Oh Harry, please! I honestly havent a clue what to dothe waters gushing everywhere, Ill flood the neighbours, and you know full well what the woman downstairs is likeshell have my head for this! My hands are shaking, I cant even find the stopcock! The pleading voice on the other end of my wifes phone was so shrill that I could hear every word despite not having the speaker turned on.
Samantha placed her fork down slowly onto the plate. The clink of metal on porcelain in our cosy kitchen was like a gong signalling the start of yet another round in this fight, a battle wed been staging for years. I sat opposite, nibbling my lip, glancing between the now-lukewarm casserole Sam had spent ages making and my glowing phone screen.
Emily, calm down, I muttered into the phone. Which stopcock? Is it the one under the sink or near the loo? Turn off the main valve.
I dont know where that is! Harry, please come over, Im beggingIm scared! What if its scalding hot? Im here on my own, I really cant
I looked up and met my wifes eyes. She knew that look: mingled guilt and helplessness. Shed seen it all too often lately.
You can hear her, Sam, cant you? Shell end up flooding the place. Emilys hopeless with this sort of thing, like a childhonestly, Ive got to go.
Of course you do, Samantha replied flatly, masking her inner turmoil. After all, its not as if its our anniversary, or like wed planned this evening for weeks, or I spent half the day over the stove cooking. Go ahead, Harry. Be Emilys knight in shining armour. She simply couldnt manage without you.
Dont start, please? I muttered, a little desperately, snatching up my car keys. Shes a friend, someones in trouble. Ill be back in a flash, just need to replace a washer or something. Pop the casserole in the oven, keep it warm for us.
With a bang, the front door showed my exit, and Sam was left alone with the aroma of a special dinner and the bitter taste of disappointment. As I pulled away into the night, she watched from the window.
Emily. That name had become the third wheel in our marriage. Old schoolmate, one of the ladsevery way Id ever described her. Shed turned up after her own messy divorce and gradually settled into our lives. At first, shed only ask for the odd favour: giving her a lift, looking at her computer. Me being metoo soft-hearted, good at DIYI always helped.
But as the months wore on, her requests turned into full-blown emergencies: a flat tyre on the A3, her bathroom shelf collapsing, needing help to assemble a wardrobe because clothes are everywhere, I can barely live. Every time, shed call just as Sam and I had plans.
Samantha isnt the jealous or dramatic type. She gets that friends need help. But her instinctsthose finely tuned female oneskept whispering that this wasnt just about leaky taps. Emily was no wallflower: always done up immaculately, casting longing looks, and talking to men as if they were Greek gods. Shed play the helpless damsel to perfection, eager for me to swoop in and fix everything, and Iwell, I liked being her hero.
Sam packed away dinner; appetite gone. When I eventually returnedthree hours later, covered in grime but chuffed with myselfI boasted about averting disaster.
The pipe nearly burst, I said, had to dash to the 24-hour B&Q for a gasket. Poor Em was in bits, swigging Rescue Remedy by the end.
At least she made tea for her saviour? Sam asked, not looking up from her book.
Tea, and even a homemade apple tart. She said to say sorry for disrupting the evening.
Apple tart? Sam thought. So while the water was supposed to be gushing everywhere and she couldnt find the stopcock, she was baking? She didnt say a word, though. Starting an argument would do no good; Id only accuse her of being hard-hearted and unreasonably jealous. She clearly had a plan of her own: next time, she decided, shed come along.
Next time came sooner than anyone would like. It was a Saturday morning, perfectly sunny for May. Wed packed for the cottage and had marinated kebabs chillin in the back, ready to head out for a long-awaited weekend together.
As I loaded the charcoal sack into the car, my mobile rang. The special ringtoneset for Emilyset Sam on edge in an instant.
Em? Whats sparking? Are you sure? Burning smell? Dont touch it! Turn all the plugs off at the fuse box! Yes, Im on my way.
I hung up, shuffling awkwardly as Sam stood at the gate, petunias in hand.
Trouble with the electrics, I take it? she said, arching an eyebrow.
