Verity Clarke had just shown her exhusband and his mother out the front door when they turned up hoping to make up.
Mrs. Clarke, do you realise weve already had three complaints about you this month? Thats the third! You cant work like this, the matron, Miriam Clarke, scolded, her cheeks flushed and a lump stuck in her throat.
Im doing everything by the book, Miriam. That nurse Crutchfield is picking holes in every little thing. Shes got a personality thats constantly dissatisfied, Verity snapped, her fists clenched tighter than shed like to admit.
Regardless of personality, you must speak to patients politely. Youre a nurse, not
Not what? Verity cut in sharper than intended. Not a doormat that has to tolerate abuse?
Miriam sighed, removed her spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily.
Verity, I know youre going through a rough patch. Divorces are never easy. But the job is still a job. Take some leave, get a proper break. Im not sure how much longer I can shield you.
She left the office fighting back tears. A halfyear had passed since Ian walked out, and the wound still hadnt knit. Every day felt like a test: shift work, an empty flat that echoed with her own footsteps, and a kitchen that never saw a kettle boiled for anyone else.
In the oncall room, her only confidante, Lydia, waited with a cup of tea.
Got any luck? Lydia asked, sympathetic.
The matron suggested I take a holiday. Said my nerves are on the brink.
Maybe you really need it. A little getaway could clear the cobwebs.
Verity shook her head.
What would I go anywhere for? Ians alimony is a pittance, and his mother keeps slipping me contracts saying his income is tiny and the flat is in her name.
Stubborn, Lydia muttered. I told you not to sign those papers.
I thought we were a family, Verity said, voice cracking. I never imagined hed be capable of such betrayal.
She poured herself a mug from the thermos, sank onto a scuffed chair, hands trembling.
Lena, am I really turning into a monster?
Lydia rested a hand on her shoulder.
Youre just protecting yourself. After twenty years with a man, its natural to feel bitter when he walks out for a younger woman without kids.
I dont want to be bitter, Verity burst, tears streaming. I just want a normal life, free of this ache.
That evening she trudged home on foot to save on transport. October was cold and drizzly; wet leaves stuck to her shoes, and the wind slipped under her coat collar. She stared at the pavement, lost in thought.
When Ian left, it felt like a nightmare you could never wake from. Hed have come home, hung his coat, asked what was for dinner, and theyd shared the usual banter. Instead, his mother, Nina Peterson, arrived with a stack of papers and an icy stare.
The flat is in my name, Nina said, tapping the desk. Im not evicting you, just live here until you sort yourself out.
I lived here twenty years, Verity whispered. We renovated it together, bought the furniture
Bought it with my money, Nina interjected. Dont forget, Ian is my son, and Ill always back him.
Verity fell silent, packed a few belongings and rented a tiny, dim council flat on the outskirts, shared with a neighbour who loved her tea and a communal kitchen that reeked of cat litter. It was her space nowno one could claim otherwise.
Approaching her old block, she spotted a familiar black sedan parked by the entrance. The car Ian had bought half a year ago. His presence here meant one thing: he was still around.
She climbed the stairs, hearing voices. On the landing, Ian and Nina were arguing, his hands gesturing wildly, his eyes weary.
Verity! Ian called, the first to spot her. Finally! Weve been waiting an hour.
She fumbled for her keys, but Nina stepped in front of the door.
Wait, we need to talk.
Theres nothing to discuss, Verity said, attempting calm while her insides quivered. Please, just let us pass.
Dont be like that, love, Ian pleaded, looking older, bags under his eyes. We came to make up.
Verity froze. Make up? she repeated slowly.
Yes, Nina cooed, voice syrupy. Your daughter-inlaw turned out to be a golddigging sort. Hes remorseful, wants to come back.
Come back? Verity echoed, as if hearing it in a hall of mirrors.
Yes, home. Were a family after alltwenty years together, cant just abandon that.
Ian extended his hand, but Verity stepped back.
Lets sit down and talk properly. Ill explain everything.
Explain what? Veritys anger flared. How you slipped out in the night, claiming you loved someone else? Or how your mother kicked me out of the home I poured my heart into?
Verity, dont start, Nina whispered, lips pressed. Were here with good intentions.
Good intentions? Verity laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. Youre only here because your son is lonely, because the girl he ran after turned out to be smarter than me. And now you expect me to welcome him back?
I didnt say that, Ian began, but Verity cut him off.
I remember you saying six months ago that I was smothering you, that there was no love left, that you needed space. And you were right.
I Ian started, pale.
No, let me finish. I smothered you for thirtyfive years. I ironed your shirts, cooked your favourite pies, tolerated your mothers meddling, gave up my career because you wanted a housewife. I never had children, and your mother called me a defective woman.
Verity, I never said those things, Ian stammered.
Didnt say them, but you were silent while your mother spat them at me. Silent while I wept.
Nina sighed dramatically.
Enough, Verity. Ians apologising, that should be enough, no?
It isnt enough, Verity said, meeting Ninas eyes. In the past six months Ive finally started living for myself. Yes, Im in a council flat, my purse is thin, but its my life. No one can tell me Im doing it wrong.
Maybe we should go in? Ian asked, glancing at the hallway where neighbours footsteps echoed.
Your neighbours? Verity smirked. For you theyre strangers. For me theyre the only people who treat me decently, better than you and your mother over the years.
Youre out of line! Nina snapped. Im a mother!
A mother doesnt evict the woman who cared for her son for twenty years.
The flat is legally mine!
On paper, perhaps. But not on conscience.
