Fred, Fred? Hows work treating you? Everything alright?
Fine. Same as always.
Fred, love, come have dinner! I made your favourite, shepherds pie. Come on, eh?
Not hungry.
Fred, please, I waited for you. Wont sit without you.
Listen, Annie, why dyou cling like this? Like ivy on a wall, I swear! Always under my feet. Cant you eat without me? Lost the knack?
Fred, dont shout, eh?
Ugh! Sick of hearing it! Dont you tire of it, Annie? All this fussingyou smother me. Cant breathe with you around. Stifling, it is. Had enough. Not living, just enduring. Your Fred, Fred!how many times must I say? I hear you the first time!
Fred, love. Have a pint, ease up. Youre worn out.
Annie guiltily twisted her apron, eyes downcast.
Daft or playing daft? Still in that apron! Theres another, see? Another womanI love her, breathe for her! Im leaving, Annie.
Leaving? Thought it through? Dont mistake softness for weakness. You know me. Walk away, but know thisno coming back. Think shell want you? Easy, is it, watching you with her? Think its easy sitting across the table, knowing? Think hard, Fredlove that strong, to wreck a family in a heartbeat?
Wont be back. Dont wait.
Fred stomped to the bedroom, boots leaving grime on the handwoven rugs. He stuffed a duffel, glanced round, and left without a word. Crossing the village, his mind churned.
Twenty years together, a son in the armygood lad, though distant. Howd he take the split? Old enough to understand. Burned out, nothing left, not even respect. Her Fred, Fred!she knew. Yet stayed quiet, eyes glinting reproach. Othersd scream, scratchher? Silence. And this old-fashioned rubbishgone barmy. Decided she needed a rustic kitchen, copper kettle, rag rugs. Scoured the village for them, ripped up flooring like a daft hen.
Stelladifferent. Name says it all. Steel in her, yet young enough to be his daughter. Near the boys age. Couldve been his daughter-in-law, but nowife instead. With her, he felt young again. No pies, no stews, no bloody rugs. Modern, she wasbright cabinets, smart clothes, figure kept tight. Annie? Let herself go, a barge drifting. Always underfoot, pleasing, pandering. Shouldve left sooner.
***
Annie sat on the kitchen floor, staring at muddy boot prints on her rugs, weeping soundlessly. He never understood. The rugs, the kettleshed hoped, hoped! Like a fool. And these printsdirty knives through her soul.
She ripped up the rugs. Who needed them? He remembered nothing. That hussybarely older than their son. Swung back to the village, all flash and youth. Wriggled into the council officespecialist, they called her. Two years, top economist. Chairman sweet on her, carrying on. But he stayed with his wifeflings one thing, wrecking homes another. Fred? Led like a lamb. But would she want him? Vets wages barely stretch. His choiceno way back.
***
She remembered their first yearyoung, skint, but happy. Spuds in the store? Feast enough. Evenings by the bonfire, sharing charred potatoes, faces smeared black. Laughing.
Shed turned their cottageleft by an old widowinto a home. Scrubbed floors, washed rugs in the stream with Fred. Copper kettle shining. Tea by the hearth. Dreamed of a bigger placewooden kitchen, rugs, carved cupboards. Growing old there, reminiscing.
When Fred strayed, shed thoughtwooden kitchen, rugs, kettlehed come back. Like before.
But no. Nothing brought back what wobbled.
***
Annie never showed her hurt. Smiled at work, greeted Fred like nothing happened. Hed dodged her at firstwhat might she do? Then relaxed. These things happen.
He delayed the divorce, wavering. Shrugged, hollow-eyed, when she handed him the papers.
Thought shed beg, weep. But she bloomed. What went on in her head? Mustve found someone. Nahno secrets in villages.
***
Annie, came about the house. Built together, but youre queen here, while were squeezed into a bedsit.
Want to move in? Awful tight, three of us.
Dont twist it. Not like you. Soft, youve always been.
Spit it out, Fred.
House splits needed. Not right, lurching about.
How? Saw it lengthways or chop it sideways?
Dont be daft. Stella and I saysell it.
Just you decided? Hands built it, now strangers get it?
Got buyers lined up.
No. Not to strangers.
Have to. Wont agree? Courtll
No court. Buy my half.
Serious, Annie? Wherell you go?
Your problem? Strangers fine, but me? Dont fret.
Aint got the money. Need time.
***
Annie watched the village shrink through the bus window. To the town first, then nearer her boy. Vadim had flat-viewed alreadya vet with experience? Snatched up quick. Sad, leaving half a life behind. But better than pitying stares, or seeing Fred and his near-wife. Autumn wedding, they say. Let them. His choice.
Regret the house? No. No warmth left. Let Fred have itnot strangers.
***
Fred stared at garish cabinets, fake flowers, plush throws, glass table with its nonsense pattern. This a kitchen? How eat here after work, when colours jab the eyes?
He missed the wooden kitchen, kettle, rugs. Annie bustling, pleasing him. Fool. Trading kind, gentlegood wife, motherfor this? Gloss outside, hollow within. Like these cupboardshe yanked them open. Empty. Instant noodles, microwave rice, boxed tea. Thats it.
Empty house, empty heart.
Stella watched, mascara-thick lashes batting.
Fred slumped on the step, head in hands. Fool. Fool. Fool. Wrecked the best yearsfor what? Nothingd be right again.
Hed scented victoryscraped together the cash, Annie signing the deed. Triumph as he and Stella gutted the kitchen, flung the wreckage where her garden was. Stella sneered, tossing rugs on the pile. Annie passed, eyes blank.
Shed moved onnot alone. Took something vital: peace, warmth, belief in happy endings.
Hed smashed it allleft only emptiness. Like dirty prints on clean rugs.
**Lesson:** The past can’t be bought back with trinkets, and hollow glamour never fills the space of a true heart. Some choices leave marks no polish can clean.
