Where did you put the napkins? I told you to fetch those with the silver pattern, they match the tablecloth, Margaret said, without turning around, as she continued slicing lemon into thin, almost see-through rings.
Her husband, Edward, would usually be settled in front of the television by now, waiting for the New Years Eve programme to kick off. But tonight, he still hadnt come home. Margaret found herself muttering to the empty, cosy kitchenan old habit, especially on special nights like these. There were just three hours left until midnight. Her roast duck with Bramley applesher signature dishwas gently finishing in the oven, a recipe handed down for generations. Every surface sparkled, the Christmas tree flashed with colourful fairy lights, and Margaret felt that warm, expectant glow of upcoming magic that never truly disappeared, even after fifty years.
She wiped her hands on a tea towel and checked the clock. Edward was running late. Hed said he needed to stop by the office to fetch a forgotten present for her, and then hed vanished. Margaret smiled to herself, imagining he was out hunting for something really special. This year was their silver anniversarytwenty-five years together. Theyd decided to have a romantic New Years at home, just the two of them, no loud parties, no visiting children whod long since flown the nest.
The front door lock finally snicked open. Margaret pulled at her hair to set it right, whipped off her apron to reveal her smart velvet dress, and hurried out to greet her husband.
Ed, where have you?
She stopped, words caught in her throat. Edward stood in the doorway, but he wasnt alone. Next to him, shaking the snow from an expensive mink coat, was a much younger womanvivid, striking, her copper hair cascading around her shoulders, lips painted scarlet. She clutched a bag of clementines, while Edward, with a sheepish but oddly cheery grin, held a bottle of champagne.
Mags! Time for festive guests! he announced, his voice far too hearty for their quiet hallway. Meet Eleanor. Eleanor Smith, our new head accountant at work.
Margaret froze, her heart turning cold. She looked from her husband to this guest, and back again.
Good evening, she managed. Were we expecting company?
Not a trace of embarrassment. Eleanor, glossy and poised, shot out a gloved hand.
Oh, Margaret! Hello! You wont believe the state of things. Like something out of a sitcom! Edwardoh, Mr Carter, really saved the day. Im honestly so grateful!
Edward bent to tug off his shoes, avoiding his wifes gaze.
Love, you see, its complicated, he rattled off, peeking into the kitchen. I ran into Eleanor in the officeshe was in tears, bless her. Burst pipe at her flat, whole place flooded, powers out, freezing cold, repairman cant come until the third. Shes got no family nearbyalone for New Years. I mean, what could I do, leave her at Kings Cross all night? So I said, Come round ours, Margaret wont see you go hungry.
Margaret listened, her little safe world slipping away. Twenty-five years. A romantic evening. The candles arranged on the table. And now this surprise in fur and lipstick.
Come in, she said, tone clipped and unfamiliar. Since youre here.
Eleanor breezed in, her heavy, sugary perfume instantly overpowering the warm scent of roast duck and pine.
Oh, what a lovely place! she exclaimed, giving the room a brazen once-over. Such retro vibes. My Nan had a dresser just like that. So nostalgiclike some National Trust house.
Margaret gritted her teeth. The dresser was Italian, pure oak, cost a fortune just five years ago. She wasnt about to explain that to someone young enough to be her daughter.
Ed, help Eleanor with her coat, Margaret snapped, marching off to the kitchen, hands shaking.
Edward trailed after a moment later, looking battered but stubborn.
Mags, please, dont start. Where was she supposed to go? Be humanits New Years, all about kindness. Shell sit down, eat and drink, Ill order a taxi, or she can kip on the sofano fuss.
On the sofa? Margaret turned, gripping the ladle tight. Are you joking, Ed? We planned to spend this night together. And you drag in a strangerone who insults my home the moment she walks in. National Trust, really?
She doesnt mean it nastilyshes just, well, direct. Mags, please! Dont embarrass me at work. If word gets out I left her on the street, Ill never hear the end of it.
She stared at him, not recognising the man shed built this life withnow he just looked like an aged schoolboy, trying to impress a young colleague at his wifes expense.
Fine, she said at last. Let her sit. But if she says another word about my house
She wont! Promise! Edward tried to kiss her, but Margaret wouldnt have it.
Go, entertain your straightforwardness. Ill lay another place at the table.
