Oh, it’s so quiet here at the care home, but my mind won’t settle—all these family stories I’ve seen over the years keep spinning round my head. So, I’ll tell you one, just so you know how love can turn into a fairy tale one minute and bitter truth the next.
This happened to an old friend of mine, Margaret Wilkins. She had a son, Oliver. They lived a quiet, peaceful life until he brought home his fiancée. Emily—pretty as a picture, all dolled up, with nails as long as my knitting needles. But trouble was, she couldn’t lift a finger around the house.
I remember Margaret saying to me, *»This’ll end in tears. That girl only cares about money and having a good time.»*
And she was right. One day, Emily just dumped her dirty plate in the sink and said, *»I’m not ruining my hands for this.»*
Her mother-in-law shot back, *»And I’m not cleaning up after you. Do it yourself!»*
So Margaret picked up that plate with two fingers, gave it a rinse—but it was still greasy as anything. And Emily just smirked at her, cheeky as you like.
Then Oliver had the nerve to tell his mum, *»I’m marrying her.»*
Margaret sighed. *»You’ll regret it.»*
But he just said, *»I love her!»*
Two months later, they had the wedding. Margaret handed over the keys to his gran’s old flat, though she wasn’t happy about it. Then one day, she went to visit—oh, good Lord. The place was a tip! Dust everywhere, clothes strewn about, dishes piled high. And there sat Emily, fiddling with her nails, saying, *»I’m still finding myself.»*
Margaret took one look and felt her heart sink. Then she found out Oliver had taken out *three* loans already. And now Emily wanted a car.
*»What for?»* Margaret asked.
*»For job interviews. People treat you differently when you drive!»* Emily said, all proud.
Who’d pay for it? Not her problem, apparently. And the dishes? *»Let my husband do them—my manicure cost too much.»*
That’s when Margaret snapped. *»Knowing my son, I give it a month before he kicks you out.»*
And she meant it—not another penny from her. Sure enough, a month later, Oliver came begging for her to take out a loan. She told him straight, *»Not a chance!»*
He went home, told Emily no car, and oh—the screaming! The whole block heard that row.
That was the last straw. Oliver chucked her out and filed for divorce.
So there you go, love fades, but the debts stick around. Remember this—pretty looks won’t put food on the table or keep a house clean.