Im off, so you realise what youve lost! Spend a week on your own, howling at the moon without a man around maybe then youll learn to appreciate me! Sam grabbed a bundle of socks, flinging them into his battered holdall, nearly knocking my favourite vase off the shelf.
I just leaned on the doorframe, watching the melodrama. Inside, I was boiling with a mix of hurt and the urge to laugh. There he was, my thirty-year-old boy, standing smack in the middle of my paid for long before wed even met one-bedroom London flat, threatening me with his grand absence. He genuinely thought the walls would cave and Id shrivel away without his precious presence, like some neglected pothos plant.
And as usual, it all started with our Sunday visit to his mum, Karen. Now, my mother-in-law is a character: she could pay you a backhanded compliment sharp enough to make you want to hang yourself and gives advice in the tone of a colonel berating a squaddie for muddy boots.
Sam came back from Karens absolutely charged. I could tell at once: lips tight, eyes darting, already looking for dust.
Emma, why are these towels in the bathroom not grouped by colour? he started as soon as he stepped in, not even bothering with his shoes. Mum says it creates visual clutter and ruins the chi of the home.
I sighed.
Honestly, Sam, the closest your mums ever been to chi is watching Changing Rooms in the 90s. The towels are up for hand-wiping convenience, not for spiritual enlightenment I answered, calmly stirring my stew.
He looked like a petulant kid, stalked into the kitchen, and jabbed at the casserole lid.
Chunks of vegetables again? Mum says a proper wife ought to blend everything into a puree its easier for the man. Youre just being lazy.
Sam, your mum hasnt got a full set of teeth because she spent her dentist money on another china set. You have all your teeth. So just chew, will you.
Sam went beetroot, gearing up for another round of mum wisdom, then faltered.
You youre just ungrateful! he spat out. Mum is basically a domestic science expert, if you must know!
Sam, your mums been a receptionist at a student halls her entire career. She calls herself an expert because she likes the sound of it, I shot back, smile like ice.
He stood there like a stunned penguin, mouth open, eyes darting, brain scrambling for a comeback. After a shuddery sigh, he waved me off as if swatting a wasp. What a spectacle.
And then he made his drama-queen decision.
Thats it! Ive had enough of your attitude! he announced grandly, zipping up. Im off to Mums. For a week. You stay here, reflect on your behaviour. When I come back, I expect everything spotless and an apology. In writing!
And with a slam, he was gone.
The silence was odd empty, kind of raw. But mostly there was a surge of relief. Did he seriously leave my flat to punish me, thinking silence and comfort are torture? Genius.
But fate had plans for me that Sams tantrums could never match.
Monday morning, the boss calls me in.
Emma, bit of a crisis at the Bristol branch. Can you fly out tomorrow, three months, expenses doubled, bonus hefty enough for a brand-new car. Youre the only one I can count on he pleaded.
Suddenly I felt wings on my back. Three whole months! No Sam, no Karens constant calls, just me, the Bristol harbourside (even if its freezing), and a stonking good pay packet.
Im in, I blurted out.
Leaving the office, it struck me flat would be empty for months, yet bills roll in. Just then, my mate Lisa rings.
Emma, youre my lifeline! My sister, her hubby, and three mad kids just arrived from Essex, their flats being redone, hotels are extortionate. Theyre a noisy bunch, but theyll pay top-dollar up front!
And then a little devil-may-care scheme clicked in my brain.
Lisa, have them move in. Tomorrow. Ill leave keys with the concierge. Just one thing: if any man comes by mouthing off, show him the door.
That night, I packed my bag, boxed up anything valuable and left it at Mums, and prepped the place for tenants. Sam was ghosting my calls teaching me a lesson, was he.
Next morning, I was off, and at midday, the lively Thompson clan moved in: Dad Mike, Mum Sarah, their tribe of three giggly kids, and their enormous, friendly, but absurdly loud golden retriever named Duke.
A week ticked by.
Turns out, Sam lasted precisely seven blissful days with Karen. Rumour had it, Karens love is much sweeter from across town. Up close? Smothering.
Samuel, dont slurp your tea, nagged Karen at breakfast.
Samuel, thats too much flush! Water bills through the roof!
Sam, stop sitting like that, youll do your back in and end up like Uncle Derek, all hunched.
