**Diary Entry 23rd October**
Bloody hell. Just when I thought things couldnt get worse, our lad Thomas comes waltzing in, bold as brass, spouting the same old nonsense. “Dad, most of my mates had their parents help em with flats. Im getting married sooncant you sort us out? You dont want us living like vagrants, do you? Doesnt even have to be a purchasejust let us have the one-bedder you rent out. Oh, and while youre at it, put it in my name. Only fair, innit?”
Margaret was at the kitchen table, sifting through bills like theyd personally offended her. Id left for work hours ago, but she still hadnt managed to tidy up. Her thoughts mustve been racing like a pack of startled foxes. Peace in this house? Gone. Our youngest, Thomas, had been grinding our nerves to dust.
Truth be told, Margaret had been dreaming of finally living for herselfdoing up the spare room just how she liked, getting some posh new furniture for the lounge. With Thomas moving out after the wedding, the whole place wouldve been ours. But no. Our eldest, Emily, had gone and divorced that good-for-nothing husband of hers, leaving her with two kidsOliver and Sophieand moving back in with us. Renovation plans? Scrapped. The biggest room went to Emily and the little ones.
Then Thomas announced his wedding to that Veronica. Blasted girl had practically moved in months ago, and now seven of us were crammed into this three-bed like sardines.
Speaking of the devilVeronica swanned into the kitchen. Margarets face soured instantly.
“Morning, Margaret,” she chirped, flicking her perfect ponytail. “You eating, or shall I have the kitchen to myself? Dont want to intrude.”
No “Mrs. Harris,” no respectjust straight to the first name, like they were mates. Margaret couldnt stand her. If it were up to her, Thomas wouldnt be marrying such a piece of work. But the lad was smitten, so we had to grin and bear it.
“Morning, Veronica,” Margaret replied tersely. “Already ate. Give me five minutes to clear up, then its all yours.”
Veronica poured herself a glass of water, then dropped the bomb. “Margaret, wanted to askThomas and I were discussing where well live after the wedding. Your thoughts?”
Margaret set the bills down. Here we go. The same old tug-of-war.
“Weve been over this. Youll have the spare room.”
Veronicas face twisted into that smug, patronising look Margaret had come to despise. “Lets be honest, Margaret. This is *your* home. You and John have lived here thirty years. With Emily and the kids, its five people now. We dont want to live under a microscope.”
“And whats your grand plan?” Margaret snapped. “Youve no flat of your own. Rentings all you can afford.”
“Actually,” Veronica said, sitting opposite her, “we were thinking of *your* one-bedder. The one you rent out. We could live there. Pay you, of course Or better yet, you could just *give* it to us.”
Margaret barked a laugh. “Ive two children, in case you forgot. You want me to hand you a flat and leave Emily with nothing?”
“Emily can stay here,” Veronica shrugged. “Three bedroomsyou and John in one, Emily and the kids in another. Plenty of space.”
“Emily cant live here forever,” Margaret hissed. “Shes divorcedshe needs her own life. And no, Im not handing you that flat. Sort your own lives out. Youre young, you workearn your damn home.”
“But thatll take *years*!” Veronica whinged. “Thomas just got promoted, but even then, saving for a deposit will take half a decade! We want to live properly *now*!”
“Then why the flashy wedding?” Margarets voice turned lethal. “Limos, doves, a hundred-guest banquetwhen you cant even afford a roof? Just elope and put the money towards a flat!”
“*You* might think that,” Veronica sneered. “*We* want our dream day. I want the dress, the partyI want my friends to see were not paupers! Dont you get it?”
“Oh, I get it,” Margaret nodded. “You want to show off. But mark my wordsno home means divorce. Smart couples *buy first*, then marry.”
Veronica stormed out, fuming. No comeback there.
***
Come evening, Thomas tried his luckVeronicas doing, no doubt. This time, he griped about our recent anniversary do.
“You and Dad blew *thousands* on your thirtieth at The Savoy. Couldve just had a barbecue at the cottage. That money couldve helped *me*!”
Margaret whirled on him. “*Youre* lecturing *me*? You couldnt even save for a decent suit*we* bought your wedding one! Were covering seventy percent of this bloody wedding, even took out a loan! And now youre *moaning*?”
“Dont shout at me!” Thomas snapped. “Im just asking for whats fair. Where am I supposed to bring my wife? Some mouldy rented hole? *Mum*!”
“And why cant *her* parents help?” Margaret shot back. “You want me to hand over my safety net? That flats our retirement! Were keeping it rented.”
“Youve had your turn!” Thomas shouted. “Give *us* a chance!”
“Emilys got *kids*, Thomas. She needs help more than you!”
Then Veronica barged in. “Emily can rely on her ex,” she sneered. “Or *this* flat youll leave her. Just give us the one-bedwere not asking for *this* place.”
The row spiralled. No respect left. Just demands for a flat theyd no right to.
***
A week before the wedding, the house was oddly quietThomas and Veronica were off at a mates cottage, Emily visiting her cousin up north. Margaret and I were settled in front of the telly when the doorbell rang. No one we expected.
I answeredonly for Veronicas mum, *Diane*, to barge in screeching.
“John! Margie home? Lets have a chat!”
Margaret froze. Shed met Diane thrice, and that was three times too many.
“What do you want?” Margaret demanded, no pleasantries.
Diane grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Just came to talk. The kids big days coming, and my Veronicas in bits*thanks to you*!”
Margaret folded her arms. “And whats *my* crime?”
“Oh, dont play daft!” Diane scoffed. “Why wont you let em have that empty flat? Its just sitting there!”
Margarets voice turned glacial. “And why arent *you* buying them one?”
Diane blinked. “Whered I get that sort of money? Were just getting by! If *I* had a spare place, Id”
“Thats *enough*.” I cut in, shoving her towards the door. “Tell your daughter shes not getting a flat. End of.”
She left, cursing. I rang Thomas right aftertold him to pack his things the second he got back.
**Lesson learned**: Some people will always see your hard work as their entitlement. Stand firm, or theyll take the shirt off your back.
