Long ago, in the quiet English countryside, the evening air hung heavy with unspoken tension.
*”When will supper be ready?”*
*”Well, when you cook it, then it will be,”* snapped Margaret, pushing her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. *”Thomas, is your wife expecting me to stand at the stove while she lounges about?”*
Eleanor paid no heed. She gathered a few belongings and strode toward the hallway, her mother-in-law close behind.
*”What on earth is this? Where do you think you’re going?”*
*”On holiday! Goodbye!”*
The weight of her bags finally lifted, Eleanor exhaled in relief.
*”I’m home.”*
From the sitting room came a disgruntled muttering, and then the man himself appearedThomas, a fellow of about forty, give or take a year, clad in a tracksuit and slippers.
*”Eleanor, must you shout? This isnt some rustic cottage. Show some decorum.”*
*”Honestly, you couldve met me. You know the wages came in, the shopping needed doing.”*
Thomas exhaled loudly. *”Good Lord! What shopping?”*
Without waiting for an answer, he retreated to his chair. Eleanor sighed. How exhausted she was! She worked two jobs just to keep the house afloat, while Thomas, under his mothers doting eye, spent year after year writing what he called *the next great novel*. The first had been dismissed*too profound for the common mind*.
She unpacked the shopping in the kitchen. Tomorrow her holiday began. The whole house needed scrubbing, the laundry tackled, the ironing mountain conqueredall under Margarets watchful eye. She was bone-weary.
Margaret appeared in the doorway.
*”Ellie, sitting down already? Are you feeding your husband or not? The mans worked all daymust he wait?”*
*”Worked at what? Earning anything?”*
The words escaped before she could stop them. Once, she had gazed at Thomas with admiration, believing in his promise of literary fame. She had trembled at his mothers displeasure, bending over backward to please. Then came the guiltduring her maternity leave, Margaret had supported them all.
Margaret spun on her heel. *”What did you say?”*
*”I asked if he earned anything. Usually, when people work, money comes home.”*
*”How dare you! Thomas spent the day plotting his next chapter! Youve no notion of intellectual labor!”*
Margaret stormed off, leaving Eleanor with a sudden, clear thought: *What am I doing here?*
Her son, James, had long been staying with her parents in the village*too loud, too distracting for Thomass great, unreadable masterpiece.*
Eleanor lunged for the fridge, stuffing food into a large bag. She had her wages, her holiday pay. Shed buy treats, a gift for James along the way.
Margaret cornered her in the hall. *”Where are you off to now?”*
*”On holiday! Goodbye!”*
She didnt wait for the eruption. Heaving the bag, she fled downstairs, hailing a taxi. Sixty milesso what? Just this once.
James was asleep when she arrived at her parents cottage. He woke, burrowing into her arms. She held him tight. How shed missed him!
Her mother studied her. *”Whats happened? Youve left Thomas? Wholl look after him?”*
Her mother had never approved. Early visits had ended when she roused Thomas at dawn, sending him to chop wood or weed the garden until his romantic notions of country life expired.
*”Ive had enough. A whole months holiday!”*
Her mother beamed. *”Thank heavens. Rest, be with your boy.”*
That night, curled beside James, Eleanor lay awake, tracing his features in the moonlight. Dawn broke with the scent of bakingunfamiliar, wonderful. James bounded in.
*”Grannys made pies! A whole batch!”*
After breakfast, Eleanor asked, *”Right, what needs doing?”*
*”Already? Youve only just rested.”*
*”This isnt workits joy.”*
Her mother gestured outside. *”The cabbage patch is overgrown, the cucumbers need weeding.”*
By the third row, Eleanor realized she was happy. The neat, tended lines soothed her.
*”Never seen anyone smile while weeding,”* a voice teased.
She looked up. *”Henry! Whered you come from?”*
She flung her arms around the man whod once been her childhood neighbor. At ten, shed trailed after fifteen-year-old Henry, smitten. Hed humored her, sharing sweets, protecting her. Then hed left for service, married, moved away. A decade had passed.
*”What brings you here?”* she asked.
*”Divorced, a month back. Came to see Mother.”*
That evening, Henry and his mother hosted themgrilling sausages, laughing. No tension, no criticism. Just ease.
Two weeks later, her mother dropped a question. *”Will you go back?”*
*”I dont know. My jobs in town, but no home there.”*
*”Stay. Well find you work. And Henry youve seen how he looks at you?”*
*”Mother! Thats just old memories.”*
*”Hes a good man. Steady work in the city.”*
Eleanor laughed. *”Are you matchmaking?”*
Her mother blushed. *”If its right, why not?”*
Henry left for a weeks work. Eleanor missed him absurdly. Meanwhile, Thomas bombarded herfirst guilt, then threats: *ungrateful, hed lifted her from obscurity, hed throw her out.* She scoffedafter years, hed never even registered her on the lease, and now hed *remove* her?
Margaret called next. *”My blood pressures soaring because of you! Any harm that comes to me is on your head!”*
Thensilence. Strange, but welcome.
Henry returned, bearing James a toy lorry. That evening, as sausages sizzled, a car pulled up. A young woman dashed out.
*”Darling, hiding wont help. Games overback to the city!”*
*”Olivia, whyre you here?”*
Understanding dawned. His *wife*former, current, it hardly mattered. Eleanor took Jamess hand, retreatingonly to freeze as another taxi arrived.
Thomas and Margaret emerged.
*”Look at her! Gallivanting while her husband suffers!”*
*”Why are you here?”* Eleanors jaw tightened. These people repelled her now.
*”Had your fun? Home now! A man needs tendingmeals, cleaning!”*
*”Has the man found work?”*
Margaret spluttered, but Thomas cut in. *”You know Im writing! Not like shifting crates in some factory!”*
*”Thomas” Eleanor sighed. “Youre a failure. What have you ever done for this family? Provided? Taught James? No. You and your mother latched onto me. Im not coming backonly for my things. And mark me, Ill take every pennys worth I brought into that house!”*
At the gate, Henry waited, grinning. *”Quite the scene. Well said.”*
They watched Thomas and Margaret arguing with Olivia, hands flailing.
Eleanor didnt stay in the village. After marrying Henry, they moved to the city. He insisted she leave the factory*no place for a woman*. Now she sorted papers in an office, embarrassed by her meager wage. Henry had frowned.
*”Your moneys yoursfor ribbons and trifles. A man provides for his family.”*
Thomas wasnt alone long. He married Olivia. Now Margaret supported *two* layaboutsuntil, Eleanor heard, she bullied Thomas into factory work.
All things, in time, fall right. What breaks in one place mends in another.
