So, get this last New Years Eve, my husband took off to go celebrate with his mates and left me absolutely stranded at home with the three kids.
Picture this: Im up to my elbows in washing up liquid at the kitchen sink, three-year-old Tommy clinging to my left leg like some sort of determined barnacle, while the frying pan is hissing away with onions for the stew and a roast is doing its thing in the oven. Meanwhile, seven-year-old Harry is next door, launching a siege on the sofa cushions for his makeshift fortress.
Suddenly, I hear Jamess voice drifting from the bedroom, completely unfazed by the mayhem, Do you reckon this tie works with jeans, or should I wear that blue shirt you got me for my birthday? as if this was just an ordinary Tuesday.
I counted to five, exhaled, and yelled over the extractor fan, James, why on earth do you need a tie? Were just celebrating at home you, me, and the kids. Honestly, whats the tie for?
He strolled into the kitchen, freshly showered, clean-shaven, wearing what smelled suspiciously like the last of his expensive aftershave. Basically, he looked like a catalogue model, while I looked a total state: hair in a messy bun, old tee shirt with a baby food stain, and some serious under-eye bags.
He shrugged theatrically, Its still New Years, babe. Cant exactly see in the New Year wearing joggers, can I?
Well if you want to suit the moment, how about helping me sort the potato salad and fix Tommys toy car? I grumbled, shooing Tommy across to his dad.
James artfully dodged the sticky hands and started fiddling with his cufflinks instead, avoiding my gaze. So, bit of a thing Mike from work just rang, you remember Mike? All the lads are getting together, just for an hour, see off the year and all that. I was thinking Ill nip out, back by eight, help you out after.
I froze, spoon halfway to my pan. To Mikes? James, its six oclock weve got three kids in meltdown. Tommys clamouring (and probably cutting more teeth), Molly wants me to do her hair, Harrys redecorating the lounge with sofa cushions, and Ive been chained to this kitchen since the crack of dawn. Whats so urgent about Mike?
James winced like Id stabbed him in the foot. Oh, come on, Em, you always make a drama out of everything. The kids are fine, dinners nearly done whats left to do really? Plus, its important to keep up these work connections. You want me to bring home the bacon, dont you?
I want a husband whos actually present and a dad who knows his kids, not just someone who crashes here, I replied, that familiar lump rising in my throat. Last New Years you disappeared to Johns for an hour and only rocked up five minutes before midnight steaming drunk. I ended up getting the kids to bed on my own again.
James waved me off, grumbling as he went to put on his shoes. Youre dragging up ancient history I promised Id be quick. Eight oclock, sharp as anything. Ill even pick up some clementines on the way back. Dont sulk, Em, it gives you wrinkles.
With that, he pecked my cheek barely, just for show and before I could say anything, the front door slammed. For a brief second, it was silent. Then, Tommy finally realising his dad had scarpered without him burst into howling tears.
Muuum! Harry yelled, Molly smashed my tower!
I didnt, he fell into it! piped up ten-year-old Molly defensively.
I had to close my eyes. Honestly, I felt like sitting down right there amongst the crumbs and stains and having a cry with Tommy. But mums dont get the luxury of breakdowns hours before midnight with a party tea still to finish and Russian salad nowhere near layered.
So I scooped up Tommy, pressed him to me he smelled of baby shampoo and milk and put on my mum knows best voice. Enough now. Daddys got something important on, hell be back soon. In the meantime, who wants to help Mum grate some beetroot? Handsll look like vampires! Just imagine!
That just about did the trick; Harry shot to the kitchen, peace offering forgotten. For the next couple of hours, I was juggling like some sort of demented octopus slicing, cleaning, popping noses, stirring with my invisible extra arm. The kids were more hindrance than help, but at least they werent brawling. Molly, bless her, laid the table all nice, with napkins printed with little Christmas trees.
