**The Crocodile Handbag**
Saturday drifted by in a quiet haze. A soft drizzle traced crooked paths down the windowpanes, and the flat carried the scent of freshly brewed tea and that peculiar Saturday stillnessthe kind where the weeks exhaustion finally melts away. Emily curled into the old armchair, the one theyd inherited from Gran, its cushions sagging from years of use. She cradled her favourite mug, letting the warmth seep into her fingers.
*This is peace*, she thought, inhaling the teas fragrance. No chatter, no talk of work or money, no nagging about how its about time for this or that. Just her, a hot drink, and a new series on her tablet.
These quiet moments had become her sanctuary lately. Jack, her husband, had been out of work for three months, and the house had slowly turned into a silent battleground. He spent his days glued to the computergaming, watching footie, supposedly job-hunting, though the screen rarely showed anything resembling a job site.
Love! Jacks voice shattered the silence like a firework. You wont believe it! Mums picked her own anniversary present!
He bounded into the room, grinning like a boy whod just scored top marks. Emily peeled her eyes from the screen, something in his tone setting off alarms.
A crocodile-skin handbag! Jack prattled on, oblivious. Shes wanted one for ages!
Emily set her mug down carefully, narrowing her eyes.
A crocodile handbag? Did she choose that herself, or was it suggested? And has she considered what the animal rights lot might say?
The sarcasm sailed right past him.
Shes my mum! She deserves it!
Deserves it? Emily felt something twist inside. What exactly has she done to earn it? Fineshe raised *you*. But Ive got my own parents. And how much is this gift costing?
Jack coughed, suddenly sheepish.
Oh, barely anything About five of your paycheques.
Emilys stomach dropped.
*Five* paycheques? she repeated, voice dangerously flat.
Well, yeah, its *Nile* crocodile, not some fake stuff, he said, as if that explained everything.
And why are you telling me this? I couldnt care less.
Jack fidgeted, avoiding her gaze.
Well I put it on credit.
On credit? Her voice was icy.
Yeah. Cheers to my sister Lucyshe sorted it. Works at the bank, got it done in no time
And whose names on the loan?
A horrible suspicion crept over her.
Well yours. Obviously. Just used your paperwork
Emily stood slowly, fists clenched. She wanted to throttle him. Or at least hurl something heavy.
So, Jack, darlingyoure jobless, buying Mummy a present, and *Im* footing the bill?
He took an instinctive step back, sensing the storm brewing.
Em, it just happened that way Youre the one working
*I* work! And instead of job-hunting, instead of pulling your weight like a proper husband, you laze about like a schoolboy on holiday and think I need *more* problems?
Em, dont overreact! Its just a loan
Just then, his mother, Margaret, swept inher usual unannounced visit. She always came to see the kids, though really, it was to dispense criticism.
Whats all the shouting? she demanded, settling into a chair like she owned the place.
Nothing, Mum. Ems just wound up about the loan, Jack whined.
Whats there to be wound up about? Margaret sniffed. Family helps family. Thats your duty.
Is it? Emilys smile was razor-thin. So *your* duty is to pick pricey gifts, and *mine* is to pay?
Well, youve got a good salary, Margaret said airily.
I see. And Jack? Whats *his* contribution?
Jacks my sonand your *husband*. You should stand by him.
Husband? Emily laughed. Is that what you call a man who takes loans in his wifes name because he cant be bothered to lift a finger? Whos leeching off me like a bloody parasite?
Emily! Jack sputtered. Thats out of order! Were *family*!
Fine, Emily said tightly. Ill sort it tomorrow. And dont worry*everything* will be just fine.
She smiled oddly, and something in that smile made Jack uneasy. Truth was, Emily already had a plan.
Good girl, Margaret nodded approvingly.
The next day, Emily workedand made a few calls. By evening, shed arranged a meeting.
When she returned home, she greeted Jack with a saccharine smile.
Darling! News for you!
Oh? He looked up, clueless.
Ive paid off that loan for the crocodile bag.
No way! Jack nearly leapt off the sofa. Youre a star! Howd you manage it?
Simple. I sold your car.
Jack went rigid.
You*what*? The *car*?
Sold it. Quick and cheap. Covered the loan nicely.
Have you lost your mind? How am I supposed to get around?
Emily blinked innocently.
Ride the crocodile bag like a pony. I read some are made from *special* leather. Turns into a suitcase if you stroke it right. Your mums isnt one of those, is it?
She bit back a laugh. Jack turned puce.
You cant do that! Tell me youre joking! That was *my* car!
Now youve no car, Ive no debt, and your mums got her bag. Fair trade, yeah?
Margaret rushed in, drawn by the shouting.
Whats happened now?
MumEms sold my *car*! Jack wailed.
So? Emily shrugged. Loans are a *family matter*, arent they?
This is *madness*! You had no rightits *his*! Margaret snapped.
Did you ask before taking a loan in *my* name? Emilys chin lifted. Consider this payback.
Outrageous! Who does she think she is? Margaret spat.
Outrageous is you two treating me like a walking ATM, Emily shot back.
Jack tried to intervene.
Em, think! Were *family*!
Family? Then heres an ideasince youre the dead weight, pack your bags and move in with Mum. Let *her* fund your laziness. Im done.
Emily picked up her tablet, signalling the conversation was over. After a beat, she added sweetly:
Oh, and Margaretgive that bag a *gentle* stroke. You might be surprised.
Two days later, Jack, worn down by the tension, moved out. Margaret seethed, but Emily ignored her.
For the first time in ages, she felt light. And one thing was cleartheyd finally learned: she wasnt to be crossed.
Outside, the drizzle carried on, but now, the Saturday silence was truly hers.
