While Im still living with my mum, my sisters due to arrive, announced my husband as he hefted my suitcase.
You cant be serious! Its Tuesday, Lilys got school!
Your mother will collect her after lessons, Ive already arranged it.
Arranged? Without me? James, whats happening?
Emma stood in the middle of the bedroom, watching James methodically shove her belongings into an old travel case. He rummaged through the wardrobe for sweaters, shirts, jeans, never looking at her. His motions were precise, rehearsed, as if hed practised this scene a hundred times.
Nothing out of the ordinary, he replied calmly. Irene is staying with us for a week; she needs her own room. You know she cant stand any noise. And Lilys been blasting music from dawn till dusk.
What does Lily have to do with it? Irene could book a hotel! Or crash on the sofa!
James finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. In his eyes Emma saw something shed never noticed before a chill, a detachment.
On the sofa? My sister in a hotel? Emma, are you hearing yourself? This is my house, mind you.
Our house, she whispered.
Mine, he cut in. Bought with my money. I decide who lives here.
Emma felt the lump in her throat tighten. Twentythree years of marriage. Twentythree years of keeping this house, raising a daughter, cooking, cleaning, waiting for him to come home. And now he was packing her things into a suitcase as if she were a temporary lodger.
How long? she asked, voice trembling. How long do I have to stay with my mum?
A week, maybe two. Irene hasnt decided yet. It depends on how things go.
What things? Shes on holiday!
James slammed the suitcase shut, fastening the locks.
Not your business. Pack up, Ill drive you out in an hour.
He left the room, leaving Emma alone in the bedroom. She sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the battered case the very one theyd taken on their honeymoon. Back then it was new, gleaming, packed with her dresses and his shirts. Now it was being used to evict her from her own home.
Her mother met her at the front door with a sour expression.
Well, look who finally showed up.
Mum, please, Emma said, dragging the suitcase into the flat.
How can I not? I told you what would happen. I said it when you married, I said it when we bought the house in his name. Listen to your mother!
Margaret Thompson was a woman of strict rules and even stricter judgments. At seventytwo she still possessed a sharp mind and a hard edge that Emma sometimes found excessive.
Mum, Ill just stay the night. It wont be long.
Oh, just a night. Ive heard that one before. First a week, then a month, then youre filing for divorce. Your sisters here, you know. Which sister? The one who last visited five years ago?
Emma didnt answer. She walked into her old bedroom, now serving as Margarets wardrobe and a stash for magazines. The narrow single bed that had cradled her through her youth was still there.
Have a cup of tea, Margaret softened. You look pale. No breakfast yet?
Im not hungry.
Ten minutes later Emma found herself at the kitchen table with a strong mug of tea and a slice of toast. Margaret sat opposite, watching her closely.
Somethings happened, she observed. He wouldnt just throw you out like that.
He didnt throw me out, he just asked to stay with you.
Emma, Im seventytwo, but Im not out of my mind. Men dont evict their wives without reason. Either theres someone else, or theres money trouble.
He doesnt have anyone else.
How do you know? You sit at home all day. Hes at work from dawn till dusk. Did you check his phone?
Mum!
What, mum? Youre so naïve. Always have been, always will be.
Emma finished her tea and rose.
I need to pick Lily up. Shes due out at three.
James promised to collect her.
Ill get her myself.
Lily, fifteen, was a mirror of Emma at that age chestnut hair, grey eyes, the same stubborn set to her mouth. She burst out of school with friends, laughing, but when she saw her mother, her expression hardened.
Mum? Wheres dad? He was supposed to pick me up.
Ive decided to take you, Emma said, hugging Lilys shoulders. Lets go and talk.
They walked through an autumn park, and Emma explained the need to stay with her mother, that Aunt Irene was coming, and that it was only temporary.
He kicked you out, Lily said evenly.
No, just
Mum, Im fifteen, not five. I get it. Hes thrown you out, and me too.
Lily, dont say that.
Lily turned to face her mother.
How else should I say it? The truth? Mum, Ive noticed hes been acting strange for a month. He hides his phone, disappears in the evenings. Do you see any of it?
