I Was Doing the Dishes When My Husband Burst In Shouting. His Mother Again. More Distrust. Enough Is Enough.

I was elbow-deep in the washing up when my husband stormed in, bellowing. Once againhis mother, her endless suspicion. Had I finally had enough?

Why did you tell my mum about the money?!

Susan Green was just scrubbing the last plate at the sink when her husband barged into the kitchen. Barged didnt even do it justicehe practically burst in: face beetroot-red, fists balled like he was about to dramatically challenge the cutlery basket to a duel. Susan was so startled, she dropped the plate right back into the bubbles with a splash.

What? Johnny, whats going on?

Dont what me! Explain what THIS is about!

Johnny stopped in the middle of the kitchen. His shirt was crumpled, despite Susan valiantly ironing it that very morning. Always the same with himif he got wound up, suddenly he was all sharp corners and hopping from foot to foot.

Ive just spoken to Mum. She says, Johnny, your wifes transferred the money youd saved for the car somewhere. Whats all this?! Are you going to explain or what?

Susan calmly turned off the tap. Her hands, gloved in cheerful yellow Marigolds, peeled off one at a time, laid carefully by the sink. Her heart was now thumping somewhere in the vicinity of her tonsils.

Johnny, hang on. What money? Whats this about?

Dont play innocent! Mum said you took a large sum out. Where did the money come from and wheres it gone?

Which account?

Our joint account! The card!

Johnny. Please, calm down and listen

I am calm!

He barked this so fiercely that the plates drying beside him nearly clattered their way to freedom. Susan looked at himred-faced, eyes all weird and fixed. She knew that look. It was rare, but she loathed it.

I havent taken a penny out of our account. Thats the first point.

Then what on earth was Mum talking about?

Susan leant against the sink. Out the window, it was a sunny, unremarkable Sunday. Shed been thinking about paint samples and whether she should finally move the cabinet near the window. Now this.

Johnny, I think your mums got the wrong end of the stick.

My mum doesnt get confused!

Everyone gets confused, Johnny.

Dont have a go at her! She was talking about the statement. She saw the numbers!

What statement? Did you show her our bank statement?!

She regretted saying that instantly. That topic was radioactive; Johnny always said it was only natural for his mum to know absolutely everything.

I didnt show her. She rang, I sort of…mentioned a few things.

Our few things, right.

Susan, stop changing the subject! Why are your transfers showing up on my dads phone?

Thats when she realised what this was actually about. Susan sighed, walked over, sat at the kitchen table.

Please, Johnny. Sit down. Lets talk like grown-ups.

Ill stand.

As you like. Johnny, listen. Dad bought a used car last monthyou know this.

What car?

Oh, Johnny. I told you. Dad wanted a second-hand Ford Fiesta for getting to the allotment. Hes on his own, the bus only runs every other day, sometimes not at all. He desperately needed transport.

So what?

Dad can barely turn on a computer, let alone do online banking. He refuses to use cards, terrified hell fall for a scam. But the seller only takes transfers. So Dad gave me cash, I put it in my account and did the transfer. Thats it. Mystery solved.

Johnny didnt respond.

They were his savings, Johnny. Not ours. He handed me cash, I put it through and paid the bloke for the car. I didn’t touch a penny of our money.

Why didnt you tell me?

Because it was Dads business. Do I need to run every errand for my father by you?

You should tell me if other peoples money is going through our account!

Not other peoplemy father.

Its still not on! Am I your husband or what?! Who am I here?

The who am I hung between them, heavy as your mothers old fudge cake. She stared at him, long and hard. He was no longer quite so flushed, but definitely still riled. And suddenly, she realised how tired she was. Not from this argument in particularjust… tired.

Youre my husband, Johnny. But youve just barged in and accused medidnt ask, just decided Id done something wrong because your mum said so. Now Im standing here, justifying myself.

I wasnt accusing.

Johnny.

Well…maybe I raised my voice a bit…

You were shouting.

He fell silent. Looked awayat the fridge, where their old holiday snap was chipped at the corners. Both were younger, laughing. He glanced out the window.

Fine. Maybe a bit.

