Dasha Came Home Early with Treats from Her Parents, Hoping to Surprise Her Husband, but Instead of a Warm Welcome, John Sent Her Out Shopping – The Unexpected Consequences That Followed

Claire arrived home earlier than expected, armed with an impressive load of treats from her parents. Her plan was simple: surprise her husband, Oliver. Instead, not only was she denied a warm welcomeshe was dispatched off to the shop. What happened next, of course, was nothing short of British farce.

She let out a rather dramatic yelp as the weight of her carrier bag dug into her shoulder, causing her lower backher new constant companion these two monthsto throb in complaint. With a tentative sigh, Claire set her bulging bags down with a clunk on the potholed pavement of the bus stop.

She breathed deeply. The little one wriggled disapprovingly inside her bellysix months along was serious business, and not the sort of thing to be trifled with. Especially if you decide to cut your stay with your parents short by three days to surprise your beloved husband. Shed missed Oliver so dearly; shed spent the last hundred miles counting motorway signs just to distract herself.

What could Oliver possibly be up to right now? He had no inkling she was backbarely ten minutes walk from their flat. The route seemed to stretch on forever. The bags, chock-full of her mums homemade jams, dads roast ham, and apples weighing in heavier than her own head, were beginning to feel like anchors.

After about fifty feet, Claire faced facts: no way would her back survive. This valiant effort was doomed.

She tugged out her mobile and called Oliver.

Ollie, darling, hi, she whispered when he finally answered.

Claire? What? Whats happened? he stammered, all agitated.

Nothings happened, relax! Im home! Im literally outside our buildingon the bench by the lamppost. Please, come and get me. Mums gifted me enough for a small armyI cant drag it all any further

An odd pause hung on the line. Claire checked her phone to see if the connection had dropped.

Youre at the bus stop? Now? Why didnt you say anything? Werent you meant to be back Thursday?

I wanted to surprise you, Claire scowled, voice soft but sure. Arent you pleased to see me? Im absolutely done in. Come on!

Wait! he interrupteda touch too frantically. Dont come here. I mean, dobut, listen love, the place is absolutely bare; I finished everything yesterday. Why dont you nip into the 24-hour shop on the corner? Pick up some meat, decent beef. I took the day off, fancied making a proper lunch and welcoming you back properly.

Meat? Oh, Oliver, really? Are you hearing me? I am pregnant, six months, standing here with bags the size of a small hatchback!

My back is in pieces. Forget the beef! We have potatoes at home. Eggs. Just come get me, I need food and a lie down.

No, no, you dont get it he sped up, cutting her off. I want everything just right. Its only two minutes away. Just get the beef and some new potatoes. Ours have withered. Ask someone for help if you must, or make two tripsplease! Its for us! Ill have everything sorted here.

Claire stared at her red, sore palms, a lump forming in her throatoutraged, hot, and already bitter.

Oliver, are you kidding? You expect me, in this state, to drag myself to Tesco for beef, because you want to play chef?

Look, Ive alreadyumstarted prepping! If I leave, it’ll be pointless! Go on, darling, grab about 800g of beef, a bag of potatoesa small one, in a net! Hurry up, Ill be waiting!

He hung up. Claire stood there, glaring at her phone. It boggled the mind. She was to miss out on cuddles and a comfy bedall for the sacred cause of the meat aisle. Maybe hes really planning something extraordinary? she reasoned feebly. Sighing, she hauled her bags upright and limped into the shop.

She pushed the trolley through the aisles to the tune of the cashiers sympathetic gaze (the only other soul awake at dawn). The beef was beastly heavy; the potatoes, a punishment. By the time she left, she couldnt tell her own fingers from a set of crowbars.

Her phone rang again.

Did you get it? Oliver chirped.

Got it, she ground out, jaw clenched. Im outside. Open the door.

No, wait! Dont come up yet. Sit on the bench. Ten minutes, promise.

Oliver, are you actually joking? My feet are swollen, I can barely stand!

Surprise isnt ready! he insisted. If you come now, its ruined. Take a seat, get some fresh air. Five minutes, I swear! Im hanging upmust finish!

Groaning, Claire slumped on an uncomfortable bench by the front door and the bags crashed down beside her. At this point, shed have loved to lob the beef right up at their third-floor window.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. She sat, simmering, picturing an elaborate bouquet, breakfast with tea lights, maybe even a violinist. Nothing could possibly be worth making a heavily pregnant woman sit in the cold after a long journey.

