My dear, its either me or your blasted cats, he declared, and I found myself helping him pack his suitcase.
Once again, cat hair! Look at this jacket, Emily! I only picked it up from the dry cleaners yesterday, and now it looks like Ive spent the night in an animal shelter. How much longer must I put up with this?
Richards voice echoed through the house, coming not only irritable, but sharp, with that strained pitch hed developed for any even the smallest inconvenience over the last six months. Emily, standing by the cooker flipping crumpets, sighed, switched off the hob and turned to face him. There he stood in the middle of the hallway, arms outstretched, holding his navy jacket on his fingertips as if it were contagious. True enough, a few white hairs clung to the lapel.
Richard, why are you shouting? she asked quietly, wiping her hands on her apron. Ive asked you not to drape your clothes on the armchair in the sitting room. You know Jasper loves sleeping there. If youd just put your things straight in the wardrobe, this wouldnt happen. Give it here, Ill clean it.
She fetched the lint roller from its familiar spot on the sideboard and deftly ran it over the jacket. Good as new. But Richard snatched it back, straightening almost theatrically, as if shed hurt him.
Its not about the wardrobe, Emily! Its that this flat is no longer fit for breathing in. There are yourbeasts everywhere. Cant sit on the settee, cant walk across the rug. I come back from work and expect a bit of rest, not to be dodging around bowls, trays and scratching posts. Youve turned the place into a menagerie!
Emily didnt bother replying, sensing the old lump of hurt and frustration swell up inside her. Our home, hed said. That was stretching things. The lovely high-ceilinged terrace flat in Hampstead had come from her grandmother long before Richard, who landed at her door with one suitcase and a laptop five years ago when they married. During their courtship, he seemed utterly charmed by stately Jasper and timid Molly, purring for attention. Even said their presence made the place feel homely.
But the honeymoon ended, the daily grind settled in, and the masks fell away. Richard, it seemed, required ordersterile as a hospital wardand all attention on himself.
Richard, theyre just two cats, Emily reminded him, returning to pour his coffee. And theyve been here longer than you. Theyre family.
Family! he snorted, following her in and slumping at the table. Theyre creatures. Useless freeloaders that eat and sleep. Did you look at how much their food costs? I saw the receipt you left on the side yesterday. Thirty quid! For some dry biscuits! And you moan at me about saving up for a holiday.
Its prescription food. Jaspers got a kidney problem, you know that. And I pay with my wages. I havent touched your money.
Theres no your money! Richard barked, slapping the table so the teaspoon clattered. We have a shared budget! If you spend your earnings pampering cats, it means youre not buying food for us! So I end up having to buy the meat and veg. Its basic maths!
Emily stared at him and wondered where the charming man had gone, the one who brought her daffodils and recited poetry. Before her sat a petty, perennially dissatisfied grumbler. She knew things were rocky at his joba reshuffle, possible redundancies loomingbut he seemed to vent all his despair at her and the hapless cats.
As if on cue, Jasper entered the kitchen, clicking gently across the floorboards, majestic and fluffy, his green eyes radiating calm. He brushed against Emilys legs and meowed softly for breakfast.
Get off! bellowed Richard, stamping his foot.
Startled, Jasper leapt back, his claws snagging in Richards trouser leg in his scramble, tearing the grey wool with an ominous rip.
A loaded silence filled the space. Richard looked down, horror flashing across his face as he beheld the new gash in his expensive trousers.
Right then, he choked, voice so cold Emily felt a chill inside. Thats the last straw.
He jumped up, toppling the chair. Red mottled his cheeks.
Ive put up with this for five years! Hair in my soup, stinking litter trays, nights ruined by them howling round the flat! But damaging my clothes? Emily, this ends now.
Emily stiffened, hands clutching her apron. Jasper slid beneath the sofa in the next room. Timid Molly, whod been dozing on the windowsill, pricked up her ears.
What do you mean, Richard? she whispered.
Its me or those creatures, he pronounced, pinning her with a look. You choose. I want them gone by the time Im home. Give them to your mother, dump them outside, take them to a shelterI dont care. But Im done. Im a man, Emily. I wont live like this. I deserve respect!
