Came Home Early
“Are you at the bus stop?” Toms voice cracked at an uncomfortably high pitch. “Right now? Why didnt you let me know? Werent we supposed to say Thursday?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Emily frowned. “Tom, why dont you sound happy? Im knackered. Come out, will you?”
“Wait!” he suddenly yelled. “Dont come here. I mean, do but Look, Emily, honestly, the flats bare as Old Mother Hubbards cupboard. I finished off absolutely everything yesterday. Look, how about you nip round to the Tesco Express by the corner? Grab a bit of beef, yeah? Some decent stuff.”
The weight of the bag yanked at Emilys shoulder until she let out an involuntary yelp.
A sharp twinge shot up her backher now-constant companion for the past two monthsall the way down to her tailbone.
She carefully lowered the bursting bags onto the battered tarmac at the bus stop.
Emily exhaled, pressing her palm to the top of her bump.
The little one inside gave an irritated wriggle. Six months goneno joke, especially when you decide to surprise your husband and come back from your parents three days earlier than planned.
Shed missed him so much that shed spent the last sixty miles counting telegraph poles from the bus window.
I wonder what Toms up to. Bet he hasnt the faintest Im just ten minutes from home.
The walk to the block seemed to go on forever.
Her bags, loaded with parental offeringsjars of jam, her dads home-cured bacon, heavy applesmight as well have been full of bricks.
Fifty steps in and Emily knew she wouldnt make it. Her back was about to pack in.
She dug out her phone and rang Tom.
“Hello love,” she whispered when he finally picked up.
“Emily? Whats wrong?” He sounded terrified.
“Nothings wrong, silly. Im home!
Im outside the block. Please come help me.
These bags are impossible, Mums been at it again”
A strange pause followed. Emily checked the screen to see if theyd disconnected.
“Youre at the bus stop?” Tom squeaked. “Now? Why didnt you say? We agreed on Thursday!”
“I wanted a surprise,” Emily frowned. “Tom, why arent you happy? Im shattered. Come on, help!”
“Wait!” he started hollering. “Dont come overwell, do, but Look, the fridge is empty, I ate the lot last night.
How about you pop by the all-night shop, the one round the cornerget some decent beef.”
“Im off work anyway today, took a day off. I wanted to make you a proper lunch, welcome you home properly.”
“Beef, Tom? Really?” Emily was gobsmacked. “Are you kidding? Im six months pregnant, lugging two suitcases, standing out here on the street!
My backs killing me! Whats wrong with potatoes? Weve got eggs. Just come get me. Im hungry and want to lie down.”
“No, Em, you dont get it,” he started flapping even faster, talking over her, “I want everything to be perfect. Its two minutes to the shop. Grab a couple of steaks, some new potatoesthe ones weve got are most definitely past it.
If its too heavy, ask someone for help, or just do it in little bits
Please, love, its for us. Ill get things ready here while you shop.”
Emily looked at her sore, red hands, the handles of those bags gouging her skin. Something hot and prickly welled up in her chest.
“Tom, are you out of your mind?” her voice wobbled. “You want your pregnant wife to drag herself to Tesco for beef, just so you can cook a roast?
Why cant you just come down and do it yourself?”
“Ive already erm started prepping! If I leave now, itll all go to pot.
Emily, please, Ive been waiting for you. Just get the beef, about 800 grams, and a small bag of spuds, the ones in the netting.
Go on, Im waiting!”
He hung up. Emily stared at the darkened screen.
She couldnt wrap her head around it. She wanted to burst into tears right then and there, under the cold glow of the street lamp.
Instead of hugs and a warm bedoff to the meat aisle.
Maybe he really is planning something amazing? suddenly flashed through her mind.
She sighed, heaved her bags and, hobbling, set off for the shop.
***
Emily pushed the trolley along the aisles, collecting pitying looks from the bleary-eyed cashier.
The beef was heavy, and the net of potatoeswell, it was verging on monstrous.
By the time she left the shop, her hands had basically ceased to function. Her fingers were more like two bent-up coat hooks.
Her phone rang again.
“You got it?” Tom chirped.
“Got it,” Emily gritted out. “Im at the door. Open up.”
“Wait!” Tom nearly shrieked. “Dont come up! Stay on the bench. Ten minutes. Tops.”
“Are you having a laugh?” Emilys voice broke into a shout, ignoring the handful of passersby. “Tom, Ill go into labour out here with rage! Ten minutes? My ankles are the size of melons, I cant stand!”
“The surprise isnt ready!” he insisted. “If you come up now, all for nothing. Sit on the bench, get some fresh air.
Five minutes, swear on my mum. Gotta go, or Ill never finish!”
She collapsed onto the battered bench by the block door, bags thudding to the ground.
She wanted to lob the ridiculous packet of beef through their third floor window.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Emily sat, arms wrapped around her bump, feeling the storm of frustration boiling inside.