At minute thirty-five, the front door creaked and out burst Oliver. He looked a right sight: t-shirt inside out, sweat on his brow, hair all over the place.

Youre still here! he beamed, grabbing the bags. Why so grumpy? Lovely weather for itoh. Right. Lets get you up.

Why are you soaked in sweat? Claire asked, struggling to stand, gripping the rail for dear life. And why do you reek of bleach?

Youll see! He bounced to the lift, almost giddy.

They went up. With flourish worthy of a soap star, Oliver swung open the door, beaming. Claire stepped insideand was greeted by a toxic cloud of chlorine and cheap Sea Breeze air freshener.

She looked around the living room, the kitchen, even the bathroom. The flat was spotless. Eerily so. Every bit of washing gone, carpet vacuumed (the damp patches still visible), dust gone, and her knick-knacks huddled theatrically in a corner.

So? Oliver shone like a minted pound coin. Well? Surprise!

Claire turned, unimpressed.

Thats it?

What do you mean, thats it? Claire, Ive been cleaning for three hours! I scrubbed the floors, even under the sofa! Washed every plate. The loos positively sparkling. I wanted you to come back to nothing to do but relax. I was flat out, sweat pouring, while you were well, at the shop.

She had to swallow a sob.

So, what, for thisfor clean floorsyou sent me out to the shop? You couldnt come to the bus stop because you were mopping?

Well, yes! Oliver threw his hands up. Youre always grumbling that I do nothing round the house. I wanted to prove myself. You came back earlythere wasnt time! I had to delay you to finish, and you youre standing there looking like Ive spat in your beans on toast.

Have you honestly lost your marbles? Claire cracked, her resolve breaking. I could not care less about your bloody floors! My back is agony, the bags were a nightmare! Im pregnant, Oliver! I needed you to take my hand and get me home, not to play Cinderella in my absence!

Oliver flushed. He tossed his cloth into the sink with a visible sulk.

Oh, here we go! he retorted. Nothing I do is good enough, is it? Ive been at it since sunup, trying my best. I wanted you to be pleased! And here you are, coming in having a go. Have you seen how clean it is? Cleaner than our wedding day!

Who cares how clean?! I had to freeze on a bench for half an hour because of you! My legs are throbbing! And the shophauling beef and spudsI barely made it here! This wasnt a surprise, it was torture!

Oh, torture, is it? Now Oliver was pacing, arms windmilling. Well, sorry Im not perfect! Anyone else would be gratefula husband cleaning and offering to cook! But not you, oh no. All about you isnt it! My back, my legs, oh boohoo! I was up all night thinking how to cheer you up!

Claire buried her face in her hands.

You dont get it she sobbed. You just dont. You chose clean skirting boards over my well-being.

Whats a skirting board got to do with it? He nearly shouted. You came back early! Thats on you! If youd stuck to Thursday, Id have finished and youd have walked in to perfection. But you just HAD to ruin the surprise, and now its all my fault! Youre just ungrateful, Claire!

He stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the bedroom door.

Inside her belly, the baby kicked. Slowly, Claire pulled herself onto a chair, staring blankly at the beef Oliver still hadnt put in the fridge. Queasiness threatened to overwhelm her.

Ten minutes later the kitchen door creaked open.

So, am I making the beef or not? he muttered. Or are you on food strike just to spite me?

Dont bother, Oliver, Claire said quietly, staring at her knees. Just leave me alone. I want to sleep.

Fine by me! he barked, and slammed the door again.

She stumbled to the bathroom, caught sight of her pale, exhausted self in the mirror: dark rings, hair everywhere. On the bus, shed imagined Oliver meeting her with a hug, a simple Thank goodness youre home. Fat chance. Hug. Right.

After shed washed her face, the row started up again, only louder, over some fresh triviality.

In the end, Claire leftjust as she was; good thing she hadnt bothered to change. She went straight back to her parents.

Everyone tried to talk her out of a divorcehis parents, her sister-in-law, even third cousins. Oliver called often, apologised, promised hed changed. But Claire had made her mind up. She was done. No husband was worth clean floors if he valued the state of the flat over the health of his unborn child. Let him marry his mop.