I’ll Do Everything for You

Victoria Vicky had finally had enough. She couldnt fathom why Daniel was suddenly treating her like a strangerhad he fallen out of love? The night before, hed sauntered in late, collapsed on the sofa and gone to sleep there.

The next morning, as Daniel drifted off to the kitchen for breakfast, Vicky plonked herself opposite him.

Daniel, could you tell me whats going on? she asked.

Whats wrong with you? he replied, sipping his coffee and avoiding her gaze.

Ever since the boys were born youve changed completely, Vicky pressed.

I havent noticed, Daniel muttered.

Weve been living as neighbours for two years now. Do you even realise that? she continued.

Listen, what did you expect? The flat is littered with toys, it smells of mushy porridge, the kids are screaming you really think anyone enjoys that? he snapped.

But theyre your children! Vicky snapped back, hopping up and pacing the kitchen.

Normal wives have one wellbehaved child, quietly playing in the corner so they dont bother anyone. You have two! My mother warned me and I didnt listenpeople like you just keep producing offspring! Daniel barked.

People like me? What does that even mean? Vicky asked, exasperated.

People without a purpose in life, he sneered.

And you forced me to quit university because you wanted me to devote myself entirely to the family! Vicky said, sitting down. After a pause she added, I think we need a divorce.

Daniel thought for a moment. Fine by me. Just dont bother me with maintenance paymentsIll give you the money myself.

He turned on his heel and left the kitchen. Vicky wanted to sob, but the nursery erupted with the twins cries. The boys had woken and demanded attention.

A week later she packed her things, gathered the twins, and moved into a spare bedroom in a council block that her late grandmother had left her. The building had new tenants, so Vicky decided to introduce herself.

On one side lived a surly, middleaged man, and opposite him a sprightly lady in her sixties named Margaret Hughes. Vicky first knocked on the mans door.

Good morning! Im your new neighbour, thought Id bring a cake and some tea. Come over, wont you? she chirped.

The man gave her a onceover, grunted, I dont do sweets, and slammed the door in her face.

Undeterred, Vicky trotted over to Margaret. The older woman accepted the invitation, but only to deliver a speech.

So, Margaret began, I love spending my afternoons watching soaps, hoping your little terrors dont keep me up with their screaming. And please, keep them off the hallwayno touching, no mess, no broken things! She went on at length, while Vicky sighed that life here was shaping up to be far from sweet.

Vicky enrolled the boys in a local nursery and took a job there as a nanny. It was handy; she could look after Andrew and James right up until they were due home. The pay was barely enoughpennies, reallybut Daniel had promised to help.

During the first three months of the divorce, Daniel did toss them a few quid now and then. After that, the money stopped. Two months later Vicky still hadnt paid the council bill.

Her relationship with Margaret grew thornier each day. One evening, while Vicky was feeding the twins, a neighbour in an emerald robe breezed in.

Sweetie, have you sorted your finances? Id hate to see the lights or gas cut off because of you.

Vicky sighed. Not yet. Im heading to Daniel tomorrow; hes completely forgotten the kids.

Margaret swooped in. Youre feeding them nothing but pasta youre a terrible mother!

Im a good mother! And youd do well to mind your own business, or youll get a good kick in the ears! Margaret shrieked, loud enough to make the walls tremble. Ian, the surly neighbour from the opposite flat, heard the ruckus, paused to listen, then slipped back into his flat. A minute later he returned, tossed a few pounds onto the table and said, Shut up. Heres your council money.

The woman fell silent, but as Ian slipped away she hissed, Youll regret this!

Vicky brushed it offuntil the next day when she confronted Daniel.

Im in a tight spot, Daniel. I need money for the kids, she pleaded.

Its a rough patch for me. I cant pay you, he replied.

Youre kidding, right? I have to feed them.

Im not forbidding you. Just dont bother me, he snorted.

Vicky trudged home, tears in her eyes. Payroll was a week away and her bank account looked barren. Then, as she opened the front door, a police constable appeared. Margaret had lodged a complaint alleging Vicky threatened her life and that the children were starving and unsupervised.

The constable spent an hour lecturing Vicky, then warned, I have to inform social services.

What are you going to tell them? Ive done nothing wrong, Vicky protested.

He shrugged. Its procedure. Theres a signal, we have to act on it.

That evening Margaret returned, eyes flashing. If your kids bother me again, Ill go straight to social services.

The children are just thatchildren! They cant stay still all day! Vicky snapped.

Feed them properly and theyll actually want to sleep instead of running around! Margaret retorted, storming out.

The twins stared, frightened. Vicky tried to comfort them, Come on, darlings, Mums just joking, shes really nice. She turned to wipe a tear, unaware that Ian had slipped back in with a massive bag of groceries. He opened the fridge, shoving food inside without a word.

Oi, Ian, youve got the wrong fridge, Vicky said, still wiping her face.

He didnt look up, just piled in the supplies and left as silently as hed entered.

After the next payday, Vicky knocked on Ians door. He opened, still looking grim.

I owe you for the food, she said, holding out two hundred pounds. Tell me how much you need.

Dont bother, he grunted, shutting the door before she could speak.

Just then Margarets shrieks rose from the kitchen. Vicky rushed in to find the twins standing still while Margaret pointed at a spilled tea puddle, shouting, Bums! Brats! What will become of you if youre raised like this?

