**Diary Entry – 12th October**
My in-laws abandoned my mum at a restaurant to avoid paying the billbut she had a brilliant revenge planned.
Theyve always considered settling the cheque beneath them, as if it might tarnish their precious “reputation.” Every family dinner became the same absurd performancepatting their pockets, feigning shock, swearing theyd left their wallets at home. At first, I gave them the benefit of the doubt. But soon, it was clear: pure greed. They simply assumed the “less fortunate” would cover them.
Not my mum, though. She doesnt fall for tricks. She doesnt own designer handbags or flashy jewellery, but shes proud, sharp, and refuses to be walked over by people who think money makes them superior.
Yet, despite their wealth, one habit drove me madthey never paid their share.
*”They did it again,”* I complained to my husband, Mark, after his parents slipped out while he was in the loo, leaving us with a £250 bill. *”Your dad actually pretended to get a phone call!”*
Mark sighed and pulled out his card. *”I know, I know. Theyve always been like this.”*
*”But theyve more money than sense! Your mums handbag costs more than our rent!”*
*”Ive tried talking to them. To them, its pocket changethey dont see the issue.”*
It became routine: fine dining, expensive wine, and the same excuses.
*”Oh dear, Ive forgotten my purse!”* his mother would gasp, patting her designer clutch.
*”Urgent call,”* his dad would mutter, bolting for the door.
Even Marks brother, Oliver, and his wife, Emily, had mastered the art of the “family tradition”vanishing when the bill arrived. No one dared call them out.
Then came the invitation.
*”Mum wants to celebrate her 60th at that Italian place in Mayfair,”* Mark told me one evening. *”Full family affair.”*
*”When?”* I asked, already feeling my wallet shrink.
*”Next Friday. Good newswell be away on our anniversary trip to Spain. But since we cant go, theyve invited your mum.”*
I froze. *”My mum? Why?”*
*”Said she wants to get to know her better.”*
I knew it was a trap. My mother-in-law had never shown interestif anything, shed sneered that they had *”nothing in common.”* It was obvious. But our holiday was non-refundable.
*”Ill warn Mum,”* I said, grabbing my phone.
She answered on the third ring. *”Hello, love! How are you?”*
*”Mum, Marks parents want you at his mums birthday dinner”*
*”Yes! She texted earlier. Im looking forward to it!”*
My stomach dropped. *”Mum, listenthey always ditch the bill.”*
I spilled everythingtheir tricks, their vanishing acts. But Mum just laughed. *”Oh, dont fret, darling.”*
*”Mum, theyll order the finest champagne and vanish!”*
*”Ill handle it,”* she said calmly. *”Enjoy your holiday.”*
I hung up, turning to Mark. *”Shes walking right into it.”*
*”Maybe theyll behave,”* he offered weakly. *”Its her birthday.”*
We exchanged glances. Neither of us believed it.
That evening, we were at a cosy hotel three hours away. I kept checking my phone, expecting a frantic call. Nothing. Just a text the next morning: *”Lovely evening. Call when youre back.”*
By Sunday, I demanded details.
*”Well?”* I blurted. *”What happened?”*
*”It was interesting,”* Mum began.
True to form, my in-laws arrived like royalty. The best table, garden view, live pianist.
*”They ordered everythingtruffle starters, vintage wine, Wagyu steak with gold leaf.”*
*”And you?”*
*”Just pasta and water. No appetite.”* Clever girl. Damage control.
*”Then?”*
*”Cue the performance. Your mother-in-law forgot her purse. Your father-in-law left his wallet in the car. Oliver got a call from the nanny. One by one, they vanished. Left me with a £1,200 bill.”*
*”Mum! You didnt pay?!”*
*”Of course not,”* she said smoothly. *”I ordered dessert.”*
*”WHAT?!”*
*”Chocolate soufflé. And the most expensive port. The waiter raised an eyebrow, but I smiled. Were celebrating.”*
I was speechless.
*”If you didnt pay, how did it end?”*
*”I asked for the manager. Robbie. Remember him?”*
*”Robbie? From your old school?”*
*”The very one. Used to bring me apples every morning. Now he owns three restaurants.”*
Mum taught for 30 years. Half of Londons elite were her former students.
*”We had a chat. He laughed, then called your in-laws. Very politely informed them theyd forgotten to pay. Suggested they returnor hed involve the police.”*
*”He said that outright?!”*
*”On speakerphone. Your father-in-law stammered about a cashpoint. Robbie just said, Lovely. Well wait.”*
*”Did they come back?”*
*”Like scalded cats!”* Mum laughed. *”Your mother-in-law was white as a sheet. What could they say? Caught red-handed.”*
*”And the bill?”*
*”Robbie added 25% for inconvenience. Over £1,500 total.”*
I howled with laughter. *”Mum, youre a legend!”*
*”The best part?”* she added. *”This morning, your mother-in-law rang me: Just so you know, we always pay our share.”*
*”The audacity!”*
*”Some people only learn the hard way. A costly lesson, Id say.”*
And it worked. Months later, at every dinner, my mother-in-law announces loudly:
*”Separate bills tonight, please!”*
Waiters nod, confused. Mark and I share a knowing smile.
**Lesson learnt: Pride comes before a falland sometimes, its deliciously expensive.**
