«Mum, meet my fiancée,» Tom said, stepping aside to reveal the woman behind him. «This is Claire.»
Elizabeth barely managed to lower herself onto the nearest chair before her legs gave way. Her sweet boy, her Tommy, standing beside this woman, looked like a schoolboy next to a headmistress.
«‘Ello,» Claire muttered, hands stuffed in the pockets of her ripped jeans, gum snapping between her teeth as she surveyed the room like she owned it.
«Helhello,» Elizabeth stammered, blinking rapidly. «How did youwhen?»
«Mum, relax!» Tom kicked off his trainers and nodded for Claire to do the same. «We’re moving in at Claires place, right, love?»
«Mm-hmm,» she agreed, chewing with enthusiasm.
«Tom, can I speak with you for a second?» Elizabeth rose unsteadily and headed toward the kitchen.
«Talk in front of me,» Claire plopped onto the sofa, flipping through channels with the remote, one leg draped over the other. «Tommy and I dont keep secrets. Right, bunny?»
«Right, Mum,» Tom nodded, flushing pink.
Elizabeth inhaled sharply. «Alright then. Son, are you sure about this? Sheswhat, at least ten years older than you?»
«Eight!» Claire corrected. «And it doesnt matter. Got a problem with that? Im independent, well-off, a grown woman»
«Exactly! A *woman*! And my boys barely twenty!» Elizabeth clutched her head.
«Well, someones got to toughen him up, since no one bothered till now,» Claire snorted.
Elizabeth gaped like a fish on dry land, lost for words.
«Mum,» Tom finally spoke, «we came for a reasonwe need money for the wedding.»
«And whats that got to do with me?» Elizabeth huffed, stunned by the audacity.
«Seriously?» Claire arched a brow. «Traditionally, the grooms family pays. Mine agrees.»
«Oh, brilliant!» Elizabeth threw her hands up. «Marry off the leftover stock *and* demand cash? You should be paying *me* for taking my boy off your hands. Not a penny!»
Claire smirked, rising to loom over her future mother-in-law. «Cry all you want, love. Come on, bunny, well manage.» She strode to the door, yanking it open. Tom hesitated, casting one last hopeful glance at his mother. She turned away.
«Why bunny?» Elizabeth called after them.
«Cause of his buck teeth!» Claire shouted, shoving Tom into the hallway.
«Bye, Mum!» he managed before the door slammed.
«Lord, what did I do to deserve this?» Elizabeth collapsed at the kitchen table, drowning her sorrows in custard creams. Her sweet, gentle boy, ensnared by thatthat *predator*.
«His teeth are *fine*,» she sniffed belatedly at the empty room.
«What now?» Claire scratched her head outside, eyeing Tom. «We cant afford a proper venue, a DJ, or even a decent spread. My parents wont chip in either.»
«What if we do it at the garden house? Then honeymoon after?» Tom suggested hopefully. Hed only just started his jobsavings were nonexistent.
«You never mentioned the garden house!» Claire clapped his shoulder. «Go sweet-talk your mum for the keys. Ill wait herewouldnt want to traumatise the old bird with my *modern charm*.» She cackled.
Elizabeth had just settled when the doorbell rang again.
«Bloody hell,» she muttered, shuffling to answer.
Tom stood alone. She peered past him. «Did she ditch you?!»
«Mum!» He scowled. «Were in love.»
«Then what dyou want?» She trudged back to the kitchen.
«Can we borrow the garden house? For the wedding?»
«Over my dead body!» Elizabeth spluttered. «Youll wreck the place!»
«Well clean up, promise!» Tom pressed. «Everyonell help. Dont you want me happy?»
She choked on her tea. «I *do*just not like this!»
«Claires amazing, Mum.»
«Couldve fooled me,» she sighed, relenting. Keys jingled as she unhooked them. «Fine. But it better look untouched.»
«Youre the best!» He kissed her cheek and bolted.
«See? Told you you could manage,» Claire said, spitting her gum out before pulling him into a bruising kiss.
Elizabeth was invitedmiraculously.
«How am I supposed to smile?» she groaned to her neighbour. «Id rather drown her in the punch bowl.»
«Dont fuss,» the neighbour waved her off. «Kids these daysmarried today, divorced tomorrow. Mines on her third. Just pray they dont spawn.»
«Whats the point, then?»
«Who knows? Some collect exes like stamps.»
The wedding was a sunny disaster. Thirty guests trampled Elizabeths prized roses, used her firewood for the barbecue, and mistook her hydrangeas for a loo.
«Oi! The toilets *there*!» she barked at a tipsy groomsman relieving himself behind the shed.
«Cheers, Mum!» he laughed, zipping up.
By dawn, the garden was a wasteland of bottles, half-eaten kebabs, and snoozing guests. Claires parentsstiff as boards earlierwere now her father drunkenly flirting with bridesmaids while her mother whimpered about bugs.
Elizabeths heart sank as the newlyweds emergedsuitcases in tow.
«Youre *leaving*? Whos cleaning this mess?»
«Late for our flight!» Tom nudged her aside.
«Guestsll sort it,» Claire said, dragging him off. «Wouldnt wanna honeymoon in this *dump*.»
«A *dump*?!» Elizabeth sputtered.
One by one, guests slunk away, leaving mountains of trash. Claires father, reeking of whisky, mumbled apologies before wobbling off.
Alone, Elizabeth spotted an envelope under gift boxescash from the guests. A *lot*.
«Cleaning service? Yes, the garden house. Today. The price is perfect.» She hung up, smirking.
«Safe travels, *darlings*,» she murmured, settling in with tea and biscuits.
