Lucy Bennett gazed out of the carriage window, thoughts drifting to her mother. Shed spent three days at Margaret Thompsons flat, ladling broth and handing out medicines. Her fever had finally broken just yesterday.
Stay another day, love, her mother had said over breakfast.
Victors home alone, Mum. Hell be starving, Lucy had replied.
Now, as the train rattled on, Lucy regretted not staying longer. Victor called each evening, asking after her mother and complaining about an empty fridge. His voice sounded unusually weary.
I miss you, he whispered before he hung up last night.
Lucy smiled at the memory. Thirtytwo years together, and he still missed her. Shed found a good man.
A woman across the aisle cracked sunflower seeds and flipped through a crime novel. The cover showed a striking lady embracing a man in a tuxedo. Lucy caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glassfine lines, a few silver strands at the temples. When had she aged so much?
Are you heading home? asked a fellow passenger.
Yes. Going back.
The woman laughed. Im off to see my lover. My husband thinks Im at my sisters.
Lucys cheeks flushed. How could someone speak so openly about such things?
Her phone buzzed.
Hows everything? When will you be back? Victor typed.
Lucy glanced at the clock: four hours to her mothers house. She wanted to be honest but changed her mind. Let it be a surprise; hed arrive, shed have dinner ready, and hed be pleased.
Ill be there tomorrow morning. Miss you too, she sent.
Victor instantly replied with a heart emoji.
Outside, fields, hamlets, and tidy suburbs whizzed by. Lucy pulled a thermos of tea from her bag. Margaret poured it for her, insisting she take a sandwich. She was still feeding Lucy like a child.
Youve gotten so thin, dear. Im sure little Tommy isnt looking after your diet, Margaret chided.
Mum, Im fiftyseven now, Lucy replied.
And Im still your mum, Margaret said, patting her hand. Youll always be my girl.
Lucy chewed a ham sandwich, thinking of the house where shed grown up. Her father had passed five years ago, and her mother refused to move to the city.
Everyone has their own life, Margaret often reminded her. Dont let me intrude.
Lucy had always loved caring for peoplefirst her parents, then Victor, then the children. Shed been a schoolteacher until her son, Samuel, was born, then took maternity leave. Later Emily arrived, and eventually she became a fulltime housewife.
Why work at all? Victor had once asked. I earn enough. You should focus on the home.
She did. For thirty years she cooked, washed, cleaned, raised the kids, shuttled them to extracurriculars, ironed Victors shirts, mended socks. The children grew up and left. Samuel moved to Leeds with his own family; Emily married and had a grandson, making her a grandmother herself.
What now?
The train slowed. Lucy gathered her things and said goodbye to her seatmate. The platform was bustling; a bus would take half an hour to her mothers house.
She imagined Victors surprise when he found her already there. Maybe shed stop at the supermarket on the way, buying quality steak, fresh potatoes, and a bottle of red wineabout £30 in total. At the checkout, the cashier smiled.
Preparing a celebration? she asked.
Just waiting for my husband, Lucy replied.
The bags were heavy; she barely made it up the stairs, paused in the lift to catch her breath, rummaged through the tote for her keys.
She turned the key, opened the door, and shouted, Victor, its me! Im home!
Silence answered. He was probably asleep; it was already ten at night.
She set her bags down, removed her coat, and the flat was lit. Victor never slept with the lights on.
She headed to the wardrobe, but stopped at the doorwaythere were womens black heels on the floor, glossy and highheeled.
Victor? she called softly.
Her heart thudded. Maybe Emily had come over; she had a spare key. But why no warning?
A soft, feminine giggle floated from the kitchen.
Victor, youre such a character, a womans voice cooed.
Lucys coming tomorrow. No rush, he replied.
Lucy pressed her back against the wall, legs trembling. Who was this woman, and what were they saying?
Will she ever return? the stranger asked.
Never, Victor answered. Shes always precise. If she said tomorrow morning, its tomorrow morning.
They laughed. Lucy closed her eyes; breathing grew difficult.
