“Maybe you should go back to your village,” said my husband when I lost my job.
“Alice, why so quiet? Your soups getting cold.” William tapped his spoon against the edge of his plate, giving me a disapproving look.
Alice slowly lifted her head and set her phone aside. All day, shed been calling friends, searching for any kind of work, but the answer was always the sameno openings, recession, cutbacks.
“Sorry, just thinking,” she murmured, picking up her spoon and tasting the vegetable stew shed made that morning. William loved it with cabbage and beans, but now it all seemed pointless.
“Whats on your mind?” He sipped his soup, glancing at her occasionally. “Still about the job?”
“What else?” She sighed, pushing her bowl away. “Emily says theyre letting people go in her department too. And Sarah from accountings been out of work for three months now.”
“Oh, come off it!” William waved a hand. “Youll find something. Theres plenty of time.”
“Will, Im forty-three. Who wants someone my age? Everyones hiring younger peoplegraduates with computer skills. What do I know? Ive worked behind a shop counter my whole life.”
“And whats wrong with that? Honest work,” he said, finishing his soup and reaching for bread. “This breads stale, by the way. When did you buy it?”
Alice stayed silent. Shed bought it two days agoscrimping wherever she could. Since losing her job at the supermarket, the household budget had shrunk. Williams wages from the construction site werent much, and they were often late.
“Maybe you should visit your sister?” he suggested suddenly. “Stay with her a week or two, take your mind off things. Ill manage here.”
Her younger sister, Margaret, lived in London, working as a manager at some big firm. She rarely called, only on holidays.
“Why would I go there? Shes got her own life, her own family. And we havent got the train fare.”
“Well find the money.” William stood and walked to the window. “Listen, maybe you should go stay with your mum instead. In the village. At least theres homegrown potatoes, milkyou wont starve.”
Alice froze, spoon in hand. Her mother lived in Littlemarsh, sixty miles from town. The last time Alice had visited was three years ago for her uncles funeral. The village was dyinghardly any young people left, just pensioners.
“Youre serious? The village?” She stared at him. “And what about you?”
“What about me? Ive got work here. I cant just drop everything and go with you. Im the one keeping us afloat now.”
“For now,” Alice corrected quietly.
“Stop twisting my words!” He turned sharply. “Im not saying forever. Stay a month or two, maybe something will turn up here. Whats the point sitting around doing nothing?”
“Nothing?” She stood, clearing the table. “Who cleans this house? Who does the washing, the cooking? Who stood in line at the clinic for you when your back was hurting?”
“Well, thats just how it is,” he shrugged. “I didnt mean it like that. Its just…” He hesitated, scratching his head. “If you want, you can go back to your village. Itll be quieterno need to stress about work every day.”
His words stung like a slap. “Go back to your village.” As if the city hadnt been her home for twenty years. As if she were just a visitor here.
“My village?” she repeated slowly. “And this houseisnt it mine? Have I been a guest here for twenty years?”
“Alice, come on!” William faltered at her tone. “Thats not what I meant. I just…”
“You just feel awkward, dont you? A wife without a job, not bringing in money. Better send her away so shes not in your sight.”
“Dont talk rubbish!” He flopped onto the sofa, turning on the TV. “Im tired after work, and youre making a scene.”
Alice finished washing the dishes in silence, drying her hands on the towel. Williams words echoed in her mindhis indifferent, almost relieved tone.
That night, William fell asleep in front of the TV while Alice lay awake, remembering how theyd met. She was twenty-three, fresh in the city, renting a room in a shared flat, working as a shop assistant. William had been a labourer thereyoung, handsome, attentive. Hed been sweet for six months, bringing flowers, taking her to the cinema. After they married, they rented a flat, then took out a mortgage. Alice moved to a bigger supermarket, became a senior assistant, then department manager.
And now? He was sending her away like unwanted baggage.
“Mum, why are you calling so late?” Her daughter Charlottes sleepy voice came through the phone.
“Sorry, love, I didnt think about the time. How are you?”
“Fine. Is something wrong? You sound odd.”
Charlotte lived in the next town over, working at a bank, recently married. They rarely spokeonce a week at most.
“Nothings wrong. Just missed you. Hows Daniel?”
“Hes good. Mum, are you sure youre okay? Your voice isnt right.”
Alice wanted to tell her about the job, about Williams words, but stopped herself. Why upset them? They had their own problems.
“Everythings fine, love. Go back to sleep. Early start tomorrow.”
“Mum, maybe come visit? Its been ages.”
“Well see. Sleep well.”
Next morning, William was unusually affectionatebringing her coffee in bed, kissing her cheek.
