**The Crocodile Handbag**
Saturday dawned quiet and grey, a soft mist clinging to the windowpanes as droplets traced lazy paths downward. The flat carried the comforting scent of freshly brewed tea, that rare Saturday hush settling in after a long week. Eleanor sank into the threadbare armchairthe one passed down from her grandmother, its cushions sagging with ageand cradled her favourite mug. The warmth seeped into her fingers, a small comfort.
This, she thought, was peace. No chatter about work, no endless talk of money or how it was “high time” for this or that. Just her, the tea, and the latest episode on her tablet.
These quiet moments had become her refuge. Edward, her husband, had been jobless for months, and the flat had slowly turned into a battleground of silent resentment. He spent his days glued to the computergames, football, the occasional half-hearted job search.
“Love!” Edwards voice shattered the stillness like a firework. “Youll never guessMums picked out her anniversary gift!”
He burst in, grinning like a boy whod won a prize. Eleanor lowered her tablet, suspicion prickling at the back of her neck. His tone was too bright, too eager.
“A crocodile handbag!” he announced, oblivious. “Shes wanted one for years!”
Eleanor set her mug down carefully, her gaze sharpening.
“A crocodile handbag? Did she choose it herself, or was it suggested? And did she consider how activists might feel about it?”
The sarcasm rolled right off him.
“Shes my mother! She deserves something nice!”
“Deserves it?” Something coiled tight in her chest. “What exactly has she done to earn it? Raised you, yesbut thats not my debt. And how much is this gift?”
Edward coughed, suddenly fascinated by the floor.
“Oh, hardly anything about five of your monthly wages.”
The room tilted.
“Five of my wages?” Eleanor repeated, her voice dangerously flat.
“Well, its genuine Nile crocodile, not some cheap imitation,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“And why tell me? Ive no interest in it.”
Edward shifted, avoiding her eyes.
“Well I put it on credit.”
“On credit?” Her tone could have frozen water.
“Mm. Thank goodness for Lucyshe sorted it quickly. You know she works at the bank”
“And whose name is it in?”
A cold dread settled in her stomach.
“Well yours. Who else? I just used your details”
Eleanor stood, slow and deliberate. She wanted to throttle him. Or at least hurl something heavy.
“So, Edward dear, youve been out of work for months, decided to spoil your mother, and now Im footing the bill?”
He took an instinctive step back, sensing the storm brewing.
“Ellie, its just how it worked out Youre the only one earning”
“I *am* earning! While you sit about like a schoolboy on holiday, expecting me to fund your generosity?”
“Ellie, dont overreact! Its just a loanhardly the end of the world!”
Just then, his mother, Margaret, swept inostensibly to visit, though her arrivals always came with a barrage of complaints.
“Whats all this noise?” she demanded, planting herself in a chair like a queen on her throne.
“Nothing, Mum. Ellies just upset about the loan,” Edward muttered.
“Upset? Why?” Margaret sniffed. “Family helps family. Its your duty.”
“Is it?” Eleanors smile was razor-thin. “My duty to fund luxuries, while yours is to demand them?”
“Really, dear, youre being dramatic. You earn well enough.”
“And Edward? What does he do?”
“Edward is my sonand your husband. You should support him.”
“Husband?” Eleanor laughed. “Is that what you call a man who takes loans in his wifes name because he cant be bothered to work? Who clings to me like a barnacle?”
“Ellie!” Edward spluttered. “Thats cruel! Were a family!”
“Fine,” she said, lips pressed tight. “Ill sort it tomorrow. And dont worryitll all be fair.”
Her smile was odd, private, and it sent a shiver down Edwards spine. She already knew exactly how to settle things.
The next day, between work and calls, Eleanor arranged a meeting. That evening, she greeted Edward with a sweetness that should have warned him.
“Darling! Ive news for you!”
“Oh?” He lounged on the sofa, unsuspecting.
“Ive paid off the loan for that crocodile handbag.”
“What? Really?” He bolted upright. “Youre amazing! How?”
“Simple. I sold your car.”
Edward went white.
“Youwhat? You *sold* it?”
“Mm. Quick sale, just enough to clear the debt.”
“Have you lost your mind? How am I supposed to get about?”
Eleanor blinked innocently.
“Ride the handbag like a pony. I read some are made from special leather. Stroked right, they turn into saddles. Is your mothers one of those?”
Edward turned puce.
“You cant do this! That was *my* car! And you sold it for scraps!”
“Well, now youre car-free, Im debt-free, and your mother has her bag. Fair trade, dont you think?”
Margaret stormed in, drawn by the uproar.
“What on earth is happening?”
“Ellie sold my car!” Edward wailed.
“And rightly so,” Eleanor said coolly. “After all, loans are a family matter. Isnt that what you said?”
“This is *outrageous*! You had no right!” Margaret spluttered.
“Funnyneither did you when you took a loan in my name.” Eleanor tilted her head. “Consider us even.”
“This is unacceptable! The sheer *audacity*!” Margarets glare could have melted steel.
“Unacceptable is treating me like a walking wallet.”
Edward tried one last plea.
“Ellie, think! Were a familywe stick together!”
“Then heres my offer: since youre the least useful member, pack your things and move in with your mother. Let her fund your leisure. Ill finally live for myself.”
She picked up her tablet, the dismissal clear. After a beat, she added, sweet as poison:
“Oh, and Margaretdo stroke that bag gently. You never know what might happen.”
Two days later, Edward, worn down by the cold war, slunk off to his mothers. Margarets disapproval was blistering. Eleanor ignored her.
For the first time in ages, the air felt light. And she knewtheyd finally learned. She wasnt one to be trifled with.
Outside, the drizzle still fell, but now the quiet was hers alone.
