— Mum, I’m bringing my girlfriend over tonight. I want you to meet her. I’ve been dreaming of this for ages, but the timing was never right. Her little girl’s at her grandma’s today, so it’s the perfect time—those were the words James used to catch his mother, Helen, off guard in their spacious home in Bournemouth.
Helen froze, her heart clenching with worry. James was only twenty-one, and already talking about some girlfriend with a child? She knew nothing about his love life, and the news hit her like a bolt from the blue.
Helen had been widowed six years ago. Her husband, William, had died suddenly—his heart stopped at forty-three due to a blood clot. He’d been full of life, and their love had seemed unbreakable. William and Helen had been inseparable since childhood—same school, same dreams, same laughter. In primary school, he’d tugged her braids; in secondary, he’d carried her bag; and by sixth form, they’d confessed their love. At eighteen, they’d married, unable to imagine life apart.
Their marriage had been happy. They’d supported each other through studies, careers, and building a cosy home. When James turned thirteen, they’d begun dreaming of a second child, but fate had other plans. William’s death shattered their world. James, then a fifteen-year-old boy, withdrew into himself. Helen, gritting her teeth, forced herself to stay strong for him. She worked, raised him, and thought she’d succeeded—James had grown up, gone to university. Helen had breathed a sigh of relief—but it seemed she’d done so too soon.
— Mum, meet Emily. My girlfriend, said James, opening the door.
Beside him stood a tall woman with long blonde hair. Elegant, in a stylish dress and heels, she smiled, but Helen couldn’t return it. Emily was nearly her own age—a good fifteen years older than James. Helen felt everything inside her tighten, but she swallowed her emotions, greeted the guest politely, and invited her to the table.
Over dinner, Emily shared her story. She was thirty-nine, renting a flat in Bournemouth, and had moved from another town. Her daughter, Sophie, was five, attending nursery.
— You must be in shock, Emily began, giving Helen a knowing look. I’m much older than James. But age is just a number, right? When you love someone, it doesn’t matter. James and I found each other. As a woman, you understand, don’t you? She flashed a coy smile, but there was a flicker of challenge in her eyes.
Helen nodded, but doubts gnawed at her. After dinner, Emily left, and James stayed behind to talk.
— Mum, you mean everything to me. Please, try to understand. Yes, Emily’s older, but we love each other. This isn’t just some fling—it’s serious. And Sophie, her little girl, is so sweet. Mum… could they stay with us? Emily doesn’t have a place of her own, and our house is big enough. If you’re against it, I’ll understand, no hard feelings.
Helen looked at her son, her heart breaking. She wanted to protect him, to warn him, but the hope in his eyes stopped her.
— Stay, she exhaled. The most important thing is your happiness, love.
— Thanks, Mum! They’ll move in tomorrow! I knew you’d be brilliant! James hugged her and rushed off to call Emily.
Alone, Helen rang her friend, Margaret. She listened without interrupting, then said—
— Helen, this feels off. Love’s complicated, sure, but think—this woman’s got a kid with no mention of the father, no home, and your son’s a young lad with a big house. Handy, isn’t it? Nearly twenty years between them. Maybe she’s just settling in? Be careful, or you’ll wreck things with James for good.
Helen considered it. She’d tread carefully, watching Emily to gauge her intentions. The next day, Emily and Sophie moved in. The girl was lovely—shy at first, but soon showing Helen her dolls. Helen couldn’t help smiling, but unease lingered.
That evening, after putting Sophie to bed, the adults sat for tea. Helen watched James embrace Emily, feeling a stab of jealousy. In Emily’s eyes, she saw triumph—Your son’s mine now, and there’s nothing you can do. Helen tried to dismiss the thought, but it crept back like a shadow.
Late that night, she wondered—what if Emily truly loved James? Maybe it would work out. But doubt gnawed at her. In her dreams, she saw William—young again, grinning, holding out daisies, her favourite. She reached for him, but he vanished. She woke in tears at three, arms still outstretched, whispering his name.
Then it struck her. She couldn’t interfere. James was grown—he had to make his own choices. If he was wrong, he’d fix it himself. Helen dried her tears and whispered, It’ll be fine. It has to be. But deep down, she feared his choice might break their family apart.