“Sorry if I said the wrong thing yesterday. I just want whats best for you.”
“I know,” she forced a smile.
“ListenI spoke to the lads at work. Dave says his wifes office is looking for an accountant. Maybe that could work?”
“Im not an accountant,” Alice reminded him.
“You could learn. Take a course. The main thing is wanting to.”
“Courses cost money. A lot of money.”
“Well manage,” he waved it off. “If you want to, well find a way.”
She did want to. She had the energy. But every morning, scanning job ads, she felt more useless. “Shop assistant wantedunder 30.” “Sales manager with 1C experience.” “Specialist requiredmaximum age 40.”
“Jen, hi.” Alice called her old colleague from the shop. “How are things?”
“Alice!” Jen perked up. “Thought youd forgotten us. Found anything yet?”
“Not yet. Any news there?”
“Bad. Two more got laid off last week. Tina from produce and Sandra from dairy. Rumour says more cuts coming.”
“And the manager?”
“Still in her office, pretending everythings fine. But she knowsnew owners taking over, wants to reshuffle everything.”
Alice hung up and sat by the window. Kids played outside, young mums chatted on benches. Life went on, while she felt left behind.
“Ill go stay with Mum,” she told William at dinner.
“For long?” He didnt look up from his plate.
“Dont know. A week. Maybe longer.”
“Fine. Have a rest. Ill sort things here, finish the shed.”
“The shed?” She blinked. “Youve been saying that for six months.”
“Well, now Ill have time. Be quicker without you fussing over it.”
Alice said nothing. “Without you fussing”another phrase that lodged like a splinter.
She packed lightlyjeans, a few jumpers, a warm coat. William saw her to the bus, kissed her goodbye.
“Call when you get there.”
“I will.”
“Say hi to your mum. Tell her Ill visit soon.”
Alice nodded, though she knew he wouldnt. William hated the village”boring, too many midges.”
The bus to Littlemarsh took two hours. She watched fields and woods roll by, the further from town, the calmer she felt. Maybe he was right. Maybe she needed thisa break from city stress.
“Alice!” Her mother hugged her tight on the doorstep. “What a surprise! Why didnt you call? Id have made stew, baked a pie.”
“Last-minute decision, Mum. Missed you.”
Her mother studied her. Evelyn had always been sharpgood at reading people.
“Wheres William? Not with you?”
“Too much work. Hell come later.”
“I see,” Evelyn nodded, asking no more.
The house was just as Alice rememberedold wallpaper, creaky floors, the wood stove in the corner. Only smaller now. And it smelled like homehay, milk, woodsmoke.
“You know where everything is,” her mother said. “Settle in. Ill fix chicken for dinnercelebrate you being here.”
“Mum, dont bother. Im not hungry.”
“Not hungry? Youve lost weight. Doesnt William feed you?”
“He does. Just… tired, Mum.”
Evelyn stroked her hair. “Youll tell me when youre ready. Rest now.”
For days, Alice did just thatslept late, helped in the garden, visited old neighbours. Many were gone, houses empty, boarded up. The village was fading.
“Remember Lucy Harper?” her mother asked over tea. “You went to school together.”
“Of course. How is she?”
“Moved to the city ten years back, to her sons. He put her in a home. Can you imagine? His own mother!”
“Why?”
“Says hes too busy. Wife works, he works, kids. Old mum just gets in the way.”
Alice shivered. Like walking over a grave.
“And her house? The farm?”
“Sold it all. Son needed moneysome loan.”
“Lucy agreed?”
“What choice did she have? Too much for one. Shes seventy-five.”
That evening, Alice walked through the village, meeting Mrs. Wilkins, her old primary teacher.
“Alice, dear!” The frail woman beamed. “All grown up! I still picture you reciting poetry at assembly. ‘Little Miss Muffet'”
“I remember, Mrs. Wilkins. You havent changed.”
“Oh, go on! Im ancient now. Nearly eighty. Still managing alone, though.”
“Your children?”
“City life. Son in London, daughter in Edinburgh. Visit once a year, their dads death anniversary. Sometimes.”
“They dont call?”
“Oh, birthdays, Christmas. Ask if Im still kicking.” Mrs. Wilkins smiled sadly. “They want me to move, but I cant. My whole lifes here. Every stones familiar.”
Walking home, Alice thought of her, of Lucy, of her own mother. Once young, needed. Raised children, worked, dreamed. Now alone with memories.
“Mum, have you thought of moving to town?” Alice asked at supper.
“Thought? Aye, winters especially, when snow blocks the roads. But whered I go? Your place? What if William minds? Small flat, my old-lady ways…”
“Mum, since when does he decide? Youre my mother. Youre always welcome.”
