Dont forget to have something special ready tonight, or order it in. No clichés! Nicole Hartley said, tying a silk scarf around her delicate neck while putting the final touches on her businesslady ensemble. She barked commands at her husband as she swept the kitchen. The balconys gathering a layer of dust; soon the laptop will be invisible. Wipe it down.
Since you stopped working there, the dust just builds up, Anthony Clarke replied calmly, emerging from the kitchen. A kitchen towel draped over his broad shoulder, a freshly washed childrens mug in his hand, and a cotton apron over his tee. He moved toward her, hoping to plant a quick kiss on her cheek now that her lips were painted, but Nicole brushed him aside with irritation.
Do I have to grind at home too? Isnt the office enough? she snapped.
When you were homebased wed at least see you, he said.
Thank God thats over! Nicole tossed her handbag over her shoulder, puffed up with pride. Clean, wash, vacuum, gather the toys, cookdo it all and maybe say thank you?
Come off it! No need to haul the washing to the river, the dishwasher does its job, the robot vac does the rest. And the girls he sighed, theyre just being kids.
Fine, if thats how you see it. My work is more useful than anything you do at home. Someone has to bring in the money, Nicole retorted, slamming the door behind her.
Nicoles mornings were scheduled to the minute: up at six, a jog (shed just taken it up), a contrast shower, breakfast, makeup and hair on the go. Even the London traffic jam never caught her off guard; she left early, as long as nothing stalled her at homeunlike today.
A year earlier Anthonys mornings were much the same, except he skipped the workout, preferring to linger a few minutes in the warm bed beside his beloved wife. His office was a short commute away, no traffic worries. By six or seven at the latest he was home, helping Nicole with dinner or tidying up, playing with the girls, and often tucking them into bed before returning to a quick cleanup in the lounge.
Everything changed a year ago. Their younger daughter, Lily, had just finished her second year in nursery; the endless sniffles of the adjustment period were finally behind them. Their older daughter, Katie, a Year8 student, walked to and from the nearby school on her own and even caught the bus to dance lessons without a parent, two tram stops awaythanks to her dad. Nicole was offered a return to her old office job. She debated; home life was decent, but she craved the buzz of the office, the social scene. A swift promotion was promised, and she accepted.
Three months later Nicole landed her first raise, then a second, and with every perk came an irregular schedule she loved. The household staff saw her rarely, but Anthony explained everything. She was stretched thinhome manager, mother, devoted wifereturning late, utterly exhausted.
They sat down, husband and wife, to discuss the strain. Anthony never intended to complain; he understood there was no talk of her quitting. They decided to swap roles: Nicole would work without looking back at domestic chores, and Anthony would quit his job and take on the thankless part of family life.
Eventually youll find something remote, Nicole urged at first, embarrassed that he now had to make porridge, hang and iron laundry, pick Lily up from nursery, ferry her to the dentist, and take the younger to the speech therapist. Youll manage, I know it.
Youre brilliant, Anthony whispered, kissing the top of her head. Those were their last shared evenings as a couple, he said, youre doing great at work and home, keep it up.
Anthony dove into his new routine. The endless texts from Nicole about which dish went where, what to wash, who to collect at what time, all stopped. He handled everything with ease. The chores didnt weigh him down, the girls didnt irritate him as they did their mother after a long day. Meanwhile, Nicole thrived at her firm, respected by colleagues and superiors, entrusted with any assignment. The compromise let her blossom both as a professional and a woman. She was proud, her career soaring.
Youre late, dinners getting cold, Katie and Lily greeted her at the hallway as she walked in from work. She untied the same silk scarf, the days pressures piling one on another. Is the Hartley family not coming?
What? Nicole snapped, exasperated. Youre driving me mad.
You said
Nicole stared at Anthony with a cold, almost contemptuous look, as if hed overstepped a boundary.
I told you it was for the weekend! she snapped.
You mentioned today, he replied.
Anthony, have you forgotten how to listen to me? she added, frustration raw as she marched into the living room. Whats this mess? Why didnt you change Lilys outfit? Who snagged the curtain? She lunged at the window, jerking the curtain back. Did they play ball inside again? Cant they do that outside?
Anthony, Katie and Lily stood mute, unsure how to justify themselves. They hadnt meant any harm. Is this how you expected guests? Nicole gestured at the chaos.
They have kids too, theyll understandwe were just playing.
Come off it, Anthony! Look at yourselfshaven, stretched shirt, vacant stare. She sneered.
Anthony tried to stay light, winking at the girls: Mums joking, shes tired. He tried not to feed the fire.
Lets go to the kitchen, well get you something to eat. Had enough? he asked gently.
Yes! Im fed up with this attitude! Is it really that hard to do what I ask? Even a fool could manage. You cant earn a living, yet you cant handle a mop and dirty plates. A flash of anger crossed Anthonys face, but he kept his temper in check for the childrens sake.
He moved to the kitchen, where Nicole had a list of grievances ready.
