**Diary Entry**
I thought surprising my husband would be a lovely idea. Coming home three hours early after visiting family, I stepped into the flatand couldnt hold back my tears.
Emily gazed out the train window, thinking of her mother. Shed spent three days nursing her back to health, spooning her broth and doling out medicine. The fever had only broken the day before.
*»You should stay another day,»* Mum had said that morning.
*»Harrys on his own at home, Mum. Hes probably starving by now.»*
Now, swaying in the train carriage, she regretted not listening. But Harry had called every evening, asking after Mum, complaining about the empty fridge. His voice had sounded oddworn out, somehow.
*»Miss you,»* hed murmured last night before bed.
Shed smiled then. Thirty-two years together, and he still missed her. A good man, all things considered.
The train rattled on. Across from her, a woman cracked sunflower seeds and flipped through a crime novelits cover featuring a glamorous woman embracing a suited man. Emily glanced at her own reflection in the glass. Wrinkles, grey roots peeking through. When had she aged so much?
*»Meeting your husband?»* the woman asked.
*»Yes. Just heading home.»*
*»Im off to see my lover,»* the woman chuckled. *»Husband thinks Im at my sisters.»*
Emily flushed and looked away. How could someone say such things so casually?
Her phone buzzed.
*»Hows it going? When are you back?»* Harry had texted.
She checked the time. Four more hours. She nearly replied honestlythen changed her mind. A surprise would be nicer. Shed cook dinner. Hed be thrilled.
*»Tomorrow morning. Miss you too,»* she sent.
Harry hearted the message instantly.
Fields and cottages blurred past. Emily pulled a thermos of tea from her bagMum had insisted, along with packed sandwiches. Always fussing, as if she were still a child.
*»Youve gone too thin, love. Bet that Harry of yours doesnt make sure you eat properly.»*
*»Mum, Im fifty-seven.»*
*»And? Youll always be my girl.»*
Chewing her ham sandwich, Emily thought of Mum alone in that housethe same one shed grown up in. Dad had passed five years ago. Mum refused to move in with them in London.
*»Youve your own lives,»* she always said. *»I wont get in the way.»*
She wouldnt. Emily loved caring for people. First her parents, then Harry, then the kids. Shed taught primary school, but when James was born, she took maternity leave. Then came Sophie. Somehow, she never went backjust became a homemaker.
*»Why work?»* Harry had said back then. *»I earn enough. Just take care of the house.»*
So she did. For thirty years. Cooking, cleaning, raising the kids, stitching Harrys socks.
Now the kids were goneJames working up in Manchester, Sophie married with a baby of her own. Emily was a grandmother.
And what now?
The train slowed. She gathered her things, bid her seatmate a stiff goodbye. The platform was noisy, crowded. The bus home took half an hour.
She imagined Harrys face when she walked inexpecting her tomorrow, not tonight. Maybe shed stop by Tesco. Grab some nice steak, fresh potatoes. Cook a proper dinner, set the table nicely.
The checkout girl grinned. *»Special occasion?»*
*»Just my husband waiting.»*
The bags were heavy. She barely made it to the building. In the lift, she caught her breath. Dug forever for her keys.
Finally, the door swung open.
*»Harry? Its me!»* she called. *»Im home!»*
Silence. Asleep, probablynearly midnight now.
She dropped the bags, shrugged off her coat. The lights were on. Odd. Harry never slept with them on.
Walking to the wardrobe, she froze. A pair of shoes sat by the door. Womens. Black, heeled. Polished.
*»Harry?»* she whispered.
Her pulse spiked. Maybe Sophies? But she wouldve called.
Thensoft laughter from the kitchen. A womans.
Emilys breath caught. Not Sophie. A strangers voice.
*»Harry, youre hilarious,»* the woman was saying.
*»Emily wont be back till tomorrow. No rush.»*
Emily leaned against the wall. Her legs shook. Who was this? What were they talking about?
*»What if she comes early?»*
*»She wont. Shes always on time. If she says tomorrow, its tomorrow.»*
They laughed. Emily squeezed her eyes shut. The air felt thick.
