I was doing the washing up when my husband stormed in, shouting. Its always about his mother. Its always mistrust. Enough is enough.
What did you say to my mum about our money?!
There I was, standing at the sink, scrubbing the last plate, when Martin burst in. Not just walked inreally crashed in, his face twisted with anger, fists clenched by his sides. The plate slipped from my hands, splashing back into the soapy water.
What? Martin, whats wrong?
Dont play innocent! You tell mewhats this about?!
He stopped right in the middle of the kitchen. I noticed his shirt was creased, even though Id ironed it that morning. He always got like this when angry: twitchy, jerky movements, pacing without reason.
I just spoke to Mum. Shes told meMartin, your wife has transferred all the money youd been saving for the car! Wheres it gone? Explain yourself!
I slowly turned off the tap. My hands, still gloved in bright yellow marigolds, slid out, one after the other, and I laid them neatly on the side. My heart was beating up in my throat.
Martin, wait. What money? What are you talking about?
Dont act clueless! Mum said you took out a large sum. Whered the money come from, and wheres it gone?
Which account?
Our joint account!
I steadied my voice. Martin. Calm down. Lets talk.
I am calm!
He said it so loudly the plates in the rack nearly rattled. I looked at him. His face was beetroot red, eyes cold and unblinking. I recognised that look. Not often, but I hated it all the same.
I havent taken anything out of our account. Thats the truth.
Then why did Mum say you did?
I leaned back against the sink. Outside, the sun was shininga bog-standard Sunday. Id been thinking about wallpaper that morning or maybe finally moving the bedside table by the window. And now this.
Martin, your mum must have misunderstood something.
My mum doesnt get things wrong!
Martin, everyone makes mistakes.
Dont start blaming her! She saw the bank statementshe saw the figures!
What? Did you show her our statement?
I regretted that the moment I said it. That was a sore spot. Elainehis motheralways had to know everything about our lives, and Martin thought sharing everything with her was normalshes only your mum, not a stranger, hed say.
I didnt show her, not really. She rang and I told her a bit.
A bit.
Dont change the subject! Why are there your transfers showing up on Dads phone?
And then it clicked. I realised what this was about. I sighed and moved over to the table, sinking down on a chair.
Sit down, Martin. Lets talk like adults.
Im fine standing.
As you wish. I folded my hands. Listen, last month my dad bought a car. I told you about it.
What car?
Martin, I told you. Dad wanted a second-hand Fordto get out to the allotment. He sits there on his own otherwise and the bus only comes once a day, at best. Hes left without wheels.
So?
Dad cant handle internet banking, never trusted cards. You know how older folks are about these things. He insisted on cash, but the seller only accepted bank transfer. Dad handed me the cash, I put it into my account, and transferred it to the seller. Thats it. Thats the whole story.
Martin was silent.
They were his savings, Martin. Not ours. He gave me the cash firstI just did the transfer. I didnt take anything out of the account that wasnt mine.
Why didnt you tell me?
Because it was Dads business. Am I supposed to report every one of my dads moves to you?
You need to tell me when someone elses money goes through our joint account!
Hes not someone elsehes my Dad.
Still! Am I your husband or not? Wheres my place in all this?
That question lingered awkwardly between us. I looked at himstood right there, less red now, but still pumped up. And suddenly, I felt so tired. Not just now, not from this twenty minutes, but tired for ages. Worn out.
Youre my husband, Martin. But here you are, storming in and accusing me before even asking. Youd made up your mindon your mums say-so. And Im left here defending myself.
I didnt attack you
Martin.
All rightmaybe I raised my voice a little…
You shouted.
He fell quiet, staring sideways at the fridge, where that seaside holiday snap hungus years younger, laughing. Then he turned to the window.
Fine. Maybe a bit.
A bit, I echoed softly. Not mocking, just stating.
Look, you need to understandMum rang me with all sorts, I panicked…
What exactly did she say?
That youd made a large payment. Something big.
Does she know what Dads car cost?
How would I know?
Well, nor do I. But apparently, she thinks she does. She told you, and you came running.
I didnt come runningI wanted to get to the bottom of it.
