Thought youd just turned up to tidy up, my motherinlaw, Margaret, said with a smirk as she rifled through my suitcases.
Are you even listening to me, Mark? Im talking to you and youre glued to that phone of yours! I snapped, feeling the familiar sting of her tone.
Yes, I hear you. What did you want to say? I tried to stay calm.
Alison clenched her fists. The detached, indifferent way Margaret had spoken for months was grinding her nerves. I stared at the screen, not even looking up.
I wanted to discuss where well go on holiday. But, as always, you dont seem to care, Alison said.
Alison, Im exhausted. Can we talk tomorrow? I suggested, still scrolling.
Tomorrow! Every time its tomorrow! What, lifes not happening today? she retorted.
I finally tore my eyes away from the phone and glared at my wife, irritation plain on my face.
What are you hanging on to? Works piled up, my heads throbbing. I cant think about a break right now, I said.
Youre always at work! When was the last time we actually talked? Went somewhere together? she demanded.
Alison, enough. Dont start, I warned.
But she couldnt stop. So many grievances, unsaid words, the loneliness of living alone in our flat had built up.
Dont start? Do you even notice Im here? Am I just furniture to you? I cooked dinner, washed shirts, and you treat me like a rag? she exploded.
I stood up, shoved the phone into my pocket.
Im off to see Simon. This place is just a battlefield of arguments, I muttered.
Run! Alison shouted after me. As usual, you dodge a proper conversation and run to a mate!
The door slammed. Alison was left standing alone in the middle of the room, her hands shaking, a lump forming in her throat. She shuffled to the kitchen, splashed water on her face, sat at the table and rested her head on her hands.
What was happening to our marriage? It had once been easy. We laughed, made plans, dreamed together. Now we were strangers sharing a roof. I was always at work or at a friends house. She drifted around the flat, cooking, cleaning, and no one seemed to notice.
Alison pulled out her phone and texted her friend Charlotte: Can I come over?
Charlotte replied instantly: Of course! Whats happened?
Will tell you later. Im heading out in half an hour.
Alison never left for Charlotte. She sank into an armchair and thought. Then a thought flickered why not pop over to Margarets in the village? To her motherinlaw.
Although they saw each other rarely, the relationship was polite. Margaret lived alone in a big house built by her late husband. I hardly visited; work always got in the way. Alison had helped her a few times with chores, and Margaret was grateful.
She rose, went to the bedroom, fetched an old travel suitcase from the attic and began packing clothes, a cardigan, jeans, her makeup bag, a few books and a charger.
She didnt know how long shed stay a week, perhaps longer. She needed air, quiet, a chance to sort herself out.
When I came home late that night, she was already in bed or at least pretending to be. I slipped onto my side of the bed without touching her.
In the morning Alison rose early, dressed, grabbed the suitcase and left a note on the kitchen table: Went to your mums. Will help her around the house. Ill be back when Ive sorted things out. Then she walked out.
The bus to the village took three hours. Alison watched fields and woods drift past the window. Anxiety mixed with a strange lightness. She hadnt stayed home to stew in selfpity or start another fight; shed simply gone.
The village greeted her with quiet and the scent of freshly cut grass. Margarets cottage sat at the edge of the lane, the woods beyond. Alison opened the gate and walked up the path. On the porch Margaret was scrubbing potatoes in a large basin.
Alison? Margaret looked up, surprised. Where have you been?
Good afternoon, Margaret. Im here to stay, Alison replied.
Margaret wiped her hands on a teatowel, rose, and gave Alison a warm smile. She was a sturdy woman, broadshouldered, with a round, kindly face and silver hair tied in a braid.
Come in, come in! Is Mark with you?
No, Im on my own.
Alone? Margaret glanced at the suitcase. Staying for long?
Just for a bit. May I stay a while? I wont be a bother?
Of course, dear! Not a bother at all. In fact, its a pleasure. Ill put the kettle on.
They moved from the cool hallway into a bright kitchen that smelled of dill and fresh bread. Jars of jam lined the windowsill, and embroidered tea towels hung on the walls.
Alison set her suitcase by the door while Margaret bustled about, fetching cups and cutting a cake.
Sit down, love. You must be exhausted. How was the journey?
Fine, thank you.
Is Mark working? Couldnt he break away for a day?
Alison stayed silent, unsure what to say. Margaret studied her closely.
Are you two fighting? she asked gently.
Yes, Alison admitted softly. Im tired, Margaret. I needed to get away for a while.
Margaret nodded, pouring tea.
I understand. Men can be like that cold one minute, hot the next. You have to know how to handle them, she said.
I dont know how, Alison murmured, clasping the warm mug. Or maybe he doesnt love me any more.
