a couple passed out in the greenhouse.
“Mum?” Oliver yawned, finding her surveying the damage.
“Just seeing whos cleaning this up.”
“Theyll sort it when they wake,” he said, splashing his face from the rain barrel.
Then the newlyweds emergedsuitcases in hand.
“Where are you going?” Margaret blocked the path.
“Weve got a train to catch,” Oliver said, nudging her aside.
“What about your guests?”
“Theyve got legs,” Emily said, dragging him off. “This dumps all yours.”
One by one, guests slunk awayleaving Margaret knee-deep in rubbish.
Emilys dad staggered over, reeking of booze. “Sorry, love. Were off.”
Alone, Margaret spotted an envelope under the giftsfull of cash from the guests.
She dialled a cleaning service, smirking as she counted out the payment.
“Have a lovely trip, dears,” she murmured, settling in with biscuits and tea.