Sam finally cracked. He convinced himself Id spent the week pining and would beg him to come back. Clearly, it was time for his victorious homecoming.
He bought three limp carnations (forgiveness, apparently) and set off for my flat.
Putting his key in the lock, full of visions of my fear and gratitude, it jammed. Frowning, he rattled the handle. Nothing. He knocked.
Inside: stampede of footsteps, Dukes thunderous barking making the door rattle.
Whos there? a broad, unfamiliar voice called.
Sam recoiled.
Uh Im Sam. Husband. Let me in!
The door swung open. Enormous Mike loomed there in a vest, holding BBQ tongs (they were grilling kebabs on an electric grill). Duke panted at his feet.
What husband? Mike raised an eyebrow. Emmas gone. We live here. Proper tenants, mate. Paid up. Who are you?
I I own the place! Sam squeaked, losing it completely. Well, my wife does We live here!
Listen, pal, Mike grinned, tapping Sam on the shoulder with the tongs, leaving a greasy mark. Emma said: husbands away with his mum. Flats hers, spare. Off you pop, eh? Dont spoil our party. Sarah, pass the ketchup!
Door shut. Sam gaped.
Then my phone started blowing up. I was enjoying scallops and a glass of white, gazing over Bristol harbour.
Hello? I answered lazily.
What the hell have you done?! Sam was shrieking so loud I had to move the phone away. Who are these bloody squatters?! Why wont they let me in?! I come back and its like a circus in MY flat!
Sam, keep your voice down, I interrupted, ice-cold. Werent you the one who left? Only for a week, maybe forever, so Id learn my lesson? Well, I have. Its dull and expensive living alone, so I took tenants. For three months.
Three months?! he squeaked, voice cracking. Where am I supposed to live?!
With your mum! Feng shui towels, blended soups, total harmony. Im away. Wont be back for ages.
Ill get a solicitor! Ill call the police! He was spitting feathers.
Knock yourself out. Flats mine, names on the deeds, tenancy agreement is official, taxes paid. Youre not on the lease. Youre just a guest, Sam. An overstayed one at that.
He hung up. Predictably, Karen rang next. I picked up for the entertainment.
Emma! Karens voice was like glass shattering. What sort of wife boots her husband out onto the street? Its barbaric! Marriage means a hot meal and a roof for the man!
Karen, I purred, marriage law in this country says equal rights. Deeds say my name only. Your son taught me a lesson by flouncing off turns out I learnt brilliantly. Outperformed the teacher.
You you cold-blooded, greedy cow! Karen spluttered. A man needs space! Youre breaking up a family! Ill go to my union!
Go to the Lottery for all I care, I laughed. By the way, Karen, you always said Sam was a gem now you keep him. Dont forget to puree his dinner, his chewings only got worse.
She fizzed and gurgled down the line, then hung up so abruptly it sounded like my old fax when it ate the paper.
Three months whooshed by. When I got back, with a new haircut, a bundle of cash, and crystal-clear priorities, my flat greeted me sparkling clean Mike and Sarah even fixed the leaky tap that Sam had meant to sort for a year.
Two hours after my return, Sam turned up, a sorry sight skinnier, pale, creased shirt, looking ten years older after three months with his dear mum.
Emma, he mumbled, staring at the floor. Come on, lets start fresh. I get it now. Mum was a bit much. Ive brought my things back.
He moved to step inside.
I blocked the way with my suitcase.
Sam, I dont think so. You wanted me to value a man around the house? Well I did. Mike fixed the tap in half an hour. You moaned for twelve months.
But Im your husband! he pleaded, with the look of a child being booted out of the playground.
You were. Now youre just baggage, I replied. Your stuffs with the concierge downstairs. Keys, please.
You wouldnt dare! He tried to go into rage mode. Ill sue for half the refit!
Sam, my dad did the refit. Got the receipts. All you did was whinge and point at wallpaper samples, I smiled right at him. Curtains down, interval over, audience long gone.
He stood there, blinking like mad, mind whirring, realising his master-plan to teach me a lesson had become a disaster class of his own.
I locked the door. That sound was the starting pistol for my new life.
Word is, Sam still lives with Karen. Friends say she controls not just his dinners, but his bedtime and phone calls too. He walks hunched now, eyes on the floor, terrified of stepping on one of his mums emotional tripwires.
