My Husband’s “Childhood Friend” Kept Asking for His Help So Often, I Finally Had to Step In and Set …

Oh William, please! I really dont know what to do, water is gushing everywhere, Im going to flood the neighbours and you know what that battleaxe downstairs is like, shell have my head! My hands are shaking, I cant even find the stopcock! The voice on the phone was shrill, verging on tears. I could hear her clearly even though the phone was pressed to my husbands ear and he sat at the far end of the table.

I set my fork down on my plate with exaggerated care. The clink of stainless steel on porcelain rang in the small, peaceful dining room like the bell for another round in a fight I had now been waging for three years. My husband, William, sat opposite, biting his lip in guilt, glancing from the cooling casserole to the glowing screen of his mobile.

Emily, love, try to calm down he was muttering into the phone. Which stopcock do you mean, kitchen or loo? You need to turn off the main tap.

I dont know where that is! Will, please, Im begging you! Im scared! What if its boiling water? Im on my own, I dont know what to do!

William looked at me. His expression was a familiar blend of desperation and pleadingthe one Id seen so many times lately.

Lizzie, do you hear that? Shes going to flood the whole block. Emilys hopeless with this kind of thing; shes like a kid. I should go.

Of course you should, I said evenly, managing to contain the storm inside me. I mean, its not as if its our anniversary tonight. And we havent been planning this dinner for two weeks. Or I didnt just spend three hours in the kitchen. Yes, go on, William. Save Emily. Goodness knows, she couldnt survive without you.

Dont start, please? William replied as he jumped up, grabbing his car keys. We grew up together. She needs help. Ill be quick; just need to change a washer. Pop the casserole back in the oven so it doesnt go cold.

The door slammed. I sat alone in the flat, the air thick with the scents of roast beef and disappointment. I went to the window and watched his car zip away into the dusk.

Emily. That name had become the uninvited third party in our marriage. She was his childhood friend, his classmate. Practically just one of the lads, as William liked to put it. She reappeared in his life right after her own divorce, and since then shed been a constant fixture. At first, shed needed one-off favours: moving boxes, sorting the Wi-Fi. William, ever the helpful sort, never said no.

But her requests quickly escalated. A tyre puncture on the motorway, a collapsed bathroom shelf, an urgent flatpack assembly mission because the place is a tip, I cant live like this. And all these emergencies, by some miracle, cropped up at the exact moments William and I had plans.

Im not the jealous, paranoid kind. Friendship is friendship. But a womans gut instinct is hard to ignore. It wasnt about broken taps. Emily was a pretty womanalways made-up, with a sultry look and a way of talking to men as if they were knights in shining armour. She played the helpless damsel card so well, and William couldnt help but puff out his chest and play along.

I cleared the dinner away. My appetite had disappeared. William returned three hours later, hands dirty, looking exhausted but satisfied.

Phew, made it in time! Honestly, it was nearly a total flood. The siphon snapped off. Had to pop to the twenty-four-hour shop for a washer. Emily was in bitsdowned half a bottle of Rescue Remedy.

Did she at least give her hero a cup of tea? I asked, pretending to be lost in my book.

She did, and some apple cake. Shed baked earlier. Oh, she sends her apologies for spoiling the evening and her regards.

Apple cake… I thought to myself. So while water was gushing everywhere, she had something in the oven. Funny, that.

I said nothing else. Blowing up at William would be pointlesshed just accuse me of being cold-hearted and irrational. I needed subtler tactics. Next time, I wouldnt just sit at home. Next time, Id go save Emily too.

Next time came sooner than Id hoped. Saturday morning, we were set for a trip to the countryside. The weather was glorious. The boot was packed with charcoal and marinated lamb. In my mind, I pictured us on the veranda, a glass of wine in hand.

Williams phone rang as he loaded the bags. I tensed. I knew that special ringtonehed set it for Emily.

Yes, Em? Whats up? What do you mean, sparking? Is it bad? You can smell burning? Dont touch it! Turn off the fuses in the hall! Yes, yes, Im on my way.

He ended the call and looked at me, standing by the garden gate with a tray of petunias.

Liz… theres a bit of an emergency…

Socket? I asked flatly.

Worse. The fuse box is sparking, she says theres a strong smell of burning. Shes worried the wiring will catch fire. You cant get a council electrician out on a Saturday and private ones take ages and cost a fortune.

I see, I put the tray down carefully. So, no countryside?

