“I’ll be there, Mum,” replied William, not looking up from his paper. The article about pension increases made no sensethe words blurred before his eyes. Too many thoughts swirled in his head after yesterday’s conversation with Emily.
Margaret entered the room carrying a tray with two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. Her son didnt even glance up. She set his tea on the side table and 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, never taking her eyes off him. At sixty-four, she stood tall, and her sharp gaze betrayed a woman who always got to the truth.
“William James,” she said sternly, using his full name as she had when he was a child in trouble, “stop dodging. I saw you talking to that… whats her name… Emily yesterday by the front door.”
William choked on his tea. His mother had a knack for catching him off guard.
“Mum, what does Emily have to do with anything?”
“Dont play daft. Ive raised you for thirty-five yearsyou think I dont know when somethings weighing on you?” She set her cup down with a sharp clink. “Out with it. What are you planning?”
He stood and walked to the window. Late autumn had stripped the trees bare, and the same emptiness gnawed at himwhether from the impending conversation or knowing his mother was right about his intentions.
“I want to marry her,” he said without turning.
The silence stretched so long he finally looked back. His mother sat rigid, hands folded in her lap, wearing an expression he remembered from childhoodthe one before a serious talk.
“Son, dont marry a girl with nothing,” she said flatly. “Im begging you.”
The words stung more than he expected. Not because they surprised himhe knew his mother disliked Emilybut hearing it aloud was harder.
“Mum, whats money got to do with it? I love her.”
“Love, love,” she sighed, shaking her head. “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, went to the cabinet, and pulled out a photo album. Flipping through, she jabbed a finger at a picture.
“Lookyour father and me, young and in love. Know what came next?”
William knew the story but let her continue.
“We lived in a cramped flat on his wages alone. I couldnt workyou were small, then your sister came. Money ran out by the twentieth of the month. Borrowing from neighbours, eating potatoes and carrots for days. Remember how your father snapped at us?”
“I remember,” he said quietly. “But times are different now.”
“Times change, people dont.” She shut the album and sank back into her chair. “Poverty eats love like rust. First, you argue over trifleshe wants meat, but theres only 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 does? When she sees how her friends live? When your kids need school uniforms you cant afford?”
William returned to his chair, picking up his cold tea. Her words hit hard because they were true. Hed lain awake thinking the same.
“So what do you suggest? Stay single forever?”
“Find a proper girl. Educated, with a decent job. Remember Tanya Wilkins? Works at a bank nowgood pay, smart, pretty.”
“Mum, Im not applying for a job. Im getting married.”
“Stop being romantic,” she cut in. “At your age, its time to think with your head, not your heart. Youre thirty-fivetoo old for Romeo and Juliet.”
William winced. She always knew where to jab.
“So happiness only comes with money?”
“Not *with* money, but never *without* it.” She stood, gathering the cups. “Fine, I wont argue. Youre a grown manfigure it out yourself. Just remember my words when life gets hard.”
Alone, William found no peace. Her warnings looped in his mind. He reached for his phone to call Emily but stopped. What would he say? How explain his mothers disapproval?
That evening, Emily called first.
“Hey, how are you? You seemed off yesterday.”
“Just tired,” he lied.
“I saw the loveliest dress today,” she said, voice dreamy. “In that boutique near the park. Blue, gorgeous. A bit pricey, though…”
Something twisted in his chest. Coincidence? Or proof his mother was rightwas Emily already hinting at expenses?
“How much?” he asked, keeping his tone even.
“Three hundred pounds. I know its steep, but its stunning… And the office partys coming up.”
Half his monthly wage. He swallowed hard.
“Well see,” he said vaguely.
“Youre upset,” she said, worry creeping in. “Im not demanding itjust sharing.”
“No, its fine. Just thinking.”
After hanging up, he stared at the wall. Emily hadnt demanded the dressjust shared a wish. But three hundred pounds… That could feed them for a month. Or go toward a wedding.
Wedding plans led to more calculations. A one-bed flatat least eight hundred a month. His museum salary: twelve hundred. Hers at the library: nine hundred. Total: two thousand one hundred. Minus rent: thirteen hundred left. Food, transport, clothes, medicine… God forbid someone fell ill.
At breakfast, his mother acted normalserving porridge, sipping coffee, asking about his day. But her gaze lingered, waiting for him to admit she was right.
“Mum, how did you and Dad meet?” he asked suddenly.
She raised her brows. “Never told you? University. He was a year aheadhandsome, clever. All the girls fancied him.”
“What drew you to him?”
She stirred her coffee, thoughtful.
“Honestly? His looks first. Then his seriousness. He had big planswanted to be an engineer, earn well, support a family.”
“And did he?”
“At first. Landed a good job after uni. Then the firm closed, 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.”
“Would you have married him if hed been poor from the start?”
“Dunno,” she admitted. “At twenty, you think love conquers all. At forty, you know better.”
William ate in silence. Her words sat heavily, impossible to refute.
At work, he couldnt focus. Guiding tours, reciting facts about ancient relics while modern problems consumed him. His colleague, Martha, noticed.
“Whats up, Will? Youre miles away.”
“Just personal stuff.”
“Ah. Woman trouble,” she smirked. “You and Emily serious, then?”
“We are,” he said, though his certainty had wavered since his mothers talk.
“She work?”
“Library.”
“Ah,” Martha drawled knowingly. “Well, the pays… Ever thought of switching jobs? Private museums pay better.”
“Ive looked. They want experience with wealthy clients, languages…”
“Right. Got it.”
As she walked off, William dwelled on her tone. Not 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. Prettydark hair, grey eyes, delicate featuresbut dressed plainly. Jeans years old, a faded jumper.
“You know,” she said suddenly, “I calculated our living costs if we married.”
He tensed.
“And?”
“If we rent a one-bed on the outskirts, well manage. Tight, but together.”
Her trusting smile shamed his doubts. Emily didnt crave luxuries. Shed live humbly just to be with him.
“What about children?” he asked. “How raise them on that?”
“Like everyone does,” she shrugged. “Mum raised my brother and me on a cleaners wage. We turned out fine.”
He recalled her childhoodcouncil flat, second-hand clothes, the library her only escape. Did he want that for his kids?
“Dont you want more?” he ventured. “A house? A car? Holidays?”
She pondered.
“Course I do. But if notIll cope. As long as Ive got you.”
Walking her home, he stayed quiet. She clung to his hand, equally silent. At her door, she turned.
“Youre hiding something. Whats wrong?”
“Nothing. Just… Mums against us.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “She thinks I
