**Second Place**
Harriet stood in the hallway, feeling her heart drop as she saw her husband, Richard, once again preparing to head out. He was already in his coat, jangling his keys with an air of self-importance that could make even the Queens corgi roll its eyes. Instinctively, she gripped the edge of the cupboard door, as if it might tether her to something solid in this wobbly world.
Off again, are you? she managed, her voice much smaller than shed intended, a tremor betraying her worry.
Yes, he replied crisply, not bothering to look round. Clara needs to go to hospital. Little Max has a temperature again, and shes barely upright herself.”
Harriet felt her insides clench, which she was sure wasnt down to the dodgy curry last night. Squaring her shoulders, she tried for a steady tone, but her voice really fancied a bit of dramatics today.
And our children? You promised Jack the playground yesterday, and you were meant to read Emily that monster book she loves. Theyve been waiting for you all day! How can you brush them off so easily?
Richard let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair in the universal language of Men Trapped in an Unappreciated Hero Monologue. He wasnt embarrassed. Just didnt have the energy to defend his sainthood today.
You know what I mean, he mumbled, eyes on his shoes. Clara needs help. Shes got no one else. The kids well reschedule. It wont kill them if you read the bedtime story, will it? They’re perfectly healthy.
His words hung in the air, and Harriet found herself swelling with indignation. She stepped closer, fists clenched by her sides.
Theyll soon forget what you look like! she blurted, her pain far louder than she intended. When did you last spend proper time with them?
Richard paused, staring out the window as if the secret of lifeor an alibiwould reveal itself in the Linden Road dustbins.
I cant just leave her, he said at last, almost a whisper. Shes desperate. Shes worse off than you or the kids.
Harriet barked out a laugh, realising, right then, that bitterness could be physically painful. She shook her head, fighting tears. She wasnt going to let him see them. Oh, no.
Of course, she spat. And we can wait. Were good at waiting. Arent we always?
She saw him poised to replylip trembling, shoulders braced for argumentbut, as usual, he chickened out, gave a grand sweep of his hand, as though dismissing an entire West End audience, and was gone. The click of the front door signalled the end. Well, it signalled a lot of things, actually, not one of them cheerful. The only thing he left behind was a fading whiff of aftershave.
Harriet sank onto the hallway pouffe, legs suddenly jelly-like, arms wrapped about herself as if she might physically prevent her heart from wandering off, too. Hed left again. Someone elses child, someone elses crisisalways more important.
*Days stretched out like the M25 on a wet Monday.* Nursery runs, then school drop-offs, endless loops of laundry, cleaning, cooking. The evenings felt lonelier, less like alone time and more like an endless repeat of Casualty, only less exciting. Richard ghosted through the flat, his presence detectable only by an empty pillow and the smell of burnt coffee in the morning.
Weeks trailed after days. Harriet told herself it was just a rough patchshe repeated it so much she half believed it. Yet every night, as she slipped into bed, the same thought nibbled at her peace: what if this wasnt a patch? What if this was it now?
One morning, elbow-deep in washing up, the realisation hit her mid-bubble. She couldnt keep quiet and pretend everything was jolly. Her hands shook as she dug out her phone, dialling a number shed never thought shed needmostly because small talk with another woman in her situation seemed grotesquely British and awkward.
Hello, she tried, striving for an even tone but failing spectacularly. Its Harriet. Richards wife.
There was a pause, long enough for Harriet to start wishing the ground would swallow herat least down to the underfloor heating.
Yes, I know, Clara eventually replied, cool as a Just Eat delivery driver. How can I help?
Harriet shut her eyes tight, words tumbling out like dropped crockery. Could you stop taking advantage of his kindness? she burst, voice too high. He has a family. Children. He’s needed here at home!
Silence again. Harriet imagined Clara calmly folding laundry, untroubled by the drama at Number 23.
I appreciate your concern, Clara replied, sugar-free. But Richard offers. Id be foolish to refuse, especially with a poorly child.
Harriet tightened her grip, knuckles blanchinga bit excessive, really, for a phone call.
Its convenient for you, isnt it? she whispered, the tears now dangerously close. Youre using his good nature.
