The Curse of the Coat
Emily sat at her desk, staring out the window instead of her computer screen. It was one of those last warm September days, but her mind wasn’t on the weather—it was on the surprise bonus she’d just received and how to spend it.
“Tom needs new trainers. The boy’s growing like a weed, burns through everything. And a winter coat, but he’ll outgrow it by spring. Maybe we should save for a holiday, finally take him to the seaside next summer…” Then Jessica walked in, cutting off her thoughts.
“What d’you think? Worth every penny, yeah?” Jessica spun around, showing off her new coat. “Proper expensive, but look at it!”
“New boots too? Suede?” asked Sophie, Emily’s colleague. “Wear those in the rain once with our pavements, and they’ll be ruined.”
“Shut up, you’re just jealous. I’ll wear my old wellies if it rains. Boring lot, you are. I’m off to show the girls in accounts,” Jessica huffed, heading for the door.
“Jess—wait,” Emily called after her. “Where’d you get it?”
“Fancy it, do you?” Jessica tossed a discount card onto Emily’s desk. “There’s the address, and it’s got decent savings.”
“Oh, I was just asking,” Emily mumbled, unable to look away from the card.
“Honestly, live a little. Right, off to gloat properly,” Jessica said, flouncing out and leaving the card behind.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Sophie peered over her monitor.
“I could do with a new coat. Got that bonus, maybe I should treat myself.”
Sophie shrugged. “Bit pricey for daily wear. Jess gets driven to work by her bloke. You’ll be crammed on the Tube in rush hour. And your mum… God, Em, she’ll bury you alive over it.”
They both snorted.
“Easy for you to say—you’ve got Mark. New outfits every season. I’ve spent years putting everyone first—saving for the flat, groceries, Tom’s school stuff. If I’m lucky, I grab something on sale. That’s life on a budget,” Emily sighed.
“Right, enough dithering. Go after work. Just, no offence, you dress like a librarian. Jess is all flirty, gets lads swarming like bees. You’re gorgeous. Sweet as anything. Spruce up a bit, and you’ll have to beat them off. Blokes are shallow—first impressions matter. And ignore your mum. Treat yourself,” Sophie said, ducking back behind her screen.
***
Emily married late. With a mum like hers—a former maths teacher, strict as they come—it was a miracle she’d married at all. She’d spent her life terrified of disappointing her. Straight-A student, never a foot wrong.
Couldn’t blame her mum, really. Raised her alone. Dad left when she was five—drink got him. Money was always tight. No child support, just empty promises. Then he vanished entirely. Mum searched for years. Gone, like he’d never existed. Maybe dead.
Emily graduated top of her class, worked hard, but romance never stuck. Men liked her. Mum didn’t like them. Too handsome? He’d stray. Divorced and broke? After her flat. Meanwhile, her friends were on second marriages, kids in school, while Emily hadn’t had a proper relationship.
Then she met someone Mum approved of—or at least didn’t object to. “Time’s running out,” Mum had muttered. “Don’t want you left on the shelf.”
After the wedding, they moved in. She got pregnant straight away. Then the problems started. Little Tom never slept. Her husband stayed out late. One night, he came home and said he’d met someone else.
Emily packed up Tom and went back to Mum. At first, she hoped he’d change his mind, but he wouldn’t even answer her calls.
“Mum was right—you’re too trusting. Always have been,” Mum scolded. Emily stayed quiet. Arguing only made it worse.
Eventually, Mum softened—adored Tom—but still ruled Emily’s life. Non-confrontational by nature, Emily avoided clashes. When Tom turned two, she went back to work.
Then he started getting ill all the time. Mum retired to look after him. Money was tight, but they scraped by, saving bit by bit for a seaside holiday. Tom was bright, affectionate—worth every sacrifice.
***
Outside the posh boutique, Emily hesitated. If she walked away now, she’d never come back. Steeling herself, she pulled the door open. Bells chimed sweetly overhead.
