Payback in Installments
Margaret Little always had a nose for other peoples business. She adored being in the know about everyone and everything; there was not a snippet of neighbourhood gossip that escaped her radar. This time, her sharp eye caught Emily as she was leaving her flat. Without wasting a second, the old lady hurried over and, with fake concern dripping from her voice, asked,
So, have you and Tom had a row?
Emily barely managed to stifle a sigh. She knew all too well that Margaret wouldnt budge until shed wrangled some details from her. Keeping her expression friendly, Emily gently replied,
Oh Margaret, whatever gave you that idea? But in her head she was thinking: If only shed just shove off and leave me be! Mentally, Im welding her own front door shut. If only I could escape her for good!
Trying her best not to let her irritation show, Emily tacked on a sweet smile and said,
Honestly, everythings grand. Were actually thinking about putting in for a marriage licence.
Margarets eyebrows shot up, and she replied with a smirk, her tone as sharp as vinegar.
Really now? Thats odd. Back when things were fine with my Colin, he didnt pack up and move out with all his possessions.
Emily felt a pang inside. She could see exactly where Margaret was angling, but she wasnt about to fuel the rumour mill. After gathering her thoughts, Emily replied calmly,
You must have misread things. Hes probably just clearing out the box room its become a bit of a dumping ground.
Shed almost made it up the next flight of stairs when, once again, Margarets voice came echoing after her. The old womans eyes had that mischievous glint, like she was holding all the aces and was just waiting for the perfect moment to play them.
Oh, of course, Margaret drawled, the relish in her voice unmistakable. People always haul rubbish out in suitcases these days. And pop it all straight into a car. Silly me, why didnt I think of that?
Emily froze on the landing, gripping her bag strap tightly but refusing to turn around. She knew that the slightest hint of annoyance would be like blood in the water Margaret would feel triumphant. Taking a breath, Emily turned slowly, face calm and measured.
You do love a bit of mischief, dont you, Margaret, she said, shrugging off the frustration that was simmering below the surface. She resolutely turned and continued towards her flat. Goodbye now.
But Margaret wasnt done. Her voice, shrill and just about loud enough for the entire street to hear, followed Emily right up to her door.
Off you dash, love, but it wont change anything! Margaret called out, delighted with herself. Your Tom didnt leave in a taxi, either a gorgeous blonde picked him up! Frankly, next to her, you dont stand a chance.
Emily squeezed her keys so hard her fingers hurt. Dont say anything! If she replied now, shed be there another half hour, fuelling more of Margarets stories. Summoning all her willpower, Emily quickly unlocked the door and slipped inside, shutting it firmly behind her.
She tried hard not to dwell on Margarets spiteful words. Thoughts circled around her head like a flock of birds: Who knows what goes on in the mind of a bored old woman? Maybe she spends too much time watching soaps, and cant tell real life from the telly anymore. Emily chuckled ruefully, recalling how Margaret was forever poking her nose into other peoples business, making up whole narratives from the smallest detail.
Tom would never, Emily reassured herself, although a faint ache pressed at her chest. Hed never leave like that! Right? No, nonsense Gossip, thats all it is! Tom loves me, weve got plans for the future
It was quiet in the flat, but in the next instant, that silence was broken in the best possible way. Around the corner, a snowy, fluffy cat came flying out at top speed. Molly dashed to greet her, green eyes sparkling, her white tail flicking impatiently.
Molly! Emily grinned, scooping her up. The cat pressed up close, purring, headbutting with her chin. You hungry, sweetheart? Has no one fed you?
She gently stroked Mollys impossibly soft fur, noticing tension ease from her shoulders as the little cat continued to meow pleadingly, throwing looks at the kitchen like a fur-covered drama queen. Emily laughed.
Oh, dont fuss! Lets go get you some supper, then well think about why Toms vanished.
