Right, so you know how everyone in the little village of Oakham was going on about poor Victor?
“Shameless, she is!”
“Poor bloke, left high and dry!”
“Took the daughter and ran, that snake!”
Everyone pitied him—neighbours, mates, even family. They all reckoned his wife had it made, living safe as houses, only to sneak off the moment their daughter finished school. Left him at 55, all alone! Or so they said. Truth was, no one knew the half of it. Behind it all were years of hurt, betrayal, and just fighting to keep afloat.
Sarah had married Victor for love. He was fifteen years older, but he’d left his first wife and son for her, even gave up his share of the house. At first, he was perfect—attentive, strong, would do anything for her. But after their daughter Lily was born, things changed. Sarah was so wrapped up with the baby, she didn’t notice him pulling away. He dumped all the housework on her, then stopped bringing money home altogether.
When Lily started nursery, Sarah went back to work just to keep food on the table. Instead of helping, Victor turned their flat in Bradford into a right mess—mates round all hours, drinking while she worked. She nearly left then, but life had another blow coming. One of Victor’s mates fell asleep with a fag in hand, and the whole place went up in flames.
Thank God the neighbours were safe, but Sarah lost everything—home, clothes, any scrap of security. Standing there in the ashes with little Lily in her arms, she didn’t know where to go. Wanted to run then and there, but for Lily’s sake, she hung on. Borrowed a bit from a neighbour and got a cheap room for the night. Didn’t even worry about Victor—figured he’d land on his feet.
Next morning, he found her. Grinning like he’d solved everything, said they’d move in with his mum down in Oakham. To Sarah, it sounded like a nightmare—lose her job, pull Lily out of nursery, start over. But what choice did she have? No home, no money, a kid to look after. She swallowed her tears, prayed village life would straighten him out, make him quit the drink. Fat chance.
Oakham only made things worse. His mum was kind but blind to his faults—never said a word against him. Victor drank harder, vanished for days with his mates, while Sarah kept everything running. Did odd jobs—sewing, cleaning, selling bits at the market—pinching every penny. Sold the burnt flat for next to nothing, and every bit went on bills and clothes. She took the insults, kept quiet, clung to one thought: get Lily through school, then run.
Those years were hell. Victor never worked, lived off his mum and Sarah, while she felt like a prisoner. Hid her plans, knowing he’d never let her go. The day Lily got her GCSEs, Sarah packed their things and slipped away. Victor didn’t even notice for two days—too busy on another bender.
Then the village chatter started. Victor spun tales—Sarah had run off with some bloke, abandoned him when he was down. Neighbours called her every name, painted her as the villain, poor old Victor the victim. But Sarah didn’t care. She’d faked a happy marriage for Lily’s sake too long.
Lily didn’t blame her. She knew what her mum had been through. Met her dad a few times, but when he stopped giving her even a fiver here and there, that fizzled out. Now she doesn’t think about Oakham. She’s got Sarah’s back, knows her mum saved them both from that mess.
Sarah’s starting fresh—tiny flat, new job, making plans. For the first time in years, she breathes free. Let Oakham gossip, let Victor spin his tales. She’s out. Survived it, for Lily and herself. But sometimes, that old hurt flickers—how could someone she loved turn her life to rubbish? No regrets leaving, but now and then, she wonders—could it ever have been different?