Dont be silly! Margaret waved her hand. Mark loves you. Hes just wrapped up in his work, thats all. Rest here, gather strength. Youll see things smooth out.
Alison nodded, though doubt lingered. She didnt want to argue.
Where could I find work, then? she asked.
Theres a spare room upstairs. The beds fresh, just made. Make yourself at home, Margaret replied.
Alison lugged the suitcase into the small upstairs room: a single window overlooking the garden, a bed, a wardrobe, a tiny desk. She set the suitcase on a chair and perched on the edge of the bed.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Mark: Read your note. Did you really go to Mums?
Alison replied: Yes.
Why?
Needed to, she typed.
When will you be back?
I dont know. She set the phone aside and stared at the ceiling. A mixture of pain and relief settled over her.
That evening Alison and Margaret dined together. Margaret talked about the garden, the neighbours, a leaky roof that needed a tradesman.
I told Mark to come and help, but hes always busy, she said.
He really does work a lot, Alison observed.
Exactly. He makes money but his life passes by. He never visits his mother, never gives his wife attention.
Alison looked at Margaret, surprised.
You see it, then? she asked.
Im not blind, dear. I see how youve sunk. Sad eyes. You think I dont get why youre here? Not to be useful, but to find some peace, Margaret replied.
Sorry, Margaret. I didnt mean to deceive you.
You didnt. You just kept quiet. Thats your right. Stay as long as you need. I have company, you have a break, Margaret said, pouring more tea.
Tears welled in Alisons eyes. Thank you. Youre very kind.
Sweetheart, Margaret sighed, I went through the same thing. My husband was a nightmare at first. I thought Id lose my mind, but I adapted. The key is not to bottle everything up. Talk, explain yourself.
I tried. He doesnt hear me.
Then you werent trying the right way. Men are like children; you have to be clever with them.
Alison listened, though she doubted cleverness would fix a deeper problem.
The next morning Margaret nudged her awake early. Alison, get up! Help me water the garden before it gets too hot.
Alison slipped into old jeans and a tee, and they headed out. Margaret showed her where the tomatoes grew and handed her a watercan.
Water the roots of the tomatoes, and give the cucumbers a generous drink, Margaret instructed.
The work felt oddly soothing. The sun warmed their backs, the earth smelled fresh, and Alisons thoughts slowed.
After they finished, Margaret led her back inside.
Lets have breakfast. Ive made pancakes, she announced.
They ate the pancakes with butter and jam while Margaret recounted her youth, how she met her late husband, and how they built the house together.
It was hard, but we did it as a team. Thats what matters being together, she said. You and Mark seem to live apart.
Yes, Alison admitted. Im like a servant at home: cooking, cleaning, and then Im invisible. No conversations.
Mark was like that as a boy, Margaret mused. Quiet, kept everything inside. His father would shout, Speak up, lad! but he stayed silent.
What do you do with a man like that?
Love him, endure him, but dont stay silent. Show him youre there, that you matter, Margaret replied. Hell figure it out eventually.
Is I still matter to him?
Margaret held Alisons gaze a long moment. Yes, love. He just cant show it yet.
Alison finished her tea, wanting to believe but feeling the knot of doubt tighten.
The day passed in chores: they tended the garden again, harvested apples from the cellar, and in the evening Margaret pulled out her embroidery frame.
Sit if you like. Ive got spare hoops, she offered.
Alison, who hadnt held a needle in years, settled beside her. The quiet tick of the old mantel clock filled the room.
You know, Alison, Im glad you came, Margaret said suddenly.
Really? Alison asked.
Yes. Its lonely on my own. And I worry about Mark. Im afraid you two will drift farther apart.
We already have, Alison whispered.
Its not too late to turn back, Margaret replied.
What if I dont want to? Alison asked.
Margaret looked up from her stitching. Then its deeper than I thought.
Silence settled. Inside Alison felt a battle of feelings: a part of her wanted to walk away, divorce, start anew; another part still clung to the hope of mending what was broken.
That night she dreamed of a long hallway with Mark at the far end. She called his name, but he didnt hear. He turned and walked away. She woke in a cold sweat.
Outside the window the darkness remained. She lay staring at the ceiling, wondering if it was a sign to let go.
In the morning Margaret noticed her red eyes. Bad night?
Not great, Alison admitted.
Margaret poured herbal tea. This is lemon balm. It calms.
May I ask you something? Alison said.
Go on.
Did you ever regret marrying Marks father?
Margaret paused. I did, especially when hed drink too much or stay silent for weeks, walking around angry. I thought of running, but I didnt. I stayed because I loved them and the children. Over time we found a rhythm.
