While youre still living with Mum, my sister is coming over, announced my husband as he packed my suitcase.
You cant be serious! Its Tuesday, Emilys school!
Your mother will collect her after lessons, Ive already arranged it.
Arranged? Without me? Simon, whats happening?
Natalie stood in the middle of the bedroom, watching her husband methodically shove her belongings into an old travel case. He pulled sweaters, shirts, jeans from the wardrobe without even glancing at her. His motions were precise, rehearsed, as if hed rehearsed this exact scene.
Nothings happening, he replied calmly. Its just that Irene is staying for a week; she needs her own room. You know she cant stand noise, and Emily has been buzzing from dawn till dusk, music blaring.
And what does Emily have to do with it? Irene could stay in a hotel! Or sleep on the sofa!
Simon finally met her eyes. In them she saw something shed never noticed beforedetachment, a cold indifference.
On the sofa? My sister in a hotel? Natalie, are you hearing yourself? This is my house, by the way.
Our house, she corrected softly.
Mine, he snapped. Bought with my money. I decide who lives here.
A tightness rose in Natalies throat. Twentythree years of marriage. Twentythree years of keeping this home, raising a daughter, cooking, cleaning, waiting for him after work. And now he was packing her things as if she were a temporary lodger.
How long? she asked, voice trembling. How long must I stay with Mum?
A week, maybe two. Irene hasnt decided yet. It depends on how things go.
What things? Shes on holiday!
Simon slammed the suitcase shut, clicking the locks.
Not your business. Pack up, Ill take you out in an hour.
He left the room, leaving Natalie alone on the floor of the bedroom. She sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the battered casethe very one theyd taken on their honeymoon. Back then it had been gleaming, stuffed 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, a sour line on her face.
Well, look whos finally back, love?
Mum, please, Natalie whispered, dragging the suitcase inside.
How could I not? I told you what would happen. I said it when you married, when we bought the house in his name. You should have listened to your mother!
Margaret, seventytwo, was a woman of rigid rules and even stricter judgments. Even at her age she kept a clear mind and a hard edge that sometimes seemed excessive to Natalie.
Mum, Ill just spend the night. It wont be long.
Oh, just a night. Ive heard that one before. First a week, then a month, and before you know it youre filing for divorce. Your sisters here, you know. Which sister? The one who last visited five years ago?
Natalie didnt answer. She slipped into the old bedroom that now served as her mothers wardrobe and magazine stash. The single narrow bed, the one shed slept in as a teenager, remained.
Have a cuppa, love, Margaret softened. You look pale. No breakfast?
Im not hungry.
Ten minutes later Natalie was at the kitchen table with a strong coffee and a toast, Margaret opposite her, studying her closely.
Somethings gone wrong, Margaret said. He wouldnt just push you out.
He didnt push me out, he asked to stay with you.
Natalie, Im seventytwo, but Im not losing my mind. Men dont throw wives out of the house for no reason. Either theres someone else, or money troubles.
He has no one 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 naive. Always have been, always will be.
Natalie finished her coffee and stood.
I need to pick up Emily. She leaves at three.
Simon promised to collect her.
Ill do it myself.
Emily, a mirror of Natalie at fifteenchestnut hair, grey eyes, that stubborn set of the mouthburst out of school with friends, laughing, but when she saw her mother her face fell.
Mum? Wheres Dad? He was supposed to pick me up.
I decided for myself, Natalie said, hugging her daughters shoulders. Come, lets talk.
They walked through an ambercoloured park as Natalie explained the plan: staying with Granny, Irenes arrival, the just a short while excuse.
He drove you out, Emily said flatly.
No, its just
Mum, Im fifteen, not five. I understand. He drove you out, and me too.
Emily, dont say that.
Emily turned to face her mother.
How else to put it? The truth. Ive noticed hes been acting oddly for a monthhiding his phone, disappearing at night. Do you see it?
From where
Im not blind, not deaf. Two nights ago he spent an hour in the bathroom talking to someone, thinking we were asleep.
Natalie froze. Her legs felt like jelly.
What was he saying?
I didnt catch the words, just the tone. He was laughing. When was the last time you heard Dad laugh like that?
Natalie was silent; she truly could not remember.
In her mothers flat they found Margaret already having made two beds and a dinner.
I love borscht, love roast potatoes with meat pies, she announced cheerily. Lets eat, then Ill put on a good film about love.
Gran, Id rather stay in my room, Emily dropped her backpack. Ive got homework.
