An Unexpected Houseguest
Emma and James sat at the head of the table, glowing with happiness. Their wedding was in full swing—guests danced, toasts flowed like wine, and laughter filled the air. After the festivities, the newlyweds jetted off on a short honeymoon, a gift from Emma’s parents. They already had a home—a cosy little flat left to Emma by her grandmother. Small but theirs, in a nice neighbourhood, freshly done up—perfect for two. When they returned, suitcases in tow, they trudged up to their door. James slid the key into the lock—then froze. The door was bolted from the inside. Someone was in their flat! He shot Emma a bewildered look, pressed the bell, and when the door swung open, both stood stunned.
On the doorstep stood Robert, James’s father. “Dad?” James blurted. “What are you doing here?” Emma, still reeling, noticed Robert looked weary, his usual spark dimmed. “Had a row with Margaret,” he sighed. “Mind if I kip here for the night?” Flustered but kind, Emma nodded. “Of course, Robert, come in.” Inside, the flat smelled of spaghetti bolognese—Robert had raided the freezer and whipped up dinner. “Knew you’d be back today,” he added sheepishly.
Emma and James had married after a year of dating. The wedding was lively, and Emma knew James’s family well: Robert, his father; Margaret, his stepmum, who’d come into the picture when James was seven; his two aunts, Mary and Dora; and his half-sisters, Victoria and Valerie. The sisters, both heavily pregnant, had grumbled through the reception, sipping juice while glaring at the dancing guests. Emma had been polite, but the tension was obvious—Margaret and her daughters had always kept their distance, as if James were an outsider.
Over dinner, Robert explained what happened. Victoria, Margaret’s eldest, had given birth early. The baby was healthy, but Victoria’s husband had cheated, so she’d moved back in with Margaret. Margaret had demanded Robert pay for a pram and cot, accusing him of shirking his grandfatherly duties. “I’m not even the grandad,” Robert muttered. “And then she kicked me out. Took my card while I was asleep.” Emma listened, simmering with outrage. Margaret had always been domineering, but this was too much.
James scowled. “Dad, did you freeze the card?” Robert shook his head. “Didn’t think of it… She’s done it before.” Emma and James exchanged glances. They knew Margaret rented out her own flat but lived in Robert’s house—which was partly James’s, inherited from his late mother. “She wants your share, too,” Robert went on. “Asked you to sign it over.” Emma gasped. “That’s absurd! It’s yours, James!”
The next day, Margaret rang James. “You’re a grown man,” she began. “You’ve got your own life with Emma. What do you need that share for? Give it to your father.” James replied coolly, “That’s Mum’s inheritance. I’m not handing it over.” Margaret switched to threats. “If you won’t help Victoria or surrender your share, I’ll divorce Robert!” James nearly laughed. “Best news I’ve heard all year.”
He turned to Robert. “Dad, are you happy with her?” Robert hesitated, then admitted, “She’s using me. I’m tired of it.” James proposed a plan: transfer the house entirely to his name. “If Margaret stays, she stays for you. If she leaves—her choice.” Robert agreed, and the paperwork was done the next day. Emma backed James, though nervously. “What if she kicks off?” James shrugged. “Let her try.”
When Margaret found out, she stormed into the flat where Robert was still staying. “How could you?!” she shrieked. “They’ve conned you!” Robert stayed calm. “You wanted the house. Now it’s James’s. You’ve got yours. If you don’t want me, leave.” Realising she’d lost control, Margaret packed her bags and spat, “You’ll regret this!” But no one did. The divorce was swift—there was nothing left to fight over.
The house stayed with James, and Robert moved in with him and Emma. Emma insisted, “This is your home, Robert. We’re family.” Later, when they had children, they took out a mortgage and moved, leaving the old flat to Robert. Margaret tried crawling back, but Robert stood firm. “I’m finally free,” he said one evening over supper, and Emma smiled. Their family grew stronger, while Margaret was left with only what she’d chosen—empty ambition.
