**WHY DID WE NEED DIANA?**
“So, what do you think of Oliver’s new girl? Pretty, isn’t she?” I couldn’t wait to hear my best friend’s opinion.
“I’ll admit, Diana’s lovely, very sweet-looking. But your Oliver will leave her,” my friend said, utterly baffling me.
…My son Ollie had dropped Lizzie for Diana without a second thought. And I’d adored Lizzie—they’d been together five years! In my head, she was already family, his future wife. And then, out of nowhere, Diana waltzed in. Ollie lost his mind the moment he met her.
“Mum, Diana and I are moving in together. Can we have the spare room?” He wasn’t asking—he was stating facts.
“Pardon? Are you *married*? Who *is* this Diana to you? I won’t have some floozy under my roof, young man!” I was fuming.
“Fine. We’ll rent a flat. No trouble. And for the record, Diana’s *not* a floozy—she’s perfectly respectable,” Oliver said, infuriatingly calm.
…He moved out. Not that we rowed, but there was suddenly a chilly distance between us. I waited, sure he’d come to his senses and crawl back to Lizzie. No such luck.
Lizzie might as well have never existed. Diana had Ollie utterly spellbound. Eventually, I softened and invited them round. Diana was clever, practical, a proper homemaker. And she *adored* Ollie—you could see it in her eyes, her touch, her words. Though, all that fawning over me? A bit much. Still, if my boy was happy… My husband and I bought them a flat, furnished it top to bottom.
“Live well, both of you. And don’t dawdle—give us grandkids while we’ve still got the energy!” My husband ceremoniously handed Ollie the keys.
…One blazing row later, Diana packed her bags and flounced off to a mate’s place. I’ll admit—I gloated. Surely now he’d slink back to Lizzie? Instead, Ollie camped outside her friend’s door, grovelling with bouquets until Diana caved.
…They lived together eight years. I’d grown used to her, though at 35, Diana was overdue a ring. Then Ollie announced:
“Mum, Dad—we’re getting married! Proper big do, the lot.”
Off they went to the Lake District, where Ollie dropped to one knee on a mountain peak. Diana sobbed, “About *time*, Oliver! Yes, of course!” He slipped on the ring, showered her with petals—the full rom-com.
Mind you, despite both earning well, Diana *never* had a penny. Where it went, no one knew. Ollie clothed, fed, and jeweled her, insisting her money was hers, his was *theirs*. Never asked questions.
…Back home, they booked the registry, planned the wedding—then Ollie arrived, grim-faced.
“We’re postponing.”
“Why?!” we spluttered.
“Later. Just don’t ask.”
Turns out, Diana’s “work trouble” required a hefty payout. Ollie coughed up—wedding on hold. I bit my tongue, baffled.
…The day *did* come. Magical. They were radiant.
Then, a month later: “Mum, can you lend me some cash? I’ll pay you back.”
“Oliver, *what*—?”
“Please don’t.”
We handed it over—no strings. Our boy needed help. I think he nearly cried.
…Then the calls started. Debt collectors. Banks. Ollie sold furniture, gadgets. When I visited, the flat was a shell—just a camp bed in the void.
“Mum, I’m done. Divorcing her. Kicked her out. Met her *first* husband—same story. Lies, debts up to her eyeballs. I’ve sold everything, but it’s a black hole. She’s *barren*, too—no grandkids. And still, I’d have stayed… I loved her. She was my *everything*. Now?” He looked broken.
“Darling, it’s ugly, but life has a way of balancing out. Chin up. You’ll mend.” (I wanted to wail.)
My friend’s words echoed: *”Oliver will leave her.”* And so he had. Not even a year married.
I didn’t pry—he’d suffered enough. Slowly, he renovated the flat, scrubbing every trace of her. Healing.
…Then spring came, and with it, Ollie, grinning: “Ready to babysit your granddaughter?”
“Always! Explain, please?”
He waved from the balcony. In walked a blushing young woman.
“Meet Vera,” he beamed like a sunlit scone.
She was expecting.
…Now our granddaughter Annie’s in Year 1, and Vera’s due with a son soon.
“Mum,” Ollie muses sometimes, “why didn’t I meet Vera sooner? What was the *point* of Diana?”
“To teach you how *precious* Vera is. Now go cherish her.”
