**Diary Entry A Mothers Hope**
My neighbour stopped me the other day. “Margaret, is your son married now? I saw him with a woman and a little boy. Has he taken on someone elses child?” she asked, her tone laced with judgement.
I was taken aback. “Not married yet, but Id be happy if he were,” I replied.
The news surprised me. My son, James, still lived with me, and marriage was the last thing on his mind.
When I got home, I asked him, “James, someone mentioned seeing you with a woman and a child. Are you seeing someone?”
He sighed. “Bloody busybodies, always sticking their noses in. I didnt want to say anything. Shes got a child, so its nothing serious. Emilys a widowher husband died two years ago, and shes raising her son alone. We met through work, and things just happened. Dont worry, I wont be bringing her home.”
“And here I was, getting my hopes up,” I said. “Whats wrong with her having a child?”
“Im not raising someone elses kid. I want my own.”
“Shell have yours too, then. Youre 34, James. How much longer will you play the bachelor?”
“Im still young, Mum. Are you wishing misery on me?”
“Misery? Whats miserable about starting a family? Thats happiness, son.”
James owned a flat but preferred living with me, renting his place out to save for a new car. It suited himI cooked, did his laundry, made life easy. The women he dated, upon learning he lived with his mother, never pushed for marriage. Just as he liked it. A bit of fun, then gone.
He never mentioned his flat, meeting women on their turf or in hotels. This arrangement worked for him.
One evening, walking home from work, I spotted James with Emily. They strolled leisurely along the pavement. She was petite, with long blonde hair, quite lovely. I wondered about herId have liked to meet her.
Fate intervened. I bumped into her outside the shops.
“Excuse me, are you Emily? Ive seen you with my son, James. Im Margaret.”
“Hello. Yes, Im Emily. I know James well Pleasure to meet you, Margaret. He mentioned living with you.”
“Fancy a coffee and a chat?” I suggested.
We settled into a cosy café, and I listened as she spoke. Her son, Alfie, was five. Her husband had died in a car crash two years prior. His parents had sold the flat theyd lived init was in his mothers nameand left Emily and Alfie with nothing. No family of her own, just a grandmother whod passed, leaving her a small cottage shed sold to put a deposit on a flat. She worked as a sales manager. A hard life, but she spoke calmly, without self-pity.
I liked her instantly.
“James never spoke of you,” I admitted. “Id have loved to meet you sooner.”
“Probably worried youd disapprovea woman with baggage. Or maybe hes just not ready. But were happy as we are.”
“Emily, pleasebring Alfie and visit us. Id love that.”
She agreed, and that Saturday, they came. James sulked, but even he softened. Watching them, I thought, *If only theyd marry, give me a granddaughter*
After that, Emily and Alfie visited often, even when James wasnt home. We grew closeshopping, chatting over wine. I hoped James would propose. She was perfect.
Then, silence. Emily stopped answering my calls.
“James, whats wrong? Why wont Emily answer?”
“Weve split. Dont ask.”
“What? Why? Everything was fine!”
“Alfies ill. Needs expensive treatment. Shes panicking, probably expects me to help. Well, I wont. Easier to walk away.”
I stared, horrified. “Youd abandon her in her hardest moment? For fear of helping her son? Youre a disgrace.”
“Disgrace? Why should I pay for some strangers kid? I feel sorry for him, but its not my problem. Emilys toughshell manage.”
“Youve got money saved for a car! A car over a childs life? Have you no heart?”
“Spare me the lecture, Mum.”
He left. I sank into a chair, sickened. How had we raised such a cold, selfish man?
I had savingsmodest, but enough. I withdrew them the next day and took them to Emily.
“Please, let me help Alfie.”
“You dont have towere nothing to you.”
“Youre family to me. Take it. And Im sorry for my son.”
She accepted, grateful.
That night, I told James, “Pack your things. Go live in your flat. I wont share a roof with you.”
“Wow. Over *her*? Youd choose a stranger over your own son?”
“Im ashamed of you. God knows what my old age will be like with you.”
He left, slamming the door. My heart ached. My only sonand this was who hed become.
A charity helped cover Alfies treatment, and he recovered. I stayed close, visiting often. James and I spoke little. Emily never mentioned him.
Then, I noticedEmily was wearing loose dresses.
“Emily, forgive me for asking Are you pregnant?”
She nodded. “Five months. I hid it from Jamesafraid hed think I trapped him. I nearly had an abortion but couldnt go through with it. Its a girl. Ill manage.”
“Emily, Im *thrilled*! A granddaughtermy dream! Ill help, I promise!”
The pregnancy was smooth, the birth uncomplicated. A healthy girlAlice. The spitting image of James.
*Oh, son. Such happiness, and youre missing it.*
One day, James saw me pushing a pram.
“Mum, since when do you babysit? Need money?”
“I dont need a thing from you.”
He peered into the pram, then froze.
Emily arrived just then. “Hello, James.”
He looked between us. “Is this *your* child? Did you remarry? Whos the father?”
“She has a mother. Thats enough.”
“And a grandmother,” I added. “James, shes *yours*.”
He paled. “Mine? And you kept it from me?”
Without another word, he walked away.
Days later, he went to Emilys, offering money. She refused, still hurt.
Five years passed.
I had a stroke. Emily and the children moved in to care for me. Alfie read to me, little Alice brought meals. They adored me.
James remained in his flat, visiting occasionally. Polite but distant. Alice knew he was her father but shied from him.
I signed the house over to Emily, to pass to Alice later.
“Emily, how lucky I was to meet you. Now Ive two beloved baggageAlfie and Alice. Youve made me so happy.”
Never could I have imagined this gentle woman would become like a daughter to meor that my own son would grow into a stranger.
Life has a way of surprising us.