Clara made an unimpressed noise. I do need support. Richard is a good man. How you sayideal?
Enough was enough. Do you realise youre breaking up someones family? Harriets tone was frosty, even if her insides were a mess of un-British emotion.
This time Claras response was positively arctic. Im not destroying anything. I just accept help. Richard chooses for himself. Maybe you just dont come first anymore. And dont call me again.
Harriet listened to the dial tone, phone still pressed to her ear, before lowering it and taking a deep breath.
Leaning her forehead against the cold window, Harriet watched the street go about its unremarkable businessdog-walkers, the distant squeal of children, cars grumbling past. Everything assuming business as usual, as something vital inside her quietly snapped.
That was enough. Now she was doneproperly done.
The next morning, she was packingcalmly, methodically, like an adult going on a respectable trip, not an escape. Clothes, favourite toys, bedtime books, Emilys hair bobbles, and Jacks much-abused toy careverything went in.
Harriet didnt cry. That was all spent long ago. Now, she just needed to be strongfor herself, for the kids.
When the taxi arrived, Emily broke her silence. Mummy, are we going somewhere? Her voice was small, wary.
Harriet crouched to her daughters height, taking both tiny hands.
Yes, my love. Were going to Grannys. You like Granny, dont you?
Emily nodded, wide-eyed, but the question in her eyes hung there, refusing to be spoken.
Jack, older and annoyingly wise, appeared at the door. Dads not coming? he asked, looking right at Harriet.
Her heart twitched. She brushed an errant fringe out of his eyes. I dont know, Jack. But right now, we need some time on our own.
Jack noddedno protests, just clinging tighter to his toy car as if that would hold everything together.
Harriet gave the flat a last, lingering look. So many memories, good and not-so-good. But this was no longer home.
She ushered the kids and cases into the taxi. As it pulled away, she didnt once look back. The only direction now was forward, towards an uncertain, but possibly better, future.
*****
Granny met them at the doorno grand inquest, no tutting, just wide open arms that smelt of biscuits and a sense of safety. Emily first, then Jack, then her. For a few precious moments, Harriet was a little girl again, allowed to just be sad and lost.
Only when her tears tapered off did Granny Potter matter-of-factly put the kettle on, the ticking and whistling a soothing lullaby. The smell of strong builders tea and the clink of mugs slowly brought Harriet back to herself.
Days turned into five. Not a peep from Richard. No texts. No Is Jack still obsessed with dinosaurs? Just as if theyd left for the moon and it was all very convenient.
Day six, the phone rang. Harriet hesitated but picked up. Richards name flashed, all unearned urgency.
Where are you? His confusion was palpableas if the sight of a note or the echo of three missing people was only mildly disconcerting.
With my mum, Harriet replied, impressively calm. Weve gone.
But why? The bewilderment! As if the answer wasnt lying around, covered in open books and absent promises.
Because you havent been with usany of usfor a very long time.
There was a shuffle at his end. Ill come. Vague, guilty, and somehow patronising.
No need, Harriet breathed. The words carried all her exhaustion, all the tattered remnants of hope. We dont need you here.
She clicked off before he could muster an argument. Granny, perched opposite with her classic wisdom, murmured, Hell figure it out. Question is, will he do anything about it?
As dawn broke the next morning, Harriet nursed a cold cuppa, staring at sunbeams rather than taking in their beauty.
Doorbell. Jolt. She peered through the spyhole (safety first), and there he wasRichard, looking like hed just done three rounds with a Tesco meal deal and lost.
I didnt realise youd left, he stammered.
Harriet couldnt help a grim little smirk. Its been a week, Richard. You really are observant. Did you not think to ask if the kids were still breathing?
He fluffed his hair, always his go-to move when unprepared. I thought youd gone to a friends. Clara said you called.
What else did she say? Harriets arms were firmly folded.
She she said you were jealous. And that shes sorry.
The irony burned itself out as Harriet managed a dry, almost amused sound.
Oh, shes sorry, is she? Shes got you right where she wants youif you let her, that is.
The kids re-entered. Emily hung back, wary. Jack, unsmiling, eyes old before their time.
Youre leaving again, arent you? Emilys voice, barely above a whisper.
