I still remember the day I lugged my suitcase to the curb and, after a decade of grinding, finally felt a breath of freedom.
Eleanor Miller, are you kidding me? This is the third time this week youve done that!
The shop assistant stared at me, irritation plain on her face. I stood at the till, my cheeks flushing, then paling, the crumpled note in my hand slipping from my grip for the fifth time.
Im sorry, but my husband only gave me three hundred pounds for groceries
Only! she snapped, waving her hands. Youre fortyfive and you act like a child! He gave you permission!
You dont understand
I understand perfectly! Ive a queue forming and youre still fidgeting over what you can buy with three hundred pounds! Pick something and get out of my way!
I snatched a loaf and a jug of milk, handed over the note, and bolted out. On the pavement I leaned against the wall, inhaled deeply. Tears threatened, but I held them back. No crying. Not in public.
That evening Stephen, my husband, came home from work in a sour mood. I met him in the hall, grabbed his briefcase.
Stephen, suppers ready. Ive made meatballs and potatoes
Fried again? he grimaced. My stomachs revolting from your cooking!
You asked for meatballs yesterday
Yesterday I asked! And today you change your mind! Is it that hard to remember?
I fell silent, lowered my head, slipped into the kitchen. Stephen flopped into his armchair in front of the telly.
And wheres the money? I gave you four hundred this morning!
Three hundred. You gave three hundred.
Dont argue! I know better how much I gave!
Fine, three hundred, I said without further protest. I bought bread, milk, butter. Here are the receipts.
He took the slips, scanned them.
Bread for fortyeight pounds? Why so expensive?
Its just regular bread, Stephen
Regular costs thirty! You overpaid! Youre wasteful!
I bit my lip. Another argument over a few pence, another day of the same petty fights.
It hadnt always been like this. Wed met at work when Stephen arrived as the new department headhandsome, confident, successful. He noticed me, started courting.
Eleanor, youre delightful. Shall we go to the café this evening?
Id like that.
No work talk, just a chance to get to know you better.
He was charming, showered me with compliments, brought flowers. After two failed relationships I was eager to finally meet someone who seemed right. Stephen felt perfect.
We wed quickly, six months after meeting. I was thrilled, convinced Id found my destiny.
The early months were indeed pleasant. Stephen was attentive, caring, though he sometimes made odd remarks.
Len, that dress doesnt suit you. Its too bright.
I like it
It may be bright, but it looks vulgar. Wear something grey instead.
I changed, trying to please him.
Then the criticism turned to the kitchen.
The soup is undersalted.
The meat is tough.
That salad is odd.
I tried harder, bought cookbooks, watched recipes, yet Stephen always found something to fault.
Eventually he suggested I quit my job.
Len, why keep working? I earn well; Ill provide for us.
But I enjoy my work
Work? You earn pennies! Stay at home, run the household. Our home is in shambles, the food is terrible. Take care of it properly.
I gave in, resigned, became a housewife. At first it was niceno early alarms, everything at my own pace.
But Stephen soon turned my life into a torment. Every day he inspected, corrected, nagged.
Why is there dust on the shelf?
Why isnt the shirt ironed properly?
Why is lunch at one oclock, not twelvethirty?
I ran from task to task, trying to please, but it was impossible. He always had a new gripe.
Money was the worst part. He handed me a fixed weekly allowancethree hundred, at most four hundred poundsand demanded a ledger of every penny.
Where did the twenty pounds go?
I bought a bun
A bun? We have bread at home!
I craved something sweet
Cravings! Money isnt elastic! Next time ask first!
He expected me to ask permission for a bun as if I were a child.
I tried to find work, went to a few interviews, but Stephen would discover each and start a scene.
Have you gone mad? You want to work! Who will keep the house?
I can manage both
You cant! You do everything halfheartedly! Stop dreaming! Your place is here!
He barred me from seeing friends, claiming they poisoned my mind.
Stephen, Id like to go to Lucys birthday
Lucy? That tramp? Shes been married three times!
Shes a friend
Not a friend! Friends support families, not betray them! You wont go!
I didnt go, nor many other events. Gradually my friends stopped inviting me, thinking Id shunned them.
Lucy tried calling repeatedly.
Len, whats happened to you? Youve vanished!
Just busy
Busy! You sit at home all day! Lets meet for a coffee!
I cant, Stephen wont allow
Forget Stephen! Len, are you hearing yourself? Have you joined a cult?
Perhaps I had, but the cult was my house, and the guru, my husband.
