Put your hat on, its freezing out there. Youll catch your death.
Caroline held out the woolly hatblue, with a pompomthe one Emily had picked out herself at Marks and Spencer only a month ago.
Youre not my mum, all right?
The shout shattered the silence in the hallway. Emily threw the hat to the floor with such force, youd have thought it was covered in poison.
Emily, I just
And youll never be my mum! Got it? Never!
The front door slammed behind the girl. The window panes rattled, and a sharp draught snaked through the terraced house from the communal landing.
Caroline just stood there in the corridor. The hat lay crumpled at her feetpathetic, unwanted. Angry, hot tears surged in her throat. She bit her lip and stared hard at the ceiling. Dont cry. Not now
Six months ago, she had pictured a very different life: warm Sunday roasts, long chats over tea, maybe even weekends in the Lake District together. Tom had always spoken of his daughter so fondlyclever, talented, just a bit quiet after losing her mother. She just needs time, hed said. Shell come round. But time seemed to harden Emily, not thaw her.
From the very first day Caroline entered this house as Toms wife, Emily had gone on the defensive. Every attempt to get close ran up against a wall of ice. Offer to help with homework? I can do it myself. Suggest a walk in the park? Im busy. Compliment her new haircut? Just an icy look and silence.
I have a mum, Emily announced on the second day Caroline moved in.
They were at the breakfast table, Tom running late for work, gulping his tea.
Had one, always will. Youre a nobody here.
Tom had spluttered, mumbling something about getting along. Caroline smiledher mouth tight and awkwardand said nothing.
Things just got worse from there.
Emily never raised her voice when Tom was around. Shed found subtler weapons. She walked past Caroline as if she didnt exist. Shed answer in a single syllable, or through gritted teeth. If Caroline entered a room, Emily would get up and leave.
Dad used to be different, Emily muttered once at dinner. He was normal before you came. We actually spoke. Now…
She trailed off and pushed her food around. Tom turned pale, and Caroline put down her forkher appetite evaporated.
Tom, poor man, darted between them like some trapped animal. Late at night, hed come to bedtheir bedroom, though Caroline never felt she had a right to call it hersand beg her to be patient.
Shes just a child. Shes grieving. Give her some time.
Then hed go to Emilys room and plead with her too.
Caroline is lovely. Shes trying so hard. Give her a chance.
Caroline overheard those talks through the thin wall. Toms weary, faltering voice. Emilys sharp and bitter replies.
He was pulled apart, anyone could see it. The frown deepening between his brows these last months; the way he flinched whenever Emily and Caroline found themselves in the same room; the exhaustion permanently shadowing his eyes.
But he couldntor wouldntchoose.
Caroline picked the hat up from the floor. She brushed it off by habit and hung it on the hook before walking into the living roomwhere she always froze for a moment.
The photographs. Dozens of them in neat frames: on shelves, the mantel, the windowsill. A fair-haired woman with a gentle smile. The same woman holding baby Emily. With Tomyoung, beaming, unrecognisable now. Wedding photos. Holiday snaps. Christmas mornings.
Sarah. The first wife. The one who had died.
Her clothes were still in the wardrobes. Dresses, jumpers, scarvesall perfectly folded, dotted with lavender sachets. Her make-up lined up on its own shelf in the bathroom. Her pink fluffy slippers waited near the door.
As if shed just popped out for a loaf and would be back any minute.
Mum made this better, Emily would throw at dinner.
Mum never used to do that.
Mum wouldnt have liked that.
Each comparison a punch to the gut. Caroline smiled, nodded, swallowed the pain with her food. At night, she lay awake, wondering: how do you compete with a memory? With the perfect, untouchable version of a woman who, with every year, only grew more flawless?
Tom still loved Sarah. Caroline had known for some time. She saw the longing in his eyes when he looked at the photos, the change in his face when Emily spoke about her mum.
What did Caroline mean to him? Just a way to move on? A cure for loneliness? Or just a handy woman who happened to be there at the right moment?
In the evenings, while Tom fell asleepalways so easily, five minutes, turned to the wall and goneCaroline would lie awake, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. The ceiling of a house that never truly felt like hers. She knew, cold and clear, that this marriage was coming apart. That Tom had married her with one foot in the past. That Emily would never accept her.
And perhaps perhaps she had made the gravest mistake of her life.
The realisation crystallised one sleepless night, somewhere between three and four a.m., as she lay listening to Toms steady breathing. He slumbered peacefully, and she remained, alone with the shaft of lamplight, the dancing shadows from the street outside, and the photograph of Sarah on the dresser, right where Tom had left it.
Enough.
The decision came with chilling clarity: she could not win this fight. You cant replace a memory. You cant step into the shoes of a woman who will forever be sanctified in this house.
Caroline sat up in bed. Tom didnt stir.
Three days later, she filed for divorce. Alone, without a solicitor, without saying a word. She went to the register office with her passport and marriage certificate, filled out the forms in her tidy hand, and signed. The woman behind the desk looked up with a routine sympathyshe must see this every day.
Caroline…
Tom found the papers that evening, standing frozen in the middle of the kitchen, ghostly pale, the letter in his hand.
Whats this supposed to mean?
Its all there in black and white. Caroline resumed doing the dishes. Ive filed for divorce.
Why? How? We havent even talked about it…
What is there to talk about, Tom?
She turned off the tap, dried her hands, and faced her husband.
Im tired of living in a museum. Tired of being the second choice. Tired of seeing the way you look at her photos. Tired of hearing your daughter tell me Im nothing.
Emilys just a child, she doesnt understand
She understands perfectly well. And so do you. You just wont admit it.
Tom took a step closer. He placed his hands gently on Carolines shoulders, as if she would break.
Caroline, lets talk. Ill fix this. Ill talk to Emily, Ill put the pictures away, well start again
You love her.
It wasnt a questionit was fact. Looking into his eyes, she saw the answer before he could open his mouth.
You still love Sarah. What am I to you? A stand-in? A housekeeper? A woman to cook meals and wash socks?
Thats not true
Then say you dont love her. Say youve forgotten. Go on.
Silence.
Tom let go, stepping back, his face already ten years older in that single moment.
Caroline nodded. She hadnt really expected anything else.
Emily was in her bedroom, the door slightly ajarby accident or design, who could tell. As Caroline walked past, Emily looked up from her phone and smiled: a tiny, triumphant quirk of the lips.
Shed won.
The next hours passed in autopilot. Wardrobe. Hangers. Suitcase. The dress Tom had given her on their anniversarythree months ago, a lifetime away. The perfume hed spent half an hour choosing in John Lewis, sniffing sample cards. The book theyd started reading together and never finished.
Caroline packed her things with quiet care, smoothing each crease. Dont think. Dont remember. Just pack.
The evening dragged endlessly. Caroline sat on the bed beside the packed cases. Two suitcaseseverything left of her attempt at a family.
She left at eight oclock.
Shed booked a cab in advance, wheeled her cases down herselfthe lift worked smoothly, not a soul on the stairs. The front door key was left on the hall table.
The driver helped her load the bags, and off they went. Caroline never looked back.
The London streets were half-empty and unfamiliar. Street lamps glowed, a few hurrying people rushed to the Tube. Somewhere behind her was a flat full of ghosts and photos. Tom, with his undying devotion. Emily, with her ferocious, jealous loyalty.
Caroline gazed out of the taxi window and breathed. For the first time in half a yeartruly breathed.
Loneliness was frightening. But living in the shadow of a ghost was worse.
She was starting again. A blank page. No husband, no family, no illusions.
But at leastno longer the perpetual runner-up to a perfect woman who no longer existed.