Homework on a day off? You should be relaxing!
Emily slipped away to another room, leaving Natalie alone with her mother.
She understands everything, Margaret whispered. The girl is clever; you cant hide from her.
They ate in silence. The borscht was thick, the potatoes fluffy, the meat pies juicyjust as Margaret could make. Natalie forced herself to swallow.
Give him a call, Margaret said suddenly. Ask how hes doing, ask about his sister. Show you havent given up.
I dont want to call.
You must. A man cant be left unchecked.
Natalie didnt call that night, nor the next. She went through the motionshelping Margaret, picking Emily up from school, living in a suspended limbo.
On the third day her friend Claire phoned.
Nat, where have you vanished to? Ive called you a hundred times!
Sorry, my phone was on silent.
Listen, is it true Simons with some other woman?
Natalies heart stopped.
What? Where did you hear that
Claire saw them in that new restaurant on Garden Street. They were sitting together, he was kissing her hand. I thought it might be his sister, but Claire said she was young, maybe thirty.
Which restaurant?
The pricey one on the corner; wed never set foot there.
Natalie hung up, hands shaking. The truth seemed to settle like a stone. Her mother had been right; Emily had been right. He had someone else.
Why are you so pale? Margaret asked, entering the kitchen.
Mum, can I go back home? I need to fetch something.
Margaret stared at her for a long moment.
Go, but dont cause a scene. First, suss out the situation.
Natalie rode the bus, trying to steady herself. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe Claire had misread. Deep down she knew it was true.
A sleek white foreign car idled outside her block. She climbed the stairs, fingers trembling as she slid the key into the lock.
The flat smelled of expensive perfume, something shed never worn. From the living room came a womans laughter.
She slipped off her shoes and crept down the hallway. The lounge door was ajar.
On the sofa sat a young woman, blonde, immaculate, in a white frock, barefoot. Glasses of wine and a platter of fruit lay on the table.
Simon lounged beside her, his hand sliding over her arm, whispering. She giggled, nestling close.
You promised she wouldnt be back for at least a week, a soft voice said to Natalie.
She wont, Ive checked. Shes with you, mum.
And the daughter?
Shes there too. Dont worry, love. Its just us.
Natalie stood frozen; her legs refused to move. In her mind the word repeated: betrayer. Betrayer. Betrayer.
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.
Youre clever, the woman kissed Simon on the cheek.
Natalie turned and fled toward the exit. She had to leave, now, before they saw her. The keys clanged betraying her as she slipped on her shoes. Footsteps thundered from the lounge.
Natalie? Simons voice sounded surprised.
She didnt look back. She slammed the door and bolted down the stairs, leaping over steps, nearly tumbling at the landings. Behind her Simon shouted, but she didnt hear.
Outside she stopped, gasping for breath, tears streaming. Passersby turned, but she cared not.
She didnt return home until nightfall. Margaret met her at the door, eyes wide with worry.
What happened? Are you alright?
Natalie slipped inside, stripped off her coat, and collapsed onto the bed. Emily peeked in, but Margaret waved her away.
An hour later a knock sounded at the door. Margaret opened it, then tried to shut it again.
You mustnt come in!
Margaret, I need to speak with Natalie, Simons voice was strained.
She wont talk to you.
Ill ask myself.
He pushed past the matriarch and entered. Natalie lay staring at the ceiling.
Natalie, lets talk, he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Leave.
Its not what you think.
Really? she sat up, meeting his gaze. Tell me then, Simon. Explain.
Irene shes my work assistant. Shes here to help with paperwork.
In a white frock? Barefoot? With wine?
He remained silent.
I heard everything, Natalie went on. About the papers, about keeping the house from me. You think Im a fool?
Natalie
Twentythree years, Simon. Twentythree years I was your wife, raised your child, kept your home. And you treat me like a guest you can kick out for a lover?
She isnt a lover!
Then who?
Simon rose, pacing.
Fine, Ill be honest. I met Ruth six months ago. She works in the building next door. We got together. I didnt plan it; it just happened.
Just happened, Natalie repeated. Twentythree years didnt just happen, and now it does in a flash.
You dont understand! I dont feel what I used to. Were like flatmates. When was the last time you asked about my work? My affairs?
You came home, ate, went to bed. What else?
Exactly! You never tried. Ruth she listens, she gets me.
Shes young and beautiful, thats all, Margaret interjected from the doorway. And you, Simon Whitaker, are just a brute. 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 have that right, Natalie said calmly. Just not in my house.