I stood, went to the window. Outside, the birch trees were just greening. The neighbours cat was draped across the fence, watching the world go by.
Martin, Im going to say somethingdont get upset.
Go on, then.
Im not comfortable with how much your mum knows about our finances. I get you trust hershes your mum. But were the ones who live together. The fact that shes ringing you about my supposed bank transfers… its not normal, Martin.
You just dont like her.
This isnt about like or dislike.
Yes, it is! You always put the blame on Mum.
I closed my eyes for a moment. Exhaled.
Three years ago, she rang and said I was spending too much on groceries. Do you remember?
It rings a bell…
She took your receipts, added them up, and told you I was wasting money. You came home and said, Liv, maybe we should cut down on food shopping? Remember?
Mum just wanted to help…
She wanted to know what we spend. Thats what she wanted.
Youre unfair to her.
Right. Next examplea year ago I was late from work finishing the quarterly reports. Arrived home at half nine. Your mum called, suggesting I must have been up to something. Do you remember what you asked me?
Martin grimaced.
You said: Liv, were you really stuck late with your colleague? With a suspicious tone. The first time ever.
I was just checking…
You never used to check. You used to trust me. But one word from your mum, and you doubt me.
Liv…
And theres more. My voice was quieter, but each word deliberate. She saw me walking home with Bob Foster from the blockhe helped me carry bags. You know him, neighbour for years. She told you she saw me with some man, really putting the emphasis on man. And then you barely spoke a word to me for three days.
I didnt think anything bad
You did. Maybe you didnt say it aloud. But you did.
He turned to look at me. Something passed in his eyesnot anger anymore, something more lost. He opened his mouth, closed it.
Liv
I dont want a row, Martin. Truly, I dont. But this isnt the first or second time. Every time she plants a doubt in your mind and you bring it straight to me. No questions asked.
She means well.
Maybe she does. But the results always the sameyou look at me like a suspect. And I have to stand here and prove myself to you. Im done, Martin. Im so tired.
What do you want from me? To stop talking to my mum?
No. I just want you to talk to me, first.
I said it simply. No drama, no tearsbut that made it feel weightier, like a stone placed firmly on the table.
Martin stood there. Looked down, then back at me.
Liv, I didnt know about your dad
You couldve just asked. Just said, Liv, Mums said thiswhats going on? Thats all. Just one sentence.
Well
But you came in shouting, as if I was definitely to blame.
He fell silent. The kitchen was quiet, just the fridge humming. Sunbeam stretched across the floor, blissfully indifferent to our little drama.
I looked at Martinmy Marty, with whom Ive spent nearly twenty-six years. We raised a son, buried his father, weathered moves, lean years and a fair few illnesses. I knew him inside out: every wrinkle, the way he breathes in sleep, how he cradles his teacup with both hands. I know hes kind, hard-working, loves me. I know all that.
And stillthis.
Go, Martin.
He flinched.
What?
Please leave the kitchen. I need a moment alone.
Liv, come on
Please.
He hesitated, then walked out. Didnt slam the door, just left, quietly. I heard him padding down the hallway. The lounge door creaked.
I turned back to the sink. Picked up the plate from the water, started to wash again. My hands moved automatically as I stared out the window, thinking I should ring Elaineno, not her. I meant to call Hannah, my oldest friend since college, who always knew how to listen without butting in or offering unwanted advice.
Or maybe I wouldnt call anyone. Maybe Id just grab my bag and leave for a bit. Get some air, gather my thoughts. Because in this kitchen, with that humming fridge and that indifferent sunbeam, I couldnt bear to be for a moment longer.
—
I packed slowly, hands not quite under my control. I opened the wardrobe, stared into it for ages before finally pulling out a jumper. Dropped it in my bag. Then changed my mind, swapped it for the grey oneHannah always said it suited me. Then I remembered my phone charger was still in the kitchen.
Walking back there was awkward. Not because I thought Martin was inside, I could hear hed put the telly on in the lounge, switched it off again. Just because I knew Id either have to speak, or keep silentboth heavy in their own way.
I went in quickly, grabbed my charger, and turned to leave.
Where are you going? Martins voice came from the lounge doorway.
To Hannahs.
What for?
I need to.