By eight, dinner was out, the kids scrubbed up and dressed. But James still hadnt shown. Quarter past eight, half past The clock ticked inexorably towards nine. I gave him a ring long, foreboding rings in my ear. On the fifth ring, he picked up; laughter, glasses clinking and music blaring in the background.
His voice was far too jolly and unmistakeably tipsy. Em! So sorry, Mikes put on quite the spread, you should see it, loads of toasts The boss showed up, cant really leg it, itd look odd. Give us another half hour, yeah? Start without me, the kids need their routine. Be back soon, promise!
James, this is just not on, I said, but hed already rung off.
I looked over at the kids: Tommy gnawing on a breadstick, Harry fiddling with his bow tie, and Molly far too wise for her age watching me with this quiet, sad look.
Is Daddy running late? she asked.
Yeah, love. Some important chat at work, I lied, the words tasting like old mustard. Right, who wants an egg mayonnaise sandwich?
So we started our party without him. I joked, sang silly songs, did a quiz but inside, there was this hollow, expanding pit. Every time I saw the empty seat at the head of the table the perfectly set place for James, the cooling roast it just sort of hit me: the love I’d built everything on, solid as a rock, was crumbling into sand.
Hed chosen them a gaggle of blokes and cheap supermarket plonk over us. On New Years Eve, the most family-centred night of the year, he left me to fend off the chaos single-handed.
By ten, Tommy had totally lost it: inconsolable, overtired, rubbing his little eyes and wailing. I carried him to our room, rocked him, sang lullabies. There in the dark under the fairy lights, my own tears finally came silent ones, so he wouldnt hear. Not out of self-pity, but out of sheer tired anger. Furious with myself, really, for buying into the work and exhaustion excuses for so many years.
When Tommy finally nodded off, I found Harry barely awake, half-slumped in front of Only Fools and Horses.
Mum, will Dad be back when Father Christmas brings the presents? he mumbled sleepily.
Course he will, sweetheart. But Father Christmas likes it when youre snuggled up asleep. Youll wake up in the morning and therell be all sorts under the tree.
With him settled, I went to the window where Molly sat watching the early fireworks over town.
Hes not coming back, is he, Mum? she whispered without turning.
Hell come, but late, I admitted, dropping onto the sill next to her. You know, Moll sometimes grownups are bigger idiots than kids. They forget what matters most.
She screwed up her face, determined. Im never getting married. Whats the point? Just end up like you waiting around.
That nearly broke me. This was the gift James was leaving his daughter that first sharp taste of disappointment.
Not everyones like Dad, darling. Youll meet good people, and even if you dont you can be happy just as you are. Promise me this: Never let anyone treat you badly, no matter how much you care.
We cuddled up, just us two, until half eleven. James didnt call. I didnt ring again. Id made my decision.
So! I said, clapping my hands. Wheres that kids bubbly gone? Lets see in the New Year in style, eh? Were smart, beautiful, and surrounded by lovely grub. Lets not let someone elses nonsense spoil our night.
We poured lemonade in posh glasses, chucked on tinsel, put music on and danced madly around the lounge, devouring clementines. At midnight, we scribbled wishes on scraps of paper, burned them carefully over a plate (proper health and safety, of course), and mixed the ashes in our lemonade.
My wish was just one word: Freedom.
By one a.m., Molly trailed off to bed. I tidied up quietly, put away leftovers, loaded the dishwasher. The house was peaceful, the fairy lights twinkling. When I picked up Jamess chair, I carried it off to the kitchen and swapped it for a bowl of fruit. Seemed right.
Before bed, I slid the big bolt across our dodgy old lock just to be safe. We hardly ever used it, but tonight I wanted it.
I finally had a hot shower, put on my cosiest pyjamas, and climbed into bed alone for the first time on New Years. It felt surprisingly nice the bed roomy and inviting.
