Today was supposed to be a special day. As I dragged myself up the steps to our flat in Reading yes, three days ahead of schedule to surprise Tom, laden with a mountain of treats from Mum and Dad I felt exhausted but excited.
It wasnt easy lugging the two massive bags after the long coach ride. My shoulder was throbbing and my lower back, as always these days, ached so intensely I had to stop at the bus stop to regroup and catch my breath. Honestly, six months along in pregnancy is no picnic, especially while hauling homemade chutneys, a box of Granny Smith apples, and a dense fruitcake through damp English streets.
Id counted off every mile for the last leg of the journey, so keen was I to see Tom again. I wondered what he was up to, probably sprawled on the sofa, blissfully unaware I was only a short stroll from home. All I wanted was a warm hello and perhaps a cuddle, something to remind me how much Id missed him.
After barely making it another fifty yards, I realised my body simply couldnt carry these bags any further. Embarrassed as I was to ask for help, I finally rang Tom.
Hi, Tom, its me. I tried to sound bright, though my voice quivered with exhaustion.
Lucy? Whats wrong? Are you alright? he stammered, clearly taken off guard.
Nothings wrong. Im here! On the bench outside our block. Can you come down and help me up? Mum went overboard as usual and these bags are a nightmare.
He went quiet on the line, enough to make me check my phone for signal.
Youre outside? Right now? But we said Thursday! Why didnt you warn me?
I wanted to surprise you. I paused, disappointed by his tone. Tom, are you not happy? Im absolutely shattered. Please, can you come down?
Wait, dont come up yet! He suddenly sounded panicked. Listen, the kitchens bare, I polished off everything last night. I took the day off to make you a lovely meal properly greet you home. Theres that twenty-four-hour Tesco Express just around the corner. Could you stop in and pick up some beef and new potatoes, please? I want everything to be just right for you.
I stared at my red palms, tears prickling. Tom, are you joking? Im six months pregnant, outside with these stupidly heavy bags, and you want me to shop before I even sit down?
He interrupted swiftly, I just want it to be perfect, Luce. Its only a few steps away, honest. Get a bit of beef about 800 grams and a bag of King Edwards. Ill get things ready, please, just this once.
I chewed my lip, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Instead, I gave in, hoisted my burdens, and trudged to Tesco, cursing the universe for this so-called surprise.
Inside, my hands cramped around the trolley as the sleepy cashier watched me with a look of pity. The beef was heavy, the bag of spuds worse, and by the time Id finished, my fingers had gone numb with the strain. As I reached our building, Tom rang again, chirpier than ever.
You got everything? he asked.
Yes, I answered through clenched teeth. Can you open up?
Wait dont come up yet! Just sit on the bench for ten minutes, okay? Dont move.
Are you actually serious? Tom, my feet are swollen, my back is killing me, and you want me to wait outside?
The surprise isnt ready! Just five more minutes, love! Please! Im hanging up or I wont finish in time!
So I sank onto the cold wooden bench with my bags sprawled at my feet, fighting the urge to throw the beef straight at our third-floor window. Minutes crawled by into a full-blown half-hour. What was I meant to expect when I finally got inside? Candles? Roses? Mozart in the lounge? Nothing could possibly make up for being left outside after that coach ride.
At last, the door clattered open and Tom bolted out, grinning in a crumpled t-shirt, sticky with sweat, hair stuck up at odd angles.
There you are! Whats with the face? Gorgeous day out, isnt it, he babbled, grabbing the bags. Come on, lets get you in.
I eyed his state as I staggered up, clutching the rail. Why are you soaking wet, Tom? And why do you reek of cleaning products?
Just wait! he said giddily, leading the way.
Inside hit me like a chemical wall the overpowering tang of Domestos and some knock-off ocean breeze room spray. The flat was spotless. Kitchen, lounge, bathroom even the skirting boards gleamed. Hed tidied his usual clutter from the chairs; the carpet was still damp with streaks.
He turned to me like a little boy, radiating pride. Well? Surprise!
I stared at him. Is… is this it?
He gaped. What do you mean? Lucy, I spent hours on this! Washed the windows! Hoovered everywhere, even near the radiators! Cleaned the loo until it sparkled. I wanted you to come home to a pristine flat. Thats why I needed more time. I even made you get the shopping so youd walk in and see everything perfect.
A lump closed up my throat.
So… so to mop the floor, you left me waiting with heavy bags, after a seven-hour coach, in the cold? My voice crumbled.
I wanted to do something nice! You always say I never lift a finger. I was trying to prove a point. Tom threw his cloth into the sink, face flushed. If youd arrived Thursday, not early, I wouldve been ready. Instead, I had to stall you! And youre not even saying thank you just scowling like Ive ruined your birthday!
I snapped, finally letting it out. Tom, I dont care about the floors! What I needed was for you to walk down those stairs, take my hand, bring me upstairs and let me rest! Not scrub so much that you forgot about me.
He threw up his arms. Oh, here we go! You cant ever be pleased. Ive killed myself cleaning this place. Up since 5am, thinking about how to make you happy. And all I hear is complaints! Some women would be thrilled!
Well, Im not one of them! I wanted you to care about me, not the skirting boards! At that, I burst into tears, slumping into a kitchen chair. My stomach twisted in knots as baby kicked.
He stormed out, banging the bedroom door so hard the windows rattled, shouting all the way.
I glanced at the untouched packet of beef. Everything felt pointless. Id pictured a gentle homecoming hug, not an argument that left me feeling utterly lonely.
Ten minutes later, he slouched back in. Do you want me to cook, or are you just not eating now to spite me?
Leave it, Tom. I just need a nap, I muttered.
Fine! Suit yourself! He banged out again.
I managed to peel myself out of the chair, wash the day from my face in the bathroom, and stared at my tired, blotchy reflection. None of this was how Id imagined it. On the bus, Id pictured Tom opening the door, smiling: Thank God youre back. I should have known better.
When I later tried to speak to him, another row erupted, and Id had enough. I left as I was, didnt even change, and took a taxi back to my parents.
His family called, my own family pleaded, even Tom rang, apologising and promising things would change. But Id made up my mind. Why stay with someone who cares more about sparkling tiles than your wellbeing, and the health of your baby? Divorce was the only way forward for me.
Sometimes you just have to put yourself, and your child, first.
