Claire stood by the window, watching as Edward circled the cul-de-sac in his shiny new car for what felt like the hundredth time. Mrs. Thompson from next door had already peered out from behind her net curtains three times, clearly irritated by the engine noise disrupting her evening telly. Still, Edward kept driving in loops like a schoolboy who’d just unwrapped the toy of his dreams.
“Dad, can I have a ride?” asked fourteen-year-old Lily, peeking over her mum’s shoulder.
“You’ll have to ask him yourself,” Claire said curtly, stepping away from the window.
Lily frowned. “Mum, what’s wrong now? He bought the car for all of us!”
“For all of us…” Claire gave a bitter laugh. “Do you know how much that thing cost? We’ve been scraping together pennies for the holiday cottage repairs, even your school trip money’s been tight.”
“But we needed a car!” Lily flopped onto the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. “Remember when we took the bus to Nana’s last summer? Three changes, all that heat—”
Claire leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Oh, she remembered. But she also remembered the six months of arguments with Edward. She’d suggested something modest, second-hand. He’d dug his heels in—”Either a proper car or nothing at all.” And now? A five-year loan they’d be paying off well into retirement.
The front door slammed, followed by cheerful footsteps.
“My girls!” Edward burst in, beaming. “Lily, fancy a spin? Oh—Claire?”
“I’m not Claire to you right now,” she snapped.
His smile faltered. “What’s the matter this time?”
“Everything’s the matter! You bought that car without even asking me! Took out a loan we’ll be chipping away at for years!”
“We talked about it—”
“We talked about getting a car, not some flashy rust-bucket for thirty grand!”
Lily winced and slipped silently out of the room. She was used to her parents’ rows, but she always hoped, just once, they’d smooth things over.
“Rust-bucket?” Edward flushed red. “That’s a top-spec German saloon—safe, reliable! I only want the best for my family!”
“And yet you couldn’t actually ask them?” Claire sank into the armchair, exhaustion crashing over her. “Edward, we agreed on a budget—”
“Agreed, agreed!” He paced, waving his arms. “And then what? Lugging groceries home on the bus like students? Or have you forgotten how your back ached last time?”
She remembered. They’d bought too much at the farm shop, and she’d carried heavy bags all the way from the bus stop. Her back had hurt for days. But now that seemed trivial compared to the mountain of debt they’d taken on.
“You know what,” she stood, “we’ll talk tomorrow. When you’ve cooled off.”
“I won’t cool off!” he shouted after her. “Because I’m right! And you—you’re never happy!”
The bedroom door slammed. Edward stood alone in the lounge, staring at the car keys in his palm.
By morning, Claire was up early as usual. Edward still slept, sprawled on the sofa—he must’ve stayed there all night. She flicked the kettle on. Outside, drizzle speckled the window, the sky hung low and grey, matching her mood.
“Mum?” Lily hovered in the doorway. “Can I skip school today?”
“Why?”
“Headache.”
Claire studied her daughter. Pale, shadows under her eyes.
“Because of us? Last night?”
Lily nodded without looking up.
“Sweetheart,” Claire pulled her into a hug, “we’re just… grown-ups who don’t always agree. It doesn’t mean we love you any less.”
“You’re not getting a divorce, are you?”
The question was so simple, so childlike, it stole Claire’s breath.
“Where’s this coming from?”
“Charlotte Parker’s parents split up. They kept fighting about money first.”
Claire released her and turned to the window. Divorce. She’d thought about it too, especially these past months. Edward making decisions without her. Them living separate lives under one roof.
“Mum?”
“Go get ready. Your head will clear on the way.”
Lily sighed and left. Claire stayed by the window, cooling tea forgotten in her hands.
“Morning,” Edward appeared in the doorway, rumpled and miserable.
“Morning,” she replied flatly.
“Listen, can we talk properly?” He slumped at the table, rubbing his face. “I know I messed up last night—”
“You didn’t mess up—you bought a car without consulting me.”