Jacks turn. You always say youll spend time with us, he stated flatly. But you always go.
Richard blustered, arms out. This time, words failed him.
He shuffled, tried to hug Emilyshe dodged neatly, finding solace in the wallpaper pattern, eyes shining with unshed tears.
Jack turned away. Ill do better I promise, Richard muttered, but it landed with all the conviction of a well-overdue gas bill.
Harriet just shook her head, more empty than angry. Out of chances, she said simply. I cant build a family on postponements and platitudes. I wont explain every day why youre gone again.
But I love you! All of you! he protested, stretching out a hand.
Harriet levelled him with a look that would have iced a cup of tea at twenty paces. Then why arent we ever first?
And that was that. Go. And dont come back.
He hesitated, but the childrens silence was more eloquent than any tantrum. He stepped out. The door clicked shut.
Emily finally let herself sob. Harriet swept her up, whispering, Itll be all right, love. Jack came over. He didnt say much, but his hand in hers said plenty.
They stood together, watching Richard disappear through the rain.
*****
Life became a slow accumulation of little victories. Harriet threw herself into housework, freelance work (the joys of proofreading local parish newsletters), playdates and minor crises involving missing shoe buckles or an invertently ironed hamster poster.
Granny was always therea solid background of tea and gentle banter. And for once, silence stopped being heavy and became something peaceful.
Two weeks in, when Harriet had just about wrangled the new shape of her days into something manageable, Clara rang.
I know youll hate this, she began awkwardly. But Richard wont be helping anymore.
Harriet nearly laughedimagine, the gall! And?
He lived here, helping with Max, but yesterday he packed his bags. Said he cant do it anymore. Said he felt like a traitor.
This, Harriet had to admit, was finally darkly amusing.
So, what, d’you want my sympathy?
Clara hesitated. No. I just I was wrong. I kept him because I was scared, and it was easier. But thats no excuse for upending someone elses life.
Thank you, Harriet replied. But its a bit late now.
Its not, Clara insisted. He loves youall of you.
Harriet closed her eyes. Love? If he loved us, wed have come first. He didnt even notice wed gone.
A heavy silence. I understand. Sorry, Clara said.
Later, when the children slept, Harriet sat alone at the kitchen table, surrounded by old hurts and new resolve. Knowing, finally, that this was the endnot of the sadness, but of the not-knowing. That, in itself, was relief enough.
****************
Richard surfaced a month later. By then, Harriet had rented a new, modest-yet-decent flat in Croydonclose to work, good school nearby. The kids had new routines, and she managed it all, coat pockets stuffed with sticky sweet wrappers and all.
Granny had moved north to help her sister, but she still rang every day at seven to check on spelling tests and school plays. Her calls kept Harriet going, like a steady drum in the background.
Emily threw herself into drama, narrating every day as if she were Dame Judi herself. Jack discovered chess, clobbering online opponents and occasionally letting Harriet win for dignitys sake.
Problems didnt disappear (of course they didnt)the boiler went on strike, Emilys budding stage career meant last-minute fancy dress emergencies, and Jack once lost every school jumper in the county. But now, they faced it all together.
One rainy Wednesday, Harriet trudged home, mind full of deadlines and missing socks, only to find Richard sitting on the front step, clutching a Sainsburys bag of fruit, looking like a man whod just lost twenty quid and found out he didnt like bananas anyway.
I only came to see how youre all doing, he said.
She stood, two paces awayneither angry nor sad, just clear.
We’re fine, she replied.
Good, he replied, voice quiet with resignation. Really. Good. He hesitated. Do you think youll ever forgive me?
She smiled sadly. Already have. But that doesnt mean I want you back.
He nodded, shoulders finally letting go of the old weight. I understand. He turned and walked away, finally fading into the London drizzle.
Harriet headed up the stairs. The scents of someones shortbread wafted through the hall. At home, Emilys dramatic retelling of the day’s adventures and Jacks chess mumblings filled the flat. Harriet shut the door, sliding off her shoes with a sigh.
There was quietcosy, comforting quiet. Here, there was room for laughter, for stories, for burnt toast and late-night fish fingers. No more watching at the window. This was their life now, fresh and honest, the three of them.
And, finally, it was enough.