She slipped down the hallway toward the kitchen. The door was ajar; she peeked in.
Victor sat in a soft shirt, hair scruffy, smiling. Across from him sat a young blonde, about thirty, in a loose robeher own robe.
Two cups of tea, a slice of cake, some chocolates lay on the table. He held the womans hand.
Laura, youre amazing, he murmured.
Lucys mind spun. Laura? Who was Laura?
What about your wife? You said you love her, the woman teased, tilting her head.
I love her. But this is different. With you I feel young again.
Lucy clutched the doorframe, her vision blurring. Thirtytwo years of marriage, thirtytwo years of trust, and now this
Victor she whispered.
They both turned. Victors face went pale; the woman straightened her robe.
Lucy? Youre supposed to be here tomorrow, he stammered.
Whos she? Lucy demanded, pointing at the blonde.
Its Laura. She lives in flat 52 down the hall, Victor muttered.
Neighbour? Lucy looked at the woman in her own robe. A neighbour in my robe?
Laura flustered, backing toward the door. Ill just go, she said. Victor, call me later.
Dont go! Lucy shouted. Explain whats happening!
Lauras face was guilty but not entirely remorseful. We were just chatting. My tap was broken, and Victor helped. She gestured to the kitchen.
The tap? In my robe? Lucy laughed hysterically. You were fixing my tap?
It wasnt my tap, Laura replied softly. Victor lent me his robe so I wouldnt catch a chill.
My robe! Here, in my flat, at my table, while I was caring for my sick mother? Victor stepped closer, his hands shaking.
Lucy, quiet, he whispered. The neighbours will hear.
The neighbours? Lucy snapped. You think about neighbours now? What about me, when you
It didnt happen, Victor insisted, grasping her shoulders. I swear, nothing else.
Lucy met his eyespanic, fear, and deception stared back. Shed learned to read his face over the years.
Let me go, she whispered.
Lucy
Let go! she urged.
Victor released her; his hands trembled.
Laura muttered, Ill leave, and darted toward the door.
Wait! Lucy shouted. Take off that robe first!
Victor tried to stand between them. What, are you shy now? Lucy snapped, pushing him away. You werent shy when you were drinking coffee with her in my house!
Laura tossed the robe onto a chair, revealing jeans and a sweater.
Im sorry, she said, and fled the kitchen, slamming the front door behind her.
Lucy sank onto a chair, burying her face in her hands. No tears fell, just a hollow void where her heart used to beat.
Lucy, lets talk calmly, Victor said, sitting beside her. Ill explain everything.
Explain, she demanded.
Laura asked for help with a leaky tap. I went over, fixed it, and she offered tea as thanks.
Tea at two in the morning? Lucy retorted.
It was around nine, Victor stammered.
Its one now! Four hours of tea? Lucy snapped, her voice rising.
Victors face flushed with sweat.
Im not a fool, Lucy said quietly. Thirtytwo years of marriage. I can tell when a man lies.
Nothing happened! We were just talking. Shes lonely, has no one else.
And you talk to her about life, not about me? Lucy shot back.
We talk about the house, the grandson, your mother. With her, I talk about life.
Life? Am I not a life? Am I just furniture? Lucy laughed bitterly.
Not that way Victor began.
How could you say that? Lucys fists pounded the table. Ive spent three decades at homefor you, for the kids! I gave up my career! And you say Im boring?
Lucy, calm down
I wont calm down! She paced like a caged animal. I iron shirts, wash socks, make stew! And you discuss philosophy with neighbours!
The neighbour just one? Lucy hissed. How many before her?
There were none.
Youre lying! She leaned in, voice trembling. How many times did you stay late at work? How many trips, meetings, conferences?
It was work!
Work? What work did Laura have today?
Victor lowered his head.
Lucy, I love you. Truly. Youre the most precious person to me.
Precious? Like a piece of furniture? Lucy scoffed.
Dont say that
How should I say it then? tears finally burst. Ive given you my whole life! And you run off with younger women?
Im not running away! Laura came to me she wore my robe, held my hand
Victor was silent.