From where
Im not blind or deaf. Two nights ago he spent an hour in the bathroom talking to someone, thinking we were asleep.
Emma stopped dead, her legs feeling weak.
What was he talking about?
I didnt hear the words, just the tone. He was laughing. When was the last time you heard your dad laugh like that?
Emma was silent. She truly couldnt recall.
In Margarets flat they found both beds made, dinner already prepared.
I love borscht, potatoes with meatballs, Margaret announced cheerily. Well eat now, then Ill put on a good film about love.
Gran, Ill stay in my room, Lily dropped her backpack. I have homework.
Homework on a day off? You should be out relaxing!
Lily slipped into the next room, leaving Emma alone with her mother.
She gets everything, Margaret whispered. The girls clever. You cant hide anything from her.
They ate in silence. The borscht was thick and hearty, just as only a mother could make, the potatoes fluffy, the meatballs juicy. Emma forced down each bite.
Call him, Margaret blurted out suddenly. Ask how hes doing, why his sister is here. Let him know you havent given up.
I dont want to call.
You must. You cant let a man run unchecked.
Emma didnt call that night, nor the next. She kept herself busy, helping Margaret, picking Lily up from school, trying to keep life moving.
On the third day a friend, Sarah, rang.
Emma, where have you vanished to? Ive called a hundred times!
Sorry, my phone was on silent.
Listen, is it true James is seeing some other woman?
Emma froze.
What? Where did you hear that?
Sasha saw them at the new place on Garden Street. They were sitting together, he was kissing her hand. I thought it was his sister, but Sasha said she was young, about thirty, not older.
Which restaurant?
The pricey one on Grove Avenue. The one we said wed never step foot in.
Emma hung up, hands shaking. The truth rang loud. Her mother had been right, Lily had been right. He had someone else.
Why are you so pale? Margaret asked, entering the kitchen.
Mum, can I move back home? I need to get something.
Margaret gave her a long, searching look.
Go. Just dont make a fuss. First, find out whats really going on.
Emma rode the bus, trying to steady her thoughts. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe Sarah had mixed up the details. But deep down she knew it was real.
A sleek white foreign car was parked by the block. Emma climbed the stairs, fumbled with her keys, her hand trembling as she turned the lock.
The flat smelled of expensive perfume, sharp and unfamiliar. Laughter drifted from the living room, a womans giggle.
Emma slipped off her shoes and crept down the hallway. The door to the lounge was ajar.
There, on the sofa, sat a young woman with long blond hair, barefoot in a white robe. Glasses of wine and a bowl of fruit sat on the coffee table.
Next to her, James was stroking her arm, speaking softly. She laughed, nestling closer.
You promised she wouldnt be back for a week, a gentle voice said to Emma.
She wont be back, I checked. Shes at your mothers.
And the daughter?
Shes there too. Dont worry, love. Its just us.
Emma stood frozen, her legs refusing to move. The word traitor echoed in her mind.
When will you tell her? the woman asked.
Soon. First I need to sort the paperwork on the house so she cant claim anything.
Clever, the woman kissed James on the cheek.
Emma turned and fled toward the stairs. She didnt look back. James shout was muffled as she burst out, sprinting down the stairwell, leaping over steps, barely keeping her balance.
Outside she stopped, gasping for breath, tears blurring her vision. Passersby glanced her way, but she didnt care.
She didnt get home until evening. Margaret met her at the door, worry etched on her face.
What happened?
Emma slipped into the flat, stripped off her coat, and collapsed onto the bed. Lily peeked in, but Margaret waved her away.
An hour later the door burst open. Margaret stared at the woman at the threshold.
Youre not welcome here!
Margaret Thompson, I need to speak to Emma, James voice trembled with tension.
She wont talk to you.
Ill ask myself.
He pushed past Margaret, ignoring her protests. Emma lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Emma, lets talk, he sat on the edge.
Go away.
Its not what you think.
Really? she sat up, meeting his eyes. Explain yourself, please.
Irene shes my work assistant. Shes here to help with some paperwork.
