Lucy stands in the middle of the kitchen, phone in hand, her cheeks flushed with anger. Did you tell my mother Im a bad husband? she asks Adam, who watches her with a frown.
Lucy turns from the hob, where a patty sizzles. A drop of oil splatters onto the linoleum, hissing.
What? What are you talking about?
My mum just called. She says she knows everything about our relationship that I dont value you, that I behave like a child, that shes figured it all out.
Lucy, I never said anything to my mum. We havent spoken in weeks.
Then how does she know about our argument over the fishing trip? I only mentioned that yesterday!
Lucy switches off the stove and wipes her hands on a towel, her heart pounding. She hasnt told anyone about the fishing incident. Except
Ive been texting Emily, she says slowly. Only Emily, just the two of us.
And now Emily is feeding my mother details about our private life?
No way. Emilys my best friend, shed never
The phone rings. Its Lucys motherinlaw. She glances at Adam, who nods, meaning answer.
Hello, Margaret.
Lucy, I need to speak to you seriously. Can you come over today?
Whats happened?
Better to discuss in person. Its important.
Lucy agrees, hangs up, her hands trembling. How could Margaret have learned about the messages Lucy sent to Emily?
Ill drive to her, she tells Adam. We need to sort this out.
Adam nods, looking uneasy. They have lived together five years; their relationship has been steady, with few major disputes. Margaret, however, has always been a source of friction. Domineering and convinced she knows whats best for her son, she believes no one is worthy of Adam. Lucy tries to keep the peace, to be polite, but she occasionally snaps, and those outbursts end up vented to Emily, a university friend she has known for fifteen years.
Emily is the one person Lucy can unload her grievances about her motherinlaw, her husband, and life in general onto. They have shared everythingfrom first romances to being each others bridesmaid. Emily knows every detail, absolutely everything.
Now, somehow, all that information reaches Margaret.
Lucy pulls on her coat and drives to Margarets flat in the neighbouring borough, a modest threebedroom council flat where Adam grew up. Margaret, a widowed woman for ten years, has devoted her life to her son and feels entitled to oversee his every move.
Margaret opens the door, her expression stern and unapproachable.
Come in. Would you like a cup of tea?
No, thank you. Margaret, whats going on?
Margaret steps into the sitting room, settles into her favourite armchair, while Lucy remains standing.
Take a seat, dont just stand there like a statue.
She perches on the edge of the sofa, fixing Lucy with a long, heavy gaze.
Ive always felt youre not sincere with me. You smile and nod, but behind my back youre saying all sorts of things.
I dont understand what you mean.
Read this. Margaret slides a phone across the coffee table.
On the screen is the whole chat between Lucy and Emily. Lucy recognises her own messages, scrolling down, deeper and deeper. Its all there: complaints about Margarets interference, irritation at Margarets ten calls a day, annoyance at the way she critiques Lucys cooking.
Where did you get this? Lucy whispers.
Your friend Emily was here yesterday. She dropped by for a cuppa, and while we were looking through some photos she suddenly showed me your messages. She said she wanted me to see the truth about how you really feel about me.
Lucy feels the colour drain from her face. Emilyher best friendwhy?
This is private correspondence, Lucy says. Everyone has a right to vent to a friend. It doesnt mean I disrespect you.
Disrespect? No, youve written that Im an old nag, that Im suffocating you, that it would be better if you moved to the countryside and stopped interfering. You called me a motherboy who cant stand up to me.
I was angry when I wrote that, Lucy admits. Everyone has moments of weakness.
Moments of weakness? Look at these hundreds of messages over years! Youve hated me and pretended to be sweet all along.
Lucy stands abruptly.
I never hated you. I was just fed up with the pressure and needed someone to share it with.
Now share it with the whole neighbourhood, Margaret retorts, rising as well. Ive shown this to all my acquaintances. Let everyone know who you really are.
What?
You ridiculed me behind my back, now youll feel what its like.
