Tracey hurried around her small flat in Birmingham, clutching her phone as another overdue bill notification flashed on the screen. Her chest tightened with worry—how could she keep her family afloat when her daughter and son-in-law had become such a heavy burden? It all started when her eldest, 19-year-old Gemma, announced she was expecting a baby and getting married.
Tracey had once confided in her colleague, Margaret, a wise and kind woman. Margaret had raised two girls alone: Gemma, now 19, and 10-year-old Poppy. Until recently, Margaret had no complaints—Gemma was a diligent university student, Poppy excelled at school. Both were well-behaved, and Margaret took pride in them, despite the struggles of single parenthood.
But in Gemma’s second year, she met Ethan—her first love. He wasn’t from the area, but after meeting him, Margaret approved. Ethan seemed decent, sincere, not some deadbeat. Soon, the couple decided to move in together. To save on rent, they squeezed into Margaret’s already cramped three-bed semi. She’d argued—Gemma was only 19, she should finish uni, stand on her own feet—but there was no talking her out of it.
Then came the bombshell: Gemma was pregnant, and they wanted to marry. Margaret felt the ground vanish beneath her. Her daughter, barely an adult, was rushing into motherhood.
Ethan didn’t work. Like Gemma, he was a full-time student with no plans to switch to part-time. Yet they insisted on a lavish wedding, like something out of a rom-com. They booked one of Birmingham’s priciest venues, invited half the town, and Gemma demanded a designer dress fit for a celebrity. Margaret tried to reason—”I don’t have that kind of money!”—but Gemma clutched her belly, tearful: *”Mum, are you really skimping on your own grandchild?”*
Gritting her teeth, Margaret paid. She drained her rainy-day fund and took out a loan, hoping the newlyweds would snap to their senses afterward—get jobs, move out. But her hopes collapsed like a house of cards. Gemma and Ethan stayed put, making no effort to earn.
Ethan’s parents gifted them a second-hand car, so the couple buzzed around town like they were on holiday, fuel paid for by his parents—who knew their son was skint. But groceries, bills, baby clothes? All fell to Margaret. The pair didn’t even know the price of a loaf of bread. When Margaret mentioned bills, Gemma rolled her eyes: *”Mum, we’re students—what money?”*
Gemma spared no expense. She showed Margaret a catalogue with the trendiest—and priciest—pram and cot. On her modest salary, Margaret gasped. *”Gemma, I can’t afford this! I’ve got your uni loan, Poppy to raise!”*
*”Seriously?”* Gemma flared up. *”You’re going to be a grandma, and you’re penny-pinching?”*
Margaret simmered. *They* chose to have a baby, but *she* was footing the bill? She was breaking her back at work while they lived in la-la land. The student loan loomed, Poppy needed attention, and the young couple acted like life was a fairy tale.
One evening, Margaret snapped. She came home after being scolded at work for being late—she’d stopped to buy groceries for everyone—to find Gemma and Ethan giggling over a magazine, picking out a cot that cost half her wages. Poppy sat quietly drawing, while a mountain of dirty dishes towered in the kitchen.
*”Am I your maid now too?”* Margaret barked, slamming the bags down.
*”Mum, chill!”* Gemma blinked. *”We’re busy—we’re having a baby!”*
*”You’re having a baby, but I’m paying for it?”* Margaret trembled with rage. *”Enough. Get jobs or get out.”*
Gemma burst into tears, Ethan paled, but Margaret stood firm. She gave them a month to find work. *”Fail, and you’re moving in with Ethan’s parents. Let *them* bankroll you.”*
They begged, but Margaret was done. She loved Gemma, but without boundaries, they’d drown her. One night, Poppy hugged her and whispered, *”Mum, I’d never do that to you.”*
Margaret smiled through tears. For Poppy, she’d keep fighting. As for Gemma and Ethan? Reality was coming—and Margaret wouldn’t be their safety net anymore.
