The Bristol morning was crisp, sunlight filtering through the flat’s curtains as Ellie sipped her coffee, oblivious to the storm James felt brewing. He watched her scroll through honeymoon options for Devon, her enthusiasm a stark contrast to the knot in his chest. Patricia’s plan to visit Ellie’s mum in Cheddar weighed heavily on him. He knew his mum meant well, but meddling in Ellie’s past could unravel everything. Still, the idea of Ellie facing her mum—and maybe finding peace—tugged at him. He decided to go along with it, hoping it wouldn’t backfire.
By noon, James and Patricia were in his Mini Cooper, winding through Somerset’s rolling hills toward Cheddar. The radio played softly, but Patricia’s voice cut through.
— You did the right thing, love, she said, adjusting her scarf. — We’ll have a proper chat with Ellie’s mum—Susan, isn’t it? Find out why they’re estranged. Weddings fix families, you’ll see.
James gripped the wheel, unease creeping in. — I hope so, Mum. But Ellie’s private about this. If she finds out, she’ll be gutted.
— Pfft, Patricia scoffed. — She’ll thank us later. Now, keep your eyes on the road.
The drive took just over an hour, and soon they pulled up outside a modest cottage on Cheddar’s outskirts, near the gorge. The garden was a riot of colour—roses and lavender blooming vibrantly, worth a £10 bouquet—though the cottage’s paint was peeling, and the windows looked tired. James double-checked the address from Ellie’s unopened letters, his heart racing.
— This is it, he muttered. — Susan Harper’s place.
They stepped out, the scent of flowers heavy in the air. Before they could knock, a woman in her late fifties appeared at the gate, her apron dusted with flour. Her face, lined but kind, paled as she saw them.
— Hello? Can I help you? she asked, her Somerset accent soft.
— Hi, I’m James, Ellie’s fiancé, James said, forcing a smile. — This is my mum, Patricia. We’ve come to talk… about Ellie.
Susan’s eyes widened, a flicker of hope mixed with fear. — Is she alright? Has something happened?
— No, no, she’s fine, Patricia said quickly. — We just want to understand things. About you and her. Can we come in?
Susan hesitated, then nodded. — Right, come through. I’ll put the kettle on.
Inside, the cottage was spotless but dated—faded wallpaper, a worn sofa, and a small table set with a teapot, digestives, and homemade jam. Susan moved with quiet grace, pouring tea as she spoke.
— I haven’t seen Ellie in three years, she said, her voice trembling. — She’s my only girl, but she doesn’t want me in her life. I write, I call, but… nothing.
Patricia leaned forward, her eyes sharp but kind. — Why, Susan? What happened between you two?
Susan’s hands shook as she set down her cup. — It’s a long story. Where do I even start?
James braced himself, sensing the truth was about to change everything.
Susan’s cottage near Cheddar’s market square felt like a time capsule, its faded charm heavy with unspoken stories. The scent of lavender from the garden mingled with the warmth of brewing tea, but the air was thick with tension. James sat on the worn sofa, his eyes darting between Susan’s trembling hands and Patricia’s keen gaze. Susan, who spent mornings tending her garden before work, began to unravel the past, her voice soft and cracked with emotion.
— I raised Ellie alone, Susan said, staring at her teacup. — Her dad left when I told him I was pregnant. I was nearly forty, working at the village library. My mum was ill, needed constant care, but I wanted a child so badly. Ellie was my world.
Patricia nodded, her face softening. — That can’t have been easy, love. Go on.
Susan sighed, her eyes distant. — We never had much. My wages barely covered the bills, and after Mum passed, it was just me and Ellie in this cottage. I tried to give her everything—clothes, books, extra English lessons for her exams. She was bright, always top of her class. But as she got older, she… changed.
James leaned forward, his chest tight. — Changed how?
— She wanted more, Susan said, her voice breaking. — Better clothes, a fancy phone, things I couldn’t afford. She’d see her mates with Nike trainers or iPads and come home angry. Said I should’ve earned more before having her. Called me old, said I embarrassed her. I sold my mum’s old necklace to buy her a laptop for uni, but it was never enough.
Patricia’s brow furrowed. — Kids can be cruel, but that’s harsh. Did she say why she felt so ashamed?
Susan’s eyes welled up. — She hated our life here. Hated the cottage, the village, me. Said her mates thought I was her gran, not her mum. I was too old, too poor. She worked hard, got into Bristol Uni on a scholarship, but she cut me off. I send letters, £100 a month sometimes. She never replies.
James’s mouth fell open. — You still send her money? But Ellie’s got a job, a good one. She doesn’t need it.
Susan shrugged, a sad smile flickering. — She’s my daughter. I can’t stop hoping she’ll come back. I sell veg and eggs at the market, keep the garden going. It’s enough for me, but I want her to have more.
Patricia reached for Susan’s hand. — You’ve done more than enough, Susan. She’s lucky to have you, even if she doesn’t see it.
— Have you tried visiting her? James asked, his voice gentle.
— Once, Susan whispered. — Three years ago, I went to Bristol. She said she was too busy. I waited outside her flat, but she never came out. I just… left.
The room fell silent, the weight of Susan’s words sinking in. James felt a chill, picturing Ellie’s cold dismissal of this woman who’d given everything. Patricia’s eyes narrowed, her mind already plotting.
— We’ll fix this, Susan, she said firmly. — Ellie needs to face you, and we’ll make sure she does.