I Sent My Husband to Help a Friend and Regretted It

Dear Diary,

I sent Emily to Margarets for a bit of help and have been kicking myself ever since.

Never again, Im not going back to Margarets, Emily snapped, cheeks flushing. Let the council call a tradesperson if they need one.
Whats the matter? I asked, feeling the words catch. Did something go wrong?
Yes, everythings wrong, she whispered, eyes darting. Hes well, you know

Rachel, always quick with a jab, leaned in. Why didnt you bring your husband? she asked. We paid for two tickets, you know.

Emily laughed, a little too loudly. Im not on a diet, I can afford it! she said, brushing off the comment.

Helen, the senior accountant, lifted her glasses and said, I thought families would come together, not halfpresent.

Zoe, with her usual mischief, smirked, Emilys hiding her husband from us!

No, nothing of the sort, Emily retorted, a hint of cough in her voice. Hes simply ill.

Celebrating New Year early with a jug of gin? Zoe teased. A thousand pints and hed be right as rain!

Lucy shook her head, Or youll be a widow, Emily.

And wed all be left scrambling for a new partner! Zoe added, waving her hand as if dismissing a fly.

Maybe you dont have a husband at all? Zoe pressed, eyes glittering. Perhaps the ring on your finger is just for show? Well find you a proper bloke, call the council, and youll be sorted.

Emilys reply was flat. I do have a husband.

Lucy nodded, She even brought me a marriage certificate from HR. George Hartley, if memory serves.

Zoe, still suspicious, asked, Arent you keeping him locked away from us?

Two months ago we had that teambuilding retreat, and all I could think of was my son. Now we have a corporate party, and Im standing there alone, while my wife stays in a corner, unnoticed. No one picks her up, no one waves her goodbye.

Its just work, I said tersely.

Helen waved her hands, Fine, lets drop it. She has a husband, shes happy. No ones asking for more.

Shed been the chief accountant and the power behind the partys organization. Our boss had promised a night out, but as usual hed slipped away to his own vices, arriving late and already halfdrunk when the second toast went up. He even tried to dance, stumbling over his own feet.

Veronica, who works beside Emily, mused, I think Emilys hiding her husband. We spend all day together, yet Ive never seen George at home. Im willing to swear hes been there at least twice.

Emily retorted, Hes either in the bathroom or on the balcony. He never meddles in my affairs.

Her voice trembled, and everyone at the table sensed a hidden tension.

Natasha, the HR lead, called her out, Lying isnt pretty, Emily.

I heard a gasp, Why did you bring him here?

Emily raised her voice, Hes not yours to question!

The past of Emily and I began far away, in a small market town two thousand miles from here. All the milestones of my lifeour first meeting after my apprenticeship, the early days when I was a few years older and higher on the seniority liststill belong to that old life. The new life here is calm, quiet, and steady, but the lessons were learned back there.

I first met Emily at the factory where Id started after college. I was a bit older, a senior pipefit, and she was a fresh recruit. Our flirtation turned into a solid marriage, much to the chagrin of the mostly female workforce. Men were scarce, and every bloke in the engineering department was a hot commodity. I was the centre of many a whispered conversation, the object of countless winks from not only the office but the workshop floor.

When we married, the women suddenly turned on Emily, accusing her of stealing a prime candidate. They couldnt accept that Id chosen her over the longstanding admirers whod been eyeing me for years. Their jokes were thinly veiled: Does Emily cook? Does she clean? Can she keep the house in order? It was all goodnatured on the surface, but the sting was real.

Our sons birth only intensified the rivalry. The same women whod once coveted me now wanted me back, whispering that I should be free again. Their intentions stayed hidden, but their eyes were never far from us.

Emily climbed the ranks quickly. By the time our child was born shed become a forewoman, then a master craftsman, and later deputy supervisor. Both friendship and resentment lodged themselves in the office, a potent mix that some hoped would eventually pry us apart.

Megan, another forewoman, tried hard to befriend Emily, perhaps hoping to gain an ally. Emily, ever straightforward, kept the friendship honest and open, offering help when she couldmoney, advice, even sending me out for minor repairs at Megans house.

One day I returned from Megans place after fixing some sockets, visibly shaken. I wont go back to Megans, I muttered. Let the council send a tradesperson instead!

Emily looked puzzled. What happened?

Its all wrong, I said, cheeks reddening. She she pressed me, she grabbed at me, I barely got away.

She laughed, incredulous. Youre joking, George?

I swore on my sons health, I was in my work coat when she came at me. I ducked, she lunged like a cat, and I ended up with a bruise on my shoulder.

Rumours spread like wildfire. By the next day the whole floor whispered that Megan and I had spent an unforgettable evening together, and Megan even flaunted a torn piece of my shirt as proof. I was called into the office bathroom, where I was warned: If you keep spreading false stories about Megan, there will be consequences.

The next corporate party was a disaster. Everyone had brought partners, the hall was packed, and the music roared. I stepped away for a quick bathroom break, but when I returned my husband was nowhere to be found. I searched the dim corridors, the cramped rooms, the tables turned upside down. Finally I found a group of three womenMegan and two of her friendscornered around George, who was clearly not in his right mind, slurring and barely responsive.

I lunged at them, pulling at hair and tearing at clothing. The scene turned chaotic; I shoved the trio out of the room. George stumbled out, eyes glazed, mumbling nonsense. I caught a glimpse of a camera on a tripod, and the pieces fell into place. The three women had recorded the entire debacle.

After the party, Emily and I submitted our resignation letters. Revenge felt cheap, and the cold logic of the holidays left us with nothing but a quiet exit. The worst part was that both Megan and the two women from the planning department were friends of Emily.

Never have close friends at work, Emily concluded, shaking her head.

We discussed it over a latenight tea, and decided that no one would ever meet my colleagues again. If they dont know about us, they cant meddle, George said. And if they visit, Ill either hide or stay away.

Thus, in our new town with new faces, we kept our private life sealed off from the office. No one knew about my son, my wife, or our home. It worked, and the gossip died.

Looking back, I realise that trying to protect a marriage from nosy coworkers only pushes the walls tighter around you. The very act of secrecy breeds suspicion, and suspicion fuels more gossip. The lesson I take from all this is simple: honesty, even when uncomfortable, is the only shield strong enough to keep both your heart and your reputation intact.

George.