I am absolutely fed up with your mothers antics! Im filing for divorce, and thats final! I blurted out to James as soon as he walked in.
The key turned in the lock just as I was scrubbing away the last evidence of her visit from our kitchen table. There were still crumbs from the shortbread biscuits shed insisted on bringing especially for her grandson Oliver is only twelve months old, too young for all that sugar. The coffee stain lingered, yet again, where shed knocked her cup with her elbow as she flailed about, ranting that I was raising my child all wrong.
Hi, James said, sounding so tired. He tossed his coat over the back of the chair without even looking at me.
I didnt answer. I kept methodically wiping the same spot on the table, though the surface already sparkled. Everything inside me was boiling over. Three years. Id endured three years of this.
Whats happened? He finally looked up, no doubt sensing the tension.
I threw the cloth into the sink, sending water splashing up the tiles.
I am sick and tired of your mothers behaviour! Im filing for divorce, and thats the end of it!
The words shot out of me, sharp as a slap. I hadnt planned to say it just then. But Id had enough. I’d reached breaking point.
James froze. He opened his mouth, closed it, then forced a weak, nervous smile.
What are you on about?
Ive said what I needed to, my voice came out steadier than I felt. Take your things or Ill take mine. Whatever you prefer.
He shuffled into the kitchen and plopped down on a chair, rubbing his face with his hands. I stood at the sink, arms folded tight across my chest, staring at him at this man Id married four years ago in a white dress, believing wed build something real.
Alice, can we just talk this out like normal?
Normal? I actually laughed. Oh, was it normal earlier when your precious mum burst in here with that spare key you gave her behind my back, just to interrogate me about why theres ready meals in the fridge?
Shes just worried, thats all
Shes just making my life miserable! I was raising my voice before I could stop myself. Every single week, James! Every bloody week she pops round, poking her nose in, criticising how I clean, how I cook, how I dress Oliver!
He said nothing, just looked down at the table.
Do you know what she said today? I swallowed hard, hating even to repeat it. She told me Im a terrible mother. Right in front of Oliver! And he might be small, but he understands more than you lot think!”
She didnt mean
Your mother never *means* to! I slammed my fist on the table. But somehow, Im always left feeling wrong! Did she mean to ruin my birthday when she kept going on all night about how wonderful her friends daughter-in-law is? Did she mean to embarrass me at New Years in front of your relatives, saying Im too lazy to get a job?
James met my eye, and he looked completely drained not angry, not defensive, just worn out.
So, what do you want me to do, then?
That was the question Id been waiting for, and it snapped something in me.
I want you to stand up for me! Even just once in three years of marriage! Just once, put your wife first, instead of your mum!
Dont make this so dramatic
Dramatic?! I broke off mid-shout as I heard Oliver stirring through the baby monitor. I lowered my voice. Am I being dramatic when she threw a tantrum six months ago because we wouldnt trek down to hers every weekend? When she expects us to report what we spend our money on? When she wants to choose Olivers nursery for us?
Alice, shes only trying to help
Help? I grabbed the carrier bag your mum brought today and dumped it over the table. Look at this! She bought underwear for me. Without asking. Because, and I quote, youve got no sense of style, have to look decent for my James!
Shapeless beige knickers, at least three sizes too big. A grey bra that wouldnt look out of place on my gran. James turned beetroot red.
That was a bit much
A bit much? Its humiliating! I cant do this anymore! Every day I wake up wondering what shell do next. What advice shell insist on, how shell ruin my mood.
I couldnt sit still, pacing the tiny kitchen. Anger, hurt, disappointment, all knotted together.
And you youre always on her side. She didnt mean to. Shes only concerned. She means well. Well, who looks after me?
I love you, he whispered.
Love isnt just words, James. Its actions. Its standing between me and the person whos hurting me. Even if that person is your mother.
He slumped back in the chair, staring out at the black December night beyond the window.
She finds it hard to accept that Im an adult now. That I have my own family.
Oh, its hard for *her*? And me, living in constant fear? Never able to relax in my own home because your mum could just wander in?
Ill get her keys back
Its not the bloody keys! I sat down, eyeing him squarely. Its that you let her interfere. You never tell her to stop. You never protect us.
A minutes silence. Only the fridge humming and the clock ticking on the wall.
