Alright, so here’s the story, but all adapted to feel properly English—names, places, everything.
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“You owe me, Mum.”
Valerie met her future husband on the street. She’d overslept before an exam, rushed to the bus stop, only to watch the bus pull away right in front of her.
“Brilliant,” she muttered, stamping her foot in frustration. “Now I’m definitely late.”
“Hey, where do you need to go?” A bloke on a bike stopped beside her. “I can give you a lift.”
“On a bike? Are you joking?” she snapped.
“Better than walking, isn’t it? Or you could wait for the next bus—who knows when that’ll be.” He stared at her, waiting.
Mobile phones didn’t exist back then, public payphones rarely worked, and you couldn’t just flag down a cab. What did she have to lose?
“We’ll get there faster than the bus if we cut through the back lanes,” he urged.
Valerie bit her lip, hesitating, but time was slipping away. She climbed onto the bike’s rack, sitting sideways.
“Hold on tight,” he said, pushing off the kerb. The bike wobbled at first, and she nearly jumped off in panic, but soon they were moving smoothly. Ten minutes later, they reached the medical college. Valerie hopped off.
“Thanks,” she said, noticing the sweat on his temples. “Was it hard?”
“A bit,” he admitted. “What’s your name?” He stayed on the bike, one foot propped on the college steps. Their faces were level.
“Valerie. Yours?”
“Alex. Good luck on your exam!” He cycled off.
She watched him go, then hurried inside.
By the time she reached the exam hall, the first few students had already gone in. Others leaned against the walls, cramming from their notes. Valerie tried to steady herself after the bike ride, to focus. The door swung open, and out came a grinning Simon Parker, looking chuffed.
“Top marks?” she asked.
“B-plus,” he said proudly, waving his exam slip.
“Next!” called the lab assistant from inside, eyeing Valerie. “One out, one in. I won’t call twice.”
The students hesitated. Valerie took a deep breath and walked in. She picked a question paper, skimmed the first lines, and knew the answers straight away.
“Number?” the assistant prompted.
“Thirteen.”
“Take a sheet and go prep. Who’s ready?”
“I am,” Valerie blurted.
The assistant’s plucked eyebrow shot up. “Sure? Maybe—”
“I’m sure,” Valerie cut in.
The assistant glanced at the professor, who nodded. Valerie walked to his desk.
Afterward, a girl from her study group asked, “How’d it go?”
“Smashing!” Valerie beamed, barely containing her glee.
“Who’d you get?”
“The professor. He was in a good mood today.” She hurried down the worn iron staircase, her heels clicking cheerfully.
Outside, she spotted Alex waiting by his bike, leaning against a tree. She flew down the steps, barely touching them.
“You didn’t leave?”
“Wanted to see how you did.”
“Aced it!” she grinned.
“Fancy going somewhere?”
“Where?” she blinked. She wasn’t planning to study today, but she hadn’t expected to go off with a stranger either.
“Anywhere. We could hire a boat, catch a film, just walk around.”
“Don’t you work?”
“Got another week off,” he said.
They hired a boat, stopped at a café, then sat in the cool dark of the cinema. By the time Alex walked her home at dusk, Valerie knew she was in love.
“Where’ve you been? I was worried. How’d the exam go?” her mum asked the moment she stepped in. “Out gallivanting when you should be studying. Fail your term, and there goes your grant.”
“I won’t fail,” Valerie promised.
A year later, she and Alex married. He was older, already working. They rented a tiny, peeling flat and were blissfully happy.
Then, eighteen months in, Alex’s dad died of a heart attack—right in the middle of a lecture at the uni. His mum nearly lost her mind with grief, wandering the flat or lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Worried, Alex suggested they move in to care for her. Valerie agreed, of course. She’d come home from college before Alex, cook, clean. His mum would wander into the kitchen, staring at Valerie like she didn’t recognise her.
Valerie shared her suspicions with Alex, who took his mum to hospital. The diagnosis confirmed it—dementia, accelerated by grief. A year later, she was hit by a car. She’d gone to buy Alex’s favourite milk, the kind he drank every day. Valerie and Alex were at work.
Now, they were alone in the big flat. Soon after, their son Nick was born. Life rolled on—arguments, making up, raising Nick—until the storm hit.
Alex had been distant lately, griping that he’d married a slim girl, not a “fat toad.”
“Ever think of a diet? Or the gym? Sort yourself out. Get your nails done, change your hair…”
Valerie knew he wasn’t wrong, but it stung. He wasn’t exactly aging like fine wine himself, with his little belly.
“You know I can’t get acrylics—I’m a dentist, they’d get in the way.”
She fretted he was cheating, but he came home on time, no suspicious trips. Still, unease coiled in her chest.
Before Alex’s birthday, she asked how many guests to expect.
“Didn’t I say? Booked a restaurant this year. The boss hinted at a promotion—invited him and his wife. Can’t look stingy. Loads of people coming.”
Valerie froze. She was a good cook, everyone loved her food. But she didn’t argue. His birthday, his rules. At least she wouldn’t be slaving in the kitchen. But that unease reared up again, like a snake uncoiling.
She bought a new dress, did her hair, put on makeup. Once, Alex would’ve showered her with praise. Now, just a quiet “you look nice.”
The restaurant was packed. Toasts, gifts, the boss praising Alex’s work and announcing his promotion.
Then came dancing. Valerie declined, claiming tiredness. Alex spun some young girl around. Valerie slipped off to the loo, stifling in the heat, wine and rich food making her sweat.
In the stall, the door banged open. High heels clacked.
“Bloody hell, love. Right under his wife’s nose? You said she was a frump, but she’s alright. He won’t leave her—they’ve got a kid.”
“We’ll see,” a younger voice trilled.
The women left. Valerie couldn’t move. Back in the hall, Alex was whispering to some leggy beauty, their cheeks close. Valerie fought tears, slipped out, hailed a cab.
Her mum had Nick for the night. Home, she changed into pyjamas, scrubbed her face, studied her distraught reflection. Mum adored Alex—thought Valerie had hit the jackpot.
Alex came home two hours later, furious. Her dash made him look bad. She’d never heard him rant like that.
“You made yourself look bad. Cheating on me, dancing with her in front of everyone. Promised her you’d leave me? Fine—have your divorce. Go now.”
“No point denying it. Should’ve told you sooner. The flat’s mine, my parents’. So you’re the one leaving. Yana’s pregnant.”
She didn’t know how she stayed calm. Packed a suitcase for her and Nick, called a cab. The whole ride to Mum’s, she felt numb.
Mum opened the door, saw the suitcase, and understood. Over tea, she blamed Valerie: “You fight for a good man, not hand him to some tart. Don’t rob Nick of his dad.”
Valerie didn’t argue. Promised she’d go back Monday, just to end it. But that night, she sobbed into her pillow.
Monday, she asked colleagues if anyone knew of rooms to rent.
A senior nurse pulled her aside. Friends had moved to Australia, leaving their cancer-stricken dad behind. Too ill to fly. They needed a live-in carer, but feared strangers might hasten his death for the flat. They’d promised to sign it over after.
“I’ll do it,” Valerie said at once.
She cut to part-time, three days a week. Now to convince Mum to keep Nick. No place for a boy around death.
Mum exploded. She was retired, liked her space. Didn’t believe the flat promise. “They’ll stiff you, blame you when he dies.”
For days, Mum nagged. Valerie was ready to sleep on the street.
It was gruelling. Dentists aren’t carers. But no rent was a plusShe wiped her eyes, clicked “order” on the children’s sofa, and realized—for the first time in years—she was finally free to build a life entirely her own.
