Valerie had had enough. She could not stomach Davids cold indifference any longer. She didnt understand why he had turned so distanthad he simply fallen out of love? That night he slipped home past midnight, fell onto the sofa and fell asleep there.
When morning light spilled into the kitchen, David padded off to make tea. Valerie sat opposite him, her hands clenched around a mug.
David, can you tell me whats happening? she asked, voice shaking.
Whats wrong with you? he replied, sipping his coffee and refusing to meet her eyes.
Since the twins were born, youve become a different man, she said, the words tumbling out.
He shrugged. I havent noticed.
Weve been living next door to each other for two years. Do you even see it? she pressed.
He snapped, What have you wanted? The flat is a messtoy cars everywhere, the smell of soggy porridge, the children screaming. Do you think anyone enjoys that?
David, theyre your children! she snapped, rising to pace the kitchen.
All proper wives give birth to one sensible child, someone who plays quietly in the corner so they dont bother anyone. And you have two! My mother warned me, but I didnt listenpeople like you just keep multiplying!
What do you mean, people like me? David sneered.
People without purpose, she shot back.
You pushed me out of university because you wanted me to devote everything to the family! she burst out, then fell back into her chair.
Silence stretched. Finally she whispered, I think we should divorce.
David stared at her, then muttered, Fine. Just dont bother me with maintenance. Ill pay you myself.
He turned and left the kitchen. She fought back tears, but a sudden cry from the childrens bedroom snapped her attention. The twins had awakened, demanding her care.
Within a week she packed her things, gathered the twins, and left. She moved into a large council flat shed inherited from her grandmother. New neighbours lived in the building, so she decided to introduce herself.
On one side lived a dour, middleaged man; on the other, a sprightly lady in her sixties. Valerie knocked on the mans door first.
Good morning! Im your new neighbour. I brought a cakeplease join me for tea in the kitchen, she said, smiling as brightly as she could.
He gave her a onceover, grunted, I dont do sweets, and shut the door in her face.
Shrugging, she went to the lady, Mrs. Eleanor Harding. Eleanor agreed to a brief chat, but only to deliver a speech.
I love a quiet afternoon, because in the evenings I watch my programmes and hope your little ones wont disturb me with their shrieks. Please keep them out of the hallway, dont let them touch anything, make no mess, and certainly dont break anything! she lectured at length, while Valerie imagined a bitter, unsweetened future.
She enrolled the twins in a local nursery and took a job there as a caretaker. The work fit perfectly between the nurserys pickup times for Andrew and Thomas. The pay was pennies, but David had promised to help.
For the first three months of the divorce, David did send occasional cash. After that, the payments stopped. Two months went by and Valerie couldnt even cover the council bill.
Her relationship with Eleanor soured further each day. One evening, as Valerie fed the boys at the kitchen table, a neighbour in a silk robe breezed in.
Sweetheart, have you sorted your finances? Id hate to see the electricity or gas cut off because of you.
Valerie sighed. Not yet. Im going to see my ex tomorrow; hes forgotten the children entirely.
Eleanor stalked over, eyes blazing. You feed them only with spaghetti you know youre a bad mother, dont you?
Im a good mother! Valerie snapped. And youd do well to keep your nose out of my business before you get a knucklesandwich!
Eleanor shrieked, echoing through the flat. From the opposite hallway, Ian, a neighbour on the other side, emerged. He listened to Eleanors tirade, then slipped back into his flat, only to return a minute later, dropping a handful of cash on the table.
Keep quiet. Heres your council money, he muttered, before slipping away. As he vanished, he hissed, Youll regret this!
Valerie tried to ignore it, but the warning lingered. The next day she confronted David.
David, I cant feed my children on empty pockets, she pleaded.
He shrugged, Then feed them. Im not stopping you.
Im filing for maintenance, she warned.
He laughed, Go ahead. My salary is so tiny youll be left in tears. And dont bother me again.
She walked home, tears soaking her coat. A weeks wages were still out of reach, and a surprise visitor waited at her doorOfficer Collins. Eleanor had lodged a complaint, claiming Valerie threatened her life and left the twins starving and unsupervised.
The officer spent an hour lecturing her, then said, I must report this to Social Services.
Report what? I havent done anything wrong, Valerie protested.
Its protocol. Theres a signal, and I have to act on it.
That evening Eleanor returned, eyes flaring.
If your children bother me again, Ill go straight to Social Services, she warned.
But theyre just children! They cant stay still all day! Valerie retorted.
Eleanor glared, If you fed them properly, theyd be sleeping, not running around!
She stormed out, the twins looking terrified. Valerie tried to comfort them, Come on, my dears. Aunties just joking, shes actually kind.