Youre serious? she asked, incredulous. Over a pair of trousers?
Its not the trousers! Its your attitude. You clearly love those flea-ridden beasts more than your own husband. Prove me wrong. Ill check tonight.
He snatched his briefcase, stormed out, and the front door slammed shut so hard the calendar fell off the wall.
Emily was left standing in the kitchen adrift. The world buzzed in her ears. She picked up the calendar, hung it back, then sat at the table and weptnot from grief, but from a peculiar, helpless rage. How could he? How can you ask someone to abandon those who rely on you? Jasper was twelve, needing special care. Molly was so nervous, shed last a day outside.
Jasper peeped out, saw the noisy person had gone, then padded softly to her side, placing his front paw on her knee and looking up at her face, rumbling comfort with an engine-like purr. Emily buried her face in his warm fur.
Id never give you up, she whispered. Dont be daft.
The day drifted by in a mist, like a dream within a dream. Emily phoned work, claimed a days leave for ill health. She shuffled around, rearranging things, watering plants; thinking, always thinking.
She remembered Richard kicking Molly months ago when she got in his path at night. Claimed he hadnt seen herbut Emily knew he had. Remembered how hed banned the cats from the bedroom, leaving them scratching at the door, confused at the exile. Remembered his ongoing complaints about money, despite her matching his salary and the flat and bills being hers.
By lunch, the fog cleared and a cold, crystalline certainty took its place. She realised his ultimatum wasnt just a spasm of rage. It was a testa slip of litmus. Anyone who could force a loved one to pick between them and a defenseless creature deserved neither. Today the cats were a problem. Tomorrow, her ageing mother would be an inconvenience. One day, it could be Emily herselfif she aged or fell ill.
It was four oclock. Richard would be home at seven. Plenty of time.
She fetched the large wheeled suitcase from atop the wardrobethe same from their trip to Italy two summers beforebrushed off the dust, unzipped it. It gaped open like the mouth of a hungry whale, ready to swallow up someone elses life.
She packed methodically. His suits; trousers folded just so, jackets hung in the special compartment. Shirts. Jumpers. Jeans.
For a blip, fear spiked. Was she doing the right thing? Was this just a bump in the road? Should she have tried harder to reconcile? But she saw once more the cold, sneering look in his eyes that morning. Useless freeloaders. No, there was no compromise here. You cant talk reason with selfishness.
Socks and pants tucked into side pockets. Suddenly, the bell rang. Emily froze. Was he back already? But he had his own keys. She peeked through the spyholeit was Mrs Hawkins, the kindly neighbour always popping round for a natter or a sprinkle of sugar.
Emily opened up.
Oh, hello dear, Mrs Hawkins rattled away. I saw your fella storm out this morning, he nearly shook the glass out of my windows. Everything alright, love? Such shouting
Its all fine, Mrs Hawkins, Emily replied calmly. Were just sorting out a domestic thing.
Oh well, if you say so. But you do look pale! Come pop round for a cuppa later. Ive made a lovely Victoria sponge.
Thank you, I will if I can.
Emily closed the door and resumed. His shelf in the bathroom toothbrush, razor, posh aftershave, deodorantinto a washbag. Shoeswinter boots, trainers, slippers.
By six oclock, two bulging suitcases and a sports holdall stood in the corridor. The flat felt lighter, airier, yet strangely foreign, as though a stubborn shadow had finally slipped away. Or perhaps it was like extracting a rotten tooth.
Emily made herself mint tea, filled the cats bowls to the brim, and sat in the old armchair to await his return. Jasper curled up at her feet. Molly nestled on the armrest.
At quarter past seven, the key screeched in the lock. Emily listened as he entered, breathless from the climblikely the lift was on the blink again.
Well? he shouted from the hall, triumphant. Have you come to your senses, my love? Where are those furballs? Surely in the bin by now?
He strode into the living room, not bothering to take off his shoes, and stopped dead.
Emily sat with her tea. The cats were present and entirely nonchalantJasper opening one eye, then closing it, exuding a languid disdain for the noisy man.
I dont understand, Richard said, cheeks colouring. Didnt you hear me? Its me or the cats. Are you seriously playing with fire?
