Ive had enough of your mothers stunts! Im filing for divorcethats final! I declared.
The key twisted in the lock just as I was finishing wiping away the last traces of her visit. Crumbs from the shortbread biscuits she brought just for her grandson, though little Henry was only one and shouldnt have so much sugar. A stain from spilled teashe always elbowed her cup aside when her arms started flying during her tirades about how I wasnt raising my son properly.
Hello, Arthurs voice was weary as he flung his coat over the back of a chair, not even glancing my way.
I didnt answer. I kept wiping the spotless tabletop in neat circles, though it already shone. Inside, everything was bubbling, frothing, desperate for escape. Three years. Three years I had endured.
Whats wrong? He finally turned, sensing trouble lurking.
I tossed the cloth into the sink, splashing the tiles.
Ive had enough of your mothers antics! Im divorcing you. Thats it.
The words burst forth, harsh and sudden, like a slap. I hadnt meant to say itnot now. But the dam had burst.
Arthur froze. Mouth open, then closed again. He let out a nervous, hollow little chuckle.
Are you alright?
Ive said what I needed to. My voice sounded calmer than I felt. Take your things, or Ill take mineyour choice.
He trudged into the kitchen and collapsed onto a chair, rubbing his face with his hands. I stood at the sink, arms folded, staring at himthe man Id married four years ago in hope and white lace, daring to believe wed build something real.
Eleanor, cant we just talk about it sensibly
Sensibly? I laughed. Sensible was this afternoon when your mum barged in with the spare keyyou know, the one you gave her without telling meand started grilling me about why there were ready meals in our fridge?
She worries, thats all
Shes making my life a living hell! I raised my voice. Every week, Arthur. Every wretched week, she finds a reason to barge in, paw through our things, criticise my cleaning, my cooking, how I dress Henry!
He stared at the table in silence.
Today she said… I swallowed, because repeating it hurt, she said I was a bad mother. Right in front of Henry. Hes little, but children know more than you think.
She didnt mean
She never means it! I slammed my fist on the table. But every time, somehow, Im the villain! She didnt mean to ruin my birthday, yet spent the whole evening raving about her friends daughter-in-law. She didnt mean to insult me, but at Christmas she announced, in front of everyone, that I was too lazy to get a job!
Arthur looked up at me. Not angry or indignantjust tired.
What do you want me to do?
That question. Id waited for that one. It was the drop that made the cup overflow.
I want you to stand up for me! Just once, Arthur. Just once in these three years, put your wife before your mother!
Dont exaggerate
Exaggerating? My voice cracked into a shout; in the baby monitor, I heard Henry stirring in his cot, so I forced myself to lower my tone. Did I exaggerate when she made a scene six months ago because we couldnt spend weekends at her cottage? Or when she demanded to know every penny we spent? When she decided for us which nursery Henry would attend?
Eleanor, shes just trying to help
To help? I grabbed the bag his mother had brought. Look! She brought me underwear. Bought without even asking! Because, and I quote, You have no taste, you need to look decent for my son.
I dumped the contents on the table: large, beige knickers that would have been loose on me, a grey bra, the kind my gran might have worn. Arthur flushed scarlet.
Thats a bit much, Ill admit
A bit much? Its humiliating! I cant do this anymore! Every day I wake up dreading what shell say, what advice shell offer, how shell ruin my mood!
I paced the kitchen, anger and hurt and disappointment all twisting inside me.
And youyoure always on her side. Mum didnt mean it, Shes concerned, She tries her best. And who supports me?
I love you, he whispered.
Love isnt just words, Arthur. Love is action. Its when you stand between me and the one whos hurting meeven if that person is your mother.
He leaned back, gazing out the window into the black December night.
She finds it hard to accept that Ive grown up. That I have my own family now.
She finds it hard? I nearly choked. What about me? I live on edge, cant relax in my own home, because your mother could barge in at any second with another lecture!
Ill get her to return the keys…
Its not about the damn keys! I sat across from him and locked eyes. Its that you let her interfere. You never say enough. You dont protect us.
Silence, broken only by the humming fridge and the tick of the kitchen clock.
I dont know how to do that, he admitted at last. Shes always… controlled everything. All my life.
Well then, choose. Its her or me.
