Revenge on Credit
Eleanor Marsh had long been known for her insatiable curiosity. She loved to keep up with everyones business, so she never missed a chance to dig up fresh gossip. This time her attention focused on Emily, who was just leaving her flat. Without a moments hesitation, Mrs Marsh scurried up to Emily, feigning concern.
So, have you and Tom had a bit of a row, then?
Emily suppressed a sigh. She knew only too well that Mrs Marsh would not give up until she got at least a snippet of information. Keeping her features pleasant, Emily replied gently,
Mrs Marsh, whatever gives you that idea? Though inwardly she thought, I wish shed just disappear. If only I could shove her back into her flat and slam the door its the only chance for peace!
Doing her best not to betray her irritation, Emily added with a sweet smile,
Were absolutely fine, actually were thinking of giving notice together.
Mrs Marshs eyebrows shot up in surprise, and her voice took on a sly tone.
Really now? Thats odd. When all was rosy between Colin and me, he didnt move out with all his stuff, you know.
Emily felt a pang inside. She understood Mrs Marshs insinuation perfectly well, but she wasnt about to give more fuel to the neighbourhood rumour mill. Cautiously, she responded,
Im sure youve misunderstood probably just sorting out the storage cupboard. Weve collected all sorts of old bits and pieces there.
Emily was nearly up the next flight of stairs when Mrs Marshs voice called after her again. The old womans eyes twinkled meanly, as if savouring her role as the all-knowing neighbour.
Oh, of course, Mrs Marsh drawled, sarcasm dripping from her every word. Its perfectly normal to haul rubbish out in suitcases and load them into the car. Silly me, why didnt I think of that?
Emily froze on the step, clutching her bags handle so tightly her knuckles whitened, but she didnt turn around. She knew if she showed the slightest hint of irritation, Mrs Marsh would take it as a victory. Drawing a deep breath, Emily turned around slowly, keeping her expression calm.
You do have a knack for twisting things, Mrs Marsh, she said, shrugging as if unaffected, though inside she was simmering. She continued up the stairs, determined not to get dragged into a fruitless argument. Goodbye, Mrs Marsh.
But Mrs Marsh wouldnt be deterred. Her sharp voice chased Emily all the way to her flat.
Thats right, run along but it wont help you now! she shrilled after her, clearly enjoying herself. Your Tom didnt get a cab a flashy blonde came to pick him up in her car. If you ask me, shes got you beat in every department.
Emily briefly closed her eyes, squeezing her keys in her palm. Dont answer! If she replied, the conversation would go on another half hour, and that was the last thing she wanted to do give Mrs Marsh more material for gossip. Steeling herself, she quietly unlocked the door, slipped inside, and closed it firmly behind her.
She tried not to dwell on Mrs Marshs words. Instead, a single thought kept turning in her mind: Does it really matter what goes through a lonely old ladys head? Shes probably watched too many soap operas and cant tell real life from drama. Emily remembered how Mrs Marsh was forever poking her nose into other peoples affairs, noticing every little detail and immediately inventing a story around it.
Toms not like that she assured herself. He wouldnt just up and leave! Surely not? Her chest tightened uncomfortably, but she forced those anxious doubts away. No, its just gossip. Tom loves me we were making plans
The flat was quiet, but moments later the silence was broken in the best way possible. From around the corner, a white, fluffy cat darted out at full pelt. Snowdrop, tiny and elegant, made straight for Emily, mewing loudly and with great urgency. Her emerald eyes sparkled, her tail twitching with impatience.
Snowdrop! Emily couldnt help but smile, crouching to scoop her up. The cat pressed closer, purring and nudging her chin. Are you hungry? No ones fed my little darling?
She stroked her cats soft fur, feeling her tension melt. Snowdrop kept complaining, casting reproachful glances at the kitchen, and Emily laughed.
Dont fret, love, she cooed, walking to the cupboard for food. Lets have some words with that careless Tom, shall we? Dinner for you first then Ill find out whats happened to him.
