Youre an orphan, wholl stand up for you? jeered my husband as he threw me out of the house.
Wheres the money you handed me yesterday? David stormed into the kitchen, his face flushed with anger.
Emma turned from the stove where the mince pies were sizzling. Drops of fat hissed on the hot pan.
Money? You never gave me any.
Dont lie! Five hundred pounds for groceries! I left it on the dresser in the bedroom!
Dave, I didnt take that cash. Maybe you mislaid it somewhere else.
Ive turned the whole flat upside down! Its gone! You mustve spent it on your knickknacks!
Emma switched off the hob and wiped her hands on the apron. Four years of marriage had taught her to expect these accusations, yet each one still cut deep.
David, I didnt touch your money. I have my own wages, why would I steal?
Wages, you say he scoffed. Your pocketmoney from the shop? Thats not a wage, its an allowance!
At the doorway appeared his mother, Margaret Evans. Shed moved in half a year ago after selling her flat, claiming shed ploughed the proceeds into her sons business, though David was merely a site manager for a construction firm.
Whats all this shouting? she asked, scanning the kitchen. Another row?
Mum, she nicked my five hundred pounds!
I didnt take anything, Emma whispered.
Margaret stepped closer, eyeing her daughterinlaw from head to toe.
David never gave me any cash yesterday. He gave it to me for safekeeping because, dear, you cant handle money yourself. Youd waste it all.
Emma felt the walls close in. Again, they were against her.
Margaret, if you took the cash, just say so. Why pile the blame on me?
Youre calling my mother a thief? David snapped.
I never said that. I just want the truth.
Theres nothing to discuss, Margaret said, pulling a few notes from the pocket of her cardigan. Heres the money. I took it so you wouldnt spend it on nonsense. David, take this and buy yourself a decent shirt; you cant go to work in those rags.
David slipped the notes into his pocket without looking at Emma.
Thanks, Mum. You always look out for me.
Emma stood mute, the sting of humiliation simmering inside. In this house any show of feeling turned against her.
The patties are burning, Margaret remarked. Everythings falling apart. The landladys a hopeless one.
Emma returned to the pan; the mince pies were indeed blackening on one side. She flipped them, breathing steadily, trying not to break, not to weep, just to get the job done.
Four years ago things had been different. David had courted her sweetly, bringing flowers and taking her out for tea. Emma worked at the same local supermarket she still did, a plain shop assistant with no qualifications or connections. Shed grown up in a childrens home, later moving into a council flat after leaving care. Life had been hard but hers.
Then David appearedgoodlooking, confident, with a solid job. Hed noticed her in the shop, started chatting, joking, inviting her on dates. Emma could hardly believe her luck: a man like that and her, a girl from the care system with no family.
Their wedding was modest. Emmas side sent only a flatmate from the council block; Davids side brought his mother, a few relatives and friends. Margaret watched Emma with a thinly veiled disapproval, though she kept it hidden.
After the ceremony Emma moved into Davids twobedroom flat in a Manchester suburb. She kept working, managed the home, and tried to be a good wife. Gradually, things shifted.
First came little criticismsshed oversalt the soup, iron the shirt wrong, mishandle the money. Then accusations piled up: she spent too much, dressed poorly, was uneducated.
When Margaret moved in, the atmosphere soured completely. She seized the role of the households ruler, critiquing every move Emma made, meddling in everything, turning David against his own wife. And David, ever the dutiful son, listened to his mother.
Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Emma announced, setting the table.
Finally, David said, slumping into his chair, phone in hand. Im famished.
Margaret inspected the spread.
The salads watery, and theres hardly any bread. Are you pinching pennies?
I bought exactly what we need for the week, according to the list you drew up.
Dont argue with your elders. Young people these days have lost all respect.
The meal passed in tense silence; David ate mechanically, Margaret sighed repeatedly, and Emma barely touched her plate.
Afterwards she washed the dishes while David and his mother lounged in the living room, watching television, laughing together. Emma felt like a servant forced to live under their roof.
That night David went to bed without even wishing her a good night. Emma lay awake, staring at the darkness. When had she become so miserable? When had she stopped being a loved wife and become a burden?
