A week on her own would have softened her like fresh linen, but when he saw what had happened during that time, he froze the moment he crossed the front step.
Poppy hadnt been herself lately. Cracks were appearing in her marriage, and she felt hopeless in the gnawing limbo. It all started with tiny irritations as it always does.
After work, Mark began peppering her with sharp remarks. His jokes were laced with venom; each barb cut deeper than a slap. Day after day his behaviour worsened, and even on his day off he offered her no respite.
Look at you, you look like an old hag! hed bark, phone glued to his ear. Other blokes have wives who look like women, and Ive got myself a shriveled prune!
Indeed, Poppy did look a touch older than her years. Her job was demanding, leaving a permanent crease on her brow. Hearing such slurs from the man shed pledged to love was a particular sting. She worked for the family, earning double what Mark made, so he had no excuse to whine.
Mark, meanwhile, spent his money however he fancied, never asking anyone else: Where I want, theres my cash! No kids, no savings!
Poppy endured that too. Money wasnt scarce. They werent officially married just living as partners and not rushing the wedding but Marks mother, Mrs. Whitaker, had long called Poppy a daughterinlaw, and Poppy, in turn, thought of her as a motherinlaw.
Mrs. Whitaker proved to be a meddlesome, neversatisfied presence. She constantly pried into the couples affairs, and most of her nitpicking landed squarely on Poppys lap.
The pair lived in a semidetached house on the outskirts of Birmingham. Though the neighbourhood was suburban, the garden needed regular upkeep. Poppy often begged Mark for a hand:
I just cant keep up work starts at nine and ends at six! shed plead.
And whats it to me? Mark would answer. Its your house, youre the one in charge, why should I bother?
And so it was: in winter the garden was buried under drifts until Poppy herself grabbed a shovel; in summer the grass grew up to the windowsills. They had to hire a gardener now and then, then Poppy would finish the work after a long day at the office.
Mark, meanwhile, lounged on the sofa, only occasionally popping his head up to see if any progress had been made.
Poppy forgave a lot, but the final straw arrived when she trudged home after a grueling shift. Exhausted, she limped past a corner shop, her hand throbbing from the weight of her tote. She hoped Mark would meet her she called, but there was no answer. She sighed, wiped the sweat from her brow, and heard music spilling from the back garden.
She dropped her bag by the fence and hurried inside, where a raucous party was in full swing. Inside, resentment and fury simmered tonight she was determined to let it all out.
The house was a proper shindig. Loud music rattled the windows, snacks and a hot dinner that Poppy had prepared earlier sat on the table, and Mark, oblivious to his wife, was dancing with a woman whod had one too many drinks and was dressed rather provocatively.
Without a word, Poppy crossed the room, flicked the switch, and the music died.
Mark squinted, his gaze foggy. What are you doing? he slurred, swaying.
I was about to ask you that! Whats going on? Whos that woman?
His dancing partner kept moving as if nothing had changed.
Whatever, Mark huffed. Just an old schoolmate, thats all. Cant I relax in my own home?
If you recall, you said this is my house and you have no right to interfere. So tidy up, see your guest out, and then well talk, Poppy snapped.
I wont! Mark tried to stand, but his legs gave way.
By now Poppys disgust was a solid rock. He was no longer a man; he was a burden. Living with him out of fear of being alone? No thank you.
She seized the unknown woman by the elbow and ushered her toward the gate. Times up for you!
Turning back, she asked Mark, Youre staying or are you getting out?
He shrugged, snatched a salad and a bottle from the table, swayed, and made for the door.
Youll survive without me, you melodramatic fool! he shouted over his shoulder.
Oh dear! cried Mrs. Whitaker, clutching her head. My heads splitting!
Dont shout, Mum! Poppy chased me away because I didnt meet her at the door, Mark lied, hoping his mother would side with him.
Whats there to meet? she asked, puzzled.
Who knows! Shes always finding fault with me. This isnt right, thats wrong! Im exhausted! Do you think my jobs a walk in the park? Why should I help out in someone elses house?
