Youre an orphan, wholl stand up for you? the husband mocks as he drives me out of the house.
Wheres the money I gave you yesterday? David bursts into the kitchen, his face flushed with anger.
Emily turns from the stove where the mince patties sizzle, droplets of fat hissing on the hot pan.
What money? You never gave me anything.
Dont lie! Sixty pounds for groceries! I left it on the bedside chest in the bedroom!
David, I didnt take that cash. Check again, maybe I moved it.
Ive searched everywhere! Its gone! You stole it and blew it on your little things!
Emily switches off the hob and wipes her hands on her apron. After four years of marriage shes grown used to such accusations, yet each one still cuts to the bone.
David, I never touched your money. I have my own salary, why would I steal?
Salary! he snorts. Your pocketchange from the shop? Thats not a salary, its an allowance!
At the doorway appears the motherinlaw, Margaret Hargreaves. Shes been living with them for the past six months after selling her flat, claiming shes invested the proceeds in her sons businessthough David merely works as a manager at a construction firm.
Whats all this noise? she asks, scanning the kitchen. Another fight?
Mum, she stole my money! Sixty pounds!
I didnt steal anything, Emily repeats quietly.
Margaret steps closer, eyeing her daughterinlaw from head to toe.
David didnt give me any cash yesterday. He handed it to me for safekeeping because, dear, you cant handle money. Youll waste it all.
Emily feels the pressure tighten inside her. Again, theyre united against her.
Margaret, if you took the money, just say so. Why blame me?
Are you calling my mother a thief? David snaps.
I never said that. I just want to get to the bottom of this.
Theres nothing to discuss, the motherinlaw says, pulling a few notes from her cardigan pocket. Heres the money. I took it so you wouldnt spend it on nonsense. David, take this and buy yourself a decent shirt, then stop showing up to work in rags.
David grabs the £60, stuffs it into his pocket without looking at Emily.
Thanks, Mum. You always look out for me.
Emily stands mute, the sting of humiliation roiling inside her. Shes learned long ago not to display emotion; any display in this house only turns against her.
The patties are burning, Margaret remarks. Everythings falling apart. Youre a hopeless housewife.
Emily returns to the stove. The patties are indeed charred on one side. She flips them, breathing evenly, refusing to break down.
Four years ago everything was different. David courted her charmingly, bringing flowers and taking her to cafés. Emily worked in the same supermarket she still works ata typical sales assistant with no qualifications or connections. She grew up in a childrens home, later moving into a council flat after her training. Life was hard but hers.
Then David appeared: goodlooking, confident, with a stable job. He noticed her when he stopped for groceries, started chatting, joking, inviting her out. Emily could hardly believe her lucka man from a respectable background and a girl from an orphanage, with no family to back her.
Their wedding was modest. Only a flatmate from the council flat attended on Emilys side; on Davids side came his mother, a few relatives and friends. Margaret watched Emily with thinly veiled disapproval, though she kept it hidden.
After the ceremony Emily moved into Davids twobedroom flat in a suburban estate. She kept her job, managed the house, tried to be a good wife. Gradually things shifted.
First came petty criticisms: the soup was undersalted, the shirt wasnt ironed properly, she didnt allocate money the right way. Then the accusations grewshe spent too much, dressed poorly, was uneducated.
When Margaret moved in, the situation deteriorated. She assumed the role of the households ruler, scathing every move Emily made, meddling in every matter, turning David against his own wife. And David always listened to his mother.
Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Emily announces, setting the table.
Finally, David sighs, slumping into his chair with his phone. Im starving.
Margaret examines the spread.
The salads watery, and theres hardly any bread. Are you pinching pennies?
I bought exactly what we need for the week, according to the list you drew up.
Dont argue with your elders. Young people today have no respect.
Dinner passes in tense silence. David chews mechanically, Margaret sighs repeatedly, showing her displeasure. Emily barely touches her plate; she has no appetite.
Afterward she washes the dishes while Margaret and David lounge in the living room, laughing at the television. Emily sits apart, feeling like a servant whos merely tolerated.
That night David goes to bed without even wishing her goodnight. Emily lies awake, staring at the darkness. When did she become so unhappy? When did she stop being a beloved wife and become a burden?
Morning comes, and she rises before anyone else, as usual. She prepares breakfast and packs Davids lunch. He leaves, muttering something indecipherable.