Liv, hang on. Youre just upset
Yes, Im upset. Thats exactly it.
Lets talk?
Martin, we already talked. For half an hour. Ive explained everything.
I mean, properly.
I looked at him. Bag in my hands, jacket still off, just a cardigan.
Now you want to talk? After you stormed in and shouted at me?
I wasnt shouting!
Martin.
He closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead.
Fine. Maybe… Liv, dont walk out. Were acting like kids.
Kids? Remember our Sam? When we told him off, hed lock himself in the bathroom for two hours. Kids do leave the room.
Sams different.
Of course. Ill be back later. I just need air.
So youll storm out, while Im left here to stew?
You can choose not to stew. Watch the telly if you want.
Liv!
I zipped up my jacket.
You dont trust me. Thats the truth of it. Weve been married for twenty-six years, and you still dont trust me. That hurts, Martin. Not the shouting. That.
He didnt reply.
Ill be back this evening. Or tomorrow morning. Not sure yet.
Id already grabbed the door handle when I turned and saw him standing there, looking completely… lost. I hadnt seen him look like that in years. He was a big bloke, a bit gone to seed, greying at the templesstood in the hallway, not knowing what to do with his hands.
Liv, he said, quietly. Liv.
I left.
—
The door closed behind me. Martin lingered in the hallway, then shuffled into the lounge. Sat down. Stood up. Sat down again.
The phone lay on the coffee table. He stared at it.
Mum had sent two unread messages: Did you talk to her? and Martin, ring me.
He picked it up, held it for ages, then stood suddenly and wandered to the kitchen window. The birch trees outside swayed gently in the early evening, though daylight lingered. He watched the neighbours terrier larking about in the garden.
He punched in another number.
Hello, Mr Edwards? Its Martin. Afternoon.
Oh, hello, Martin! My dad sounded cheerful and a bit surprised. Well now, whats up? All all right?
I just wanted to askyou bought a car last week, yeah?
I didpicked up a second-hand Focus. Didnt cost much, chap was decent. Im lord of my own manor again! Olivia helped me with all the bank stuffyou know what Im like with these newfangled things.
Martin was silent.
Martin? You still there?
Yesyeah, sorry. So… it was your money, then?
Well, of course! Whose else? I handed Olivia the cash and she did the rest. Shes a star, that one. Nipped it through in no time. Pop round sometime, wont you? I made apple pies earlierdont tell Olivia, shell moan about too much sugar. He chuckled.
Ill pop by. Thanks, Mr Edwards.
Dont mention it. See you soon.
Martin hung up, placed the phone on the table, stood and bent over it briefly. Then he slowly sat back down, rubbing his face.
Idiot.
Hed rushed in, riled up by his mum, and took it all out on Liv. All shed done was help her dad, same as always, because thats just how she iscant help herself, always there for anyone struggling nearby.
And himwell. He remembered her standing at the sink in her yellow gloves, the careful way she peeled them off, the steady voice, but the eyes… Hed missed it at the time, but he got it now. She wasnt angry; she was simply exhausted.
And she was right about the receiptsabout not talking to her for three days. He told himself at the time that it was just stress, but the truth was his mum had sat on the phone for half an hour, going on about Bob Foster, and theres no smoke without fire, and all that. It festered in him.
Liv had come home, plopped her bags down, told him she was tired, and hed said nothing. For three days.
She never asked what was wrong. She just carried on. She always did.
He picked up the phone once more and dialled his mother.
Martin! At last! Sodid you speak to her? Has she admitted it?
Mum, yes. We talked.
And?
It was her dad buying a car. His savings, not ours. I just spoke to him. Everythings fine.
Pause.
Well Mum finally said, voice tight, doesnt make any difference. You shouldve been told money was going through your account.
Mum.
No, now listen, I only care about you. What if something
Mum, please, he said quietly but firmly, surprising himself. Let me say this, and please dont interrupt.
Well, go on.
You were out of order. You rang me, told me all sorts, without knowing the facts. I went off at Liv because of it. Shes left the house nowbecause of me. Because I acted like an idiot.
