The Whirlwind of Family Secrets: A Drama in Catherine’s Home
Catherine clutched her phone, pacing nervously across the cramped kitchen of their flat in the old quarter of Oakshire. Her heart pounded as she dialled her husband’s number.
“William, when will you be home?” Her voice trembled, betraying her unease.
“Soon, just finishing up,” William replied, clearly preoccupied. “Is something wrong?”
“Hurry, we need to talk,” Catherine blurted, her tone heavy with unspoken urgency.
“Something serious?” A note of worry crept into his voice.
“Just get home. You’ll see for yourself,” she exhaled and hung up.
William, setting aside his work, rushed home, his chest tight with dread. What could have happened? His mind raced through every terrible possibility, unease gnawing at him.
Twenty minutes later, he burst through the door, tossing his briefcase aside.
“Catherine, what’s happened?” he gasped, catching his breath.
She met him in the hallway, her face pale, eyes wide with alarm.
“Change your clothes, wash your hands,” she said, forcing calm into her voice as she nudged him towards the bathroom. “It’s not an emergency, but we need to talk.”
William hurriedly freshened up and stepped into the sitting room. Catherine led him to their daughter Emily’s bedroom. The girl sat hunched on the bed, knees drawn to her chest, her eyes red from crying.
“Right, what’s all this about?” William asked, struggling to keep his composure.
“Ask your daughter,” Catherine snapped, folding her arms. “Go on, Emily, tell your father what you’ve gone and done!”
Emily stubbornly stared at the floor, silent. William felt irritation bubble up inside him.
“Enough!” He slapped the table. “Either you both tell me what’s going on calmly, without hysterics, or I’m going to bed and you can sort it out yourselves!”
Catherine shot a glance at Emily and, receiving no answer, spoke instead.
“Our little princess has decided to get married! Right now, no delays!”
William froze, grappling with her words.
“Married?” He turned to Emily. “To whom, might I ask?”
Emily remained silent, turning towards the window. Catherine pressed on.
“To Thomas Whitmore. You remember him—he’s been around lately?”
“Ah, that lad,” William nodded, recalling the lanky young man. “So, Emily, is this true?”
His daughter’s silence made him raise his voice.
“Stop this nonsense! Must I beg on my knees to hear what’s happening?”
“Thomas and I love each other!” Emily burst out, her voice shaking. “He’s wonderful, and we’re getting married!”
William exhaled heavily, sinking into a chair.
“Well, at least we’ve got that much,” he muttered. “He’s at university with you?”
“Yes, same course,” Emily mumbled.
“First year,” William said tiredly. “Children…”
“We’re not children!” Emily flared up. “We’re eighteen—proper adults!”
“Adults, are you?” William narrowed his eyes. “Then we’ll speak like adults. Explain to me: you love each other, fine. But where will you live? How will you manage? Have you even thought about that?”
“That doesn’t matter!” Emily cried. “When there’s love, nothing else is important!”
William shook his head, exhaustion and frustration warring with his instinct to understand.
“Emily, how old are you?” he asked quietly. “You’re acting like a schoolgirl. Love is grand, but you need a roof over your heads. You need to eat. What’s the rush? No one’s against Thomas. Bring him round, let’s meet his family. Isn’t that fair, Catherine?”
She nodded, but her expression darkened further.
“It’s fair, love. But there’s a catch. They *have* to rush.”
“What, is Thomas being drafted?” William frowned.
“No, not that. And not Thomas,” Catherine glanced at Emily. “Emily, why don’t you tell him?”
“I’m not staying quiet,” Emily snapped. “Thomas and I are having a baby.”
William went still, her words echoing in his mind.
“A baby?” he repeated, struggling to process it. “And what’s your plan?”
“We’ll marry! Have the baby!” Emily stood abruptly. “And don’t you dare try to stop us!”
“Calm down!” William barked. “No one’s stopping you. But let’s think this through. Do Thomas’s parents know?”
“He was supposed to tell them today,” Emily said softly. “We agreed we’d each tell our families.”
“And he hasn’t rung yet?”
“No…”
“Right. When he does, let me know. Now, let’s eat—I’ll starve at this rate with all your dramatics.”
In the kitchen, Catherine set a steaming bowl of soup before William, but her hands shook.
“What do we do?” she whispered.
“I don’t know, love,” he admitted, staring into the bowl. “Let’s wait to hear from his parents. Maybe we can figure something out together.”
Before they could finish, Emily’s phone rang. She bolted from the room, clutching it, then whispered,
“It’s Thomas’s mum. She wants to speak to you.”
Catherine waved her hands, refusing the phone. William sighed, put it on speaker, and pressed a finger to his lips.
“Hello, this is William, Emily’s father.”
“Hello, Margaret, Thomas’s mother,” the voice on the other end was icy. “Our son just informed us he’s involved with your daughter. And given her *condition*, they’ve clearly taken things too far. They’ve got *plans*, apparently. Are you aware?”
“Yes, we’ve spoken with Emily,” William replied evenly.
“Good. Then understand this: we utterly refuse to entertain this nonsense!” She spat the word *plans* like poison. “Thomas must focus on his studies, build a career. Marriage in his first year—let alone a child—is not in *our* plans.”
“You know, it wasn’t in ours either,” William retorted, keeping his temper. “But Emily’s having a baby. By your son, I might add. What do you propose we do about that?”
“That’s *your* problem, William,” Margaret cut in. “First, I’m not convinced it’s Thomas’s. Second, this ‘I’m pregnant, let’s marry’ scheme won’t work on us. Your daughter—like any girl—wants a husband, especially one from a good family with prospects. I understand, but as his mother, I’ll do everything to keep your daughter away from my son. My husband agrees. We’ve spoken to Thomas, and he’s sided with us. He asked me to tell your daughter to leave him alone. She can do as she pleases—keep it or not—it’s none of our concern. Goodbye.”
The dial tone hit like a slap. William looked at Catherine and Emily. The girl trembled, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“You heard?” he said grimly. “We’ll manage. The baby’s innocent. It’s alright, Emily. Take a leave from university, return later. We’ll help—financially, with the baby. As for *them*… we’ll deal with them later. Rotten lot!” He slammed his fist on the table. “Cry if you must, but not for long. We’ll get through this!”
Catherine nodded and murmured,
“I’ll take Emily to our room tonight, so she doesn’t do anything foolish. We’ll talk, I’ll calm her. You sleep in her room.”
An hour later, the doorbell rang. Grumbling, William went to answer.
Thomas stood on the doorstep—pale but resolute.
“Thomas?” Emily gasped, rushing to him. “You came for me?”
“Yes,” he said firmly, meeting William and Catherine’s eyes. “I’m here to take Emily.”
“Where to, might I ask?” William arched a brow.
“Don’t know yet. We’ll rent a flat, maybe. We’re adults, and I’d ask you not to interfere.”
“Hold on,” William raised a hand. “Your mother said you all disagreed—including you.”
“That’s what *she* decided,” Thomas countered. “Father backed her, as usual. But I pretended to go along. Then I grabbed my passport, my card, and came here.”
“Interesting,” William huffed, studying him. “How will you manage? Sorted a flat yet?”
“I’ve worked odd jobs, run a blog—got followers,” Thomas said confidently. “Enough for rent and food for now. I’ll earn more.”
“Not bad,” William admitted, masking surprise. “Catherine, what do you think? Shall we let her go? Lad’s got more spine than I thought.”
“I don’t know,” Catherine wavered. “Not at this hour.”
“Right,”And as the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, the family sat together, weary but united, knowing that no storm could break the bonds they had reforged in that long, difficult night.