Lucy snatches her bag and bolts out of the flat, stumbling down the stairs, tears blurring her vision. She gets into her car but the engine wont turn over; her hands shake so hard the key slips from her fingers.
Emily. How could she? Why?
Lucy dials Emilys number. The line rings endlessly until finally Emily picks up.
Hey, Lucy! How are you?
How could you?
What do you mean? Whats happening?
Dont play dumb! You showed my mum our messages!
Emily pauses.
Right I did. It sort of slipped out.
It slipped out? You went to her on purpose!
I just wanted to meet your husbands mother. I thought it would be harmless. I was scrolling through photos and the chat popped up. I didnt plan it.
Dont lie to me! Why would you do that?
Emily sighs. Lucy, Im tired of being your emotional punching bag. Fifteen years youve complained about everyoneparents, classmates, bosses, now my motherinlaw and your husband. Im fed up.
If you were fed up, you could have just said so! Why the underhandedness?
It wasnt underhanded. I was just showing the truth. Margaret has a right to know how I feel.
Youre my friend of fifteen years!
We were friends. We were friends. But Im not interested in staying close to someone who only whines and never changes.
Emily hangs up. Lucy stares at the dead screen, the world collapsing around her. Her friend betrayed her, her motherinlaw is now openly hostile, and Adam looks upset.
She finally gets the car started and drives home. Adam meets her in the hallway.
So? he asks.
Emily showed Margaret our messages on purpose.
Why?
I dont know. She said she was tired of being my vent.
Adam pulls her into a hug. Lucy leans into his shoulder, tears spilling.
Itll be okay, he says. Well sort it out.
Your mum showed the chats to everyone. Now everyone knows what I wrote.
What exactly did you write?
Lucy steps back, looking at him.
Things like how your mum drives me mad, how you sometimes act like a child, how its hard for me.
Adam frowns.
So youve been complaining about me to a friend for years?
Not for yearssometimes, when things are tough.
What did you actually say?
Its not the time to go through that now.
No, it is. I want to know what youve been saying behind my back.
Lucy walks into the living room and sits on the sofa, her head throbbing. Adam sits opposite her.
Fine, Ill tell you. She takes a breath. I said youre too attached to your mother, that youre scared to stand up to her, that when she visits you become a different person.
Adam stays silent.
Or the time I wanted to go to my dads birthday, and your mum said it clashed with her own birthday, so we had to stay with her. You didnt even try to reschedule.
Cant move a birthday, Adam replies.
You could have celebrated another day! My fathers 60th was important!
My mum is more important.
Lucy looks at him.
You just said that yourself, and now youre upset I told a friend.
To a former friend, apparently.
Adam sighs.
They sit in silence as dusk falls, the kitchens meat pies cooling on the stove.
The phone rings again, an unknown number.
Hello? Lucy answers.
This is Tamara Lewis, a friend of Margarets. She showed me your messages.
Lucy closes her eyes.
What?
I just wanted to say youre right. Margaret is overly controlling, always meddling. Ive known her thirty years, and shes a nightmare. Youre not wrong to vent.
Thank you, Lucy manages.
And your friend Emilywhat a piece of work. Showing private chats on purpose is nasty. Id cut her off if I were you.
I wont.
Tamara hangs up. Lucy looks at Adam.
Your mothers friend called. She said Im right about Margaret.
Adam raises an eyebrow. Tamara Lewis? She always sides with my mum.
Even her friends see Ive been pushed too far.
Adam nods slowly. Maybe we should talk to Margaret properly.
Later that night the phone rings repeatedlyneighbors, relatives of Margaret, people taking sides. Some condemn Lucy, others support her. One woman calls her ungrateful, another says she knows how it feels to have a domineering motherinlaw.
Turn it off, Adam suggests. Well deal with this tomorrow.
Lucy does. They eat dinner in silence, then head to bed, but sleep evades them. Lucy lies awake, replaying the days events.
Emily was her confidante for fifteen yearsshe was there when Lucy fell in love with Adam, helped plan the wedding, held Lucys hand during a miscarriage. And now Emily deliberately showed the messages to Margaret. Why?