Answer me! Lucy shouted. Was it mutual?
Were adults it was consensual, he whispered.
Consensual! So you wanted this? You thought about it!
Lucy, stop
It has to stop! How long has this been going on? How long?
Six months
Six months! Youve been cheating for half a year! Kissing me at night, saying you love me, while you were with her!
I didnt run away! We barely saw each other!
Barely? So you did see her! Lucy lunged toward the door. Enough! Its over!
Where are you going?
Anywhere but here!
Lucy fled to the hallway; Victor chased after her.
Lucy, stay! Talk in the morning with a clear head!
A clear head? Ill have to live with a clear head for the rest of my life! she snapped, pulling on her coat.
Dont go, please! Victor pleaded, halfnaked in a Tshirt and boxer shorts, his balding head exposed.
Know what? Lucy said, stopping at the stairwell. Go talk to your Laura. Talk about life.
She slammed the door and ran down the stairs, refusing the lift for fear Victor might catch up.
Outside it was cold. Where could she go? She couldnt return to Emily; it was too late and would wake her grandson. Her mother lived far away, and the last train had already left.
She remembered Grace, a friend who lived a few miles away. She called.
Lucy? Whats happened? Graces sleepy voice answered.
Grace, can I come over? I need a place.
Of course. Tell me whats wrong later.
Lucy boarded a latenight bus, replaying the past thirtytwo years. All that remained was emptiness and pain.
Grace opened the door in a wrinkled robe, hair a mess.
Come in, have a cup of tea, Grace said, gesturing to the sofa. Tell me everything.
Lucy poured out her story; Grace listened, nodding.
Scoundrel, Grace muttered. All men are scoundrels.
I dont know what to do, Lucy confessed.
Divorce, Grace said bluntly. Thats it.
But weve been together so long
Thats exactly why he thinks youll endure anything, Grace replied.
Lucy lay on Graces couch, sleepless, replaying memories: how they met, married, raised children, how Victor would disappear at work while she kept the home afloat.
When had he started pulling away? About two years ago, shed noticed his chill, his absentmindedness. Shed chalked it up to a midlife crisis.
Now she saw the truth: hed fallen in love elsewhere.
The next morning, Emily called.
Mum, whats wrong? Dads been looking for you.
Tell Dad Im at Graces. Ill explain later, Lucy said.
Victor called all day, but Lucy let it ring to voicemail. That evening he showed up at Graces house.
Lucy home? he asked Grace at the door.
Yes, Lucy replied, stepping into the hallway. What do you want?
Just talk. Properly, Victor said.
Speak, Lucy replied.
Lucy, Ive ended things with Laura. Its over. No more meetings.
Good. No more Lauras, Lucy muttered.
Victors face was tired, his shirt creased. He seemed sincere.
Lucy, Im fiftyseven now. Maybe I still have time for myself, she said quietly. I could work somewhere, see the world, think about what I wantnot just what you want.
Were a family, Victor protested.
Family means respect, not one person living for the other while the other lives for himself, Lucy replied, a small smile forming. Ill respect you, honestly.
Maybe we should live apart for a while, each think about our own lives, Victor suggested.
Is that a breakup? Lucy asked.
Its a pause. If you realize you need me, not the housekeeper youve turned into, come back. If not then its over.
Victor nodded slowly. Alright. Ill fight for you.
Time will tell, Lucy said.
Grace hugged her, whispering, You did the right thing.
Its scary, Lucy admitted.
Scary, but honest, Grace replied.
Lucy settled by the window as rain drummed against the pane. A new chapter began at fiftyseven. It felt odd, but perhaps it was exactly what she needed.
Tomorrow shed look for a parttime job, then drive to her mothers and have a hearttoheart chat. The future was uncertainmaybe Victor would truly change, maybe shed discover she could thrive on her own.
The important thing now was to live for herself, not just for others.
Rain tapped the glass as Lucy finally smileda genuine smile that hadnt appeared all day.
And she knew that true peace comes when you stop losing yourself in someone elses story and start writing your own.