In a white robe? Barefoot? With wine?
He fell silent.
I heard everything, Emma continued. The papers on the house, the plan to keep me from anything. You think Im a fool?
Emma
Twentythree years, James. Twentythree years Ive been your wife, raised your child, kept the home. And you treat me like a tenant you can evict for a lover?
Shes not a lover!
Not? Then who?
James rose, pacing the room.
Fine, Ill be honest. I met Rita six months ago. She works in the office next door. We got together. It wasnt planned.
Just happened, Emma repeated. Twentythree years didnt just disappear, and then all of a sudden, just happened.
You dont understand! I dont feel the way I used to. Were like flatmates now. When was the last time you asked about my work? My life?
You came home, ate, and went to bed. Whats there to ask?
Exactly! You never tried. Rita she listens, she understands.
Margaret, still standing in the doorway, interjected.
Shes young and pretty, thats all that matters, isnt it? she said sharply. And you, James Thompson, are just a commonplace bloke. Sorry, but thats the truth.
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, Emma said calmly. Just not in my house.
James smirked.
In your house? Emma, the title is in my name. Im the sole owner.
We were married twentythree years. Thats joint property.
Prove it. You got the money for a solicitor? Time to go to court?
Emma had no money. She hadnt worked in ten years, spending her days on the house and Lily.
Thats exactly my point, James said, heading for the door. Stop playing the victim. Youre the one who let it get this far.
The door slammed shut. Emma stared at the empty space, Margarets hand on her shoulder.
Dont cry, love. Hes not worth it.
Emmas tears had dried; only a numb emptiness remained.
The following days drifted in a strange limbo. She collected Lily from school, cooked meals with Margaret, tried to read. Her thoughts kept looping back to one question: what now?
You need a solicitor, Sarah said when they met at a café.
How will I pay?
Ill loan you the money. You deserve half the assets.
The house is in his name.
It doesnt matter. You were married when you bought it. Its joint.
He says I cant afford a court.
You have a right. A good solicitor will prove it.
Emma wanted to believe, but years with James had taught her not to argue, not to push. He had always made the decisions where to live, how to spend money, where to go on holiday.
Mum, Im fed up, Lily said one evening. I want to go back 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?
Emma looked at her daughter, who at fifteen seemed wiser than many adults.
I dont know what to do.
Then Ill say this: we need to go in there and kick her out. This is our house, mums too, and grandmas in a way. We lived here, we made it ours, and he just handed it over to some stranger!
Lily
No, Mum! I wont stay silent! Youve spent your whole life quiet. When he shouted at you for undercooked soup, when he forgot your birthday, when he came home drunk at three in the morning. You endured, endured, endured. And this is the result!
How do you know all that?
Im not deaf, Mum. I heard everything. I saw you crying in the kitchen, thinking I was asleep.
Emma hugged her daughter, the first real embrace shed felt in days, pressing her close.
Im sorry, sweetheart.
No need to apologise. We need to act.
The next morning Emma, for the first time in a week, put on makeup, a smart coat, and heels. Margaret gave her an approving nod.
Much better. Where are you off to?
To a solicitor.
Sarah gave her the address of a local barrister. Marina Patel welcomed her in a modest office, listened intently.
I see, she said, noting things. This is a classic case. He thinks because the title is in his name he can do whatever, but the law treats a home bought during marriage as joint. You also have a minor child, which works in your favour.
I have no money for a trial, Emma began.
The 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 purchased in the marriage, so its marital property.
Emma left the solicitors office feeling a lightness she hadnt felt for years. Hope flickered.
But when she got back to Margarets flat, hope shattered. Lily stood at the doorway, tears streaming.
Mum, dad called. He said if you dont give up the house hell apply to strip us of parental rights.
What?
He said youre an unfit mother, that you abandoned the family, and that hell have us separated.
Emma felt the ground drop beneath her.
Hes bluffing, Margaret said. He wont dare.
But Emma knew he would. James always got his way, noShe turned her back on the empty house, took Lily’s hand, and walked toward a future where love and dignity mattered more than any brick or deed.
