Don’t Bother Unpacking Your Suitcase—You’re Moving Out Tonight: A Modern British Tale of Marital Betrayal, Christmas Party Troubles, Cheating “Bunnies,” and Divorce with a Dash of Dark Holiday Humour

Author Emily TaylorReading 8 minViews 4

31 December

Today, I realised life sometimes pulls the rug from under you in ways you can’t see coming. It’s funny, in retrospect. But tonight well, it all still feels quite surreal.

Let me begin from the top. Id barely unpacked my suitcase when Emily strode in, all business, and said, Dont bother making yourself at home youre leaving.

Startled, I asked what on earth was going on. Lying on the sofa, Tom didnt even get up as he announced, Well, my dear, youre leaving me! So keep your things packed were splitting up and youre moving out tonight!

I blinked, sure Id misheard him. My dear? I remembered the joke hed made to Sarah when she called him bunny once the tallest, least bunny-like man in London; nearly two meters tall if he stretched.

Sarah had just laughed: Youll be a turbo-bunny trample everyone and bounce away! They always had these daft inside jokes Sarahs as quick with a quip as anyone Ive known.

Hed even tried to ask about the bunny costume size once, to which Sarah groaned, Oh, honestly! I should have known our bunny suit is tiny! Then, after a pause, she rallied. Well, how about playing Father Christmas instead? Hes taller, and besides, the coat is always a bit long for young Oliver.

Tom eyed the coat. Will it actually fit me?

Its always a touch roomy on him should fit! Sarah reassured. She went on, As for the script improvise! Youre clever, youll manage. Ill back you up.

Sarah worked for an events company arranging festive dos, and that year, their go-to bunny was down with a nasty case of pneumonia just before New Years Eve. Panic stations all round: three roles needed filling for childrens parties Father Christmas, Sarah as the Snow Maiden, and the comic bunny. Now, just days to go, the bunny was sick and they had no understudy. The agency boss, ever the eager creative, insisted on keeping the trio: Well bring a fresh twist to tradition! He always had some theory about modernising the old ways even Father Christmas had to get with the times.

So Tom ended up donning the crimson coat and white beard, which, to my surprise, suited him. The bunny, meanwhile, wore a white plush costume with a backpack and an enormous cloth carrot poking out the back the sort of thing that five-year-olds find hilarious.

As December drew to a close, I was glum. Emily, my wife, had dashed off to Manchester to nurse her unwell mum (her third trip in two months). I offered to go along but she insisted I shouldnt spend New Years in a hospital: Go out, see friends! No sense in us both being miserable. But parties were all planned, and I didnt want to force myself on anyone.

Sarah rang. She offered me a way to keep busy and, though I hardly needed the cash (my job as an analyst paid well enough for us both), I thought why not? Better than sulking at home.

The Father Christmas gear fit miraculously well. The boots, beard, even the old fake moustache all worked. So off we went, spreading cheer: children recited poems, the bunny bounced around with the carrot, and adults beamed. There was hot chocolate and tinsel, and for a while, I forgot my gloom.

The final booking, 10pm on New Years Eve. After, Sarah had kindly invited me to hers; she and her husband were celebrating quietly with her mum, a teacher whod always liked me. It would be cosy and familiar.

At 9:45, sat in the car, I called Emily.

Hows Mum? I asked.

Shes as well as she can be, came the reply. Ill get through. Im just watching telly in my headphones, thinking of you.

Ill ring at midnight, I promised. Love you.

Love you too, bunny, she said, and hung up.

And thats where it gets odd. We arrived at our final stop and God help me there was Emily. My Emily, who shouldve been up north beside her ailing mum. There she was, standing on the doorstep, in her best dress and those shiny shoes. My mind reeled: had I gone mad? Shed refused my offer to drive her to Euston, saying shed rather take the train.

Could it not be her? Perhaps she had a twin but no, the same little mole above her left eyebrow. Maybe a trick of stress or drink? No everyone saw her standing there.

Inside, a bald, rotund bloke Id never seen before ambled in, cheerily declaring himself the birthday boy. He was tipsy and, frankly, quite revolting. Sarah stepped up, asking for the child but this man just laughed, Thats me! Decided to treat myself tonight!

Horrified, I realised what I was seeing. Emily, my Emily, giggling and clinging to this lout, swaying drunkenly to some awful tune. The penny dropped.

