**Diary Entry**
Mum, meet someone,” Will said, stepping aside to reveal a girl. “This is Chloe. My fiancée.”
Margaret barely managed to sink onto the nearest chairthankfully, it was right where it should be. Her boy, her little Will, standing next to his bride-to-be, looked more like a schoolboy beside his headmistress.
“Hiya,” Chloe drawled, hands stuffed in her jeans pockets, gum snapping between her teeth as she stared Margaret down like she owned the place.
“H-Hello dear,” Margaret stammered, utterly flabbergasted. “So, how did you two When?”
“Mum, relax! Its all good!” Will slipped off his shoes and nodded for Chloe to do the same. “Were moving in with Chloe, yeah, babe?”
“Mm-hmm,” she grunted, jaw working furiously.
“Sweetheart, can I borrow you for a sec?” Margaret stood and headed to the kitchen.
“You can talk in front of me,” Chloe plopped onto the sofa, flipping through channels with the remote, one leg crossed over the other. “Will and I dont keep secrets. Right, bunny?”
“Right, Mum,” Will nodded, his cheeks flushing.
“Fine,” Margaret sighed, trying to compose herself. “Sweetheart, are you sure about this? Shes at least ten years older than you!”
“Eight!” Chloe corrected. “And it doesnt matter. Got a problem with it? Im independent, well-off, a grown woman”
“Exactly! A woman! And my boys barely turned twenty!” Margaret clutched her head.
“Well, someones got to make a man out of him, since nobody else managed,” Chloe smirked.
Margaret gaped like a fish out of water, utterly speechless.
“Mum,” Will finally spoke up, “We came for a reasonwe need money for the wedding.”
“And whats that got to do with me?” Margaret scoffed, stunned by the audacity.
“Seriously?” Chloe frowned. “Traditionally, the grooms family pays. Mine certainly thinks so.”
“Oh, brilliant!” Margaret threw her hands up. “Convenient, isnt it? Offloading shelf-worn goods and demanding cash! If anything, you should be paying me for handing my boy over to some washed-upNot a penny!”
She slashed a hand through the air, final.
“Alright, alright,” Chloe stood, smirking as she leaned into Margarets space. “Cry all you want, love. Come on, bunny, well manage.”
She strode to the door, yanking it open. Will shot his mother one last hopeful glancemaybe shed change her mind. But she turned away. Just before he left, though, she called out:
“Why ‘bunny’?”
“Because of his big ears!” Chloe cackled, shoving Will out onto the landing.
“Bye, Mum!” Will managed before the door slammed.
“Lord, where did I go wrong?!” Margaret burst into tears, collapsing at the kitchen table and drowning her sorrows in biscuits. Her sweet, gentle boy, snared by some predator.
“His ears are perfectly normal!” she wailed belatedly at the door.
* * *
“So, what now?” Chloe scratched her head outside, eyeing Will. “We dont have enough for a proper venue, let alone a toastmaster or catering. My parents wont chip in either.”
“What if we do it at our cottage, then go on a trip?” Will suggested hopefully. Hed only just started workingno savings to speak of.
“Why didnt you say that before?” Chloe clapped his shoulder. “Go ask your mum for the keys. Ill wait herewouldnt want to traumatise her with my modern charm.” She cackled.
No sooner had Margaret calmed down than the doorbell rang again.
*”What fresh hell is this?”* she muttered, trudging to answer.
Will stood alone. She peered past himno sign of the she-devil.
“Did she dump you?!” Margaret gasped hopefully.
“Mum, come on!” Will pouted. “We love each other.”
“Then what?” she sighed, turning back to the kitchen for tea. *”Too many sweets, then thirst, then”*
“Mum, can we borrow the cottage? For the wedding?” he asked sweetly, trailing after her.
“Over my dead body!” she snapped. “Youll wreck the place!”
“Well clean up, promise!” Will pressed. “Everyone will pitch in. Dont you want me happy?”
He knew where to push. Margaret choked on her tea.
“I do want you happyjust not like this!”
“But Chloe makes me happy, Mum. Shes great.”
“Couldve fooled me,” Margaret muttered. “Fine.”
She fetched the keys with a sigh.
“Youre the best!” Will kissed her cheek and bolted before she could reconsider.
“Look, babe!” He waved the keys triumphantly outside.
“See? Youve got spine when you want to,” Chloe praised, spitting out her gum before planting a kiss on him.
* * *
Margaret was invitedmuch to her surprise.
“How am I supposed to smile through this?” she moaned to her neighbour. “Id rather drown her in the punch, but noI have to toast their ‘happiness’.”
“Oh, stop fussing,” the neighbour waved her off. “Kids these days change partners like socks. Mines on her third husbandno kids, though.”
“Whats the point of marriage, then?” Margaret frowned.
“Who knows? Some want kids, some just want a collection.”
The wedding day was sunny and warmperfect, by English standards. About thirty guests showed up, including Chloes parents, who strutted about like peacocks. Her mother whined about bugs and refused to step outside, while her father, after a few brandies, lost all dignity flirting with bridesmaids.
“What does she even see in him?” Chloes mother sniffled to Margaret. “She had athletes, businessmen chasing her!”
“Im not thrilled either,” Margaret snapped, moving away before she ruined the day.
Outside, her heart sank. The garden was a warzone.
Guests had set up barbecues between her vegetable beds, pillaging her onions, radishes, and dill. Her firewood stash was being torched.
“Loos that way!” she barked at men relieving themselves by the apple trees.
“Cheers, Mum!” They laughed, zipping up.
Margaret spent the night mourning her trampled plants, fertilised by half-digested kebabs and champagne. By dawn, the guests had passed outbut she couldnt sleep.
Bottles, wrappers, and discarded scarves littered the garden. A couple snored in the greenhouse.
At least no underwear hung from the trees.
Will emerged, stretching. “Mum, whatre you doing?”
“Waiting to see wholl clean this mess!”
“Theyll help when they wake up,” he shrugged, splashing water from the rain barrel on his face before heading back inside.
Soon, the newlyweds appearedwith suitcases.
“Where dyou think youre going?” Margaret blocked the door. “What about the mess?”
“Were late, Mum,” Will nudged her aside. “Booked a honeymoon.”
“What about the guests?!”
“Theyve got legs,” Chloe said, dragging Will off. “This dumps not exactly honeymoon material.”
Margaret gaped as they left.
One by one, guests slunk away without lifting a finger. Chloes father staggered over, reeking of booze.
“Sorry bout the mess,” he hiccuped. “Wife! Lets go!”
His wife stumbled out, hair like a birds nest.
Margaret was left alone, surveying the wreckage.
In the bedroom, under gift boxes, she spotted an envelopefull of cash from the guests. A small fortune.
*”Whered they get this?”* she wondered, dialling a number.
“Hello? Sparkle Clean Services? I need a full deep-cleanhouse and garden. Yes, that price works.”
She counted out the notes, pocketing the rest.
*”Safe travels, kids,”* she smirked, settling down with coffee and biscuits.