Setting Snowdrop down by her bowl, Emily poured out fresh kibble. The little cat immediately began to munch away, glancing up every so often as if to make sure Emily wouldnt leave again. Emily sat down nearby, watching her pet, feeling a little lighter. With Snowdrops company, even the nastiest thoughts seemed less frightening.
Still, worries nagged at her. Tom always took care of the cat. Even when Snowdrop got on his nerves, he never forgot to leave out food sometimes more than he should, knowing a hungry Snowdrop would chase him around the flat for attention. She still remembered how Tom just had to walk in, and Snowdrop would wind round his legs and demand feeding. If no one fed her, she could be a real rascal coating Toms black jeans with white fur, leaving a gift in his slippers, or even giving him a swipe or two. Tom always laughed her off, but made sure not to let things get that far.
Watching Snowdrop crunching her food, Emilys anxiety returned. Why is today different? she wondered. Why didnt Tom feed her, as usual? Mrs Marshs words echoed in her mind. Emily resolutely stood up. She needed to check.
She walked slowly into the bedroom, pulled open the wardrobe. Her heart pounded. The shelves that used to be packed with Toms clothes now looked bare. A couple of old shirts hung loosely, but otherwise the space was startlingly empty. Emily ran her hand over the empty hangers, as if hoping it might be a trick of the light. But there was no denying it his things were gone.
A crashing realisation: Mrs Marsh was right Emily closed the wardrobe and leaned against it. The quiet of the flat suddenly felt cold and hostile. Snowdrop, having finished her supper, rubbed gently against her leg, seeking to comfort her, but Emily barely noticed. Thoughts spun: Where had Tom gone, and what did it all mean?
Suddenly, her phone beeped. The sound sliced through the oppressive silence. With trembling hands, Emily picked it up. The display read: Tom .
Her pulse racing, Emily opened the message just a few words, but they knocked the air from her lungs:
Im done. I cant do this anymore. Its over.
For a moment, Emily just sat there, numb. Her mind was blank save for the echo of that short, merciless message, repeating over and over. She gripped her phone and whispered, as if afraid to disturb the fragile reality:
Thats it, then? You couldnt even say it in person?
Her legs seemed to buckle underneath her and she sank onto the sofa, phone slipping from her grasp to the cushion beside her. At that moment Snowdrop bounded in from the kitchen, leaped onto Emilys lap, and butted her head hard into Emilys chest. In her demanding, feline way, she seemed to say: Cuddle me, servant. Its my time now.
Despite the ache in her chest, Emily allowed a bitter little laugh. She hugged her fluffy troublemaker, burying her face in soft white fur. Snowdrop, who usually disliked long cuddles, didnt budge this time she just purred quietly, curling more snugly into Emilys lap, as if sensing that her owner desperately needed comfort.
Emily stroked the cat, grateful for the warmth against the growing coldness within her. Tears blurred her vision, but she didnt try to stop them. She simply sat there with her companion, murmuring softly,
What now, Snowdrop?
The cat replied with a gentle purr, as if to say, Im here. Well be all right.
**********************
A year later.
Emily sat in the lounge, wrapped in a warm blanket. A steaming mug of tea stood on the coffee table, and a half-read novel lay open on her lap a feeble attempt to escape the weight of the evening quiet, which lately seemed more oppressive than comforting. The clock on the wall showed eleven. Normally, shed be getting ready for bed, since work beckoned early the next morning.
And that was when the phone rang sharp, persistent, shattering the calm. Emily frowned at the mobile glowering on the table.
Who could that possibly be? Decent people think twice before ringing at this hour, she thought.
But the phone wouldnt stop. One ring after another, demanding and inconsiderate, as though whoever was calling had never heard of good manners. Irritation simmered within her. Some people just didnt understand boundaries.
Fine. Ill answer. Maybe its urgent, she muttered, snatching up the phone.
She pressed accept, her voice clipped, Hello?
Emily, hi! Its been ages, said a voice she recognised instantly.
Her heart stilled then hammered faster. She could never truly forget that voice, however much shed tried. Tom the same Tom who had left her a year ago with no explanation, nothing but cold silence and a sharp sense of betrayal.
