Everything Should Be Split Evenly
Charlotte, we need to talk about spending. Your spending, to be preciseabout how much of a spendthrift you are.
Charlotte paused, her cup of tea halfway to her lips. It was seven oclock in the morning, shed hardly woken up, and there was George in the kitchen doorway, looking as if he were about to deliver a judgement at court.
What spending? And why am I a spendthrift? She took a sip anyway, though the tea seemed to lose all taste.
You spend too much on yourself. Every weekbags, parcels. A new dress, or that cream for fifty pounds.
Charlotte placed her cup on the table, rather slowly. What a way to begin a daywithout so much as a good morning, love.
The cream was thirty pounds, if youre so keen on numbers. And its not every weekits once every two months.
Charlotte, we share a household budget.
He said it in the measured tone of a teacher explaining simple arithmetic to a particularly dim class. Charlotte gritted her teeth. She counted to five. It didnt help.
George, do you want me to remind you how much you spend on your car every month?
He frowned, clearly not prepared for a rebuttal this early.
Thats different.
Of course it is. Petrol, car washes, those additives, insurance, service every six months. Not that Ive ever set foot behind the wheel of your Land Rover, by the way.
I drive it to work, George crossed his arms. Its my work tool.
Charlotte gave a short, tense laugh.
A work tool? Oh, do be serious. And these clothes and lotions, what do you suppose I need them for? Amusement? I work in the office, I meet with clients. I can hardly turn up in a baggy sweatshirt and chapped cheeks.
Well, surely you could economise a bit.
I could, Charlotte nodded. Let me attend every meeting for the next three years in the same jacket, then. And you can sell your Land Rover and buy, I dont know, a Ford Fiesta. It still gets you to work, doesnt it?
George opened his mouth, shut it, rubbed his brow.
Youre twisting things.
No, its you whos twisting them. When it’s your spending, its an investment. Mine is always extravagant. Convenient maths, that.
He was silent for a few moments before waving a hand and leaving the kitchen. Charlotte heard the front door slam behind him.
Her tea had gone stone-cold. She poured it down the sink and pressed her forehead to the tiles above.
What a marvellous start to the day…
At work, Vera nearly choked on her salad as she listened.
Wait, he seriously said that? First thing in the morning?
Charlotte poked at her pork pie with a fork. She hadnt had an appetite all morning, and it hadnt returned five hours later.
Seriously. I didnt even get to finish my tea.
Thats classic, Vera leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowed. My ex tried the same trick. Said we should make it all fifty-fifty. To be modern, to be fair.
And?
I just pointed things out. I said, You eat twice as much as me. Lookme, a yoghurt for breakfast; you, four eggs and bacon. I have a salad for lunch; you get double mains. So for food, dear, youll pay proportionally.’
Charlotte smiled. Vera would have made a fine solicitor; her logic was always watertight.
Did he work it out?
Oh, yes. Carried a calculator and receipts for three days. Then he dropped it. A month later, we called it quits.
You think it was about that?
I think it was a symptom, Vera shrugged and turned back to her salad. If a man starts counting your pennies, his heart isnt with you. Hes married to the idea, not to you.
Charlotte said nothing. There was something uncomfortably accurate in Veras words.
That evening, she took her time getting home. She stepped off the bus a stop early for a walk. The air smelt of wet tarmac and something faintly bitterleaves, perhaps, or exhaust fumes. She didnt want to dwell on what might greet her at home.
The flat greeted her with silence. George wasnt back yet. Charlotte changed, got a chicken out of the fridge with some vegetables, and set about cooking. Her hands moved of their own accordchop, season, frying pan. Her mind was blessedly clear, and that was a comfort.
George arrived around eight. He glanced into the kitchen, paused in the doorway.
Did you spend anything unnecessary today?
Charlotte didnt turn round, just kept stirring the vegetables.
No. Didnt buy a thing.
