Valerie was scrubbing dishes at the kitchen sink, lost in thought, when John strode in. Before entering, he flicked off the overhead light, casting the room in the pale glow of a late London afternoon.
“Its plenty bright,” John muttered with a frown. “No need to waste electricity.”
“I was about to put a wash on,” Valerie answered softly.
“You can do it tonightoff-peak hours are cheaper,” John replied, curt as ever. “And you really dont need to have the tap on so strong. The water bills bad enough as it is, you know. Honestly, Valerie, youll bankrupt us with these habits.”
He reached out and turned the stream to a trickle. Valerie looked at John with an ache in her eyes, then switched off the tap entirely. She dried her hands and took a heavy seat at the table.
“John, have you ever taken a proper look at yourself? Honestly, I mean,” she asked, a tremor in her voice.
“All I bloody do is look at myself,” John snapped back, bitterness leaking through every word.
“And? What do you see?” Valerie pressed.
“What, as a human being?” John raised an eyebrow.
“As a husband and a father.”
“I’m a husband. Like any other. A father like any other. Normal, average. Nothing special. Why are you grilling me?”
“Are you saying every husband and father acts this way?” Valerie replied, her tone trembling.
“Whats your point? Looking for a row?” John shot back.
Valerie realised shed stepped beyond a return; this talk had to run its course, until John finally understood that living with him felt like slow torture.
“John, do you know why youve never left me?” she asked, voice steady.
“And why on earth should I leave?” John smirked.
“For one, you dont love me,” Valerie said quietly, “and you dont love our children either.”
John drew breath to protest, but Valerie carried on before he could utter a sound.
“No, dont bother saying otherwise. Lets not waste our lives arguing the point. I want to talk about why youre still here, hanging on to all of us.”
“And whys that?” John asked.
“Because, John, youre too tight-fisted to let go. Breaking up would be a catastrophe for your bank balance. Fifteen years weve been together what do we have to show for it? Forget the fact we married and had kids. What did we really achieve in these years?”
“Weve got our whole lives ahead,” John replied, tone flat.
“Not our whole lives, John. Thats the sad truthjust whats left. In all our time together, weve never once taken a holiday to the seaside. Not once. Im not talking about fancy trips abroad; we havent even left for a week somewhere nice in England. We always stay put in the city, every year. We dont even go out mushroom picking in the woods. Why? Because its expensive.”
“Because were saving up,” John said, as if reciting doctrine. “For our future.”
“Our future?” Valerie scoffed. “You mean your own?”
“For your sake too,” John countered.
“For mine? Really?” Valerie stared at him, searching. “For me and the children? Every month for fifteen years, have you been putting our money aside for us, for our benefit?”
“Who else, then?” John replied stiffly. “Weve got a fair bit stashed away, you know.”
“We? Oh, perhaps you mean your account? Because theres nothing Ive seen.” Valeries sarcasm bit through the air. “Lets make it simple. Can I have some of the savings? I want to buy some new clothes for the kids and me. Fifteen years Ive been wearing the same worn dresses I had as a brideand whatever your brothers wife passes down. The kids have always had their cousins cast-offs. And you know what? I want my own place. I cant live in your mums flat any longer.”
“Mum gave us two rooms,” John objected. “Shes been nothing but generous, and its wasteful to buy new when the kids have perfectly good clothes waiting for them. As for you”
“And me?” Valerie cut in. “Whose old things do I get? Your brother’s wife’s, right?”
“Oh, dont be ridiculous. Why do you need new clothes? You’re a mother of two, Valerie. Youre thirty-five. Time to be sensible, not vain.”
“What should I be thinking about, then?” Valerie asked, her voice trembling between despair and anger.
“About lifes meaning,” John retorted. “Theres more to life than clothes and shopping and all that girlish nonsensemuch more important things.”
“And what would those higher things be, John?”
“Personal growth. Rising above all this consumer rubbish, thats what you should care about.”
