“Where are you off to? And who’s going to cook for us?”
“What on earth are you doing? Where are you going? Who’ll make our meals now?” asked her bewildered husband, watching as Emmeline packed her things after yet another row with his mother.
Emmeline glanced out the window. A dreary, grey gloom lingered despite the early spring. In their little northern town, sunny days were rare, and perhaps that was why the folk here were so dour and unwelcoming.
Shed noticed it herselfher face seldom wore a smile these days, and the crease between her brows, always furrowed, added years to her appearance.
“Mum! Im going out!” called her daughter, Lottie.
“Right,” Emmeline nodded.
“Right? Give me some money, then.”
“Since when do walks cost anything?” she sighed.
“Mum! What sort of question is that?!” Lottie snapped, losing patience. “Theyre waiting for me, come on! And why so little?”
“Its enough for ice cream.”
“Youre such a miser,” Lottie muttered, already out the door before her mother could reply.
Emmeline shook her head, remembering what a sweet girl Lottie had been before adolescence took hold.
“Em, Im starving! Whens dinner?” her husband, Edward, bellowed impatiently.
“Go and eat, then,” she replied flatly, setting a plate on the table.
“Youre not serving it?” he asked.
She nearly dropped the pot. What nonsense was this?
“We eat in the kitchen, Ed. Take it or leave it,” she said, sitting down herself.
Fifteen minutes later, Edward slouched in.
“Its cold rubbish.”
“Took you long enough.”
“I asked you! Not a scrap of care or affection! You know Im watching the match!” He shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. “Tastes awful.”
Emmeline merely rolled her eyes. Football turned him into a strangerbets, merchandise, pricey tickets. Hed become obsessed, though in his youth, sport had bored him senseless.
Without sitting once, Edward snatched a can to “cheer up,” crisps “for hunger,” and retreated to the telly. Meanwhile, Em was left with the dirty dishes.
No one appreciated her work.
She was exhausted after her shiftshe worked as a senior nurse at the hospital. Each day brought fresh stress, and home was no sanctuary, just another jobfetch, serve, clean.
“Any more drinks?” Edward rummaged in the fridge. “Whys there nothing?”
“You drank it all! Must I buy more? Have some shame, Ed!” she finally snapped.
“Delicate, arent we?” He scoffed, slamming the door as he stormed off to restock for the next match.
Emmeline decided to sleeptomorrow promised another gruelling day. But sleep wouldnt come. She fretted over Lottiewhere was she? Who was she with? It was dark outside, and still no sign of her. Calling only led to rows.
“Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my friends?! Stop ringing!” Lottie would shriek. After a few such outbursts, Emmeline gave up, consoling herself that her daughter had just turned eighteen. She refused to work or study, opting instead to “find herself” after leaving school.
Just as she dozed off, Edwards triumphant shouts jolted her awakesomeone mustve scored. Then came the loud chatter with the neighbour whod dropped by and stayed too long, bringing his girlfriend along to “cheer.” Around midnight, Lottie clattered in, banged dishes, stomped upstairs, and went to bed. When silence finally fell, the cat began yowling for food.
“Can no one else in this house feed the cat?!” Exhausted, migraine-stricken, Emmeline stormed out. But Lottie had headphones on, merely tapping her forehead in disdain, while Edward snored before the telly, can still in hand.
“Ive had enough I cant take this anymore,” Emmeline thought.
The next morning, her mother-in-law rang.
“Emmeline, dear, dont forgetits time to plant the vegetables. And the cottage needs tidying.”
“I remember,” Emmeline sighed.
“Well go tomorrow.”
Her one day off was spent at the allotment under her mother-in-laws watchful eye.
“Thats not how you sweep! Hold the broom properly!” the older woman commanded from her bench.
“Im nearly fifty, Mrs. Winifred, I think I can manage,” Emmeline dared to reply.
“Edward wouldnt do it like that”
“And where is your son? Why didnt he drive you here? Why must we take the bus for three hours? Its always Edward this, Edward that”
“Hes overworked.”
“And Im not?”
It began then. Emmeline regretted speaking. Winifred loved fairnessso long as it favoured her. Shed spent a lifetime praising Edward, treating Emmeline like a beast of burden she grudgingly tolerated.
They rode home at opposite ends of the bus. The next day, Winifred complained to her son, who erupted.
“How dare you raise your voice at my mother?!” Edward fumed. “If not for her”
“What?” Emmeline crossed her arms. She knew she wouldnt endure this any longer.
“Youd still be at the clinic!” he shot back, reminding her Winifred had secured her the hospital jobbetter pay, but at the cost of her peace. More than once, shed regretted leaving that quiet clinic.
“What are you doing?” Edward fell silent, watching as Emmeline did the unthinkable.
