Determined to surprise her husband, Margaret returned from visiting her mother three hours early. Stepping into the flat, she couldnt hold back her tears.
Through the train window, Margaret watched fields blur past, thinking of her mum. Shed spent three days nursing herspooning soup, doling out pills. The fever had only broken yesterday.
«You should stay another day,» her mother had insisted that morning.
«Harrys alone at home, Mum. Probably starving by now.»
Now, swaying in her seat, she regretted not listening. But Harry had called every evening, asking after her mum, complaining about the empty fridge. His voice had sounded oddtired, maybe.
«Miss you,» hed mumbled last night before bed.
Margaret had smiled then. Thirty-two years together, and he still missed her. A good man, really.
The train rattled. The woman opposite crunched crisps, nose buried in a paperback romance. On the cover, a glossy-haired woman clung to a suited man. Margaret glanced at her reflection in the glasswrinkles, grey roots creeping in. When had she aged so much?
«Meeting your husband?» the woman asked.
«Yes. Going home.»
«Me? Off to see my lover.» She smirked. «Husband thinks Im at my sisters.»
Margaret flushed and looked away. How could someone say such things so brazenly?
Her phone buzzed.
«Hows your mum? Whenre you back?» Harry had texted.
Margaret checked the time. Four more hours. She almost replied honestlythen stopped. Let it be a surprise. Shed cook dinner. Hed be thrilled.
«Tomorrow morning. Miss you too,» she sent.
Harry hearted the message instantly.
Outside, villages and hedgerows flashed by. Margaret unscrewed her thermosmum had packed tea and sandwiches, fussing like she was still a child.
«Youve gone thin, love. Bet that Harry doesnt notice what you eat.»
«Mum, Im fifty-seven.»
«And? Youll always be my girl.»
Chewing a ham sandwich, Margaret thought of her childhood home. Just Mum there now. Dad had passed five years back. Mum refused to move in with them»Youve your own lives,» shed say.
But Margaret loved caring for people. Always had. First her parents, then Harry, the kids. Shed taught primary school until Simon was born, then stayed home. Then Emily came along. Somehow, decades slipped by between laundry and packed lunches.
Now the kids were grownSimon up north with his own family, Emily married with a toddler. She was a grandmother herself.
And what now?
The train hissed to a stop. Margaret gathered her things, nodded goodbye to the crisps woman. The platform was chaos. The bus home took half an hour.
She imagined Harrys shock. He expected her tomorrow. Shed pop into Tescoget nice steak, baby potatoes. Cook something fancy.
The checkout girl grinned. «Special occasion?»
«Just my husbands waiting.»
The bags weighed a ton. She barely made it to the lift. Fumbled forever with her keys.
Finally, the door swung open.
«Harry? Its me!» she called. «Im back!»
Silence. Asleep, probably. Nearly 10 PM.
She set the shopping down, shrugged off her coat. Oddlights were on. Harry never slept with them on.
Hanging her coat, she froze.
High heels by the door. Black, patent, elegant.
«Harry?» she whispered.
Her pulse thudded. Maybe Emilys? But why wouldnt she warn them?
A womans laugh trickled from the kitchen.
Not Emilys voice.
Margaret pressed against the wall. Legs jelly.
«Youre ridiculous, Harry,» the woman purred.
«Margarets not back till tomorrow. Weve time,» Harry murmured.
Margarets breath snagged. Who was this? What were they
«what if she comes early?» the woman asked.
«She wont. Always sticks to plans.»
Their laughter coiled down the hall. Margaret edged forward. The kitchen door was ajar.
Harry sat at the table, hair mussed, grinning. Oppositea blonde, thirtyish, in Margarets dressing gown.
Two coffee cups. A half-eaten Victoria sponge. Harry held her hand.
«Liz, youre brilliant,» he murmured.
Liz?
«And your wife? You said you loved her.» She toyed with her hair.
«I do. But thisthis makes me feel alive.»
Margaret clutched the doorframe. Thirty-two years. Thirty-two years of trust, and he
«Harry,» she croaked.
They whipped around. Harry went sheet-white. The blondeLizjumped up, clutching the robe.
«M-Margaret? You said»
«Who. Is. This.»
«Liz. From flat 52. Just helping with»
«A leaky tap?» Margarets laugh scraped raw. «In my robe?»
Liz edged toward the door. «I should go»
«Stay!» Margaret blocked her. «Explain this!»
«Nothing happened!» Harry blurted. «We talked!»
«Four hours?» Margarets voice cracked. «Over coffee?»
Harrys gaze darted. «Shes lonely»
«And Im what? Furniture?»
«You only talk about the grandkids, the shopping»
Margaret slammed her fist on the table. «I gave up everything! For you! For this!»
Liz bolted past, yanking off the robejeans and a jumper underneath. The front door slammed.
Silence.
Harry reached for her. «Margaret»
She recoiled. «How long?»
«Six months.»
The floor tilted. Six months of lies. Six months of goodnight kisses while he
«Im leaving.»
«Where? Its midnight!»
«Anywhere but here.»
She wrenched open the door. Harrypaunchy, balding, pathetic in his vestgrabbed her arm.
«Please»
«Go talk to Liz about life,» Margaret spat. «See how that fills your fridge.»
The stairwell swallowed her sobs. No lifthe might follow.
Outside, freezing. Where? Emilys? Too latethe baby. Mumslast train gone.
She called Sarah. Her oldest friend.
«Margaret? Christ, whats»
«Can I come over?»
Sarah answered the door bleary-eyed. Tea was made. The story spilled out.
«Bastard,» Sarah said simply. «All of them, bastards.»
«I dont know what to do.»
«Kick him out.»
«But»
«Precisely why he thought youd swallow this.»
Dawn found her staring at Sarahs ceiling. Memories flickeredtheir first date, tiny Simons fingers curled around hers, Harry working late more and more these past years.
Shed blamed midlife crisis.
Turns out it was Liz.
Emily called at nine. «Mum? Dads frantic»
«Tell him Im at Auntie Sarahs. Thinking.»
Harry bombarded her phone. She ignored it. By evening, he turned up at Sarahs.
«Margaretlets talk.»
She stepped into the hall. «Talk.»
«Its over with Liz. I swear.»
«Until the next Liz.»
«There wont be! I love you!»
Margaret studied himrumpled, red-eyed. Probably sincere. Right now.
«Harry,» she said softly, «Im fifty-seven. Maybe its time I lived for me.»
«How?»
«Work. Travel. Remember what I wantnot just what you want.»
«Were family»
«Family respects each other.»
His shoulders slumped. «What now?»
«Space. If you realise you need menot a housekeeper who warms your bedcome back. Otherwise» She shrugged.
Harry nodded stiffly. «Ill fight for you.»
«Well see.»
Sarah hugged her after he left. «Bloody brave.»
«Terrified.»
«Good.»
Rain tapped the window. A strange, quiet smile curled Margarets lips.
Tomorrowjob hunting. Then visiting Mum. Maybe Harry would change. Maybe shed find life without him wasnt so bleak.
For now? The rain kept rhythm. For the first time in years, the future was hers to shape.