She set Molly down by her bowl and filled it with fresh food. Molly tucked in happily, glancing up every now and then to check that Emily hadnt disappeared again. Emily crouched next to her little friend, feeling the awful knot in her chest begin to loosen. With Molly in the flat, even the most anxious thoughts seemed less frightening.
Still, a worry was gnawing at her. Tom always made sure Molly was fed, even when the cat drove him bonkers. Hed sometimes even put out extra, knowing a hungry Molly would make a nuisance of herself.
Whenever Tom came home, Molly would twirl around his feet, yelling for attention and treats. If he ignored her too long, shed go full brat: roll all over his black jeans, do unspeakable things in his slippers, or, worse, scratch him till he bled. Tom acted like it was all a big joke, but he never actually let her get to that point.
Watching Molly crunch away contentedly, Emily felt fresh dread. Why is today different? Why didnt Tom feed her like usual? Margarets words crept back, and Emily, steeling herself, stood to check the bedroom.
She walked in and opened the wardrobe. Her stomach twisted. The shelves, always stacked with Toms shirts and jumpers, were almost bare. Just a forlorn shirt or two still hung there, but mostly empty hangers. Emily ran her hand across them, hoping somehow shed just imagined it. But the truth was plain: his things were gone.
And in a flash, she realised Margaret had been right
Emily closed the wardrobe slowly, pressing her back against it. Now, the familiar quiet of her flat felt smothering. The cosiness had gone, replaced by a heavy, hollow feeling. Molly, done with dinner, padded over and nudged Emilys leg soothingly, but it barely registered. Her mind whirled: Where had Tom gone? What did this mean?
Just then, Emilys phone beeped. The sound sliced through the silence, making her jump. With trembling hands, she looked at the screen: Tom.
She opened the message. Just a handful of words, but enough to knock the air right out of her chest.
Ive had enough. Were over.
Emily sat there, paralysed, everything stopping except that cruel, ringing echo of the message in her mind. She squeezed the phone so hard her knuckles whitened, and muttered, so low she almost couldnt hear herself,
Couldnt say it to my face, could you?
Her legs gave out. She crumpled onto the sofa, dropping the phone onto a cushion. That was when Molly, the fluffy tornado, shot out of the kitchen, did a little leap, and landed right in her lap, headbutting her stomach firmly, as if announcing: Time for cuddles. Im in charge now.
Emily couldnt help it a bitter little laugh escaped her, even as tears stung her eyes. She hugged Molly tight, face buried in her fur. For once, the cat who normally wriggled and fussed during long hugs, stayed perfectly still. Molly just purred softly and settled in, somehow understanding her owner needed her now more than ever.
Emily stroked her, feeling the warmth start to melt that frozen hollow inside. The tears slipped out, but she no longer cared. She simply sat, holding Molly close, whispering,
Well, what do we do now, eh?
The cat answered with a deep, reassuring purr, as if to say, Im still here. Youll be alright.
**************
A Year Later.
Emily was curled up in her lounge, swaddled in a soft blanket. On the table was a steaming mug of tea, and sprawled across her lap was a half-read novel her attempt to drown out the heavy hush that came every evening nowadays and pressed down on her. The clock on the wall had just struck eleven. At this hour, shed usually be tucking herself into bed, ready for another early start at work.
That was when the phone rang. The shrill, persistent sound shattered the calm, making her jump. She glared over at the mobile vibrating on the side table.
Who the blazes is this at this hour? she wondered. Most people with manners would think twice before calling at this time.
But the caller wasnt stopping the rings kept coming: sharp, brash, like whoever it was had never heard of basic courtesy. Emily felt herself bristle with annoyance. Whoever this was clearly didnt give a toss about other peoples peace and quiet.
Fine, Ill answer itll be something urgent, I suppose
She picked up and answered crisply:
Hello?
Emily, hi! Long time no see, came the too-familiar voice down the line.
Emilys heart skipped a beat before thumping away, double-time. Shed know that voice anywhere, despite a years dogged effort to banish it from her memory. Tom. The same Tom whod disappeared last year without so much as a goodbye, leaving only an echo of heartache and disappointment.