Dinner began in heavy silence. Margaret laid out plates in silence. Stripped of her coat, Eleanor revealed a skin-tight dress with a low neckline, hardly fit for a home-cooked meal. She draped herself over the chair, wineglass twirling between her fingers.
Ed, will you pop the champagne now? she purred, fixing Edward with a smouldering look. Just to bid farewell to this old year. Im simply parched.
Ed, Margaret almost dropped the salad bowl. Here, we only open the champagne at the stroke of midnight. For now, have some cranberry cordial. Homemade.
Eleanor pouted.
Cordial? How quaint! I avoid sugary drinkswatching my shape. Got any brut? Sweet stuffs for those who havent quite grown up, they say.
Edward leapt up. Ive got excellent cognac! Fancy some, Eleanor?
Well, just a touch, to warm up. Bit nippy in here. Saving on the heating?
Margaret sat opposite the pair, feeling uninvited in her own celebration. Edward performed like a peacock, filling Eleanors glass, passing her caviar, cracking stale jokes at which she laughed unnaturally loud.
And you, Margaret, dont work? Eleanor turned suddenly, sandwich halfway to her mouth.
I do, replied Margaret, cool and calm. Chief technologist at the biscuit factory.
Really? Eleanor lifted her pencilled eyebrows, genuinely shocked. You look so… domestic. Like the sort whos always in the kitchen, waiting for her man. Ed says youre marvellous with your hands, though he mentions theres not much to chat about anymoresame old routine. But your cakes are delish.
Silence crashed in, broken only by the ticking clock and the television.
I never said that! Ed coughed and spluttered into his cognac, face reddening. Eleanor, you must be confused.
Margaret placed her fork down. Inside, something snapped. So there it wasnothing to talk about, stuck in domesticity?
Go on, Eleanor, she said, voice icy. What else has Edward told you? Do share.
Realising her mistake, Eleanor tried to laugh it offand failed.
Oh, dont take offence! Men, honestly. Never satisfiedcrave a bit of spark. Ed at the Christmas do was such a starbest dancer on the floor. Did the samba with me, whole team cheered. He said, Never get that at home, wifes tired, feet hurt.
Margaret glanced down. Her feet never hurtuntil after three days cooking for this wretched New Years feast.
Edward sat, ashen. Disaster was unfolding and he hadnt a clue how to stop it.
Lets toast, eh? World peace and all that? he pleaded.
No, wait, Margaret said, still fixed on Eleanor. Tell me about the burst pipes at your flat?
Pipes? Eleanors eyes flicked about. Oh, yes! Water everywherehot geyser, the lot. Panicked, phoned EdMr Carter, I meantrue gent and all, unlike my ex.
Curious, Margaret mused. Minus five outside, yet you arrive flawless, hair immaculate, perfect manicure. No lingering whiff of damp or disaster. Only your salon perfumeand the whiff of another woman’s intentions.
Eleanor flushed scarlet.
How dare you! Im a guest! Edward, say something!
Edward shrank in his seat.
Look, Mags, maybe she changed
Quiet, Ed, Margaret said, calm and firm. She rose from the table. Twenty-five years I overlooked your little lapses. Your roving eye, your late nights. I thought we valued our family, thought we were close. But apparently, Im just a cook you cant talk to.
She strode to the window and flung back the curtain, watching fireworks scatter over the square in the dark.
Right, she turned. The shows over. Eleanor, kindly gather your clementines and go.
Eleanor started to protest but fell silent under Margarets glarethere was a steel there you couldnt mistake.
Edward! Youll let her throw me out tonight? Eleanor shriekedher last resort.
Drunk or desperate, Edward banged his palm on the table. Margaret! Enough of this hysteria. My home too. Eleanor stays. Well see New Years in togethernot like some
Go on, prompted Margaret.
Like witches! Edward barked.
Margaret nodded, unmoved. She fetched the holdall shed packed for Christmas presents and emptied its contents onto the floor.
Your home, you say? Fine. Im leaving. But lets be clear, Ed: this flat belongs to my family. Youre just listed on the lease. Come the second of January, as soon as the solicitors are open, Ill file for divorce and have you out. But tonight… tonight, both of you may leave.
What? Edward paled, instantly sobered. Mags, you cantwhere to?