A sales assistant glided over. “Hello! We’ve just got in our autumn collection, and last season’s coats are on sale. What are you after—wool? Trench?”
“A coat. Just… a coat,” Emily said, forcing a smile.
“Size 10? Come this way.” The assistant led her deeper into the shop. “You’ve got lovely legs—don’t hide them in something too long.” She plucked a hanger and guided Emily to the fitting room.
The first coat was dreadful—baggy, shapeless. Emily regretted coming.
“Try this.” The assistant handed her a cream-coloured one.
Emily froze. It fit perfectly—tailored, just below the knees. She stood taller without thinking.
“Stunning. Wait—” The assistant vanished, returning with a blush-pink scarf. She draped it artfully around Emily’s neck.
“It’s like it was made for you. One of a kind. Others tried it on—never worked. But you? Perfect.”
Emily checked the price tag. Her stomach dropped.
“Don’t fret. Pure wool, lasts ages. Since it’s the last one, I’ll give you a discount. Hang on.”
Emily almost bolted. Too expensive. Too impractical. Then the assistant came back with a shoebox.
“Try these ankle boots. Go on.”
Too flustered to refuse, Emily slipped them on. They fit like a dream—heeled but comfortable. Not like the cheap shoes she usually bought. She barely recognised herself in the mirror.
“Taking them?”
“Yes,” Emily blurted, before she could chicken out.
The bonus was gone—she’d even dipped into her wages. “Mum’ll kill me,” she thought, handing over her card.
“Wear them home. I’ll pack your old things.” The assistant beamed. “New winter line arrives next month—come see us!”
All the way home, Emily rehearsed excuses. Too self-conscious for the Tube, she walked, hyper-aware of strangers’ glances. Only at her doorstep did she realise she still hadn’t figured out what to say.
Mum met her in the hallway. “Where’ve you been—” She broke off, staring.
“Mum, don’t be cross. A girl at work lent me her discount card, and there was a sale—”
“You spent your whole wage? Tom needs new shoes. We were saving for the seaside—”
“Mum, you look pretty!” Tom piped up. “Ignore Gran. I don’t need shoes yet—winter ones soon anyway. We’ll save up again. You should dress like this always.”
Emily ruffled his hair gratefully.
“Always? With what money? Lottery win, did you?” Mum snapped.
Bracing for a row, Tom ducked out. Emily hung the coat carefully, then bent to unzip her boots.
“Boots too? Selfish, that’s what you are!”
“Mum, stop. We won’t starve. I didn’t touch my wages—just a bit extra. I earned it. Can’t I have one nice thing? I’m nearly forty, and you still scold me like a kid—”
The fight erupted anyway. They said awful things. Emily fled to Tom’s room, slamming the door, wiping tears. Mum clattered dishes in the kitchen, sniffling.
Guilt gnawed at her. She sighed and went back.
“Mum, you’re doing great,” Tom whispered.
Mum sat at the table like a scolded child. Emily hugged her. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. Fancy a shopping trip? We’ll get you something too.”
“Don’t want anything. I’ll be dead soon.”
“Not yet. You’re young enough to remarry.”
“Don’t be daft. Been there. But… that coat’s too pale. Should’ve gone darker.”
“But it’s pretty,” Emily said, kissing her cheek.
***
Next morning, Emily wore the coat to work. She skipped the boots—too warm yet.
“Wearing that today?” Mum fretted in the hallway. “What if it rains?”
“Got my umbrella,” Emily said, rushing out.
Some things never changed. Mum saved “good” clothes for best. But maybe today was best?
Grey clouds smothered the sky. Indian summer was over. Rain spat as Emily left the bus. Her umbrellaAs she fumbled with the stubborn umbrella, a sleek black Jaguar sped through a puddle, drenching her coat—but before she could even gasp, the driver hopped out, looking mortified, and stammered, “Let me make this right,” and somehow, without knowing it yet, Emily’s whole life was about to change.
