Laura is cooking dinner. Peter, her husband, has asked for seafood pasta. After work she darts into the local supermarket, grabs everything on the list and starts cooking alone. Peter is delayed but arrives at the door clutching a bunch of roses.
Laura, meet the exhausted husband! he shouts cheerfully as he steps inside.
Laura laughs, takes the flowers and puts them in a vase.
After they eat, they settle on the sofa, chat about the days hassles and watch a film. They have been married for over ten years; the early passion has settled into a comfortable warmth. Together they run a small importexport business Laura deals with suppliers, Peter finds buyers and handles the accounts. They live in a nice flat in London, a fullbodied life. Children? No, they havent thought about that yet; perhaps when theyre nearer forty.
A few weeks ago Laura rescued a scruffy little kitten from the street. Peter objected straight away.
Whats this stray youve brought home? Take it back to the shelter. If you want a cat, get a pedigree a British Shorthair is all the rage now. Not this gutterscraper, he complained.
Laura had already grown attached and the grey striped kitten, now named Whiskers, becomes her tail. Peter cant stand him; the dislike is mutual. At night Peter might nudge the cat, and Whiskers retaliates by curling up on his trousers, shedding fur, or sharpening his claws on Peters sweater.
Ill throw this cat out. Its ruining my clothes, Peter hisses.
Laura protests, Dont fling things around. Put them away. Whiskers doesnt like that.
The name is nonsense Whiskers, Peter grumbles, his eyes narrowing at the cats eerie green stare.
For a whole year a silent war rages between husband and cat. Lately Peters irritation spikes; whenever Whiskers appears, Peter raises his voice, Whats he doing here? Hell cause trouble.
Laura tries to soothe him, Pete, calm down. The cat is just minding his own business. Hes not a menace.
Hes annoying me. Can we give him away? Peter asks.
Im not giving him away. Hes mine, Laura replies.
Over the months Whiskers grows huge, handsome and plush.
One Saturday Laura does a thorough cleaning. Peter is away on a Thursday business trip to Manchester and wont be back until Sunday. She washes everything, dusts the flat, and notices Whiskers pawing at a cabinet. What are you up to, you little thief? she says, scooping him up.
She pulls a folder from a gap in the shelving. Inside are receipts for hotel stays, shortbreak holidays, expensive jewellery, airline tickets, and a car purchase contract. The car is registered to a woman called Natalie, but the payment was made by Peter. Some of the papers bear Peters notes. He has a habit of collecting receipts and later channeling the money through the company.
Lauras stomach drops. She flips through the documents, feeling the urge to tear them up, to scream, to call Peter immediately, but she holds back. Whiskers circles, then jumps onto the folder.
You saw this, didnt you? Laura says quietly, her voice trembling.
The cat rubs against her, purring a soothing tune that steadies her nerves.
Yes, Whiskers, youre right. I should think before I act, she murmurs, copying every receipt and contract.
That evening she searches social media for the cars owner and finds a young woman posing with a brandnew red car, captioned gift from my love. The photo shows only hands and a back, but Laura recognises the hands they belong to Peters lover. It becomes clear Peter has been spending the couples money on an affair.
Peter returns Sunday night, as usual with flowers in hand.
Why arent you greeting your husband? he jokes as he steps inside.
Laura, eyes red and swollen, replies, Ive got a cold, my head hurts.
Peter eats his dinner. Laura retires to a spare bedroom.
Should we call a doctor? Peter asks.
No, Ill rest. Ive already taken some medicine, she answers.
Peter falls asleep, leaving his phone on the kitchen counter. Laura picks it up, something she has never done before, and scrolls through his messages and chats. All her suspicions are confirmed. That night Peter texts his lover, Missing you. Lets meet Tuesday.
On Monday Laura sends Peter off to work, claiming shes ill and will stay at the cottage. She gathers the documents and visits a solicitor.
She files for divorce and a financial settlement, telling Peter, I think Ive caught a bad flu. Ill spend some time at the country house. She continues to commute to work once a week, handling her supplier duties from there.
When Peter receives the court papers, it hits him like a bolt from a clear sky. He rushes to Lauras flat, shouting, What are you doing? Weve been together for years. Ive done everything for you.
Ive fallen out of love, Laura says calmly. Well see each other in court.
She keeps silent about the lover. In court she produces the receipts and the car contract; Peter is stunned.
The judge asks, Did you really spend such sums on a lover? Did you buy her a car?
Yes I did, Peter admits, looking embarrassed.
Lauras solicitor secures a division of the assets: half of the business, a substantial cash sum, and the cottage for Laura, while Peter keeps the flat. The cars remain with their respective owners. She also recovers half of the money spent on the affair, arguing it was family money.
Before the divorce is final, Laura moves several suppliers to a new company and takes over both sales and finance herself. It proves more secure. She, Peter and Whiskers each go their own way. The business thrives under her sole control.
Peter is left angry, watching his exwife become a competitor. His income drops, his new romance brings no comfortjust occasional dates before he returns to an empty flat. The onceshared life is now a memory.
