While youve got a roof over your head at mums, my sister is arriving I announced, pulling my suitcase together.
You cant be serious! Its Tuesday, Lucy has school! she snapped.
Your mother will pick her up after lessons, Ive already sorted it.
Sorted? Without me? Stephen, whats going on?
Natalie stood in the middle of the bedroom, watching me methodically shove her belongings into an old travel case. I pulled sweaters, shirts, jeans from the wardrobe without looking at her, each movement precise, rehearsed as if Id practised this moment a hundred times.
Nothings happening, I answered calmly. Its just that Irene is staying for a week; she needs a spare room. You know she cant stand any noise, and Lucys been blaring music from dawn till dusk.
What does Lucy have to do with this? Irene could stay in a hotel! Or crash on the settee!
I finally met her eyes. There was a coldness there shed never seen before, a detached indifference.
On the sofa? My sister in a hotel? Natalie, are you hearing yourself? This is my house, by the way.
Our house, she whispered.
Mine, I cut in. Bought with my earnings. I decide who lives here.
She felt the lump in her throat tighten. Twentythree years of marriage, twentythree years of running the home, raising our daughter, cooking, cleaning, waiting for me after work. And now I was packing her things as if she were a temporary lodger.
How long? she asked, voice trembling. How long do I have to stay at mums?
A week, maybe two. Irene hasnt decided yet; it depends on how things go.
What things? Shes on holiday!
I slammed the suitcase shut, clicking the locks.
Not your business. Pack up, Ill take you away in an hour.
I left the room, leaving Natalie standing amid the bedroom. She sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the battered case the same one wed taken on our honeymoon. Back then it was shiny, stuffed with my shirts and her dresses. Now it was being used to evict her from the very house shed helped build.
Mum met her at the doorway with a sour expression.
Well, what have you got yourself into?
Mum, please, Natalie muttered, dragging the suitcase into the flat.
How could you say that? I told you hed be trouble. I said it when you were getting married, when we bought the house in his name. Listen to your mother!
Margaret, seventytwo, was a woman of strict rules and even stricter judgments. She kept a sharp mind and a firm character that sometimes seemed excessive to Natalie.
Mum, Ill just stay the night. It wont be long.
Oh, just a night. Ive heard that before. First a week, then a month, and before you know it youre looking at a divorce. My sister is coming, you know which one the one who hasnt been here for five years?
Natalie didnt answer. She slipped into the old bedroom, now turned into a wardrobe and a stack of magazines. The single narrow bed from her youth remained.
Have a cup of tea, Margaret softened. You look pale. No breakfast?
Im not hungry.
Ten minutes later Natalie was sitting at the kitchen table with a strong brew and a sandwich, while Margaret perched opposite, eyeing her closely.
Somethings happened, Margaret said. He wouldnt just throw you out.
He didnt throw me out, he just asked to stay with you.
Natalie, Im seventytwo, but I havent lost my wits. Men dont evict their wives for nothing. Either theres another woman or money troubles.
He doesnt have another.
How do you know? You sit at home all day. Hes at work from nine to five. Did you check his phone?
Mum!
What, Mum? Youre naïve, always have been, always will be.
Natalie finished her tea and stood.
I need to pick up Lucy. Shes out at three.
Stephen promised to collect her.
Ill collect her myself.
Lucy, fifteen, was a carbon copy of Natalie at that age chestnut hair, grey eyes, that stubborn set to her mouth. She left school with friends, laughing, but when she saw her mother, her face fell.
Mum? Wheres dad? He was supposed to pick me up.
Ive decided for us, Natalie said, hugging Lucys shoulders. Lets go and talk.
They walked through an autumn park, Natalie explaining that theyd have to stay with her mother, that Aunt Irene was arriving, that it was only temporary.
He kicked you out, Lucy said flatly.
No, just
Mum, Im fifteen, not five. I get it. Hes thrown you out, and me too.
Lucy, dont say that.
Lucy turned to face her mother.
How else to put it? The truth. Ive noticed hes been acting strangely for a month. He hides his phone, disappears in the evenings. Do you see any of it?
Where?
Im not blind or deaf. Two nights ago he spent an hour in the bathroom talking to someone, thinking we were asleep.
Natalie froze, her legs feeling weak.
What was he saying?
