### *The Weight of Words*
«You can always go back to your village,» James said when I lost my job.
«Lily, are you going to sit there in silence? The soup’s going cold.» He tapped his spoon against the edge of the bowl, eyeing me with impatience.
Lily lifted her head slowly, setting her phone aside. Shed spent all day calling contacts, hunting for workany workbut the answers were all the same: no openings, cutbacks, crisis.
«Sorry, I was lost in thought,» she murmured, picking up the spoon and tasting the leek and potato soup shed made that morning, just the way James liked it. Now, the effort felt hollow.
«Thinking about work again?» James sipped his soup, watching her sidelong.
«What else is there to think about?» Lily sighed, pushing her bowl away. «Emily says theyre letting people go in her department too. And Jessica from accounts has been out of work for three months.»
«Oh, come off it!» James waved a hand. «Youll find something. Theres time.»
«James, Im forty-three. Who wants someone my age? Everyones after young graduates with computer skills. What do I know? A lifetime behind the till at Tesco, thats all.»
«So what? Its honest work.» He finished his soup, reaching for the bread. «Speaking of, this breads gone stale. When did you buy it?»
Lily said nothing. Shed bought it three days ago, pinching pennies since the supermarket let her go. Jamess construction wages barely covered the bills, and even those came late half the time.
«Maybe visit your sister?» James suggested suddenly. «Stay with her a week or two, clear your head. Ill manage here.»
Her younger sister, Sarah, lived in London, some high-up manager at a corporate firm. She only called on holidays.
«Why would I go there? Shes got her own life, her own family. And we cant afford the fare.»
«Well manage. Or» James stood, looking out the window. «What about your mums place? Back in Shropshire. At least theres homegrown potatoes, fresh milk. You wouldnt go hungry.»
Lily froze, spoon in hand. Her mother lived in a dying village called Blackwood, a hundred miles from the city. The last time Lily had visited was three years ago, for her uncles funeral. The place was witheringjust pensioners left.
«Are you serious? Send me back to the countryside?» She stared at him, disbelieving. «What about you?»
«Me? Ive got work here. I cant just drop everything and follow you. Im the only one bringing in money now.»
«For now,» she corrected quietly.
«Must you twist my words?» James spun around, sharp. «Im not saying forever. A month or two, maybe something turns up here. Better than sitting idle, isnt it?»
«Idle?» Lily stood, clearing the table. «Who cleans this house? Who does the washing, the cooking? Who stood in line at the GP for you when your back gave out?»
«Well, thats just how it is,» James shrugged. «Thats not what I meant. I just» He scratched his head, hesitating. «If you want, you can go back to your village. Its peaceful there. No need to fret over work every day.»
The words hit her like a slap. *Your village.* As if the city hadnt been her home for twenty years. As if shed only ever been a guest here.
«My village?» she repeated slowly. «And this houseis it not mine? Have I been a visitor here for two decades?»
«Christ, Lily» James faltered at her tone. «I didnt mean it like that. I just»
«You just find it inconvenient, dont you? A wife with no job, no income. Better to ship her off where she wont be in the way.»
«Dont be ridiculous!» He flopped onto the sofa, switching on the telly. «Im tired after work, and youre starting scenes.»
Lily washed the dishes in silence, drying her hands on the tea towel. Jamess words circled in her head. *You can go back to your village.* The way hed said itcasual, almost relieved.
That night, James dozed off in front of the telly while Lily lay awake, remembering how theyd met. She was twenty-three, fresh from the countryside, renting a room in a shared flat, working the till at a corner shop. James was a labourer there, handsome, attentive. Six months of flowers, cinema dates. After the wedding, they rented a flat, then got a mortgage. Lily moved to a bigger supermarket, became senior cashier, then department manager.
And now? He was sending her away like an unwanted parcel.
* * *
The bus to Blackwood took two hours. Lily sat by the window, watching fields and hedgerows blur past. The further from the city, the quieter her mind became. Maybe James was right. Maybe she did need to escape the noise for a while.
Her mother, Margaret, met her at the door, pulling her into a hug. «Lily! You shouldve called! Id have made a proper roast.»
«Decided last minute, Mum. Missed you.»
Margaret studied her daughters face. Sharp as ever, she didnt press. «Wheres James? Too busy?»
«Work,» Lily lied.
Margaret nodded, leaving it at that.
The house was just as Lily rememberedfloral wallpaper, creaking floorboards, the old Aga in the kitchen. Only smaller now, and smelling of hay, milk, woodsmoke.
«Make yourself at home,» Margaret said. «Ill sort supper.»
Lily wandered the village that evening. She ran into Miss Whitmore, her old primary teacher, now in her eighties, knitting on her doorstep.
«Lily, dear! How grown-up you look!» Miss Whitmore beamed. «Still remember you reciting *The Owl and the Pussycat* at the school play.»
Lily smiled. «You havent changed.»
«Oh, I have. Just good at hiding it.» The old woman sighed. «Children are in London now. Visit once a year, if that.»
«Why not move to them?»
«And leave? This is home. Every stone here holds a memory.»
* * *
Four days in, James called.
«Had enough of the sticks yet?» he joked.
«Not really.»
A pause. «When are you coming back?»
«I dont know.»
Another pause, longer. «Lily, I said sorry. What more do you want?»
«Nothing. I just need time.»
He came the next weekend, awkward at the garden gate.
«Had your fill of playing country girl?» he said, forcing a grin. «Plenty to do at home.»
«Your things, you mean.»
«Our things! Were a family!»
She almost laughed. «And families send each other away when theyre inconvenient?»
James floundered. «I didntI just thought»
«You didnt think.»
He left the next morning, frustrated.
Margaret watched the car disappear. «You sure about this, love?»
Lily stared at the empty road. «No. But I need to remember who I am without him.»
The village was quiet. The school needed a cleaner. The garden needed tending.
For the first time in years, she breathed.