Martin, I only
Mum, he interrupted, gentle but steady. You do this a lot. You ring, tell me something about Liv and I go and confront her. And every time, I find out it wasnt as you said. Im tired. I live with my wife, Mum. I need to be fair to her.
I only want whats best for you
I know you do. I love you, Mum. But enough is enough. Next time you notice something, ring and say, Martin, double-check that for me. Not all the drama and verdicts.
So youre taking her side, then.
Mum, its not about sides. Its about Liv and me. Thats what matters.
There was a long silence. He listened to her breathing.
Thats it. Thats all Ive got to say for now, he finished. Love you, Mum. Speak soon.
He hung up before she could answer. Watched the quiet phone for a moment.
Shed ring back. Or not, tonight. Shed be hurt, definitelyshe was a champion sulker, with long pauses and sighs. But hed stick to it. It needed saying long agohis mistake for not drawing the line before.
He called Liv.
Dialling. Rings. Then voicemail.
He put the phone down, went to the windowbirches now motionless, evening settling in, sky crisp and clear.
He sighed, shrugged on his jacket.
—
Hannah opened her door and barely needed askingsaw my face and just said, Come inkettles on.
We sat in her tiny kitchen, so cosy, curtains with dainty florals, her fat ginger cat Percy sprawled on the windowsill, the sweet smell of vanilla biscuits in the air. I sipped tea in silence. So did she. No pressure. She always knew silence had its place.
Hannah, Im justtired, I said at last.
I can see that.
Its not really because of the row. Rows come and go. This is something else.
What?
I hugged my mug. Looked out, steam curling against my face.
He doesnt trust me. After all these years, he still doesnt trust me. It just takes one word from his mum and suddenly Im the villain.
He does trust you, Hannah said softly. Its justElaines a strong character. You know how she is.
I do. But its Martins choice. Not hers. He decides who to believe first, and its never me.
Hannah said nothing.
Im not asking him to stop seeing his mum. Id never ask him that. He can love her, visit her, be there for her. I just want things clear. I want to be the first to know about things that involve me. Instead of always finding out after being shouted at.
Did you tell him all this?
I did.
And?
I walked out.
She sighed, poured me more tea.
Probably the right thing. Let him stew for a bit.
Im scared, Han.
What of?
I hesitated.
That nothing will ever change. That hell nod along, apologise, and next time something comes up, itll be him and his mum against me again. I cant keep at this for the rest of my life.
People can change, Liv.
They can. Slowly. Or they dont, ever. How do you know which?
Again, Hannah remained silent. Some questions just hang in the air, unanswerable, and you live with them.
Percy rolled over, stretching languidly. A car cruised by outside.
Well, I said, setting down my mug. Id better head back.
To his?
Yes. Nothing to be gained sitting here. Housework wont do itself.
Has he called?
I checked my phone. Missed callMartin.
He has.
There you go.
Means nothing, I said quietly, but I put on my jacket all the same.
—
I sat on the tram, watching the world scroll by. Spring citygrimy at the edges but bustling. Shoppers, kids on bikes, an old man on a bench scattering stale bread for the pigeons.
I thought of Dad.
Id go see him next week. Make sure he was managing on his own with the car, now he had itso long as his health held up.
I thought of Sam, my sonliving in another city, rarely calls but when he does, all is right for a while. Good lad. Nice wife. Maybe a grandchild soon, fingers crossed.
I thought about wallpaper choices again. Pale yellow or cream? Definitely creamfeels warmer.
The tram halted. My stop.
I got off.
—
The front door was unlocked.
I stood on the threshold, surprisedMartin always locked up. I stepped inside, shrugged off my coat.
Martin?
In here, his voice drifted from the lounge.
I found him sitting on the sofa. The TV was off. He just sat, hands on knees. Two mugs stood on the coffee table. Tea, maybe, or coffee.
He glanced up.
Youre back.
Im back.
I stood there a moment. He got up, sat, then got up again.
Liv, I spoke to your dadMr Edwards.
I know. Dad texted me.
Hes a good man.
He is.
He offered me pie.
He would.
The silence between us felt tight as a freshly pegged sheet. I came round to the sofa, sat at the far end. Picked up a mugcoffee, as it turned out.
Did you ring your mum? I asked.