You ordered dinner and didnt think of me? You know I dont like spicy, greasy food. Make me tea then, since Im still hungry.
Make it yourself! Anthony snapped, hoisting Lily onto his back, lifting Katie like a feather. Were off to brush teeth, its late, time for bed. Tomorrows nursery and school. By the way, Lily had a photo shoot last week; I left the pictures on the mantel for two days. You didnt even notice.
They left, chattering. The bathroom echoed with childrens chatter and water splashing. The nursery door shut, and silence fell. Ten minutes later Anthony returned to the kitchen. Nicole sat still at the table, swallowing her bitterness, her tea forgottenher husband didnt understand.
Calmed down? he asked. Whats wrong? Work trouble?
No! Works fine, its the house
Nicole, youre losing it! Anthony leaned in, his gaze hard. Im not your assistant, not your secretary, not your subordinate. I never nagged you about the little things when you stayed home, even when there was cause. Youre not a robot; if you missed something, its no big dealwell sort it together.
Its easy for you to say! I used to juggle the girls and work from home. Now theyre older, they understand. You always said the dishwasher does the washing, the washing machine does the laundry, food can be orderedwhy cant you handle basic tasks? Why?
Anthonys lips twitched with fury, but he held back. What have you become? A drudge, a nobody, a housekeeper. Youll soon grow a gut of your own.
Nicole!
Dont shout, I know what youre saying.
Anthony stormed to the bedroom, grabbed a pillow, and headed for the living room, delivering his final line: Tomorrow Im going back to work! Find yourself another househelp.
You weakling! You quit over dirty plates? Nicole hissed.
He slung the pillow over his shoulder and left. Nicole fumed, then realized Anthony couldnt return to work the next daynot tomorrow. She didnt chase him that night, apologised in the morning, and agreed he should get a job, but not immediately; they needed someone to pick up Lily, help with chores. Her wait a bit stretched into three months; his dictatorial tone at home became the norm. She left him a daily chore list, checking each evening; any missed item meant extra work for both him and the girls.
Tomorrow youll pick up Lily yourself, Anthony announced one morning.
And you?
I cant. Im meeting friends.
Unbelievable! Im working until seven, eight, even ten, and youre off drinking with mates! I wont let you go! I have a crucial briefing at seventhirty.
Im not asking permission; Im giving notice. Your days are full of briefings and crises.
I said no!
Anthony slipped on his coat in the hallway. Where are you going? Nicole shouted, I wont let you leave!
Im not your employee or housekeeper. Goodbye. He slammed the door, and Nicole hurled a string of insults after him.
He didnt come home that night. The next morning she sent him a message with instructionswho to pick up, where to go. He didnt reply. That evening, unexpectedly, Lilys nursery teacher called, asking Nicole to pick up her last remaining child. Nicole raced across London, firing angry texts at Anthony. He stayed silent. He didnt return that night.
Nicole was incensed. She wasnt jealous; she simply wondered who needed him. People like him never left. Yet Anthony kept his silence, and Nicoles only response was a torrent of vented messages. She had to manage on her own, juggling work, a demanding boss, and babysitters who kept dropping out. Two weeks later she was exhausted, nerves frayed, sleepless, and her superiors were displeased.
She called Anthony, demanding he come home.
Ill collect the girls on the weekend, but Im not coming back.
Youre serious? You like the peace?
Im not going to shoulder your kids any longer
Im filing for divorce, Anthony said, hanging up, knowing Nicole would have nothing sensible to say.
She was stunned, speechless at his betrayal. The children heard their mothers angry phone outburst; they knew something was wrong.
Later, Katie asked their mother, holding up a white school blouse from the washing machine. Mum, how did he get these stains out? I forgot how to wear it properly.
Just, Mum, Katie said, pulling a blue packet from the laundryoxygen bleach. First soak in hot water, then a 40minute wash. He never made it complicated; my shirts are always spotless.
Wow, a wizard, Katie laughed. He also cleaned my sneakers and Lilys dresses with it.
I was about to toss them. Katie shrugged. Their mother stared at the instructions, remembering all the tiny chores at home shed once managed while Anthony handled the minutiae so she could focus on her career.
They eventually divorced. Nicole set a strict schedule for the childrens time with her and their father. Anthony still had to collect Lily from nursery and drive Katie to school, doing it calmly, never hearing his exwifes complaints behind his back.
Mom, wont Dad ever come back? Katie asked one evening.
Where would he go? Hell stay with Mom, thats all. Who does he need besides us? Nicole replied, confident.
Katie walked away, understanding that Dad wouldnt return under these terms and that Mom wasnt going to change.
Anthony returned to his old job a year after the divorce and remarriedapparently needing a mop again, Nicole mused. He would often take the girls for a week or two. Nicole was fine with that.
The only thing that irked her was that her exhusbanda nobody with no ambitionhad quickly found a decent job. She, successful, intelligent, attractive, never managed more than a few dates before they vanished after the first meeting, leaving no hope or phone number. She began to wonder what was wrong with her.
