In the dim glow of the parlour, their mothers voice cut through the silence like a knife.
*”Look after your sister,”* shed scolded, still bitter from the divorce. *”Cant you see shes struggling?”*
The two sisters sat at the round tablepolished oak beneath their fingertipslistening as their mothers grievances hung heavy in the air.
*”Your Henrys naught but a spoiled brat!”* Mrs. Whittaker declared, lip curling. *”Works as a temp, brings home pennies!”*
*”Mum, is three thousand pounds really not enough?”* snapped the younger daughter, Poppy.
*”Hardly the point. A man ought to provide,”* the mother sniffed, arms crossed.
*”He does,”* Poppy muttered, wrinkling her nose.
*”Bollocks! Just yesterday, you borrowed two hundred quid from me!”* Mrs. Whittaker flung a hand toward the ceiling. *”If he cant feed you, dump him! Find someone proper! And that stammer of hisridiculous!”*
*”Mum, youre being cruel,”* interjected the elder sister, Eliza, speaking for the first time.
*”Truth hurts, doesnt it? Ginger-haired and lispinghardly a catch,”* she scoffed. *”Poppy, love, you could do better. Cut him loose before its too late.”*
Elizas voice was calm but firm. *”Henrys clever with his hands. Looks arent everything. Hes got a flat, a car, and he loves her. Isnt that enough?”*
Mrs. Whittakers eyes narrowed. *”You, lecturing me? Nearly forty and still singletake what you can get at your age!”*
Poppy sat silent, eyes flicking between them like a spectator at a bad play.
*”A poky flat in some crumbling estate, a beaten-up Mininothing to boast about!”* the mother sneered.
*”Poppy, what do you think?”* Eliza pressed.
*”Dunno maybe Mums right,”* Poppy mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. *”He said I ought to get a job the other day”*
*”There, you see?”* Mrs. Whittaker pounced. *”Pathetic! The writings on the wall!”*
*”Why shouldnt she work?”* Eliza countered. *”Most people do. Honestly, Im surprised Henry put up with this for so long.”*
*”Why dyou keep defending him?”* the mother spat.
*”Because youre ruining her life,”* Eliza said flatly.
*”Not your business!”* Mrs. Whittaker roared. *”Poppy deserves better! If Henry loved her, hed move heaven and earthbut no, hes just a useless ginger prat!”*
Poppys mouth fell open, her mothers words seeping in like poison.
Soon, she began parroting them back to Henry.
*”Happy with your wages?”* she prodded one evening.
*”Its alright. Why?”*
*”Not to me,”* she huffed. *”You ought to find something better.”*
*”Better? I like it here,”* he replied, uneasy.
*”Well, I dont! Shabby flat, knackered carwhat will the neighbours say?”*
Henry frowned. *”Never bothered you before.”*
*”I see things clearly now,”* she said stiffly. *”Love blinded me.”*
*”Right,”* he muttered, assuming that was the end of it.
But under her mothers relentless influence, Poppy kept nagging.
*”Enough!”* Henry finally snapped. *”Ive heard you, but I cant magic money out of thin air!”*
*”I want a man who *tries*,”* she hissed.
*”Then pack your bags,”* he said coldly, turning toward the bedroom.
*”Whatwhere would I go?”*
*”Wherever theres a posh flat and a flash motor,”* he shot back. *”Wouldnt want you stuck with a deadbeat like me. Im sure some blokell shower you in diamondsjust not me.”*
Mrs. Whittaker was the first to know Henry had thrown Poppy out.
*”That *bastard*!”* she shrieked. *”Who does he think he is? Shouldve never married him!”*
*”I just wanted him to do better,”* Poppy sniffled.
*”Of course you did! But that good-for-nothing couldnt handle a woman like you. Dont worryyoull land someone richer, and hell come crawling back!”*
Homeless and single, Poppy moved into her old childhood room.
*”What now?”* Eliza asked later, summoned by their mother.
*”Dunno,”* Poppy mumbled, glued to her phone.
*”Thought about job hunting?”* Eliza ventured.
*”Nah. Ill find a wealthier bloke.”*
*”Leave her be!”* Mrs. Whittaker barked. *”Shes been through *trauma*!”*
For weeks, she funded Poppys life on the sofauntil the money ran dry.
Then came the call to Eliza.
*”Wont you help your sister?”* Mrs. Whittaker demanded.
*”With what?”*
*”Financially! Were struggling!”*
*”Who pushed her to divorce in the first place?”* Eliza said flatly. *”This mess is on you.”*
*”How *dare* you!”* Mrs. Whittaker clutched her chest. *”Henrys a coward, a *loser*! He couldnt handle a gem like Poppy! Get outI dont want to see you!”*
Poppy stormed in, glaring.
*”Youre defending the man who *dumped* me?”*
*”You did this to yourself,”* Eliza sighed. *”Stop listening to Mum”*
*”Oh, *please*! Look whos talkingspinster of the year!”* Poppy shrieked.
Eliza shook her head, turned, and walked out.
No more words. No more fights.
Just silence.
