I often recall that stormy afternoon in our modest terraced house on the outskirts of Birmingham, when my sisterinlaw, Ethel, by accident let my motherinlaw read my private messages.
Arthur stood in the kitchen, phone clenched in his hand, his face flushed with anger.
Did you tell my mother Im a bad husband? he demanded.
Molly turned from the hob, where shed just been frying meat patties. A drop of oil sizzled on the linoleum.
What? What are you talking about?
My mother just called, Arthur said. She says she knows everything about our marriage, that I dont appreciate you, that I behave like a child, that shes seen right through it all.
I havent said a word to my mother, Molly replied, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Her heart hammered. She had never spoken of the fishing trip that had caused the argument not to anyone. Except
I told Ethel, she said slowly. Only Ethel. In a private chat.
So now Ethel is telling my mother about our private life?
That cant be. Ethels my best friend; she would never
The phone rang. It was Nora Whitfield, Arthurs mother. She glanced at her son, who gave a small nod to encourage Molly to answer.
Hello, Nora.
Molly, I need to speak with you seriously. Can you come over today?
Whats happened?
Better in person. Its important, she said, voice tight.
Molly agreed, her hands trembling. How could Nora have learned what shed written to Ethel?
Ill go to her, she told Arthur. We need to sort this out.
Arthurs expression darkened. They had lived together five years, a steady marriage with few serious rows. Yet Nora had always been a stumbling block domineering, convinced no one was worthy of her son. Molly tried to keep the peace, to be polite, but sometimes she vented, and those vents she shared with Ethel, the university friend shed known for fifteen years. Ethel had been the one person Molly could unload her grievances about Nora, about Arthur, about life itself.
Now that very venting had somehow reached Nora.
Molly dressed and drove to Noras flat in the neighbouring suburb, a cramped threebedroom council house where Arthur had grown up. Nora, a widowed woman for a decade, had devoted her life to her son and felt entitled to control his every move.
Nora opened the door, her face stern and unapproachable.
Come in. Would you like a cup of tea?
No, thank you. Nora, whats this about?
Nora led her into the sitting room, sank into her favourite armchair, and gestured for Molly to sit.
Dont just stand there like a post, she said, taking a seat on the sofas edge. Her gaze lingered on Molly, heavy and unblinking.
Ive always sensed youre not sincere with me. You smile, you nod, but behind my back you say all sorts of things.
I dont understand what you mean.
Here, have a look. Nora handed over a phone.
The screen displayed Mollys private chat with Ethel. She recognised her own words, scrolling down through a litany of complaints: Noras meddling, the ten daily calls, the snide remarks about the dishes Molly prepared.
How did you get this? Molly whispered.
Ethel visited yesterday. She came to meet you, you see. We had tea and chatted, and she accidentally showed me some photos. When I opened the conversation, I saw everything. She said she wanted me to know the truth about how you really feel towards me.
Blood drained from Mollys face. Ethel, her dearest friend, had shown this to her mother.
This is private, Molly protested. Everyone has the right to vent, not to betray.
Thats exactly why I showed it, Nora snapped. You called me an old fool, a controlling witch, said I should move to the countryside and stop interfering. You called Arthur a mothers boy, scared to speak to me.
Molly rose sharply.
I never hated you. I was just fed up with the pressure and needed someone to share it with.
And now youll share it with the whole neighbourhood, Nora retorted, rising as well. Ive already told my acquaintances what kind of person you are.
Molly snatched her bag and fled down the stairs, tears blurring her vision. She tried to start the car, but her hands shook so hard the key slipped from her fingers.
She dialled Ethels number. The line rang long and endless before Ethel answered.
Hello, Molly! How are you?
How could you?
What do you mean?
Dont play dumb! You showed my mother our messages!
Ethel was silent for a moment.
Yes, I I showed them. It just happened by accident.
Accident? You went to her on purpose!
I wanted to meet your motherinlaw, thats all. We were talking, I showed her some pictures from my phone, and she saw the chat. I didnt intend it.
Dont lie to me! Why would you do that?
Ethel sighed. Molly, Im tired of being your crybaby cushion. For fifteen years youve unloaded on me on your parents, on classmates, on bosses, now on your motherinlaw and your husband. I was fed up.
If you were fed up, you could have just said so! Why this cruelty?
It wasnt cruelty. I was just showing the truth. Nora has a right to know what you think of her.
Weve been friends fifteen years!
We were, but I cant keep listening to endless whining without change.