Worsemain fuse boxs sparking, she reckons itll catch fire. Councils lot wont come on weekends, sparkies charge an arm and a leg and take ages.
So no cottage, then? she replied, setting the seed tray down lightly.
Well, not necessarilywe can nip over to Emilys first, Ill see if its a quick fix, if not Ill phone in an emergency. Hardly out of the way. An hour at most.
Fine, she nodded. Im coming too.
I was caught off guard.
Why? Electric works hardly in your wheelhouse. Just wait here, Ill be back in no time at all.
No, Harry. Were going to the cottage together. Well stop by Emilys, youll do the job, and then well go. Im not waiting around all daynot after the week weve had. Besides, I havent seen Emily in ages.
I gritted my teeth but couldnt argue. The journey was thick with nervesmy drumming fingers on the wheel the only sound. Sam seemed calm, but I could tell she was tightly strung.
Emily met us draped in a silky gownthe sort that barely covers your kneeswith full make-up and the air of a put-upon heroine. The sight of Sam stepping out of the car made her falter ever so slightly before she fixed a dazzling smile on her face.
Oh Sam! What a lovely surprise! Forgive my state, Im a messabsolutely all over the place! she tossed her perfect hair. Do come in. Harry, youre a lifesaverits all buzzing and humming in the hallway!
We went inside. There was a faint scent of scorched plastic, but nothing like what Id expected. I got straight to work, poking about the old fuse box, screwdriver and tester in hand.
Sam, dont just stand therecome through to the kitchen! Coffee and a good chinwag while Harry sorts it! Emily sang, eager to shepherd Sam away.
Ill stay put, thanks. Never know, Harry might need a hand or someone to hold the torch.
A torch? Emily giggled. Oh you! Harry could change a plug blindfolded, cant you, Harry?
I grunted, playing with the wiring.
Emily, Sam said, staring right at her, any reason you didnt call the council out-of-hours electrician? Electricitys dangerous, you know.
Heavens no! They’re uselessalways stomping mud everywhere and grumbling. Harrys trusty, golden handshes the only one I trust.
My husbands golden hands, said Sam, pointedly. Were meant to be turning kebabs on a barbecue today.
Oh, Im so sorryI ruin everything, dont I! Emily put her hands together dramatically. Lifes impossible without a man about. Must be nice, Sam, always having someone to lean on.
From there, the outcome was predictable. I fixed the dodgy wire in twenty minutes and told Emily shed need a new breaker, scribbling down the model for her.
Harry, would you pick one up? Fit it for me? Ill pay you for it. Please?
Harrys busy next weekend, Sam answered tightly. Call a proper electrician. Harrys notes will help.
Emily barely hid her glare but switched tack at once.
At least have coffee! Ive bought your favourite éclairs, Harry!
No, were full, Sam cut her off, linking her arm with mine. Weve a busy day.
As we left, I tried to defend Emily.
Sam, did you have to be like that? Shes just grateful.
Shes not after your help, shes after your attention. Cant you see it? That dressing gown, the flirty glances, calling only at the most inconvenient times.
Oh come off it, were old friends. Shes like a sister to me.
A very convenient sister, who gets repairs and strokes her ego as well.
We made for the cottage in the end, but the mood had soured. Sam knew Emily wouldnt back off so easily. She relished the power to summon someone elses husband with a quick phone call.
The final straw came two weeks later while I was on a work trip. I rang Sam on Friday, looking forward to dinner and coming home.
Listen, Sam, Ill be late. Im nearly back, but Emily just calledapparently its an emergency.
What this time? her tone was ice. Did a meteor land on her balcony?
No, she bought a new curtain rod; tried to put it up herself and dropped it on her foot. Says she cant walk on it. The rods blocking the living room and she needs out for ointment at the chemist. Ill swing by quickly, help out.
Sam breathed deeply.
Harry, go home. Ill go to hers.
You? Why?
I know which ointment will work and I can help with her foot. You must be knackered. Warm up dinner, Ill be half an hour.
