£100 prize…
How will Emily come to terms with her husband’s new love?
For your story
Clem was late for his dinner again. Emily wondered how long it would be until he returned home and swallowed down a sigh of resignation. That man was infuriating at times; apt to march to the beat of his own drum – though even his unpredictability was predictable these days. How long would she be able to keep his meal warm before giving in to the inevitable and setting it aside to be nuked in the microwave later?
Ah well, at least she had coffee and cake to look forward to tomorrow with her best friend Lizzie, which would give her a chance to sound off about his latest goings-on. She loved Clem dearly, but was also becoming ever more drained by recent events.
The next morning, Emily pushed open the heavy door to the high-street coffee shop, noting the peeling and flaking paint as she did so. The owners seemed to take a perverse pride in refusing to redecorate, insisting that they wanted to ‘maintain the integrity of the original building’. She spotted Lizzie hunkered down in the far corner on the right, still wearing her coat, hat and gloves. No menopausal hot flushes for her, noted Emily with a twinge of envy.
Almost one hour later, after putting the world to rights over lattes and chocolate croissants, Emily decided that now was a good time to broach the subject of Clem’s behaviour. ‘I feel so tense these days, Lizzie – I never know when he’s going to come home, I feel increasingly lonely and isolated and I know it’s all because of her. Ever since she’s been in his life he seems a man reborn – more cheerful, full of energy. He’s spending all his spare time with her and I realise it makes him happy – but what about me?!’ ‘Have you talked to him about it?’ questioned Lizzie.
‘I’ve said absolutely nothing,’ Emily admitted. ‘Heck,
I’ve wanted to, but I don’t want him to see that I’m jealous. I suppose I don’t want to rock the boat.’
Lizzie raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘How much time does he actually spend with her? Is it honestly a problem? You’re lucky to have such a nice husband – I wish you’d realise that.’
Emily began to feel downcast. She had thought Lizzie would empathise and wasn’t expecting their conversation to take the direction it had done.
‘Lizzie, it’s horrid when I’ve made a nice dinner and he stays out late. I feel he’s taking me for granted. I hate Bessie. I despise her. We had a good marriage until she came into his life – I just don’t know what to do, I can’t carry on like this. Did you know he’s been spending all his spare money on her, too? At this rate she’ll be decked out in all this finery and I’ll be reduced to wearing cast-offs.’
‘Why don’t you play him at his own game and spend some time with Bessie, too?’ Lizzie suggested. Emily shot her an appalled look and sat in stony silence.
Later that week, Emily mooched around her kitchen, absent-mindedly tidying the workbenches and reflecting on her conversation with Lizzie. Was she really being too harsh about Clem? She wanted him to be happy, but not at the expense of their marriage. He had once mentioned to her that tolerance was not one of her virtues and she admitted he was probably right, but she felt angry about this dalliance – how much was she expected to take? Surely he would become bored and start spending more time at home soon? She fervently hoped so…
Anyway, what did he actually see in Bessie? She was stout of stature and hardly a beauty. Emily made up her mind to go out for a walk to clear her head and improve her mood.
She walked along the lane at the end of her street. Dusk was beginning to fall and she could see her neighbours in their kitchen, bustling about preparing their evening meal. Emily felt her jaw tighten; Clem was very rarely back in time to help make theirs these days.
A minute later, she spotted Clem, his mop of curly hair visible above the fence of his allotment. He was bent over, digging and, as he straightened up, he saw her. ‘Emily! Come here, I’ve missed you! You never visit lately.’
That’s because I hate it here, she thought.
She gently pushed open the rickety wooden gate and reluctantly shuffled in.
‘Look how it’s changed – I’ve finished the raised beds and tidied the greenhouse, as well.’ He was glowing with pride and Emily began to thaw. She did love him, even if she didn’t share his interests.
‘Let’s go home,’ he said. Beaming, he turned around and looked at his shed. ‘Night night, Bessie, see you tomorrow.’