Who will cook for us if you leave?
What on earth are you doing? Where are you going? And whos going to see that we eat? her husband muttered, watching Margaret after a row with his mother.
Margaret gazed out the window. The weather was damp and relentlessly grey, despite the fact that spring had supposedly begun. In their small northern town, the sun rarely made an appearance, perhaps explaining why the people so often seemed downcast and unwelcoming.
She realised she was smiling less and less. The frown-line etched upon her brow made her look ten years older than she was.
Mum! Im going out, called her daughter, Maisie.
Yes, yes, Margaret replied, not really paying attention.
Yes what? Give me some money.
Are walks not free anymore? she sighed.
Mum! Why do you ask such questions? Maisie fidgeted impatiently. My friends are waiting. Come on! Why so little?
Thats enough for an ice cream.
Youre so stingy, Maisie shot back, slamming the door without waiting to hear another word from her mother.
What an ordeal this was Margaret remembered, with some melancholy, how sweet Maisie had been before reaching her teenage years.
Margaret, Im starving! Is dinner ready? grumbled her husband, Leonard.
Its on the table, help yourself, she said with a note of indifference.
You could at least serve it to me?
Margaret nearly dropped the saucepan. The nerve of him
We eat in the kitchen, Leonard. If youre hungry, eat. If not do as you please, she replied, sitting down alone at the table.
Fifteen minutes later, Leonard sauntered into the kitchen.
Its gone cold disgusting.
You could have come earlier.
I asked you, didn’t I? Not a shred of affection, not the slightest effort for me! You know I watch the football! Leonard muttered, stuffing chicken into his mouth. Its not even good.
Margaret rolled her eyes skyward. Her husband had developed an obsession with footballLondon tickets, scarves, costly kitsthough hed never given the game a second glance before.
Without even sitting, Leonard grabbed a beer and a bag of crisps and shuffled off in front of the telly. Margaret was left to clear up the table, alone.
All her hard work for nothing. No one seemed to care for her efforts.
She was weary, worn out from her shift at the hospital where she led the nursing team. Every day was a barrage of complaints and illness to tend, and the stressful atmosphere at work followed her home, where chores simply piled up with no help from anyone.
Is there any left? her husband called, rummaging in the fridge. Whys there none left?
You drank it all! Am I supposed to do your shopping as well? Honestly, Leonard, have some decency! Margarets voice cracked.
Youre too sensitive he grumbled, slamming the fridge door before stomping out to fetch more drinks for the next match.
Margaret decided to go up early, knowing tomorrow would be another long day, but rest would not come. She fretted about Maisie. Where was she? With whom?
It was fully dark outside, and still Maisie had not returned. Margaret didnt dare ring her, fearing a sharp rebuke.
Youre embarrassing me in front of my friends! Stop pestering me! Maisie had barked on the phone before, so Margaret had stopped calling, reminding herself her daughter was now eighteen. Not working, not studyingshed left school to find herself.
Half-asleep, Margaret heard her husbands jubilant shoutsno doubt another goalfollowed by boisterous chat with a neighbour who had dropped by unannounced. The neighbour, and his partner, had stayed to support the team. Late at night, Maisie finally came home, made herself something to eat with all the ceremony of slammed pots and plates, and went straight to bed. At last, when the house was quiet and Margaret was about to drift off, the cat began yowling for his dinner.
Is there anyone in this house who can feed the cat besides me? she exclaimed, exasperated and at the end of her tether. She hoped someone might hearand care. But her daughter just shrugged with her earphones in, and Leonard was already snoring in front of the television with an open can in hand.
Ive had enough well and truly enough, Margaret thought to herself.
The following morning, the telephone roused her from sleep; it was her mother-in-law.
Margaret, my dear, remember the seedlings need planting? And we need to get out to the country and give the place a tidy
Yes, I know, Margaret sighed.
Good. Well go tomorrow.
She spent her only day off out in the country, under her mother-in-laws critical eye.
No, hold the broom like this! she commanded from her seat on the bench.
Im nearly fifty, Edith, Margaret dared reply, I do know how to sweep by now.
Oh, if only Leonard were here
And where is your Leonard? Why didnt he come to help his own mother? Why did we have to take the bus for three hours? All you ever talk about is Leonard, Leonard
Hes tired.
And me? You dont think I am?
That was the breaking point Margaret wished shed held her tongue. Edith, always so vocal and partial to justice, had never once shown it in Margarets favour. All her life, Edith had idolised Leonard and tolerated Margaret merely out of necessity.
They returned home by bus, neither saying much to the other. The next day, Edith complained to her son, and Leonard exploded.
How dare you speak to my mother that way? he barked. If it werent for her
For her what? Margaret crossed her arms, realising she was tired of being spoken to this way.
Well, youd still be working at the old surgery! he spat, playing his trump card, reminding her that Edith had helped her get a post at the county hospital. The wages were higher, but so was the stress and the grey hairs. Margaret had regretted leaving that quiet surgery for the madhouse more times than she could count. What are you doing? her husband stopped, seeing what Margaret was up to.
What Margaret had done next was something Leonard could not have imagined.
