During her final year at university, Emily fell in lovenot with just any boy, but with Oliver, the kind of young man every girl on campus admired. With his affluent background and effortless charm, he was the golden boy of their year.
Emily, bright and pretty in her own right, came from a working-class family. She knew they were worlds apart, but love had a way of ignoring such things.
“Em, youre wasting your time with Oliver,” her flatmates warned. “Hes got his head in the clouds, only mixes with his own crowd. Hell never take you seriously.”
“What does that matter?” Emily retorted. “Im not some silly girl. Im clever, I hold my own in conversationwhy shouldnt he like me?”
“Just dont come crying to us later,” they sighed. “His parents are probably posh as anythingyou wont stand a chance.”
The thought of meeting his family sent a chill down her spine. “God, dont scare me like that. His motherIm terrified of her already.”
To her surprise, Oliver returned her feelings without hesitation. He asked her to the cinema first, and before long, they were inseparable.
As summer approached, he turned to her one evening. “Em, Mums insisting we come round for dinner this weekend. Shes been pestering me for weekswho is this girl? Whats she like?”
Emilys stomach twisted. “So soon? Im not ready!”
“Dont be daft,” he laughed. “Dads quiet as a mouse, but Mumwell, shes sharp. Loves to talk. But youll be fine.”
She spent the next two days poring over etiquette books, determined not to embarrass herself.
When the day came, Oliver led her into their elegant London flat. Her palms were slick with sweat as his mother, Margaret, greeted her with a warm smile.
“Hello, dear. Im Margaret Whitmore. Come through, both of you.”
At the table, Olivers father, Richard, gave a stiff nod. Emily sat ramrod straight, careful with her cutlery, barely eatingtoo afraid to speak with her mouth full.
Then it happened. Her fork slipped, clattering silently onto the plush cream carpet. Her cheeks burned as Oliver chuckled.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
Margaret shot her son a look. “Oliver, dont be rude. Fetch her another.”
As he disappeared into the kitchen, Margaret turned to Emily. “Relax, love. This isnt Buckingham Palace. Eat properly, or Ill think you hate my cooking.”
“Its delicious!” Emily blurted. “I justOliver said you had a housekeeper, Mrs. Higgins.”
Margaret sighed. “I do. But today, I wanted to cook myself.”
“Why?”
She laughed. “Because I wanted to impress my future daughter-in-law.”
Emily blinked. “So today wasnt just my test? You were nervous too?”
“Absolutely.”
The ice broken, Emily relaxed. Two weeks later, they were engaged.
At the wedding, Olivers parents handed them keys to a one-bedroom flat in the same building.
“Your own roof over your head,” Emilys mother whispered, teary-eyed.
Life seemed perfectuntil Emily discovered she was pregnant.
Olivers reaction was icy. “A baby? Now? Were students, living off my parents! I thought wed have years just for us.”
“You want me to?” Her voice cracked.
“Im not ready for nappies and sleepless nights.”
She fled, running straight into Margaret in the hallway.
“Emily! Whats wrong?”
In the safety of Margarets flat, the truth spilled out.
Margarets jaw set. “Youre keeping that baby. Ill talk to him.”
By evening, Oliver apologised, though his heart wasnt in it.
After graduation, their son, Jacob, was born. Oliver grew distant, coming home late, reeking of alcoholthen perfume.
When she confronted him, he walked out without a word.
Margaret refused to let her leave. “Youll stay here. That boy needs his family. And youyoull find work, build a life. You deserve happiness.”
Five years later, Emily married a colleague, Daniel. They moved to a quiet suburb with Jacob and a baby girl. Margaret doted on her grandchildren, spending summers with them at the countryside cottage.
Against all odds, Emily had found her happiness. And Margaret? Shed been the lifeline she never knew she needed.
