Alex, could you watch Mick for just a few hours? Mabel said, her eyes narrowed with irritation. I need to get to the doctor.
I cant, Alex snapped, springing up from the settee. Ive got the lads to meet. Im due out soon.
Come on, Alex, Im serious. My headache wont quit and my back feels off. After the birth so many things have gone wrong
Do I need to hear it again? Alex barked, his patience worn thin. I cant. Move it to another day. Ive already got plans.
He tugged at his coat, patting down his pockets.
I cant move it. The appointments booked three weeks in advance.
So youll have to wait another three weeks, Alex shrugged, as if it were nothing. Nothing terrible will happen to you.
The front door slammed. A soft whimper drifted from the nursery Mick had woken again. Exhausted, Mabel fished her phone from her bag, dialed the clinic and listened to the tinny hold music that now replaced the oldfashioned beeps. At last she got through.
Good afternoon, I need to cancel todays appointment, she began, her voice cracking.
She sank onto the sofa. Postnatal health had become a roulette wheel. One moment her back seized up, leaving her unable to straighten; the next her skull throbbed as if a hammer were striking from inside. The doctors waved their hands, saying she needed tests, but tests required time and someone to look after the baby.
Alex cared little. The last two years seemed to have turned him into another man.
During the pregnancy he had literally carried Mabel in his arms hoisting heavy bags, cooking, even giving her foot massages each night. He told her she was the most beautiful woman alive, that he was forever grateful. Mabel believed every word, thinking shed hit the matrimonial jackpot.
Then Mick arrived, and everything fell apart.
The endless cries, the mountain of nappy changes, sleepless nights stripped Alexs façade, revealing a very different person. He shouted at Mabel when the house wasnt spotless, yelled at Mick when the child wailed in the night, flung things about, slammed doors, slipped off to his mates and returned past midnight.
Look at yourself! he roared, pointing a finger at her. Do you even recognise the woman in the mirror? Wheres my lovely wife gone? Youre a beast!
Mabel stared, seeing dark circles under her eyes, hair in disarray, a stained old tee, extra pounds that clung despite her eating barely twice a day. Yet how could she find a moment for herself when Mick was feverish, teething, or his tummy hurt?
You only think about the child, Alex sneered, tightening his boots. Do you even need me?
She stayed silent, unsure what to say. Yes, she thought of Mick; he was her son, after all.
Weariness settled like a stone. She felt trapped within four walls, a screaming infant and a husband who saw himself as the sole victim.
Work prospects were nil. The firm shed once been employed at had folded; the owner fled with debts, the office was boarded up, staff dispersed. Maternity leave meant she was barely touched by the collapse. Mick would soon be three, and Mabel knew shed have to hunt for a new job a daunting task with a threeyear gap and a toddler on her résumé, something most employers shunned.
Still, she dreamed of the day the boy would go to nursery, she could step out, ride the tube, reach an office, and talk to grownups instead of a tiny creature whose world revolved around cartoons. She longed to recall who she had been before motherhood.
Micks third birthday she arranged herself. The boy darted around the flat in a new onesie, rosycheeked and delighted. Alex was nowhere to be seen.
Polly, wheres Alex? asked his mother, Susan, glancing about as if expecting him to appear from behind a curtain. I dont know, Mabel replied weakly, hes probably delayed.
Delayed? interjected his father, Ian, frowning. Its his sons birthday!
Mabel could only shrug. Shed called Alex a dozen times, messaged, but heard nothing.
The guests exchanged uneasy glances. Mabels mother, Vera, squeezed her hand under the table a silent gesture that changed nothing. The celebration went on stiffly. Mick giggled, the others pretended all was well.
Mabel sliced the cake, poured tea, smiled at the guests, while inside something cracked, fragmenting into pieces that could never be reassembled.
As evening fell, the guests drifted away. Mick fell asleep instantly, never waiting to be changed. Mabel tucked him into his cot, adjusted the blanket, and returned to the living room, where chaos reigned: dirty dishes, torn packing paper, deflated balloons.
She began to clear up mechanically, mindless of everything else, stacking plates, rinsing dishes, wiping the table.
A clink of keys in the lock stopped her. She glanced at the clock midnight. She peered down the hallway.
Alex stood in the doorway, swaying, eyes bloodshot, shirt rumpled, cheap perfume clinging to his skin, a bright red lipstick mark on his cheek. He froze when he saw Mabel.
Polly, this isnt what you think, his voice cracked, hoarse. I had a whisky and the devil took over just once. I swear it wont happen again!