Simon smirked.
In your house? Im the registered owner. The sole proprietor.
We were married twentythree years. Thats joint property.
Prove it. Do you have money for a solicitor? Time for courts?
Natalie was silent. She had no savings; ten years of unpaid domestic work left her penniless.
Exactly, Simon said, heading for the door. So stop playing the victim. You brought this on yourself.
The door slammed. Natalie remained on the bed, staring into emptiness. Margaret wrapped an arm around her.
Dont cry, love. Hes not worth it.
Natalies tears had run dry; only a numb stillness remained.
The days that followed hung in a strange suspension. She fetched Emily from school, cooked with Margaret, tried to read. Her mind kept looping back to one question: what now?
You need a solicitor, Claire said when they met at a café. How will you pay?
Well find a way. Ill lend you what I can. You cant just give up. You deserve half the assets.
The house is in his name.
That doesnt matter. You were married when you bought it. Its 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 Simon had taught her not to argue, not to challenge. He always decided where they lived, how the money was spent, where they vacationed.
Mum, Im fed up, Emily said one evening. I want to go back home.
We cant, love.
Why? This is our house! Why are we living here while that that woman is with Dad?
Because Dad decided.
And you? Did you decide too?
Natalie looked at her daughter, who at fifteen seemed wiser than many adults.
I dont know what to do.
Then Ill tell you. We have to go there and kick her out. This is our house, Mums too, and even Grandmas in a way. We lived there, we built it, and he just handed it to some stranger!
Emily
No, Mum! I wont stay silent! Youve been silent all your lifewhen he shouted at you over a burnt pudding, when he forgot your birthday, when he came home drunk at three in the morning. You endured, endured, endured. And look at the result!
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 embraced her daughter, the first real hug in days, pressing her close.
Im sorry, sunshine.
No apologies. We need to act.
The next morning Natalie, for the first time in a week, put on makeup, a smart coat, and heels. Margaret nodded approvingly.
Much better. Where are you off to?
To a solicitor.
Claire gave her the address of a modest firm. Marianne Parker welcomed her in a tiny office, listening intently.
I see, she noted, writing. This is a classic case. He thinks owning the title gives him free reign, but thats not how matrimonial property works. Well file a claim; if we win, hell foot the legal costs.
I have no money for a lawsuit, Natalie began.
First consultation is free. After that, if we succeed, the court will order him to pay.
Do you think well win?
I do. The house was bought during the marriage, you have a minor child. The courts favour you.
Natalie left the office lighthearted for the first time in ages. Hope flickered.
When she got back, the hope shattered. Emily stood in the hallway, eyes red.
Mum, Dad called. He said if you dont give up the house hell strip us of parental rights.
What?!
He said Im an unfit mother, that hell take me and Emily away.
Natalie felt the ground vanish. Margaret tried to reassure.
Hes bluffing. He wont dare.
Natalie knew he would. Simon always got his way, whatever the cost.
That night she lay awake, turning over the house, Emily, the future. She realised the house wasnt worth losing her daughter.
In the morning she called Simon.
Ill agree. Keep the house.
He was silent for a moment.
Wise choice, he finally said. Ill arrange child support for Emily.
I dont need your support. Just leave us alone.
She hung up. Margaret stared, bewildered.
What have you done?
Ive chosen. Between the house and my child.
But its your right!
My right is to protect Emily, not to drag her through courts and hear dads slurs.
Margaret sighed.
Perhaps youre right. Its a shame, all those years in that house.
It was a shame, but Natalie no longer had time for regret. At fortyfive she started hunting for work. Shed left school long ago, her qualifications outdated, no recent experience. Yet she refused to surrender.
A week later a shop advertised a sales assistant position. The pay was modest, but it was something. Natalie interviewed, got the job, and began.
The days were hardstanding all day, irate shoppers, a strict managerbut each shift steadied her. She learned, adapted, found a rhythm.
Youve done well, Margaret said when Natalie handed over her first paycheck. Im proud of you.
Emily helped around the house, did well at school, and stopped sulking. It feels cosy here, she told her mother one evening. Grandmas place works for us.
Natalie hugged her daughter. Yes, it felt right, despite everything.
Three months later Natalie was promoted to senior sales assistant. Her wages rose, and she started saving for a tiny flat of her own.
One afternoonAs the sun set over the quiet suburb, Natalie finally felt the heavy past dissolve, realizing she had reclaimed her own life.