He hesitated.
I did.
And?
I told her not to interfere. Said we could sort ourselves out.
I looked at him.
Really?
Really. Shes upset, obviously. Didnt hang up, butyou know the voice.
I do.
Well cope, he said, not quite convincingly, but not afraid either. Should have done it long ago.
I held my coffee, watching him. He was a bit slouched, rumpled, with an authenticity Ive always loved. Not polished, not heroicjust genuine. A bit battered, a bit lost, but still here.
Liv, Im sorry, he said. I was an idiot. No thinking, straight in. Mum rang and I just… It wasnt fair.
No, it wasnt.
I know. Short silence. You were talking about redecorating this morning?
Martin…
No, honestly. Lets do it. You pick whatever colour you want. And lets have a proper holiday somewhere niceby the sea, even if only a week. Youve been saying.
I dont want a holiday.
I know its not about that. He let out a long sigh. Im flounderingI dont know what else to offer. My heads fried.
I put my coffee down.
I dont want anything fancy, I said slowly, carefully. I just need you to trust me. Thats all. Its not hard, Martin.
I do trust you.
Today you trusted your mum.
He was quiet.
I was wrong, today.
Once is okay. What scares me is it isnt the first time. And Im afraid it wont be the last.
It wont happen again.
Martin, stop. You say it wont, but youve said that before too. I dont want promisesI want us to make an agreement.
He looked at me.
About what?
I shifted to face him.
Next time your mum says anything about me, you come to me and ask: Liv, true or not? Just ask. Ill answer. Thats all. Is that fair?
He thought for a while, studying me.
Yes, he said. Thats fair.
Deal?
Deal.
We sat together on the sofa. Only a few inches apart, perhaps less. Not touching, but not moving further away, either.
Out the window, dusk was gathering. The birch trees stood still in the settling twilight.
You do realise she wont let this go, I said gently. Elaine. Shell sulk for a month, then shell phone again.
I know.
Itll happen over and over.
I know.
How are you going to cope with that?
He didnt answer straight away. I liked that he didnt say the first thing that came into his head.
Im not sure yet, he admitted. Shes my mum. I love her. But youre rightshe oversteps. Ill talk to her again, properly, face to face. Make her understand.
Shell cry.
She will, he nodded. But Ill still be in the right.
I met his gaze, then glanced away.
You know this wont magically fix everything?
I do.
And shell blame me, say its all my fault?
Let her, he said, voice weary but certain. I live with you, Liv. Thats what matters. I dont want to keep fighting like this.
I nodded, slowly.
My coffee was stone cold by now. I drank it anyway.
Wallpaper, I blurted.
What?
Cream, probably. Or soft yellow. Havent decided.
He looked at me, then half-smiled, just a flicker.
Both are nice.
Well have to go pick out samples.
We will, he said. Whenever youre ready.
I nodded, set my mug aside. We sat there as the darkness deepened, the lamp casting warmth, and a certain gentleness filled the room despite anything.
Nothing was wholly fixedI knew that. Tomorrow, his mum could call again and Id have to face it all over. Martin had said the right things, and I could tell he meant them, but words and actions arent always the same, and I knew that better than most.
But for now, in this moment, we sat side by side. There was still something left.
Martin, I said.
Yes?
Could you make me another coffee? Hot, this time.
He got up at once, took my mug, headed to the kitchen. I heard the clatter and hum of the machine, the water pouring.
I sat watching the window, thinking how life isnot all celebrations, not all misery. Sometimes just exhaustion, unspoken wounds and minor, not-so-minor betrayals. But still together, still sharing everything.
He returned with two steaming cups. Sat close. Handed me one.
Cheers, I said.
My pleasure.
We sat awhile. Then, hesitantly, Martin rested his hand atop mine. I didnt pull away.
That deal, he said. About asking. Just straight upIs it true? Like that?
Just like that, I said.
And youll tell me?
Ill tell you.
He nodded.
Its really not hard, he said softly, as if checking for himself.
No, I agreed. Its really not.
A car passed, headlights flickering. My coffee was hot and rich. Tomorrow Id ring Dad, check how he and the car were getting on.
Wed pick out wallpaper at the weekend.
