Everything’s the Coat’s Fault
Emily sat at her desk, staring out the window instead of her computer screen. The last warm days of September lingered, but her thoughts weren’t on the weather—she was debating how to spend the unexpected bonus that had landed in her account.
“Oliver needs new trainers. The boy’s growing like a weed—everything wears out in no time. A new jacket, too, but by spring, it’ll be too small. Maybe we should save for a holiday—finally take him to the seaside next summer…” But then Sophie walked into the office, interrupting her thoughts.
“Well? What do you think?” Sophie twirled, showing off a sleek new coat. “Worth every penny, don’t you reckon? Staggeringly expensive, but I couldn’t resist.”
“New boots too?” asked Olivia, Emily’s desk mate. “Suede? One walk in the rain on these pavements, and they’ll be ruined.”
*Maybe I should buy a new coat too*, Emily thought. *I’ve had mine for four years. But Mum… She’ll have a fit. I’m nearly forty, and I’m still terrified of what she’ll say. Haven’t I earned the right to treat myself? Especially with my own money? Sophie’s only a few years younger, but she might as well be a decade ahead—no kid, no strict mother still treating her like a silly little girl.*
The other two bickered lightly.
“Oh, stop being such a wet blanket. You’re just jealous. I’ll wear my old wellies in the rain. Honestly, you’re no fun.” Sophie pouted and flounced toward the door.
“Sophie, wait,” Emily called after her. “Where did you get it?”
“Interested, eh?” Sophie smirked, doubling back to Emily’s desk. She fished a discount card from her pocket. “Here—shop’s address is on it, and there’s a decent discount.”
“Oh, I was just asking,” Emily mumbled, eyeing the card.
“Go on, treat yourself. You only live once.” Sophie winked and disappeared, leaving the card behind.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Olivia peered over her monitor.
“Maybe I *should* get a new coat. This bonus money…”
Olivia shrugged. “Expensive and impractical. Sophie gets driven everywhere while you’ll be crammed on the tube. And your mum… Blimey, Em, she’ll have your head.”
They both burst out laughing.
“Easy for you to say—you’ve got a husband buying you new clothes every season. I’ve always put myself last. First the mortgage, then groceries, then Oliver’s never-ending needs—he grows like a weed. If there’s anything left, I might scrape enough for a sale item. Mum’s right about one thing: I *am* hopeless with money.”
“Stop overthinking it. Go after work,” Olivia said plainly. “Honestly, you dress like you’re sixty. No offence. Sophie’s a flirt, and men fall for it, but *you’re* the pretty one. Sweetheart of a woman. Spruce yourself up a bit, and you’ll have them queuing. Clothes *do* make the woman. Men are visual creatures.” She ducked back behind her screen.
***
Emily married late. With a mother like hers—a strict former maths teacher—it was a miracle she’d wed at all. She’d spent her life afraid of disappointing her, excelling in everything.
Not that her mum hadn’t suffered too. Raised Emily alone after her father left when she was barely five. He drank, money was tight, and pride kept her from chasing child support. He vanished entirely after a few years. Her mother had searched—what else could she do?—but he’d disappeared without a trace.
Emily graduated top of her class, built a career, but love never stuck. Men liked *her*—just not her mother’s approval. Too handsome? Bound to stray. Divorced and broke? After their flat, no doubt.
Her friends were on second marriages, kids in school, while Emily had barely dated. Then came a man her mother *didn’t* hate—or so she claimed. Maybe she’d just given up. “Time’s ticking. You’ll end up a spinster. And I’d like grandchildren before I’m too old.”
After the wedding, Emily moved in with her husband and fell pregnant almost immediately. Then the problems started. Little Oliver never slept; her husband grew distant, stayed out late. One day, he came home and said he’d met someone else.
Emily took Oliver and went back to her mum. At first, she hoped he’d change his mind—until he stopped answering her calls.
“I *knew* this would happen. You’re too trusting. Let people walk all over you…” Her mother’s lectures were endless. Emily stayed silent. Arguing only made it worse, and Oliver didn’t need the shouting.
Her mother adored her grandson, eventually softening. But Emily couldn’t breathe without her opinion. Conflict-averse, she bit her tongue—until Oliver started nursery and she returned to work.
He was always ill. Her retired mother stepped in. Money was tight, but they scraped by, saving for that seaside trip, just once. Oliver was bright and affectionate. For him, she’d endure anything.
***
Outside the boutique’s glass doors, Emily hesitated. If she walked away now, she’d never come back. Steeling herself, she stepped inside. A bell tinkled overhead.
A saleswoman approached instantly. “Good afternoon! We’ve just got in our autumn-winter collection—last season’s pieces are on sale. What are you after? Coats, jackets?”
“A coat,” Emily said, forcing a smile.
“Size ten, I’d guess? This way. You’ve lovely legs—no need to hide them under something frumpy.” She led Emily to a rack, selecting a tailored ivory coat.
It fit perfectly—cinched at the waist, skimming just below the knees. The saleswoman draped a blush-pink scarf around her neck.
“It’s *you*. We’ve had this piece for ages—nobody else could carry it.”
Emily checked the price tag and paled.
“Don’t fret. It’s pure wool, easy to clean. Since it’s the last one, I’ll give you a discount.” She vanished, returning with a pair of ankle boots. “Try these.”
They fit like a dream. For the first time, Emily didn’t recognise herself in the mirror.
“Taking them?”
“Yes,” she blurted, afraid she’d hesitate.
The bonus was gone—she’d even dipped into her wages. *Mum will kill me.*
“Wear them now. I’ll pack your old things.” The saleswoman beamed.
All the way home, Emily rehearsed excuses. She walked instead of taking the bus, hyperaware of strangers’ glances. At her doorstep, she still hadn’t figured out what to say.
Her mother froze mid-sentence when she saw her.
“Mum, don’t be cross! My coworker lent me her discount card—”
“Spent your *entire* wage, have you? Oliver needs new shoes. The holiday fund—”
“Mum, you look *beautiful*!” Oliver chirped. “I don’t need shoes—winter boots soon anyway. We’ll save loads by summer. You should dress like this *always*.”
Emily ruffled his hair.
“Always? With what money? Won the lottery, have you?” Her mother’s voice climbed.
Oliver fled. Emily hung the coat carefully, bracing for the storm.
“You selfish girl! What’ll we *eat*?”
“We won’t starve! It was *my* money—can’t I have *one* nice thing?”
The row was vicious. Emily locked herself in Oliver’s room, crying. Later, ashamed, she found her mother at the kitchen table.
“I’m sorry,” Emily whispered.
“Don’t bother. I’ll be dead soon.”
“Don’t be daft. You might remarry.”
“Remarry? Been there, wasted my time. And that coat—should’ve gone for something darker.”
“But it’s pretty,” Emily said, kissing her cheek.
***
The next morning, she wore the coat to work.
“In *this* weather?” her mother fretted.
“I’ve an umbrella.”
Some things never changed. Her mother saved “good” clothes for special occasions. Maybe today *was* special.
Grey clouds rolled in. As Emily stepped off the bus, rain fell. Her umbrella jammed. A black Range Rover sped through a puddle, drenching her.
The driver jumped out. “Are you mad, standing there in that coat?”
“*You* drove like a maniac!”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“You *can’t*! It’s one of a kind!”
“Don’t touch it—you’ll smear the dirt. I’ll take you to the cleaners.”
GrudginglyWith a small smile, she watched the way Oliver and her new husband laughed together over breakfast, realizing that sometimes the best things in life come when you least expect them—and yes, perhaps it was all the coat’s fault.