The next morning she rose early, as usual, prepared breakfast, packed Davids lunch, and watched him leave muttering something incomprehensible.
Emma, we need to talk, Margaret entered the kitchen as Emma finished her tea.
Im listening.
The flat is cramped for three of us. Its getting tight.
I know, but we cant afford a bigger place yet.
Thats why David and I think you should find somewhere else to stay for a while. Rent a room, perhaps. You do have a salary, after all.
Margaret, this is my husbands flat. Im his wife.
Wife? Margaret smirked. What kind of wife are you? You cant have children, youre useless around the house, youre not a beauty. David could do better.
David chose me, Emma said quietly.
He made a mistake. People make mistakes. But mistakes need fixing.
Youre suggesting I leave my husband?
Im suggesting you make his life easier. You dont have to divorce; just live apart for now. Maybe thatll be better.
Emma stood, hands trembling, trying to keep her composure.
Ill speak to David.
Talk, talk. Hes already agreed with me. It was his idea.
The whole day at work Emma replayed the conversation. Could David really want her out? Did four years mean nothing?
That evening she got home earlier than usual. David was already there, sipping tea with his mother.
Dave, I need a word, just the two of us.
Speak in front of Mum, she already knows everything.
Its about us.
He sighed, went to the bedroom, and Emma followed, closing the door behind them.
Your mother said you want me to leave. Is that true?
David turned toward the window.
Its true. We need space. Mums here, Im uncomfortable, and youre just taking up room.
Im your wife!
A wife who hasnt given me a child in four years, who works as a shop assistant and brings home pocketmoney. What good are you?
The doctors said my health isnt the problem. Its you
Shut up! he snapped, eyes flashing. Its your inheritance from the care home! Who knows whats in your blood!
What does my background have to do with this? My parents died in a crash when I was three. Im a normal, healthy person!
Normal, he sneered. No family, no roots, nothing. I married a fool, regretted taking in an orphan, and now youre a burden.
Tears rose, but Emma held them back.
So you want a divorce?
I want you out. Just out, for now. Well see what happens later.
Where should I go?
I dont know. Back to the council block, or rent a room. Thats your problem.
Dave, I love you. Can we try again?
Too late, Emma. Its decided. Pack your things.
When?
Tomorrow. You have the night to sort yourself out.
He left the room, leaving her alone on the bed theyd shared for four years, where shed once dreamed of children, a happy family, a future. Everything collapsed in an instant.
She began stuffing a bag: clothes, documents, a few pounds shed hidden, photos, books. Not much of hers remained.
Margaret peeked in.
Smart girl. You get it, dont cause a scene.
I dont want a scene, Emma said, continuing to pack.
Good. Slip out quietly. Dave will find someone proper, from a respectable family.
Emma said nothing. Margarets disdain had always painted her as unworthy of her son, and it had finally won.
In the morning Emma dressed, grabbed her bags. David was still asleep. Margaret was sipping tea in the kitchen.
Leaving?
Yes.
Put the keys on the table.
Emma placed the keys down and walked to the hallway, pausing at the door, looking back at the flat that had been her home for four years. She would never return.
She descended the stairs, out onto the street. Early dawn, almost empty. Where to go? Her council flat was now occupied, and renting a room required money she barely hadjust a few hundred pounds.
She went to work, arrived early, sat in the staff room, bags beside her. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldnt comeonly a hollow emptiness.
Emma? Why so early? Veronica Parker, the store manager, appeared in the doorway. A stern but fair woman in her fifties.
Just couldnt sleep.
Veronica eyed the bags.
Whats happened?
Nothing. All fine.
Dont lie. Ive known you four years; I can tell when youre not being straight. Talk.
And Emma poured out everythingher husband, her motherinlaw, being thrown out. Veronica listened, shaking her head occasionally.
Those bastards, she said when Emma finished. Sorry for the language, but thats how it feels.
I dont know what to do.
My daughter lives in Leeds; her flats empty. You can crash there until you get sorted.
Veronica, I cant
You can and you will. Im not your boss, Im just Veronica. Pack your things, well go after your shift.
