The Break that Saved My Life
“Matilda, what do you think you’re doing?!” Nigel’s voice echoed through the Islington flat. “Where on earth are you going dressed like that?”
“To the theatre, if I may!” Matilda adjusted her new blouse, bought on sale, before the mirror. “I’m meeting Poppy; we’ve wanted to see that play for ages.”
“What theatre?! The house is upside down! Dishes unwashed, my shirts unpressed! And you’re off gallivanting!” Nigel grabbed her arm, spinning her around. “Go change immediately and tend the house!”
Matilda yanked her arm free, leaving red marks on her wrist.
“Nigel, we talked about this yesterday! I spent all day indoors, finished everything. I want one evening for myself. What’s wrong with that?”
“For yourself?!” He sneered contemptuously. “Who feeds you, clothes you? Puts a roof over your head? I’ve worked all day; I want a proper meal, not more of your sandwiches!”
Matilda walked silently into the kitchen, pulling food from the fridge. Her hands trembled; her insides clenched tight. That morning she’d been so excited for the evening, even doing her hair and polishing her shoes. Now…
“Exactly!” Nigel grunted smugly, blaring the television. “And be quick about it! I’m starving!”
As the pan heated, Matilda glanced furtively out the window. A woman her age was walking her corgi below, laughing into her mobile. How happy and free she seemed…
“Matilda! Fall asleep in there?!” he barked from the lounge.
“Nearly ready!” she called back, hastily turning the bangers.
Nigel appeared in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. “Right, tomorrow evening, Thompson’s coming round. We’ve business to discuss. None of your girlfriends here. Sit quietly, make the tea if we ask.”
“But tomorrow’s Saturday,” Matilda protested faintly. “The girls and I were going to the pub…”
“What girls? You’re forty-three, Matilda, snap out of it! Time to get your head straight. Home, family – that’s your place. Not nonsense with friends and pubs.”
Matilda set a plate before him and sat opposite. She had no appetite; a lump formed in her throat. “Nigel, why are you like this? You weren’t always… We used to go to the theatre together, the cinema. You used to buy me flowers…”
“Used to!” He waved a dismissive hand. “Used to be younger, prettier. What’s left now? Overweight, aged, dresses like an old woman. Embarrassing to be seen with you!”
The words stung sharper than any blow. Matilda stood and started clearing away. Tears threatened, but she fought them back. She wouldn’t give him more ammunition.
“Don’t start crying!” Nigel grimaced. “Can’t stand women’s tears. Better consider how to tidy yourself up. Join a gym, go on a diet. You’ve really let yourself go.”
When he returned to the television, Matilda texted Poppy: “Can’t make it tonight, sorry. Reschedule?”
An instant reply: “Mattie, what’s happened *again*? That’s the third time this month! This isn’t right!”
“Nothings wrong, just urgent things,” Matilda typed, then deleted it. She wrote simply: “All fine.”
But Poppy persisted: “Come to my place right now. I mean it.”
“Can’t. Nigel’s home.”
“Matilda, friends twenty years. I see what’s happening. Stop putting up with this!”
Matilda shoved the phone deep into a drawer. Poppy didn’t understand; she was divorced, living alone. Easy for her. But what about the house, the mortgage in their joint names? Where would she go? What could she do?
The next day, while Nigel was at work, Matilda visited her Aunt Edith in Camden. The septuagenarian embraced her warmly. “Mattie, my lovely girl! Come through, I’ve baked.”
Over tea, Aunt Edith scrutinised her niece. “You look peaky, dear. And thinner. Everything alright?”
“Fine, Auntie Edith,” Matilda forced a smile. “Just tired from work.”
“Work…” Aunt Edith murmured. “And home? How’s that Nigel?”
“He’s fine. Works hard for the family.”
Aunt Edith sighed after a long pause. “Darling, I was wed nearly forty years. Went through it all with your Uncle Arthur. But never, hear me, never did he disgrace himself by humiliating me or forbidding me to live.”
“Auntie, whatever…?”
“A woman must remain a woman, no matter what. If a man can’t grasp that, he’s worthless. Remember.”
Walking home, Matilda pondered her aunt’s words. Stopping by a bookshop, she picked up a novel she’d long coveted. Then replaced it – chores awaited. Nigel hated her reading.
That evening, Thompson arrived – an unpleasant, florid-faced man. He and Nigel sat in the lounge, drinking whisky, loudly discussing business. Matilda quietly washed up, careful not to disturb.
“Wife’s a treasure, Nigel!” came Thompson’s voice. “Quiet, knows her place. Mine would have interrupted three times by now!”
“Ah, well, trained her early,” Nigel replied smugly. “Set boundaries straight off, or you bang your head against a wall later.”
“Right! Women need knowing their place. All this equality nonsense!”
Matilda froze, plate in hand. So he boasted about “training” her? Was proud?
After Thompson left, Nigel was cheerful. “Well? Satisfied? Thompson praised you. Said I had the right sort of wife. See? My guidance isn’t wasted.”
*Guidance*. As if she were a naughty child, not a grown woman.
“Nigel, do you even love me?” she suddenly asked.
“Why ever ask? Course I do. Wouldn’t have put up with you otherwise.”
“Put up with… Before, you said you couldn’t live without me.”
“Before was then. We’re not kids playing at love anymore. There’s housework, duties, responsibility. That’s true love, not romantic tripe.”
Matilda lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, listening to her husband’s breathing. Married ten years ago, she’d been blissful! Life stretched ahead, days filled with shared joy.
Then things changed. Gradually. Flowers stopped, then interest in her work. Then criticism of her looks, her friends, her hobbies. She yielded, agreeing for peace. Now…
Morning brought renewed dissatisfaction. “Matilda, forgotten how to make proper coffee? Hot water, more like!”
“Sorry, I’ll make it stronger.”
“And get my white shirt ready, important meeting.”
“The white one’s still damp from washing. Take the blue; it suits you.”
“I know what suits me!” he bellowed. “I said white means white! Use the hairdryer if you must, but have it ready!”
Obediently, Matilda hung the damp shirt, blasting it with hot air. Aunt Edith’s words echoed: *A woman must remain a woman*.
At work in the City, her colleague Sophie noticed her mood.
“Mattie? Sad again? Husband troubles?”
“Not trouble. Just… weary, Soph.”
“Weary how? We’re all weary. You look like your world’s collapsed.”
Matilda tried to brush it off, but Sophie persisted. “Remember how you were when you started? Vibrant, fun, always buzzing with ideas. Now… switched off.”
“Grown up, perhaps.”
“Grown up? You’re forty-three,
The harshness of her past faded like a passing storm cloud, replaced by the quiet, enduring sunshine of a life fully her own.
