The Price of a Hidden Stash: How Victor Nearly Lost His Wife
Rita stepped into the yard to hang the freshly washed laundry. The day was fair, the sun warm as summer, and everything dried in an instant. She glanced over the fence, as she often did, into the neighbours’ garden. There, pacing restlessly from corner to corner, was Victor, searching for something. He peered beneath the porch, rummaged in the shed, even checked under the bench.
“Lost something, Victor? Or just yesterday’s good sense?” Rita teased with a smile.
But the man didn’t even turn, just waved a hand dismissively and vanished indoors. Rita shrugged and turned back, but before she could step inside, the door burst open, and in rushed Thea—Victor’s wife—her cheeks streaked with tears.
“Thea, love, what’s happened?” Rita hurried to her side, alarmed.
“How could he?” Thea choked out, unable to hold back her sobs. “How could he even think such a thing?”
Rita patted her friend’s shoulder, bewildered. The couple had always seemed the picture of harmony—no shouting, no bitter words, just blooming flowerbeds and the scent of fresh baking drifting from their window.
Victor and Thea lived in a snug cottage on the outskirts of Bath. Their home was like a postcard—bursting with roses in summer, its paths neatly cleared of snow in winter. Their daughter was married, their son Thomas finishing college. Victor worked as an engineer, Thea as a seamstress at the local mill. Neighbours Rita and Andrew had been friends with them for years, sharing holidays and lending a hand when needed.
Victor had one peculiar habit: he loved hiding money. He tucked it away in all sorts of places—behind loose bricks in the shed, under the lavender bushes, even beneath a floorboard in the summerhouse. Not out of distrust—it just made him feel secure. The trouble was, he often forgot where he’d hidden it and would tear the place apart looking.
Thea knew all about it. Early in their marriage, she’d scolded him, but eventually, she gave up—some habits couldn’t be mended. She never touched his money, even when she stumbled upon it. Twenty-six years together had taught her patience.
That morning, Rita spotted Victor again, darting about the garden like a man possessed. She chuckled and called out, “Lost another stash, have you?”
But barely half an hour later, Thea appeared on Rita’s doorstep, eyes red and swollen. Rita sat her down, poured tea, and set out biscuits.
“Can you believe it?” Thea managed between shaky breaths. “He accused me—said I’d stolen his money! ‘You took it and kept quiet,’ he said! Victor! The man who always told me, ‘You’re sacred to me.’ And now I’m a thief? I’ve never once touched his hidden money, though I’ve found it a hundred times!”
Rita gasped. This wasn’t the Victor she knew. Thea was gentle, kind-hearted—to insult her was like defiling something holy.
“Don’t take it to heart, love,” Rita soothed. “He’ll remember where he put it, and then he’ll be on his knees begging forgiveness.”
“I don’t care! My holiday starts next week—I’m off to visit Mum in the countryside. And I might not come back! Let him live with his precious money!”
Meanwhile, Victor scoured the village, searching not just for his cash but for his wife. He popped into the shop where Tanya, Thea’s friend, worked.
“Tanya, seen Thea?”
“Not a glimpse,” Tanya replied. “Lost your better half, have you? She’ll be back. She’s not the leaving sort.”
On his way home, Victor bumped into Thomas and his girlfriend, Violet, who clutched a lavish bouquet of red roses.
“Birthday, is it?” Victor asked, recalling his son had asked for money for a gift.
“Nineteen today!” Violet beamed. “We’re off to the pub with friends tonight.”
Victor forced a smile, but his chest tightened. He hadn’t given Thomas a penny—he was sure of it. Where had the roses come from?
He called his son later. “Tom, where’d you get the money for those flowers?”
“Found it yesterday, Dad. Under a box on the veranda—was looking for my bag, and there was an envelope. Figured it was one of your stashes. Meant to tell you.”
Victor fell silent, shame and relief warring inside him. “Right… Don’t let Violet down.”
Now, to find Thea. And beg her forgiveness.
He checked next door. Andrew was mending the gate and grinned when he spotted Victor.
“Made a right mess of things, haven’t you? Thea’s with Rita. Lucky she hasn’t packed her bags yet.”
“I know,” Victor muttered. “I’ll make it right.” He paused. “Tom found the money, by the way—spent it on flowers for his girl.”
“Good lad!” Rita called from the porch. “Best think hard about how to win Thea back!”
Victor did just that. He gathered every hidden envelope, jumped in the car, and sped off. An hour later, he returned with a small black bag.
He approached Thea. “Forgive me, love. I don’t know what came over me. Come home, please.”
Thea eyed him warily, but her resolve was already softening.
“Not yet,” she said, though the tears had stopped.
“Got you something,” Victor said. “Remember that necklace with the pendant you liked at the jeweller’s? I noticed.”
He handed her the box. Thea hesitated, then opened it—a delicate gold chain with a pendant shaped like her zodiac sign.
“Oh, Victor…” she whispered, fastening it around her neck despite herself.
“That’s more like it!” Rita clapped. “Gifts like that make up for any hidden stash!”
They laughed long into the evening, Rita setting the table right there in the garden. The tale of the “missing” money would be told at every neighbourly gathering for months.
And Victor? He never hid money again. The thought of losing Thea terrified him. Without her, what was home?
