Peter the longhaul lorry driver rolled into town with a mystery lady in the cab.
Shell be staying with us from now on, he announced, as Molly burst into tears.
Molly stared at the newcomer, eyes wide as saucers. The stranger strutted in, slipped into the bathroom without a word, and emerged wrapped in the housewifes bathrobe, a fluffy towel perched on her head like a crown.
Dont just stand there! she shouted, flinging a dish towel at Molly. First off, Im starving. Second, your husbands about to get home.
Molly wanted to scream, to fling the intruder out the front door, but she stayed silent. The flat belonged to Peter, and under English law it was his premarriage asset, so he could technically bring a guest.
Until that day, everything had been sweet. Molly didnt work, the bills were paid, and Peter earned a decent wage driving routes from Birmingham to London. She was a bit highmaintenance and prone to whims, which friends teased her about. Peter only took the job so he wouldnt have to see his wife for too long, theyd joke, though everyone agreed he adored her.
When Peters return was announced, Molly tried to guess what hed brought back this time.
Reality beat any prediction. Peter pushed the passenger seat back and introduced the woman as Ivy. Shell be staying here, so you dont have a say, he said with a grin.
Molly, thirtyfour, still thought of herself as young and pretty. Ivy, at first glance, looked a decade older, a little scruffy and rather brusque. Could such a character lure her handsome husband? He was only ten years her senior, after all, and some men liked older women, but not the sort Ivy seemed to be.
Hey, are you going to stand there forever? Im famished! Ivy bellowed from the kitchen.
Molly set about boiling a pot of dumplings. Ivy watched, eyebrows raised.
Dont you feed your man with halfcooked stuff? she snapped, and then dump the rest on me?
Exactly, Molly muttered, eyes narrowing.
Ivy flung the dumplings out the open window.
What on earth are you doing? Molly shrieked.
The cat will have a snack. You, love, go make some soup or fry some chips. Got it? Ivy replied, retreating to the telly.
When Peter walked in, Molly dragged him to the kitchen and vented. Get her out! Why did you bring her? She threw the food away!
Ivy appeared, arms crossed. Peter, why are you putting up with her? Youve got a decent job, a roof over your head, money in the bank, and she cant even cook a decent meal. Shes a spoiled brat and a whiner!
I live here, too. Im the lady of the house! Molly snapped.
Fine, have it your way, Ivy retorted, and the three of them headed out to the local supermarket.
Ivy ended up cooking herself that night. Molly had lost her appetite, but the next day she managed a proper beef stew and a plate of spaghetti Bolognese. Shed never been much of a chef, but she started watching recipe videos online, stumbling at first, then gradually finding her rhythm.
She stopped nagging Peter over every little thing. A flicker of fear crossed her mind would Ivy stay forever and she end up on the street? She didnt tell her mother, though she usually called her for any trouble. She confided instead in her best friend, Lucy.
Kick her out! Shes an impostor! I cant imagine if my Pete brought someone like that home, Lucy advised, shaking her head.
You think youre lucky. The flat is yours together, Pete brings home a tidy sum while youre the one juggling everything. And mines nothing! Its all Petes! Molly sobbed.
Lucy, exasperated, replied, Thanks for the drama, love. I was trying to support you, but youve left me hanging. Off you go back to your Pete and his Ivy!
Life seemed unchanged on the surface. Pete still adored his wife, and Molly kept trying to pry the truth from him about Ivys arrival, asking how long shed be staying. He avoided the topic. Ivy found a job in a nearby shop, and Molly suddenly saw a cunning way out she could get pregnant.
Shed never wanted children; shed told Peter she wasnt interested in motherhood, fearing it would ruin her figure and that she had no love for kids. Now she thought a baby might secure her place.
Friends were surprised by the sudden shift. Molly started cooking, stopped throwing tantrums, and seemed to transform into the perfect wife. When she announced to Peter that she was expecting, he beamed.
Its about time! Just raise the little one well, so you dont get shown the door like I did! Ivy sighed, recalling her own past.
What do you mean shown the door? Molly asked, puzzled.
I raised my husbands sons like my own, but when my own son Colin died, they kicked me out, saying I wasnt needed any more, Ivy confessed, tears glistening.
Molly felt a pang of sympathy and said, And then what?
Nothing. I started drinking, didnt want to live. One night my husbands car skidded, I stepped onto the road, he braked just in time. We talked for ages, he straightened my head, invited me to stay. I finally believed there were decent people out there. Youre lucky, Molly, to have a good husband, Ivy replied.
That evening the three of them finally shared a proper dinner together, and Molly didnt feel like tossing Ivy out any more. Ivy smiled, thinking shed managed to reform the troublesome wife.
The next day Peters Uncle Jim drove up from the countryside for a visit, eyeing Ivy with curiosity. After a weeks stay, he left, taking Ivy with him.
At our age we shouldnt waste time. Thank you for having us! Ivy said, waving.
Molly even missed her when she was gone. Life took a turn, and so did she. She gave birth to a daughter, and Ivy agreed to be the godmother. The two women now got on like peas in a pod.
Every summer Molly heads out to the country house with her little one, breathing in fresh air, while Peter marvels at how unrecognisable his wife has become. He credits Ivy for the change.
And thats how a tangled skein of fate stitched together a truck driver, his longsuffering wife, and an unexpected houseguest, turning them into people who now truly need each other.
