**Diary Entry – 23rd July**
Bloody hell, my Emily’s gone and got herself tangled up with that troublemaker, Jake. I told her straight—’love, he’s bad news. You’ll end up heartbroken, mark my words. Bloke’s bound to land himself in prison sooner or later, and then where’ll you be? Playing the dutiful wife, waiting like some Victorian martyr?’
But she just dug her heels in. ‘Dad, Jake’s not like that. He’s kind, he cares for me. And he loves me!’
I swear, mothers know best. My wife, Margaret, hasn’t stopped going on about it. ‘Why not give that nice Henry a chance? Proper bloke, that one. Steady job, decent family. You’d be set for life, love.’
Emily rolled her eyes. ‘Mum, Henry’s just… not for me.’
‘Not for you? What’s wrong with him? So he’s a bit bookish—doesn’t mean he won’t make a good husband! Chuck that layabout Jake to the curb!’
‘No, Mum. I’m marrying Jake. End of.’
Margaret turned to me then, exasperated. ‘For heaven’s sake, John, talk some sense into her! Don’t just sit there!’
I dragged myself off the sofa. Truth be told, I wasn’t keen on Jake either, but Emily’s old enough to make her own mistakes. She’s got to live her life, not us.
‘Now, now, ladies. Margaret, let the girl choose who she wants. And Emily, love—just be careful. If things go south, you come to me, alright? I’ve got your back.’
My wife threw her hands up. Emily, though, squeezed me tight. ‘Thanks, Dad. We’re just dating, anyway. Jake hasn’t proposed.’
‘Good. Let’s not jinx it,’ Margaret muttered.
Emily bit her tongue—no point riling her up again.
At twenty, she thinks she’s got it all figured out. To her, Jake’s the sun and stars. Been that way for years, much to Margaret’s dismay. Meanwhile, Henry—some bloke from university—thinks the world of her, but Emily won’t give him the time of day.
After I gave my blessing, she started seeing Jake openly. He was chuffed. Yeah, he’s got a rough edge, mates to match, but he’s mad about her. Says he’d change for her, even.
‘Jake, we’ll rent a flat after the wedding, yeah? You reckon you can manage?’
‘Course I can. Mum and Dad’ll help if needed. They’re dead pleased about us, y’know. Say you’re good for me.’ He grinned.
‘Really?’ Emily went pink.
This was back when she was finishing uni. Jake had a job by then, mechanic’s apprentice, decent wage. They were saving up, but Margaret refused to chip in. ‘Find yourself a proper man, then we’ll pay. Tie yourself to that waster, and you’re on your own.’
Emily cried over that, but what could she do? We managed. Jake’s parents were sound—took to her straight away.
‘It’s so unfair, Mum hating you like this. Dad at least says I can choose. He supports me.’
Jake hugged her. ‘Don’t fret, love. She’s just protective. I’ll win her over. People’ve hated me before—I can take it.’
‘Oh yeah? Who?’ She nudged him playfully.
He kissed her. ‘Dunno. Only ever loved you anyway.’
‘Always?’
‘Always.’
And he meant it. Been smitten since primary school, back when Emily’s family moved to our neighbourhood. Started off pulling her pigtails, but she gave as good as she got. Friendship turned to courting, then something deeper.
Didn’t stop Jake from being a proper handful—fights, scrapes, the lot. But these days, he’s sorted himself out. Finished college, works hard, even saving for the wedding.
They married without our help. Margaret still scowls every time his name comes up, sure he’ll ruin Emily’s life. But the girl’s happy.
Then came little Oliver.
We visited last Sunday, first proper family gathering since the birth. Margaret had cooked a feast. I’d been sneaking over to their place for weeks, bouncing the baby on my knee, but Margaret? Still frosty.
‘Hi, Mum!’ Emily bustled in, Jake behind her, cradling Oliver like treasure.
‘Emily, love, carrying all that alone? Some husband you’ve got.’ Margaret sniffed.
‘It’s not heavy, and Jake’s got Oliver. Mum, stop.’
Jake squeezed her arm—they’d agreed not to rise to it.
I stepped in. ‘Give him here.’
‘Since when do you know your way around babies?’ Margaret blinked.
‘Told you I’ve been visiting.’
She huffed. ‘Right, well—food’s ready. Emily, made your favourite.’
‘Smells brilliant,’ Jake said, polite as ever.
Margaret ignored him.
Round the table, me and Jake chatted work. Emily and Margaret cooed over Oliver. Then Jake piped up—’reckon we’ll put him in boxing or wrestling when he’s older.’
‘So he can turn out a thug like you?’ Margaret snapped.
‘Mum, enough!’
‘Let her talk.’ Jake met her stare. ‘Tell me, what’s wrong with me now? Bad husband? Bad father? Not earning enough? Don’t love your daughter? I’ve changed. Yeah, I was a handful, but that’s done. What’s your problem?’
Silence.
Then Margaret: ‘People don’t change, Jake. Habits always come back. You’ll break her heart.’
‘But I’m happy—’ Emily started.
‘Margaret,’ I cut in, ‘how many windows did I smash as a lad? Spent half my teens in the nick’s juvenile unit.’
‘That’s different! You changed!’
Jake burst out laughing. Emily grinned. Margaret went scarlet. Then Oliver wailed, and the row was forgotten.
Jake knows she’ll never fully accept him. But he hopes—for Emily’s sake, for Oliver’s—she’ll soften. Not for him. He couldn’t care less. But it guts Emily when they bicker, and that’s what eats at him.
Maybe time’ll mend it. Maybe.
Sometimes, the hardest hearts take the longest to thaw.