She pictured walking inwould it be a sea of roses? Candles and croissants? A violinist hiding in the loo?
None of that was worth making a very pregnant woman wait outside after a sleepless night.
At minute thirty-five, the entryway door creaked.
Tom bolted out. He looked half-cracked: t-shirt inside out, sweat pouring, hair sticking up like hed licked a socket.
“Oh, youre still here!” he forced a grin, grabbing the bags. “Whats with the sour face? Look at the weatheroh, right. Come on in then!”
“What are you soaked with?” Emily squinted, hauling herself painstakingly off the bench, gripping the rail. “And why do you reek of bleach from half a mile away?”
“Youll see!” he bounced towards the lift like a toddler on Red Bull.
They went up. Tom flung open the flat door, waiting for thunderous applause.
Emily stepped inside, instantly slapped in the nose by bleach and some bargain air freshener, Sea Breeze apparently.
She stepped through to the living room. Then the kitchen. Even peeked into the bathroom.
The flat was sparkling. Welldisturbingly empty, more like.
All the usual laundry piles had vanished. The carpet was vacuumed (still damp here and there), dust wiped. Her little ornaments huddled awkwardly in one corner.
“Well?” Tom shone with pride, like a newly minted pound coin. “Hows that? Surprise!”
Emily turned to him slowly.
“Is that it?” she said quietly.
“What do you mean, is that it?” Tom half-sat in disbelief. “Em, have a look! Ive been scrubbing here for three hours!
Cleaned all the floorseven under the sofa!
Did all the dishes, the loo is gleaming.
I wanted you to come home to a spotless flat, not have to lift a finger.
Ive been running around like a maniac. While you well, while you were shopping.”
Emily felt the lump rising in her throat.
“You mean to tell me” she stammered, fighting back tears. “For the sake of mopping the floors, you left me at the bus stop,
and sent me shopping? You couldnt pick me up because you were cleaning?”
“Of course! I was trying to do something nice! You always moan I never do housework.
So look, heres proof.
You showed up early, I was rushed off my feet! Had to stall you so I could finish.
And now look at your face, like Ive spat in your tea instead of cleaned the loo.”
“Tom, are you dim?” Emily broke, her voice leaping a full octave. “I dont care about the bloody floors!
My back hurts, the bags were killing me.
Im pregnant, Tom! Do you get the word? Preg-nant!
I needed you to hold my hand and walk me home. Not mop the bloody flat!”
Tom turned beetroot red, then lobbed the rag hed been clenching into the sink.
“Oh, there we go!” he bellowed back. “Youre never happy! I, like some complete muppet, crawl around on my knees all morning, trying to do a nice surprise.
And you walk in and start shouting!
Did you even see? Its cleaner than our wedding day in here!”
“I dont care if its Buckingham Palace, not at this price!” Emily fumed, breathless. “You had me outside on a bench for half an hour.
I got frozen, my legs are buzzing.
Had me buy meat and potatoes when I could barely walk! This is not a surprise, its torture!”
“Oh, torture, is it?” Tom started pacing, arms flapping. “Well, sorry Im not perfect!
Any other womand be thrilleda tidy house, husbands cooking. But you
Its always my bump this, my back that.
Well, Im tired too! Didnt sleep a wink, just staring at the clock, thinking what would put a smile on your face!”
Emily covered her face with her hands.
“You just dont get it,” she sobbed. “You went for a shiny skirting board over my health.”
“Whats the skirting got to do with it!” Tom exploded again, thumping the table. “You came back early! You ruined the surprise!
If youd just stuck to Thursday, Id have finished everything, and youd walk into a spotless flat, job done.
Noyou had to show up in the dead of night! And now youre making out Im the villain!
Youre just ungrateful, Emily. Totally ungrateful.”
He stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the bedroom door so hard the windows shook.
The baby kicked again. Emily slumped onto a chair, eyeing the packet of beef that Tom hadnt bothered sticking in the fridge.
She felt quite poorlynausea rolling over her in waves.
Ten minutes later the kitchen door inched open.
“So am I making the beef then?” he grunted. “Or are you on hunger strike to annoy me now?”
“Leave it, Tom,” Emily replied quietly, not even looking round. “Just leave me alone. I want to sleep.”
“Fine!” The door slammed again.
Emily staggered to the bathroom.
She stared at herself in the mirror: pale, dark circles, hair standing on end.
She remembered the bus ride, picturing Tom hugging her, saying, “Thank God youre home.”
Yeah, right. Hugged
When she came out, the argument picked up where it left off.
Her husband yelled again, then chucked a lump of beef at her.
She left the house with nothing but her coatlucky she hadnt changed clothes.
Back to her parents she went.
***
Everyonehis parents, his sister, their distant relationspleaded with her not to get a divorce.
Even Tom rang regularly, begging her to return.
But for Emily, the decision was crystal clear: a husband who puts a spring clean above the health of their baby is no husband at all. That divorce was happening, no question.
