“Stand by your sister in her time of need,” their mother reminded them after the divorce.
“Dont you care to help her? Shes struggling since the split,” the mother scolded.
The two sisters sat at the round table in their mothers home, weathering the storm of her complaints.
“That Jake of yours is nothing but a spoilt boy!” Mrs. Whitmore scoffed bluntly. “Works temp jobs, barely brings home a penny!”
“Mum, is three thousand quid really not enough for you?” snapped the youngest, Emily.
“I couldnt care less. The point is, he ought to provide for you properly,” the mother retorted, lips pursed.
“He does,” muttered the young woman with a frown.
“I dont see it! Just yesterday, you borrowed two hundred from me,” Mrs. Whitmore shot back. “If he cant even feed you, leave him! Find someone better. And honestly, the mans not all there, is he?”
“Mum, youre going too far,” interjected Charlotte, who had stayed silent until now, leaping to her sisters defence.
“Im only speaking the truth! Hes ginger, for heavens sake, and cant even speak right,” Mrs. Whitmore sneered, rolling her eyes. “Really, Emily, you deserve better. Before its too late, you should leave him,” she added, turning to her youngest.
“Mum, Jakes got a real knack for fixing things. And looks arent everything,” Charlotte argued, watching her mother bully Emily. “If moneys all you care about, hes got a flat, a car, and he loves her. You can see that!”
Mrs. Whitmore glared at her eldest daughter, as if her opinion was nothing but interference.
“Youre pushing forty and still singlespare us your sage advice,” the mother snapped, brushing Charlotte aside. “At your age, you take what you can get.”
Emily listened quietly, her gaze flickering between them with detached amusement.
“And you rave about him! A poky studio in some run-down block, a car thats nothing to brag about… nothing impressive!” Mrs. Whitmore scoffed.
“Emily, what do *you* think?” Charlotte pressed her silent sister. “Have a voice, wont you?”
“I dont know… maybe Mums right,” Emily murmured, her initial loyalty wavering. “Hes been telling me lately I ought to get a job…”
“See!” Mrs. Whitmore crossed her arms. “There you have it. Chilling, isnt it?”
“And why *shouldnt* Emily work? Most people dont have the luxury of sitting about. If anything, Im surprised Jake put up with it this long,” Charlotte countered.
“Why defend him?” The mothers eyes narrowed.
“Because Im afraid your meddling will ruin her life,” Charlotte said evenly.
“None of your business,” Mrs. Whitmore barked. “You dish out advice, but Emily *deserves* better. If Jake truly loved her, hed move mountains for her. As it stands, hes neither handsome nor rich.”
Emily, wide-eyed, drank in her mothers words.
The spell worked. Soon, Emily began echoing the complaints.
“Are *you* happy with your salary?” she asked Jake later.
“Its alright. Why?”
“Im not,” Emily said flatly. “You should find something better.”
“Better? Im fine where I am,” he replied, casual but uneasy.
“Well, *Im* not!” she shot back. “Tiny flat, shabby car… nothing to show off to the neighbours.”
“Odd. It never bothered you before,” Jake mused. “What changed?”
“Nothing. I just see things clearly now. Love blinded me before.”
“Right,” he muttered, hoping that was the end of it.
But under Mrs. Whitmores persistent influence, Emily nagged relentlessly.
“Listen, your whinings getting old,” Jake finally growled. “I heard you, but I cant magic up gold.”
“I want a man who *progresses*, not one who stays stuck!” she hissed.
“Sorry to disappoint.” He turned towards the bedroom. “Pack your bags.”
“*Where* should I go?” Emily arched a brow.
“Wherever theres a posh flat and a flash car,” Jake said coldly. “Wouldnt want you wasting your life on a failure like me. Im sure youll find some bloke to drown you in gold. I cant.”
Mrs. Whitmore was the first to hear Jake had kicked Emily out.
“That *bastard*! Whod have thought hed sink so low? You never shouldve married him,” she ranted, cursing her son-in-law.
“I just wanted him to do better,” Emily sniffled.
“Men like *him* never do. Dont worry, youll find someone richer. Jake will regret thishell crawl back begging,” Mrs. Whitmore assured her.
With no home or husband, Emily moved back into her old childhood room.
“What now?” asked Charlotte, summoned by their mother.
“Nothing,” Emily droned, staring at her phone.
“About finding work… any thoughts?” Charlotte nudged.
“No point. Ill land a wealthier man than Jake,” Emily said smugly.
“Why pester her? She needs rest after that ordeal,” Mrs. Whitmore cut in.
For nearly two months, she bankrolled Emilys lazy days on the sofa.
But soon, she faltered and called Charlotte for help.
Rushing over after work, Charlotte expected an emergency.
“Wont you help your sister?” Mrs. Whitmore demanded.
“With what?”
“Financially. Its hard on us both.”
“Who *made* you fill her head with divorce nonsense?” Charlottes retort stunned her. “Without you, theyd still be fine.”
“You!” Mrs. Whitmore clutched her chest. “How *dare* you? Jakes a spineless wretch! He couldnt handle a woman like Emily and ran. Get outI wont have you *criticising* instead of helping!”
Emily appeared, glowering at her sister.
“Youre taking *his* side after he threw me out?”
“You did this! Stop listening to Mum”
“Youll lecture *me*? Miss Spinster?” Emily sneered.
Charlotte shook her head, absorbing their shrill chorus, then walked out.
She was done. And so, it seemed, were they.
