My husband invited his ex-wife round for the boys, so I went to celebrate at a hotel
Where are you putting that crystal bowl? I did ask you to keep it in the cupboard, it just doesnt suit the dinner set, Emma was doing her best to stay calm, though inside she was bubbling like a kettle. She nervously adjusted her apron and glared at her husband, who stood awkwardly shuffling a salad bowl from one spot to another.
Em, honestly, does it really matter? Matt gave his familiar, apologetic grin, which seemed even more infuriating than usual. Sophie always liked this bowl. Said the salad looked more festive in it. And since were all getting together for the twins sake, isnt it best to make everyone comfortable?
Emma paused, knife in hand, right above a half-chopped cucumber. She exhaled slowly, silently counting to three to stop herself from losing her temper.
Matt, she said quietly, her voice icy, let me clarify something. Were hosting this party in my home. I, your actual wife, have been preparing the food for two days, marinating the meat, baking cakes, scrubbing the floors. And now you tell me we should use an ugly bowl just because your ex-wife liked it? You actually think thats a reasonable argument?
Matt heaved a sigh and collapsed onto a chair, as though weighed down by the troubles of the world.
Em, please, dont start. We agreedthe twins are turning twenty. Big day. They wanted to see both parents. What was I supposed to say? Ask Sophie not to come? Shes their mum. Its just one evening. Well have dinner, say cheers, eat cake, and thatll be that. I just want it to be civil, no drama. Youre the sensible one here.
Sensible, Emma thought bitterly. It always meant easy-goingthe sort who swallowed her tongue, quietly endured, and pretended all was well while everyone walked all over her.
Emma and Matt had been married for five years. She accepted Matt with all his baggage: his child support payments, his constant trips to see the twins, Tom and Will, whod been tricky teens back then. She never stood in the way of their relationship. The boys often came round and Emma got on fine with them. But Sophie Sophie was another matter. Loud, bossy, always convinced that Matt was still hers, just on loan to another woman.
Ive no problem with the boys, Matt. And Ive even resigned myself to the fact you invited Sophiewhich, by the way, normal people do at a restaurant, not by dragging exes into their new wifes home. But why must I lay the table for her tastes? Maybe I should wear her favourite dress, copy her hair as well?
Youre overreacting, Matt grumbled, standing up. Okay, fine, Ill put the bowl away. Please dont sulk, Em. The boysll be here in an hour, Sophies bringing them. Her cars in the garage, so theyre picking her up. Lets just have a nice eveningfor the birthday, yeah?
He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and disappeared off to shave in the bathroom. Emma was left alone in the kitchen, surrounded by bowls, pots, and ingredients. The roast was browning in the oven; mushroom bake simmered on the hob. The smells were fantastic, but shed lost her appetite. It felt less like a celebration and more like a wake for her self-respect.
An hour later, there was a commotion in the hallway. Laughing, shouting, thudding feet.
Well, wheres our hero then? That voice, shrill and piercing, was unmistakeable. Matty! Were here!
Emma removed her apron, sorted her hair in the hall mirror, and went to greet the guests.
The hall was packed. The twins, Tom and Willboth towering over six feet nowwere wrestling out of their coats. Between them, like a reigning queen, stood Sophie. She wore a bright red dress, far too tight for her shape, and a hairdo so lacquered it shimmered.
Oh, Emma, hello, she tossed out, barely glancing at her. Her focus was already on Matt. Weve brought pressies! Matty, come on, lend your mum a hand with these bagspickled things in jars, mind.
Matt bounded out, excited and flustered.
All right, lads! Happy birthday! He hugged the boys, clapped their backs. Sophie, hi. Whats with the preserves? Weve got loads.
Oh, I know your loads, Sophie huffed theatrically, finally giving Emma a quick look. Emma probably did everything diet-friendlyno salt, no fat? Boys need proper grub. Homemade pickles, tomatoes, mushrooms. And I made real pork brawnnot that chicken jelly you did last time.
Emma felt her cheeks flush. Six months ago, Sophie had come to collect the twins and managed to criticise absolutely everything.
Hello, Sophie, Emma said coolly but politely. Come in. Theres plenty. Today Ive made beef brawncrystal clear.
Well see, Sophie sniffed, striding into the living room like she owned the place. Gosh, you still havent changed that sofa, Matty? Told you last year, it makes the room look older. And those curtains bit gloomy. Remember our last flat, always felt bright in there, didnt it?
Matt hurried after her, carrying bags of jars.
Were comfortable, Sophcosy.
Cosy? When the soul sings, not sitting in a mausoleum, she pronounced, collapsing onto the wrong sofa. Boys, go wash your hands! Emma, are you coming or just standing about? Hungry men to feed.
Emma clenched her fists until her nails pushed into her palms. Calm down, she told herself. Just for Matt. Just for the twins birthday.
