And what exactly have you achieved with all this moaning? my husband asked. But what followed stunned him.
When else is one to wake up, if not at five in the morning, when your chest feels tight and heavy? I sat at the edge of the bed, gazing through the window at another grey London dawn.
My heart was skipping in odd ways again: two thuds, then nothing, three more, then silence. The doctor yesterday called them panic attacks. He gave me a referral for some tests.
Eighteen years. In that time, Ive gone from ambitious young graduate with an economics degree to well, what exactly? An extension of Sams business? A makeshift bookkeeper, handling his paperwork, forging signatures? A cleaner, who mops the kitchen floor in the evenings because Sam sees no dirt?
Awake already? Sam came into the kitchenface crumpled, discontent. You didnt sleep again last night?
I nodded, wordless. I poured him coffee. Fished out the Greek yoghurt hes eaten for breakfast for at least five years.
By the way, he said after a sip, Im off to Manchester today. Three days. Meeting a supplier. Important business.
Sam
I knew I shouldnt start. I knew that look. As if I were whining again, angling for sympathy he simply doesnt feel. But I said, anyway:
Please, not today. Im actually unwell. The doctor insists I get these tests.
He stilled, set his mug down, and exhaled through his nosethe way people do when tired of the same old conversation.
And what have you actually achieved with all this moaning? Almost calm. Not annoyed, more uninterested. I need to work, Marina. Work. Not spend every day listening to your episodes, how tired you are. Who isnt tired?
He started packing his bag, just as he always didknowing Id keep quiet, swallow the hurt, blame myselfagain, wrong words, wrong timing.
But this time, for some reason, I didnt stay silent.
Sam, I stood up, slowly, steadily. Do you even remember whose name the mortgage is under?
He turned. Smirked slightly.
What does it matter? Both of us, I imagine.
Its in my name. Only mine.
It was as if something snapped in the air. I saw his face change.
Whats your point?
My point is, eight years ago when we bought this flat, you had debts. Quite serious ones. No bank wouldve lent to you. Remember?
He said nothing.
So. The mortgage is in my name. The flat too. And Im co-signer on your business loans. The guarantor. You cant renew, expand, or do much of anything without my signature.
Sam slumped into a chair. Slowly, as if his legs had given way.
Why are you telling me this?
Just a reminder. Also I opened the sideboard drawer and placed a folder in front of him. I know about Jessica.
Sam stared at the folder.
He just sat there, rooted to the spot, face as if hed been struckstunned, not yet in pain, but his mind already dizzy.
About Jessica, I said again. My voice was level, calm. Even I hardly recognised it as my own. Vals bookkeeper. Pretty girltwelve years younger than me.
I opened the folder. Pulled out one sheet. Another. Fanned them across the table like a croupier at the casino.
Bank statements. The ones you so carefully kept hidden. See these transfers? Forty thousand. Fifty. Seventy. Every month.
He said nothing.
And these I added another printout, are the messages. Did you honestly think I didnt know the password to your work laptop? Sam, I made that password for you when you forgot the old one, three years ago.
He grabbed the sheets, scanned them, paled.
Where did you get these?
What does it matter? My hand shook slightly as I poured water. What matters is this. You funnelled money through her. Transferred to her account. Do you think the tax man will be interested?
Sam leapt up, voice cracking.
How dare you! Who do you think you are? Youve sponged off me your whole life! Earned nothing! Sat at home like a leech!
A leech? I let out a brittle, bitter laugh. Thats rich, isnt it? The leech who signed your banking contracts. Who ran your accounts while you were always at meetings. Who owns this flat and is co-signer on all your loans.
Youre threatening me?
No, I said, walking to the window. Im just laying out the facts. Because it seems youve forgotten the simplest things.
I turned to face him.
In the last six months, Ive renewed my degree, taken evening coursesbetween panic attacks and sleepless nights. Ive had a job offer. Nothing grand, but enough for me to rent and support myself and Chloe.
Chloe?! He jerked upright. Youre taking our daughter?
Have you even seen her this past month? I sat closer. Seriouslywhen was the last time you spoke to her?
Sam didnt answer, probably because he really couldnt remember.
I picked up one more document from the table.
Neurologist’s report. Chronic exhaustion. Panic attacks. Recommendationchange of environment, therapy, removal of stress factors. See this line? Long-term exposure to high stress. Do you know what that puts you at risk of?
