Where are you putting that vase? Emily asked, pressing her lips together to keep her temper in check. I asked you to put it away in the cupboard. It doesnt go with the dinner set at all. As she spoke, she fussed with her apron, watching her husband, Tom, shuffle a crystal salad bowl from one end of the table to the other with a lost look.
Em, does it really matter? He gave her that sheepish, apologetic smile of his, which grated her nerves more than usual. Sarah always liked that vase, said it made the table look festive with the salad. Since were all together tonight, for the boys, wouldnt it be nice for everyone to feel at home?
Emily paused, knife mid-air over half-diced cucumber. She breathed out slowly, counting to three before replying.
Tom, she said, her voice dangerously calm, let me clarify something. Were hosting this party in my house. I, your wife, have been preparing for two days straight. Ive marinated the meat, baked the cake, scrubbed the floors. And now you want me to set the table with that tacky vase because your ex-wife likes it? Am I supposed to dress up in her favourite frock, too? Or do my hair the way she used to?
Tom slumped onto a chair, weighed down by the situation.
Em, please dont start. Weve agreed about this. Its the twins big birthday twenty now. They wanted both parents here. What was I meant to do, tell Sarah not to come? Shes their mum. Its just one evening. Well have cake, celebrate, and thats that. I just want a peaceful day. No rows. Youre wise, Em.
Wise, Emily repeated inwardly, that word like a splinter under her skin. It usually meant convenientthe woman who stays quiet, bends, pretends everythings fine while others walk all over her.
Five years of marriage, and Emily accepted Toms past, his child support, the constant trips to see the twins, Jack and Sam. She never got in the way. The boys came by often and things remained friendly. But Sarah Sarah was another matter altogether. Loud, domineering, acting as if Tom was still hers, just loaned out to someone else for now.
Im fine with Jack and Sam, Emily said. And Ive made my peace with you inviting Sarah tonight, even though normal people would go to a restaurant rather than drag their ex into their current home. But why should I arrange the table for her taste? Shall I ask her advice on the curtains, too?
Youre making too much of this, Tom said, standing to put the vase away. Fine, Ill sort it. Dont sulk. The lads will be here in an hour, Sarah with them. Her cars still in the garage, so theyre giving her a lift. Lets just be civil, okay? For tonight.
He gave her a quick, routine kiss on the cheek and disappeared to shave. Emily was left alone in her fussy, overcrowded kitchen. Pork roasted in the oven, mushrooms simmered on the stove. Everything smelt lovely, but her appetite had dried up. It felt as if she was laying out a wake for her own dignity.
An hour later, laughter and voices filled the hallway.
Wheres our daddy, then? That shrill, unmistakable voice echoed. Sarah swept in, red dress much too tight, hair lacquered glossy and unmoving.
Oh, hello Emily, she threw out casually, not meeting her eyes, already spotting Tom. We brought presents! Tom, lend your mum a hand with these bags, would you? Pickles and jams!
Tom dashed out, beaming.
Alright, lads! Happy birthday! He hugged his sons, clapping their backs. Hi, Sarah. Whats with all the pickles? Were swimming in food.
Oh, I know your buffets too well, Sarah winked, barely acknowledging Emily. Emily must have made everything healthy again, no salt, no fat? The boys need a proper meal. I brought my homemade pickles, tomatoes, mushrooms, and traditional jellied meatnot that chicken jelly you served last time.
Emily felt heat bloom in her cheeks. Last time, Sarah had picked apart everything, from the food to the furnishings.
Evening, Sarah, Emily managed coolly. Come in. Theres plenty for all. And the jellied meat is proper beef, crystal clear.
Well see, Sarah sniffed, barging into the lounge without waiting for an invite. Oh, you still havent changed this sofa, Tom? I told you ages ago, this colours dreadful. Ages the room. And the curtains gloomy really. Remember our old flat, always so light with those voile drapes?
Tom trailed along, carrying her bags.
Sarah, I like it here. Its cosy.
Cosy is when your soul sings. This is more like a crypt, Sarah announced, flopping down on the apparently offensive sofa. Boys, go wash your hands! Emily, what are you standing around for? Start serving, the men are hungry.
Emily squeezed her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. Stay calm, she told herself, just for Tom. For the boys.
She started setting out the food. Tom appeared, whispering as he grabbed plates.
Dont be upset with Sarah, he said. You know what shes likebossy by nature, not malicious. Let me help with the salads.
