For a Rainy Day
In the kitchen drawer, beneath the spare AA batteries and hairbands, lay a piece of paper folded twice. Emma didnt hold it as a note, but as a tool: she pressed it flat with her palm, edges steady, reading not just with her eyes but with her whole bodylike someone checking instructions before pressing a button.
At the top, written in biro: For a rainy day. Below thata list. Not be strong or pull yourself together, but small, thoroughly tested practical steps.
1. Glass of water. Then tea. Sit for two minutes.
2. Breathe: in for four, out for six, ten times.
3. Call one person from three. Say: I just need five minutes, please listen.
4. Write down three immediate steps. No more.
5. Delegate: ask, pay, postpone.
6. Walk a route: home to chemist via garden square, loop round school, back.
7. Say one honest sentence at home, no blame.
The list had appeared after shed unravelled at the supermarket two years agothe till had fritzed, impatient footsteps behind her, and shed left without buying anything, unable to explain afterwards why shed reacted so sharply. Her therapist had asked during their first session, What do you do when youre overwhelmed? Emma replied, Nothing. I try not to feel. It became clear nothing was an action toojust the most destructive one.
Today, she took out the paper not because things were already bad, but to checkmake sure it was still there, her anchor within reach. Then she refolded it, pressed the creases, put it back in the drawer, and closed it.
On the table sat a container of pasta, beside her sons lunchbox. Emma checked againnapkins, apple, little bag of biscuits. His jacket hung by the door, his homework diary rested on the hall stand. Everything was ready, which somehow made her more anxiouslike before a trip, when youre convinced youve forgotten something.
Her son, Harry, came out of his room pulling up his zip.
Mum, Ive got a maths test today.
I know, Emma replied, giving him a smile meant to mask her inner lets hope for no surprises.
Her husband, James, was already sipping coffee, eyes on his laptop. He worked shifts, and today he needed to drop by the garage for car parts before heading to site.
Could you give me a lift? she asked as she laced her trainers.
Cantmeeting at nine, he answered, without looking up.
Emma swallowed back the irritation. Cant always sounded like wont, even though she knew it wasnt true. She grabbed her bag, checked the keys, debit card, phone charger.
The lift arrived quickly, but on the ground floor the doors jerked and held still. Emma pressed the button again. Silence.
Mum, are we stuck? Harry looked up at her with an oddly grown-up gaze.
No, just give me a sec. She pressed open, close, and then call. The lift sighed and started moving.
Emma felt a surge in her chest, as if someone poured boiling water inside. Nothing had happened, yet her body was already bracing for disaster.
Outside, she saw the bus had gone. People waited at the stop: someone swearing quietly on the phone, someone staring out. Emma checked her watch. If they waited for the next, theyd be late.
Lets walk to the tube, she said. Quickly now.
Harry trotted alongside, trying not to lag behind. Emma held his sleeve so he wouldnt dart onto the road. Her mind was lining up the day: school, then office, then conference call, then
At the station entrance, her phone buzzed in her coat pocket. The school’s number.
Mrs. Evans? The secretarys voice was polite but clipped. Harry doesnt have a doctors note for PE today. He said his knee hurts, but without the note we cant
Emma closed her eyes for a beat.
He really does have pain. We saw the doctor, the notes at homeI forgot to pack it. Can I send you a photo?
We cant accept photos, sorry. We need the original.
Ill bring it after work, Emma said, her words ringing. OrI could ask my husband.
By twelve, the secretary stated.
Emma ended the call and felt something tighten inside. By twelve meant shed have to leave work abruptly, and today was the deadline for her report.
Harry stood close, watching her face.
I didnt mean to, he said.
I know, love. Go on. Everythings fine, Emma reassured him, though fine was already slipping away.
She guided him to school, kissed his hair, then headed back to the tube. In the carriage it was crowded: someone stepped on her foot, laughter echoed loudly. Emma clung to the pole, trying not to dwell on the fact that the day had barely begun.