“I know, love. But best not push it. I manage.”
“What if you get ill? What then?”
“Well, what will be, will be. Im not the first, wont be the last.”
Alice bit back an argument. Williams words echoed again”go back to your village”and she realised she feared this: that one day, Charlotte might say the same to her.
On the fourth day, William called.
“Hows it there? Your mum alright?”
“Fine. Managing.”
“When are you coming back?”
“Dont know. Might stay awhile.”
“Seriously? What about home? What about me?”
“Youll manage. You said youd work faster without me.”
“Alice, I didnt mean”
“What did you mean?”
Silence.
“Fine, stay a bit. Just not too long. I miss you.”
“Miss me,” she repeated after hanging up.
“William called?” her mother asked.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“Says he misses me.”
“Do you miss him?”
Alice thought. Oddly, she didnt. For the first time in years, she felt calm. No rushing dinners, laundry, cleaning. No listening to William grumble about work, bosses, life.
“Dont know, Mum. Not yet.”
“I see,” Evelyn nodded.
“Mum, did you and Dad fight?”
“Fight? Course. Made up, though. He never belittled me, never said I was in the way. Respected me.”
“What if he had?”
“Dont know. Never happened.”
That evening, Alice visited Mrs. Wilkins again. The old woman knitted on her porch.
“Ive been thinking about yesterday,” she said. “About children. Know what I realised? We raised them to take, not give.”
“How?”
“Simple. We gave them everythingkept scraps for ourselves. They learnt that Mum provides, sacrifices. Grew up expecting it. Never crossed their minds Mum might want something too.”
“So we shouldve been selfish?”
“Maybe. Maybe theyd value us more.”
Walking home, Alice mulled it over. Shed given everythingfirst to parents, then William, Charlotte. And in return? When she became unnecessary, they suggested she leave. Politely, but still.
“Mum, what if I stayed?” she asked at breakfast.
“How dyou mean?”
“Live here. Help you.”
“And William?”
“William can manage. He said so.”
Evelyn was quiet a long time. “Do you want to stay? Or is it just hurt talking?”
“Dont know, Mum. Honestly. But Im happy here. Peaceful. No one calls me a burden.”
“Love, the village isnt running away. Lifes hard here too. Lonely. Think carefully.”
“I am. Every day.”
Two days later, William arrived. Alice saw him at the gate, hesitating. She went out.
“Hi,” he said awkwardly. “How are you?”
“Fine. Why are you here?”
“To take you home. Time to come back.”
“Whose time?”
“Alice, enough! Had your break. Theres loads to do.”
“Your things, you mean?”
“Our things! Were a family!”
“Family?” She scoffed. “When you told me to come here, was that family?”
“I didnt throw you out! Suggested a rest!”
“‘Go back to your village’thats a holiday invite?”
William flushed. He knew how it sounded.
“Poor choice of words. Didnt mean to upset you.”
“What did you mean?”
“Wanted… wanted you not to suffer. Stress over work.”
“And now?”
“Now I want you back. Homes not home without you.”
“And if I dont find work? Offer me this again?”
“Wont happen.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Alice studied himand knew she didnt believe him. Something between them had broken. Maybe unfixable.
“Will, if you lost your job, would I tell you to leave?”
“Thats different.”
“Why?”
“Because Im the man. Breadwinner.”
“And Im what?”
“Youre… my support. My backbone.”
“Backbone,” she echoed. “Useful till its a burden.”
“Dont be daft!” William snapped. “Burden? Are you ill?”
“No. Just unemployed. Extra mouth. Burden.”
“Stop this!”
“Then why send me away?”
He had no answer. He didnt even know why hed suggested itjust seemed easier. Fewer complaints, fewer sad eyes, fewer job talks.
“Alright, I was wrong. Sorry. Come home?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I mean it. Not coming.”
“Ever?”
“Dont know. Im happy here. Mum needs help. Youll manage. You said so.”
“Alice, I apologised! What more do you want?”
“Nothing. Just… need to think. About us. About me. What comes next.”
William stayed the night, left next morninghurt, confused. He didnt understand his wife. Shed always yielded before. Now this stubbornness.
“Love,” her mother said as the bus disappeared. “Think again. Maybe he truly regrets it?”
“Maybe. But Im not ready. Need time, Mum. Need to know who I am without him. If I can stand alone. Or if Ive forgotten how.”
“Will you look for work here?”
“Yes. The school in town needs a cleaner. Pays low, but enough. And Ill help in the garden summers.”
“Course you will.”
Alice hugged her, resting her head on Evelyns shoulder. For the first time in years, she felt at home. Truly home.
