Tom, I need your help with Mums birthday present.
Samantha set down her mobile and turned to her husband, who was sprawled on the sofa, lazily flicking through TV channels, his eyes firmly glued to the screen.
What do you mean, present? he mumbled.
A cooker. A really good one. Youve forgotten its her birthday in two weeks.
Tom finally looked up at her, a flicker of irritation in his eyes, quickly masked by a forced smile.
Whats wrong with her old one? It looks alright to me.
Samantha sat on the sofa arm, smoothing a crease in her house dress absentmindedly.
You saw it yourself last time we visited. The oven barely heats, two hobs are shot, and Mum keeps complaining her cakes never bake properly anymore. It matters to her you know that.
Maureen Bennett loved nothing more than baking. Her kitchen was forever scented with vanilla and cinnamon, fresh scones cooling on the windowsill, and neighbours just popping in for a cuppa, knowing shed never let them leave empty-handed. That ancient cooker, bought back in the seventies, was down to its last breaths.
Alright, Tom groaned, sitting up straight. What do you want me to do?
Pick out a proper model. You know tech better than I do. Just pop to John Lewis, have a look, organise delivery. Works manic for me at the moment, Ive got no time.
Samantha pulled her bank card from her handbag and handed it to him. The navy plastic glinted in the lamp light.
My bonus is loaded on here just over sixty thousand, she said. Is that enough for a decent cooker?
Tom turned the card in his fingers, lips twitching slightly.
More than enough. Dont worry, Ill sort it.
Samantha nodded. Five years of marriage had taught her to trust Tom with household errands. He was great at finding deals, haggling for discounts and extras it was his forte.
Promise you wont leave it to the last minute? I want it sorted for her birthday.
Ill get it done, Tom muttered, shoving the card into the pocket of his lounge trousers and reaching for the remote again.
One week passed. Samantha squashed into a packed double-decker bus on her way home from work, idly checking her account balance on her phone.
Transaction: £1,500.
She smiled at the numbers. Tom hadnt let her down. That was substantial; surely hed picked something special, probably with a grill, timer, and sliding door like Mum had always wanted. Maureen could finally bake her legendary Victoria sponges without fearing an oven mishap.
She pictured her mothers face receiving the gift laughter lines crinkling with joy, lips quivering, and then Maureen would say her usual, Oh, you two! You shouldnt have spent so much! before instantly planning which cake shed try first.
Quality is what lasts. Samantha remembered her nan singing the praises of her old English cooker that lasted thirty years without a single breakdown. If you invest in the best, it stays with you
Her birthday fell on Saturday. Early morning, Samantha buzzed about packing flowers and little gifts alongside the main event. Tom wandered the flat, checking his watch now and then.
Dont forget the envelope, Samantha called, zipping her boots. Did you put the cooker documents in?
All sorted, Tom patted his jackets inside pocket.
They reached Maureens at noon. Despite the temperamental cooker, her flat was filled with the smell of fresh baking. Relatives crammed by the hall, glasses chinking, laughter spilling from the living room.
Samantha wrapped her arms around her mother.
Happy birthday, Mum. Heres something for you.
She handed over the thick cream envelope, never peeking inside there was no need. Tom had sorted it.
Maureens face lit up.
Oh, darlings, youre too much! She slit open the envelope, anticipation sparkling in her eyes.
Samantha watched warmly. A second passed. Then Maureens smile faded, her face suddenly lost.
Whats this, then?
Samantha frowned, peering over her mothers shoulder.
A beauty voucher. £75.
Seventy-five.
Tom! she spun round, finding him already edging toward the door. What is this?
Oh, come on brilliant voucher, really good stuff in there
And the cooker?
He didnt answer. In a flash, he slipped onto the balcony and shut the door behind him.
Samantha followed. She yanked open the door hard enough for the glass to rattle.
Explain. Now.
Tom flattened himself against the railing.