But Ill owe you.
Well sort that later. First you need a roof.
Emma finally let the tears flow, grateful for a strangers kindness.
That evening they drove to Veronicas modest twobedroom flat on the citys edge. The spare room was small, with a narrow bed, a desk, and a cupboard.
Make yourself at home. The beds fresh, I changed the sheets yesterday. If you need anything, just say.
Thank you so much. I dont even know how to thank you.
No need. We all get a bit of help once in a while. I was in a similar spot once.
Emma arranged her belongings, feeling the strange comfort of being a guest rather than a scolded wife.
The next day David called.
Where are you? I need the box you left.
Ive taken everything.
Theres still a box with your junk. Ill pick it up today.
I cant, Im at work late.
Then tomorrow. Mum needs space for her stuff.
He hung up without asking how she was, merely mentioning a box.
Emma returned to work, the conversation replaying in her mind.
The following day David arrived, handing over a cardboard box.
Here, take it.
Can I come in?
Why?
I want to discuss something.
He grudgingly let her in. The flat smelled of unfamiliar incense. In the lounge sat a young woman, about twentyfive, immaculate and confident.
Emma, this is Lena, David said. Lena, meet Emma, my former wife.
Former? Were not divorced.
Formalities. Ill file the papers soon.
Lena stared at Emma with barely concealed superiority.
So youve already found a replacement, Emma murmured.
Im not a replacement, Lena replied, standing. Im his girlfriend, real, not some temporary thing.
David, how long have you been seeing her?
He averted his gaze.
Six months.
Six months. While Emma tried to be a good wife, hed been dating someone else.
You cheated and then blamed me for everything, Emma said.
Dont make a scene. Youre an orphan, wholl stand up for you? David smirked, looking down at her. Youve got no one. No one will protect you. So pack your box and get out.
Emma took the box, hands shaking, the sting of humiliation burning inside, but she kept her composure and walked out.
On the way back to Veronicas she wept, the tears finally spilling. How could someone be so cruel?
Veronica met her with tea and a slice of cake.
Saw him?
Yeah. Hes already with someone else, six months.
Bastard. Im sorry, Emma, but hes a scumbag.
He called me an orphan and said no one would defend me.
Veronica set down the cup.
Hes wrong. There are people who will. Me, the girls from the shop, anyone who cares.
Thanks, but whats the point? Hell divorce, marry someone else, and forget me.
Thatll be the best thing for you. Youll be free of that idiot and can build a proper life.
That weekend Veronicas friend Allie, also from the shop, dropped by.
How can you kick someone out like that!
Apparently you can, Emma said, a faint smile forming.
Have you spoken to the manager? We have a staff assistance scheme; you could get some money.
I didnt know.
Talk to Maria Stevens on Monday. Shell help.
On Monday Emma did exactly that. Maria listened, furrowed her brow, then said,
Those blokes are awful. Ill arrange a hardship payment and a bonus for this month. It should cover the first rent deposit.
Thank you so much.
We dont abandon our own. Youre a solid worker, honest. People like you deserve support.
That evening a stranger called.
Emma? Im Tamara, Margarets sister.
Yes?
I heard you were thrown out. Im against that. My sister treated her son terribly, and I know how it feels. If you need anything, let me know.
Why help me?
Because Ive been there. My first husband kicked me out. I understand.
They talked for a while; Tamara shared her story, gave advice, and offered help. By the end Emma felt steadier.
A week later she found a room in a shared house. It was cheap but decent. The landlady, an elderly lady called Zinnia, welcomed her warmly.
Live peacefully, love. I keep order here, but Im not a nag. Just keep it tidy and quiet.
Emma settled into her modest nook, hung photos, arranged books. It was cramped, humble, but hersno one to belittle her there.
David sent a message about the divorce. Emma accepted all his terms, asked for nothing, just wanted to close that chapter.
Three months passed. Emma grew accustomed to the new rhythm: work, home, occasional coffees with Veronica and the others. A quiet, steady life, freeAnd for the first time in years, Emma felt hopeful about the future.