I could have made a scene then demanded an explanation, screamed at the both of them. But the embarrassment! The shame in front of Sarah, whod always been such a loyal friend. Instead, I changed my voice and played the role, forcing the birthday boy to recite a poem. Emily was too far gone to recognise me.

Afterwards, the three of them the bald man, Emily, and poor tipsy Victor in the bunny suit danced in a circle. I filmed it all, numb, thinking: so this is where the gifts from Mum shed given me really came from.

The party fizzled out soon after, the boorish host booting us out: Finished, I want my bed! Shoo, now! Back in the car, Sarah, ever insightful, mused aloud: Shes a pretty lass. What on earth could she see in him? I bit my tongue. I couldnt face going to their house for the countdown. I lied, claimed I had a fever, and dragged myself home.

At midnight, I did not call Emily.

I saw in the New Year alone, my chest hollow. I still loved her, but the love was already tainted. Forgiveness? Not an option. Divorce only way. The flat was mine outright, thank God.

By the second of January, Emily showed up, anxious I hadnt called. Taxi from the station, bags in hand, expecting everything to be as it was.

She stormed in: Whats going on? she barked when I didnt even rise to greet her.

I just said, Well, Emily, youre moving out. Dont unpack. Were through. Today.

She looked stunned, almost indignant. Where exactly am I supposed to go?

To your balding bunny, or perhaps your mum is she better now? I kept my voice even, heart pounding.

Youve got it all wrong, she whispered. How could you have found out? She fumbled for an excuse, but it was pointless. I laid it all out for her, guessing at ever more ludicrous scenarios private doctors, miracle workers, even funeral directors. Or maybe, Emily, you just needed different company for your little dance?

I showed her the video.

Emily just sat and stared, speechless what could she say? Yes, shed started an affair, just for fun and thrills, and because the bald man showered her with trinkets. The tedium of her days was the culprit, she claimed. Work, it seemed, was beneath her. I wondered grimly if Id only ever been a means to an end.

Had she confessed to a one-off mistake, I might have forgiven her, as I always tried to be the bigger man. But the endless lies? The deceit about her mum it hurt far more than the adultery.

She cried, pleaded, promised shed do better but it was too late. Id made my mind up: out shed go. Call me heartless, but I felt oddly justified.

So thats how it ended. I kept the flat, lost the illusions, and spent the first days of the year free. Sometimes, I think I should have made a scene that very night, right there among the tinsel and cheap wine. But then I suppose we choose dignity over drama for a reason. And really, I did all right in the end, didnt I?