Ill manage, Emily replied sharply.
Dinner began awkwardly. Sarah sat right next to Tom, pulling his chair so close their arms touched. The twins sat opposite. Emily ended up at the edge, like the invisible help.
A toast to my boys! Tom proclaimed, raising his glass. Twenty years, gone in a blink!
Oh Tom, you remember driving me to hospital the night they were born? Black ice everywhere, car wouldnt start, you sprinting around in your shirtall nerves and no clue! Sarah burst out laughing, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He smiled sheepishly, swept up in her stories.
We were so young he murmured.
Remember when Sam first fell into a puddle in his new suit? On our way to your mums birthday party. You scooped him up, bawling, covered in mud! We rinsed him under the fountain, didnt we?
Memory after memoryall from their years together. Remember our holiday in Dorset?, Remember wallpapering the flat?, Remember your broken leg and I spoon-fed you?
Emily quietly shifted her salad around, feeling invisible. The boys, glued to phones, mumbled now and again to their mum. Tom, mellow from wine and nostalgia, didnt seem to notice Emily at his side.
Emily, pass the bread, Sarah called, nattering on about Tom teaching her to drive. Hes yelling brake!, I hit the gasalmost took out the fence! Oh Tom, you went half-grey that day!
Thats true, Tom chuckled. You were always a speed demon.
You were mine, Emily heard. Like a gunshot.
She looked at Tom. He hadnt realised what hed saidjust gazing at Sarah, sentimental. Of course, Sarah reminded him of youth, of when life seemed simpler.
The salads over-salted, Sarah announced, forking up a bite. Feeling romantic, Emily? They say you salt things extra when youre in lovebut with your own husband, ha! Tom, try my jellied meata real treat! Loads of garlic, just how you like it.
She leaned across, dropping a piece onto Toms plate, over Emilys mushrooms.
Sarah, please move your hand, Emily quietly said.
What? Sarah froze. Why so touchy?
Move your hand away from my husbands plate. Take your jellied meat with you. Theres more than enough food Ive prepared here.
Silence fell. The twins looked up. Tom blinked in alarm.
Emily, its fine, come on. Its tasty
Oh, tasty is it? Emily stood, scraping her chair loudly across the floor. So you prefer what Sarah makes? You enjoy reminiscing about your old life? You like another woman criticising the furniture, the food, your wife in your own home?
Oh for heavens sake, Sarah scoffed. Sensitive, are we? I only want the best, giving advice.
I dont need your advice, Sarah. Or your company. I put up with you for Tom, for the boys. But I see you all get on perfectly well without meyour little family table, old jokes, our car, our holiday Im just the waitress, dishing up at the sidelines.
Em, stop it, Tom tried to grab her hand, but she withdrew. We were just talking
Keep talking, then. I wont trouble you.
Emily left the lounge. Sarahs voice hissed after her, Drama queen. Told you, Tom, shes all wrong for you. Puts on airs.
In the bedroom, Emilys hands shook but her mind felt clear. She grabbed a small overnight bag, packed toiletries, fresh clothes, pyjamas, tablet. She changed from her dressridiculous for the occasioninto jeans and a jumper.
She booked a taxi. Seven minutes wait.
Putting on her coat and boots, she paused in the hallway. Laughter still drifted from the loungeSarahs high gossip, Toms chuckle. Shed gone unmissed. They probably thought shed return after sulking.
Emily stepped into the doorway.
Im leaving, she said, loudly and firmly.
Everyone fell silent. Tom turned, still holding a glass.
What, popping to the shops? Bread gone?
No, Tom. Im going to a hotel. Consider this a holiday for me, tooa celebration of freedom from rudeness and disrespect. You lot are having a grand old time in your reunion. Enjoy. The fridges full, cakes out on the balcony. The dishwashers ready, tabs under the sink. I hope Sarah shows off her skills at cleaning up as well as eating.
Are you mad? Tom shot up, knocking his glass overspilt gin soaking into the tablecloth. What hotel? Its late! The guests
Theyre your guests, Tom. Not mine. Have a nice evening. Happy birthday, boys.
She closed the door behind her, shutting out Toms protests and Sarahs squawking.
In the taxi, she watched city lights flick past, before calling up a luxury hotel.
Good evening. Is a suite or deluxe room available? Wonderful. Ill be there in twenty minutes. Would you arrange a bottle of champagne and a fruit bowl in the room? And book me the earliest massage for tomorrow morning, please.