She shot upright, trying to steady her shaking hands. A dozen questions whipped through her mind: Why is he calling now? What does he want? What possible reason? But all she said, her words chilly and flat, was,
What do you want?
She gripped the phone tighter, determined to keep her voice icy, distant no hint of old feelings. Inside, though, she was trembling. Shed told herself for months she was fine, that shed moved on and built a new life. But here he was his voice, in her living room and all those painstakingly built walls seemed to crumble to dust.
What do you want, Tom? she repeated, making sure not even a flicker of emotion leaked out. No trace of tenderness; just cold composure.
He hesitated on the line. It sounded like he was practising a prepared speech, searching for just the right words. Then, in those syrupy tones the sort of faux-guilt only a seasoned chancer could muster he started,
You know, Ive been thinking I acted really badly. I cant justify it, but I was in a terrible place, and I didnt want to drag you into my mess. He paused, as if expecting her to leap in, offer comfort, ask what had happened. But Emily said nothing, so he ploughed on: And I never stopped loving you. Things are better now, and I really want to start again.
Emily closed her eyes, holding back a scornful laugh. His problems she knew exactly what sort those were. Not some heart-rending nightmare, just bog-standard swapping her out for a flashier, richer model. She hadnt forgotten bumping into him at that posh restaurant, with his glossy-haired blonde, all designer dress and perfect make-up. How he avoided her gaze, sheepish as a scolded schoolboy, as she walked past.
Now, she had no desire to air it all. Why give him that satisfaction? Instead, she took a slow, measured breath and replied,
So what makes you so sure I havent met someone in the past year?
Her voice was calm and measured, but inside, she was fizzing. She could imagine Tom, on the other end, pausing and worrying. Maybe he was picturing her with someone new. Maybe he was finally feeling what shed felt.
She let the pause hang. She had the upper hand now for once. Last year hed vanished without a trace, not even giving her a chance to talk things through. Now he was the one in the dark, hoping to turn back the clock.
You love me too, really, Tom said, sounding so confident that Emily almost barked out a laugh. As if he couldnt imagine a world in which nothing had changed for her.
The ego of the man, she thought, her voice tinged with gentle mockery as she spoke. She almost ended the call right there, fed up with his bravado. But then a flash of inspiration. A golden, mischievous idea. For once, shed turn the tables.
She let silence stretch, then said, with a business-like tone,
You know what? Lets start from scratch. Do it all properly this time. Restaurants, flowers, little surprises. I need to know you mean it that youre not just calling because youre bored or things have gone pear-shaped. And after a month, if were still good, maybe well talk about living together. All right?
He fell silent. Emily could almost feel him pondering her challenge, weighing up if it was worth the trouble. She thought she could sense him wanting to protest, to groan about the hassle and the expense. But out loud he just rushed,
Of course! You wont regret it!
His voice sounded ridiculously enthusiastic, at which point Emily struggled not to giggle.
Well, lets see how long he sticks it out, she thought. Will a month of all this put him off for good?
She had no intention of giving him a proper second chance. It was an experiment, a final way to put the past behind her. No more wondering what if.
All right then, she said, keeping her voice steady. Lets meet tomorrow, 7pm, at the place we had our first coffee. You remember it?
Of course! Tom shot back, too quickly. Ill be there. Really, Em, you wont believe how happy
She didnt let him finish. She hung up and placed the mobile back on the table, taking a deep breath. Silence wrapped around her once more, and this time, it didnt feel stifling it felt empowering. Emily smiled, and this one was real, not forced. Tomorrow, a fresh act in this strange little play would begin. And this time, she wouldnt be the heartbroken girl shed be the one pulling the strings.
***********
Tom was putting on a show. Every single day, he forced himself to do things hed always written off as a waste of time. Lavish bouquets, fancy restaurants, pretend interest in Emilys wittering about art exhibitions. Inside, he was permanently bracing himself, especially when shed suggest yet another trip to an art gallery or a dreary park stroll. But he just grinned, nodded, agreed.