The Long-Awaited Granddaughter Natalie Michaels couldn’t stop ringing her son, who was off at sea again. Still, there was no signal. “Oh, what a mess you’ve made, son!” she sighed anxiously, dialing his number once more. It was all in vain—no signal until he reached the next port, and that might not be soon. And now, of all times… Natalie Michaels hadn’t slept for two nights—this was what her son had done! * * * This story really began years before, back when Michael hadn’t even considered working long voyages. He was a grown man, but love just didn’t work out—nothing ever seemed right with the women he met! Natalie watched with an aching heart as her son’s relationships, with perfectly lovely and respectable girls (in her opinion), fell apart one after another. “You’re impossible!” she’d tell him, exasperated. “Nothing is ever good enough! What woman’s ever going to be able to meet all your standards?” “I don’t get your complaints, Mum. You’re just desperate for a daughter-in-law, and you don’t even care what kind of person she might be!” “That’s not true!” Natalie insisted. “I care very much that she loves you—and that she’s decent!” Her son’s meaningful silences only frustrated her more. How did the baby boy she’d raised, the one who once cried on her knees, suddenly seem to know so much more about life than she did? Who was the real grown-up here? “What was wrong with Natalie, then?” Natalie would demand, switching to another girlfriend’s name if her son stonewalled her. And so it went with Katya, Jenny, and Darina—each new girl, each new disappointment. “You’re impossible to please! You’re always chasing after someone new! Why can’t you just settle down, start a family—give me grandchildren, already?” Eventually, Michael changed professions entirely, joining a friend’s ship crew. Natalie tried in vain to talk him out of it. “Why, Mum? It’s a great opportunity! Do you know how much lads make at sea? I’ll look after us both.” “What good is the money if you’re never around and I don’t see you? I’d rather have a family than your paycheques!” “Families need providing for, too! Once I have kids, I won’t go out to sea anymore—I’ll have to raise them. So now’s the right time to work hard while I can. Everything else will follow!” Michael truly did earn a lot. After the first trip, he renovated the flat. After the second, he opened a savings account in her name. “This is so you never want for anything, Mum.” “I live just fine already! What I don’t have, are grandkids—and time’s passing by. I’m not getting younger, you know!” “Oh, stop it! You’re years off retirement! Don’t be daft!” her son teased. Natalie rarely touched his money, relying on her own modest pharmacy salary for her simple expenses. “Let it pile up on the card. When Michael finally looks, he’ll see how thrifty his mother is!” she thought. They lived this way for years. Back home between voyages, Michael met up with his mates, stayed out late, spent time with women he stopped introducing to his mother. When Natalie complained, he rebuffed her: “It’s so you won’t guilt me later about not marrying them. I just don’t plan on marrying girls like that, Mum!” That stung. Especially when he called her naïve. “You always think too well of people, Mum. You never really got to know any of those so-called fiancées. They always tried to impress you, but they weren’t as they seemed.” His words gnawed at Natalie, making her feel foolish for trusting strangers. But then, one night, she caught sight of him with a new girl and was filled yet again with the fierce urge to see her son settled. She brazenly approached them—Michael, a grown man, blushed scarlet. But a mother is a mother—he had to introduce them. Natalie took to Milly at once. Tall, slim, curly-haired, with an intelligent face and good manners. “Maybe he just needed time,” Natalie thought, elated. “Maybe there was a reason he never settled before. If he hadn’t waited, he wouldn’t have met such a lovely girl!” Michael and Milly saw each other all holiday long, and Natalie hosted the girl several times. She found her bright, lively, and delightful. But as Michael prepared for yet another voyage, Milly disappeared. “We’re not seeing each other anymore, Mum. Please, just leave it alone,” her son said. He left. Natalie fretted, but there was no one to ask about what might have happened. * * * A year went by. Michael was home several times, but always short when asked about Milly. “Good grief, what was wrong with her, then? What could possibly have gone wrong?” Natalie finally burst. “Mum, that’s between me and her. If I broke things off, I had my reasons. Stop prying into my life!” She nearly cried. “But I worry about you, Michael!” “Don’t!” he barked. “And don’t contact Milly, either. And stop nagging me!” Off he sailed again, leaving Natalie to her empty routine. Then, during a shift at the pharmacy, Milly walked in—shopping for baby formula, with a little girl in a buggy. “Oh, Milly, I’m thrilled to see you! Michael told me nothing, just upped and left for sea, and swore me off finding out about you!” Milly looked sad. “Let’s leave it at that, then.” Natalie’s heart raced. “Tell me, dear, did something happen between you? I know Michael—he can be difficult sometimes. Did he hurt you?” “It doesn’t matter,” Milly replied. “I’m not angry at him. We should be going, though—still need groceries.” “When you can, pop in—see me at work! I’m on different shifts.” Milly did come by, and bit by bit, Natalie drew out the story. Milly was pregnant by Michael, but he’d said a child didn’t fit into his life at sea and he wasn’t up for anything long-term. Then he vanished. “Off to sea again, I suppose,” Milly shrugged. “We’ll manage on our own.” Natalie practically dropped to her knees, gazing at the little girl. “So—this is my granddaughter?” “It would seem so,” Milly replied softly. “Her name’s Annie.” “Annie…” * Natalie was beside herself. She coaxed out of Milly that she was struggling—renting alone with a baby and no steady income, thinking of moving back to her own parents out of town. The thought of Annie leaving—her only granddaughter!