28December2025
Dear Diary,
My father, Arthur Whitaker, told me at the ripe age of seventytwo that he was going to marry his old schoolmate. I could hardly believe itseventytwo and suddenly a bride?
For two decades Arthur had lived alone since my mother, Margaret, passed away. I moved away thirty years ago when I started my own family, but I still make the pilgrimage to his stone cottage in Yorkshire every Christmas and once in the summer, taking Emily and the kids with me. Im grateful that my father is as sturdy as an oak and never complains about his health; he tends the garden and chops firewood himself, even though Emily and I are always ready to lend a hand.
A few weeks ago he rang me, voice bright, and announced it was time to bring a woman home. It turned out the lady was his former classmate, Eleanor Hughes. Theyd been close friends at the grammar school, then drifted apart after moving to different towns. Now, in their autumn years, theyd decided to stitch their lives together again. I wondered if it was a bit of a joke on the world.
When I heard about Arthurs impending wedding I told him straight away that I didnt expect the children to be on the guest list, but that didnt deter him. He and Eleanor had a modest ceremony a few months back, surrounded by a handful of old friends.
What could have been missing from his long life that he now felt the need to start anew?
The fact is, Arthurs estate is massive: a sprawling farm, acres of fields, and a historic manor house. His new wife has a brood of grandchildren and adult children who would love to lay claim to that property. I cant help but wonder whether this marriage is more about the land than about love.
Emily and I live in a threebedroom terrace in Manchester, the mortgage on which has taken half our working lives to pay off. We have two teenagers, and I always thought wed eventually pass our home on to our parents and let the younger generation inherit the Whitaker farm. Now were left wondering who will end up with what.
We havent visited Arthurs place in six months, and honestly were not eager to go after hes begun building this new chapter. Relatives keep phoning, telling us we should be glad our dad has found happiness at his age. I would be happy for him, except for the nagging thought that Eleanor might be after his assets, and that we could end up squabbling with a swarm of inlaws over the house where I spent half my life.
Im at a loss. I cant simply turn a blind eye to my father, yet I lack the strength to pretend everythings fine. What would you advise? How can I free myself from this tangled situation?