Years passedfive, seven, ten. I became a shadow, moving silently, speaking softly, avoiding eyes. Small joys kept me afloat: secret books, evening dramas when Stephen was at work.
Then one afternoon at the corner shop I heard a familiar voice.
Len? Is that you?
I turned. Lucy, my best friend from eight years ago, stood there.
Lucy
God, youre alive! she embraced me. Where have you been? Ive called, written!
I know, sorry. I was busy.
Busy, Lucy said, studying me. Len, are you alright? You look grey.
Im fine.
No, youre not. Youve lost weight, youre withdrawn. Whats wrong?
I tried to joke, to change the subject, but Lucy took my hand and led me across the road to a café.
Sit, lets talk. No arguing.
I told her the essentialshis control, the constant scrutiny, the pennybypenny allowance. Her face grew darker.
Len, thats domestic abuse. Psychological.
Abuse? He never hits me
It doesnt have to be physical! Hes destroying you mentally, controlling every step!
Maybe hes just demanding.
Demanding! Lucy slapped the table. Len, wake up! He treats you like a servant! Are you a person or a robot?
A person
Then why let him treat you like that?
I didnt know what to answer. Love? But love had long since faded. Only habit and fear remained.
Lucy, how do I leave? Where will I go? I have nothing!
You have yourself! Find work, get a flat!
At fortyfive? Who needs me?
Youre a qualified accountant! Youll find work. I can help; I know people.
Lucy really helped. A week later she called, saying a small firm had a vacancy, decent pay, flexible hours.
Go to the interview. I spoke to the director; hell take you.
I went, telling Stephen I was just popping to the shop. The interview went well. The director, a gentleman in his early fifties, was courteous, asked about my gap.
Eleanor Miller, why so long out of work?
Family reasons. Home, husband
I see. Your experience is solid. Youll be up to speed quickly. Start Monday?
Im ready.
I returned home buoyed, for the first time in years feeling a flicker of joy. Work, my own money, my own freedom!
But how to tell Stephen? He would surely object.
That evening, when he shuffled in, I gathered courage.
Stephen, we need to talk.
About what? he didnt look up from his phone.
Ive got a job.
Silence hung. Stephen finally raised his head.
What did you say?
I got a job. Accountant. I start Monday.
Without my permission?
Stephen, Im an adult. I dont need your permission.
He leapt up, his face twisted with rage.
No permission? I said you needed it! Youre my wife! You must ask!
Ive already signed the contract.
Then youll turn up tomorrow and quit!
I wont.
What?
I said I wont! I felt a sudden surge of boldness. Ten years Ive endured your control, your nagging! Enough!
Youre rebelling? he grabbed my shoulders. Who are you without me? I feed you, clothe you!
You give me three hundred a week! That buys me a crust of bread and a mug of tea!
Thats all you need! Stop whining!
I havent bought a new dress in five years! I wear rags while you splurge each month!
I have to look decent for work!
I do too! Im a person too!
He swung his arm, I braced for a blow, but he only turned and stormed into the next room, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled.
I stood in the kitchen, trembling, knees shaky, yet an odd lightness settled over me. I had finally spoken my truth.
Monday I went to work. Stephen made no comment, offered no protest. He simply watched from a distance.
The office was unfamiliar at firstdesks, colleagues, tasks. I felt out of place, but gradually I settled, recalling old skills, learning new software.
My new coworker, Irene, a woman my age, also an accountant, became a steady friend.
Len, hows it going? Managing okay?
Trying. Ive forgotten a lot over the years.
No worry, youll catch up fast. If you need anything, just shout!
My first paycheck arrived a month later: twentyfive pounds. To some it was peanuts; to me it was a fortune. I held the envelope, stunned. My own earnings.
I went to the shop, bought a bright new coat Id admired, decent groceries, even a small cakejust because.
Stephen saw the bags, frowned.
Whats this?
Groceries. And a coat.
Whered the money come from?
My salary.
He rummaged through the bag, held up the coat, scowled.
One and a half pounds for that! he shouted, tossing it on the table. Wasteful! I told you to save!
Its my money. I earned it.
Not yours! Were married! Everythings shared!
Then yours is shared too. Lets pool it.
He fell silent, realizing his grip had slipped.
Fine, do as you wish, he muttered. But from now on youll pay for all the food yourself! I wont give you a penny!
Perfect. Ill pay myself.
He left, door slamming. I stared at the coat, at the bags, and for the first time in a long while truly smiled.
