Sarah arrived home earlier than expected, her arms straining from the weight of bags filled with treats from her parents. She had wanted to surprise her husband, Arthur, but instead of a warm welcome, he sent her straight out to the shops. The consequences, as I remember, were nothing anyone could have foreseen.
Her shoulder ached so deeply that a gasp escaped her lips as she paused at the battered paving of the bus stop. For the past two months, her lower back had become a constant complainta companion through every step. Gingerly setting the overstuffed carrier bags down, Sarah exhaled, the chill of the air filling her lungs.
The baby grew restless within her, as though protesting. Six months onno small matter. Especially when you decide to come home three days early from your parents to surprise your husband. Shed missed him so much that, on the last hundred miles, shed counted every passing mile marker, each one bringing her closer to their little London flat.
What could Arthur be doing now? He surely had no notion she was herejust a ten-minute walk from home. Yet the journey from the stop felt twice as long, her parents giftsjars of marmalade and chutney, home-cured bacon, heavy Bramley applesseemed to weigh a tonne.
Fifty yards in, Sarah realised she simply couldnt manage. Her back was giving out.
She reached for her phone and dialled Arthur.
Arthur, love, its me, she whispered when he finally answered.
Sarah? Whats going on? Whats happened? his voice came, slightly panicked.
Its nothing, honestly. Im home! Im at the bus stop, just in front of our building. Can you come and help me? These bags Mums packed so much
There was a curious silence on the line. Sarah glanced at her phone, wondering if the connection was lost.
Youre at the stop? Arthurs voice squeaked. Right now? But you didnt say! I thought you were coming Thursday!
I wanted it to be a surprise, she replied, frowning. Arthur, are you not pleased? Im exhausted. Come out, will you?
Wait! Dont come up! Or rather, do, but Sarah, listen, theres literally nothing in the house. I finished everything off last night. You know what, why dont you just nip into the corner shop? Just grab some beef, something decent if you can. I took the day off today, want to make us a proper lunch. Ill welcome you home properly, I promise.
Beef? Arthur, are you serious? Sarah blinked in confusion. Did you hear me? Im six months pregnant, Im on the street with these gigantic bags!
My back! Honestly, theres some potatoes, some eggs at home. Please, meet mejust let me eat, and let me rest.
No, Sarah, you dont get it, he spoke faster, cutting her off. I want everything to be just right. Its only round the corner, the shop. Get some beef, and some fresh potatoes, ours are no good now. Ask someone to help you, maybe, or carry them slowly Please! Its for us. Im getting things ready here.
She stared at the red marks on her palms, the sting and disappointment rising within her.
Arthur, have you lost your mind? Her voice shook. You want melike this, with these bagsto go buy beef so you can make lunch?
Cant you come down and get them yourself?
Ive already started preparations! If I leave now itll ruin everything. Sarah, Ive been waiting for you. Grab eight hundred grams of beef? And a small sack of potatoes, the netted ones. Quick, Im counting on you!
He hung up. Sarah gazed at the dull screen, hardly able to believe it. She fought not to cry right there under the glaring London streetlamp. Instead of a welcoming hug and a cup of tea in a soft bed, she was being sent for groceries. Perhaps, she wondered, he really was planning something extraordinary? She sighed, gathered the bags, and limped toward the shop.
Navigating the aisles with a trolley, she caught the sleepy cashiers sympathetic glance. The beef was heavy; the potatoes nearly unmanageable. By the time she left, her hands were numb, fingers curled stiff as claws.
The phone buzzed again.
Did you get it? Arthurs voice was bright.
I got it, Sarah muttered through gritted teeth. Im at the door nowopen up.
Wait! he nearly yelped. Dont come up! Sit on the bench, just ten minutes, I swear.
Really, Arthur? Ten minutes? My ankles are swollen to twice their size, I cant stand anymore!
The surprise isnt ready! he insisted. If you come now, itll spoil everything. Fresh air will do you good. Five minutes, Sarah, I promise! I have to go, I wont finish in time!
With great effort, Sarah lowered herself onto the bench outside their building, the bags landing with a thud. The urge to launch the wretched sack of beef through the third-story window lingered. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Sarah simmered, trying to imagine what extraordinary scene would justify this: a sea of lilies, a candlelit meal, perhaps a violinist hired for the lounge? Nothing, she thought, could be worth making a pregnant woman sit outside after such a journey.
At the thirty-five-minute mark, the door creaked open. Arthur hurried out, looking rather foolishshirt inside-out, forehead beaded with sweat, hair wild.
