Helen places her suitcases by the door and, for the first time in ten years, feels truly free.
Helen, are you kidding me? she hears the shop assistant shout. Thats the third time this week!
The shop assistant watches Helen with obvious irritation. Helen stands at the till, her cheeks flushing red, then turning pale, clutching a crumpled note that she hands over for the fifth time.
Sorry, but my husband only gave me £3 for groceries
Only £3! Youre fortyfive and act like a child! He gave you the allowance! the assistant snaps, waving her hands. Do you understand?
I…
I understand everything! I have a line of customers, and youre still debating what to buy with £3! Grab something and go!
Helen snatches a loaf of bread and a carton of milk, pays, darts out of the shop, leans against a wall on the high street and breathes deeply. Tears sting her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. No crying in public.
That evening Simon, her husband, arrives home in a sour mood. Helen meets him in the hallway, takes the briefcase from the coat rack.
Simon, dinners ready. Ive made meat patties and chips
Fried again? he grimaces. My stomach aches from your cooking!
You asked for patties yesterday
Yesterday, yes! And today you change your mind! Is it that hard to remember?
Helen stays silent, lowers her head, and heads to the kitchen. Simon plops into his armchair in front of the television.
Wheres the money? I gave you £4 this morning!
£3. You gave me £3.
Dont argue! I know what I gave!
Fine, £3, Helen says without protest. I bought bread, milk, butter. Here are the receipts.
Simon takes the receipts, scans them.
Bread for 48p? Why so pricey?
Just regular loaf, Simon
Regular costs 30p! You overpaid! Youre wasteful!
Helen bites her lip. Another argument over receipts, over pennies. The same fight every day.
Once, though, things had been different. They met at work when Simon arrived as the new department managerhandsome, confident, successful. He noticed Helen, started courting her.
Helen, youre charming. How about a coffee after work?
Sure.
No talk about work, just getting to know you better.
He was smooth, showered her with compliments and flowers. Helen, after two failed relationships, finally feels like shes found the right one. Simon seems perfect.
They marry quickly, six months after meeting. Helen feels joyous, convinced shes found her destiny.
The first months really are good. Simon is attentive and caring, though he sometimes makes odd remarks.
Helen, that dress doesnt suit you. Its too bright.
I like it
You like it, but you look garish. Wear something grey instead.
Helen changes, trying to please him.
Soon his critiques turn to the kitchen.
The soup is undersalted.
The meat is tough.
That salad is odd.
Helen studies cookbooks, watches recipes, but Simon always finds something to nitpick.
Then he suggests she quit her job.
Helen, why work? I earn well enough to support us.
I enjoy working
You earn pennies there! Stay home, run the house. Our home is a mess, the food is terrible. Do it properly.
Helen gives in, resigns, becomes a housewife. At first she enjoys the slower pace, not having to rise early.
But Simon quickly turns her life into a nightmare. Daily inspections, constant criticism.
Why is there dust on the shelf?
Why isnt the shirt ironed properly?
Why is lunch at one oclock, not at twelvethirty?
Helen rushes, tries to keep up, but pleasing him seems impossible. He always has a new complaint.
Money is the worst part. He gives her a fixed weekly allowance£3, at most £4. He demands a full account of every penny.
Where did the £2 go?
I bought a bun
A bun? You have bread at home!
I wanted something sweet
We dont have rubber money! Ask me next time!
Helen feels absurd, as if she must ask permission to buy a bun.
She looks for work, goes to several interviews, but Simon discovers each and starts fights.
Are you out of your mind? Want to work? Who will keep the house?
I can manage both
You wont! Youre already doing everything halfheartedly! Stop making excuses! Your place is at home!
He bans her from seeing friends, claiming they corrupt her.
Helen, I want to go to Lucys birthday
Lucy? That that woman? Shes been married three times!
Shes my friend
Shes not a friend! Friends support each other, not each others affairs! You wont go!
Helen stays home. Her friends eventually stop inviting her. Theyre hurt, confused.
Lucy tries calling repeatedly.
Helen, whats happening? Youve vanished!
Just busy
Busy? Youre just at home! Lets meet for coffee!
I cant, Lucy. Simon wont like it
Forget Simon! Helen, are you in a cult?
Maybe she isher house is the cult, Simon the guru.
Years passfive, ten. Helen becomes a shadow, moving silently, speaking softly, avoiding attention. Small joys keep her afloat: books she reads in secret, TV shows she watches when Simon is at work.