Emily, we need to talk, Margaret says as Emily finishes her tea.
Im listening.
This flat is too small for three of us. Its cramped.
I know, but we cant afford a bigger place.
Thats exactly why David and I think you should find somewhere else to live, even temporarily. You have a salary, after all.
Emily lifts her eyes to Margaret, who meets her with cold determination.
What do you mean?
You could rent a room elsewhere. Its only fair.
This is my husbands flat. Im his wife.
Margaret smirks. Wife? What kind of wife? You cant have children, youre useless around the house, youre not pretty. David could do better.
David chose me, Emily says softly.
He made a mistake. People make mistakes, but they must be fixed.
Youre suggesting I leave my husband?
Im suggesting you make his life easier. You dont have to divorce; just live apart for a while. It might be better for everyone.
Emily rises, her hands trembling, but she tries to stay composed.
Ill talk to David.
Talk, talk. Hes already agreed with me. It was his idea.
All day at work Emily wrestles with the conversation. Does David really want her out? Does four years of marriage mean nothing?
That evening she arrives home earlier than usual. David is already there, sipping tea with his mother.
David, I need to speak with you alone.
Talk with Mum here, she knows everything anyway.
This is about us.
He sighs, stands, and walks to the bedroom. Emily follows, closing the door behind her.
Your mother said you want me to leave. Is that true?
David turns to the window.
Its true. We need space. Mums here, Im uncomfortable, and you just take up room.
Im your wife!
A wife who hasnt given you a child in four years, who earns a pittance as a shop assistant. What use are you?
David, the doctors said my health isnt the issue. You
Shut up! Its your orphan background, your family history. Who knows whats in your blood!
My parents died in a car crash when I was three. Im a normal, healthy person!
Normal? he sneers. No family, no roots. I married you out of pity, and now youre a burden.
Emily feels tears well up but she holds them back.
So you want a divorce?
I want you out. Just out for now. Then well see.
Where am I supposed to go?
Back to the council flat, or rent a room. Its your problem.
David, I love you. We can try again
Its too late, Emily. Its decided. Pack your things.
When?
Tomorrow. You have the evening to sort yourself.
He leaves the room, leaving her alone on the bed they shared for four yearsa bed where she once dreamed of children, a happy family, a future. Everything collapses in an instant.
She begins to gather her belongings: clothes in a bag, documents, a few pounds she kept hidden, photos, books. She has almost nothing of her own.
Margaret peeks into the room.
Smart girl, you get it. No need for a scene.
I dont want a scene, Emily replies, still stacking items.
Right. Slip out quietly, and thats it. David will find someone proper, from a respectable family.
Emily says nothing. Margaret has always deemed her unworthy of her son and has achieved her aim.
Morning arrives. Emily dresses, grabs her bags. David sleeps on, Margaret pours tea in the kitchen.
Leaving?
Yes.
Leave the keys on the table.
Emily places the keys down, steps into the hallway, pauses at the door, looks back at the flat that was her home for four years. She will never return.
She walks down the stairs and out onto the street. Its early, the city still quiet. Where now? Her council flat is already occupied, renting a room costs money she only has a few pounds left.
She heads to work, arriving early, sitting in the staff room to think about her next steps. The shop is warm and quiet. She sits on a crate, bags beside her, feeling an emptiness that refuses to produce tears.
Emily? Why so early? asks Susan, the store manager, a woman in her fifties, stern but fair.
Couldnt sleep.
Susan narrows her eyes, glancing at the bags.
Whats happened?
Nothing, really.
Dont lie. Ive known you four years; I can tell when youre lying. Speak.
Emily tells her everythingher husband, her motherinlaw, being kicked out. Susan listens, nodding.
Youre a proper bastard, she says when Emily finishes. Sorry for the expression, but its true.
I dont know what to do.
My daughter lives in another town; her flat is empty. Stay with me for a while, sort things out.
I cant
You can. And stop calling me Mrs. , just Susan.
Emily agrees, promising to pay back later. Susan smiles, and they plan to go together after Emilys shift.
Later, Susan drives Emily to her modest twobedroom flat on the citys outskirts. Its simple but cosy. Her daughters room is small, with a narrow bed, a desk, and a wardrobe.
Make yourself at home. The beds fresh, I changed the sheets yesterday. Let me know if you need anything.
Thank you so much. I dont even know how to thank you.
