He left me sitting alone at a beautifully set table and ran off to toast his friends in the garage.
Are you really just going to leave? Just stand up and walk out? Alices voice trembles, but she steels herself so theres no hint of wounded pridejust resolve.
James stands frozen in the hallway, halfway through pulling on his battered waxed jacket. Hes not wearing slippers, but his old trainersthe shoes he always chooses for tinkering with the car. From the kitchen drifts the mouthwatering aroma of roast duck stuffed with Bramley applesa dish thats kept Alice busy for four hours between marinating and basting. In the dining room, the table is covered with her best lace tablecloth and crystal glasses glint in the candlelight; the salads, which Alice diced to perfection since morning, are lined up in gleaming bowls.
Alice, dont start, please. James grimaces as though hes got a toothache. The lads called. Mikes carburettors gone, hes broken downI have to help him out. Itll be quick, an hour, tops. Ill be back and well celebrate together. Your duck wont even have time to cool off.
Mikes carburettor conveniently goes every Friday at seven, Alice responds coolly, leaning against the doorframe. James, its our tenth wedding anniversary today. I left work early. I bought your favourite wine, the one thats half my weeks pay. I made the effort to wear this dress. And now youre really off to the garage?
James finally gets his arms through the sleeves and begins patting his pockets for the car keys, his movements sharp and agitated.
Youre blowing this up. Its just a car. The lads need meits what mates do, you know? If I needed help, Mike would come running. Dont be selfish. Its not as if Im off to the pubwere fixing something. Dont sulk, Ill be back soon.
He pecks her cheek, quick and dry, halfway to the door. The click of the lock in the silence of the flat is almost like a gunshot.
Alice stands in the hall for a few seconds more. Reflected in the mirror is an elegant woman with a carefully pinned-up hairdo, wearing a deep navy dress that flatters her shape and hides any flaws. The only thing off is her tired, dim eyes.
She walks slowly to the kitchen. The oven timer has long since switched off, but fat still sizzles inside. Alice lifts the heavy roasting pan; the duck is golden, the scent of apples and spices fills the rooma culinary masterpiece, and now, apparently, for no one.
She places the duck carefully on the dining room platter, then sits down. Two plates, two glasses, candles she never even got a chance to light. The silence in the flat presses in all around her. Behind the wall, a neighbours telly mutters the news, but in her own home, theres just emptiness.
Of course, he wont be back in an hour. Nor in an hour and a half. The garage is like some sort of Bermuda Triangle. Time stops there. First, theyll have a look at the carburettor, then decide its something else, then someone will produce a couple tins of beer, just for moistening the throat, and then a neighbour from the unit next door will pop overhis cats gone missing or his grandsons just been bornand thats how it always goes.
Alice pours herself some wine. Deep, rich, red. She takes a sip, then slices off a duck legthe best bit. She chews mechanically, tasting nothing. Inside, it isnt a meltdown brewing, but a cold, heavy clarity. Its as if some veil thats clouded her view for years has just fallen away.
This isnt a one-off, is it?
Last year, on her birthday, he was three hours late because he was helping his mum move her sofa. Alice had suggested getting a delivery firm, but James said, No need to spend money, Ive got a pair of hands. In the end, he arrived sweaty, tired, and grumpy, grumbling through the whole evening about his bad back.
Or the summer before? They were meant to be off to a cottage, booking paid months before. But a day before the trip James lent half their holiday savings to Mikebecause Mikes due date for his loan is up. Hell pay it back, Alicea promise is a promise. Mike, of course, sent it back bit by bit over six months, meanwhile, their holiday consisted of pot noodles and staying in.
Alice looks at the empty plate across from her. Ten years. The tin anniversary. They say tin is flexible, but bend it too many times and it snaps.
She finishes the duck, ignoring the sides, then gets up, blows out the unlit candles, and starts clearing the table. Salads into the fridge, wine corked. She loads the dishwasher, but doesnt start it.
At one in the morning, Jamess phone is out of signal. At two, a notification appears: Contact is now online. Alice doesnt bother to call him. She makes up the bed, lies down, and switches off the light. Sleep doesnt come. She just lies there, staring at the darkness, listening to the distant rattle of the buildings lift.
At half past three, the key grinds in the lock. James tries to make as little noise as possible, but every sound in the night seems thunderous. He bumps the table, swears under his breath, shuffles out of his jeans. He reeks of cheap tobacco, engine oil, and stale beerthe unmistakable garage stench.
He slips under the quilt, reaching to cuddle her.
Are you asleep? he whispers, his breath sour on her hair. Ali, give over It all kicked off. It wasnt the carb, the whole engines had it. We had to strip half the thing. Hands up to my elbows in oilcouldnt just leave the bloke. Then my phone died; didnt have the charger.
Alice edges to the farthest side of the bed.
Dont touch me, she says quietly.
Oh come on, I came home, didnt I? Safe and sound. So I was late. Well celebrate tomorrowwell, today now. Ill get a cake
Within seconds, hes snoring. Alice gets up, takes her pillow and a blanket, and sleeps on the sofa in the lounge. The faint smell of roast duck still hangs in the airthe scent of a celebration never had.
