You could do with a housekeeper, not a wife.
Mum, Maisies chewed up my colouring pencil again!
Martha burst into the kitchen, clutching the half-eaten stub of green pencil, while their guilty golden Labrador trailed right behind her, tail wagging furiously. Elizabeth looked up from the stove, where a pot of stew bubbled and sausages sizzled angrily in the pan, and heaved a sigh. That was the third pencil today.
Pop it in the bin and get a new one from the drawer. Oliver, have you finished your sums?
Almost! drifted the reply from the lounge.
Elizabeth knew that almost from her twelve-year-old son meant he was glued to his mobile, the exercise book cast aside and forgotten. She would have liked to press the matter, but just then the sausages demanded her attention, she had to stir the stew, catch four-year-old Toby before he reached the dogs bowl, and remembersomehownot to forget the wash in the machine.
Thirty-two years old. Three children. One husband. One mother-in-law. One Labrador. And she was the only cog in this mad machine that seemed to turn.
Elizabeth rarely had time to fall ill. Not because she was blessed with iron health, but simply because illness wasnt an option. Who would feed the family otherwise? Who would get the kids ready for school? Who would walk Maisie? The answer was clear: no one else.
Lizzie, is supper ready soon?
Dorothy emerged in the doorway, leaning heavily on her cane. Eighty-five years old, sharp-minded and possessed of a hearty appetite.
In the five years Dorothy had lived with them, Elizabeth could count on one hand the times her mother-in-law actually helped around the house.
In about ten minutes, Mrs. Carter.
Mrs. Carter nodded with satisfaction and shuffled off back to the sitting room. Sometimesand only sometimesshed read Toby a fairy tale before bed. The Little Red Hen or The Gingerbread Mannot a vast repertoire, but Toby listened enraptured. Most of the time, though, Dorothy sat watching her soaps and waited for the next meal.
The clock on the wall showed it was half five when the front door key rattled in the lock. David stepped in, looking every bit like a man whod just run a marathon.
Is dinner ready?
Not even a hello. Elizabeth pointed at the set table. Her husband passed through to wash his hands, then dropped into his chair. The television sprang to life; the remote was practically fused to his palm.
Martha got a gold star for her reading today, Elizabeth tried.
Mm, David muttered.
And Oliver needs help with his science project.
Mm.
That was all you could hope for. After dinner, David moved straight to the sofa. His work day was done. Hed brought home the wages; the rest was not his concern.
When the children finally went to bed, Elizabeth opened her laptop. Her remote work for an online shop, processing orders, answering queries, arranging deliveriesit wasnt much, but it was her own money. And the rent from the small flat shed let out for four years added to the pot.
We really should move, she thoughtnot for the first time. But again, the excuses crept in: Oliver at a good school, Martha used to her nursery, the lost rent from the flat… Elizabeth closed the laptop. Tomorrow. Everything tomorrow.
December brought not just festive bustle but the flu. Within hours, her temperature soared to one-hundred-and-two, her body aching, throat burning, head throbbing. Elizabeth barely managed to crawl to her bed.
Mum, youre poorly, Oliver observed, poking his head into her room.
David followed, an anxious crease on his browbut the worry was hardly for her.
Just dont give it to Mums mum. At her age, the flus very serious.
Elizabeth shut her eyes. Of course. Dorothy Carter. Not just about herselfhow could she have forgotten?
Three days blurred into a feverish haze. High temperatures, sweat-drenched pillows, parched lips. Not once in those daysnor the husband, nor the mother-in-law, nor the childrenbrought her so much as a glass of water. The kettle was just ten steps away, but Elizabeth shuffled down herself, hands on the wall for support.
Everyone else only worried about Dorothy. Dont go in there, Mums infectious. Put a mask on if you pass Mums room. Maybe she should sleep somewhere else?
SheElizabethbecame a source of contagion, someone to protect the real family members from.