Morning comes; Lucy wakes with swollen eyes and a heavy head. Adam is already down, having breakfast.
Morning. Did you sleep? he asks.
Poorly.
Ive been thinking. Maybe we should meet Emily and clear the air.
I have nothing to say to her.
But fifteen years of friendship dont just vanish.
Its her fault, not mine.
Adam remains quiet, sipping his tea.
I called my mum. I told her she was wrong to broadcast the messages.
What did she say?
She claimed she had the right to defend herself.
Exactly.
Lucy, maybe you shouldnt have written those things at all.
What?
Writing bad things about people is risky. It eventually surfaces.
So Im to blame?
I didnt mean it like that.
You think Im at fault for everything?
Just saying you could have been more careful.
Lucy snaps up from the table, heads to the bathroom, splashes cold water over her face, trying to steady herself. Adam isnt on her sideagain, its always about his mother.
A knock sounds at the door. Lucy peers through the peephole. Emily stands there.
Dont open, Adam warns, moving toward the door.
I wont.
Lucy, open! I need to talk! Emily pleads, pounding.
Leave, Lucy says. I have nothing to say.
Please! I need to explain!
Its too late.
Emilys voice softens: I thought if Margaret knew how you really felt, shed leave you alone. I was naive.
Lucy opens the door. Emily is pale, eyes red.
Did you really think that would work? Lucy asks.
I wanted to help. Youve been venting for years; I was tired of listening. I thought the truth would set things right.
People like Margaret dont change. They only get more stubborn when challenged.
I didnt think it through. Im sorry.
Adam steps in. Emily, why did you tell Lucy that you were fed up being her crying cushion?
Emily looks down. I was angry. Shed scream at me, blame me. I lost my temper.
Do you really believe that? Lucy asks. That I only whine and never act?
Sometimes, yes. But I still want to be friends.
Lucy sips the bitter coffee, its sugar insufficient.
I dont know if we can go back to how things were. Trust is hard to rebuild.
Well see. Maybe we start as acquaintances, not best friends, and see if it works.
Emily nods.
They finish their coffee, talk about weather, jobs, the newslight, tensionfree. Perhaps time will heal.
Back home Adam greets Lucy with flowers.
Whats this for? she asks.
Just because. Im proud of you for meeting Emily.
Im not sure well ever be friends again, but its worth trying.
Fifteen years is a long time.
The next day Margaret calls, suggesting a teatime catchup. Lucy agrees. They meet at the same café where Lucy met Emily. Margaret arrives in a fresh suit, her hair neatly styled.
You look lovely, she says.
Thank you, you too.
They order tea and scones. Margaret remains quiet for a while, then speaks.
Lucy, I want a fresh start. I realise Ive been too intrusive, trying to control everything about you and Adam.
Lucy watches her, tears welling. For the first time in years, Margaret shows vulnerability.
I was scared of losing my son after my husband died. Hes my only one, and when he married, I felt abandoned.
I didnt take him away, Lucy replies. I just married.
Margaret nods. I see that now. I behaved selfishly.
Lucy takes a breath. I should have spoken to you directly instead of venting to a friend.
I forgive you, and I hope you can forgive me.
They finish tea, chat about summer plans and the small renovation Margaret is tackling in her flat. The conversation feels ordinary, human.
That evening Lucy stands on the balcony with a glass of wine. Adam joins, slipping his arm around her shoulders.
What are you thinking about? he asks.
How strange life is. Sometimes everything falls apart so it can be rebuilt stronger.
About Emily and your mum?
About them, about us, about everything.
He kisses the top of her head.
I love you.
And I love you.
They watch the sunset together. Somewhere else, Emily looks out of her flat window, reflecting on friendship. In another part of town, Margaret sifts through old photos, remembering a younger Adam. All these people are linked by invisible threads, each carrying their own pains, fears, and hopes.
Life goes on, and that feels just right.
