“Ill be right there, Mum,” replied William, barely glancing up from the newspaper. The article about the pension increases wasnt sinking inthe words blurred before his eyes. Too many thoughts swirled in his head after yesterdays conversation with Emily.
Margaret entered the room carrying a tray with two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. She set one beside his armchair, but he didnt look up. Sighing, she sat across from him, studying his face intently.
“You seem lost in thought today.”
“Just work,” he muttered, finally putting the paper aside. “Thanks for the tea.”
Margaret sipped hers quietly, eyes never leaving her son. At sixty-four, she carried herself with the poise of a woman whod spent decades getting to the truth of things.
“William James,” she said sternly, using his full name as she had when he was a boy in trouble, “stop dodging. I saw you talking to that… whats her name… Emily by the front steps yesterday.”
William nearly choked on his tea. His mother always had a way of catching him off guard.
“Mum, what does Emily have to do with anything?”
“Do you think Ive raised you for forty years without knowing when somethings weighing on you?” Margaret set her cup down with a sharp clink. “Out with it. Whats on your mind?”
He stood and walked to the window. Late autumn had stripped the trees bare, mirroring the hollow feeling in his chestwhether from the impending conversation or the realisation his mother had guessed right, he couldnt tell.
“I want to marry her,” he said without turning.
The silence stretched so long he finally glanced back. His mother sat straight-backed, hands folded in her lap, wearing an expression he recognised from childhoodthe one that meant a serious talk was coming.
“Son, dont marry a girl with no prospects,” she said bluntly. “Dont do that to yourself.”
The words stung more than hed expected. Not because they surprised himhed known his mother disapproved of Emilybut hearing it aloud was harder than hed imagined.
“Mum, what does money have to do with it? I love her.”
“Love, love,” Margaret shook her head. “And how will you live? You earn pennies at that museum, and she makes even less at the library. How will you raise children?”
“Well manage. People live on less.”
His mother stood abruptly, strode to the cabinet, and pulled out a photo album. She flipped through it before jabbing a finger at a faded picture.
“Look. Your father and me, young and in love. Know what came after?”
William knew the story, but she was determined to tell it again.
“We lived in a cramped flat on your fathers wages alone. I couldnt workyou were small, then your sister came. Money ran out by the 20th of the month. We borrowed from neighbours, ate potatoes and carrots for days on end. Remember how your father snapped at us when the stress got too much?”
“I remember,” he said quietly. “But times are different now.”
“Times change. People dont.” Margaret closed the album and sank back into her chair. “Poverty eats away at love like rust on metal. First, you argue over small thingshe wants meat, but theres only enough for pasta. Then bigger thingsshe needs a dress, he needs shoes. Soon, you cant stand the sight of each other.”
“Emily isnt like that. She doesnt ask for much.”
“Not yet. But what happens when she sees her friends living better? When your children need school uniforms you cant afford?”
William returned to his chair and picked up his lukewarm tea. His mothers words cut deep because they held truth. Hed lain awake thinking the same things.
“So what do you suggest? Stay single forever?”
“Find a proper girl. Educated, with a decent job. Remember Sarah Wilkins? Works at the bank now, earns well. Pretty, clever too.”
“Mum, Im not applying for a job. Im getting married.”
“Stop being sentimental,” Margaret said sharply. “At your age, its time to think with your head, not your heart. Youre thirty-fivetoo old for Romeo and Juliet.”
William winced. His mother had a gift for hitting where it hurt most.
“So happiness only comes with money?”
“Not *only* with money, but certainly not without it.” She stood, collecting the cups. “Fine, I wont lecture you. Youre a grown man. But remember my words when life gets hard.”
Alone, William found no peace. His mothers warnings looped in his mind, drowning out everything else. He reached for his phone to call Emily, then hesitated. What would he say? How could he explain his mothers disapproval?
That evening, Emily called first.
“Hi, how are you? You seemed off yesterday.”
“Everythings fine,” he lied. “Just tired from work.”
“Oh! I saw the most gorgeous dress today,” her voice brightened instantly. “In that boutique near the park. Blue, really elegant. A bit pricey, though…”
A cold prickle shot through his chest. Coincidence? Or was his mother rightwas Emily already hinting at spending?
“How much?” he asked, forcing calm into his voice.
“£500. I know its a lot, but its stunning… And the office Christmas partys coming up. Id love to look nice.”
£500. Half his monthly wage. William swallowed hard.
“Well see,” he said vaguely.
“Youre upset, arent you?” Concern crept into her tone. “Im not demanding it, just sharing”
“No, its fine. Just… thinking.”
After hanging up, he stared at the wall. Emily hadnt demanded the dressjust voiced a wish. But £500… That could feed them for a month. Or go toward a wedding.
Wedding thoughts led to other calculations. A one-bed flatat least £1,200 a month. His museum salary: £1,800. Hers: £1,500. Total: £3,300. Minus rent£2,100 left. Food, transport, clothes, medicine… God forbid anyone got sick.
At breakfast the next morning, his mother acted as usualserved porridge, sipped coffee, asked about his day. But William felt her gaze. She was waiting. Waiting for him to realise she was right.
“Mum, how did you and Dad meet?” he asked suddenly.
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Havent I told you? University. He was a year ahead. Handsome, smartall the girls fancied him.”
“What drew you to him?”
She stirred her coffee thoughtfully. “Honestly? His looks first. Then how serious he was. Not like the other lads. Big planswanted to be an engineer, earn well, support a family.”
“And did he?”
“At first. Landed a good job after graduation. But then the factory closed, the recession hit…” She set her cup down, gazing out the window. “I didnt love him for money. But knowing he could provide mattered. A woman needs security, especially with children.”
“And if hed been poor from the start?”
“I dont know,” she admitted. “Mightve said no. At twenty, love seems enough. At forty, you know better.”
William finished his porridge in silence. Her words settled like a weighthard to argue with.
At work, he couldnt focus. Leading tours, describing ancient artefacts, his mind stuck on modern problems. His colleague, Claire, noticed.
“Whats got you so distracted? Youre miles away.”
“Just personal stuff,” he deflected.
“Ah. Woman troubles.” She smirked. “You and Emily getting serious?”
“We are,” he said, though his mothers words had chipped at that certainty.
“She doesnt work?”
“She does. At the library.”
“Right. Those salaries…” Claire gave a knowing nod. “Ever thought of switching jobs? Private museums pay better.”
“Thought about it. But they want experience with wealthy clients, languages…”
“Ah. Youd need a foot in the door.”
Claire returned to her desk, leaving William to dwell on her words. So it wasnt just his motherothers saw the impracticality too.
That evening, he met Emily. She chatted brightly about work, new library books. He half-listened, studying her. She was prettydark hair, grey eyes, delicate features. But her clothes were plain. Jeans years old, a jumper worn thin.
“Guess what?” she said suddenly. “I calculated how much wed need to live on if we married.”
William tensed.
“And?”
“If we rent a one-bed on the outskirts, wed manage. Might not save much, but wed be together.”
Her trusting smile made him ashamed of his doubts. Emily didnt crave luxuries. Shed live modestly just to be with him.
“What about children?” he asked. “How would we raise them on that?”
“
