**Diary Entry 15th April**
My mother-in-law, Margaret, never forgot that dreadful conversation with the woman who married my son, Oliver. Shed done everything to talk him out of the marriage, but in the end, it happened anyway. That provincial girl, Emily, had far too much nerve for her own good.
*”Listen, Margaret, spare me the wise mother act. I know you cant stand meits because I see right through you, and I wont bend to your whims. Why do you barge into our flat every evening uninvited? We dont live off your money,”* Emily had snapped back then.
*”Excuse me? You dare lecture me? Wait till youve lived as long as I have”* Margarets refined veneer cracked instantly. Beneath it was just a petty, small-minded woman whod coasted through life on the backs of others, caring only for comfort, no matter who she trampled.
*”Margaret, Oliver and I love each other. And Ive noticed how your little chats affect him. Wasnt it enough that you drove out his father and swindled him out of his share of the flat? Must you ruin his life too? If you cant love him yourself, at least let someone else try,”* Emily shot back, fearlessly.
*”Oh, so thats how it is? You little guttersnipe! Who even are you? Some nobody from godforsaken Leeds? Youll be out on the street the moment you lose your measly jobsome actress you are! And you have the nerve to tell me what to do?”* Margaret exploded.
*”Ah, so thats how you measure decency? If you con people out of their homes, youre a grand lady, but if I work for my living, Im beneath you? Not all of us latch onto husbands with property just to bleed them dry. And for the recordI know *you* werent born in London either,”* Emily struck where it hurt most. Margaret *had* come from a tiny village, once, with nothing to her name.
*”Youll never be with my son! A mother is sacred! Get out!”* Margaret screeched, having nothing else to say.
Emily just scoffed and walked away. Surprisingly, the row didnt change a thingthey married anyway.
But Margaret wasnt done. When Emily had their son, Jack, she worked tirelessly to turn Oliver against her. In the end, they divorcedJack was barely four.
Yet Margaret still feared Oliver might crawl back to that *insolent little actress*. She knew he still saw Emily, still paid child support.
What she *didnt* know was that Oliver and Emily never actually parted. They raised Jack together while Margaret believed Oliver worked in Manchester.
The plan wasnt just about Margaret. Years before the marriage, Oliver had gotten into deep troubledebts, bad business. Emily had warned him.
*”Ollie, dont do this. That bloke Richard is a shark, and youre a sitting duck. Hell chew you up without blinking,”* shed said.
*”Em, dont exaggerate. Richards solid. Men have to stick togetherthats how we survive,”* Oliver argued.
*”Hes using you. Just because he preaches brotherhood doesnt mean he wont ruin you. Decency isnt about gender,”* Emily sighed.
He ignored her. Richard made him director of a shell company, vanished with the money, and left Oliver drowning in debt.
Better to have stayed on his modest civil service wageat least it wouldnt have bankrupted them. So they hatched this scheme. Margaret was smug, thinking theyd split. The creditors believed Oliver was broke. Officially, he lived in company lodgingsbut every night, he came home to Emily and Jack.
Still, once a month, hed visit Margaret, pretending it was a work trip. Shed shove eligible brides at him, blind to the truth.
*”Why not just tell her about the debts? About *us*?”* Emily would ask.
*”No it would destroy her. Theres got to be another way,”* Oliver would mutter.
*”But how long can we hide? Some marriage this is,”* Emily sighed.
They were penniless. Most of Olivers wages went to debts. Emily scraped by on odd jobs. Sometimes, hed tell her to leave himbut she loved him.
*”Em, why put up with this? Youve got nothing but troublerenting a room, feeding him Youre not even married anymore!”* Emilys mother, Claire, a schoolteacher, begged her to come homewithout Oliver.
*”Mum, I love him. We have a son. I wont abandon him,”* Emily insisted.
Claire had raised her alone. Desperate, she decided to act.
One day, she confronted Margaret.
*”Your sons in debt. Hes still with Emily. Shes supporting him, paying his wayand hes lied to you,”* Claire said bluntly.
Margaret was livid. *”That little wretch! Lying about Manchester!”*
*”Were the older generationshouldnt we help them?”* Claire suggested splitting the debt.
*”Help him? Never! Hes grownmy dutys done!”* Margaret spat.
So Claire took them inOliver, Emily, and Jackinto her tiny flat. *”Well manage,”* she sighed.
Then Claire rang her ex-husband, David, a successful builder. *”Emily needs helpa place to live, money.”*
*”How much?”* David asked.
She named the debt, bracing for refusal.
*”Ill cover iton one condition,”* he said. *”One dinner. Just us.”*
*”If you behave,”* Claire laughed, oddly girlish.
Years later, when Jack turned eighteen, the family gatheredClaire and David, remarried; Oliver and Emily, wed again (though Claire made sure Emily owned the flat David bought first). Oliver had straightened out, working steadily.
Then the doorbell rang.
Jack answeredand there stood Margaret.
*”You invited her?”* Emily frowned.
*”Mum, she called said she was sorry,”* Jack mumbled.
*”Took you long enough,”* Claire said coolly.
*”Love, let it go. Without her, we wouldnt be here,”* David chuckled.
*”Mum, whats the point of this?”* Oliver sighed.
Margaret faltered. *”I wanted to apologise. I thought youd beg for my help. But no one came and I was alone.”*
Silence. Then someone handed her tea, pushed a plate of sandwiches her way.
None of them used posh cutlery. But in that house, there was kindness. And forgiveness.
**Lesson learned:** Pride starves the heart. Humility feeds it.