He nodded and went to change. Charlotte turned off the hob and set the table. Two plates, salad, the chicken and veg. Everything as usual, though the portions were a little meanerthe fridge was bare, and she had refused herself a top-up grocery trip. They sat down. George looked at his plate, then at Charlotte.
Why so little food?
Charlotte laid her fork gently at the edge of her plate, gave him a calm, measured look.
Well, you wanted everything split down the middle. So, thats down the middle.
George blinked, once, then again. His fork paused on its journey.
What do you mean?
Just what I said. I made supper and split it into two equal parts. Thats your half, she nodded at his plate. By the by, Ive enough for breakfast too. As for youno idea what youll manage in the morning. The groceries are household, and everything is split. Wouldnt be fair to spend more on you, would it?
He put down his fork, cheeks flushing and jaw working.
Charlotte, this is a bit… off.
Is it? Charlotte arched an eyebrow and leaned back. Which part exactly? You wanted to split the costsIm splitting.
I meant something different!
Something like only my expenses get cut, and yours dont?
George said nothing. She watched him fumble for an argument and come up empty.
By the way, she picked up her glass, how much did you spend on petrol today?
Whats petrol got to do with it?
Everything. How much?
He hedged, frowned, did some mental arithmetic.
Er… about two pounds, maybe two-fifty.
Well call it two, Charlotte rose from the table. Hold on a moment.
She disappeared into the hallway. George heard the coat cupboard open, some rummaging. She returned with his wallet.
What are you doing? he half-stood.
Taking my half.
She calmly opened it, removed two pound coins, folded them into her pocket. George stared, open-mouthed.
Charlotte, are you being serious right now?
Completely, she set the wallet before him. You spent two pounds on petrolthat means Im entitled to two pounds for my personal use. Nice and fair. Just as you wanted.
Its absurd!
This is your system, George. Im merely putting it into practice. Charlotte smiled and sat back down. Who knows, at this rate, I might save up for another cardigan.
George said nothing. His jaw worked, a vein stood out in his neck, but he uttered not a word. Charlotte calmly returned to her chicken.
The meal passed in silence.
The week dragged on. Every evening Charlotte made dinner strictly for two, splitting the portions precisely. George eyed his plate, then hers, frowning but saying nothing. Each morning, she asked how much petrol he planned to use; each evening, she took her half. By Wednesday, hed started getting the Tube to work.
By Friday, he looked gaunt and wolfish.
By the weekend, Charlotte had almost thirty pounds tucked away in her own envelope. George was buying snacks at workthere simply wasnt enough food at home. Charlotte knew, having counted all of Georges cash on Monday night. Fifty-fifty, to the letter.
Saturday morning, George sat in the kitchen with a mug of tea. When Charlotte entered, he looked up, shadows heavy under his eyes.
Char… he faltered, rubbed his neck. I was in the wrong. Im sorry.
Charlotte poured herself tea, sat opposite, hands warming on the mug, and waited.
Its all daft, George sighed. A stupid idea, really. I read too much, got obsessed with this splitting business. Can we forget about it?
Of course, she agreed easily. Just remember, I havent even started adding up my household work.
What work?
Cooking, cleaning, laundry, ironing. If Id calculated all that at market prices, youd owe me at least another thirty pounds. At a minimum.
George spluttered into his tea, coughing, grabbing a napkin.
But I wont, Charlotte sipped her tea, watching him over the rim, as long as you promise not to turn our marriage into an accounts ledger. Deal?
Deal, he nodded quickly. I swearno more calculations.
Excellent.
Charlotte smiled and reached for a biscuit. George looked at her like a man who had narrowly escaped catastrophe.
And Charlotte reflected that, sometimes, you just have to let a mans foolish notions run their course. Show him the absurdity from within. Turn it to your advantage.
That way, not only can you rescue a marriage, but you might also win an argument with your husband, too. A simple bit of arithmetic, really.