A bit, she echoed, not sarcastically, just quietly.

Sue, youve got to understandMum rang and got me all in a lather…

What exactly did she say?

Well, that youd moved all this money somewhere. Big sums.

Does she even know how much Dads car cost?

How should I know?

I dont know either. But she seems to, and shes told you all about it. And you came running.

I didnt come running! I came to find out what was going on.

Susan stood, went to the window. Outside, the birch trees were just greening up, the air probably crisp. Next doors tabby cat watched something intensely on the fence.

Look, Johnny, I need to say this, and please dont take offence.

Go on.

I dont like how your mother knows more about our finances than I do. I get that you trust hershes your mum. But we have our own life. The fact she rings and makes up stories about my transfersits not normal, Johnny.

You just dont like her.

Its got nothing to do with that.

Its exactly that! Everythings Mums fault with you.

Susan closed her eyes for a moment, exhaled.

Three years ago, your mum rang you and said I was spending far too much on groceries. Do you remember?

There was some

She took your receipts, did the maths, told you I was buying extras. Thats when you said to me: Sue, could we cut down a bit at the supermarket? Remember?

Mum just wanted to help…

She wanted to know, Johnny. Thats what mattered.

Youre unfair to her.

Alright. More recentlylast year. I stayed late at work on month-end. Came back at half past nine. Your mother called, asked who I was out withso you asked: Sue, are you sure you were working late? For the first time ever.

I was just checking

Because you trusted me, then your mum implied something andyou see the pattern?

Well, Sue…

And then there was the time your mum saw me walking home with Michael Frobisher, carrying my shopping because I was all hands and elbows. Our neighbour for fifteen years! Do you remember what she said?

Johnny was silent.

She told you I was with some manmade a big deal of man. You barely spoke to me for three days. For carrying groceries with the neighbour.

I didnt think

You did. You just didnt say it out loud.

He looked at her, something shifting in his eyesnot anger, more like being thoroughly lost. Mouth open, then closed again.

Sue

I dont want a row, Johnny. I really dont. But this isnt the first or second time this has happened. Every time, you listen to her and come at me. No questions. Just assumptions.

She means well.

Maybe. But the end results always the same: you look at me suspiciously, and I explain myself like an estate agent desperate to shift a haunted house. Im exhausted, Johnny. Honestly.

What do you want from me? Not to talk to Mum?

No. I want you to talk to me first.

She said it simply, with that firmness unique to people whove had enough, leaving it to rest heavy on the linoleum.

Johnny stood, looked at the floor, at her, back to the floor.

I just didnt know about your dad

You couldve asked. Just come in and ask: Sue, Mum said thiswhats really happened? Thats it. One question.

Well…

But you barged in shouting. As if Id already been found guilty.

He said nothing. The kitchen was quiet, only the fridge buzzing innocently along. Sunlight made mellow stripes on the floor, oblivious to the drama.

Susan watched her husbandthe Johnny shed been with nearly twenty-six years. Theyd raised a son, buried a dad, endured flat packs, lean years, chest infections, all sorts. She knew him inside outhow he breathed at night, drank his tea in both hands, his goodness and dependabilityand that he loved her. She knew all that.

And yethere they were.

Please leave the kitchen, Johnny.

He flinched.

What?

I need you to leave. I need a minute alone.

Sue, look

Please.

He hesitated a moment longer, then left. No slamming, just a soft click. She heard him walk down the hall and the lounge door creak open.

Susan turned back to the sink. Picked up the plate, started scrubbing. Her hands moved by themselves as she stared out of the window, thinking she really ought to ring her old mate, Kate Brown, from college, who always listened without launching into a TED talk in response.

Or not call at all. Just grab her bag and go. Get some air. Because sitting here, in this kitchen with its humming fridge and sunshine that didnt give a fig about her, she couldnt manage another minute.

—

She packed slowly. Her hands were sluggish and clumsy. Opened the wardrobe, stared into it, chose a jumper. Put it in her bag, changed her mind, found the grey one Kate always complimented. Remembered her phone charger was still in the kitchen.