She gripped the phone tighter, pushing aside the tide of emotions. Questions flashed through her mind: Why is he calling? What does he want? Why now? But aloud she said only,
What do you want?
She kept her voice measured and detached, though inside she still trembled. A whole year had passed. Shed convinced herself the pain was gone, that shed built a new life for herself. And now there he was, threatening to knock those defences down with a single phone call.
I said, what do you want? she repeated, controlling her tone, allowing no hint of vulnerability, no echo of old tenderness. Only icy politeness.
There was a pause on the other end, as if Tom was rehearsing his speech. Then he finally spoke: gentle, contrite, just enough to twist the knife.
I know I did an awful thing. Im not making excuses, but I was in serious trouble and I didnt want you to get caught up in it, he paused dramatically, no doubt hoping shed jump in offer sympathy, ask questions. But she said nothing, so he went on, But I never stopped caring for you, not for a second. Things are different now, and I want to get back what we had.
Emily closed her eyes, fighting back a bitter laugh. She knew exactly what trouble had meant for Tom not hardships, but a simple, selfish desire to be with somebody richer and prettier. She still remembered catching sight of him out at a restaurant with that glamorous blonde dressed to the nines, flawless makeup. She remembered the look of shame when their eyes met across the dining room.
But now, she had no intention of dragging it all out. She didnt want to let on that she knew the whole story. Instead, she asked, drawing out her words,
And how do you know Im still alone?
Her voice was calm, almost indifferent, though a storm raged inside her. She could just imagine Tom freezing, wondering if he was too late if she really had moved on.
Emily let the silence hang, enjoying that rare moment where she held all the cards. A year earlier hed simply vanished, denying her even a goodbye. Now, here he was, speaking of love and new beginnings.
Well, you love me too, dont you? You wouldnt trade me for anyone, Tom replied, so confident that Emily could barely hide a sarcastic smile. It was as if he couldnt believe anything could have changed.
Youre awfully sure of yourself, Emily retorted, the hint of a laugh in her voice. She was about to end the call, knowing this conversation could only stir up old wounds. And then, suddenly, an idea flashed before her mischievous and warming in its own way.
She hesitated a moment, carefully shaping her next words.
You know, she said, maybe we could try again.
Tom was momentarily silent, perhaps doubting his ears. Then, excitedly,
Really? You mean it?
Emily narrowed her eyes, gazing through the window into the darkening night. Her voice was businesslike, as if outlining a contract:
But if we do, we start from scratch. Dinners out, flowers, presents all the trimmings. I want to know youre serious. Not just calling because youre lonely or things have fallen through elsewhere. And if all goes well, after a month, well move in. Deal?
Another pause from Tom. She could practically feel him weighing it up running the maths, wondering whether it was worth the effort. She almost imagined him searching for a loophole: why bother with all this fuss? But in the end he replied, hurriedly, almost relieved,
Of course! You wont regret this!
His enthusiasm was laughable, and Emily smiled to herself.
Well see just how long he keeps it up, she thought. One month of effort, and lets see if he still thinks this is all he wants.
She had no intention of giving Tom a proper second chance. It was an experiment a way to lay the past to rest at last. She didnt want to look back one day and wonder what if?
All right then, she said. Lets meet tomorrow at seven, that café where we first had coffee. Remember?
I remember! Absolutely! Ill be there punctually. Honestly, Emily you cant imagine how happy I am
She didnt listen to the rest. She hung up, set the phone down, and took a deep breath. The room was quiet again, but this time, it didnt feel lonely. Emily smiled genuinely, for the first time in ages. Tomorrow the next act began. And she was no longer the victim, but the one in control
********************
Tom gave it everything he had. Every day he forced himself to do things hed once dismissed as pointless. Lavish bouquets, pricey restaurants, endless patience while Emily enthused about galleries and plays. He was quietly seething whenever she suggested yet another trip to the theatre or a long walk in the park, but he smiled, nodded and agreed.
