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By Frances Hardy for the Daily Mail and Helen Roberts 23:37 BST 01 Dec 2010 , updated 08:45 BST 03 Dec 2010
Relationships between older women and much younger men always come with their own difficulties. But if, like India Lyndale, 45, you fall in love with your son’s best friend, it can become even more fraught.
Here, India, who runs an outdoor activities company in Totnes, Devon, her son Oli, 26, an assistant film director from London, and his best friend and India’s partner of seven years, Theo Young, 27, who also works for the company, reveal how it threw all of their lives into turmoil...
Never in my life have I entered recklessly or impulsively into relationships. On the contrary, until I was 38 I’d slept with only two men. So if anyone had suggested I’d fall deeply in love with my son’s best friend, I’d have been ­profoundly shocked.
I’d married young, at 19, and my only child Oli was born very soon afterwards. But we’d divorced when Oli was three. My only subsequent relationship lasted 15 years and I’d been contentedly single for a year when Oli’s old schoolfriend Theo — tall, blond and just 20 — breezed into my life.
I’ve always had an easy rapport with young people — my job, accompanying students on activity holidays demands it — and over the years I’ve ­welcomed Oli’s wide circle of friends into our home. That’s the job of a parent.
But I’d have viewed as preposterous the thought that I could have formed a lasting and compatible partnership with any of them — until, of course, I did just that.
It all began seven years ago, when Oli and I were planning a three-week ­activity trip to the Pyrenees during his gap year.
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I was to lead the parties of walkers and skiers. Meanwhile Oli, then 18 and a keen amateur chef, was going to cook for us all. When he asked me if Theo, then 20, could come along to help him in the kitchen, I readily agreed.
Theo and Oli had been firm friends since secondary school — and I thought it would be good for Oli to have company while I was out working.
Up until that point I knew Theo only vaguely (like most teens, my son and his friends kept themselves to themselves) and he seemed like a pleasant lad. 
In fact, for the first week of our trip to France I was so busy I barely noticed Theo — or indeed Oli — at all. It was only at the weekend, as we all chatted over a game of Scrabble, that an absurd thought occurred to me: Theo seemed to be flirting with me.
The next day I dismissed the idea as fanciful — I was Oli’s mum, after all. I told myself Theo’s inhibitions had just been freed by a few drinks. But over the next few days I couldn’t shake the feeling that my instincts were right.
'If he couldn't cope that I was having a relationship with his best friend, I'd end it immediately. But I'd snatched a scrap of happiness and I didn't want to let it go'
When we went out skiing he deliberately collided with me. He would play-fight with me in the snow. And at every opportunity he seemed to initiate some form of physical contact.
How did I feel? Truthfully, I was flattered and mildly amused. But Theo was barely 20 and I was old enough to be his mother, so had anyone suggested that this was the prelude to the greatest love affair of my life I would have thought they were insane.
But, as the days passed, I found myself drawn to Theo. One morning he brought me coffee in bed and I found myself blushing like a schoolgirl in the flush of first love. I was gratified by his little acts of kindness, happy in his company.
At the end of the three weeks, I was packing up to leave (the boys were travelling home separately) and, impelled by a streak of mischief, I asked Theo for a goodbye kiss.
He leaned down and gave me the most fleeting and chaste little peck on the lips.
I assumed that would be the end of my morale-boosting holiday flirtation. But, actually, it proved to be just the beginning.
At home in Devon, my head was counselling caution — how on earth would Oli react if he knew his best friend was consuming every waking moment of my thoughts? — but in my heart I knew I wanted to see Theo again.
Five days later, I was having a drink with friends in our local pub when Theo walked in. He lived nearby and occasionally drank there too — and I confess I was delighted to see him.
That night, over a drink, we spoke about our attraction to each for the first time — and both confessed that we wanted to take our flirtation further. We didn’t kiss, but the truth is, it had begun to occur to both of us that we had a great deal in common.
But Oli’s potential reaction was uppermost in our minds. Neither of us knew which way to jump. However, a few days later we were forced to make a choice. Theo turned up unexpectedly at my house one night when Oli was out, and somehow we ended up in bed together.
It all seemed to happen so naturally, it was only in the morning that reality intruded. I didn’t feel it was wrong — we were, after all, both single, consenting adults — but I knew I couldn’t collude in a secret relationship. Oli had to know.
We were walking together on the moors next day when I said to Oli: ‘I have to tell you something ... I’m falling in love with Theo.’ Oli looked gobsmacked.
I assured him if he couldn’t cope with the idea that I was having a relationship with his best friend, I’d end it immediately. But I’d snatched at a little scrap of happiness and, truthfully, I didn’t want to let it go.
Oli asked: ‘Have you slept with him?’ And when I said that I had, amazingly — perhaps through shock — he seemed to accept the fact calmly.
But Oli’s initial equanimity was short-lived.
As the months passed, and my relationship with Theo developed, he swung from acceptance to anger. For a while he would seem at ease; then he’d rant and rave about the inappropriateness of it.
Oli would say he didn’t feel he could speak to Theo like a best mate any more; and he’d also accuse me of driving a wedge between us as mother and son, because of my relationship with his friend.