The next morning brings not apologies, but complaints. James stumbles into the kitchen just past midday, rumpled, face puffy. Alice is drinking coffee, checking her work emails.
No breakfast? he asks, staring blankly into the fridge. Oh, there are some salads left. Great. Wheres the duck?
In the fridge, in a tub, Alice replies, not looking up from her screen.
Warm it up for me? My heads killing, really need a proper meal.
Alice slowly shuts the laptop.
No.
No, what?
No, I wont warm it. Youve got handsthe golden ones that rebuilt half of Mikes car last night. Use those.
James turns, surprised. Normally after arguments, Alice sulks for a couple of hours but still feeds him, clears upcarries on with her wifely duties. Its a wellworn script: he messes upshes upsethe brings some chocolate or says a kind wordshe forgives.
Ali, are you really still bothered about yesterday? Honestly, it was out of my hands. You see who your friends really are in a crisis. Youre smartyou know you cant keep a bloke on a leash.
Im not keeping you, she says calmly. Youre absolutely free. And Im free, too. Free from having to look after you after your night out.
It wasnt a piss-up, it was car repairs! he protests, grabbing the salad and eating straight from the tub. Honestly, Alice, youre getting, like, properly moody. Maybe you need vitamins. Or is it that time of the month?
Alice looks at him for a long moment, as if seeing him for the first time. The man shovelling potato salad and spraying crumbsthis is her husband. The man to whom she had trusted her life. The flat isnt even hisit was left to her by her gran. James just has his name on the bills. The redecorating, she covered most of it, because he was always short: No jobs this week, Tools are bust, or Mum needs help.
James, she says quietly. Wheres the money we saved up for new windows?
He coughs, nearly choking on the salad.
What do you mean? Its in the money box, isnt it?
Its not. I checked this morning. Fifty thousand poundsgone.
James looks away, ears reddening.
Oh, thatyeah, right I took it. Yesterday, before seeing Mike. Needed pricey parts, you see, and sudden, an emergency. Lent it to him, hell give it back when he gets paid.
You took fifty grand from our shared savings, didnt even tell me, just gave it to Mike so he could fix his clapped-out car? When weve been saving half a year to stay warm this winter?
Its just cash, Ali! He bangs his spoon onto the table. Hell pay it back, he promised. Anyway, Im the man of the house; I make the financial calls. What, do I need permission from the missus for every nut or bolt?
You do when its money from the joint pot, Alices voice stays calm, especially when I put in seventy percent of it.
Oh, so youre throwing it in my face now? Money? Thats low, Alicedidnt think you were that sort. Never used to be like this.
He storms off to the sitting room, making sure the tellys loud enough to let her know how little he cares.
Alice sits at the kitchen table and feels the last string snap inside her. The one holding together the fragile hut they call family. She realises then: theyll never replace the windows. Mike wont pay them backhes always in debt or paying for his ex. And James will play the noble friend at her expense while she scrimps on lunches and lipstick.
The week that follows is pure cold war. Every exchange is clippedstrictly practical. James acts the martyr, handsomely wronged, while Alice is the shrill wife, supposedly nagging over nothing. He stays late at work, comes home, forages leftovers, and goes to bed turning his back.
Thursday, hes home early. In surprisingly good spirits, hes even clutching a bouquet of bright market chrysanthemumsthe cheap ones pensioners sell outside the Tube.
Ali, stop the sulking. He thrusts the flowers at her. Peace?
Alice puts them in a vase. Sure. Peace. Theres no warmth in her voice. Shes already decided on her next move.
Brilliant! James beams. Havent seen you smile in ages. Listen, my birthdays Saturday, remember?
Yes, of course.
I just dont fancy a restauranttoo expensive, too stuffy. Lets host here? Ill get Mike and his wife, Phil, maybe six or seven in all. Youre so good at thisif youd do the food? You know, your signature meat-in-white sauce, salads, the lot? Theyve all been on about your cooking.
Alice looks at him. He seems truly certain that after missing their anniversary, stealing the window money (for thats what it was), and ignoring her for a week, shell just spring to the stove, happily feeding his mates.
Alright, Alice smiles, a strange, tight smile that James doesnt notice. Invite everyone. Two oclock Saturday.
My star! I knew youd come through. Should I get anything in?
No need, Ill handle it. Its meant to be a surpriseyou love surprises, right?
Love em! James lights up. Ill call the lads!
Friday passes peacefully. Alice goes shopping, returning with full bags. James tries to sneak a look, but she playfully swats him away: No peeking. Its a secret. She spends all evening bustling in the kitchen, clattering pansbut keeps the door closed. The smells are peculiar. Not the usual baking aroma, more bland and boiled. James chalks it up to tricky starters.
Saturday. Morning. James wakes, anticipation high. Alice is already up, neat and businesslike in a tailored suit, not a fancy dress.
Why so formal? he asks. Thought youd wear that red dress.
This is just easier, she says. Guests soon?
Yeah, about an hour. Mike and the gang are already on their way. Ill jump in the shower.
While he freshens up, Alice lays the table. When James emerges, slick with aftershave, the buzzer soundshis mates tumble in, arms laden with clinking bags.