She retreated to the kitchen, silent. Matt followed soon after.
Em, dont mind her, he whispered, grabbing plates. Shes always like thisdoesnt mean any harm. Just likes to boss folk. Ill help with the salads.
Ive got it, Emma replied sharply.
Dinner started off abysmally. Sophie planted herself to Matts right, dragging her chair so close their elbows almost touched. The twins sat opposite. Emma found herself at the end, near the doorway, like the hired help taking a break.
To my boys! Matt raised his glass. Twenty yearsflew by.
Oh, absolutely, Matty, Sophie chimed in, cutting him off. Remember taking me to hospital? Worst ice, car wouldnt start, you were running round the Ford Escort in your shirt, all flustered! And then shouting Who is it? under my windowhilarious!
She laughed loudly, laying a hand on Matts shoulder. He smiled sheepishly, lost in old memories.
Yeah, we were young and daft back then
And remember when Will fell into the puddle first time in his new suit? We were off to your mums birthday. You grabbed him, wailing, all muddy! Washed him in the fountain, didnt we?
And so it went. Sophie expertly steered the conversation only to times when theyd been a family: Remember our holiday in Devon?, Remember redoing the wallpaper?, Remember when you broke your leg and I spoon-fed you?
Emma sat there, picking at salad with her fork. She didnt belong, an outsider, a prop. The twins were glued to their phones, grunting agreement with their mum every so often. Matt, tipsy from the wine and nostalgia, joined right in, forgetting entirely that his actual wife sat beside him.
Emma, pass the bread, Sophie barked, mid-story about Matt teaching her to drive. Hes yelling Brake!, I press the throttle! Nearly crashed into the gates. Oh Matty, that’s when you went grey, I reckon!
Yeah, you were always a daredevil, Matt chuckled.
You were always mine, Emma thought, the phrase ringing out like a gunshot. She glanced at her husbandhe didnt even notice. He gazed at Sophie with calf-eyed fondness, as if she was the key to his youth.
The salads too salty, Sophie announced, diving into the Russian salad. Emma, you in love or something? People salt food when theyre swooning! Who foryour own husband? Ha! Matty, taste my brawnits gorgeous, proper garlicky.
She stretched right across the table to plonk a slice of her brawn onto Matts plate, over Emmas mushroom bake.
Sophie, take your hand away, Emma said quietly.
What? Sophie stopped. Whats your problem?
I said, take your hand off my husbands plate. And please take your brawn back. Theres plenty here that I cooked.
Silence fell. The twins looked up. Matt blinked in alarm.
Em, come on he mumbled. Its tasty, whats the harm
Oh, tasty? Emma slowly stood up. Her chair scraped the wood, sounding like metal grinding. So you like Sophies cooking? You enjoy reminiscing about twenty years ago? Youre happy having another woman running the show in your homecriticising the furniture, the food, and your wife?
Oh, get over yourself, Sophie snorted. Bit touchy, aren’t we? Just trying to help!
I dont need your advice, Emma stared her down, voice firm. Nor your company. I put up with this for Matt, for the boys. But youre all quite happy without me, it seems. All sunshine and memoriesyour Ford Escort, your holidays, your family. Im just the waitress here, meant to serve and stay out of sight.
Emma, stop, Matt tried to grab her hand, but she pulled it away. Youve got it wrong. We were just talking
Carry on then. I wont get in your way.
Emma turned and left the living room. Sophies loud whisper chased after her:
What a drama queen. Told you, Matt, shes not right for youshe thinks way too much of herself.
Emma went to the bedroom, hands trembling, but her mind was oddly clear. She grabbed a small holdall from the wardrobe, tossed in her toiletries, a change of clothes, pyjamas, her tablet. Changed out of her dress, feeling foolish wearing it, into jeans and a jumper.
She booked a cab on her phone. The driver would arrive in seven minutes.
Emma went to the hall, pulled on her boots and coat. She heard laughter from the living roomSophie telling stories, Matt guffawing. Clearly, shed already been forgotten. Probably assumed she was off to have a little cry and return later.
Emma stuck her head round the door.
Im leaving, she said clearly.
Silence. Matt turned, still holding his glass.
Where to? Shop? Forgot the bread?
No, Matt. Im going to a hotel. Ive got a celebration toothe day Im freed from rudeness and disrespect. You lot are having the time of your lives with your old guard. So celebrate away. Fridges full, cakes on the balcony. Dishwashers ready, tablets under the sink. Maybe Sophie can show off her skillsnot just at eating brawn but washing up too.
Youre mad! Matt leapt up, spilling his glass. Vodka spread across the tablecloth in a dark stain. A hotel? Its late! The guests here!
Theyre your guests, Matt. Not mine. Enjoy. Happy birthday, boys.