“Claire, we needed one! And I’m the one earning—”
“And what, I sit at home knitting?” She spun round. “Does my salary not count?”
“Of course it does! It’s just…”
“You think being the main earner means you call the shots with our money.”
His silence said more than words ever could.
“Right,” Claire set her cup down hard. “Then you can pay the loan yourself.”
“How’s that fair? We’re a family!”
“A family discusses things. But you decided, you bought, and now I’m left cleaning up.”
Edward stood, reaching for her. “Claire, when did you become so cold? Twenty years together—”
“Exactly! Twenty years, and you still don’t listen!”
She left him there, staring at his reflection in the microwave door.
At work, Claire couldn’t focus. Her colleague Margaret noticed.
“Everything alright? You look shattered.”
“Just… home stuff.”
“Edward’s done something daft again, hasn’t he?” Margaret had known her for a decade—nothing got past her.
“Bought a car. Fancy one. On finance.”
“Oof,” Margaret winced. “Been there. My Derek once surprised me with a £2,000 hoover. ‘Makes cleaning easier,’ he said. Like I’d asked.”
“Marg, have you ever… thought about divorce?”
Margaret’s eyebrows shot up. “Thought? Yes. Actually done it? At our age? It’s like learning to walk again.”
“It’s not about age,” Claire sighed. “It’s living with someone who doesn’t hear you.”
“Or maybe,” Margaret said gently, “you’ve stopped hearing him too?”
The question caught Claire off guard. When had she last truly listened to Edward? Not argued, not tuned him out—just listened?
That evening, the house smelled of roast chicken—Edward cooking? He rarely did.
“Mum, Dad’s made dinner!” Lily announced. “Proper roast with all the trimmings!”
“Marinated it for hours,” Edward added, almost shy. “Just how you like.”
Claire washed her hands in silence. The bathroom mirror showed tired eyes, new wrinkles, the grey roots she kept meaning to dye. Forty-three. Half a lifetime gone. Nearly half of that with Edward.
Dinner passed quietly. Lily chattered about netball tryouts while her parents picked at their food.
“Lily, homework,” Claire said eventually.
“But I haven’t finished—”
“Go on, love,” Edward echoed softly.
When they were finally alone, the silence thickened. Claire stacked plates while Edward spun a teaspoon absently.
“Claire,” he began, uncharacteristically hesitant, “I’ve been thinking today. About us.”
She paused but didn’t turn.
“And?”
“How we’ve grown apart. And how that’s probably my fault.”
Now she faced him. He was studying the tablecloth like it held answers.
“I never meant to upset you with the car. I thought… I thought it’d be a nice surprise.”
“Edward,” she sat opposite him, “it’s not about the car. It’s you deciding for both of us. Like my opinion doesn’t exist.”
“It does! Of course it does!”
“Then why didn’t you ask?”
He looked up then, and she saw genuine confusion.
“I don’t know. Maybe I was scared you’d say no. And I just wanted…” he trailed off.
“Wanted what?”
“For us to be… normal. Driving to your mum’s on weekends, not juggling train timetables. Remember how we struggled with the shopping bags last time?”
Suddenly, Claire didn’t see a stubborn man—just a lost one, fumbling for the right words.
“Do you know what I want?” she asked quietly.
“What?”
“For you to talk to me. For us to decide together—loans, holidays, everything. To be partners, not just… roommates.”
He nodded.
“I get that. Really. So… what now? With the car?”
“What do you suggest?”
“We could sell it. Get something smaller, like you said.”
She blinked. She’d expected excuses, not compromise.
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious. Claire, I don’t want a divorce. I don’t want to lose you. OrLily tiptoed back into the room, her small hand slipping into Edward’s as she whispered, “Does this mean we’re keeping the car and our family?” and Claire, despite herself, felt the first real smile in weeks tug at her lips as she reached for Edward’s other hand and gave the tiniest nod.
