Emily Taylor

**Thursday, 14th September** In a quiet market town near Canterbury, where the scent of fresh hay mingles

“I was watching her all through dinner,” I said to myself—this girl just doesn’t seem right

In a small town near Manchester, where old cottages nestle among apple orchards, my life at thirty-two

In a quiet town near Oxford, where ivy-clad cottages nestle between blooming hawthorns, my life at thirty-two

“I spent the whole dinner watching her”—my future daughter-in-law isn’t right for my son. In a quiet

“Oh no, Thomas, your mother will not live with us”—I gave my husband an ultimatum. In a quiet village

“Oh, no, James, your mum is not going to live with us” — I gave my husband an ultimatum.

“I spent the whole dinner watching that girl” — my future daughter-in-law isn’t right for my son.

“Oh no, Thomas, your mother is not moving in with us,” I gave my husband an ultimatum.

In a quaint little town nestled in the Cotswolds, where charming cottages peek through apple orchards