**Diary Entry 17th March**
*”This woman is my real mother. Shell be living with us now.”*
Thats what Edward said as he stepped over the threshold with a frail stranger in her seventies.
I froze, a ladle in my hand. The beef stew simmered on the hob, the table was set for supper, and nowthis.
*”What do you mean, your real mother?”* My voice barely came out. *”Edward, your mother died ten years ago. We buried her together.”*
*”That woman was my adoptive mother,”* he replied, helping the stranger out of her coat. *”This is Margaret Whitmoremy birth mother. She gave me up as a baby.”*
My legs went weak. Twenty-five years of marriage, and suddenly, this.
*”Sit down, Margaret,”* Edward said, guiding her to the table. *”Ellie, set another place.”*
*”Wait.”* I put the ladle down. *”Explain this to me first. Where did she come from? Why didnt you say anything?”*
*”I only just found out myself,”* he muttered, avoiding my eyes. *”Margaret tracked me down through a tracing service. Shes got no one leftnowhere to go.”*
*”Wheres she been living until now?”* I studied her.
Margaret sat silent, fidgeting with her hands. Her clothes were worn but clean, her face weary.
*”A council flat,”* Edward answered for her. *”Sold off by the new owners. She was evicted. I cant turn her away.”*
*”You couldnt discuss this with me? This is my home too.”*
*”Ellie, be reasonable,”* he frowned. *”Shes my mother. Would you deny an old woman shelter?”*
I searched his facethe same Edward Id known for decadesbut his expression was new, as though I were the obstacle to his noble gesture.
*”Fine,”* I said. *”Lets eat first. Well talk later.”*
Dinner was stiflingly quiet. Margaret ate in silence, nodding gratefully whenever Edward refilled her plate. I pushed stew around my bowl, my thoughts racing.
*”How did you find Edward?”* I asked her.
*”A notice in the paper,”* she whispered. *”I remembered the surname they gave him. His birthday, too.”*
*”Why now, after all these years?”*
She lowered her head. *”Shame caught up with me. Wanted to make things right before its too late.”*
Edward squeezed her shoulder. *”Its in the past. Were together now.”*
Watching them, something coiled tight in my chest. It wasnt about space or foodsomething felt off.
Later, as Edward showed her around, I overheard him say, *”Thisll be your room. Our daughters old oneshes married now.”*
*”Oh, I dont want to intrude,”* Margaret fretted. *”The sofas fine.”*
*”Nonsense. Youre family.”*
That night, I confronted Edward. *”Are you *sure* shes your mother?”*
*”Of course!”* he snapped. *”Shes got papers from the childrens home.”*
*”Have you verified them? Checked archives? DNA?”*
He looked at me as if Id suggested something vile. *”Shes an old, sick woman, Ellie. She crossed the country to find meand youre talking about *checks*?”*
*”Scams happen, Edward. People prey on kindness.”*
*”Look at her! Whats she got to steal? Barely a penny to her name.”*
Arguing was pointless. Hed made up his mind.
The next morning, Margaret was still asleep when I spotted her shabby handbag on the nightstand. Downstairs, Edward sipped coffee.
*”Sleep well?”* I asked.
*”Fine. You look sour.”*
*”Just wondering how thisll work. Three of us under one roof.”*
*”Itll be fine. Shes quiet. Nice to have someone about, with the kids gone.”*
*”We werent *lonely*,”* I said, stung.
*”Werent we?”*
Margaret shuffled in, apologetic. *”Sorry for barging in. I know its awkward.”*
*”Not at all,”* Edward said firmly. *”Youre home now. Right, Ellie?”*
I nodded, pouring her coffee. *”Tell me about your life. Whered you work?”*
*”Cleaning hospitals,”* she said. *”Retired now. Lived modestlyhonest work.”*
*”Any other family?”*
*”Never married. After I gave Eddie up… couldnt bear to love anyone else.”*
Edwards eyes softened. *”Why *did* you give me up?”*
*”Young and foolish,”* she murmured. *”His father was militarypromised marriage, then vanished. My parents were poor. I thought… the home would give him a better chance.”*
*”They did,”* Edward said. *”Good family, good education.”*
*”Still wrong,”* she whispered. *”A mother shouldnt abandon her child.”*
It sounded plausible. Yet unease prickled.
Days later, oddities surfaced. Food vanished faster. A tin of tea disappeared.
*”Edward,”* I said, *”I think shes hoarding things in her room.”*
*”Ellie, shes known hardship! Old habits die hard.”*
*”Or shes feeding someone else.”*
*”Christ, listen to yourself!”*
Then my gold earrings vanished.
*”Edward, theyre *gone*.”*
*”You mislaid them.”*
*”I didnt.”*
His jaw tightened. *”If youre accusing my mother”*
*”Im stating facts.”*
He stormed out.
The next day, our neighbour knocked. *”Ellie, that womanshe left with a man this morning. Looked rough. She handed him something.”*
That evening, I told Edward.
*”Shes lying,”* he scoffed. *”Jealous, probably.”*
*”Of *what*?”*
*”That weve family here!”*
Two days later, my silver anniversary bracelet disappeared.
I rang our daughter. *”Liz, come over. Now.”*
She brought her husband, Tom, who worked in fraud prevention.
*”Mum, did Dad check her papers?”* Liz asked.
*”He refused.”*
Tom frowned. *”This reeks of a scam. They target middle-aged loners, mine social media, fabricate connections.”*
*”What do we do?”*
*”Verify. Contact the childrens home. Demand DNA. A real mother wouldnt refuse.”*
That night, I confronted Edward. *”My bracelets gone. I want a DNA test.”*
*”Youre *mad*!”* he roared. *”I wont humiliate her!”*
*”Then explain the thefts!”*
*”Maybe youre losing your mind!”*
The words stung. Never in 25 years had he spoken to me like that.
*”Fine. Ill find out myself.”*
The next day, I visited the childrens home. The matron examined Margarets papers.
*”This isnt our format,”* she said. *”Our seals go here, wording differs.”*
Archives confirmed: no Edward Whitmore matching his details.
I handed Edward the proof that evening. *”Shes a fraud.”*
He paled. *”It cant be.”*
Margaret walked in, saw the papers, andjust like thather meekness vanished.
*”So what?”* she sneered. *”We had a nice run. Roof, food, warmth. You got to play the doting son.”*
*”Youre a thief,”* I said.
*”And youre too nosy,”* she shot back. *”Shame your husbands so gullible.”*
*”Get out,”* Edward growled.
*”Im *registered* here now,”* she smirked. *”Took your hubby to the council office. Two months grace before you can boot me.”*
Edward clutched his head. *”What have I done?”*
*”Were calling the police,”* I said.
*”Go ahead,”* she shrugged. *”No proof I took anything. Its your word against mine.”*
We tried anyway. The police confirmed forged documents. Neighbours testified.
Three days later, Margaret was arrestedpart of a ring preying on vulnerable middle-aged men, crafting fake identities from online