Look, Jennys totally burnt out at work, she needed a break desperately And I just couldnt
What break? Whos Jenny? Samantha advanced, eyes blazing. I gave you money for a cooker for my mother!
There was a holiday deal, you know? All-inclusive, Turkey, just £1,425 It was going to expire. You get it, right?
Samantha snatched his phone before he could react. Her fingers slid over the screen, opening his messages. The thread with the travel agent: dates, amounts, giddy texts from Jenny, laden with heart emojis.
Tom, youre the best! Thanks a million! Flying Friday!
Samantha looked up. Tom hunched over as if wishing the balcony would swallow him whole.
She called the agency. Ring, ring.
Good afternoon, Horizon Travel, this is Helen, how can I help?
Hello. Booking under Jenny Barnes, Turkey, flight goes Friday. I need it cancelled.
Im sorry, are you
Im the card holder. That payment went through without my consent.
Tom lunged, but Samantha stopped him with a stiff palm.
One moment, the agents voice turned frosty. Yes, found it. Please visit our office tomorrow and well deal with the refund. The money will be back to your account in about ten working days.
Thank you. Ill come tomorrow.
She ended the call and tossed the phone at Tom.
Samantha, love, come on now
But she was already gone. She strode through the silent lounge, where relatives pretended to be absorbed in salads, over to Maureen, still clutching the damned voucher.
Mum, come on. Lets get you a real present.
Maureen didnt argue. She pulled on her coat, grabbed her bag and followed her daughter, leaving the guests behind.
In the appliance centre, the air smelled of plastic and new machines. A young salesman, badge reading James, explained the differences with patience.
This ones the best, he said, tapping a glossy white cooker. Perfect for baking, even heat, timer, grill, convection.
Maureen ran her fingers over the smooth surface.
Shes a beauty, she whispered.
Well take it, Samantha nodded. Can you deliver tomorrow morning?
Slots open, nine to twelve.
Paperwork took fifteen minutes. Quietly, on the way home, Maureen squeezed Samanthas arm.
Sammy, darling, Im worried about you.
Please dont, Mum.
Its just Tom. Are you?
Samantha hugged her close.
Ill manage. Lets not think about it tonight. Happy birthday, Mum.
She returned home late. Tom sat gloomily on the darkened sofa, TV blank.
We need to talk, he started, rising with intent.
Samantha walked past him, opened the wardrobe, and started folding his shirts into a suitcase.
What are you doing? Tom cried. Sam, stop! I only wanted to help my sister. That holiday was her only chance for a break!
Jeans, t-shirts, socks. Samantha methodically cleared the shelves.
Youre ruining our marriage over a bloody cooker! And you alone will be to blame!
She stopped, turned slowly to face him.
I trusted you with my bonus, Tom. I asked for one thing a present for my mum. And you threw it all on your sister.
Oh, threw is a bit much
You didnt even ask! You just did it. And lied.
Tom stepped forward, arms reaching. Samantha brandished his sweatshirt like a shield.
Dont touch me!
Jenny was in bits, honestly
Take your things and go.
A month later, Samantha sat at Maureen Bennetts kitchen table. The pristine white cooker gleamed, oven working at full pelt, the scent of vanilla sponge rich in the air.
Guess what? Ive signed up for pastry classes! Maureen was radiant. My neighbour Liz told me a real French chefs teaching!
Samantha nibbled her cake. Silky cream melted on her tongue.
This is delicious, Mum. Just heavenly.
The divorce was swift, no fuss needed. Tom never understood why she wouldnt forgive his little mishap. Jenny, perhaps, used her own savings for a getawayor maybe she didnt go at all. Samantha no longer cared.
She watched her mother bustling happily by the new cooker, busy and content. Evening shadows fell outside. Ahead lay a new beginning without lies, without betrayal, without someone who treated money and trust as disposable.
Samantha smiled and reached for another slice of cake. Why not, indeed?