No need. Weve all been helped once; now we help others. Thats how it works.
Emily spreads her few belongings, feeling a strange peace in someone elses houseno criticism, no accusations, no humiliation.
The next day David calls.
Where are you? I need the rest of your things.
Ive taken everything.
Theres still a box left. Come today.
I cant, work late.
Then tomorrow. Mum needs space for her things.
He hangs up without asking how she is or where she lives.
Emily returns after work the following day. David opens the door, hands her a box.
Take it.
Can I come in?
Why?
I want to discuss something.
Reluctantly he lets her in. The flat smells of unfamiliar perfume. She walks into the living room where a young woman of about twentyfive, impeccably dressed, sits on the sofa.
Emily, this is Sarah, David says. Sarah, this is my exwife.
Exwife? Were not divorced.
Just paperwork. Ill file it soon.
Sarah looks at Emily with barely concealed superioritybeautiful, confident, everything Emily is not.
So youve already found a replacement, Emily says quietly.
Im not a replacement. Im his girlfriend. Real, not a temporary fix.
David, how long have you been seeing her?
He averts his gaze.
Six months.
Six months. While Emily tried to be a good wife, David was already a halfyear into an affair, lying, then simply booting her out.
Youve been cheating and then blaming me for everything.
Dont cause a scene. Youre an orphan, wholl stand up for you? David sneers, looking down at her. You have no one. No one will protect you. So pack your box and get out.
Emily takes the box, her hands trembling, the anger and humiliation burning inside, but she shows no sign of it. She turns and leaves.
On the way back to Susans she cries, tears finally spilling, a flood of frustration and hurt.
Susan meets her with tea and a slice of cake.
Did you see him?
Hes with someone new. Been seeing her for six months.
Hes a scoundrel. He said youre an orphan and no one will look after you.
Susan puts her cup down.
Hes wrong. There are people who will stand up for you. Me, the shop girls, everyone here.
Thank you, but whats the point? Hell divorce, marry someone else, and forget me.
Thatll be the best thing for you. Youll be free of that idiot, and youll build a normal life.
Later that weekend Susans friend, Alisha, drops by.
How can you kick someone out of the house?
Apparently you can. Emily smiles weakly.
Did you speak to the manager? We have a staff support scheme that can give you a grant.
I didnt know that existed.
Talk to Helen on Monday; shell sort out some financial help.
On Monday Emily meets Helen, the stores director. Helen listens, frowns.
Those bastardssorry for the language. Ill arrange a financial assistance package and a bonus for this month. Itll cover the first months rent for a new place.
Thank you so much.
We dont abandon our own. Youre a good, honest worker. People like you deserve support.
Emily leaves Helens office feeling lighter. The money will let her rent a room and stop being a burden for Susan.
That evening an unfamiliar woman calls.
Emily? Im Tamara, Margarets sister.
Im listening.
I heard you were forced out. Im against that. My sister handled things terribly, and my nephew is involved. If you need any help, just ask.
Why do you offer?
Because Ive been there. My first husband threw me out too. I understand.
They talk at length; Tamara shares her story, offers advice, and gives emotional support. By the weeks end Emily finds a room in a shared house. The landlady, Mrs. Clarke, an elderly lady, welcomes her warmly.
Make yourself at home, dear. Keep it tidy, keep it quiet, and youll be fine.
Emily moves in, arranging her modest space, hanging photos, placing books. Its cramped, modest, but its hersno one demeaning or pushing her around.
David texts about the divorce; Emily accepts his terms without protest, wanting to close that chapter quickly.
Three months pass. Emily settles into her new routine: work, home, occasional meetups with Susan and other shop colleagues. Life is quiet, calm, free of fights and accusations.
One day a man in his forties, tall, bespectacled, with a kind face, enters the shop looking for groceries. He chats with Emily, returns several times, then again.
Do you always help customers so attentively? he asks.
I try my best. Its part of the job.
Youre not just helpful; youre genuinely caring. Its rare.
His name is James, a teacher at a nearby school. He recently divorced and lives alone. They begin talking, eventually meeting for tea.
I dont know, Emily admits, blushing. I just got divorced.
Thats fine. Lets just enjoy each other’s company, no strings.
They meet in a café, laugh, share stories.Emily walks hand in hand with James through the park, feeling for the first time that the future might finally hold genuine hope.