One day, while shopping for groceries, she hears a familiar voice.
Helen? Is that you?
She turns. Its Lucy, her best friend from eight years ago.
Lucy
Oh my God, youre alive! Lucy hugs her. Where have you been? Ive called, messaged!
I know, sorry. Ive been occupied.
Occupied, Lucy says, studying her. Helen, are you okay? You look… drained.
Im fine.
No, youre not. Youve lost weight, you look hollow. Whats wrong?
Helen tries to joke, but Lucy grabs her hand and pulls her into a nearby café.
Sit down, tell me everything. No arguing.
In the café Helen explains the control, the pennybypenny accounting. Lucys face darkens.
Helen, thats domestic abusepsychological.
Abuse? He never hits me
It doesnt have to be physical! Hes destroying you mentally, monitoring every step!
Maybe hes just demanding.
Demanding! Lucy slams her fist on the table. Wake up! He treats you like a servant! Are you a person or a robot?
A person
Then why let him treat you like this?
Helen cant answer. Love? Its gone, leaving only habit and fear.
Lucy, how would I leave? I have nothing!
You have yourself! Find a job, get your own place!
At fortyfive? Who needs me?
Youre a qualified accountant! Youll find work. I can help, I have contacts.
Lucy does help. Within a week she calls, says theres a vacancy at a small firm, decent salary, flexible hours.
Go to the interview. I spoke to the manager; hes keen to hire you.
Helen goes, tells Simon shes just going to the shop. The interview goes well. The manager, a fiftyyearold gentleman, looks friendly and reasonable.
MrsHart, why the gap in your employment?
Family reasonshome, husband
I understand. Your experience is solid. I think youll settle in quickly. Start Monday?
Im ready!
She returns home exhilarated. For the first time in years she feels a flicker of joywork, her own money, freedom.
She wonders how to tell Simon. Hell surely object.
That evening, as Simon comes in from work, Helen gathers courage.
Simon, we need to talk.
About what? he doesnt even look up from his phone.
Ive got a job.
Silence hangs. Simon finally looks up.
What did you say?
I got a job. Accountant. I start Monday.
Without my permission?
Simon, Im an adult. I dont need your permission.
He snaps forward, face twisted with anger.
You dont need permission? I said you do! Youre my wife! You should ask!
Ive already signed the contract.
Youll quit tomorrow!
I wont.
What?
I said I wont! Ive had ten years of your control, your nitpickingenough!
Youre rebelling? he grabs her shoulders. Who are you without me?
You give me £3 a weekenough for bread and water!
Youre gluttonous!
I havent bought new clothes in five years! I wear rags while you splurge every month!
I have to look presentable at work!
I do too! Im a human too!
Simon raises his hand. Helen closes her eyes, expecting a blow. He doesnt strike; he turns and storms into the next room, slamming the door so hard the windows shake.
Helen stands in the kitchen, shaking, knees weak, but a strange lightness fills her. She has finally spoken her truth.
Monday arrives. Helen walks into the office. Simon stays silent, doesnt say goodbye, but doesnt block her. He seems to be waiting, watching.
The office feels alien at firstdesks, colleagues, tasks. Helen feels out of place, but gradually she adapts, recalling old skills, learning new software.
Her coworker Iris, a woman her age, also works in accounting.
Helen, hows it going? Managing okay?
Trying. Ive forgotten a lot over the years.
Dont worry, youll remember soon. If you need anything, just ask.
Helens first paycheck arrives a month later: £285. To some its tiny, but to her its a fortune. She holds the envelope, stunnedher own money earned by her own hands.
She goes to the shop, buys a bright new cardigan shes wanted, decent groceries, even a cake for no reason.
Simon spots the bags, frowns.
Whats this?
Groceries and a cardigan.
Whered the money come from?
From my salary.
He rummages through the bag, pulls out the cardigan, eyes it.
How much?
£17.
£17 for a piece of cloth! Wasteful! I told you to save!
Its my money. I earned it.
Its not yours! Were a family, everythings shared!
Then my money is also shared. Lets pool it.
Simon falls silent, realizing hes been outmaneuvered.
Fine, do what you like. From now on you pay for your own food. I wont give you a penny.
Great, Ill pay myself.
He storms out, slamming the door. Helen looks at the cardigan, the bags, smilesa genuine smile after a long time.
Months pass. Helen grows to love her job; colleagues become friends. She joins them for drinks after work, watches films on weekends. Simon grumbles, but cant stop her.
Again with your babes!