At the office, she was greeted with the smell of coffee and printers humming. Her colleague gave a nod from the next desk.
Em, our clients on the line. Wheres the final version? Theyre getting twitchy.
Emma sat down, switched on her computer, opened the folder. The file wasnt there. She checked again. Shed saved it to the shared drive yesterdayor had she only thought she had?
Just a sec, she said, feeling her palms grow clammy.
She delved into her emails, traced the exchanges, tried to rebuild the chain. That old phrase surfaced: Youve messed everything up again. Words from childhood, always appearing when decisions were needed, not nostalgia.
Her phone buzzed again. This timeher mother.
Emma, lovetheres a leak under my kitchen tap. Ive put a basin down but its still dripping. Im worried Ill flood the neighbours.
Emma glanced at her screen, at the empty folder, at the clock.
Mum, Im at work. Turn off the water under the sink, theres a valveremember?
I cant turn it, its too stiff.
Use a towel, give it a twist with that. If its still stuck, ring the emergency plumber. Ill send you the number now.
Theyll take ages to arrive.
I know, but I cant come right now. Emma heard her voice get sharper. Ill text you the number, okay?
Her mother was quiet for a few seconds.
All right, she said softly.
Emma hung up and felt guilt settle like a heavy duffel bag on her shoulder. She wanted to be a good daughter, a good mum, a good employee, and a normal person. In these moments, she lost to all of them.
Her manager popped in.
Emma, whats happening with the report? The clients waiting. And, she lowered her tone, yesterday you sent them a draftthe numbers dont add up.
Emma felt heat flush her face.
Ill sort it now. Ill fix it.
Do it quickly, the manager said, leaving.
Emma stared at her screen, recognising the patternshed start rushing, grabbing at everything, piling on more mistakes. Panic was rising: sticky, familiar, as if the air was thinning.
She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes just for a moment. For a rainy day, drifted into her thoughts like a hand on her shoulder.
Emma got up, picked her mug, and headed to the kitchennot because she wanted tea, but because she needed to break her posture, cut the loop.
She poured a glass from the water cooler, drained it. Then she set up the kettle, waited for it to boil, dropped a tea bag in her cup. She sat by the window, watching the courtyard between the office blocks. Two minutes. Simply two.
She took ten breaths: longer out than in. At the sixth, her shoulders lowered a touch. By the tenth, her heart was still racing, but not blaring like a siren.
Back at her desk, she pulled out her notebook. At the top she wrote: Now.
1. Find the latest version of the report.
2. Call the client and honestly say when itll be finished.
3. Sort the doctors note and mums tap.
Three steps. Not ten.
Emma checked the shared drives version history. The file hadnt been deletedit had been renamed. Yesterday shed added the date to the filename, missing the change in sorting. Emma opened the document, corrected a formula error, recalculated, saved.
Next, she phoned the client.
Good morning, its Emma, she said calmly. Yesterday a draft with a mistake went outIve fixed it now. Ill send the final version in forty minutes. Let me know if thats urgent, and Ill reprioritise.
A pause, then a sigh from the other end.
Forty minutes is fine. Thanks for letting us know.
Emma hung up, sensing a tiny island form inside hernot happiness or relief, just something firm to stand on.
Nexta call. One of three people. She found Jamess name. She dreaded another cant, but she needed practical help, not perfection.
James, hiquick one: school needs Harrys doctors note by noon. Its at home, hallway stand, under his diary. Can you swing by and drop it off?
Im all the way across London, he started.
Emma inhaled, fighting the urge to snap.
I get it. But if its not done, I have to leave work, which is worse. Could you ask someone onsite, or detour?
James paused.
Fine. Ill go home, pick it up, and drop it off. Just send me a photo so I know which note.
Thanks. Will do right now.
She photographed the note shed genuinely left out yesterday and sent it. Suddenly it clickeddelegation wasnt about heroics, but asking.
