Oh blimey, Ill admit itIm a right proper scoundrel, no two ways about it. I repent, but the cycle just keeps repeating.
“Emily, love, Im begging youget rid of this baby! Were skint as it is. Isnt little Oliver enough? Weve barely got the means to raise him. Think about it, please. As your husband, Im dead against another childyouve got to listen to me!” I was fuming, proper choked up with frustration.
“Eddie, dont panic. Well manage. My parents will help. You know how much I want a daughter. Imagine how lovely itll be for Oliver to have a siblingsomeone to grow up with, raise families together someday,” my wife Emily insisted, stubborn as ever.
We met at uni, Emily and I. Hit it off straight away. She stood outsteady, sensible, wise beyond her years. I thought, “This ones wife material.” She had this velvet voice, soothing as a lullaby, and this gorgeous mane of auburn hair. That was about it for looksplump, freckled, a bit short. But her heart? Pure gold.
The first time I saw Emily, I knew shed be my wife. Then I met Tessa, and I thought, “This ones for fun.” Tessa was in another classpretty, sharp, already married. I fancied myself like some romantic hero, dreaming of a proper wife at home and a bit of excitement on the side.
Well, that didnt work out, just like it never does in the stories.
Tessa ended up thick as thieves with Emily, becoming a proper family friend. But I still wanted a mistress, so I found one. Maisie never got jealous, never pushed for marriage, never complicated my life. She was happy to keep things light, and so was I.
Then, just when I felt like Id finally got the hang of this double life, Emily dropped the bombshe was pregnant.
She had a little girl, Charlotte. Tessa, the almost-mistress, even became her godmother.
I was smitten. Head over heels for that baby. Emily never expected me to adore the child I hadnt wantedhonestly, neither did I.
Maisie, though? She hated Charlotte from afar. Whenever we met, Id go on about how clever, beautiful, and sweet my daughter was. Mustve grated on her, because soon enough, those meetings fizzled out. I let Maisie go without a fussmy world revolved around Charlotte now. Poor Oliver got the short end of the stick, barely a scrap of my attention.
Maybe thats why, at nineteen, he fell for a woman seven years his seniorSophie. She waltzed into our house like she owned the place, bossing us all about. And we let her! Breakfast, lunch, dinnerSophie ran the show. She loved cooking up all sorts of treats. At first, Oliver lapped it upthe pampering, the fuss. But it felt more like mums care than a girlfriends. Shed call him “Duckling,” which drove him mad, so he shot back with “Mother Duck.” She just laughed, kissed his nose, ruffled his hair. In the end, they splitbut at least Oliver learned a thing or two about relationships.
Then he brought home Lily, and I nearly keeled over. She looked like a young Kate Mossstunning, slender, sweet, barely twenty. I was a bit smitten myself, Ill admit. Id bend over backwards to please her, offering sweets, cakes, ice cream. Lily couldnt care less about houseworkwhy would she, with looks like that? One glance, and Oliver was frying eggs, brewing coffee, making sandwiches. Honestly, Id have done the same Proper had me hooked, she did.
Emily noticed my, uh, enthusiasm for the future daughter-in-law and took action.
“Oliver, is this serious with Lily, or just a bit of fun?” she asked, all casual.
“What dyou mean?” he played dumb.
“Well, make your mind up. What is she to you? A live-in girlfriend? I dont get parents who let their daughters shack up with just anyone. Wheres her family in all this?” Emily pressed.
“Mum, Lilys dads not aroundjust her mum, lives in the outskirts. Cant exactly drag every bloke home,” Oliver defended her.
“Knew itbroken home. Right then, son. Either marry her, or” Emily was dead set on shielding me from temptation.
“Fine, Mum,” Oliver shrugged, clueless why she was so adamant.
A week later, he and Lily moved into a flat.
“Better this way, love. Fewer temptations for you,” Emily teased, wagging a mock-stern finger.
Three months on, Oliver came home with his bags. Alone.
“Whats this? Living apart before the wedding?” I ribbed him.
“Yeah. Only now were each marrying someone else,” he shot back, matching my tone.
“Dont fret, son. A beauty like Lily doesnt need a husbandshell break hearts either way. Menll always be gawping,” Emily said, shooting me a look.
“S alright, parents. Its fine,” Oliver mumbled, dodging the subject.
Come Christmas, a stranger turned up at our door. Emily answered.
“Alright, in-laws! Surprise! Im Lilys mum. Wheres your boy? Ive got a bone to pick with him,” the woman slurred. The booze on her breath? Yeah, festive spirit and all that.
I glanced at Emily. Oh, you wanted to meet the parents? Heres your chance.
“Come in. Care to explain why youre here?” Emily tensed.
“Simpleyour boys marrying my Lily. Shes not raising a fatherless child. Clear?” The woman smacked the doorframe for emphasis.
We were gobsmacked.
“Listen, Olivers not here. Well sort it and get back to Lily. Goodbye.” Emily gently but firmly ushered her out.
“What now, Edward?” she sighed, sinking into a chair.
Oliver wandered out, headphones on. Raised a browwhats the fuss?
Emily carefully removed them.
“Son what are we naming the baby?” she started, all innocent.
“Eh? You joking?”
“Wish I were. Lilys pregnant. Her mumdrunkjust told us. Whats your plan?” Emily was rattled.
Oliver went beetroot, scratched his nose, grabbed his head.
“Dunno. Ill figure it out. Havent seen her in six months,” he muttered, just as stunned as we were.
Soon after, Oliver brought Lily home, heavily pregnant. More radiant than ever.
“Mum, well stay in my room. Lily needs rest. Her mums always plasteredwhole village knows shes gonna be a gran.”
Charlotte popped out from the hallwaylittle eavesdropper.
“Oi, whats going on? Lilys got a massive belly. Something bigs happening, isnt it?” she grinned, all sly.
“Cheeky mare! Clear off!” Emily laughed, hugging her tight.
Lily had twinsa boy and a girl.
Oliver brought them home from the hospital. Truth be told, we werent sure they were his. But whod turn them away?
As the kids grew, the resemblance showedDaniel looked like Lily, Daisy like Oliver. Classic. We relaxedthey were ours. Not that wed have cared either waywe adored them.
Now Lily? Just the mother of my grandkids. Nothing more.
Emily? Never stops fussing over everyone.
Oliver and Lily wed quietlyno fuss. Kids come first.
Now, I warned youIve still got a mistress. Pop round to Maisies now and then. She puts up a token protest but takes me back.
I hate myself for this sweet, sinful game. But I cant help it.
Maisie, lovesend me packing. Go on, chuck out this old philanderer.