These are my colleagues, my friends.
Friends? Youre being turned against me!
No ones turning me. I see things clearly now.
What do you see?
Ive lived ten years in a cage. Now the cage is open.
Simons anger intensifies as he loses control. One night Helen stays late finishing a report. A drunken, angry Simon meets her in the hallway.
Where have you been?
At work. I stayed late.
Youre lying! You were with someone!
With who? Simon, youre drunk. Go to bed.
Im not drunk! He grabs her wrist. Youre cheating! Admit it!
What are you talking about? No one else!
Dont lie! I know everything! Someones there!
Theres no one! Let go!
He shoves her. She crashes into the wall, rubs her back. She looks at him, his eyes blazing. In that instant she knows staying would only make things worse. He wont change.
Enough, she says quietly. Its over.
Whats over?
This marriage. Im leaving.
Where will you go? You have nothing!
I have a job, I have money. Ill get a flat.
You wont survive a week without me!
I will. Youll see.
She heads to the bedroom, pulls out a suitcase, begins packing. Simon watches, bewildered.
Are you serious?
More than serious.
Helen, dont be foolish. Where will you be at eleven tonight?
At Lucys. She let me stay.
At that that woman?
Shes not that. Shes my friend who helped me when I needed it.
Helen zips the suitcase, grabs her bag and coat, moves toward the hallway. Simon lunges, grabs her wrist.
Wait. Lets talk.
Theres nothing to say. Its over.
Helen, please dont go. Ill change.
How many times have you said that? Twenty? Thirty?
Now I really will.
No. You wont. You cant see the problem, so you cant fix it.
She pulls free, opens the door, steps onto the landing. Simon follows, shouting.
Helen! Come back! Youll regret it!
Maybe. But not the way Id regret staying.
She walks down the stairs, out into the cold October wind that slaps her face. She stops, breathes deeply.
Free, for the first time in ten years, she truly feels free.
She calls Lucy.
Lucy, can I come over? Ive left Simon.
Come right away! Im waiting!
Lucy cries, listens to every detail, rubs Helens back.
Helen, Im so proud of you! You finally did it!
Its terrifying, Lucy.
Its scary, but youll manage. Ill help.
Helen stays with Lucy for a week, then rents a small studio flatmodest but hers. She moves her things, decorates. Living alone after so many years feels strange but good. No one monitors her, no one demands reports. She eats whatever she likes, watches whatever she likes, sleeps whenever she wants. Freedom.
Simon calls during the first weeks, begging her to return, promising change. Then he starts threatening.
Youll regret this! Youll end up alone! No one will need you!
Helen blocks his number, disables all his messages. She knows if she listens, shell fall back, and she wont.
At work, colleagues notice the change.
Helen, you look refreshed! Iris says. Youve even brightened up!
Really?
Your eyes sparkle, you smile more!
Helen truly has changed. She starts caring for herself, buys new clothes, gets a haircut, a manicuresmall pleasures shed forgotten.
One day the director offers a promotion.
MrsHart, the chief accountant position is opening. Would you like it?
Me? Ive only been here half a year
Youve proven yourself quicklyresponsible, attentive, a fast learner. What do you think?
Ill take it!
Her salary jumps to £460. For many its still modest, but for Helen its a huge step. She moves to a larger flatstill a onebedroom but brighter, with fresh paint, lively plants, cozy textiles. Her own little world where shes the boss.
A year after the split she bumps into Simon on the street. He looks older, slumped.
Helen
Hey, Simon.
How are you?
Good. And you?
Not great. Married again.
Congratulations.
Not really a reason to celebrate. Its not working.
Helen nods, unsurprised. His temperament isnt something that changes.
Coffee? Maybe we could talk? he suggests.
I dont think thats a good idea.
Why? Were adults
Exactly why. We have no common ground. The past is behind us.
I just wanted to apologise for everything.
Helen looks at him, sees a hint of remorse. Perhaps he finally understands.
Alright. Apology accepted. Take care.
She walks on, not looking back. The old life stays behind. A new life stretches aheadher own.
Now, more than a year after she packed those suitcases, Helen sometimes recalls those ten years. She remembers the fear of leaving, the belief she couldnt survive alone, the thought that enduring was better than being without a husband.
But she discovers that being alone isnt scary; its liberating. She can breathe fully, be herself, not bend or please.
Sure, loneliness creeps in sometimes, and sadnessShe walks forward, heart steady, knowing that every step she takes now is truly her own.