Theo and I, meanwhile, were paralysed by worry. Should we be platonic friends or lovers? The indecision made me really ill. We both tried so hard to ensure Oli didn’t feel left out, both spending time on our own with him.
We really hated hurting him, but ­neither of us wanted to abandon our chance of happiness with each other. Actually I think it was my mum — who was then 85 — who put everything in perspective for Oli. She said she’d never seen me happier than I was with Theo.
I think Oli saw the truth of this; he began to be much calmer and more accepting after the conversation with his gran. 
My friends, meanwhile, thought I was in the grip of mid-life madness. They were convinced the relationship would be short-lived; that Theo would soon seek someone his own age and that I’d be terribly hurt. I’m certain, too, that people gossiped behind my back about the age gap.
But, in time, as Theo’s commitment to me confounded their fears, all my real friends have grown to accept him. I’ve never felt threatened by younger women either, even when Theo went away to university in ­Birmingham for three years to study human biology.
And I certainly don’t feel older than him. My energy matches — or even surpasses — his. And because he’s mature and looks a little older than his years, I don’t feel acutely aware of our age difference.
Theo is warm, ­caring, measured and sincere. And I only need to see the way he looks at me to know how much he loves me.
Of course I’d never planned to fall in love with my best mate’s mum. I’m sure plenty of teenage lads would find her very pretty — as I did when I first met her at one of Oli’s parties — but I never imagined that I’d be so drawn to her personality that I’d want to spend the rest of my life with her.
The realisation dawned on me by degrees. Oli and I had been friends for six years when I first noticed Indie. By then I’d had two serious girlfriends — both my own age — but I’d also decided my next relationship would be with someone more mature.
I felt older women were generally more self-confident and comfortable with themselves.
My early encounters with her in the Pyrenees were just innocent fun. When I took her a morning coffee in bed, I knew it was a cheeky, over-­confident gesture but at that stage I had no inkling that anything would develop. 
It was only when we got back to Totnes that I began to realise there was potential for a serious relationship. Even now, I can’t exactly say why I turned up at her house that night — it was simply a gut instinct. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences.
But as soon as we’d slept together I became quite concerned about Oli — and my fears proved right.
His emotions were volatile — one day he’d be fine; the next angry; then distant and aloof. And, every time he was upset, I felt terribly guilty. I thought about the close friendship we’d shared, and worried about jeopardising that.
Then, when he was calmer, I’d hang on to the hope that we’d both be best mates again; that everything would be as it was.
I think Oli feared his mum would get hurt. Actually he phoned my mum — who was then 58 — and convinced her that it wouldn’t work out.
In more than a quarter of marriages in Britain the woman is the older partner
She phoned me and said: ‘You’re upsetting Oli. Should you be doing this?’
But I really loved Indie and didn’t want to let go of that either, and only time proved that to Oli.
I’ve been surprised how rarely anyone else has questioned the age difference between me and Indie. We go to hotels and people automatically assume we’re married.
My friends have also been very mature. When they meet Indie they blink once, register that she’s older, then accept her as one of our crowd.
I’ve always been faithful to Indie. Our physical relationship is wonderful; she has the body of a 21-year-old. And we never run out of things to say to each other.
We have lots of plans for the future — which include growing old together — but they don’t feature children. I know if I really wanted them, I’d be able to convince her, but at the moment we’ve got a lifetime’s worth of other things planned.
My mum’s misgivings about our relationship, and the hurt it was causing Oli, were short-lived.
Now she and my step-dad, and my dad and his partner, all think Indie is the best daughter-in-law they could wish for. And two years ago Indie and I had a huge party — to signal our commitment to each other and exchange rings — in a marquee at Mum’s farmhouse.
After the initial rocky year, Oli and I are best mates again. And when we’re all together — Indie, Oli and me — we laugh and joke around just as we always did.
HER SON SAYS Perhaps because I was struggling to take it all in, when I first found out about Mum and Theo, I didn’t rant and rage or hate them. Instead, I found myself ­nodding and simply accepting it, as if too numbed to respond any other way.
But very quickly, my ‘acceptance’ turned to anger, hurt and confusion.
Although I have known Theo since we were around 14 and I know he’s a trustworthy man, it was very difficult to ­‘welcome’ him as Mum’s boyfriend.
Perhaps, selfishly, I was jealous. I worried that, as Mum and Theo grew closer, I was becoming marginalised, excluded by their love for each other.
As a result, for a time, relations between all of us broke down. Six months into the relationship, I was was still so angry I was barely speaking to mum — and I used to speak to her almost every day.
I decided to distance myself physically from them by going to France to work as a chalet host for the ski ­season. Theo and mum came to see me and it was there that everything came to a head.
I did an awful lot of shouting; ­specifically at Mum, and actually I made her cry. She and Theo said they’d split up if I felt so awful about their relationship. It was a defining moment. I suddenly felt guilty and brattish. I couldn’t be responsible for destroying their happiness.
When Mum and Theo had been together for a year, I went away to the University of the West of England in Bristol. By then my relationship with Mum and Theo was restored.
I’m in the weird position of knowing my mother’s boyfriend perhaps ­better than she does — and, thankfully, I also know he’s a truly good person who is utterly devoted to her. In fact, I wouldn’t want them to be with anyone but each other.
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The mother who fell in love with her son's best friend (and nearly destroyed her family)
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