Mabel exhaled slowly, a chill spreading through her as if ice had flooded her veins.
Where have you been? she whispered.
I was out with the lads. We went into a pub, there were girls, and one
On my sons birthday, she cut in sharply. You were with some girl when Mick turned three!
Polly, please forgive me! Alex lunged forward. I didnt mean it! It just happened!
You just happened? Mabels voice trembled. Youre a traitor, a liar. I trusted you completely. We have a family, a child! I never imagined youd stoop to cheating!
Youre to blame! Alex erupted. Look at yourself! There are gorgeous women everywhere, and I come home to you! Of course I get attracted! Im a young man, I crave love!
Mabel turned and fled to the nursery. Alex called after her, but she didnt look back. She shut the door, lay on the narrow cot beside Mick and stared into the darkness.
At dawn she packed her things, her and Micks. Alex tried to stop her, grasping her wrist, pleading for forgiveness, a second chance. She refused, hailed a cab, loaded the bags, and drove to her mothers house.
The first weeks were hard. Mick didnt understand why they now lived with Grandma, he cried, called for his father. Mabel held him, kissed his forehead, whispered that everything would be alright, though she herself doubted it.
Gradually life settled. Vera helped with Mick while Mabel hunted for work. Within a month she found a positionnothing glamorous, but steady pay and a sensible boss. The divorce was finalised; Alex didnt contest, only asked for visitation rights. Mabel agreed; Mick loved his dad.
Months later she moved into a modest onebed flat of her own. It was tiny, but theirs. Alex began to visit again, first rarely, then more often, fixing a leaking tap, assembling furniture, taking Mick for walks. Mabel allowed it, not for herself but for Mick, who brightened at his fathers presence.
Six months after the split Alex remarried. Mabel spotted him by chance in a shopping centre with his new wife, Victoria a sleek, wellkept woman with long hair, tasteful makeup, a short dress, looking every inch the model.
Yet Alex kept turning up, even more frequently than before, always praising his new wife.
Victorias a proper housewife, he would say. The house is spotless, dinners always ready. She looks flawless, like a runway model.
Mabel nodded, fury smouldering beneath the surface. Even after the divorce, he managed to needle her.
Then inspiration struck. She decided on a quiet, petty revenge that felt fair.
She began to call Alex constantly, for any excuse.
Alex, Mick wants to go for a walk, can you come over?
Alex, the kitchen tap is leaking, could you help?
Alex, Mick misses you, when will you be here?
Each time Alex arrived, it turned out he simply needed to see his son, and he obliged happily. Their chats stretched for an hour or two; Mabel would regale him with stories from Micks nursery, laugh, ask questions. Alex answered eagerly, as if starved for that interaction.
Soon Victorias voice floated into the conversation.
Alex, are you still chatting with her? Cut it out!
Alex waved it off, but Mabel heard the irritation in his wifes tone, and it eased her mind.
Months passed. One evening Alex turned up unannounced. Mabel opened the door to his dishevelled face.
Were getting a divorce, he said, stepping inside.
What? Mabel shut the door, leaning against it.
Victoria left. She couldnt take it any longer.
What couldnt she take?
Us. Our connection.
Mabel smiled, a cold, sardonic curl.
What connection, Alex?
You know the time we spend together. I thought we were
What? Together again? she crossed her arms. No, Alex. Ive been with someone else for a month now, and Im happy.
Alexs face twisted.
What? Who?
It doesnt matter who. Just that it isnt you.
He stammered, But I thought
I thought youd wait for me? she laughed sharply. Seriously?
Then youll keep feeding my alimony to some other mans kid?! he shouted. You led me on! I helped you, like a dog, and you
I never promised anything, Mabel kept her composure. You came to me on your own, like a stray. I dont need you. I cant even afford to feed a cat with your alimony, let alone a grown man.
He was left speechless. She opened the door wider.
Go, Alex. Dont come back without warning.
Youre not a woman! he lunged for his coat, shouting, A petty, vengeful serpent!
Maybe, Mabel shrugged. But you made me that.
The door slammed. She leaned against it, closed her eyes. Inside there was no joy, no reliefonly an empty void.
Mabel knew shed acted harshly, but Alex had once shattered her dignity, her faith, her love. Shed simply repaid him in kind.
She slipped back to Micks room. He lay there, arms outstretched, sleeping soundly. She sat beside him, stroked his hair, and, for a moment, felt the warmth of the life she still held.