I didnt hear the words, just the tone. He was laughing. When was the last time you heard your father laugh like that?
Natalie stared at the ceiling, unable to recall.
Later that day, Margaret had already made the two beds and cooked dinner.
I love beetroot soup, potatoes, and meat patties, she announced cheerfully. After we eat Ill put on a good film about love.
Gran, Ill stay in my room, Lucy dumped her backpack. Ive got homework.
Homework on a day off? You should be out enjoying yourself!
Lucy slipped away to another room, leaving Natalie alone with her mother.
She gets it, Margaret whispered. Shes sharp, you cant hide anything from her.
They ate in silence. The soup was thick and hearty, just the way only a mother could make. The potatoes were fluffy, the patties juicy, but Natalie swallowed each bite with effort.
Call him, Margaret suddenly said. Ask how hes doing, that his sisters here. Let him know you havent given up.
I dont want to call.
You must. You cant let a man run unchecked.
Natalie didnt call that night, nor the next. She kept busy with chores, helped Margaret, collected Lucy from school. Life seemed to pause, hanging in limbo.
On the third day her friend Olivia rang.
Nat, where have you vanished to? Ive called you a hundred times!
Sorry, my phone was on silent.
Listen, is it true Stephens seeing some other woman?
Natalies heart stopped.
What? Where did you hear that?
Olivia saw them at the new restaurant on Garden Street. She said he was kissing her hand. She thought it was his sister, but said she was young, about thirty.
Which restaurant?
The one on the highstreet, pricey as anything.
Natalie hung up, hands shaking. The truth was there, just as Margaret and Lucy had suspected.
Why are you so pale? Margaret asked, entering the kitchen.
Mum, can I go back home? I need to fetch something.
Margaret gave her a long, searching look.
Go. Just dont make a scene. Find out whats happening first.
Natalie took the bus, trying to calm herself. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe Olivia had misread. But deep down she knew.
Outside her block a sleek, foreign car waited. Natalie climbed the stairs, fumbled with the keys, her hand trembling as she turned the lock.
The flat smelled of expensive perfume, a scent shed never known. Laughter drifted from the lounge, a womans voice.
She slipped off her shoes, slipped into the corridor, and peered into the open doorway.
On the sofa sat a young woman, blonde, immaculate, in a white lab coat, barefoot. Glasses of wine and a plate of fruit lay on the coffee table. Stephen sat beside her, his hand resting gently on her arm, whispering something that made her laugh.
You promised she wouldnt be back for at least a week, the woman said softly.
Shes at your mothers, Stephen replied.
And the daughter?
Shes there too. No worries, love. Its just us.
Natalie stood frozen, the word traitor echoing in her mind.
When will you tell her? the woman asked again.
Soon. First I need to sort the paperwork on the house so she cant claim anything.
Clever, the woman kissed Stephens cheek.
Natalie turned and fled toward the stairs. The keys clattered loudly as she slipped them back into her pocket. Footsteps sounded from the lounge.
Natalie? Stephens voice called, surprised.
She didnt look back, bolting for the stairwell, hearing his shouted curses fade behind her. She ran down, leapt over steps, nearly losing her balance on the landing.
Outside she stalled, gulping air, tears blurring her vision. Passersby glanced her way, but she didnt care.
She didnt get home until dusk. Margaret met her at the door, worry etched on her face.
Whats happened?
Natalie slipped inside, stripped off her coat, and collapsed on the bed. Lucy peeked in, but Margaret waved her away.
An hour later a knock sounded. Margaret opened the door, only to find Stephen standing there, his expression tight.
You shouldnt be here! Margaret snapped.
Natalie, we need to talk, Stephen said, voice strained.
She wont speak to you.
Ill ask myself.
He pushed past Margaret, entering the flat where Natalie lay staring at the ceiling.
Natalie, lets talk, he sat on the edge of the bed.
Go away.
Its not what you think.
Really? she sat up, meeting his gaze. Tell me, Stephen, whats this about?
Irene shes my assistant at work. Shes helping with some paperwork.
In a lab coat? Barefoot? With wine?
He fell silent.
I heard everything, Natalie continued. The papers, the plan to keep me from any claim. Do you think Im a fool?
Natalie
Twentythree years, Stephen. Twentythree years Ive been your wife, raised your child, kept this house running, and you treat me like a guest you can evict.
Shes not a lover!