Quietly, she crept down the hall. The kitchen door was ajar. She peered in.
Harry sat at the table, hair mussed, grinning. Opposite hima blonde, maybe thirty. Pretty. Wearing Emilys dressing gown.
Two mugs of coffee. A cake. Sweets. Harry was holding her hand.
*»Liz, youre incredible,»* he murmured.
*Liz?*
*»But your wifeyou said you love her,»* the woman teased.
*»I do. But this is different. With you, I feel young again.»*
Emily gripped the doorframe. Thirty-two years. Thirty-two years of trust, of tending to him. And this
*»Harry,»* she breathed.
They whipped around. Harry paled. The woman stood, clutching the robe.
*»Emilyyouyou said tomorrow»*
*»Who is she?»*
*»ThatsLiz. Neighbour. Flat 52.»*
*»Neighbour?»* Emily stared at the woman in her robe. *»Neighbours wear your wifes things now?»*
*»I should go,»* Liz muttered, backing away. *»Harry, call me later.»*
*»No!»* Emily snapped. *»Explain this!»*
Liz halted. Her expression was guiltybut only just.
*»We were just talking. Harry helped me. My tap was leaking.»*
*»Tap?»* Emily let out a hollow laugh. *»In my dressing gown?»*
*»Emily, calm down,»* Harry stood. *»Nothing happened. Liz asked for help, I fixed it. Then we had coffee. Talked»*
*»Talked? Holding hands? In my robe?»*
*»Id done laundry,»* Liz mumbled. *»Harry lent me this so I wouldnt catch cold.»*
*»Lent my robe!»* Emilys voice cracked. *»In my home! At my table! While I nursed my mother!»*
Harry stepped closer. *»Dont shout. The neighbours»*
*»Neighbours?»* She recoiled. *»Thats what you care about? Not me? Not us?»*
*»Nothing happened!»* He grabbed her shoulders. *»I swear!»*
She searched his face. Panic. Fear. And lies. Thirty-two yearsshe knew his tells.
*»Let go,»* she said quietly.
*»Emily»*
*»Let go!»*
He did. His hands trembled.
*»Im leaving,»* Liz edged toward the door.
*»Stop!»* Emily barked. *»Take that off first!»*
*»Emily, really»* Harry moved between them.
*»Shy now?»* She shoved him. *»Werent shy drinking coffee with her in my house!»*
Liz stripped off the robejeans and a jumper underneath. *»Sorry,»* she muttered, bolting.
The front door slammed.
Emily sank onto a chair, face in her hands. No tears. Just a hollow, gnawing void where her heart had been.
*»Lets talk properly,»* Harry sat beside her. *»Ill explain.»*
*»Explain.»*
*»Liz really needed help. The tap was dripping. I fixed it. She offered coffee»*
*»At midnight?»*
*»It was nine when I went over»*
*»Its nearly one! Four hours of coffee?»*
Harry wiped his brow.
*»Harry, Im not stupid. Thirty-two years. I know when youre lying.»*
*»Nothing happened! We talked! Shes lonely»*
*»And you? Who do you talk to? Not me?»*
*»With you, its bills. The grandkids. Your mum. With herits life.»*
Emily stood. Her chest burned.
*»Life? Am I not life? Am I furniture?»*
*»Thats not»*
*»Then what?»* She slammed the table. *»Thirty years at home! For you! For the kids! Gave up my career! And Im boring?»*
*»Emily, please»*
*»No!»* She paced like a caged animal. *»I cook, clean, mend your socks! And you chat about life with her?»*
*»Just one neighbour»*
*»One? Just one?»* She stopped. *»How many before her?»*
*»None!»*
*»Liar!»* She stepped closer. *»All those late meetings? Business trips?»*
*»They were work!»*
*»Work? Like Liz was work tonight?»*
Harry looked down.
*»I love you. Truly. Youre everything to me.»*
*»Everything? Like a prized possession? An old armchair?»*
*»Dont say that»*
*»Then what?»* The tears came now. *»I gave you my life! And you chase afterwhat? Youth?»*
*»I dont! Liz just»*
*»Just what? Just waltzed in? Just wore my robe? Just held your hand?»*
Silence.