She walked out and shut the door, cutting off Matts shouting and Sophies offended squawking.
In the cab, Emma just watched the city lights flash past the window. Then she rang the citys best spa hotel.
Good evening, youve got a free room? Something deluxe or junior suite? Superb. Ill be there in twenty minutes. And please, have a bottle of champagne and a fruit platter in the room. And could I book a massage for tomorrow morningthe earliest slot?
The hotel smelled of luxury perfume. No hint of fried onions, no clatter of cutlery, no strangers voices. Her room greeted her with cool air and crisp white linen.
Emma showered, washing away the sticky residue of the evening, wrapped herself in a thick robe, poured a cold glass of bubbly, and stepped out onto the balcony. The city glittered far below.
Her phone started vibrating in the taxi, but shed put it on silent. In the room, she looked at the screen: fifteen missed calls from Matt, three texts.
What on earth was that?
Come home at once, Im mortified!
Emma, this isnt funnySophies fuming.
Emma smiled and switched the phone off. She sipped her champagne. For the first time in years, she felt entirely free. No worries about whether the meat would impress, if the telly was too loud, if Matt would take offence. She was alone, and it was glorious.
In the morning, she woke to sunlight. Stretched happily, ordered breakfasteggs benedict, croissants and coffee. Then had her massage, swam in the pool. She decided to extend her stay another night. She had zero desire to go home.
She only switched her phone on by early evening the following day. More messages this time, their tone frantic.
Emma, where are you? Im worried.
The boys left as soon as you did. Said wed made a circus.
Sophie went last night. Big row.
Please, answer.
Emma dialled Matt.
Hello! Em! Thank Godare you alright? Where are you? Matts voice shook.
Im at a hotel, Matt. Resting.
Im so sorry, he breathed. I was an idiot. I ruined everything.
Talk, thenhowd the school reunion go?
Horribly. The worst. After you left, Will got up: Youre a right pairmums a nightmare, dads a pushover. Emmas decent but you drove her out. He and Tom walked out. Didnt even have cake.
Emma felt sharp satisfaction. The boys were smarter than their parents.
And then?
Sophie started yelling, said Id raised ungrateful kids, accused you of turning them against her, bossed me to clear the table. I told her she could help, if she fancied herself head of the house. She screamed, smashed a platethe one from your mums set.
Smashed the plate? Emmas voice went cold.
Yeah By accident, arm waving. Id had enough, Em. Told her to call a cab and leave. Big argument. She dragged up everythingthe old days, my pay packet, my mum, how I ruined her life. I kicked her out.
Matt went quiet, breathing heavily into the receiver.
Im sitting here alone with the mess. Havent tidied anything. Cant face it. Emma, please come home? Im a fool, I get it now. No more exes herepromise.
You havent cleaned up?
No. Its all still here.
Good. Youve got till tomorrow morning. The whole place must sparkle. Not a trace of Sophieno pickles, no brawn. Bin the lot. If I show up and find so much as a crumb, or smell her perfumeIll walk out and file for divorce. Got it?
I got it, Em. Ill scrub everything. Just come home. I love you. I never meant I just wanted it nice
Its nice when you use your head, Matt. Not when you try to please everyone. Emmas tone was hard. Ill be back at lunchtime tomorrow. AndMatt, if you ever let anyone criticise me under my own roof again, I wont just go to a hotel. Ill leave for good.
She hung up. Outside, the city lights glimmered as evening approached. Emma finished her coffee. She felt a twinge of sympathy for Mattweak-willed and muddled in his quest to be a good dad. But more than that, she pitied herselfalways enduring, year after year.
Never again. That night away had flicked a switch. Emma realised she deserved to be in charge. Not sensible, not easy-going, just in charge of her own life.
The next day, when she came home, the flat smelled of lemons and bleach. Windows wide open, airing out yesterdays row. Matt, red-eyed and raw, met her in the hall.
I cleaned everything, he blurted, looking desperate. Even washed the curtainsthought they smelled of hairspray.
Emma inspected the kitchen. Not a thing out of place. No jars. The infamous bowl was gone.
Wheres the bowl? she asked.
Thrown out, Matt muttered. Along with the brawn. I never want to see it again.
She walked up to him, looked him in the face.
Alright, she said, taking off her coat. Put the kettle on. Lets finish the cakeunless you chucked that in a fit too.
Matt let out a sigh of relief and hugged her tightly, his nose buried in her shoulder.
I kept the cake. Its lovely. I had a slice last night in despair. Em, youre the best. Forgive me, will you?
Ill forgive. But this was the last time, Matt. Last.
They sat to drink tea. Emma looked at her husband and thought: sometimes, to save a family, you need to leave it behind. Just for a few days. When an empty seat says more than a hundred words.
