The Crocodile Handbag
Saturday was peaceful. A light rain tapped against the windows, and the flat smelled of freshly brewed teathat quiet, lazy comfort of a weekend morning. Emily settled into the old armchair, the one theyd inherited from her grandmother, its cushions sagging with years of use. She cradled her favourite mug, the warmth soothing against her palms. *This is bliss*, she thought, inhaling the scent of Earl Grey. No interruptions, no talk of work or moneyjust her, a hot drink, and a new show on her tablet.
These quiet moments had become her refuge lately. James, her husband, had been out of work for three months, and the house had slowly turned into a battleground of unspoken frustrations. He spent his days glued to his laptopgaming, watching football, supposedly job-hunting, though the screen rarely showed anything remotely professional.
“Love!” James voice shattered the silence like a firework. “You wont believe it! Mums picked out her anniversary gift!”
He barged in, grinning like a schoolboy whod aced his exams. Emily slowly looked up from her screen. Something in his tone set off warning bells.
“A crocodile leather handbag!” he announced, oblivious to her suspicion. “Shes wanted one for ages!”
Emily set her mug down carefully, narrowing her eyes.
“A crocodile handbag? Did she choose that herself, or did someone put the idea in her head? And has she considered what animal rights activists might say?”
The sarcasm sailed right over him.
“Shes my mother! She deserves it!”
“Deserves it?” Emily felt her patience snap. “What exactly has she done to earn it? Fineshe raised you. But Ive got my own parents. And how much is this gift costing?”
James cleared his throat, suddenly sheepish.
“Oh, not much About five months of your salary.”
Emilys stomach dropped.
“Five months?” she repeated, her voice dangerously calm.
“Well, its genuine Nile crocodile, not some cheap knock-off,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“And why are you telling me? I couldnt care less.”
James shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze.
“Er I put it on credit.”
“On *credit*?”
“Yeah. Thank goodness for my sister Lucyshe works at the bank, sorted it all out in no time.”
Emilys blood ran cold.
“And whose name is it in?”
The realisation hit her like a brick.
“Well yours. Obviously. I just used your details.”
Emily stood up slowly, her grip tightening around her mug. She wanted to throw it at him.
“So, James, darlingyouve been unemployed for months, decided to splash out on Mummy, and now *Im* stuck with the bill?”
James took a step back, sensing the storm brewing.
“Emily, it just happened that way! Youre the only one working, after all.”
“I *am* working! While you sit around like a teenager on summer break, expecting me to cover your ridiculous spending?”
“Dont overreact! Its just a loanhardly the end of the world!”
Just then, his mother, Margaret, swept in, as she often did. She claimed to be visiting, but really, she came to criticise.
“Whats all the shouting about?” she demanded, arms folded.
“Nothing, Mum. Emilys just upset about the loan,” James muttered.
“Upset? Why?” Margaret scoffed. “Family helps familyits your duty.”
“My *duty*?” Emily echoed. “To buy extravagant gifts while you two spend my money?”
“Of course! You earn wellwhy shouldnt you contribute?”
“And James? Whats *his* contribution?”
“James is my sonand your *husband*. You should support him.”
“Husband?” Emily laughed bitterly. “Is that what you call a man who takes loans out in his wifes name because he cant be bothered to work?”
“Emily!” James spluttered. “Thats cruel! Were a family!”
“Fine,” Emily said, lips pressed into a thin line. “Ill sort it myself tomorrow. And trust meitll be *sorted*.”
She smiled faintly, a glint in her eye that made James uneasy. She already knew exactly how to fix this.
“Good girl,” Margaret nodded approvingly.
The next day, Emily made a few discreet phone calls. By evening, shed arranged a meeting with a buyer.
When she got home, she greeted James with a sweet smile.
“Darling! Ive got news!”
“Oh?” He looked up from the sofa, clueless.
“I paid off that loan for the crocodile handbag.”
“Really?” He lit up. “Youre amazing! How?”
“Simple. I sold your car.”
James went pale.
“You *what*? My *car*?”
“Yep. Quick sale, just enough to cover the loan.”
“Have you lost your mind?! How am I supposed to get around?”
Emily shrugged innocently.
“Ride the crocodile handbag. I read some are made from *very* supple leathermight even turn into a suitcase if you stroke it right.”
James turned puce.
“You cant be serious! That was *my* car! And you sold it for peanuts!”
“No car, no debt. Seems fair. And your mums got her bag. Everyones happy.”
Margaret stormed in, drawn by the shouting.
“Whats happened now?”
“Emily sold my car!” James wailed.
“And?” Emily arched a brow. “Loans are a *family matter*, arent they?”
“That was *his* property! You had no right!” Margaret hissed.
“Did you ask me before taking a loan in my name?” Emily shot back. “Now were even.”
“This is *disgraceful*!” Margaret spat.
“Whats disgraceful is treating me like a walking wallet,” Emily said coolly.
James tried again.
“Emily, think! Were a *family*!”
“Then heres an ideasince youre the least useful member, pack your bags and move in with Mum. Let *her* pay your way. Im done.”
Emily picked up her tablet, ending the conversation. After a beat, she added,
“Oh, and Margaretgive that handbag a good stroke. You never know what it might turn into.”
Two days later, James, worn down by the tension, moved out. Margaret fumed, but Emily ignored her.
For the first time in months, she breathed easy. Theyd finally learnedshe wasnt someone to cross.
Outside, the rain still fell, but now the quiet belonged to her alone.