There you are! he grinned unconvincingly, grabbing the bags. Why so cross? Lovely weather, isnt it? Oh, I suppose not for you. Lets go, quickly!
Sarah squinted as she hauled herself up, using the railing for support. Why are you soaked, and why can I smell cleaning products from across the street?
Youll see! he replied with exaggerated cheer, all but skipping toward the lift.
They went upstairs. Arthur flung open the front door, awaiting applause. Sarah entered the hall, smacked by the sharp scent of bleach and the overpowering odour of fake sea breeze air freshener. She moved from the lounge, to the kitchen, to the bathroomevery corner was uncommonly bare. Usual piles of clothes and books were gone, the faded rug freshly vacuumed, spots on the skirting boards glistening damply, and her porcelain figurines tucked sadly into corners. The kitchen and dining areas shone with an unfamiliar emptiness.
Well? Arthur beamed, proud as a new shilling. What do you think? Surprise!
Sarah turned to face him, quietly.
Is that all? she asked, her voice small.
What do you mean all? he spluttered and dropped onto a chair. Sarah, look! Three hours I spent! Every floor mopped, even behind the sofa! All the dishes, scrubbed the looit sparkles! I wanted you to walk in to a spotless home, not a thing out of place. I only just finished, thats why you had to wait.
She felt her throat tighten, words threatening to spill out as tears.
You made me slog to the shop, dragging bags, because you were mopping?
You didnt even meet me, though I begged you, because you were cleaning?
Yes! Arthur clapped his hands. I was only trying to do the right thing! Youre always saying I never help at home. I was proving a point. But you came early, you didnt warn me! I had to delay you a bit so I could finish. And now, youre standing there as if Id put a mouse in your pudding, instead of saying thank you!
Arthur, do you hear yourself? Sarah snapped; her voice started to rise. Who cares about the floors right now? My spines in agony, these bags are heavy! Our childArthur, thats what matters. I needed you to take my hand and walk me home, not stand here swinging a mop!
Arthur flushed scarlet, slamming the sopping cloth into the sink.
Oh, here we go! he yelled in reply. Cant do right for doing wrong! While you were out, Ive crawled around for hours, making everything perfect. And nowjust shouts! Did you even notice the place? Cleaner than it was at our wedding!
And Id have traded all of it for ten minutes of help, Sarahs anger shook her. You left me on that bench, Arthur, half an hour! Im chilled through, my feet ache! You sent me for heavy shopping when I could barely walk. This isnt a surpriseits cruel!
Cruel, is it? Arthur shouted, waving his hands. Well, sorry Im not perfect! Any other wife would be delightedhusband cleans, wants to cook. But youalways about yourself! Oh, your aches, your back. What about my tiredness? Ive been up all night thinking how to make you happy!
Sarah covered her face with her hands.
You just dont get it, she sobbed. You dont understand. You chose a spotless floor over how I felt. Over our childs wellbeing.
Arthur threw his arms up. But you came early! You ruined the surprise! If youd come Thursday like you said, youd have seen it all finished. Youd have walked into a perfect home! But noyou barged in early, now Im in the wrong! Youre just ungrateful, Sarah. Utterly ungrateful.
He stormed from the kitchen, slamming the bedroom door.
The baby kicked again. Sarah let herself sink into a chair, eyeing the bag of meat Arthur still hadnt put away. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably.
Ten minutes later, Arthur poked his head through the kitchen door.
So do you want the beef for lunch? he grumbled, not meeting her gaze. Or have you decided to spite me by not eating now?
Dont bother, Arthur, Sarah spoke softly, not turning around. Just leave me alone. I need some sleep.
Well, suit yourself! he snapped and slammed the door once more.
Sarah pulled herself to her feet and shuffled to the bathroom, catching her reflection in the mirrorpale, with dark rings under her eyes and tangled hair.
She remembered that coach ride, imagining Arthur would greet her with open arms, whisper, Thank God youre home. Fat chance. When she finally washed and left the bathroom, tempers flared again. He found something else to blame her for.
She left that home in what she was wearing, not even bothering to change, and went straight back to her parents.
Everyone tried to talk her out of a divorcehis parents, her sister-in-law, cousins from Kent and Colchester. Even Arthur called regularly, begged her to return, promised hed changed. But Sarah had made up her mind: a husband who puts a clean flat above his wifes and childs wellbeing is no husband at all. She knew shed be better off without him.