*»Answer me!»*
*»It was mutual,»* he whispered.
*»Mutual.»* She pressed a hand to her chest. *»So you wanted this.»*
*»Emily, dont»*
*»How long?»*
*»Six months.»*
*»Six months!»* She crumpled to the floor. *»Six months of kisses goodnight, of I love youswhile you ran to her!»*
*»I didnt! We barely»*
*»Barely? So you *did* see her!»* She crawled to the door. *»Its over.»*
*»Where are you going?»*
*»Anywhere but here!»*
She yanked on her coat. Harry followed, frantic.
*»Stay! Well talk tomorrowfresh start!»*
*»Fresh start?»* She whirled around. *»Ill be starting fresh for the rest of my life!»*
*»Please»*
She turned. There he stoodbalding, paunchy, in his rumpled shirt. Pathetic.
*»Know what?»* she said. *»Go to Liz. Talk about life all you want.»*
The door slammed behind her. She took the stairstoo afraid hed follow.
Outside, the cold bit deep. Where to go? Not Sophiestoo late, shed wake the baby. Mum was too farlast train gone.
Then she remembered Sarah. Her friend in Islington. She dialled.
*»Em? Whats wrong?»* Sarahs sleepy voice.
*»Can I come over? Please.»*
*»Of course. What happened?»*
*»Later.»*
On the bus, she numbly replayed it. Thirty-two years. Gone. What was left? Emptiness. And pain.
Sarah met her in a messy bun and pyjamas. *»Sit. Ill put the kettle on.»*
Emily told her everything. Sarah listened, shaking her head.
*»Bastard,»* she finally said. *»Theyre all bastards.»*
*»Sarah, I dont know what to do.»*
*»Whats to think? Divorce him.»*
*»But thirty-two years»*
*»Exactly. He thinks youll put up with anything.»*
She didnt sleep. Lying on Sarahs sofa, she retraced their life. Meeting at uni. The kids. Harry working lateher assuming it was just stress.
When had he drifted? Two years ago, maybe. Distant. Preoccupied. Shed blamed midlife crisis.
Turns out, hed just fallen for someone else.
At dawn, she called Sophie.
*»Mum? Dads been calling»*
*»Tell him Im at Sarahs. And that Im thinking.»*
*»Thinking what?»*
*»Ill explain later, love.»*
Harry called all day. She ignored him. By evening, he showed up at Sarahs door.
*»Is Emily here?»*
*»She is,»* Emily stepped into the hall. *»What do you want?»*
*»To talk. Properly.»*
*»Talk.»*
*»Em, its over with Liz. I swear.»*
*»Until the next Liz.»*
*»There wont *be* a next one!»*
She studied him. Rumpled, exhausted. He probably meant itnow.
*»Harry,»* she said softly, *»Ive been thinking. Im fifty-seven. Maybe its time I lived for *me*.»*
*»What does that mean?»*
*»Work. Travel. Figure out what *I* want. Not just what *you* want.»*
*»But were family»*
*»Family respects each other. Not one giving everything, the other taking.»*
*»Ill respect you! I»*
*»Lets live apart a while. See if you really want *me*or just a housekeeper who sleeps with you.»*
*»Is this goodbye?»*
*»Its a pause. If you realise you *need* menot just my cookingcome back. If not…»* She shrugged. *»Then it wasnt meant to be.»*
He stood silent. Then nodded.
*»Fine. But Ill fight for you.»*
*»Well see.»*
He left. Sarah hugged her. *»Well done. That took guts.»*
*»Im terrified, Sarah.»*
*»Course you are. But youre free.»*
Emily sat by the window. Rain pattered against the glass. A new life at fifty-seven. Strange. But maybejust maybeit could be good.
Tomorrow, shed job-hunt. Visit Mum. Talk properly.
And then? Maybe Harry would change. Or maybe shed find she didnt need him at all.
The point wasshed live for herself now, too. Not just everyone else.
The rain drummed on. For the first time in days, Emily smiled.