Sometime after four in the morning, I woke to the sound of bumbling about at the front door someone jiggling the key, rattling it, leaning in hopelessly. The bell rang, hesitant and then more urgent. My phone started buzzing. I flipped it facedown.
Outside, I heard muffled swearing, then a soft thud as if someone was knocking just a bit to save face.
Em! Em, are you up? Its freezing out here, let me in! Jamess voice was sulky, almost like a moody child.
I slid out of bed, wrapped my old dressing gown around me, and pressed my ear to the door.
Em, I know youre there! Come on, let me in Im freezing!
Im not opening the door, I called, calmly and loud.
Silence. Then, What do you mean? Dont be daft! Im your husband! I live here!
A husbands supposed to be home by eight. Its four, James. Me and the children live here not tipsy strangers. Come back in the morning, when youre sober. Then well talk.
Oh, this is ridiculous! Ill spend the night out here so everyone sees what a cow you are!
Goodnight, James, I said, and wandered back to bed.
My heart was pounding, but I wasnt shaking. I curled up under my duvet, expecting him to make a racket, but within minutes it was properly quiet. Either hed wandered off or passed out nearby. I couldnt care less. The last of my pity had vanished somewhere between the tenth phone call and the boss showed up.
New Years Day was sunny and freezing. The kids woke up chirping and launched themselves at the Christmas tree in a flurry of wrapping paper.
Mum, look! Lego!
Oooh, I got a doll!
I brewed my coffee, soaking up their excitement. Then at nine, the front door rang this time polite, not a drunken hammer.
I unlocked the bolt. James was there wrinkled, red-eyed, still in the shirt hed worn out, with a suspicious brownish stain on the collar (wine or ketchup, who knows), his tie sticking out of his pocket. He looked absolutely hopeless.
Nice one, he croaked, dragging himself inside, I slept in the car. Bloody freezing. Not even a scrap of sympathy, have you?
He expected apologies. For me to fuss, drag out tea, feel guilty for being mean. That was our whole dance: he messes up, I get cross, he makes it my fault for overreacting, I end up apologising.
This time, I just sipped my coffee and stared at him.
The kids are in the lounge, I said, evenly. Go get yourself together; shower, brush your teeth, and dont breathe that stuff over them. Then come to the kitchen were sorting out a timetable.
He froze with his shoe half off. Timetable?
For your visits with the kids. And splitting up all the stuff. Im filing for divorce, James.
His shoe thudded to the floor. Youre joking? Over one night? Come on, everyone goes a bit mad now and then! Emily, be reasonable. Weve got three kids!
Exactly, I said, steeling myself. We have three children and they need better examples. I wont have Harry thinking lads treat women like this, or Molly believing women just have to put up with it.
He threw out the same old tired line, Who on earth would want you with three kids? the classic defence of panicking men losing control.
I smiled. Amazingly, those words, which once chilled me to my bones, now hardly registered.
I dont need a queue of suitors, James. All I need is myself. And the kids. The only dead weight here is you. Im letting go.
At that moment, Harry bounded into the kitchen with his new car, stopped dead in front of James, crinkled his nose and declared, Dad, you smell like that tramp by the shop.
Then he was gone again, back to the joy under the tree.
James stood in the hallway, stunned, watching a vision of family happiness that hed methodically cut himself out of. For a split second, he looked straight through me like I was a stranger, not his convenient wife.
Em he started, smaller than Id ever heard him, Can we talk? I wont do it again, I promise
Coffees on the table, I said, brushing past him. Have a cuppa and go. Ill pack your things by tonight.
I collapsed onto the carpet with the kids Tommy scrambled onto my lap, showing me his blocks, Molly hugged in beside us. James just stood there, watching a family that didnt need him, not really, not anymore.
That morning, I think he finally realised the door Id shut the night before was closed for good not just with a lock, but with self-worth.
Thats it, really. If you got to the end, thanks for sticking with me. Give me a thumbs up if this hit your heart it means the world.