Okay Just dont argue with her, alright? Shes pretty shaken.
Sam hung up and got to work. What she did next was nothing short of genius.
She googled Handyman Service, found the best-rated, toughest-looking bloke. She ordered painkillers and bandages from the pharmacy to Emilys address. Then got in the car and drove over.
At Emilys building, she intercepted the delivery guy. Emily, thinking I was coming, had left the door ajar. Sam walked right in.
Candles burned in the gloom, a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. Emily reclined in her dressing gown, foot up. The rod in question lay across the floor; rather strategically placed.
Hearing footsteps, Emily called out in breathy tones,
Harry, is that you? Did you get the ointment?
Sam flicked on the main light, banishing the soft, seductive glow. Emily nearly leapt up, forgetting to limp.
Sam?! What are youwheres Harry?!
Home, eating. Ive brought your things. And a bit of proper help.
I needed Harryhes strong, he could hang the rod!
The handyman will manage that, Sam said.
The bell rang; in walked a burly chap in overalls.
Handymanhere to hang a curtain rod?
Yes, Sam replied. The lady of the house will show you.
Emily glared at Sam, indignant.
Why have you done this? she hissed as the drill whined in the background.
Im helping. You asked for help. Here it is: medicine and a professional. Harrys busyhe needs to be with his wife. Was it really a curtain rod you wanted fixed, or something else?
Emily stood up, entirely unhurt.
Get out! she snapped. Youre such a saint, arent you? Harryll soon lose his mind with someone as dull as you. He wants fun and ease. Youre a bore.
Perhaps, Sam shrugged. But my husband comes home to me. Its sad, Emily, that you dream up these little emergencies to get him here. There are plenty of single men out there with tools. Time you found one.
Get out! Emily shrieked, as the handyman drilled away.
He’ll be done in twenty minutes. All settled. Look after that foot, now.
Sam walked out feeling unburdened. No screaming rows, no catty hair-pulling. Just the truth in plain sight.
When she came home, I was waiting, chewed up with worry.
Well? Was the injury bad? I tried to call her, but she didnt answer.
Sam sat, poured herself a tea, and looked right at me.
Her foots fine, Harry. She could run marathons. I arranged for the rod to be put up by a professional and paid for the lot.
But I couldve done that.
Sam gestured for me to sit.
Be honest, did you really not notice what was going on? Candles, wine, lacy dressing gown, always ringing when she knew I was out?
I blushed, studying my hands.
Maybe I suspected. Didnt want to really believe it, you know? Shes lonely, I felt bad saying no.
Harry, she played you. And in trying to make everyone happy, you ended up hurting our family. She wasnt after repairsshe was after you. Today proved that.
I was mortified. All those little momentsher lingering touches, the looks, the complimentsflooded back with fresh clarity.
Sorry, Sam. Ive been an idiot.
Maybe so. But a kind one. And I love you. But from now on, Emilys emergencies arent your job. Shes got a handymans number now. If she feels bored or lonely, she can ring someone else. Youre off the hook.
Deal, I said, meaning it. Thanks for sorting things. If Id seen those candles tonight, lord knows what Id have done.
Emily never called againnot in a week, not in a month. Her pride, or what there was left of it, wouldnt let her.
Six months later, Sam bumped into her at the shopping centre, dressed to the nines and arm-in-arm with a smart-looking man, loaded up with luxury bags. Emily raised her chin, huffed, and swept past as if they were strangers.
Sam just smiled to herself. She was honestly glad for Emily; finally, someone else could hang her curtain rods and fix her leaky taps. Our own home was silent at lastno more late-night save me, Harry phone calls, no more hijacked plans.
Now, evenings are peaceful. We chat over a cuppa, plan our next holiday, and know that if we say were off to the cottage, well make it there. Thats the thing; you have to stick up for your marriage, even when the threat wears a silk robe and a helpless smile.
Writing this all down, I realise: friendship matters, but boundaries matter more. If Ive learned anything, its thisnever trade your familys happiness for someone elses neediness, no matter how convincing their emergencies might be.