Its just for a month, he told himself. After that, things will go back to normal.
The money vanished shockingly fast. Tom did mental calculations and winced: the sum was substantial. But he reassured himself it was an investment: let Emily see hed changed, that he could commit. And then well, then hed find a way to bow out gracefully.
He put up with her tastes, her routines, her endless talk of the future. He gritted his teeth every time she pored over catalogues for the new lounge curtains, acting as though their shared life together was a certainty.
How many times can one debate curtain patterns? he thought, barely hiding his irritation, but to her he just smiled: Of course, lets pick the nicest ones.
Finally the month neared its end. Today was their last date before, officially, theyd move in together. Staring at the calendar with todays date highlighted in red Tom felt a mixture of relief and unease. Relief that soon he could drop the romantic act, stop the haemorrhaging of his money and time; unease, just in case Emily sensed something wasnt quite right.
He couldnt wait for it to be over, but not for the reasons Emily imagined. Hed no intention of sticking around; she was just a stopgap while he searched for something better. He looked forward to no longer having to cook for himself, to having someone else clean up at least for a while.
A couple of months, thats all, he thought, fixing his tie. By then I might have found a more suitable option. No way am I putting up with Emily for long
He checked his watch time to go. In his pocket was a velvet ring box. Not a real ring, of course just a cheap imitation, for dramatic effect.
Ill say I want to make us official, he rehearsed mentally. Shell melt, start talking weddings. And meanwhile, Ill keep my eyes open for a better prospect.
Once last glance in the mirror, a quick fix of his hair, and he was out the door. Tonight would change everything…
**************************
Tom sat at a table in the coffee shop the very same place where, a month ago, he and Emily had restarted their relationship. Hed arrived early, chosen a seat by the window so he could spot her arrival. The cheap ring box sat in his hands; an ostentatious bouquet of pink roses as large and extravagant as he could buy waited on the next chair.
And now Emily was late. Very late. Tom frowned, glancing at the door, his irritation growing.
Whats taking her? he fumed internally. She was so insistent about this
He rang her, but after several rings there was no answer. He tried a text, then another nothing.
Half an hour crawled past before his phone chimed. He opened the message on the spot, desperate for an explanation. Instead, he read:
Youve disappointed me. Youre not the man you used to be. Goodbye.
The fury was instant. He hurled the phone onto the marble floor it bounced with a dull thud, the screen splintering, but Tom didnt care. He jumped up, grabbed the roses, and flung them, with all the strength he could muster, into the nearest bin. The beautiful bouquet drooped, discarded and pathetic.
How dare she dump me? he spat, barely realising hed said it aloud. Diners looked over, but Tom didnt care. Rage, embarrassment, and confusion threatened to choke him. Hed rehearsed, hed invested, hed played the long game and shed simply vanished, without a word or a chance to set things right.
All the while, Emily watched from behind a broad-leaved tree nearby. She saw everything: Toms fidgeting, his irritation, the phone calls, the meltdown. As he threw the bouquet away, she couldnt suppress a smile.
The past month had made a lot clear. At first, she only wanted to see if Tom meant what he said. But soon the cracks appeared: the strained smiles, the flashes of annoyance whenever she suggested something he didnt enjoy. The day before, shed overheard him on the phone to a friend, convinced she couldnt hear. The truth came out: this was all an act, a stepping stone until someone better came along.
Her heart ached at first, but clarity soon followed: she deserved more than to be someones backup. She wasnt going to waste her energy on a man who didnt truly value her.
So she devised a plan. Shed let him feel a taste of what shed felt a year ago, left without warning or explanation. Let him know what it was like to wait, to hope, then have the rug pulled away.
Now, watching Toms display, Emily felt no malice. Only a quiet satisfaction a weight lifted. Shed closed that chapter; she was finally free.
People always say revenge is a dish best served cold, she thought, walking away, and theyre absolutely right.
Above all, Ive learned this: nothing heals you quite like regaining your dignity, even if it comes in the most unexpected way. Sometimes, letting go is the biggest revenge of all.