Not? Then who?
Stephen rose, pacing.
Fine, the truth is as you say. I met Rita six months ago. She works in the office next door. We we hit it off. I didnt intend anything, it just happened.
Just happened, Natalie repeated. Twentythree years didnt happen, then this sudden oops.
You dont understand! I dont feel what I used to. Were like flatmates now. When was the last time you asked about my work? My life?
You came home, ate, went to bed. Whats there to ask?
Exactly! You never tried. And Rita she listens, she gets me.
Shes young and pretty, thats all that matters, Margaret interjected from the doorway. And you, Stephen Whitaker, are just a dogold man.
Margaret, this isnt your business!
How isnt it? Shes my daughter!
And my wife! I have the right to decide who I live with!
You do, Natalie said calmly. Just not in my house.
Stephen smirked.
In yours? Im the registered owner.
We were married for twentythree years. This is joint property.
Prove it. You got the cash for a solicitor? Time for court?
Natalie had no money. She hadnt worked in a decade, devoting herself to home and Lucy.
Thats all Ive got, she said softly.
Stephen walked to the door.
Dont play the victim. Youre to blame for getting us here.
The door slammed. Natalie sat on the bed, staring at nothing. Margaret slipped her arms around Natalies shoulders.
Dont cry, love. Hes not worth it.
But Natalies tears had run dry; only a numb emptiness remained.
The next days were a strange limbo. She collected Lucy from school, helped Margaret with meals, tried to read. Her thoughts kept looping back to one question: what now?
You need a solicitor, Olivia said when they met at a café.
How will I pay?
Ill lend you what I can. You deserve half the house.
Its in his name.
Doesnt matter. You were married when you bought it, that makes it joint.
He says I cant afford a court battle.
You have a right. A good solicitor will prove it.
Natalie wanted to believe, but years with Stephen had taught her not to argue, not to demand. He always called the shotswhere to live, how to spend money, where to holiday.
Mum, Im fed up, Lucy said one evening. I want to go home.
We cant, love.
Why? This is our home! Why are we living here with that that woman and dad?
Because dad decided.
And you? Did you decide too?
Natalie looked at her fifteenyearold daughter, who seemed wiser than many adults.
I dont know what to do.
Then Ill say what we should do. We need to go back and kick her out. This is our house, mums, my, Lucys. Even Grandmas in a way. We lived here, we made it ours, and he just hands it to some stranger!
Lucy
No, Mum! I wont stay silent! Youve always kept quietwhen he shouted at you over undercooked stew, when he forgot your birthday, when he came home drunk at three in the morning. You endured, endured, endured. And this is the outcome!
How do you know all this?
Im not deaf, mum. I heard everything. I saw you weeping in the kitchen, thinking I was asleep.
Natalie hugged her daughter, the first genuine embrace in days, pulling her close.
Im sorry, my love.
No apologies. We need to act.
The next morning Natalie put on a little makeup, slipped on her best coat and a pair of heels. Margaret watched approvingly.
Much better. Where are you off to?
To a solicitor.
Olivia gave her the address of a local solicitor, Marina Peters. Marina welcomed her into a modest office, listened carefully, and made notes.
I see, she said. This is a classic case. He thinks owning the title gives him free reign, but marriage gives you a claim to half.
Ive got no money for court, Natalie began.
First consultation is free. Well file a claim, and if we win, hell cover the costs.
Do you think well win?
I do. The house was bought during the marriage, so its marital property. You also have a minor child, which courts favour.
Natalie left the office feeling a lightness she hadnt felt in months.
But when she walked back to Margarets flat, Lucy was waiting on the doorstep, tears streaming.
Mum, dad called. He said if you dont give up the house, hell strip us of parental rights.
What?
He said youre an unfit mother, that youve abandoned the family, and hell have us separated.
Natalie felt the ground slip away.
Hes bluffing, Margaret said. He wont dare.
But Natalie knew Stephen would do anything to get his way.
That night she lay awake, thinking of the house, Lucy, the future. She realised the home wasnt worth losing her daughter.
In the morning she called Stephen.
Ill keep the house, she said.
He was silent for a moment.
Smart choice, he finally replied. Ill arrange maintenance for Lucy.
I dont need yourShe walked away, her head held high, knowing she had chosen love over property and would rebuild her life on her own terms.