Mum and her tap. Emma texted the emergency plumbers number and a short guide: Valve under sink, turn right all the way. If stuck, use towel. If worried, call plumber, say your taps leaking and youre afraid youll flood. Then she rang.
Mum, I cant come right this minute, she said, softening her tone. But Ill stay on the line while you try.
My hands are shaking, mum confessed.
Well do it together. Where are you now?
In the kitchen.
Good. Open the cupboard under the sink, grab a towel. Wrap it round the valve and give it a try. Gentledont yank.
Emma listened to rustling, the basin clattering.
It turned! her mum said after a minute, surprised. Ohand the dripping stopped.
Brilliant. Dont use the tap until the plumber comes. Ill check on it tonight.
Sorry I bothered you, mum said.
You didnt bother me. You called at the right time, Emma answered, and was surprised to realise it was true.
She sent the reportforty minutes as promised. Her manager nodded, no smile, but no scolding either. Her colleague gave her a thumbs-up.
Youd think you could finally breathe out, yet inside the tremble remained, like a car braking hard. Emma knewif she simply pushed on, shed end up irritable by evening, snappy at home.
At lunch, she skipped the canteen. She grabbed her coat, phone, headphones, and stepped outside. Her walking route from the list: office to chemist through garden square, round the school, back. Not for medicine, but because the loop was familiar, contained, with no surprises.
She walked briskly, counting steps unconsciously, as if her body sought its own rhythm. At the chemist she bought plasters and some chamomile teaeven though she had plenty at home. Just to leave a physical trace: I took care.
On the way back, she paused near the schools fence, gazed at the windows. Somewhere inside Harry was doing his test. Emma felt the urge to textHows it going? She resisted. Let him focus.
That evening, James messaged: Dropped off the note. All sorted. Followed by a photonote in the security guards hand by the school foyer. Emma smiled, feeling one more knot loosen inside.
She got home late, tired but not drained. On the hall stand was Harrys diary, no sign of the noteproof James really had swung by, hadnt forgotten.
Harry sat in the kitchen, eating spaghetti.
Mum, I got a four on the test, he said as if it mattered most of all.
Well done. Emma patted his shoulder. Hows your knee?
Fine. I was just scared itd hurt again.
Emma nodded. She wanted to say, I was scared too, but it felt too much. She put the kettle on, opened the new chamomile tea, and dropped a bag into her mug.
James came in, taking off his shoes.
How was your day? he asked.
Emma felt the familiar urge to list her grievances, to show how tough it had been. But her list reminded: one honest sentence, no blame.
She set her mug on the table and said,
I was really thrown around today. I need you with me tonightno phone, just half an hour.
James looked at her more attentively than he had that morning.
All right. After dinner. Im tired but I can do that.
Thanks, Emma said, and realised it was neither concession nor victory. It was an agreement.
After dinner, they sat together in the living room. James put his phone face down. Harry went off to do his homework. Emma explainedreport, school call, mums tap. No drama, just a chain of events. James clarified a few bits, nodded, said, Yeah, its a lot. It was enough.
Later, Emma visited her mum. She brought a spanner and a new washer she’d bought at the hardware shop. Mum met her at the door, sheepish.
I kept thinking youd be annoyed, mum said.
I was annoyed, Emma replied honestly as she took off her coat. But not at you. At the feeling I can never do everything.
Together they opened the cupboard under the sink. The valve was shut, basin dry. Emma tightened the joint, replaced the washer. The leak stoppednot magic, just simple mechanics.
When Emma returned home, her folded list was still in the kitchen drawer. She took it out, read the steps. They didnt promise life would be smooth. They promised shed have things she could do when everything went sideways.
She added a new line at the bottom: 8. Ask for half an hour without phones. Next to it, she scribbled, Works.
She folded the paper again, put it in the drawer, and closed it. The day hadnt been perfect. But it was no longer a disasterand that was enough to go to sleep, knowing she could handle things again tomorrow.