She turned to wipe tears from her eyes, unaware that Ian slipped into the kitchen with a massive bag of groceries. He opened the fridge, loaded it silently, then left without a word. Valerie, stunned, whispered, Ian, youve got the wrong fridge.
The next day she knocked on Ians door, clutching a £20 note.
I owe you for the food. Heres two thousand pence; tell me how much more you need, she said.
Ian snarled, Dont bother. He slammed the door.
Before she could react, Eleanors shrieks erupted from the flat. She rushed intwins trembling, Eleanor pointing at a spilled cup of tea.
Beggars! Vagrants! What will become of you with such upbringing? she shouted.
Valerie rushed the children to their bedroom, mopped the floor, and tried to steady her shaking heart. The twins huddled on the bed, clutching her.
Dont be sad, loves. Well get through this, I promise, she whispered, their small hands wrapping around her.
A week later, the front door burst open. Two strangers in uniform, a social worker and a stern man, entered. The social worker stared at Valerie.
Valerie Harding? she asked.
Yes.
Were from Childrens Services. May we look around?
The woman swept through the flat, opened the fridge, lifted the blanket from the bed.
Gather your children, she ordered.
What? Youre insane! Ill never hand my boys over! Valerie shouted, tears streaming.
Andrew and Thomas clung to her, sobbing, not understanding why strangers were there. The social worker signalled the officer, who wrestled the twins away.
Mom! Dont take us! they cried.
Valerie fought with all her strength. A second man twisted her arms, pinning her. The twins flailed, eyes wide with terror. She broke free, only to be restrained by the officer, who dragged the boys down the stairwell. Their cries echoed, chilling the hallway. When the officer finally released her, she collapsed, howling like a wounded animal. The flat fell silent.
She rose, eyes scanning the room, spotting an old, rusted axe leaning against the wallleft over from her grandmothers days when the building still had coal heating. She lifted it, feeling its weight, a grim smile curling her lips. She stalked toward Eleanors door, axe in hand.
The door was smashed open; Eleanor cowered behind a table, eyes wild. A figure lunged, snatching the axe from Valeries grip.
Fool! What are you doing? Who will suffer now? the man snarled.
It was Ian, his face a mask of fury. Valerie breathed out, I dont care any more.
Ian dragged her to a worn sofa, forced a pill into her hand. She swallowed it, hoping the haze would give her a chance to escape. She knew once Ian turned his back she could bolt for the bridgeuntil the drug dulled her vision. She drifted into unconsciousness, Ians laugh echoing.
He slipped away to Eleanors kitchen, where she sat, dishevelled, nursing a bottle of valerian.
Satisfied? he asked.
Oh, Ian I never imagined it would end like this. I thought it would be simple, she muttered.
Itll be over tomorrow. Collect the letters, pray the courts are kind, or else youll be dead, he hissed.
For a month Valerie gathered paperwork, medical reports, and futile alcohol tests. She felt hopeless, until Ian, ever the grim shadow, kept nudging her forward, refusing to let her sit still. When the possibility of losing her children finally loomed, something inside her stirred.
Ian this is all because of you, she whispered.
He finally smiled, a sad, cracked grin. I lost my own kids five years ago. I could help you.
The night before the tribunal, she slept on Ians threadbare sofa, eyes wide, unable to rest. Ian, halfasleep, murmured, What happened to your children?
He spoke in a flat, monotone voice, recounting a broken marriage, drunken fights, a house that burned down, years in prison, and a return to the factory. Valerie pressed his hand, but he pulled away.
Sleep now. Well be ready tomorrow, he said.
The next morning, a stern officer named Collins entered, holding a thick file.
Ms. Harding, here are the documents. Keep your life in order, so this never repeats.
Valerie stared at the paperwork, numb. The officers wife, a stern woman, smiled coldly, Take your children home.
Valeries legs gave way, but Ian caught her, steadying her as they stood in the waiting room.
Mom! Mom! the twins wailed, clinging to her. Even the officer wiped a tear from his eye.
Enough, he said, lets go home.
Life slowly steadied. Eleanor never left her flat again. Valerie, with Ians help, secured a technician job at the same factory, earning enough to keep food on the tablehardly a fortune, but sufficient if she managed wisely. One day she accidentally dropped Ians coat; his phone fell out, screen flashing her own name. She picked it up, went to his room, and found him staring at the ceiling, frightened.
She sat beside him, Ian, Ive always been afraid to say too much. Ive left so many words unsaid to those who mattered. The worst thing is regretting what was never spoken.
He looked at her, then said, Im not good with words, but know this: Ill do anything for you and the boys.
The drama of their lives lingered, a tangled web of broken homes, bitter neighbours, and fleeting kindness, all under the grey London sky.
