Emily had grown up in a bustling London orphanage, her childhood marked by longing and uncertainty. She entered into marriage barely eighteen, having no inkling of what family life or being a wife truly meantshe lacked married friends, and the concept of home was as abstract as a distant dream. When she first stepped into her husbands modest flat in Camden, Emily tried earnestly to absorb the endless hints and unwritten rules of what made a proper wife. Her main guidance came, unmistakably, from her husbands mother, Mrs. Davies.
Emily was no stranger to tales of difficult mothers-in-law, whispered warnings from the staff at the orphanage, but she hoped, naively, that since shed never known her own mother, Mrs. Davies would care for her like a daughter and want only the best for her. There was a grain of truth in that hope; Mrs. Davies didnt wish Emily harmbut somehow, things just didnt turn out well. Eager to help, Mrs. Davies set out to teach Emily the ropes of married life, declaring, amongst other gems, If a husband strays, its the wifes fault.
Why? Emily had always believed the one at fault was the person making the choice to cheat. But Mrs. Davies assured her otherwise: if a man wanders, its because his wife has neglected herself, lost her allure as a woman. She urged Emily to keep a wasp-like waist even into old age, so Emily scribbled Dont get fat in her diary and promptly joined the local gym.
Despite being slender and trim, fear gnawed at Emily, pushing her even furthershe began shedding more weight, desperate to avoid mistakes. Mrs. Davies was always ready with another nugget of wisdom: In a proper family, both husband and wife work.
Emily didnt protest; she, too, longed for a sense of purpose. She was prepared to take any job, and when she asked Mrs. Davies how she should manage work while on maternity leave, the reply was sharp: Thats your business. You sort it out yourself.
Emily didnt jot this one down, but some years after her wedding, when she took parental leave, she found part-time work as a babysitter. It brought her joy, a semblance of independence, but soon enough her husband and mother-in-law complained about how little she earned.
Emily decided she could spend her small wages on a visit to the hairdresser, but Mrs. Davies offered yet another pearl: While youre on parental leave, you dont need to bother dressing up! Wait until youre back at workyou can get your hair done then. For now, save your money.
Emily gave all her earnings to her husbandanother unwritten law passed down from Mrs. Davies throughout her marriage: A good wife handles all the housework herself!
And so, Emily did just that. Exhaustion became her companion; she struggled through every task alone, sometimes collapsing from weariness. Most nights, after the youngest child was finally asleep by nine, she dragged herself to clean the flat and prepare meals for tomorrow. Meanwhile, her husband was already on his tenth napafter all, he worked and was terribly tired.
It was almost inevitable that Emily ended up in hospital. She never had time to attend to the random pains in her body, ignoring the slow onset of serious illness. She stayed at St. Marys for more than two weeks, and neither her husband nor Mrs. Davies came to visit, not even once. With luck, Emily had her mobile at hand when she arrived, and she rang her friend Alice, who brought everything she needed.
When Emily finally left the hospital, she walked straight to the solicitors office and filed for divorce, her determination sharpened like the cold London wind that swept along the pavement outside.