Nina huffed. The law is the law.
Verity nodded. Youre right, the law is the law. So I ask for nothingno flat, no money, no apologies. Just leave and stay out of my life.
Ian grabbed her wrist. Im truly sorry, I was a fool. That that Christine
Dont bother, Verity shrugged his hand free. I dont care who she was or why he left. Its all the same to me now.
Yes, but we had love!
We had love on my side. You had convenience, perhaps habit.
She turned the key, her hands steady. A strange calm settled over her, a peace she hadnt felt in months.
Come on, Mum, lets move, Nina urged, nudging Ian. Dont be a stubborn one!
Im not staying to fight you, Verity said, watching Ninas powdered face and expensive coat. Ill find men like yours elsewhere, thank you.
She opened the door, stepped out, and closed it behind her. The muffled voices and the clatter of a lift drifted away.
Back in her flat, she slipped off her shoes, collapsed onto the bed. Silence wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Her phone buzzed.
Lydia, hows it going? Managed Crutchfield?
Verity smiled, typing back. Handled her. And more.
She rose, walked to the window. The street lamps flickered on, the city humming with life. Cars rushed by, people hurried to their own dramas. She was a part of it nownot anyones wife or daughterinlaw, just Verity.
Morning light streamed through a thin curtain. She wondered if the previous night had been a dream, but the memory of Ian and his mother at her door was vivid. She did a quick stretch, remembered how shed started jogging and signed up for a yoga class at the community centrenot to impress anyone, but because she finally had time for herself.
At work, Lydia noticed the change.
Youre glowing, she said, eyebrows raised. What happened?
Ian showed up with his mother, trying to make up.
And you?
I sent them packing. Politely, but firmly.
Lydia clapped her on the back. Brilliant. Im proud of you.
Honestly, I spent the night thinking. I realized Id spent twenty years living in the shadow of his wishes, his mothers demands. I forgot who Verity is, what she wants.
What do you want now?
Im not sure yet. I just know I dont want to return to what was. It feels like escaping a cagescary at first, then liberating.
Lydia laughed. If he comes back?
He wont. I saw his face; he expected me to grovel. He didnt know Id already flown the coop.
Later that day Verity walked into the matrons office.
Ms. Clarke, regarding that holidaythinking of taking a week off?
Absolutely. Where to?
To my sisters in the countryside. Its been ages.
Her sister, Gwen, lived in a quaint village three hundred miles away, a thatchedroof cottage smelling of fresh scones and apple crumble. A ginger cat purred on the hearth, geraniums crowded the windowsill.
Youve thinned out a bit, Gwen noted as she poured tea.
Yes, Verity replied shortly.
Good! I always said that Ian wasnt right for you. Hes a mothers boy, a ragdoll.
Gwen!
What? Im being honest. You spent twenty years serving him and his mother, and they threw you out when his new flame appeared.
Verity grinned. The funniest part is they came back today, begging for forgiveness.
And you sent them away, didnt you?
Exactly.
Gwen nodded approvingly. Now live for yourself. Youre still young, beautiful. Lifes ahead.
Its fortythree, Gwen. What life?
Age is just a number, love. My neighbour is fiftyeight and got married last year to a wonderful widower. Theyre happy as clappers.
Verity spent ten days at the cottage, walking the woods, picking mushrooms, helping with the garden. Gwen never pried into the past, just kept the kettle on.
One evening they sat on the porch, tea with honey, the sun sinking behind the hills, painting the sky pink.
Ever thought of moving here permanently? Gwen asked.
The country? Why?
Its calmer. My house is big enough, theres work at the local NHS practicenurses are always needed. Pay is less than the city, but the stress is far lower.
Verity mulled it over. A fresh start, far from the noisy streets and the lingering ghost of Ians flat.
Back in the city, the council flat greeted her with a musty smell and a neighbour shouting about rent arrears. Work was unchangedCrutchfield still nagged, Miriam still sighed. Lydia noticed Veritys distant stare at lunch.
Whats on your mind?
Gwen suggested I move to the village.
And youll go?
Maybe its running away, maybe its what I needa new beginning.
Lydia was quiet.
Whatever you decide, Ill support you. Just think it through; village life isnt city life.
Maybe Ill regret it, but staying here would be a sure regret.
One evening, on her way home, Verity saw Ian outside a shop, arm in arm with a young womandefinitely not the one hed left her for. They laughed, oblivious.
She froze, then burst out laughing, startling passersby. It was absurdshe finally understood she didnt need his drama.
The next day she handed in her resignation.
Youre serious? Lydia asked, eyebrows raised.
Absolutely. Im heading to Gwens. Starting a new life.
What about the flat? Your stuff?
I have a few things. Ill take what I can, give away the rest.
Lydia hugged her.
Promise youll call?
I promise.
Packing took a week. Two suitcases and a bag held everything she owned.
She walked the city one last time, visiting the park where she and Ian once strolled, pausing at the old building that never really felt like home.
On the bus, she watched the familiar skyline recede, the unknown ahead feeling oddly inviting.
At the bus station, Gwen waited.
Here for good? she asked.
Here for good, Verity replied, finally smiling without bitterness.
Life in the village wasnt easy, but Verity never regretted her choice. She took a job at the local practice, bought a cosy cottage near Gwen, and evenings were spent on the porch sipping tea, chatting about everything and nothing.
Sometimes she recalled the night shed shut the door on Ian and his mother, the tremor in her hands, the fear of being alone. Now she knew that moment had sparked her real lifea life where she was the heroine of her own story.
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