Marina.
It means, if I file for divorce now, the court will favour me.
I placed the last sheet in front of him.
Most importantly, you cant renew your credit line without my signatureVal rang yesterday. Said the bank needs documents. And they need me to sign.
Sam sat back down, ashen.
What do you want? His voice was hoarse. Money?
I laugheda low, soundless laugh.
Money? Sam, I want basic respect. I want you to admit, for once, that without me youd have nothing. No business. No flat. Not even this blasted trip youre so desperate to take.
I grabbed my bag.
You have until tonight. Ill be at Olivias with Chloe. Think it over. When youre ready to talk, call me. But dont expect the old Marina who swallowed everything and stayed silent.
Sam called six hours later.
I was at Olivias, sipping peppermint tea, and felt oddly light. It was as if Id just thrashed my way out of a bog, face smeared, finally realising it was possible to breathe freely.
Hello, I answered. My voice didnt tremble.
I need to talk to you.
Im listening.
Not over the phone. A pause. Come home.
I smiled to myself.
No, Sam. If you want to talk, come here. You remember the address?
He arrived in an hour. Angry, tense, like a man cornered wholl lash out if pressed.
Olivia, sensing the tension, took Chloe to her room. I stayed in the kitchen.
How dare you? Sam slammed his fist down. Youre blackmailing me?
No. Im just stating the facts.
What facts? You stole my files! You spied on me! You invaded my computer!
I sighed. Sam, do you really think now is the best time to attack me? After everything Ive shown you?
He was silentbecause I was right.
Listen carefully. I leaned forward. Im not here to destroy you. Im not going to the tax inspector or making a scene. I just want you to finally realisewithout me, you dont have a leg to stand on.
You want a divorce? He croaked.
Do you?
Sam looked away. Silent for a long moment. Then exhaled:
With Jessicait meant nothing.
Dont interrupt. I raised my hand. Ive known about Jessica for six months. I knew about the money, the half-real business trips. I knewand I stayed quiet. Thought, maybe itll pass. Maybe youd come to your senses.
I laughed bitterly.
Or maybe I was just too scared to admit our marriage ended five years ago, and we’ve both just been acting.
Marina
Im done living with someone who treats me as unnecessary background, who belittles every word, every plea. Who never noticed I was falling apart next to him from panic and insomnia.
Sam sat, pale, fists clenched.
Youve a choice, I said. We can try again. No more lies, no more cheating.
Or youll leave and take everything with you.
No. I shook my head. Ill leave and take only whats mine. The flat. My share of the business. The loans in my name become your problem. Im starting a new life.
I stood, signalling the conversation was done.
You have three days. Think about it. And when youre ready to talkcall. But know this: the Marina who kept her head downshe died at five this morning.
A week later, Sam came round again.
Gone was that inflated confidence behind which hed always hid weakness. He sat at Olivias table, drained and defeated.
Val says if you dont sign, the bank wont extend the credit, he blurted out. Business will collapse.
I nodded.
I know.
So what do you want?
I looked at him.
I want a divorce.
Sam went pale.
Youre serious?
More than ever. I poured myself tea. My hands were steady. Ill sign at the bank, renew the credit. But on one conditionwe divorce. Civilised. No drama. You get the business, buy my share. The flats mine. Chloe stays with me.
Marina
Ive made up my mind, Sam. I smiled. You know the best part? For the first time in years, I slept properly without pills. I actually slept. Without an attack.
He was silent.
I realised something. Im not unwell. I dont need treatment. I just needed to leave you, this life where I meant nothing.
I got up.
You have a choice. If you agree to my terms, we do this quietly. Or I go to court, show every file, and youll lose more than your business. You decide.
Sam hung his head. He knewhed lost. The woman he thought weak was stronger than him after all.
All right, he whispered. I agree.
Three months later, it was official.
I had the flat, a decent sum for my business share, and a new job.
Sam was left with the business, a new flat, and a strange emptinessespecially in the evenings, when he got home to find no one to talk to, no one to just sit with.
Jessica left him a month after the divorce. Turns out, she was after an easy life, not love. When she realised Sam was paying every loan alone, no more sponsor for comfortable living, she lost interest.
I heard the news from Val. I smiled. Felt absolutely nothing. No spite, no pity.
Nothing.
Is it really so bad, after all, to be involved in your husbands business? What do you think?
