The Unexpected Guest
Eleanor and James sat at the head of the table, glowing with joy. Their wedding was in full swing—guests danced, toasts flowed freely. After the celebration, the newlyweds set off on a short honeymoon, a gift from Eleanor’s parents. They already had a home: a cosy flat left to them by Eleanor’s grandmother. Small but their own, in a good neighbourhood, freshly refurbished—perfect for the two of them. Returning from their trip, they lugged their suitcases up to their door. James slid the key into the lock but froze—the door was bolted from the inside. Someone was in their flat! He shot Eleanor a puzzled look, pressed the bell, and when the door swung open, both stood stunned.
On the threshold stood Edward Whitmore, James’s father. “Dad?” James blurted. “What are you doing here?” Eleanor, still reeling, noticed Edward looked weary, his eyes dull. “Had a row with Margaret,” he sighed. “Mind if I stay the night?” Flustered, Eleanor nodded. “Of course, Edward, come in.” The flat smelled of spaghetti bolognese—Edward had rummaged through the freezer and cooked dinner. “Knew you’d be back today,” he added sheepishly.
Eleanor and James had married after a year of courtship. The wedding had been lively, and Eleanor already knew James’s family well: Edward, his father; Margaret, his stepmother, who’d entered the picture when James was seven; his aunts, Mary and Dorothy; and his two half-sisters, Victoria and Valerie. The sisters, both pregnant, had grumbled at the wedding, sourly sipping juice while envying the merry guests. Eleanor had been polite but sensed the tension—Margaret and her daughters always held themselves apart, as if James were a stranger.
Over dinner, Edward explained what had happened. Victoria, Margaret’s eldest, had given birth prematurely. The baby was healthy, but her husband had been unfaithful, so she’d left him and returned to Margaret. Margaret had demanded money from Edward for a pram and crib, insisting he was obliged to support his grandchild. “I’m no grandfather,” Edward said bitterly. “And she threw me out. Took my card while I slept.” Eleanor listened, indignation simmering. Margaret had always been domineering, but this was too much.
James frowned. “Dad, did you cancel the card?” Edward shook his head. “Didn’t think of it… She’s done it before.” Eleanor exchanged a glance with her husband. They knew Margaret rented out her own flat but lived in Edward’s house, which partly belonged to James—inherited from his late mother. “She wants your share too,” Edward continued. “Asked you to sign it over.” Eleanor gasped. “How? That’s yours, James!”
The next day, Margaret called James. “You’re a grown man,” she began. “You’ve moved in with your wife—make your own way. Let your father have your share.” James replied coldly, “That’s Mum’s inheritance. I’m keeping it.” Margaret turned to threats: “If you won’t help Victoria or give up your share, I’ll divorce Edward!” James only smirked. “Best thing you could do.”
He confronted his father directly. “Dad, are you happy with her?” Edward hesitated, then confessed, “She uses me. I’m tired.” James proposed a plan: transfer the deed, putting the house fully in his name. “If Margaret stays, she wants you. If she leaves—her choice.” Edward agreed, and the next day, they signed the papers. Eleanor stood by James, though uneasy. “What if she kicks up a fuss?” James shrugged. “Let her try.”
When Margaret found out, she stormed into the flat where Edward was still staying. “How could you?” she shrieked. “They’ve conned you!” Edward remained calm. “You wanted the house. Now it’s James’s. You’ve got your own. If you don’t want me, go.” Realising she’d lost control, Margaret packed her things and left, snapping, “You’ll regret this!” But no one did. The divorce was swift—there was nothing to split.
The house stayed with James, and Edward lived on with his son and daughter-in-law. Eleanor insisted, “This is your home, Edward. We’re family.” Later, when children came, they took out a mortgage and moved to a new place, leaving the old one to Edward. Margaret tried to return, but Edward stood firm. “I’m free at last,” he said one evening over supper, and Eleanor smiled. Their family grew stronger, while Margaret was left with what she’d chosen—empty ambition.
