—So what? Me and Bill are fine. We’re a model family, no issues, the kids turned out just fine.
—Bill, did you forget your keys again?— Margaret sighed, recognising the familiar cough outside the door. Her husband never rang—just stood there waiting for her to figure it out.
—Forgot,— Bill muttered, squeezing into the hallway. —Rushed this morning. Big meeting coming up.
Margaret watched him kick off his shoes, leaving them in the middle of the floor, and silently moved them to the side. Forty years of marriage had taught her not to fuss over small things. Bill was the chief engineer at the factory, overseeing major projects—he wanted peace and quiet at home. Was it really so hard for her to tidy up after him?
—How was work?— she asked, serving him a bowl of beef stew.
—Same as ever. Management breathing down our necks, workers not keeping up, outdated equipment. But we manage.— Bill flipped absently through the newspaper, eyes fixed on the page.
Margaret thought about mentioning their neighbour, Mrs. Thompson, who’d been complaining about her alcoholic son earlier, but changed her mind. Bill didn’t need other people’s problems after work.
—Actually,— her husband suddenly looked up. —Williams got a promotion. Transferring to London, head office. Bigger role, triple the salary.
—Good for him,— Margaret nodded, clearing the table.
—He recommended me for his old position,— Bill said quietly.
Margaret froze, plates in hand.
—What do you mean?
—The director’s deciding next week. If it goes through, I’ll be deputy chief engineer. Nearly double the pay, better benefits, longer leave.
Bill spoke calmly, but Margaret heard the quiet excitement in his voice. She knew him inside out. He’d wanted this promotion for years but never let his ambition show.
—Bill, that’s wonderful!— She sat beside him, taking his hand. —You’ve earned it. All these years of hard work, never let the factory down.
—Nothing’s certain yet,— he shrugged, but the look on his face told her he was already imagining the new role.
That evening, Bill was unusually lively. He talked about projects he’d oversee, business trips, finally replacing their old Rover with a new car. Margaret listened, happy for him. After dinner, they even put on music and danced in the kitchen, like they used to.
The next day, Margaret ran into Williams’ wife, Sarah, in the courtyard.
—Congratulations!— Sarah smiled. —John told me Bill might take his old position. Fantastic opportunity—we’re thrilled for you.
—Thank you, but nothing’s final yet,— Margaret said carefully.
—Oh, it’s practically settled. John says they’re not even considering other candidates. Bill’s the best in the department—everyone respects him.
Margaret walked home with a light heart. So Bill wasn’t just hoping—if Williams said so, the promotion was almost guaranteed.
She decided to make a special dinner. She went to the shop, bought ingredients for a roast, Bill’s favourite biscuits. As she cooked, she hummed to herself. It had been ages since she’d felt this happy.
Bill came home late, tired and grim.
—What’s wrong?— she asked.
—Nothing. Just a long day.— He sat at the table but didn’t touch his food.
—Bill, talk to me. Did you hear anything about the promotion?
—They’ll decide next week.
—Is there a problem?
He was silent for a long moment before sighing.
—It’s not that simple. There’s competition. Richardson’s in the running. So’s Carter from the other department.
—But Williams said you were the best candidate!
—Williams said, but it’s not his call. Richardson’s got connections—his wife works at the council, and his nephew’s married to the director’s niece.
Margaret’s chest tightened. Was it not as certain as she’d thought?
The next day, she visited her friend Linda, who worked in HR at the same factory.
—Listen,— Margaret started before she’d even taken off her coat. —What do you know about Bill’s promotion?
Linda put the kettle on, fetched biscuits, and sat across from her.
—There’s a vacancy. Bill’s definitely in the running.
—But what else? Who’s competing? What are his chances?
—Margaret, you know I can’t discuss internal matters,— Linda hesitated.
—Linda, we’ve been friends for years! Just tell me something. Bill’s tearing himself apart, and I don’t know how to help.
Her friend sighed, then leaned in.
—Fine, just between us. Bill’s got a good shot. He’s the best qualified. But there’s a catch. You heard about the new vetting process?
—What vetting process?
—For management roles now, they check not just the candidate but the whole family. Reputation, conduct, any skeletons in the closet.
Margaret frowned.
—So what? Me and Bill are fine. We’re a proper family—no scandals, kids turned out well.
—Of course, of course,— Linda nodded quickly. —Just know they’re thorough. Especially with the new director—he’s big on discipline.
Margaret left deep in thought. What kind of check? What could they possibly find wrong in their family?
At home, she racked her brain. Their son, James, was an engineer in another city, settled with a family. Their daughter, Emily, was married with two kids, husband doing well. Margaret herself had spent her career at the library—respectable. Bill never drank, never caused trouble, neighbours had only good things to say.
But the worry wouldn’t leave. She started combing through every little thing that could harm their reputation.
That evening, when Bill got home, she couldn’t hold back.
—Bill, is it true they vet the family before promotions now?
—Where’d you hear that?— he asked, surprised.
—Linda mentioned it. She works in HR.
—Well, they vet, they vet. What’ve we got to hide?— He shrugged, but Margaret saw the tension in his shoulders.
—Nothing to hide. Just curious what they look for.
—Standard things. Background checks, references, any debts or criminal records. Routine.
But she could tell he was holding something back. She knew him too well to miss it.
The next few days dragged in anxious silence. Bill was withdrawn, barely speaking. Margaret tried to cheer him up, cooking his favourites, but he had no appetite.
Then the unexpected happened.
A constable, Mr. Harris, came to the house. An older officer they’d known for years.
—Good evening, Margaret,— he removed his hat. —Is Bill home?
—He is. What’s this about?
—Just routine. Need to clarify something for a report.
Bill came out, greeting the constable stiffly.
—Bill, you remember that incident five years back? When your neighbour, Mr. Clarke, assaulted his wife, and you filed a report?
—I remember,— Bill said shortly.
—Well, we need to confirm details. You testified you witnessed the altercation. Now Clarke claims no one was home and that you filed the report at your wife’s urging.
Margaret’s stomach dropped. She *had* asked Bill to step in for their poor neighbour. Clarke had beaten his wife, Susan, regularly—she’d cried to Margaret but was too scared to go to the police herself.
—Is that true, Bill?— the constable asked. —Did your wife ask you to file the report?
Bill hesitated. Margaret could see him wrestling with it.
—It’s true,— he finally said. —She asked me. But I saw the bruises on Susan Clarke myself.
—Right,— the constable noted something. —So you didn’t give false testimony, but you wouldn’t have reported it unprompted?
—Probably not,— Bill admitted.
When the constable left, the house was heavy with silence.
—Bill,— Margaret said softly. —You don’t regret standing up for Susan, do you?
—No,— he said tiredly. —But see how it looks? I filed a report because my wife told me to. Means I’m weak-willed, no principles, led by my wife.
Margaret sank into a chair. Only now did she see the trap she’d set.
—But it was the right thing to do!
—Right, yes. But bad for my career.— Bill gave a bitter smile. —A leader makes his own decisions, doesn’t take orders from his wife.
Margaret thought of all the times she’d advised him, asked things of him, influenced his choices. How many times in forty years? She’d always prided herself on being a wise wife, gently steering him, helping him avoid mistakes.
Now that same wisdom might’ve cost him his promotion.
The decision came a week later. Richardson got the job. Officially—due to more leadership experience.
But Linda later told Margaret the truth: during vetting, it was noted that Bill often acted on his wife’s influence. For a leadership role, that was deemed unsuitable
