The kitchen felt stifling as I scrubbed the plates, lost in my thoughts, when Edward strode in and flicked off the light.
“Its still light outside. No need to waste electricity,” he muttered, eyes clouded with irritation.
“But I wanted to put a wash on,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Do it tonight, when its cheaper,” he shot back. “And dont turn the tap on so full, Anna. You use far too much water. Far too much. Cant you see youre pouring our money away with it?”
He leaned over and turned the tap almost shut. I glanced at him, hopelessness curling inside me, before drying my hands and sitting at the table.
“Edward, have you ever tried looking at yourself from the outside?” I asked quietly.
“I do it every day,” he snapped.
“And? What do you think of yourself?”
“You mean as a person?”
“As a husband. As a father.”
“Husband, as husbands go,” he grumbled. “Father, same. Just ordinary, nothing special. Not the worst, not the best. Why are you badgering me?”
“Are you saying all husbands and fathers are like you?”
“Whats this about, Anna? Looking for a row?”
I knew I had to push on, that I couldnt go backhe needed to understand that living with him was unbearable.
“Edward, do you know why youve never left me?” I prompted.
“And why should I leave you?” He twisted a smirk.
“For starters, because you dont love me,” I blurted out. “You dont love our children either.”
He drew breath as if to jump in, but I pushed through.
“Dont bother denying it. You love no one, and Im not about to waste time arguing. Thats not even the point. The point is why youve never left me and the kids.”
“Go on then, why?” he asked.
“Because you’re tight-fisted,” I said. “Because parting from us would cost you more than you could bear. Weve been together for what, fifteen years? And whats come of it? Apart from becoming husband and wife, and having children. What have we really achieved?”
“Weve got our lives ahead,” he shrugged.
“Not all of it, Edward,” I said. “We have what remains. But in all our years together, tell me, have we ever even gone to the seaside for a holiday? Not once. And Im not even talking about holidays abroadjust inside England! We spend all our holidays here, in town. Never even a mushroom picking trip outside the city. Because, why? Because its too costly.”
“Were saving, Anna,” he said flatly. “For our future.”
“Our future?” I stared at him. “Or is it just you saving for yours?”
“For you, for the kids,” he claimed. “Its all for you. Youd be surprised how much is in the savings account thanks to me.”
“Our account?” I scoffed. “Thats funny. Theres something in your account, maybe. Let’s do a test. Give me some money, please, so I can buy new clothes for myself and the children. Ive worn the same things since our wedding, and what your brothers wife hands down, and so do the kidsforever wearing castoffs from their cousins. And I want to moveits exhausting living in your mothers flat.”
“Mum gave us two rooms,” Edward protested. “Youve no right to complain about her. And clothes for the kidswhy buy new ones? My brothers lot have outgrown their stuff, and its perfectly good for our two.”
“And for me?” I pressed. “Whose old clothes am I meant to wear? Your brothers wifes?”
“Who are you trying to dress up for?” he snorted. “Its ridiculous. Two kids, youre thirty-five! You should worry about something other than clothes.”
“And what should I worry about, Edward?”
“The meaning of life,” he replied. “That theres more to it than clothes and other silly womens things. Theres higher things, worth far more.”
I paused, trying to understand.
“So thats why you keep all the money in your own name and never let us have anyso we can grow as people. Is that right?”
“You cant be trusted, thats why!” Edward snapped, voice rising. “Youd waste it all at once! Then what do we live on if something goes wrong? Have you ever thought about that?”
“What do we live on, if something happens Thats a good one, Edward,” I said bitterly. “But tell mewhen, exactly, do you plan for us to start living? Or hasnt it occurred to you that the something wrong youre worried about has already happened? Were living like its here already!”
He glared at me, silent.
“You save even on soap, on toilet rolls and tissues,” I continued. “Even your hand cream, you bring it home from work because they hand it out.”
“Every penny counts,” he said briskly. “It all starts with the little things. To spend money on expensive soap or tissue is laughable.”
“Just tell me: how many more years do we have to wait? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? How long before we get to live like normal peoplewith decent toilet roll? Im thirty-five, and its not time yet, is it?”
He said nothing.
“Is it forty, you think? Shall we start living life at forty?”
Still no answer.
“Fifty, then? Is that a good age? Seems not, eh? And what if we dont make it to sixty? After all, the way you scrimp on food, we eat almost nothing but whatever cheap, tasteless stuff can be bought by the bagful. Have you ever thought how bad it is for usphysically and emotionally? Were always down, Edward. With moods like this, people dont live long.”
“If we moved out and ate well, wed never save,” Edward muttered.
“We wouldnt,” I admitted. “Which is exactly why Im leaving. Im done with saving money. You love it. I hate it.”
“And how are you going to manage on your own?” he asked, stunned.
“Ill cope,” I replied. “It cant be worse than this. Ill rent a flat for myself and the children. I earn as much as you do. Renting is affordable, and there will be enough left for clothes and food. Most importantly, I wont have to listen to any more lectures about gas, water, or electricity. Ill use the washing machine in the daytime if I please, and I wont fret if I forget a light now and then. Ill buy the nicest toilet roll and keep tissues on every table. And at the supermarket, Ill buy what I wantwithout waiting for a discount.”
“But you wont save anything!” he cried, appalled.
“Why not? I will. Your maintenance money for the girlsIll put it aside. Actually, thats not true. I shant save a thing. Ill spend every penny, including your child support. Ill live from paycheque to paycheque. And at weekends, Ill bring the girls over to yours and your mums. You know what an economy thatll be for me? Ill go to the theatre, out to restaurants, art exhibitions. In the summer, Ill go to the seaside. I havent decided where yet, but I will, once Im free of you.”
Edward went ashen. He started calculating, Im sure, how much hed have left after maintenance, and the cost of weekend visits. But, most of all, it was the thought of my seaside holidays that cut him. To Edward, that was money blown awayhis money.
“And one last thing,” I added. “Well split the money in your account.”
“What do you mean?” he balked.
“Exactly that. Ill take half. Fifteen years: thats a decent sum. And I will spend it, Edward, I promise you. Im not going to save for lifeIm going to live now.”
Edwards lips moved, but no words came. Fear paralysed himthe fear wasnt for me or for the children, but only for himself.
“And do you want to know my real dream, Edward?” I said, my heart light for the first time in years. “When the time comes for me to go for good, I want my bank balance to be exactly zero. Then Ill know Ive spent everything I had on living.”
Two months later, the divorce was final.
