Mum, why on earth do you want that troublemaker? He’s not going to give you anything good in life! Oh, you’ll cry buckets over him, mark my words. He’ll end up in prison for sure! You’ll waste years waiting for him like some lovesick fool, won’t you?
Mum, don’t say that! Jamie’s not a troublemaker. He’s kind and caring. And he loves me!
That sort only loves you when it suits them! Forget about him. Why not give Henry a chance? Now there’s a proper husband for you. He’d be your rock—trust me, I know what I’m talking about.
Lydia scowled at her mother, who just didn’t—and wouldn’t—understand.
Mum, I don’t fancy Henry. He’s just…
Just what? Alright, he might not look like some rugged hero, but he adores you! Give him a chance! And send that useless Jamie packing!
No, Mum. I’m only marrying Jamie. That’s final.
Steven, will you please tell your daughter she’s making a mistake? Anne shot her husband a look. Why are you just sitting there?
Steven heaved himself off the sofa and wandered over to the two women bickering in the kitchen. He wasn’t Jamie’s biggest fan, but he wasn’t about to meddle in Lydia’s love life. She was old enough to make her own choices—good or bad. After all, it was her life, not theirs.
What’s all this fuss about? Anne, let her date who she wants. And Lydia, just be careful. If things go pear-shaped, you come to me. I’ll help however I can. Got it?
Anne threw her hands up in despair, while Lydia beamed and flung her arms around her dad.
Thanks, Dad! Jamie hasn’t even proposed yet—we’re just dating.
Good. Let’s hope he never does, Anne muttered under her breath.
Lydia bit her tongue, refusing to poke the bear any further.
At twenty, she was certain she knew best—Mum just didn’t get it. Jamie had been the centre of her universe for years, which drove Anne absolutely spare. Meanwhile, Henry—Lydia’s uni mate—was Anne’s pet favourite, though Lydia couldn’t have been less interested.
With her dad’s approval, Lydia stopped hiding her relationship with Jamie. He was over the moon. Sure, Jamie had a bit of a wild streak, and his mates weren’t much better, but he was head over heels for Lydia and would’ve moved mountains for her. Even cleaned up his act.
Jamie, we’ll rent a flat after we’re married, yeah? You reckon you can manage it?
’Course. Worst case, my folks’ll help. They’re dead chuffed about us, actually. Say you’re a good influence. He grinned.
Really? Lydia blushed, torn between embarrassment and delight.
This chat happened during Lydia’s final year at uni. Jamie was already working, and they were both saving up for the wedding. Anne, of course, refused to contribute unless Lydia ditched Jamie. Steven kept quiet but secretly slipped his daughter some cash now and then.
Find yourself a decent bloke first, then we’ll pay our share, Anne sniffed. But if you shack up with that layabout, you’re on your own.
Lydia cried from sheer frustration, but there was no changing her mum’s mind.
Luckily, Jamie’s parents were far more welcoming.
I hate how Mum treats you. At least Dad said I can make my own choices. He’s not standing in my way—he’s even supportive.
Jamie pulled her close and tilted her chin up.
Don’t stress, Lyd. Your mum’s just looking out for you. I can handle her. Plenty of folks have disliked me before—what’s one more?
And who ever disliked you? She nudged him playfully.
Well… He kissed her. Let’s just say you’re the only one who’s ever mattered.
Always?
Always.
It was true. He’d fancied her since they were kids, ever since Lydia’s family moved into the neighbourhood. At first, he’d teased her mercilessly—until she gave as good as she got. That’s how their friendship started, then turned into something deeper.
Not that it stopped Jamie from getting into scrapes—something he occasionally regretted but mostly shrugged off.
Now, though, he’d knuckled down. Finished college, got a proper job at a garage, and was earning decent money.
They married without Anne’s help. Jamie had made a name for himself at work and left his wilder days behind. Lydia was happy, though Anne still treated her son-in-law with thinly veiled contempt, convinced her daughter was doomed with this good-for-nothing.
Jamie, let’s visit my parents tomorrow? Lydia wrapped her arms around him.
He stroked her round belly gently.
Lyd, love, maybe not yet? You don’t need the stress. Once little Oliver’s here, we’ll go—give ’em a grandchild to fuss over. Speaking of, my mum and dad want to pop round soon.
Alright. Ask your mum to bake that amazing pie of hers, yeah?
Jamie grinned.
She’ll be chuffed to. Adores spoiling you.
Yeah, your mum’s lovely. Lydia rubbed her belly. She’s already doting on this one—says she’ll fatten him up proper.
Let her fuss, Jamie laughed.
Money was tight sometimes—they even scraped by on credit once or twice. Lydia hadn’t worked after uni, so Jamie shouldered everything. But the former troublemaker never complained. He’d do anything for his wife.
Time flew, and soon Oliver arrived. Thrilled, the new parents were eager to show him off. The minute Jamie had a day off, they went to Lydia’s parents. Anne had been at the hospital, of course, but Lydia missed them—and it’d been a month since they’d last seen their grandson. Everyone was eager.
Anne had cooked up a storm, while Steven tidied the house. He couldn’t wait to see Oliver, often dropping by to help with the baby—unlike Anne, who still couldn’t stand her son-in-law.
Hi, Mum! The couple burst in, Jamie proudly cradling Oliver while Lydia juggled a nappy bag.
Lydia! Carrying all that alone? What sort of husband lets you—
Mum, the bag’s not heavy, and Jamie’s holding Oliver. Stop it.
Jamie touched her arm and shook his head. They’d agreed not to rise to Anne’s bait—but Lydia couldn’t help it when her husband was insulted.
Steven swooped in. Here, give him here.
Put him on the sofa, Dad, Lydia said. I’ll settle him in a sec.
Blimey, since when do you know how to handle babies? Anne looked stunned. You were terrified holding Lydia as a tot!
Told you I’ve been visiting, Steven said pointedly.
Anne flushed. Right, well… Come on, then—food’s ready! Lydia, I made your favourite.
Smells brilliant, Jamie said politely.
Anne ignored him. He sighed and followed Lydia to the table.
Soon, they were all chatting away—Steven and Jamie talking work, Lydia and Anne gushing over Oliver. Then Jamie chimed in:
We’ll put Oliver in football or rugby when he’s older.
What, so he turns out a troublemaker like you? Anne couldn’t resist.
Mum! Enough.
Let her say her piece. Jamie met Anne’s gaze steadily. Am I a bad husband? A bad dad? Do I not provide? Not love my wife? I’ve changed. Yeah, I was a handful, but that’s done with. What’s the problem now?
Silence. Anne wasn’t backing down.
Jamie, people don’t change. Sooner or later, old habits return. I just feel sorry for my daughter—you’ll ruin her life!
Mum, I’m happy—
Anne, Steven cut in, how many windows did I smash as a lad? I was on the police’s radar before I could shave!
That’s different! You changed!
Jamie burst out laughing. Even Lydia smirked. Anne went scarlet—just as Oliver wailed, derailing the argument.
…Jamie knew Anne might never warm to him, but he hoped, for Lydia and Oliver’s sake, she’d soften a little. He didn’t need her approval—but it hurt Lydia when they clashed. And he couldn’t stand seeing his wife upset. Still, who knew? Maybe things would get better. Not today. But in time. Time had a way of sorting these things out.