Happy birthday, mate! Mike whoops, slapping James on the back. Alright, lets see what your missus has been whipping up! Not much smellgood extractor fan or what?
They troop into the lounge and then stop, mid-laugh.
The table, again, is dressed in best lace. Plates, cutlery, napkins all pristinebut as for the food…
Centre-stage, on a grand platter, sits a pile of the cheapest supermarket tortellini, stuck together in a cold, sticky lump. All around, bowls of instant noodlesall ready made, now congealed and flavourless. Where there might be a pretty platter of cold meats, there are thick slices of the cut-price bargain banger sausage, plastic skin half clinging. The salad bowls are filled with flavoured crisp breadsticks and unceremoniously opened tins of tinned sardines, still in the can.
Whats this? Jamess voice falters. He gestures helplessly at the table. Is this a joke, Alice? Wheres the proper food? The salads?
Silence falls. Mike stares between the pasta and Alice. Mikes wife purses her lips.
Alice moves to the centre of the room, standing straight, dignified, even triumphant.
This, James, is a garage party dinner. You love spending time out there so much that you missed our anniversary for it. So I decided to recreate the atmosphere that clearly matters most to you. Tuck in, gentlemen. This is exactly what your little club deserves.
Are you mad? James hisses, purple with rage. Youre embarrassing me in front of everyone! Get this off the table now and bring out the real food! I saw you cooking yesterday!
I made my food for the weekthats in containers in the fridge. Thisshe waves her arm over the sad spreadis for you lot. Paid for by whats left, after you emptied our savings.
Mike coughs awkwardly. James, mate, maybe we should just go? Bit uncomfortable, this…
Nobodys leaving! James yells. Alice will sort this. Wont you? Youll bring in dinner, apologise to everyone, and well pretend this never happened. Otherwise
Otherwise what? Alice asks, her voice almost amused.
Otherwise, I wont be held responsible. Dont forget yourself, Alice. Its my house, my guests.
Your house? Alice laughs, sharp and cold, not mirthful at all. Lets clear up the legalities. This flat has belonged to me since before we marriedmy gran gifted it to me. According to English law, property received as a gift prior to marriage is mine. Youre just a tenant here. A name on a bill means nothing.
James staggers, unprepared for her icily formal tone. Shes usually all cakes and holidays, never legal talk.
What are you on about? I helped do up the place! I laid that bathroom floor!
You didnt. We paid a builder with my bonus. I have receipts, and the contract. Your contribution was two bags of sand and a week down the pub to celebrate. Even if you could somehow prove a contribution, youd only get a token payout, not a share. Besides, since you regularly raided our joint money for Mikes emergencies, I doubt a court would think you hard-done-by.
Get stuffed! he yells, losing his grip completely. Ill call the police, tell them youre kicking off!
Go ahead, she says. While youre at it, heres your stuff.
She wheels in two large suitcases from the bedroom.
Ive packed your things: clothes, shoes, your tools from the balcony, even your favourite mugfrom my set.
The guests shuffle, awkward, toward the door. Mikes wife is already slipping on her shoes, tugging Mike after her.
James, well just wait outside, yeah? Mike mumbles, and the party all hurry out.
James stands, bewildered, between the cold pasta and his luggage.
Are you serious? he asks, suddenly subdued. The bravado gone, hes left small and lost. Alienough now. If you want, Ill get on my knees. I was stupid, all right? Ill pay back the money, I promise. Dont throw me out. Where am I meant to go? Back to Mums? That poky place?
Thats your problem, James. Youre a grown man. Youve got your mates, a garage, a car with a new enginelive your life. Just not here.
Youll regret this, Alice! Wholl want you at thirty-eight? Youll be a lonely divorcee eating with your cats! Ill find someone new in a week!
Im willing to risk it. She opens the front door. Go on.
James grabs his luggage, his face contorted with rage.
Cow! Money-grabbing witch! Ill take you for half the furniture! The tellys mine!
The tellys paid for on my credit card; Ive got the bank statements. Now out. And put your keys on the table.
He hesitates, but, glancing at her determined expression, throws the keys to the floor.
Keep your bloody flat!
He drags his suitcases onto the landing. The door slams shut.
Alice triple locks it, adds the chain, and leans back against the cold metal. Her heart hammers, hands shake. But there are no tears. Instead, an extraordinary lightness, as if shes finally dropped a ten-year sack of bricks shed confused for happiness.
She sweeps the table cleanpasta, noodles, greasy sausagestraight into a large bin bag. No fuss. She opens the window, letting out the stale sardine and aftershave reek.
Then, from the fridge, she fetches the winestill left from the doomed anniversary. She pours a glass and settles in her armchair.
Her phone pings. A message from her mum: How was the party, love? Was James happy?
Alice types back: It was perfect, Mum. His best birthday ever. And the first day of my new life.
Tomorrow shell sort the locksmith and on Monday, shell file for divorce. Yes, therell be shouting, threats, an attempt to claim the forks and spoons. It doesnt matter. The important thing is that tonight, for the first time in years, shes not dining alone. Shes dining with herselfa smart, strong, free woman shes finally learning to respect.
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