I dont want to just get used to it, Alison sighed. I want to be loved, valued.
Thats right, Margaret nodded. And you shouldnt endure forever if things get terrible. But sometimes a fresh talk, honest and calm, can work. No shouting, no blame.
Im scared its already too late.
Its not, as long as you both breathe, Margaret replied.
A week passed. Alison settled into the slow village life: mornings in the garden, then breakfast, afternoons helping Margaret, evenings stitching or chatting.
Mark called once a day, asking how she was and when shed return. Alison gave vague answers; she didnt know herself.
One evening, while they were on the porch, neighbour Aunt Vera stopped by.
Oh, visitors! she chirped. Whos this, Margaret?
My daughterinlaw, Alison, Margaret said.
Aha! So Mark hasnt shown up? Vera teased.
Hes working, Margaret replied curtly.
Yes, working. The wifes come here to tidy up, help out. Good on her, dear! Vera laughed.
Alison said nothing, letting Veras words hang.
When Vera left, Margaret smirked. Good she thinks that, otherwise shed start gossiping about a runaway bride.
I didnt run away, Alison said. I just took a pause.
I know, love, Margaret replied.
A few days later Alison opened her suitcase, pulling out dresses, shirts, and sweaters. Margaret entered from the garden, saw the pile and chuckled.
I thought youd only come to clean up, she said, eyeing the winter clothes. Looks like youre stocking up for the cold.
Alison froze, a dress in her hands.
Sorry, Margaret. I dont want to overstay your hospitality, she stammered.
Dont be silly! Stay as long as you like. But tell me, are you thinking of staying forever or heading home?
Alison sat down, sighing. Honestly, I dont know. Here I feel calm, but the thought of going back makes me uneasy.
Then youre not ready yet, Margaret said. Time will tell.
She sat opposite Alison. Ill be straight with you, love. Mark is my son and I love him, but I see hes been wrong to you. If you decide to leave, Ill understand. If you stay, try to help him become better. Teach him to value you.
And if he refuses to learn?
Then you truly must go. Dont waste your life on someone who doesnt appreciate you.
Alison nodded, grateful for the honesty.
A few days later Mark called.
Alison, enough. Come back home, he said.
No, she replied.
Youre my wife!
Youre the wife you ignore, who never hears you, he snapped.
He fell silent.
Have you changed? he asked finally.
No, Mark. I cant live like this any longer, Alison said.
What do you want from me?
I want you to be present, not just in body but in spirit. I want us to talk, I want you to care about my life.
I do care! he protested. When was the last time you asked how I was?
Thats exactly the point, Alison said. Think about it.
She hung up, her hands trembling but her resolve firm. She finally voiced everything that had built up inside her.
Margaret stood in the doorway. Good girl, she said. Let him think it over.
Days passed, and Alison almost accepted that she might remain in the village forever, helping Margaret, working the garden, living a quiet life.
One morning a car pulled up outside the cottage. Alison looked out the window and froze it was Mark.
He stepped out, walked to the porch, and Margaret opened the door.
Mum, he said.
Hello, son. Come in, Margaret replied.
Mark entered, saw Alison at the kitchen sink, and stopped.
Hey, he said.
Hey, Alison replied, holding a wooden spoon.
Margaret slipped away to the garden.
Alison asked, Why are you here?
Because of you, Mark answered.
I dont want to go back, Alison said.
Why?
Nothings changed, he replied.
He moved closer. It has changed. Ive realized Im losing you and I dont want that.
Alison smiled bitterly. Youll say nice things, then everything will go back to how it was.
No, he shook his head. This time its different. Youre the most important thing to me. Im sorry I hid behind work and forgot there was a home waiting for me.
How can I trust you? she asked, eyes watery.
Youll see. Give me a chance. Ill prove it.
She looked into the eyes she had once fallen in love with, now filled with remorse and a flicker of hope.
Okay, she whispered. One chance. But if you revert, Ill leave for good.
I wont, he promised.
Margaret returned from the garden, smiling at the two of them. Well, are the lovebirds making up? she teased.
Were trying, Mum, Mark said, hugging his mother. Thank you for taking Alison in.
No problem, love, Margaret replied. Shes helped me a lot. You have a good wife. Look after her.
We will.
They drove back home that evening. Alison stared out the window as Mark occasionally glanced her way.
Will you really give me a chance? she asked.
I will. Its the last one, he answered.
When they arrived, everything looked the same familiar walls, the same furniture. Yet something inside her felt different. She no longer felt like a stranger in her own flat.
Mark set the suitcaseHe placed the suitcase gently beside ours, and together we finally began to rebuild our life.
