At long last… or perhaps it was only the beginning.
When Emily married, she could never have imagined that her future husband, Thomas, was already a prisoner to his ruinous vice. Their courtship had been swift—a whirlwind that swept her off her feet—and within weeks, he proposed, his breath thick with the stale tang of ale.
“Em, love, what d’you say we tie the knot?” he slurred, leaning heavily against the doorframe.
“You’ve had one too many, haven’t you?” she murmured, more startled than cross. Still, she fancied being a wife—all her friends already had their rings.
“Aye, for joy,” Thomas chuckled, “this is a celebration!”
“I’ll say yes… on one condition: no more drinking except on holidays,” she warned.
“Well, good thing today’s a holiday,” he jested.
Young, naïve, and smitten—Emily never knew Thomas’s father had spent his life deep in his cups. Nor that his son had long followed suit. His mother, Margaret, could only wring her hands in despair.
“You’re drowning yourself, and now you’re drowning him too!”
“Let the lad be a man,” his father would sneer, pouring Thomas another drink at supper.
After the wedding, they settled into Emily’s tiny flat, left to her by her gran. At first, things were tolerable. Thomas worked, came home regularly—though often reeking of the pub. There was always an excuse.
“Jake’s got a new bairn—had to wet its head! Robbie’s birthday, couldn’t skip a toast… Old Bill shared a bottle at his cottage—no refusing that.”
Then their son, William, was born. But fatherhood did nothing to sober Thomas. He came home less and less, avoiding the child entirely.
“Why won’t you even speak to him?” Emily pleaded.
“You’re the one who says not to breathe on him with ale on my breath,” he’d mutter.
“Then stop drinking! How much longer can this go on?” Tears streaked her cheeks.
Eight years passed. Ale had become as much a part of Thomas as his own shadow. Jobs slipped through his fingers like sand. Emily bore it all herself, though Margaret helped—buying clothes for the boy, slipping her shillings when needed.
“Emily’s pure gold,” Margaret confided to her sister. “But my son… he’s fading. I don’t know him anymore.”
Thomas was a ghost of the man he’d been—sunken, toothless, without a spark left. No love, no care—just emptiness.
“Leave him,” urged everyone—friends, coworkers, even neighbors.
But Emily pitied him. Like a stray dog. Until she realised William was growing up, watching, absorbing—and he no longer wanted to step foot in a home that reeked of sorrow.
Then she told Margaret, “I can’t do this anymore. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Maybe he could be helped?” Margaret whispered. “Maybe it’s not too late?”
“How long did you try with his father?” Emily gave a bitter laugh. “I want my son to be different. Better he never sees his father again.”
Margaret sighed. “Then he’ll come to us. What else can I do?”
But there was another reason. Emily had long fancied a colleague—Daniel. New to their department, he was sharp and fair-haired, with piercing blue eyes and a courtesy rare in these times. Divorced, without a fuss, he’d moved from Yorkshire to be near his father. The women at work—some boldly, some silently—tried to catch his eye, but Daniel kept his distance.
When Emily finally filed, Thomas barely blinked. His bags at the door, a short exchange—and he was gone, back to his parents.
Two weeks later, Daniel stopped her after work.
“Emily, fancy a cuppa? Just for a chat.”
She nodded, cheeks pink. Over tea, between laughter and quiet words, he said, “I knew it the moment I saw you. You’re not just a colleague. You’re my future.”
From that night, everything changed. There were whispers at the office—especially from Lydia.
“Well, well, our quiet one’s nabbed Daniel… And here I was, trying so hard.”
Emily only shrugged. Some things needed no explaining.
Then, Daniel proposed. A simple ring, a steady gaze, and her heart leapt anew.
On Saturday, she invited Margaret over. The flat smelled of warm scones, steam rising from the teapot.
“I’ve news,” Emily said, pulse fluttering. “I’m getting married. To Daniel.”
Margaret froze. Then—she pulled Emily into a tearful embrace.
“At long last… Love, you’ve earned this happiness. I’ll help with the wedding—we’ll make it the grandest ever!”
As they sat planning dresses, flowers, and guests, Emily knew she hadn’t just kept her former mother-in-law—she’d gained a friend. And Margaret? She’d found the daughter she’d never borne, but welcomed wholly in her heart.