—nearly broke Natalie’s heart. “You and Annie should come stay with me! I’ll help with everything, you’ll get a regular job, we have more than enough! Michael sends so much money, I can’t spend it all anyway. Annie deserves the best!” “What would Michael say?” “Who cares? If he can walk away from his own child and say nothing, it falls to me to put things right! When he comes home, he’s getting a piece of my mind, I can promise you!” So they moved in together. Natalie doted on Annie, rearranged shifts to spend more time with her. Milly found a job, working late, grateful to leave Annie in safe hands. At home, Natalie looked after her as if she were her own. Michael’s leave approached. Natalie imagined greeting him—grandchild in arms—demanding apologies to Milly. Milly grew nervous, dreading being thrown out once Michael returned. “He’ll never let us stay, I knew I shouldn’t have moved in!” Milly fretted. “He’ll say it’s all about the money. I’d rather go home to my parents than impose on your kindness.” “Nonsense! I own this flat—I decide who lives here! Let him try stopping me!” Milly protested, but Natalie insisted: “This is what I’m thinking—we should immediately transfer this flat to Annie. That way there’ll be no questions in future; it’ll be hers, even if Michael never marries. Especially since he’s not even listed on Annie’s birth certificate,” Natalie said gently, and Milly nodded, embarrassed. They went to the solicitor to arrange this, but were told Michael had to remove his name from the ownership first. Natalie was annoyed, but with Michael due back in days, she tried to be patient. Milly grew increasingly absent, working late, gathering her things into a hidden suitcase. Natalie confronted her. “You’re not moving out, are you?” “I’m sorry, Natalie—I have to go! Once Michael’s back, it’s better if we’re not in the way…” “You’re not going anywhere, not with my granddaughter!” Natalie replied firmly. “If you need anything, you’ve got the card, and the pin’s written down. Buy whatever Annie needs! And spend more time with her—you’re not a stranger here.” Milly was silent. Two days until Michael’s return. * On the morning of his arrival, Natalie went to Milly’s room to watch Annie sleep, but Milly was gone. Only Annie lay peacefully in her cot. “Where could she be? She’s never gone to work this early before…” Natalie went about preparing her son’s favourite foods. She pictured the reunion—her son apologising, Milly back any minute. Then the doorbell rang. Michael walked in, stunned to see his mother holding a toddler. “Hi, Mum. Who’s this? What on earth happened while I was gone?” “You should know better than anyone, shouldn’t you!” Natalie fixed him with a hard look. “Let me introduce your daughter, Annie! Now, what do you have to say for yourself?” “What? I don’t have any children! Mum, have you lost your mind? What’s all this about Milly?” Infuriated, Natalie filled him in on everything, scolding him fiercely. Michael clutched at his head. “Oh, Mum, you’re so— You never learn!” “Don’t you call me a fool again! I—” “She’s not my child, Mum! Milly lied to you, and you— You’re too trusting! That’s all she wanted—your money. What did she take?” “Nothing! I never—” “Check your accounts, Mum—I bet Milly’s already halfway across the country with them!” “She’s out at work!” Natalie protested. They argued until Michael finally agreed to wait and confront Milly together. Annie played unaware as Natalie continued defending Milly’s character. “When she comes back, you’ll see—she’s wonderful!” “So wonderful she’s conned you already!” Michael replied. “We’ll settle this with a DNA test!” Natalie insisted. Night came, then morning. Milly never returned. Neither the pharmacy nor any of the workplaces she’d mentioned had heard of her. Her things were gone—from the wardrobe, from the flat, but Annie’s remained. “My God. She’s just left her own daughter behind?” Natalie wept. “She seemed so trustworthy! Why didn’t you warn me what she was like?” “I didn’t want to worry you, Mum—you always see the good in people. I heard stories about her, but I didn’t want to break your heart.” They went to the police—no trace of Milly was ever found. She had disappeared, save for the bank card, later recovered at a train station. With Milly gone, Annie was allowed to stay with Natalie. The DNA test confirmed Michael wasn’t Annie’s father, but by then Natalie had fallen in love with the little girl and couldn’t part with her. She and Michael decided to raise Annie as their own. Milly was officially stripped of parental rights, and after endless forms, Natalie was granted guardianship of Annie—returning to work, finding a nursery, and providing a loving home. A year later, Michael returned from a voyage with news. “Mum, meet my wife—Sophie. We’re moving in together.” A nervous glance toward Annie’s room, but Sophie only smiled. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Michaels. Michael told me everything, and I admire you so much! I’d be honoured to help raise Annie with you.” Michael added, “I’m finishing up at sea, and Sophie and I will adopt Annie soon. It’ll finally be official.” Overjoyed, Natalie set the table, wiping a happy tear from her cheek. “My prayers have been answered! Come in, everyone—let’s celebrate our family!”