28September2025
Dear Diary,
My husband, a longhaul truck driver, returned from a delivery with a stranger in tow. Shell be living with us from now on, he announced, and I felt tears sting my eyes. I stared at the unknown woman, stunned, while she strutted in with the confidence of someone who owned the place. She barged into the bathroom without a second thought, emerged in a housecoat that belonged to my husband, and even sported his favourite towel as a makeshift hat. As she paced past me she snapped, Dont just stand there! Im starving, and your husband will be back any minute.
Part of me wanted to shout at her, to throw her out the door, but I stayed silent. The flat was legally my husbandsproperty acquired before we marriedso I had little claim over it. Until yesterday, everything had been comfortable. I didnt work; the household cash, a modest £2,500 a month, came in steady from his freight earnings. I was known for my capricious temperament, and our friends often joked that Peter took the road so he wouldnt have to see me as often as he did. Yet they all believed he loved me fiercely, and I believed it toountil today.
When Peter arrived, he introduced the woman as Claire. Shell be staying with us, and youll have no objections, he said. I could hardly process it. Im thirtyfour, still young and pretty by most standards. Claire, by contrast, looked well into her fifties, unkempt and rude. How could such a woman attract my handsome husband? Hes only ten years older than me, and while some men prefer older ladies, I never imagined this.
From the kitchen, Claire shouted, Are you going to stand there forever? Im hungry! I set about boiling dumplings. She watched silently, then raised an eyebrow and asked, Do you feed your husband with readymade meals? And now youre serving them to me? I stared at her, resentment boiling, and replied, Exactly. Claire demonstratively opened a window and tossed the dumplings outside.
Youre ridiculous! I squealed. The cat will eat them! You, dear, should make soup or fry some potatoes, got it? She turned on the television, ignoring me.
When Peter got home, I dragged him into the kitchen and vented, Kick her out! Why did you bring her here? She threw away the food! Claire appeared, eyes cold. Peter, why do you put up with her? Youre a respectable man with a decent income, and she cant even cook a proper meal. Shes a spoiled daughter of a mothers boyfriend and a chronic complainer. I snapped back, I live here too, and Im the lady of this house! She simply replied, Fine then, and left with Peter to the local supermarket.
Claire cooked for herself. I had no appetite that day, but the next day I ate the brilliant beetroot soup and navalstyle pasta she made. Ive never liked cooking, but I decided to catch up. I started watching recipes online. The first attempts were disastrous, but slowly I found my rhythm. I stopped picking fights with Peter over every little thing.
A fear settled in me: what if Claire stayed and I left? I told no onenot even my mother, who I usually call every weekbut confided in my best friend, Katie. Get her out! Shes an impostor! I cant imagine Sam bringing someone like that home, Katie urged. Youre lucky, Grace. The flat is yours together, and Sam earns nothing, youre the breadwinner. My husband is perfect, and now this mess! I sobbed, All I wanted was a quiet life. Katie replied, I was trying to support you, but youve pushed me away. Go back to Sam and his Claire!
In reality, nothing much changed. Peter still gazed at me with adoration, and I kept probing why hed dragged Claire into our home and how long she would remain. He refused to discuss it. Claire found a job at a local shop, and I suddenly saw a way to survive this intrusion: I could become pregnant. Id never wanted children; Id told Peter I didnt plan on motherhood because I didnt want to ruin my figure and I had no love for kids. Yet the idea suddenly seemed like a clever escape.
Friends were astonished by my transformation. I started cooking, stopped having tantrums, and, absurd as it sounded, turned into the perfect wife. Then, glowing, I announced to Peter that I was expecting. He was overjoyed. Claire, with a sigh, said, Its about time! Raise the child well, so they dont end up being thrown out like I was. I asked, What do you mean, thrown out? She recounted how shed raised her former husbands sons as her own, only to be chased from the house after her brother Colin died. Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke.
For the first time I felt genuine sympathy for her. And then? I asked. She answered, Nothing. I turned to drinking, didnt want to live. One night my husband drove by, I stepped onto the road, he braked just in time. We talked for ages; he changed my mind, invited me to stay. I realized there are good people out there. Youre lucky, Grace, to have a husband like Peter. That evening, the three of us finally sat down to dinner together, and I no longer felt the urge to evict Claire. She smiled, thinking shed somehow reform the troublesome wife.
The next day Peters uncle, Tom, arrived from the countryside for a visit. Everyone kept glancing at Claire, impressed. After a weeks stay, Tom prepared to leave, and Claire whispered, At our age we shouldnt waste time. Thanks for taking me in. I found myself missing her already.
Life has shifted dramatically. I gave birth to a daughter, and I asked Claire to be her godmother. Theyre inseparable now. Every summer I travel to Toms farm in Yorkshire; fresh air does wonders for the little one, and Peter marvels at how unrecognisable his wife has become. He credits much of the change to Claires influence.
Its strange how a tangled knot of fate can bring together people who end up needing each other more than ever before.