The hotel was tranquil, fragrant with expensive perfumeno fried onions, no cutlery clatter, no loud voices. The room welcomed her with crisp linens and cool space.
Emily showered, washing away the evenings misery, wrapped herself in a soft robe, and poured a glass of cold bubbly. Out on the balcony, the city glowed beneath herbright, indifferent.
Her phone vibrated in the cab, but shed switched off sound. She checked the screen nowfifteen missed calls from Tom. Three texts.
What are you playing at?
Come home now, this is embarrassing!
Emily, this isnt funny. Sarahs shocked.
Emily smirked and turned her phone off. She sipped champagne, feeling truly free for the first time in years. No more worries about meat, TV volume, or Toms moods. Alone, and it felt wonderful.
The next morning, sunlight woke her. She stretched, ordered breakfast in bedeggs Benedict, croissants, and coffee. After a spa session and a swim, she extended her stay. No desire to return home just yet.
She switched her mobile on by late afternoon. More texts, the tone changed.
Emily, where are you? Im worried.
The boys left straight after you. Said we were ridiculous.
Sarah went home last night. We argued.
Please, answer.
Emily rang Tom.
Emily! Thank God youre alright, where have you been? Toms voice trembled.
Im at the hotel, Tom. Relaxing.
Im sorry, he gulped. I was an idiot. Ruined everything.
Go on, Emily replied evenly. How did your family reunion finish?
Awful. Truly awful. After you left, Sam stood up and said, You parents are a joke. Mums a loudmouth, Dads a doormat. Emilys decent, but you drove her out. Then he and Jack walked out the door, didnt even try the cake.
A small, satisfied smile tugged at Emilys lips.
And then?
Sarah started yellingthe boys were ungrateful, youd turned them against her. Then she barked at me to clear the table. I told her to help out if she felt so in charge. She screeched, broke a platethe special one from your mums set
Sarah smashed Mums plate? Emilys voice turned icy.
Yes It was an accident, she was waving her hands. I lost it, Emily. Told her to call a cab and leave. We had a blazing row. She brought up my salary from twenty years ago, my mum, everything. I sent her packing.
Tom paused, breathing heavily.
Im here, alone, with dirty dishes. Havent touched a thing. Couldnt. Emily, please come back. I get it now, I was a fool. No more exes here, ever. I promise.
Dishes still dirty? Emily confirmed.
Everythings exactly how you left it.
Good. Youve got until tomorrow morning to make that flat spotless. No trace of Sarah. No pickles, no jellied meat, nothing. Bin it. If I smell her perfume or find a crumb, Ill walk outand this time for good. Got it?
I understand, Em. Ill do it all. Just please come home. I love you. I genuinely wanted the best
The best only happens when you keep your head and stop trying to please everyone, Emily said sternly. Ill be home for lunch tomorrow. And Tom, if you ever let anyone criticise me under my roof again, I wont just leave for a hotelIll leave for good.
She hung up. The city lights glimmered outside. Emily drained her coffee. She felt a pang of pity for Tom, so eager to be the perfect father, so weak at heart. But she felt sorrier for herself, for years of putting up with it.
She wouldnt put up with it anymore. That little hotel escape switched something inside her. She realised she had every right to lead her own lifenot as someone wise and convenient, but as the main character.
The next day, she returned home. The flat smelt of lemons and cleaning spray. Windows flung wide, every trace of the previous night aired away. Tom greeted her, red-eyed and hands raw.
I cleared everything, he reported, sounding chastened. Even washed the curtainsthought they smelt of hair spray.
Emily checked the kitchenperfectly clean, no jars, no controversial vase, nothing out of place.
And the vase? she asked.
Chucked it, Tom muttered. Along with that jellied meat. Dont want them in the house.
Emily looked him over, considered, then took off her coat.
Put the kettle on, she said. We have cake left I hope? You didnt bin that in a fit of righteousness?
Tom sighed in relief and hugged her, face buried in her shoulder.
I saved the cake. Its delicious. Had a slice last night, feeling sorry for myself. Emily, youre the best. Forgive me.
Alright, Tom. But that was the last time. Ever.
They sat, sipping tea. Emily watched Tom and thought: sometimes, to save a marriage, you have to leave it. At least for a few days. Sometimes, an empty seat at the dinner table says more than a hundred words.