Its just a month, he kept telling himself. After that, things can go back to normal.
But it cost him literally. Tom scowled as he did the sums in his head: all those posh dinners, flowers, gifts it was adding up, fast. Still, he consoled himself it was an investment. If Emily thought hed changed, that he wanted something serious, shed be grateful. After that Well, he could figure out how to end it gently.
He stomached her tastes and routines, her endless talk about the future. Tolerated it, even as it made him wince.
How long can we really debate curtains for the lounge? hed think, watching her flip excitedly through a catalogue. Its not like well actually live together forever.
But to Emily, he just beamed and played along: Definitely, lets get the prettiest ones.
Finally, the month was almost up. Tonight was supposed to be their last date before officially moving in together. Tom eyed the calendar todays date circled in red, giving him a strange sense of relief. Soon he could stop pretending to be some doting Romeo. But he was uneasy too. What if Emily rumbled him?
He was only keen for tonight for one reason: to finally drop the mask. He missed not fussing with home-cooked meals, barely cared about the mess or the lack of affection. Emily was a stopgap convenient until he found someone more suitable.
Well live together for a couple of months, he mused, straightening his tie in the mirror. By then, maybe Ill have found a better option. Cant be doing with all this Emily nonsense for much longer.
He checked his watch time to go. In his jacket pocket was a velvet ring box not a real diamond, just a cheap imitation for show.
Ill say I want to make it official, he rehearsed to himself. Shell melt and start wedding-planning and Ill start looking for a way out.
After one last look in the mirror, Tom set out, certain that everything was about to change.
**************
Tom sat at the café the same spot where, a month ago, he and Emily had agreed to give things another go. Hed arrived early, grabbed a window seat so he could spot her first. The velvet ring box, cheap as chips, was being anxiously flicked between his fingers on the tabletop. A massive bouquet of roses slumped next to him hed gone all out.
She was late now, properly late. Tom checked the time, frowning towards the door.
What could possibly have happened? he muttered. She insisted on this date
He dialled her number, got nothing but rings. Tried texting, over and over, but no reply.
Half an hour crawled by before his phone finally buzzed. He scrambled to check the message.
Youve let me down. Youre not the man you used to be. Goodbye.
His anger surged, white-hot and blinding. Without thinking, Tom hurled his phone to the floor. The screen shattered, but he barely noticed. He leapt up, seized the enormous bouquet, and lobbed it straight into the nearest bin. The grand roses stuck out crookedly from the rubbish, looking as sad and lost as he felt.
How dare she do this to me?! he shouted, forgetting he was in public. People stared, but he was beyond caring. He was boiling with fury, regret and confusion. Hed spent all that time, all that money, planning and investing, and Emily had just slipped away, no explanation, no chance to put things right.
Standing nearby, hidden behind a broad tree across the street, Emily watched it all. Shed seen him pacing and texting, then explode in rage. As he dumped the flowers, she couldnt help but smile.
Over the last month, things had become clear. At first, she only wanted to see if Tom really cared. But soon enough, she started spotting the cracks: his forced smiles, the frustration when she suggested things he didnt like. And yesterday, she overheard him brag to a mate unaware that she was within earshot about how this was all a game, just something to pass the time while he looked for someone better.
Her heart broke then, but the sharp sting brought clarity. She wasnt some second-best option, and she definitely wasnt going to waste more time on someone who didnt value her.
Thats when her plan took shape to give Tom a taste of his own medicine. To let him feel the anticipation, the waiting game, only to be left out in the cold, just as hed done to her.
Watching him now, raging red-faced in the café, she didnt feel victorious. Just quietly satisfied. At last, she could put this chapter to bed.
They were right about revenge its best served cold, Emily thought, turning to go. Ahead of her was a new life one with no lies, no pretending, and no place for someone whod never truly appreciated her.