Exactly! Mrs. Whitaker encouraged. Let him sort out the property, claim his share, then ask. Hes being all highandmighty! Im fit as a fiddle, I can manage!
I told her that! And she got upset!
Let her stew! Dont give in! She cant expect you to bow! She wants marriage, shell have to put up with it. Shes not a little girl anymore to stick her nose where it doesnt belong!
What now? Mark asked, his chin drooped.
Hang in there, son! his mother tutored. Shell crawl back like a little kitten after a week alone. Shell realise what shes done! And you, dont give in when she returns, demand a proper tenancy. Otherwise youll be left on your own!
Thus the mother continued doling out advice on handling Poppy, and Mark nodded along, his head bobbing in time.
Youre right, Mum! I wont put up with her whims! Who does she think she is, ordering me around? Im no servant; Im a grown man, my own master!
Following his mothers counsel, Mark decided to act. He vanished from the house, didnt call Poppy, and waited a full week.
Mrs. Whitaker, however, had her own grievances. She hovered over him constantly, demanding this, that. When he tried to push back, she reminded him of the good old tough love methods and gave him a swift tap on the back with a wooden spoon.
Youre not at your wifes place, youre at your mothers! No work, no dinner! she snapped, no nonsense.
Finally, after those seven long days, Mark mustered the courage to return. Im coming home, Mum! Ill see how shes coping without me. Shell be on her knees, begging me to come back!
Go, go! Dont give up! Speak clearly youll only return on your own terms! she urged.
He strutted out like a champion, chin up, shoulders back, as if hed just conquered a mountain.
He reached the gate, stepped into the garden and stopped dead.
Something was wrong.
He looked around: the garden was immaculate, the grass trimmed like a ruler, windows sparkling, flowerbeds pruned, pathways spotless not a hint of overgrowth.
Even the gate was brand new sturdy, not the squeaky, rusted one theyd had.
Mark fished for his key, only to find it no longer fit. He lingered a moment, then knocked firmly on the door.
Inside, footsteps halted, then the door swung open.
But it wasnt the Poppy he knew, the one with dark circles under her eyes. Standing there was a freshfaced, smiling woman, eyes twinkling.
I thought youd be alone, wallowing in misery At least you could have given me a ring! she said, tilting her head playfully.
Why would I? Poppy replied softly, a mischievous grin spreading.
How could I? My husband vanished for a week, and you you could have at least called!
I dont have a husband, she answered calmly.
And where would he have come from? she laughed. There was one visitor once a disastrous one. No point dwelling on that!
Marks face turned a deep shade of crimson. Youre talking about me?! Youll get a slap and then a lecture! I shouldve raised you better! I only felt sorry for you before!
He stepped forward, but Poppy didnt flinch.
From the doorway emerged a tall man, placed a hand on her shoulder and said firmly, Hey, buddy, step off. And do it nicely.
And whos that? A lover? If you shoo him away Ill forgive you and come back! I even promise not to hit! Mark declared, trying to sound generous.
Then the world seemed to hiccup. Time wobbled, gravity hiccupped one moment he was standing, the next he was sprinting as if chased by devils, with unseen forces pushing him faster.
Poppy stood on the porch, laughing until tears rolled, watching her older brother chase Mark off the property. He literally flew toward the gate while her brother gave him a couple of wellaimed kicks.
As soon as Mark vanished beyond the threshold, the brother slammed the gate shut and turned to his sister.
Poppy, dont you ever think about taking that fool back! I cant believe you put up with him for so long!
She sighed heavily. I was a fool, thats why I stayed. I kept hoping things would change.
You cant change a nut, you can only crack it! If you need a hand with the house, call me, Ill come over. And let him learn that this isnt his playground.
What if he doesnt get the hint?
Then Ill explain it again, her brother winked, and together they went inside.
Inside, the party guests were still watching the spectacle through the windows.
Heres to the birthday girl! someone toasted.
To the honoree! echoed the crowd, glasses clinking.
Poppy smiled. How wonderful it was to have such a caring, strong older brother always ready to back you up.