“I see,” Valeries jaw clenched. “So thats why you keep all the money hidden awayso we can grow spiritually, is it? So we dont get distracted by clothes and a decent place to live? Am I getting it right?”
“Because you lot cant be trusted!” John shouted suddenly. “Youd spend it all in no time, and what would we do if something happened, eh? Have you thought of that?”
“Have I thought of what wed live on if something happened?” Valerie repeated. “Funny you should ask, John. Because honestly, it feels like your something happened has already come. Look at the way were livingits like disaster already struck!”
John said nothing, glowering at her.
“You cut costs on soap, on loo roll, even on napkins,” Valerie pressed on, voice shaking. “You pinch soap and hand cream from the factory.”
“Every penny counts,” John muttered. “Thats how you build a fortuneby minding the small stuff. To waste it on fancy soaps or tissues is madness.”
“Alright then. How long is this going to last, John? Ten years? Fifteen? Twenty? How many decades until we live decently, with proper loo roll and all the rest? Im thirty-five and theres no sign of it yet, is there?”
John stared in silence.
“Let me guess,” Valeries voice quivered with bitter humour. “Forty? Are we allowed to live at forty?”
Still, John was silent.
“Right, silly question,” Valerie nodded, sarcastic. “Who ever starts living at forty? Try fifty? Maybe fiftys the magic age?”
John remained mute.
“Still no? Of coursefiftys nothing. Mustnt risk it all on loo roll, just in case disaster strikes and were left in the gutter! Maybe sixty, then? Maybe at sixty well actually start living. Think how much well have in the bank by then! Can I buy new clothes at sixty, John?”
Not a word from John.
“Listen, John,” Valeries voice faltered, heavy with dread. “What if we never make it to sixty? Honestly, eating cheap rubbish all these years because you think it saves moneyits ruining our health. Have you realised that? Were always in a foul mood too, you know. People dont live long with constant gloom hanging over them.”
“If we move out and start spending more on food, we wont be able to save,” John said, desperate.
“Exactly,” Valerie replied quietly. “And thats why Im leaving you. Ive had enough of saving. I dont want to do it anymore. You love it, but I cant bear it for another minute.”
“But how will you get by?” John gasped.
“Ill manage,” Valerie answered coldly. “Anythings better than this. Ill rent a flat for myself and the kids; my salarys as good as yours. Ill have enough for rent, groceries, even some new clothes. More than that, I wont have your lectures about turning off the lights or using the washing machine at midnight. Ill use it whenever I like, and Ill buy the best loo roll there is. Therell always be napkins on my table. In the shops, Ill buy whatever I want without waiting for sales.”
“But you wont be able to save a thing!” John stammered, panic rising.
“Why not?” Valerie shot back. “Ill save your child support, maybe. But let’s be honestIm not going to. Not because I cant, but because I dont want to. Ill spend every pound. Ill live paycheque to paycheque. On the weekends, Ill drop the kids at yours and your mothersfor me, thatll be a nice break. Ill go to the theatre, eat out, visit galleries. And come summer, Ill take a seaside holiday. I havent decided where yet, but Ill make up my mind soononce youre out of my life.”
Johns eyes grew dark with fearnot for Valerie, nor even for the children. For himself. He started frantically calculating how much hed have left after child maintenance, after the weekends with the kids. And most of all, it was the thought of Valerie spending his money on trips to the sea that haunted him.
“And one more thing,” Valerie added, her voice ringing clear. “That savings account of yours? Were splitting it. Down the middle.”
“What do you mean, splitting it?” John stammered.
“Half and half,” she replied. “And Im going to spend every penny I get from it. However much youve squirrelled away during these fifteen yearsits mine too. I refuse to save any longer just for the sake of saving, John. Im going to start living. Right now.”
John mouthed wordlessly, stuck in place by dread, his thoughts crashing to a halt under the weight of her words.
“And do you know my greatest wish, John?” Valerie said, her voice gentle at last. “When my time comes, I want my bank balance to read exactly zero. Then Ill know for sure I spent every bit of my life on living for myself.”
Two months later, John and Valerie were divorced.