Months passed. Work became enjoyable; colleagues turned into friends. I started joining them for drinks after work, catching a film on weekends. Stephen complained, but could no longer forbid anything.
Those women again!
Theyre my colleagues, my friends.
Friends? Theyre turning you against me!
No one is turning me. I see things clearly now.
What do you see?
I see I spent ten years in a cage. Now the cage is open.
Stephens anger grew as he sensed his control waning. One night, after a long shift, I lingered to finish a report. He met me in the hallway, drunk and furious.
Where have you been?
At work. Im late.
Lying! Youre seeing someone!
Who am I seeing? Stephen, youre intoxicated. Go to bed.
Im not! he seized my wrist. Youre cheating! Admit it!
What are you talking about? No one else!
Dont lie! I know everything! Someones there!
No one! Let go!
He shoved me. I hit the wall, rose, met his raging eyes, and understood: staying would only make things worse. He would never change.
Thats enough, I said quietly. Its over.
Over what?
This marriage. Im leaving.
Where will you go? he sneered. You have nothing!
I have. I have a job, I have money. Ill get a flat.
You wont survive a week without me!
I will. Youll see.
I walked to the bedroom, opened my suitcase, began packing. Stephen stood in the doorway, bewildered.
Are you serious?
More than serious.
Len, dont be foolish. Where will you go at eleven at night?
To Lucys. Shes let me stay.
That that tramp?
Shes not a tramp. Shes a friend who helped me when I was at my lowest.
I zipped the suitcase, grabbed my coat and bag, headed for the hallway. Stephen lunged, grabbing my arm.
Wait. Lets talk.
Theres nothing left to say. Its done.
Len, please, Ill change.
How many times have you promised? Twenty? Thirty?
This time I mean it!
No. You never see the problem, so you cant fix it.
I tore my hand free, opened the door, stepped onto the landing. Stephen followed.
Len! Come back! Youll regret this!
Maybe. But not the way Id regret staying.
I descended the stairs, out into the cold October wind that bit at my cheeks. I stopped, breathed in, and felt free for the first time in ten years.
I called Lucy.
Lucy, can I come over? Ive left Stephen.
Come straight away! Im waiting!
Lucy wept, listened to everything, rubbing my back.
Len, Im so proud of you! I knew youd find the courage!
Its terrifying, Lucy.
Of course it is. But youll manage. Ill help.
I stayed with Lucy for a week, then rented a modest studio of my own. Moving in alone after so many years felt strange, yet liberating. No one demanded reports, no one dictated meals. I could eat what I wanted, watch what I liked, sleep whenever.
Stephen called in the first weeks, begging me to return, promising change. Then he threatened.
Youll regret it! Youll end up alone! Nobody needs you!
I cut the line, blocked him on every messenger. I refused to hear his pleas, knowing any listening might pull me back. I could not return.
At work my colleagues noticed the shift.
Len, you look refreshed! Irene said. Youre even prettier!
Really?
Absolutely! Your eyes sparkle, you smile more!
Id truly changed. I started caring for myself: new clothes, a haircut, a manicuresmall pleasures Id forgotten.
One day the director offered a promotion.
Eleanor Miller, the chief accountant position is opening. Id like to offer you the role.
Me? Ive only been here six months
And youve proven yourselfresponsible, keen, quick to learn. What do you say?
I accept! Of course I do!
The salary jumped to forty pounds a week. To many it was modest; to me it was a massive step. I moved into a larger flat, brighter, with fresh paint, lively plantsa space I owned.
A year after the split, I bumped into Stephen on the street. He looked older, slumped, weary.
Len
Hello, Stephen.
How are you?
Fine. And you?
Soso. Married again.
Congratulations.
No thanks. Its not working.
I nodded, unsurprised. With his temperament, no one could last.
Want to get a coffee? Talk?
I dont think thats a good idea.
Why? Were adults
Exactly why. We have no common ground. The past is past.
I just wanted to apologise for everything.
I looked at him, saw a hint of genuine remorse. Perhaps he finally understood.
Apology accepted. Take care.
I walked on, never looking back. The life I left stayed behind; ahead lay a new one, wholly my own.
Now, more than a year after I hauled those suitcases, I sometimes recall those ten oppressive yearshow terrified I was to leave, how I thought Id crumble alone. Yet being alone proved safe, not scary. I could breathe fully, be myself, without moulding to anyone elses expectations.
There are lonely moments, a tinge of sadness, but its a gentle sorrow, notAnd in the quiet of her own home, Eleanor finally understood that the greatest adventure was simply living her own life.