Vicky ushered the boys to their room, mopped up the mess, and sat on the bed beside them.

Dont be sad, chaps. Well manage. Ill think of something and well get out of here, she whispered. The twins clung to her, arms wrapped around her waist.

A week later, two strangersa constable and a middleaged manknocked at her door. Vicky opened it to find Margaret and the man standing there.

Victoria Sergeevna? the constable asked.

Yes, Vicky replied, bewildered.

Were from childrens services. May we come in? he said.

The women entered, peered into the bedroom, lifted the blanket, and glanced at the fridge.

Gather your children, they instructed.

What? Youre insane! I wont hand them over! Vicky shouted.

Andrew and James clutched her, sobbing, not understanding what was happening. The constable grabbed the boys, the officers snatched them up the stairs, their cries echoing down the hallway. The constable held Vicky until the screams faded and a van pulled away. He finally released her, and she collapsed onto the floor, howling like a wounded animal. In five minutes the flat was empty except for her.

She looked around, spotting an old axe left behind from when the building still had coal heating. She lifted it, feeling its weight, a grim smile curling on her lips. She headed for Margarets door, ready to smash itwhen a hand yanked the axe away.

Idiot, what are you doing? Youre making things worse! Ian snarled, seizing her.

I dont care anymore, Vicky muttered.

Ian dragged her to a sofa, handed her a tablet, and she swallowed a sleeping pill without a second thought. She hoped that as soon as he turned his back, shed make a run for the bridge. The pill hit fast; her vision blurred and she slipped into unconsciousness.

Ian left, heading back to Margaret, who was slumped at the kitchen table nursing a bottle of herbal tea.

Satisfied? he asked.

Oh, Ian I never thought it would end up like this, she sighed.

Youll sort the papers tomorrow, then. Pray it all works out, otherwise youre on your own.

For a month Vicky chased after certificates, medical reports, and endless forms, wondering if any of it mattered. Ian, ever the grim, never left her alone, constantly nudging her forward. When it finally seemed the children might be returned, Vicky snapped awake.

Ian this is all because of you she said.

He gave a rare, sad smile. I had children once, too. Theyre gone now, five years gone. Maybe I can help you.

The night before the hearing, Vicky slept on Ians sofa, unable to drift off. Ian, halfasleep, asked, Cant sleep? What happened to your kids?

He spoke in a flat tone, recounting his own lost family: a wife, two boys, years of drinking, prison, and a house that burned down. Hed sold his flat to pay the damages, then returned to the factory work he used to do.

Vicky leaned in, took his hand, but he pulled away. Sleep. Tomorrow you need to be as cool as a cucumber for the panel.

The hearing came. The social worker, a stern woman with a clipboard, handed Vicky a stack of documents.

Make sure you keep your life in order, so this never happens again, she said.

Vicky stared at the papers, bewildered. The woman smiled oddly and said, Well then, you may collect your children now.

Her legs gave way. Ian steadied her as they stood in the waiting room.

Mom! Mum! the twins wailed, clinging to her.

Alright, thats enough crying. Lets get home, Ian muttered, wiping a tear from his eye.

Life slowly fell back into a sort of normal. Margaret never left her flat again. With Ians help Vicky landed a job as a maintenance technician at the same factory, earning enough to keep the lights onnothing fancy, but enough for toast and tea. She did worry about Ians perpetual gloom. One day she knocked over his coat, a phone slipped out and lit up with her own photo as the lock screen. She laughed, picked it up, and went to his room where he lay staring at the ceiling.

Ian, Ive always been scared to say too much. So many things I never got to tell the people around me, she began. The worst part is regretting words left unsaid.

What about? he asked.

Maybe I should try. Im terrified youll laugh, but will you marry me? she blurted.

Ian stared, then cradled her cheek, answering, Im not great with poetry, but know thisIll do anything for you and the boys.

A few weeks later, their neighbour Katya, a catobsessed pensioner, launched into a tirade outside Vickys window about a stray cat named Pussy. Katya, who worked cleaning shifts at the local hospital, was juggling a horde of felinessome rescued, some abandonedwhile trying to keep her flat tidy. Shed even started a neighborhood catwatch, complete with daily feedings and frantic meows.

One morning Katya sprinted to the supermarket, basket halffull of cat food, forgetting her own milk and loaf of bread. She returned, only to find a lone, emaciated cat shivering on the doorstep, ignored by the rest of the flock. She shouted, Pussy, come here, eat! while the other cats hissed and scattered.

The chaos continued: cats perched on windowsills, leapt onto kitchen counters, and even tried to crawl under Vickys door. Their nocturnal choir kept the whole block awake. Vicky, fed up, considered confronting Katya, but realised the old ladys only companion was those animals, and her husband had died years ago.

Eventually, the buildings caretaker, a jovial man named Colin, stepped in with a mop and a grin, promising to keep the hallway clean despite the feline invasions. He even offered to mop up the occasional catinduced mess.

Through all the dramadivorce papers, council bills, angry neighbours, and a rogue axeVicky learned that life in a council flat was a mashup of sitcom and soap opera. Yet with a bit of grit, a dash of humor, and a few loyal mates, she managed to keep the roof over her head, the kettle boiling, and the twins smiling, even if the world outside kept throwing the odd cat or cranky neighbour her way.