And you know, Tom did the tiling in the bathroom himself, Margaret said thoughtfully, her voice slicing through the quiet.
Arthur rolled his eyes at his mother-in-laws remark. The tradesman, to whom hed just handed over the payment, gave a slight smirk, muttering something about the guarantee and making himself scarce.
Arthur surveyed the bathroom one last time, praising his own judgment. The tiles were perfectly straight, the grout lines crisp and white, and there was that satisfyingly clean scentnot the musty aroma of dust, but fresh disinfectant from the cleaner hed likely used. While he and Alice had been away at Margarets cottage, the tradesman had done more than his job; hed cleared away every scrap of rubble and left the floors gleaming. For work like that, Arthur would have paid double.
I have absolutely no desire to spend all weekend knee-deep in dust, Arthur said at last, measured and calm. And I earn enough to hire someone wholl get it right the first time.
Alice bit her lower lip, her face the picture of someone whod rather be anywhere else. She never joined in these battles between her mother and husband, preferring tense silenceand each day, Arthur found it more and more infuriating. He wanted to shout, to shake her, to finally ask her whose side she was on. But he said nothing, knowing exactly where that conversation would end.
A month ago, Margaret had moved in. Into his flat, to be precisethe flat Arthur had owned long before marriage. And ever since, the name Tom, Alices ex-husband, echoed in those rooms more often than the weather forecast.
Tom fixed all the taps himself. Tom built the hallway wardrobe with his own hands. Tom never ordered takeaway because he cooked every meal. With the regularity of Big Ben, Margaret dispensed these gems, and each time, Arthur caught himself wondering, if Tom was so perfect, why had Alice ever left him?
Another fortnight slipped by. Arthur woke from a fitful nightmare, heart pounding somewhere up in his throat. Hed overslept, shamefully, and now had less than forty minutes before a crucial meetingno time to get washed, dressed, and cross London to his office.
He darted into the kitchen, one hand doing up his shirt, the other fumbling to switch on the kettle, then grabbing some bread for a quick sandwich. Butter, cheddar, hamthey all crashed onto the slice haphazardly, no time for appearances.
Morning, Margarets familiar voice chimed from behind.
Arthur didnt bother turning, stuffing breakfast into his mouth and burning his tongue on his scalding tea.
Tom never needed an alarm to get up, Margaret said with a frown. He managed his time so well. Always made sure Alice got to work, and gave me a lift whenever I needed one.
Arthur froze mid-sip, the tea burning, but the real heat was the anger simmering under his skin.
Margaret, Arthur put down his mug, are you being serious right now?
Whats wrong with remembering? His mother-in-law batted her lashes.
You remember Tom every single day, Arthur pushed aside his sandwich. Frankly, Im tired of hearing about your sainted Tom.
I dont see why it upsets you, Margaret pursed her lips.
Seriously? Arthur snatched his jacket. Lets be clear then. If Tom was the perfect husband, so thoughtful and skilled, why dont you go back to him? Beg him to take Alice back if hes so wonderful! And what do you want from me?
Margaret gasped, words clattering and collapsing in her throat. But Arthur wasnt waiting for a reply. He strode to the hall, grabbed his car keys, and yanked open the front door, slamming it with every ounce of resentment stacked over the last month and a half.
At work, Arthur found it impossible to concentrate. The words on the screen blurred and the mornings argument ran on repeat in his head. His fingers drummed a shaky rhythm on his desk, drawing curious looks from across the office.
Whats got you jumpy? James rolled over in his chair, peering at Arthur with genuine curiosity. You look dreadful.
My mother-in-law, Arthur muttered, rubbing his temple.
Oh, the family dramas, James nodded sagely. Go on, out with it. Whats the old dear done now?
Arthur slumped back and spilled the whole mess: Margarets endless comparisons with Alices ex, her hero-worship of Tom the perfect handyman, the mornings blow-up when Arthur finally lost it.
Listen, James scratched his chin, thats classic manipulation, mate.
How dyou mean?
Shes wanting you to always prove yourself, to justify everything. Tom probably just did whatever he was told. You dont. So shes pushing and pushing with these comparisons. See?
Arthur nodded, though the insight brought no relief. His patience was frayed thinner than ever, and now he faced another evening returning home to Margaret after this mornings showdown.
When Arthur came home, the scent of fried potatoes and mushrooms greeted him at the door. The kitchen light shone, and the table was laid for two. Alice watched him from under her brows.
Whats the matter? Arthur asked, hanging his coat and moving into the kitchen, already bracing himself. Just say it plainlyIm exhausted and done with tiptoeing.
Alice pursed her lips, silent for several seconds, steeling herself.
You upset Mum, she finally blurted. This morning. She wouldnt eat all day, barely spoke. She didnt even come out for dinner.
Arthur stood rooted to the spot, rage starting to bubble anew.
Do you know what your mother actually said? He stepped closer to the table. Do you have any idea how many times shes brought up your ex in the last month?
Arthur, she just
Just what? Reminds me every day how marvellous Tom was? Tom tiled his own bathroom, Tom woke before the alarm, Tom chauffeured her everywhere. Its driving me mad, Alicedo you even care?
Alice lifted her chin, something like defiance flashing in her eyes.
Well, Mum does have a point, she said, her words sharp. Tom never spoke to her like that. He was gentler, kinder.
Arthur stilled. Her words landed inside him like stones. He stared at Alice, searching her face.
I see, Arthur forced a smile that didnt reach his eyes. So why did you leave him, Alice, if he was so wonderful? Oh, thats right. Because he cheated on you. Thats what your perfect Tom did.
Youve got no right! Alice leapt up. Dont you dare throw that in my face
I think its time, Arthur cut her off.
What? She faltered.
I said, its time for you to go. Both of you. Im obviously not the good husband or son-in-law you wanted. Pack upgo to Tom, Charlie, anyone you like. Im done.
You cant just throw us out
Ill be staying at Jamess tonight, Arthur turned towards the door. And tomorrow morning, I expect to find the flat empty.
Alice shouted after him, but Arthur wasnt listening. It was far too late. The door banged shut, shutting out Alices voice and Margarets muffled complaints.
His phone was buzzing before the lift even reached the ground floor. Alice, then an unknown number, then Alice again, then Margaret. Arthur looked down at the endless string of missed calls and simply switched his phone off.
At Jamess place, he sipped tea in silence, staring into space while his friend sat quietly beside him, offering calm solidarity.
The next morning, Arthur opened his front door and froze. Silence. No slippers strewn in the hall, no piles of Alices things, no waft of her perfume.
He wandered through to the kitchen, then the bedroom, paused in the bathroom with its immaculate new tiling. The flat gleamed, as if no one else had ever lived there.
Arthur leaned against the door frame and let out a slow breath. It was finished. There would be no more of Margaret and her endless comparisons. No wife who wouldnt choose his side. And no Tombecause there was simply no one left to do the comparing.