To all the excitement. To your samba partners. Her flat needs a manly hand, right? Its dead boring herea National Trust relic.
Margaret, please! he pleaded, knocking back his chair. Im sorry, all right? Shell go. Lets just have the night
She barely looked at him. Hed been so quick to defend his fancy girl moments ago, and now he was snivelling.
No, Ed. The salads turnedlike our marriage. Get your things. Five minutes.
Eleanor, seeing the night was a total loss and wanting no part in a scandal, collected her things in silence.
Unhinged woman, she muttered, shrugging into her coat. Ed, Ill call myself a cab. Get home on your own. I dont need this gentleman with baggage.
The front door slammed. Her perfume and a lingering sourness were all she left behind.
Edward stood, the empty holdall limp in his hands.
Magsshes gone, all right? Lets try to forget it? The ducks getting cold.
Margaret went to the oven and pulled out the roast duck, fragrant with cinnamon and apples. Her stomach twisted.
Forget? You brought your lover hereon our silver anniversary. Chatted about me behind my back. Let her belittle me in my own kitchen.
She picked up the dish. Heavy, ceramic. Solid.
Ed, leave. Im not jokingif you dont, Ill call the police. Tell them youre drunk and threatening. And believe metheyll believe me.
Edward saw in that moment that she meant it. Something fierce and unstoppable shone from the homely woman hed always taken for granted.
He slunk off to the bedroom, banging around, throwing clothes into a bag, then shuffled out, hurriedly dressed, a shirt sleeve dangling stupidly.
Youll regret this, Margaret! he shouted from the hall. Youll end up on your own! Whod want you at fifty?
Myself, she replied, and shut the door. The lock clicked. Twice.
Silence. Blessed, absolute silence. Margaret slid down with her back to the door. She expected tears, but felt nonejust an odd, refreshing emptiness, as if old, heavy furniture had finally been carried out of the room, leaving nothing behind but space.
She picked herself up and returned to the kitchen. The table was laid for threesalads, caviar, duck. It all looked like leftovers from a cancelled show.
Margaret took Eleanors platea half-eaten sandwich smeared with red lipstickand dumped it in the bin. The crash of breaking china was music to her ears.
Edwards plate. Same fate. Crash.
She cleared away the third setting, leaving only her favourite china plate with the gold rim. She poured herself a cheeky, tall glass of ice-cold champagne.
On television, the Prime Minister was beginning his speech. The chimes were just about to usher in a new yeara year that had stolen her illusions, but restored her dignity.
Happy New Year, Margaret, she told her reflection in the midnight-black window.
She carved off a crispy duck leg for herself, spooned out just the right helping of well-marinated salad.
Her phone pingeda message from her daughter, Charlotte: Happy New Year, Mum! We both love you! Hope to visit with the grandkids soon!
Margaret smiled. Real life hadnt gone anywhere. Children, grandkids, her job, her beloved home. Whatever else had dropped awayit was only rot, weighing down her life.
She sipped her champagne, bubbles tickling her nose, andfor the first time in yearsrelaxed, not fussing, not serving, not worrying about anyones glass but her own. Just enjoying the moment.
Next door, neighbours cheered and sent up fireworks. London celebrated, and so did Margaret. She celebrated her freedom.
An hour later, she packed up all the untouched foodtomorrow shed bring it to the concierge Mrs Parker and Roger the caretaker. Good people who deserved a treat.
And the duck well, shed finish it herself. Shed earned it.
Before bed, Margaret washed off her makeup, stared in the mirror. A beautiful, elegant woman gazed back, eyes a little sad but unmistakably alive. No old lady in curlers here.
Wanted more excitement, did you, Ed? she murmured. Well, youll have it now. Find a flat, sort the lawyers, explain everything to the kids.
She spread herself across the king-sized bed, luxuriating in the space shed always had to share with a snoring husband. The sheets smelled of lavender and fresh air.
The morning woke her with sunlight. For the first time, her first thought wasnt Whats for Edwards breakfast? It was, I fancy a coffee and cake at that new café round the corner. And it was a wonderful thought.
She didnt know what would come next. Thered be a divorce, difficult conversations, the business of splitting up things. That could wait. Today was hersquiet, delicious, and peaceful. And no-one would ever call her home a museum, or her life boring, again.