Ethel hung up. Molly sat in her car, the phone screen dark, the world collapsing. Arthur met her at the door.
What happened?
Ethel showed my mother the chat. Deliberately.
Why?
I dont know. She said she was tired of being my confidante.
Arthur pulled her into an embrace. She sobbed into his shoulder.
Itll be alright, he said. Well sort it out.
My motherinlaw has shown the messages to everyone she knows. Now the whole neighbourhood knows what I wrote.
What did you write?
Molly stepped back, eyes on him.
Various things that your mother is a pest, that you sometimes act like a child, that its hard for me.
Arthur frowned.
So youve been venting about me to a friend for years?
Sometimes, when things were tough.
What exactly did you say?
Its not the time to go over that now.
No, it is. I want to hear what you said behind my back.
Molly moved to the sofa, her head throbbing. Arthur sat opposite her.
I wrote that youre too attached to your mother, that youre scared to contradict her. I wrote that when she visits you become a different person.
Different how?
I start agreeing with her on everything, even when wed already decided together. Remember the bedroom wallpaper? We chose a pattern, then she called it tasteless and you went along. We ended up with her choice.
Arthur was silent.
Or the time I wanted to attend my fathers birthday, and your mother said it clashed with her own birthday, insisting we be with her. You never tried to reschedule.
That birthday cant be moved, Arthur said.
It could have been, my fathers 60th was important.
My mother is more important.
Molly looked at him. You just said that. And now youre angry I wrote it down.
To my former friend, apparently.
Yes, to my former friend.
They sat in a heavy silence as dusk fell. The meat patties on the stove had long since hardened.
The phone rang again, an unknown number.
Hello?
This is Tamara Bennett. Im a friend of Noras. She showed me your messages.
Molly closed her eyes. And?
I just wanted to say youre right. Nora is far too controlling, always meddling. Ive known her for thirty years; shes a meddler through and through. Youre not wrong to vent.
Thank you, Molly managed.
And that friend of yours Ethel that was a nasty trick. Showing private messages on purpose is underhanded. Id advise you not to keep her in your life.
I wont.
Yes, thats right. Take care, dear.
Tamara hung up. Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Tamara Bennett? She always sided with my mother.
Even her friends see shes overstepping.
The line rang several more times that evening Noras acquaintances, neighbours, distant relatives. Some condemned Molly, others sympathised. One woman cursed her as ungrateful; another said shed suffered the same from Nora and understood.
Turn it off, Arthur suggested. Well deal with it tomorrow.
Molly did. They ate a quiet dinner, then lay down, but sleep eluded them. She stared at the ceiling, replaying the day.
Ethel had been her closest confidante. When shed fallen for Arthur, Ethel was the first to know. When they planned the wedding, Ethel helped. When Molly suffered a miscarriage, Ethel held her hand in the hospital. And now she had deliberately handed the private words to Nora. Why?
Morning found Molly with swollen eyes and a heavy head. Arthur had already had breakfast.
Morning. How did you sleep?
Poorly, she replied.
Ive been thinking. Maybe we should meet Ethel and clear the air. Find out why she did it.
I have nothing to say to her.
But fifteen years of friendship dont just vanish.
Its she who walked away, not me.
Arthur fell silent, finishing his tea.
I called my mother. I told her she was wrong to spread the messages.
What did she say?
That she had a right to protect herself. She felt hurt by what I wrote. She promised to apologise.
And you think you shouldve never written those things?
Molly snapped at him. What are you saying?
Its dangerous to write illwill about people. Sooner or later it surfaces.
So Im to blame?
I didnt mean it like that.
No, you meant exactly that! My friend betrayed me, your mother made a public spectacle, and you think Im at fault!
Im just saying we should have been more careful.
Fine, Im at fault then, he retorted, frustration plain.
Molly stormed to the bathroom, splashing cold water over her face, trying to steady herself. The tension with her motherinlaw lingered like a shadow.
A knock sounded at the door. Molly peered through the peephole it was Ethel.
Dont answer, Arthur warned, moving toward the door.
I wont, Molly muttered.
Open up! I need to speak! Ethel pounded.
Go away. I have nothing to discuss with you, Molly called.
Please, I need to explain!
Its too late for explanations.
Didnt I cause this? I never meant it to happen!
Ethels voice trembled. I thought if Nora saw how you really felt, shed back off. I was naive.
Molly opened the door. Ethel stood there, pale, eyes rimmed with red.
You really believed that would work?