I dont even know how to, he admitted. He sounded so small. Shes always been in control.
Then make a choice. Her, or me.
It sounded impossible, so stark. But there was no other way left.
Alice, thats not fair
Not fair? I was on my feet in a flash. Was it fair, the three years I put up with it? Was it fair when she told my family I married you for your money? Was it fair when she came to the hospital and announced our baby was nothing like me?
James stood, tried to hug me. I stepped away.
No. Enough. I mean it. Either you set boundaries with her tonight, or Im gone.
Alice
No. Im done apologising for not being good enough for your mum or anyone else! Im done living a life that isnt mine!
His phone buzzed on the table. I watched his jaw tighten as he read the screen Mum.
He picked up. Yeah hi Mum no, everythings fine
Thats when I snapped.
I grabbed the phone, pressed speaker.
so, did you tell her? his mothers voice came, tense. About the flat?
I stared at James. Hed gone pale.
What flat? I asked, all cold composure.
A pause. Then her voice came back, strangely syrupy, Oh Alice, sweetheart, its not your concern
Im his wife. It bloody well is. What flat?
James reached for the phone, I moved away.
We were just talking she began, my sister Janets got her two-bed in Brixton coming up for sale. They want to move quick her sons heading off to uni in Manchester and needs the cash.
Janet. The one who always brags at family dos about how useless I am, and about her daughter-in-law who manages a law firm.
And?
Mum suggested we buy it. Good family rate.
And *whose* money were you planning to use?
His silence gave me the answer.
Whose, James?!
Your savings, he finally said, all but mumbling, And a bit of mine.
My savings. The ten grand Id squirreled away for five years before we got married. Worked two jobs, skipped holidays. My dream was to open a little nail salon. I had a whole business plan, dammit.
So, you and your mum discussed this. Not me.
Alice, love, its a great deal! Decent area
And what about me? My plans? My dreams?
That can wait
Wait? Im thirty, Ive been home with the baby for two years. How much longer am I supposed to wait?
On the phone, his mother started up again.
Oh, Alice darling, dont get carried away. The salons a lovely idea, but youve got a baby! That can come later. The flat is an investment, its family
Family, I repeated. Family that decides my life without me.
I laid the phone down, staring at James.
Were you even going to tell me? Or would you have just taken my money?
I was going to talk
To whom? Your mum? Janet? When was it my turn?
Suddenly, the door crashed open the infamous spare key. In barges his mother in a fur coat, cheeks crimson from the cold.
Whats all this? James, why is she yelling?
Janet trotted in behind her, beaming that smug smile.
Oh, hello, Alice. Thought wed pop by and bring the paperwork for the flat
Paperwork. Not even a by-your-leave.
Get out, I said, voice low.
What? Eyes bulged.
I said get out of my house! Both of you!
How dare you She stormed towards me. James, are you hearing how shes speaking to me?!
Mum, maybe just not now
Not now?! I gave you everything! Raised you on my own after your father passed! And now, because of this she jabbed a finger at me, this ungrateful
Just stop! I screamed. Janet jumped. Both of you, just get out!
Alice, dont be silly, Janet piped in, Its a good opportunity Tom gets his tuition, you get a flat, win-win
I dont want your flat! I want a husband who respects me! I want a family where Im not a stranger!
His mum spat, And who do you think you are? Just because youre young and pretty James only married you because you got knocked up! If it werent for Oliver, youd never have fit in with us!
The silence was crushing.
James stood there, mouth half open.
Is it true? I asked.
Nothing. Dead silence.
James. Is it true you only married me because I was pregnant?
I I loved you
Loved. Past tense. I see.
I grabbed my bag off the hook. Slid my phone into my coat.
Alice, please
Dont. Leave the keys on the table. Come for your things tomorrow, when Im not here.
You cant just walk out!
Oh, I can, and I am. Away from you. Away from your precious mum. Away from all of this circus.
His mum tried to grab my wrist. Are you abandoning your child?
Ill get Oliver tomorrow. Im not dragging him through this, not tonight. He can sleep in peace, unlike the rest of us.
I pulled the door open and stepped into the corridor. The cold smacked me in the face. My feet carried me mechanically down the stairs.
James came running after me.