It sounded harsh, ultimate. But it had come to that.
Eleanor, thats not fair…
Not fair? I stood up. Was it fair to put up with her attacks for three years? Stay silent when she told my parents I married you for your money? Smile when she announced in the maternity ward that Henry looked nothing like me?
Arthur rose too and tried to reach out to meI stepped away.
Dont. I mean it. Either you talk to her tonight and set some boundaries, or Im gone.
Eleanor…
No. Thats it. Im tired of apologising for not being enough for her son. Of living someone elses life!
The phone on the table vibrated. Arthur looked at the screen; I saw his jaw tense. Mum flashed on the display.
He answered.
Hello… yeah, Mum… no, everythings fine…
Something snapped within me.
I snatched the phone and pressed the speaker button.
…Have you told her? came his mothers fraught voice. About the flat?
I stared at Arthur. He blanched.
What flat? I asked evenly.
A pause. Then her voice, suddenly syrupy: Eleanor, darling, its not your concern…
Im his wife. It is my concern. What flat?
Arthur tried to take the phone, but I stepped away.
Arthur and I were discussing, said his mother, my sister Margaret has a two-bed coming free. They want to sell. Simon needs the money for university in London…
Simon. Her nephew. At every family party, he would boast about his wife the accountant and sneer at my life choices.
And? I looked at Arthur.
Mums offered… we could buy the flat. Cheap.
With what money?
He said nothing.
What money, Arthur?
Your savings, he mumbled. And mine too, obviously…
My savings. The fifteen thousand pounds Id scraped together in five years, before the wedding, working two jobs, dreaming of opening my own nail salon. I even had a business plan drawn up.
You discussed this with her. Without me.
Eleanor, it makes sense! Affordable flat in a good area…
And what about me? My voice was eerily calm. My plans? My aspirations?
The salon can wait…
Wait? Im thirty, Arthur. Ive been home two years with Henry. When am I meant to do anything for myself?
His mother piped up: Oh, Eleanor, forget the salon! Henrys only little. You can worry about that later! The flats a great investmentMargarets only giving us this price as family!
Family, I repeated. A family who decides everything for me. Where my opinion doesnt matter.
I set the phone down and stared at Arthur.
Were you ever going to tell me? Or just take the money?
I meant to talk, soon…
Talk to whom? Youve talked to your mother. And Simon, I suppose. When would you have bothered with me?
The front door crashed openthe spare key again. His mother blustered in, fur coat and cheeks red from the cold.
What on earth is going on? Arthur, is she shouting at me?
Behind her came Margaret herself, plump and smug, clutching documents.
Hello, Eleanor. We were just passing bythought wed show you the paperwork…
Theyd even brought the forms. Not even asked.
Out, I said quietly.
What? his mother goggled.
I said, get out of my house. Both of you.
How dare you speak to me like that? She stepped forward, her eyes wild. Arthur, do you hear what shes saying?
Mum, maybe now isnt he mumbled.
Not now? Not now? After all Ive done! Raised you alone after your father died! Everything for you! And you take her sideher! This ungrateful
Shut up! I yelled. So loudly Margaret jolted. Just shut up and get out! Now!
Eleanor, dear, dont overreact, Margaret tried to smooth things over. Its a brilliant flat! Simon needs the money, you need the spaceperfect for everyone!
I dont want your flat! I want a husband who values my opinion! I want a family where Im not an outsider!
And who do you think you are? His mother exploded. Do you think being pretty and young means anything? Arthur only married you because you got pregnant! If it hadnt been for that child, youd never have fit into our family!
Silence.
Arthur stood there, white, his mouth agape.
Is that true? I asked.
He said nothing.
Arthur, is it true? Did you marry me only because I was pregnant?
I… I did love you…
Loved. Past tense. I nodded. Right.
I grabbed my bag from the shelf and stuffed my phone inside.
Eleanor, wait Arthur lurched towards me.
Dont. Leave the keys on the table. Collect your things tomorrow, when Im gone.
You cant just walk out!
I can. And I am. From you, your mother, this entire circus.
His mother lunged for my arm.
Youre abandoning your child?!
Ill get Henry tomorrow. With the police if I must. Tonight he should sleep in peacehe doesnt need this drama.
