Do you want my husband? Hes all yours! the wife quips with a wry smile to the unfamiliar woman standing at her front door.
Hang on a sec, Emily. Someones at the door. Ill ring you back once I find out what this is about, says Sarah, reluctantly ending her phone call with her childhood friend. Emily had just been regaling her with hilarious stories from her mother-in-laws birthday do, and Sarah had been laughing so hard it was as if shed tuned in to her favourite comedy on TV.
Sarah heads to the door, peers through the spyhole, and is taken aback. Shed expected to see a neighbourstrangers simply couldnt wander into their building, not with all the security measures. But outside stands a young woman with an odd look about her, someone Sarah would remember meeting, yet she never has.
She decides against opening the doorits best to avoid unnecessary encounters with strangers, especially these days, what with all the scams about. Sarah lives by a strict rule: never chat to people you dont know. Tricksters thrive off the naive, but she is certainly not one of them.
Shes about to call Emily back when the doorbell buzzes again. The woman outside is persistent, certain theres someone in and unwilling to just go away.
Sarahs home alone; her husband, Oliver, has gone over to help a mate tidy the back garden. She returns to the door, studies the unfamiliar woman a little more closely, and feels uneasy, though not quite threatened.
Whats the worst that could happen if I open the door and tell her to leave me in peace? Sarah muses. Shes probably lost, or trying to flog me something I dont want.
Determined, she unlocks the door. The woman straightens up, anxiously smoothing her hair before speaking.
Hello! You must be Sarah? the woman asks, fiddling with her scarf. Well, obviously you arefunny I even asked.
Crikey, theyre getting clever these days, Sarah thinks, slightly unnerved. She even knows my name.
Who are you, and what do you want? asks Sarah firmly. Youve been standing here for five minutes, uninvited. Spit it out, or leave, please.
Is Oliver in? the stranger suddenly asks, which jolts Sarah.
Thats rich, she thinks, increasingly suspicious. She knows Olivers name too. Shes done her homework.
Youre here about Oliver? Sarah asks, even though she suspects the answer.
No, Im actually here to speak with you. But its more difficult for me if Oliver is home, the woman says, surprisingly candid.
What on earth do you mean, more difficult? Whats going on here? Sarah wonders, curiosity piqued.
Well, hes not in. Now what is it you want?
Perhaps its better if we talk inside? Hallways arent great for certain conversations the woman ventures, growing bolder.
Absolutely not! I dont let strangers in. Just get on with it and say what youre here for, Sarah retorts.
Do you really want to have a full-blown conversation about my affair with Oliver out here, where your neighbours could hear? the woman asks, a smirk on her face.
Sorry, what was that? Sarah replies, rather more sharply than she meant to.
Sarah, is everything alright? What on earth’s got you so riled up? calls Mrs Watson, her elderly neighbour, whos just stepped out of the lift.
Oh, good afternoon, Mrs Watson! Everythings fine. Hows the weather? Sarah tries to shift the topic.
Looks like were in for showers, Mrs Watson replies, though she lingers, evidently keen to eavesdrop.
Come in, Sarah says at last, grudgingly, motioning the woman inside.
Once inside, the woman glances around, clearly nosy and sizing up their home.
Youve got five minutes. Start talking, Sarah says, blocking her path to the lounge. This isnt a museum tour.
My names Jessica, the woman begins, taking off her scarf and coat. Oliver and I are in love.
Oh, how original! Couldnt you have come up with something less cliché? Sarah interrupts, smirking.
Whats so clichéd about it? People fall in love. It happens. Youre not the first wife whose husbands moved on, Jessica says, confidently trying to sidestep Sarah.
And youre entirely sure hes in love with you, not me? Sarah keeps up the sarcasm.
Absolutely! Otherwise, I wouldnt be here, Jessica replies, brazen.
Well, the jokes on you, love, Sarah deadpans. My husband doesnt know what love is. Never has.
Jessicas about to protest, when the door creaks open and Oliver walks in
and stops short, surprised to see a stranger standing awkwardly in their hallway.
Jessica? What are you doing here on a Saturday? Is this about work? he asks, bewildered.
No, shes here for you, Sarah says, relishing the moment.
For me? What do you mean? Is something up at the office? Olivers confusion only deepens.
No, darling. Shes here to whisk you away. Completely, Sarah throws out with dry irony.
Jessica, now very flustered, hastily slips her coat on and inches towards the door.
Off so soon? Whats about Oliver, then? Im honestly delighted to hand him over, Sarah jokes, egging her on.
But Jessica is already halfway down the corridor, too embarrassed to utter another word.
What in the world was all that about? Oliver asks, completely baffled.
You tell me! says Sarah, folding her arms. Why did this desperate woman arrive at our door, demanding divorce and insisting youre running off with her?
Youre kidding, right? Oliver looks genuinely stunned. Not a clue whats going on. Shes been acting weird at work, but Ive never given her reason to. Im fed up with all this nonsense. I promised you, didnt I?
You know me, OliverI dont put up with this sort of behaviour. Honestly, women these days will try anything to fix their complicated lives, Sarah shakes her head in disbelief.
Oliver toes off his shoes and heads to the kitchen, while Sarah pauses, thinking it all over. She quietly resolves not to let anyone disturb the peace in her home. Even she has to smile at how poorly Jessicas plan fell flat.
Its clear now that, despite what others might attempt, their relationship is far stronger than anyone could have guessed.