I wanted to help. You complained for years; I was tired of listening. I thought the truth would change things.
People like Nora dont change. They become worse when confronted.
I didnt think it through. Im sorry.
Arthur stepped forward. Ethel, why did you tell Molly you were fed up being your crybaby cushion?
Ethel lowered her gaze. I was angry. You shouted at me, blamed me. I snapped.
Do you truly believe I was just a whiner? Molly asked. That I never try to change?
Sometimes, yes. But that doesnt mean I dont value our friendship. I just need a break from the negativity.
Molly looked at the woman who had been her confidante for fifteen years, now reduced to a trembling figure. Could all that be undone?
I cant talk now, Molly said. I need time.
How long?
I dont know. A week, a month, maybe never.
Please, just leave, she whispered.
Ethel nodded and left. Molly closed the door, leaned against it, and Arthur wrapped his arms around her.
Sorry for what I said earlier, he murmured. Youre not at fault. Its Ethel and my mother.
Thank you.
They stood there, embracing in the hallway, the weight of the past slowly lifting.
I also want to apologise, Arthur continued. Ive always sided with my mother. Im afraid to contradict her, fearing Ill upset you. Thats wrong. Youre my wife; I should protect you, not her.
Molly met his eyes. Is that true?
Yes. From today, things will be different. I promise.
He drove to his mothers flat, returned two hours later, weary but hopeful.
We talked. I told her showing private messages to everyone was low. If she wants to stay in our lives, she must respect our boundaries, he reported.
And what did she say?
She first shouted, then cried, then finally admitted shed overstepped. She promised to apologise to you.
Mhm, Molly said, skeptical but willing to listen.
Later that evening Nora called. Her voice was thin, strained.
Molly, I acted too hastily showing the messages. I shouldnt have.
Too hastily?
Yes. I was angry and hurt. Arthur explained that everyone deserves privacy.
Thank you for understanding.
I want you to know it pained me to read what you wrote about me. Ive always tried to be a good motherinlaw.
Molly held back a retort.
Lets agree on something. Ill try to be more open with you, share my concerns. And youll try not to intrude where youre not invited. Deal?
Nora hesitated, then replied, Deal. Well try.
The phone clicked off. Arthur watched her, proud.
A week later Ethel sent daily messages, apologising, asking to meet, promising never to repeat such a betrayal. Molly read but did not answer. She needed space to sort her feelings.
On one rainy afternoon she visited a psychologist, a kindly woman in her sixties with soft eyes.
You have the right not to forgive, the doctor said. But think what holding onto anger will do to you. Forgiveness isnt for the offender; its for yourself, to let go. You can forgive without rekindling the friendship, or you can rebuild it on new terms.
Molly pondered the advice. The bitterness was eating her alive.
She finally wrote to Ethel, arranging a meeting at a small café on the high street.
Ethel arrived early, waiting at a corner table. When Molly entered, Ethel stood, but didnt approach, just watched.
They sat opposite each other, the waitress placed menus, and they ordered tea.
Thank you for meeting me, Ethel began.
I think we need to talk plainly, Molly replied.
I truly wanted to help. I thought if Nora understood how you felt, shed change. Naïve, I know.
It was naïve and cruel. You broke my trust.
I know. Im ready to do anything to earn it back.
Molly, were you really tired of me? Of my complaining?
Ethel hesitated. Sometimes, yes. It wears on you. But thats no excuse to betray you.
Why didnt you tell me earlier? Id have tried to listen.
I didnt want to hurt you. I thought staying silent was kinder.
Friendship also needs honesty. If something bothers you, you must say it.
I understand now. I wont keep silent again.
Molly sipped her bitter tea, no sugar.
Will we ever be as close as before? Trust is hard to rebuild.
Ill wait as long as it takes.
Maybe we start anew, not as best friends but as acquaintances, and see where it leads.
Ethel nodded. Agreed.
They talked a little longer, about the weather, work, local news, the conversation light, free of tension. Perhaps, with time, things could settle.
When Molly returned home, Arthur greeted her with a bouquet of wildflowers.
For what? she asked, surprised.
Just because. Im proud of you for facing Ethel.
Im not sure well ever be friends again, but I tried.
Trying is what matters. Fifteen years is a long time, he said, smiling.
The next day Nora called, proposing to meet for tea and cake. Molly accepted.
They met at the same café where shed spoken with Ethel. Nora arrived in a smart coat, hair neatly set.
YouThey shook hands over tea, and a tentative peace settled over their onceturbulent lives.