I wrenched open the door and plunged down the stairs; the cold slapped my face. My feet carried me along, automatic.
The door banged behind meArthur ran after me.
Eleanor, wait! Where are you going?!
I didnt look back. Down another flight, and another. Fourth floor, third, second…
Well sort it out! Ill talk to MumI promise!
First floor. I shot outside.
The night air burned my lungs. I kept walkingfaster, faster. Coat open, scarf forgottendidnt care. All that mattered was away. Away from that house, those people, that life.
The phone buzzed, Mum calling. I ignored it. AgainArthur. Ignore. Now his mother. Switched it to silent.
I only stopped when I reached the Tube. Sat down on a frozen bench. My hands shook, from cold or nerves or both.
What have I done?
Walked out. Just left. No things, no child, no plan. Like a scene from a filmonly in films, the heroine finds herself, meets a dashing stranger, lives happily ever after. But in real life?
In real life Im sitting on a freezing bench in December. No moneythe purses still at home, only my phone with me. Nowhere to go. Mum rents a poky flat with my little sister Alice, whos still at unithere isnt even room for a camp-bed.
My friend Emma? Her place is packed already, husband and two kids. They dont need me as a houseguest.
The phone pinged again. Text from Arthur: Im sorry. Lets talk tomorrow. Calmly.
Talk calmly. As if its possible to calmly discuss that your life is farce, your husband married you out of duty, your mother-in-law thinks youre a leech, your dreams are of no importance.
Another message, this time from an unknown number: Eleanor, its Margaret. Dont be rash. The flat really is lovely. Think about Henryhe needs more space. Give me a ring, well discuss.
Discuss. They just want to discuss. Not with mewith each other. The decisions handed down like judgements from on high.
I got up and headed into the station. Found my card in my pocketwell, at least there was that. I boarded the trainno idea where I was going.
Got off at Angeljust because the name sounded lovely. Roamed the streets. The city sparkled with lights, shopfronts gleaming, people hurrying by, intent and together. I felt unmanned, adrift, invisible.
I ducked into a 24-hour café. Ordered teathank God the card worked. Sat by the window, watching the world, wrestling my thoughts.
About Henry. In the morning, hed call for mummyand I wouldnt be there. What would Arthur say? That Id left? Forsaken them?
My heart twisted. No, I hadnt abandoned them. I just…needed time. Time to breathe and decide how to live.
A waitress approachedyoung, maybe twenty-five, exhausted.
Anything else for you?
No, thank you.
She lingered, searching my face.
Sorry, but…are you alright?
I gave a wry little smile.
Doesnt look like it, does it?
Want to talk? she offered.
Strange, a total stranger offering an ear. Maybe I looked as broken as I felt. Maybe it was just a slow shift.
I left my husband tonight, I told her. An hour ago.
She sat down. Im on my break. Tell me about it?
And I did. Everything. His mother, the flat, the humiliation and the confession, and having no idea where to go next. Words rushed outI couldnt stop them.
She listened, then said, You know, I went through the same thing. Three years ago. Boyfriends mum always meddling. I kept hoping itd improvebut it only ever got worse.
So what did you do?
I walked. Like you did. No stuff, no cash. Slept on couches, then rented a room. It was hell. But for once, I felt free.
Did you have kids?
No. Do you?
A sonhes one.
She nodded. Tougher, but its possible. Justpromise me, dont go back to how it was. If you do, nothing will change. Theyll know you wont leave, and itll all get worse.
I finished my cold tea.
Im scared Im not strong enough.
Who says youre alone? She smiled. Youve got friends. Family. And youre stronger than you know. If you could leave tonight, you can get through the rest.
We swapped numbers. Her name was Pippa. A stranger, but shed given me more support than Arthur ever had.
I left the café as dawn cracked over London. The city was waking. I checked my phonetwenty-three missed calls. Arthur, his mother, my mum, even Emmahe must have rung everyone.
I sent him one message: Meet me tomorrow at two, somewhere neutral. Without your mother. To discuss Henry and the divorce. Dont call again.
Sent. Exhaled.
The future was a formless fogrented rooms, courts, custody. Frightening? Yes. But not as terrifying as a lifetime spent in that house, with those people, unseen, unheard.
I wandered through the waking city, and for the first time in three years, I truly felt free.