It was awkward going back in. Not because Johnny was thereshe heard the faint sounds of a failed attempt at watching, then switching off, the telly. More from the prospect of having to say something, or nothingboth equally effortful.

She snatched the charger, turned to leave.

Where are you going? Johnny called from the lounge doorway.

To Kates.

Why?

I need to.

Sue, hold on. Youre upset

Yes, I am. Spot on.

Lets talk?

We just did. For half an hour. I explained everything.

I mean really talk.

She looked at him, bag in hand, coat still hung over her arm.

Now you want a proper chat? After charging in and yelling?

I wasnt yelling!

Johnny.

He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose.

Alright, maybeI meanSue, please, dont go. Like children, honestly

Children? She gave a humourless smile. Remember our Sam, when we told him off? Hed lock himself in the bathroom for two hours. Thats childhood for you.

Sams different.

Of course it is. Johnny, Ill be back later. I just need to breathe for a bit.

So whatmoodily do a runner, leave me to fret here?

Look, watch telly if you like. Dont feel obliged to fret.

Sue!

She zipped her coat. Braced herself against the draft in the hall.

You dont trust me, Johnny. Thats what stings. After twenty-six years, you still dont. Not the shoutingthats forgettable. This, though

He stayed silent.

Ill be back later. Or tomorrow morning. I dont know yet.

She gripped the door handle. He stood there, awkward and lostgrey now at the temples, still a big frame, not knowing what to do with his hands.

Sue, he said, very quietly. Sue.

She left.

—

The door closed behind her. Johnny lingered in the hall, then wandered to the lounge, sank into the sofa, stood back up. Sat again.

His phone lay on the coffee table. There were two unread messages from his mum: Well? Spoken? and Johnny, answer me!

He picked up the phone, just held it for a while. Then, almost on autopilot, he got up, wandered into the kitchen, stopped at the window. The birches were swaying a little, sunny as evera perfect day for most people. In the garden, next doors yappy terrier was gambolling about like an animated mop.

He dialled another number.

Mr Palmer? Its Johnny. Afternoon.

Oh, Johnny! His father-in-laws voice was hearty and surprised. Well, fancy that! Everything alright?

I just wanted to check something. Did you buy a car last week?

Bought it, yes! Second-hand job, marvellous deal. Proper chap, no nonsense. Im like a lord, with my own wheels now. Susan sorted out the payment for meyou know Im hopeless with all this banking gubbins.

Johnny was silent.

Johnny? You there? You gone all Boris on meno signal?

No, still here. Mr Palmer, so the moneyyour own savings?

Of course! Who elses? I gave Susan cash, she did the online bit, jobs a goodun. Shes a gem, your Susan. You must pop by! Made some apple turnovers, dont tell Susanshell nag about the sugar. Ha!

Ill pop round. Thanks, Mr Palmer.

No problem, Johnny. Dont be a stranger.

Johnny ended the call, placed the phone down, paused with his hand on the table, then slowly sank into a chair, rubbing his face.

Utter idiot.

Thats what he was. Mum called, spun a yarn, and hed pelted straight over to shout at his wifewhod done nothing but help her own dad out of a jam. Its what she did for everyone. And hedid this.

He sat, picturing Susan standing at the sink in those silly yellow gloves, calmly peeling them off, her voice steady if brittle. Her eyes, thoughhe understood now, finally. She wasnt angry. She was simply exhausted.

And everything shed said was truethe receipts, the giving her the cold shoulder for days. Stupid, all because of little whispers from Mum about Michael Frobisher and no smoke without fire. And hed believed it, let it fester, left Susan quietly getting on with life as if nothing had happened, realising even without him saying so.

He hesitated, picked up his phone again. Dialled his mum.

Johnny! Finally! Did you speak to Susan? Did she explain?

Yes, Mum. She did.

So?

Mum, it was her dad buying a car. His money. Ive just spoken to Mr Palmer. All fine.

There was a pause.

Well, his mum snapped, a little sulky. It doesnt change anything. You should have knownother peoples money going through your account!

Mum.

No, wait. I only worry about you. What if she?

Mum, stop. He even surprised himself, he sounded so firm. Hear me out, just this once.