I heard you well enough. And Ive made my choice.
And where is it? Why are those creatures still here?
Because this is their home. Yours is in the hallway.
Richard blinked, spun, and Emily heard him stumble against the bag.
Whats this? he shrilled, voice quivering.
He returned, no longer confident but confused and faintly scared.
Youyou packed my things? Youre throwing me out? For the sake of two mangy cats?!
Not for the cats, Richard. For making me choose. Someone who loves you doesnt deal in ultimatums. They look for solutions. You were just hoping to break me, force me to yield and prove your powerover a woman and two harmless animals. Thats not strength. Thats weakness.
Are you mad? he bellowed, flailing. Youre forty! Whod want youwith a couple of old cats in tow? I looked after you, I tolerated you! Youll come crawling back to me in a week, see if you dont. Youre nothing on your own.
The flats mine, I have a decent job, good salary, Emily counted off her fingers. No more cooking, washing, or cleaning for a grown child. No more nerves shot to hell. Sorry, Richard, Ill manage. In fact, I may finally have a rest.
Oh really! He lunged at her, but Jasper, all at once, leapt to his feet, arched his back and let out a deep, guttural growl that prickled the hair on Emilys neck. The reaction was so sudden, Richard stumbled backwards.
To hell with you! he spat. Sit here and rot with your miserable moggies. Ill find a real woman who appreciates me! You can go mouldy here alone!
He stormed out. Emily heard him wrestling his suitcases in the hall.
Wheres my laptop? he roared.
In the side pocket of your bag.
And my documents?
Folder, top of the suitcase. Havent forgotten a thing. Even packed your favourite mug.
Her polite calm only maddened him further. Had she screamed, wept, or thrown crockery, he might have felt in control. But she remained as still and chill as stone.
He muttered for another minute in the hallway, clearly hoping shed come running, beg him to stay. But Emily didnt budge.
The front door slammed, echoing down the stairwell and gone. The wheels of his suitcase rattled down the tiled hall, fading.
Emily stayed seated in the hush. She searched herself for pain, for fear, for regret. Instead, a spreading warmth: relief so thick it felt as though shed shrugged off an old sack of bricks.
Jasper nudged her hand. Emily scratched behind his ear.
So, my valiant protectordid we chase away the bad spirits?
Molly, emboldened, hopped lightly onto Emilys knee, curling small and warm.
An hour passed; her phone rangBeloved flashing on screen. Emily grimaced, pressed block, then quickly changed his contact to Richard Ex. Then thought againand deleted the number.
She wandered into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wineleftover from Christmasmade a cheese and chutney sandwich. All was calm. She knew tomorrow might be awkward: Richard would almost certainly call, demand meetings, try to guilt-trip her, perhaps even quibble over their belongings (his car was bought on a loan in his name; the household goods, all hers from before marriage). But that was for tomorrow.
Tonight, she was home. Truly home. Where the jacket could rest on the armchair, where it was fine if crumbs fell on the carpet, and where a cat wouldnt be booted just for wanting affection.
The doorbell rang. Emily tensed. But the chime was quick, not Richards impatient blare.
She opened it. Mrs Hawkins, cheeks pink, clutching a plate covered with a clean tea towel.
Emily love, I brought over some cabbage pie, still warm. Heard your man clattering round with his cases. Off on a work trip, is he?
Emily looked at her kindly neighbour, then at the comforting pie, then over at Jasper and Molly peeking from behind the door.
No, Mrs Hawkins, she smiled, accepting the plate. Not a work trip. Hes moved out. For good. Come in for tea, wont you? Ive plenty of free time, and its ever so peaceful now.
The evening drifted by with hot tea, sweet cake, friendly chatter, and contented purrs. For the first time in five years, Emily felt profoundly, definitively happy. She realised a simple truth: loneliness isnt when youre alone in your house with cats. Loneliness is when you share your life with someone who doesnt care, and each day betray yourself hoping for scraps of affection.
And, by the by, the next morning she booked Jasper and Molly in for a groom at the local pet salon. They deserved to look their best, after alltheyd helped her clear the worst rubbish from her life.
