“Happiness is hers, but we’re the ones paying for it!”
“Oh, Sophie, thank goodness I caught you at the door! Saves me going all the way upstairs,” panted Anthea Davenport, her mother-in-law, slightly out of breath.
“Hello!” Sophie replied, a little flustered at the unexpected encounter.
It wasn’t that they had a bad relationship. Anthea simply didn’t visit often, devoting all her time and energy to her daughter, Margaret.
“Sophie, lend me two hundred quid. We’re sending Maggie and little Alfie to a health retreat. One thing after another, and the prices these days are through the roof! You know how it is…” Anthea rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue.
Once again, Sophie felt her blood boil. A thousand times, she’d rehearsed the words in her head—”I’m not your cash machine!” She wanted to say it to Anthea, to Margaret, to their faces, just once and for all, to put an end to this endless begging.
But she couldn’t. Anthea was the mother of her husband, David, grandmother to their daughter, Emily. Speaking up would spark a full-blown row, ruin relationships, tear the family apart. Sophie worried about David—forcing him to choose between his wife and his mother would break him. So she stayed silent, digging into her bag for her purse.
———
Sophie trudged home in a foul mood. Another audit at work, inspectors nitpicking over every little thing, and her boss taking his frustration out on everyone. She’d stayed two hours late, stopped at the shop, and now had dinner to cook, homework to help Emily with, outfits to lay out for tomorrow… The to-do list never ended.
Exhausted, she climbed the stairs, unlocked the flat.
“Mum, hi! We’ve got this project for environmental studies tomorrow—about birds. Can you help me?” Nine-year-old Emily bounded up to her, all smiles.
“Of course, love. Let me just change, whip up dinner, then we’ll sort it.” Sophie dropped her bags in the kitchen and headed to the bedroom.
“Hey, Soph, didn’t hear you come in. Work trouble again?” David asked, glancing up from the telly.
“Same old. Another audit. The usual chaos.” She waved a hand dismissively.
“Listen, I sent Mum two hundred. They needed it for Alfie’s new spring coat.”
“David, when does this stop?! Alfie’s got a father—why can’t *he* sort this? Why are their problems always dumped on us?” Sophie’s voice rose despite herself.
“Soph, don’t get worked up. You know how it is…”
“How *what* is, David?!” She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to shout.
“Maggie still can’t find work, her ex won’t pay child support, Mum gives them most of her pension… It won’t kill us to buy the kid a coat. We both work, don’t we?”
“That’s exactly it, David! We *both* work! So why do *we* have to shortchange our own child to prop up another family? Explain that to me!” Heat flooded her face.
“Soph, let’s not fight over this. Come on, I’ll help with dinner.”
———
Margaret was David’s younger sister. Five years ago, she’d married a “successful entrepreneur,” Jeremy.
“Oh, Maggie and Jeremy are off to Spain again! Staying in such a posh hotel!” Anthea never missed a chance to gloat.
Then came the truth—Jeremy and Maggie had maxed out credit cards for their lavish lifestyle. The money vanished, and the chaos began.
They bickered over who’d spent what, who owed whom. By the time the truth surfaced, payments were overdue—bank calls, legal threats. Jeremy solved his problems neatly—he vanished, rumoured to be in Scotland now.
But the “entrepreneur’s wife” was left with debts and a toddler. Anthea paid some from her pension, leaving barely enough for herself, Margaret, and Alfie.
Naturally, they turned to Sophie and David.
“Prices are going up like crazy,” Anthea sighed, arriving for yet another handout.
They helped, cutting back on their own needs. It was only fair—family in trouble, how could they say no?
Sophie finally snapped when she spotted Margaret sipping coffee in a café, nibbling on pastries.
“Mags, what are you doing here?” Sophie stood frozen, lunch with colleagues forgotten.
“What does it look like? Popped in for a bite. Problem?”
“We’re giving you money, and you’re splurging on cafés?!”
“Oh, so you get to eat out, but I can’t?” Margaret pouted.
That evening, Anthea unleashed a torrent of accusations—ungrateful, selfish, *how dare* Sophie humiliate poor Maggie, still reeling from her divorce.
“Anthea, I don’t care if she eats out! But she needs a job first—then she can feast every day at The Ritz!”
“Mum, Sophie’s right,” David cut in. “Alfie’s old enough for nursery—Maggie should work.”
“Nursery?! Are you mad? He’s always poorly! I won’t have strangers raising him!” Anthea burst into tears.
“All kids go! Emily started at eighteen months—she was fine.”
“Fine then! We don’t need your money! I’ll get a job myself before I let you insult my family!” Anthea stormed out, slamming the door.
Silence followed. No calls, no visits, no demands. David fretted, but Sophie insisted—Margaret wasn’t a child. She needed to face reality: chase child support, get a job, sort childcare.
David agreed—in theory. The problem? Margaret *wouldn’t*. And Anthea enabled her.
———
Then, at the shopping centre, they bumped into Margaret, Anthea, and Alfie, laden with shopping bags.
“Maggie’s got a proper job now! Doing *so* well!” Anthea smirked.
“Brilliant! About time!” David beamed.
Sophie forced a smile. “Really happy for you, Mags.”
Margaret preened, flashing her brand-new phone.
The joy was short-lived.
Turned out, Margaret had conned them all—opened a new credit card, spent wildly, missed payments. The cycle repeated—bank calls, tears, pleas for help.
Sophie and David caved—again. Margaret swore she’d turn her life around, repay every penny. Weeks passed. Nothing changed.
———
“Sophie, darling! Perfect timing—saves me climbing the stairs!”
“Hello, Anthea.”
“Lend us two hundred? Maggie and Alfie are off to that retreat, and the costs—mercy!”
Sophie looked at her, fury simmering—then reached for her purse.
“Look, Anthea—we’re skint too!” She flipped open her empty wallet.
Anthea gaped.
“Sophie, is this some sort of joke?! You’re trying to shame us?”
“Not at all! We’ve just kitted Emily out for winter, sorted David’s clothes, paid the car repair! Where d’you think spare cash comes from?! We haven’t had a holiday in years because we’re bankrolling you—and *Maggie* swans off to a retreat?!”
“You vile, scheming cow!” Anthea hissed, stomping off.
“Exactly!” Sophie muttered, heading inside.
David got the full story. Silence resumed—for three weeks.
Then Anthea called:
“Maggie’s met a man at the retreat—Paul Oakley, a *businessman*. He’s given her a job! Fresh start!”
“Fantastic! What’s the job? Who is he?” David asked.
Sophie froze.
“David, my boss knows Oakley—he’s a con artist. Shell companies, debts everywhere.”
David rang Margaret.
“Keep your nose out!” she snapped. “Don’t ruin my happiness!”
They backed off—but agreed: this time, they *wouldn’t* foot the bill for her “happiness.” No matter what.