Alice, wait! Where are you going?
I didnt look back. Just kept walking. Down the third floor, second
We can sort this! Ill talk to her, honestly!
First floor. The main door.
The icy air bit into my lungs. I walked faster, coat unbuttoned, no scarf. Didnt care. I just needed out from that house, those people, that entire mess of a life.
My phone buzzed. Mum. I ignored it. Again, it vibrated James. Ignored. Ringing again his mum. Switched to silent.
Only slowed when I reached the Tube. Sat down on an icy bench, hands shaking whether from cold or from the nerves, no idea.
What had I done?
Id left. Just up and gone without my things, without my child, no plan. Like in a film. Only in films, the heroine finds herself, meets Prince Charming and lives happily ever after. In real life?
In real life, Im sat shivering on a bench in December with twenty quid to my name purse left behind, just the card in my pocket. Nowhere to go. Mums in a tiny council flat in Croydon with my little sister Emma, whos still at uni. No space, not even for a camp bed.
My old friend Rachel? Shes down in Battersea with her husband and two kids. Shes hardly got room for me too.
Another text James: Im sorry. Lets meet tomorrow, talk calmly.
As if you could talk calmly about the fact your whole lifes a sham. That your husband married you out of duty, not love. That his mother sees you as little more than a leech. And your dreams? No one cares.
Another message, this time from a strange number: Alice, its Janet. Don’t do anything hasty. The flat really is lovely. Think of Oliver children need space. Give me a ring.
They all want to talk. But really, they talk to each other and just inform me afterward.
I got up and headed for the station, digging the card out of my pocket. Thank goodness it still worked. Down into the Tube. The warm air, the rumble of trains, the screech of brakes everything numb.
I got off at Finsbury Park, just because I always liked the name. Walked the streets in the dark, the sparkly Christmas lights and window displays glittering. Everyone rushing to their lives, and me, lost and invisible amongst them.
I ended up at a 24-hour café. Ordered tea at least the card paid. Sat beside a window, watching the world and thinking.
About Oliver. Tomorrow morning, hell wake up and call for me. And I wont be there. What will James tell him? That Mummys gone? That she abandoned them?
My heart clenched. No. I havent abandoned anything. I just I need time. To think. To figure out what comes next.
A waitress came by young, maybe twenty-five, looking knackered.
Anything else I can get you?
No, thank you.
She hesitated, studying me.
Sorry, none of my business, but you okay?
Wry smile. Doesnt look like it, does it?
Want to talk?
Strange. This complete stranger offering a shoulder. Maybe she could sense I was barely holding on. Or maybe it was just a slow shift.
I left my husband. Just now. An hour ago.
She slid into the seat opposite.
Ive got a break. Tell me about it?
And I did. Everything the mother-in-law from hell, the flat, the heartbreak, Oliver, not knowing what to do. The words spilled out, unstoppable.
She just listened. When I finished, she said:
Want to know something? I had almost exactly this happen to me. Three years ago. Lived with a bloke whose mum ran everything. I put up with it, thinking it would get better. It never did.
What did you do?
Left. Just like you. Penniless, nothing but my phone. Stayed with mates, rented a room. It was hell. But for the first time in ages I could breathe.
And did you have kids?
No. You have?
A son. Little Oliver.
She nodded. Thatll make it tougher. But honestly, youll manage. Just promise yourself you wont go back to that situation. If you do, theyll know youll always stay, and nothing ever changes.
I finished my cold tea.
Im scared I wont manage alone.
She smiled. Who says youll be alone? Youve got family, friends. Youre stronger than you think. If youve managed to leave, you can manage anything.
We swapped numbers. Her name was Kate. A waitress, yes, but the most support Id had in years.
I left the café at sunrise. The city was slowly waking up. I checked my phone twenty-three missed calls. James, his mum, my mum, even Rachel. I suppose everyone knew by now.
I texted James: Tomorrow, two oclock, somewhere public. No mothers. Well discuss Oliver and the divorce. Dont call.
Sent it. Exhaled.
The future was a total unknown. Rented flats, family court, custody fights. Terrifying, yes. But not half as terrifying as the thought of living one more year in that flat, with those people, those rules.
I set off down the empty street, and for the first time in years, I actually felt free.