Go on then.

You were out of order. You phoned me, spun a whole story without checking. So I came home and shouted at Susan. Now shes left, because I acted like a pillock.

Johnny, thats not

MumSeriously. This isnt the first time. You ring me and say something about Susan, and every time I end up arguing with her. Only for it to turn out you were wrong. I cant live like this. I need to live with Susan. Do you understand?

I only want whats best for you.

I know, Mum. I love you. But enough is enough. If you think you see something, call and say: Check with Susan. Dont jump to conclusions, dont spin it, just check.

So, youre choosing her over me now?

Mum, its not about sides. Its about usme and Susan. Thats how it should be.

She was quiet for a while. He could hear her breathing down the line.

Thats all I wanted to say, he finished softly. I love you. Speak soon.

He didnt wait for her to respond, ended the call. Stared at the silent phone.

She might ring back, or not, today. Shed sulk; she was an absolute Olympic-level sulker. But hed say the same thing again. Maybe he shouldve years ago. That was on him as well.

He called Susan.

Rings, then voicemail.

Johnny set the phone aside, wandered to the window. The birches were still, the wind had disappeared, the new leaves light against the blue sky.

He stood there, thinking, then fetched his coat.

—

Kate Brown opened her front door, eyes briefly startledthen, catching one look at Susans face, understood immediately.

Come in, she said simply. Ill put the kettle on.

There was something about Kates kitchendoilies, chintzy curtains, her ancient cat Thomas snoozing on the sill, that soft, homey whiff of vanilla biscuits. Susan drank her tea in silence. Kate knew not to force it, just waited.

Im so tired, Kate, Susan admitted at last.

I can tell.

Its not just this rowits not the row at all, really. Rows go away. This is something else.

What is it?

Susan cradled her mug, warming her hands.

He doesnt trust me. Twenty-six years, and his mum says something, and suddenly Im the criminal.

He does trust you, love, Kate offered gently. His mums a meddleryou know what Shirley Greens like.

I do. But its his choice, Kate. Every time. Run to her or check with me. He always chooses her.

Silence.

Im not asking him to cut her off, Susan went on. That would be cruel. Visit her, love her, help herfine by me. I just want a bit of boundaries. I want to be the first to know about our business, not the afterthought to his accusations.

Did you tell him that?

I did.

And?

I left.

Kate sighed, topping up her mug.

Maybe thats what he needs. Bit of thinking time.

Kate, Im scared.

What of?

Susan hesitated.

That hell just say yes, sorry, youre right, and next timenothing changes. That this is justforever.

They can change, Susan. People, I mean.

Slowly. Susan gazed out the window. Or not at all. How do you know?

Kate stayed silent. She didnt have an answer and Susan knew itsome questions just dangle, stubbornly unanswered.

Thomas the cat rolled over. A car purred past outside.

Right, Susan said, putting her mug down. Id better go.

Home?

Home. No point hiding here. Things to do.

He called?

Susan checked her phoneone missed call, Johnny.

He did.

There you go.

It doesnt mean anything, said Susan, but stood anyway, pulling on her coat.

—

She rode the tram, watching the city glide by. The place was all spring, grubby round the edges but pulsing with life. People with shopping bags, kids on bikes, an old man feeding pigeons.

She thought of her dad. Shed visit him next weeknow he had his car, he was king of the castle. Just hoped the car held up.

She thought of Sam, their son, in a city up north, not much for phoning, but whenever he did, it lit her up. Hed turned out decent, found himself a good partnermaybe a grandchild soon, if the stars aligned.

She thought of paint samples. Pale yellow or beige? Beige was warmer, maybe.

Her stop came up. She hopped off.

—

The front door was unlocked.

Susan hovered in the doorway. OddJohnny always locked up. She let herself in, shrugged off her coat.

Johnny?

In here, came his voice, soft, from the lounge.

She stepped in. He was sat on the sofa, not watching telly, just staring at his knees. Two mugs sat on the coffee table. Coffee or teahard to tell.

He looked up.

Youre back, he said.

I am.

She hung back in the doorway. He stood, then didnt know what to do with himself, sat, stood, then sat again.

