**The Crocodile Handbag**
Saturday unfolded like a quiet, watercolour dream. A soft rain traced crooked paths down the windowpanes, and the flat carried the scent of freshly steeped tea and that peculiar Saturday stillnessthe kind that settles after a weeks labour. Emily curled into the armchair, the one inherited from Gran, its cushions sagging with age, and cradled her favourite mug. The warmth seeped into her palms like a whispered secret.
*This is bliss*, she thought inhaling the teas fragrance. No chatter, no talk of work or money, no reminders that it was high time for something or other. Just her, steaming tea, and a new series glowing on the tablet.
These stolen hours had become her sanctuary lately. James, her husband, had been jobless for three months, and the house had slowly warped into a silent battleground. He spent his days glued to the computershooting pixelated enemies, cheering on football matches, supposedly job-huntingthough the screen rarely displayed anything resembling a job listing.
Love! James voice shattered the quiet like a firework. Youll never guess! Mums picked out her anniversary gift!
He bounded into the room, grinning like a schoolboy whod just aced a spelling test. Emily dragged her eyes from the screen, suspicion prickling at the back of her neck. His tone was all wrong.
A crocodile leather handbag! James barrelled on, oblivious. Shes wanted one for ages!
Emily set her mug down slowly, fingers tightening around the handle.
A crocodile handbag? Did she choose it herself, or was it suggested? And did she stop to think what the animal rights lot might say?
The sarcasm slid right past him.
Shes my mother! She deserves it!
Deserves it? Something cold coiled in Emilys chest. Enlighten mewhat exactly has she done to earn it? Granted, she raised *you*. But Ive got my own parents. And how much is this gift costing?
James coughed, suddenly fascinated by the floor.
Oh, peanuts, really About five of your monthly wages.
The room tilted.
Five *what*? Her voice was dangerously level.
Well, its *Nile crocodile*, not some pleather knockoff, he said, as if that explained everything.
And why are you telling *me*? I couldnt care less.
James shuffled, gaze darting away.
Well I sort of put it on credit.
On *credit*? The words dripped ice.
Yeah. Cheers to my sis, Lizzieshe sorted it. Works at the bank, you know. Fast-tracked the whole thing
And whose names on it?
A dreadful understanding began to dawn.
Well, whose dyou think *yours*. Who else? Just borrowed your details
Emily stood without a word, moving toward him like a storm rolling in. She wanted to throttle him. Or at least lob the teapot at his head.
So, James darling, youve been unemployed for *three months*, decided to spoil Mummy, and *Im* footing the bill?
James retreated a step, sensing danger.
Em, its just how it worked out Youre the only one earning
*I* am working! And you, instead of job-hunting, instead of *providing* like a proper husband, sit there like a toddler on half-term and think I havent got enough on my plate without your bloody loan!
Em, dont blow a gasket! Its just a loanno drama
Then his mother, Margaret, swept in like a judge entering court. Her visits were always thinly veiled inspections.
Whats all this racket? she demanded, arms crossed.
Nothing, Mum. Emilys just in a twist about the loan, James muttered.
Whats there to twist about? Margaret sniffed. Family helps family. Thats how it works.
Is it? Emilys smile was razor-thin. So *my* duty is to fund extravagant gifts, and yours is what, exactly?
Youve a decent salary. Whats the fuss? Margaret countered.
Right. And James? Whats *his* role?
James is my sonyour *husband*. You should stand by him.
*Husband*? Emily laughed. Is that what you call a man who takes loans in his wifes name because hes too lazy to work? Whos leeching off me like some posh student?
Emily! James spluttered. Thats out of order! Were *family*!
Fine, Emily said, lips pressed tight. Ill sort it tomorrow. And trust meitll be *sorted*.
Her smile then was odd, private, and it made James stomach lurch. She already knew exactly how to fix this.
Good girl, Margaret nodded, smug.
The next day, Emily workedand made a few calls. By evening, shed arranged a meeting.
When she returned, she greeted James with a smile sweet enough to rot teeth.
Darling! News!
Oh? He lounged on the sofa, clueless.
Ive paid off that loan. For the crocodile bag.
*What*? Blimey! He nearly toppled over. Knew youd sort it! How? Whered you get the cash?
Easy. Sold your car.
James turned to stone.
You*what*? My *car*?
Sold it. Quick sale, just covered the loan.
Have you lost the plot?! How am I meant to get about?
Emily batted her lashes.
Ride the handbag like a pony. I read some bags are made from *special* leatherstroke em right, and they turn into a suitcase. Your mums isnt one of those, is it?
She bit back a laugh. James went puce.
You cant *do* that! Tell me youre joking! That was *my* car! And you flogged it for pennies? Thatsthats *mental*!
Now youre carless, Im debt-free, and Mummys got her bag. Fairs fair, no?
Margaret stormed in, drawn by the uproar.
Whats happened now?
Mum, shes *sold my car*! Its a disaster!
So? Emily shrugged. Loans are *family* matters. Isnt that what you said?
That was *different*! You had no rightits *his*! Margarets voice turned shrill. Hows he meant to manage?
Did you ask *me* before saddling me with debt? Emilys chin lifted. Now were even.
This is *outrageous*! Who does she think she is? Margaret hissed, as if Emily had nicked the Crown Jewels.
Outrageous is you two treating me like a cash machine, Emily shot back.
James floundered.
Em, *think*! Were *family*! Were a *unit*!
A unit? Brilliant. Then heres the plan: since youre the least useful part, pack your bags and move in with Mummy. Let her feed you and pay your broadband. Ill finally live for *me*.
Emily plonked onto the sofa, picking up her tablet with finality. After a beat, she added cheerfully:
Oh, and Margaretgive that bag a good stroke. You never know what it might turn into.
Two days later, worn down by the frosty silence, James slunk off to his mothers. Margaret huffed and puffed, but Emily ignored her.
For the first time in months, she breathed easy. And she knewtheyd got the message.
Outside, the rain whispered on, but now the Saturday hush was hers alone.