A week later, the virus made its rounds. First Tobysnotty, feverish, wailing. Then Martha. Then David flopped onto the bed, dramatically, with a mild fever. Dorothy succumbed last, with the greatest fanfare.
Elizabeth, barely recovered, had to get up: chicken broth, the chemist, checking thermometers, airing out the house, putting the wash on. All the usual chores, only now on legs made of jelly.
Dave, can you please take Toby for an hour? I need to go to the chemist.
David rolled his eyes in martyrdom but agreed. Exactly sixty minutes laterElizabeth checkedhe deposited Toby back in the bedroom.
Im exhausted. Ive got a temperature too, you know.
It was thirty-six point eight. Elizabeth had checked.
Spring was no kinder. Another virus, more sick children, endless sleepless nights. Toby crying, Martha refusing medicine, Dorothy demanding her favoured dinners. Amidst it all, Davidfit as a fiddle.
Dave, could you help with the children?
Lizzie, last time I helped because it was the weekend. Now Ive been at work all day, Im knackered.
He shrugged. A small gesture, but it said everything. Each night he arrived, sat at the table, waited for supper. Sick children, a worn-out wife, the chaos of a messy housenot his concern.
One evening, once Toby finally fell asleep and the older two were lost in homework, Elizabeth approached David. The TV droned on about the football.
Why dont you ever help? Why do you never help me?
David didnt turn. Didnt answer. Only raised the volume.
Elizabeth stood in silence for a moment, looking at the back of his head. Everything, suddenly, was crystal clear.
The next day she fetched the big bags from atop the wardrobe. Children’s clothes, toys, paperwork. Oliver paused in the doorway.
Mum, are we going somewhere?
Were going to Granny Iriss.
For long?
Well see.
Martha danced in delightGranny Iris always baked her favourite shortbread. Toby, not sure what was happening, dragged his plush rabbit just in case.
At the very last, Elizabeth remembered her other loyal family memberMaisie. The dog would come too.
David was sprawled on the sofa. The bags, the packed-up things, the children buttoned into their coatsnone of it drew his attention from the screen. When Elizabeth closed the door behind her, she could imagine him simply switching the channel.
Iris welcomed them without a single query. Fed them, hugged them. Fifty-eight, a schoolteacher with thirty years’ experienceshe understood without words.
Stay as long as you need, love.
The phone began to ring on the third day. It was David.
Lizzie, come back. The place is filthy. Theres nothing to eat. Your mum never stops asking for things.
No I miss you. No Lifes miserable without you. Only domestic inconveniences troubled him.
Dave, what you need isnt a wife, but a housekeeper.
What? Dont be silly
Have you, even once, said you missed your children?
Silence followeda long, telling silence.
I bring home the money, he finally said. What more do you want?
Elizabeth ended the call. It was over, and for some reason, she felt a curious sense of relief.
Two weeks later, the tenants left her flat. Moving took a single day. A new school for Oliver, a new nursery for Marthashe found, to her surprise, it was all much easier than shed imagined.
Their next conversation was the final one. All the unspoken resentment, all the swallowed words, every sleepless night shed spent nursing unwell children aloneit burst out in a torrent she couldnt restrain.
Do you hear me? Twelve years I was a free servant for you! Not once did you even ask how I was! How I was living! You You Ive had enough!
She blocked his number. Began divorce proceedings.
The court hearing took twenty minutes. David didnt argue. Signed the maintenance papers. Nodded to the judge, and left. Maybe he realised something. More likely, he just didnt want the bother.
That evening, Elizabeth sat in the kitchen of her new-old flat. Oliver read in his room. Martha scribbled at the table, tongue out in concentration. Toby busied himself with blocks on the carpet.
Peace. Calm. Maisie lay at her feet, muzzle on her paws.
She still had to cook, clean, work latebut it was for those who were truly her family. And shed make sure to bring up her children so they wouldnt turn out like their father.
Mum, Martha looked up from her drawing, you smile much more now.
Elizabeth smiled again. Martha was right.
