**Diary Entry – 12th October**
Mum just doesn’t understand. “Emma, why on earth are you wasting your time with that troublemaker?” she keeps saying. “He’ll bring you nothing but grief, mark my words. You’ll end up heartbroken, waiting like a soldier’s wife while he lands himself in trouble!”
“But Mum, Jamie isn’t like that at all,” I protest. “He’s kind, and he loves me!”
Her lips purse. “Men like that only love when it suits them. Look at Henry instead—now there’s a decent man. You’d be safe with him. He’d take care of you.”
I glare at her. Of course she doesn’t get it. Henry’s dull as dishwater, no matter how much Mum sings his praises.
“Mum, I can’t stand Henry. He’s just… not for me.”
“Not for you?” she scoffs. “So what if he isn’t some rugged adventurer? He adores you! Give him a chance. Send that Jamie packing!”
“No, Mum. If I marry anyone, it’ll be Jamie. My mind’s made up.”
She whirls to Dad. “David, tell her she’s being ridiculous!”
Dad sighs, pushing himself off the sofa. He’s never been fond of Jamie, but he won’t interfere. “Let her figure it out, love,” he says, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Emma’s old enough to make her own choices. It’s her life, not ours.”
Mum throws her hands up in frustration, but I hug Dad, relieved.
“Thanks, Dad. It’s not like Jamie’s proposed or anything—we’re just dating.”
“Well, let’s hope he doesn’t,” Mum mutters under her breath.
I bite my tongue. No point reigniting the argument.
At twenty, I’m sure I know my own heart. Jamie’s been my whole world for years, much to Mum’s dismay. Meanwhile, Henry—my uni classmate—might as well be invisible to me, no matter how much Mum approves of him.
With Dad’s quiet blessing, I stop hiding my relationship with Jamie. He’s overjoyed. Sure, he’s got a reckless streak, and his mates are no better, but he’s different with me. He’d do anything—even change.
“Jamie, when we get married, we’ll rent a flat, yeah? Can we afford it?”
“Easy,” he grins. “Worst case, my parents will chip in. They adore you, by the way—say you’re a good influence.”
“Really?” My cheeks warm.
That conversation happens in my final year at uni. Jamie’s already working, both of us saving for the wedding. Mum flat-out refuses to help. “Find a proper man, and we’ll pay our share,” she huffs. “If you insist on this layabout, you’re on your own.”
It stings, but what can I do? Jamie’s parents, at least, are supportive—they’ve always welcomed me.
“I wish Mum didn’t hate you so much,” I sigh. “Dad’s fine with us, though. He trusts me to make my own choices.”
Jamie pulls me close. “Don’t fret, Em. She’s just worried about you. I can handle her—plenty of folks have disliked me before.”
“Like who?” I nudge him playfully.
He kisses me instead of answering. “Only ever loved you,” he murmurs.
“Always?”
“Always.”
And it’s true—he’s loved me since we were kids. We met when my family moved to the neighbourhood, and I started primary school. He used to tease me, but I gave as good as I got. That turned into friendship, then something deeper.
Back then, he was always in trouble—fighting, skipping school—but he rarely cared. Now, though? He’s straightened out. Finished college, works at a garage, earns decent money.
We marry without Mum’s help. Jamie’s doing well, leaving his wild days behind. I’m happy—even if Mum still scowls whenever he’s mentioned.
“Jamie, can we visit my parents tomorrow?” I ask, rubbing my rounded belly.
He strokes it gently. “Not now, love. Let’s wait till little Oliver’s born—then we’ll show him off. Mum and Dad want to come round soon, though.”
I nod. “Ask your mum to bake her famous pie, yeah?”
Jamie grins. “She’d love to. Spoils you rotten.”
“Your mum’s lovely,” I murmur. “She’s already doting on Oliver.”
“She’s thrilled,” he laughs.
Money’s tight sometimes—Jamie’s the only one working since I haven’t started my career yet—but he never complains. He pours everything into our little family.
Then Oliver arrives, and we’re bursting with pride. The first chance we get, we bundle him up to visit my parents. Mum’s cooked a feast, Dad’s tidied the house—he’s smitten with his grandson, though Mum still eyes Jamie warily.
“Hello, Mum!” I call as we step inside.
Jamie carries Oliver, humming to him, while I lug the nappy bag.
“Emma! Why are you carrying that?” Mum snaps. “Some husband you’ve got—never lifts a finger!”
“It’s not heavy, and Jamie’s got Oliver. Honestly, Mum…”
Jamie squeezes my arm—we agreed not to rise to her jabs. But I can’t help bristling.
“Here, let me take him,” Dad says, scooping Oliver up. “Put him on the sofa, love.”
“Since when do you handle babies?” Mum blinks. “You were terrified holding Emma as a newborn!”
“Told you I’ve been visiting,” Dad says pointedly. Mum flushes and waves us toward the dining room. “Come on, food’s ready. Emma, I made your favourite.”
Jamie tries being polite. “Smells amazing.”
Mum ignores him.
At the table, Jamie and Dad chat about work while Mum and I discuss Oliver. Then Jamie leans in—
“We’ll put Oliver in football or rugby when he’s older.”
“So he can be a troublemaker like you?” Mum sneers.
“For God’s sake, Mum!”
But Jamie just smiles. “Tell me, what exactly is wrong with me now? Bad husband? Bad provider? Don’t love Emma enough? I’ve changed. Yeah, I was wild once—but that’s over. What’s the problem?”
Silence.
Then Mum scowls. “People don’t change, Jamie. Old habits always resurface. I just feel sorry for Emma—you’ll ruin her life!”
“I’m already happy,” I interject.
“Margaret,” Dad cuts in, “how many windows did I break as a lad? I was on the police register half the time!”
“That’s different! You grew out of it!”
Jamie bursts out laughing. Even I can’t help smiling. Mum glares—until Oliver wails, and we all rush to soothe him.
…Jamie knows she’ll never fully accept him. But maybe, just maybe, she’ll soften—for Oliver’s sake, if not mine. He doesn’t need her approval, but it hurts me when they clash. And if there’s one thing Jamie can’t bear, it’s seeing me upset.
Maybe, in time, things will mend. They usually do.