Sue, I rang your dad.

I know. He messaged me.

Hes a smashing bloke.

Yes.

He offered me a turnover.

Typical.

That delicate, stretched silence returned. She walked over, sat at the far end of the sofa. Reached for the mug: coffee.

Did you call your mum? she asked.

He hesitated.

I did.

And?

I told her that she cant do this to us anymore. That wed handle things ourselves.

Susan surveyed him.

Really?

Really. She was put out, obviously. Bit frosty. You know how she gets.

I do.

Itll pass, he added, not quite believing it himself. Should have said something ages ago.

Susan cupped the mug, looking at him. He was slumped, vulnerable, but he was there. Not running, not hidingjust sitting beside her.

Im sorry, Sue, he said. I was an idiot. Should have just askedyou know what Im like when Mum rings, I lose all sense.

Idiot, yeah.

I know. He paused. You mentioned redecorating this morning. Paint. Do you still want to?

Johnny

No, seriously. Whatever colour you want. And we could go away for a week, seaside or whereveryouve always fancied that.

Johnny, I dont need a holiday.

I know its not about that, he sighed. Its justmy brains turned to mush. Thats all I can come up with.

Susan put down her mug.

I dont need treats. I just need you to trust me, Johnny. Its not hard.

I do trust you.

Today you believed your mum.

He was quiet.

Today I was wrong.

One mistake isnt the end. But this comes up every time and Im worried its not the last.

It wont come up again.

Lets not make promises. Lets make a deal.

He looked at her sidelong.

What sort of deal?

She half turned towards him.

Next time your mum rings and says something about me, promise youll come to me and askjust, Sue, is this true?and Ill tell you. Thats it. Can you do that?

He paused, thinking carefully, then: Yes. I can.

So we have a deal?

Deal.

They sat there, a small wedge of space between themtwenty centimetres, perhaps less. Not touching, but not edging away either.

Evening slipped in behind the curtains; the birches stood motionless now against the dusk.

She wont let it go, you know, Susan murmured to the shadows. Shirley. Shell sulk for a month, then ring again.

I know.

And every time, itll be the same?

I suppose so.

Whatll you do?

He didnt answer at once, rolling the question round in his heada rarity she always valued.

Im not sure, he said honestly. Shes my mum, I love her. But youre right; she oversteps. I suppose Ill have to sit down with her. Proper chat. Not just on the phone.

Shell cry, said Susan flatly.

She will, he nodded. But that doesnt make me wrong.

Susan looked away. Then looked back.

You know this wont be solved overnight.

I do.

You know shell be miffed, and Ill still be the villain?

Let her. Im living with younot her. You and me, Sue. Thats what matters.

She nodded.

The coffee was stone cold now. She drank it anyway; right now, it hardly mattered.

Paint, she muttered.

What?

Beige. Maybe pale yellow I cant decide.

He glanced at her. Smiled, just a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Both are nice.

Well need to go to B&Q, get some testers.

Well go, he agreed. Whenever you fancy.

She nodded again. Put her mug down. They sat, surrounded by a gentle hush. Life wasnt all joy, nor was it endless sorrow. There was this: exhaustion, mishandled words, little bruises and bigger ones. But still next to each other. Still together.

Johnny, she said.

Yes?

Pour me another coffeeone thats actually hot.

Silently, he got up, took her mug, headed to the kitchen. She listened to him bustling about, the kettle boiling, coffee brewing.

She looked out the window, thinking about how life is just like this: a muddle of weary bits and kind ones, little daily tests, and yet they were togethereven still.

He returned, two mugs steaming. Sat close, handed her one.

Cheers, she said.

My pleasure.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Then Johnny, a little hesitantly, placed his hand over hers.

Sueabout our deal. You said to just come and ask. Just straight up?

Just straight up.

And youll answer?

I will.

He nodded.

Its not hard, he said, testing the words aloud.

No, she agreed, It really isnt.

A car swept past below, headlights flickering. The coffee was hot and rich. Tomorrow, shed ring her dad, check the car was behaving.

And the paint samplestheyd go see about those on Sunday.