**Diary Entry 15th March**
*Where are you going? Whos going to cook for us?*
“What on earth are you doing? Where do you think youre going? And whos going to make dinner now?” My husband, Thomas, stood there stunned, watching me after yet another row with his mother.
I glanced out the window. The sky was a dreary grey despite it being early spring. In our little northern town, sunny days were rareperhaps thats why the people here seemed so sullen and unwelcoming.
Lately, Id noticed my own reflection had lost its smile, the constant frown adding years to my face.
“Mum! Im going out!” my daughter, Emily, called from the hall.
“Fine,” I nodded.
“Fine? Give me some money, then.”
“Since when do walks cost anything?” I sighed.
“Mum! Seriously?” Emily rolled her eyes. “Theyre waiting for me! Hurry up! And why so little?”
“Its enough for ice cream.”
“Youre so stingy,” she muttered, already halfway out the door before I could reply.
Honestly I shook my head, remembering how sweet Emily had been before the teenage years hit.
“Tess, Im starving! Whens dinner?” Thomas bellowed from the living room.
“Go and eat,” I said flatly, setting a plate on the table.
“Arent you going to serve me?”
I nearly dropped the pot. What was he thinking?
“We eat in the kitchen, Tom. Take it or leave it,” I said, sitting down myself.
Fifteen minutes later, Thomas finally wandered in.
“Cold gross.”
“Next time, dont take so long.”
“I *asked* you! Not a shred of care or love in you, is there? You know Im watching the match!” He shoved a bite of chicken in his mouth. “Tastes rubbish.”
I just rolled my eyes. Football turned him into a different manbets, merchandise, overpriced tickets. An obsession, though hed never cared about sports when we were young.
Without sitting down, he grabbed a beer to “cheer up,” some crisps “for hunger,” and marched back to the telly. And there I stayedclearing the mess left behind.
No one appreciated a thing I did.
Exhausted from my shift as a senior nurse at the hospital, I came home only to start another jobfetch, serve, clean.
“Any drinks left?” Thomas rummaged through the fridge. “Whys there none?”
“You drank them all! Am I supposed to keep buying them? Have some shame, Tom!” I snapped.
“Oh, arent we touchy” He snorted, slamming the door as he left to “restock” for the next match.
I tried to sleeptomorrow was another long day. But sleep wouldnt come. I worried about Emily. Where was she? Who was she with? It was dark outside, and she still wasnt home. Calling her only led to rows.
“Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my friends?! Stop calling!” shed shout. So I stopped, telling myself she was eighteen now. No job, no studiesjust “finding herself” after finishing school.
Just as I dozed off, Thomass cheers jolted me awake. Someone mustve scored. Then came the loud debate with the neighbour whod “popped in” and stayed. His girlfriend joined, and soon they were all “cheering” together. Around midnight, Emily clattered in, banged some plates, and stomped off to bed. When silence *finally* settled, the cat started yowling for food.
“Does *anyone* in this house feed the cat but me?!” I stormed out, my head throbbing from exhaustion. Emily had her headphones on and just tapped her forehead mockingly. Thomas snored in front of the telly, a half-empty can in his hand.
*Ive had enough I cant take this anymore.*
The next morning, my mother-in-law rang.
“Tess, darling, you remember we need to plant the vegetables? And the cottage needs tidying.”
“I remember,” I sighed.
“Well go tomorrow.”
So my one day off was spent under her watchful eye at the allotment.
“Are you even sweeping properly? Hold the broom *this* way!” she barked from her bench.
“Im nearly fifty, Veronica. I think I can manage,” I dared to reply.
“Thomas would never do it like that.”
“And where *is* your precious son? Why didnt he drive you here? Why are we taking a three-hour bus? Its always *Thomas this, Thomas that*”
“Hes exhausted.”
“And Im not?”
Thats when it began. I instantly regretted speaking. Veronica loved fairnessas long as it favoured *her*. Thomas could do no wrong. To her, I was just the workhorse she tolerated.
We rode home in silence, sitting at opposite ends of the bus. The next day, she complained to Thomas, and he exploded.
“How *dare* you raise your voice at my mother?!” he shouted. “If it werent for her”
“What?” I folded my arms, realising I wouldnt stand for this anymore.
“Youd still be at that tiny clinic!” he spat, reminding me shed “helped” me get the hospital job. Better pay, but the stress turned my hair grey. More than once, Id regretted leaving that quiet practice.
“What are you doing?” His voice faltered as he saw what I did next.
For once, I did something Thomas *never* expected.
