“I warned you—go have dinner (and even breakfast) wherever you hid the money!” declared his wife, settling into her knitting armchair.

Victor! Are you home? called his wife, stepping into the flat.

In the kitchen, replied Imogen.

Shed gotten in early that day and was already tinkering with tonights dinner.

Victor stripped off his coat, washed his hands and drifted into the kitchen.

Why arent you bragging? he asked.

Oh really? What on earth would I be bragging about? Imogen feigned surprise.

I ran into Rita from your department on the way back. She told me youve been paid a quarterly bonus. Nice one.

They did, didnt they? And what does that matter to you?

What does it matter? I told you yesterday: Mum rang, asking Zoe to help with the mortgage. You said we were flat broke. Well, were not any more. Lets slip Zoe ten quid, Victor suggested.

For what exactly? Imogen asked, eyebrows twitching.

Come on, you know Zoes struggling to keep the mortgage on her own. Ill call mum now and tell her well send the cash, Victor said, fumbling for his phone.

Hold on! I never said Id cover the mortgage for your sister! Imogen cut him off.

Why not help if we actually have money? he persisted.

First of all, the money isnt ours, its mine. Its my bonus, earned by slogging away for three months!

Do you think Ive been ploughing from sunrise to sunset just so we can do a favour for your sister? No other motive?

Darling, she has kids!

Victor, I have a child too. Emily is our daughter, remember? Shes in her second year at university, living in a hall of residence in another city.

Im already sending her a monthly allowance. Have you ever given your own daughter a single penny in the last two years?

I know you do.

But wouldnt it be nice if dad tossed her a thousand pounds for a new pair of tights? Imogen teased. And before your sister started dreaming about mortgages she shouldve checked whether she could actually afford one.

The bank gave her the goahead, Victor reminded her.

Exactly. Banks employ clever people who can do maths. Theyve figured Zoe has enough to cover it. If she runs short, its because she spends it the wrong way.

Like splurging on salons and cafés instead of chipping away at the loan. Im not footing any of her whims!

That evening Victor overheard Imogen on the phone, telling her mother shed just transferred eight thousand pounds.

How convenient: youve got nothing for Zoe, but a tidy sum for mum, Victor muttered, indignant.

Yes, Victor. Mums denture broke, she needs a dentist and her pension isnt exactly booming. Besides, shes my mum, while Zoe is well, a stranger, Imogen explained.

Actually Zoe is my sister! Victor reminded her.

Right, your sister, not mine. Any complaints?

If thats the case, Ill get my next paycheck in two days and send Zoe the money myself, Victor offered.

Oh, please. First, as always, slip ten thousand onto the household account, Imogen replied.

Love, Ive been meaning to ask: isnt ten thousand a bit much? Cant we do less?

We could do less, but then dinner would be noodles with ketchup instead of a proper roast with homemade meatballs. We could skip the utility bill and even forgo buying laundry powder, Imogen smirked.

Isnt there a more frugal way to keep the house running so we can still afford the roast and everything else?

If you think you can manage it, give it a go. If you succeed, Ill take notes, she said.

And that was that. Yet Victor, convinced Imogen would keep her word, wired almost his entire salary to his sister.

He was wrong. The next morning, after work, he walked into the flat to find not a single sign of dinner.

Imogen, whats on the menu tonight? he asked.

Check the fridge, she replied.

Victor opened the fridge: it was empty except for a solitary ketchup bottle perched on the door and two wrinkled apples tucked in the veg drawer.

Nothing in here, love.

Really? Whats supposed to be in here? Did you put something in? she asked. And didnt you know you have to put something in a fridge before you can take something out?

Enough, Im starving, Victor sighed.

I figured as much. But I warned you: wherever the money goes, the dinner follows. Same goes for breakfast, by the way, Imogen said, settling into her armchair with a knitting needle.

Victor had to pop over to his mums.

The following day his motherinlaw, Agnes Hargreaves, turned up to educate the daughterinlaw.

After a lengthy tirade, Imogen retorted:

Youve gone to a lot of trouble for nothing, Agnes. I havent heard anything new. I already know Im a terrible wife. Maybe I should just move in with you, Victor? Why am I bothering you?

Stop the nonsense! You married him, so live with him! the motherinlaw snapped.

Got it. Im the bad one! My flat is nice, my salarys decent, Ive got a bonus! The only problem is I dont want to share any of it with you or Zoe!

So youve decided to clean out your sons pockets? Keep him on his own this month. Remember: he doesnt eat sausages, and chicken will make him sick.

So dinner will be steak with chips and salad. Maybe you can throw in some cabbage rollsjust add more meat. Youll even have to wash his laundry yourself.

Imogen, have you lost your mind? You used to manage just fine! Agnes exclaimed.

We did manage sometimes, Imogen answered. Until you stuck your nose in our business. Zoe and Greg split up, and now you think you can swoop in?

What are you talking about? Who did I split up? Agnes fumed.

You, of course! The daughters were nagging: Greg is lazy, he barely earns, his education is rubbish, his flat tiny You drove Greg to the brink, and he fled! Zoes left with two kids and an impossible mortgage. Satisfied now?

Probably not! You got bored and decided to meddle. Im not Greg, I wont stand for itsend Victor back to us, look after him yourself. Who else will do a mothers job? Really, Victor?

Oh, love, I never thought of it that way! I dont want a split. It was Mum who offered Zoe a hand, Victor tried to explain.

A helping hand? So until the next paycheck youll be living with Mum or Zoe, whichever they agree on. Ill think about that.

Victor finally realised Imogen wasnt joking. He spent the whole month crashing on his mums sofa until the next salary hit.

On the fifth of the month he finally trudged home.

Imogen, Ive transferred my wages and sent Emily three thousand, he announced at the door.

From the kitchen wafted a mouthwatering aroma of pork stirfry in a sweetandsour glaze.

Wash your hands and sit down, Imogen smiled. Or are you heading back to Mums?

Victor stared, eyes wide, tongue stuck in his mouth from sheer shock. Imogen, seeing his panic, didnt bother with more words. She simply smiled, knowing her point was made loud and clear.

So, what did you think of Imogens little stunt? Drop your thoughts in the comments and give us a like if you enjoyed the tale. Your feedback keeps us writing more!