Not cancelled, just delayed! Well pop round to hers, Ill check it out. If its big, emergency services; if not, Ill fix it myself. Just a tiny detour, I promisean hour, tops.

Fine, I nodded. Im coming too.

William looked taken aback.

Why? Youre not an electrician. Just stay here, Ill be quick.

No, William. Were going to the countryside. Together. Well swing by Emily, you fix the problem, and then we carry on. Im not waiting here on my own all day. I havent seen Emily in ages anyway, might as well say hello.

He fidgeted, but couldnt argue. We drove in tense silence; William drummed his fingers on the wheel, while I maintained a serene expression, even as my insides twisted tight.

Emily greeted us in a silk dressing gown slipping above the knees, make-up flawless. When she saw me stepping out of the car, her face slipped for a split secondthe corners of her mouth dropped, her eyes darkenedbut she plastered on a bright smile.

Lizzie! What a surprise! I look a fright, Im half out of my mind after that scare! she fussed at her perfectly arranged curls. Come in, come in. Will, you angel, its all sparks and hissing in the hall!

Inside, the faint smell of scorched plastic lingered, but not overwhelmingly so. William headed for the fuse box, screwdriver and tester in hand, all business.

Oh Lizzie, dont stand in the hall, Emily sang out, trying to steer me toward the kitchen. Lets have a coffee while the men sort things out.

No, thanks. Ill stay out here, I replied firmly. William might need helphold something for him, shine a torch.

A torch? she giggled. Hes a pro, he could do this blindfolded. Right, Will?

William grunted noncommittally from his squat at the fuse box.

Emily, I said, fixing her with a look, why didnt you call the managing agents? Their emergency lines manned every day, all day. This is electricsserious stuff.

Oh, but the people they send are so rude! They stomp about, leave muddy footprints, bark at you. But WillI trust him. Hes family! Hes got magic hands. I only trust him.

My husbands magic hands, I cut in, pointedly, were supposed to be skewering lamb today. We were going to the countryside.

Oh, Im always ruining things! Emily pressed her hands together in mock prayer. Just hopeless on my own. Everything falls apart. Youre lucky, Lizzie; youve got someone to rely on.

William finished up fifteen minutes later.

Loose connection, bit singed. Ive sorted it, but, Em, you should have the circuit breaker replaced its past its best.

Oh Will, could you possibly… Ill pay you, of course, could you get the right one and swap it for me?

William wont be able to, I answered for him. Were off to the countryside and have theatre tickets next weekend. Call a proper electrician, Em. William will write down what you need to buy.

Emily shot me a look of undisguised dislike, but switched back to her charming act for William.

At least have a cuppa! I bought éclairs your favourites!

Were fine, thank you, I said, taking Williams arm. Weve got a timetable.

On the way out, William sighed with relief, but tried to defend his friend.

Liz, did you have to be so blunt? She meant well.

She meant well by clinging to you, William. Honestly, cant you see it? That dressing gown, the looks… Shes not looking for help; she wants your attention.

Come on now, youre overreacting! Weve known each other for agesshe sees me like a brother.

A brother who can fix everything, listen endlessly, boost her ego. A very handy brother.

We did make it to the countryside, but something lingered in the air. I sensed the battle wasnt over. Emily wouldnt back down so easily; she enjoyed having that power, pulling puppet strings, testing to see if someone elses husband would come running at her beck and call.

The showdown came two weeks later. William was away with work and due home Friday night. I was making supper, looking forward to having him back. At six, his call came.

Lizzie, Im going to be a bit late. Im in town, but Emilys called… Shes in a bit of a fix.

What this time? My voice turned icy. A meteorite crashed through her window?

No, she bought a new curtain rod, heavy iron one. Tried to put it up herselfidiotdropped it on her foot. Says her toes swollen, cant walk properly. The rods blocking the room. Shes asked if I can pop round, move it, nip to Boots for some cream. I wont be long.

I took a deep breath.

William, listen to me. Come straight home. Ill go to her.

You? Why?

Because Im a woman. I know what to buy for a sore foot, and I can help her. And you must be exhausted after all that driving. Come home, warm your dinner. Ill be at hers in half an hour.

Well… all right, if you insist. Just dont row with her, OK? Shes having a rough time.

I hung up and set my plan in motion. I had no intention of tending to Emilys foot. I meant to fix the dynamic between all three of us.

I googled a local Handyman on Call service and booked their most fearsome-sounding repairman with glowing reviews. I ordered a tube of ibuprofen gel and a bandage for delivery to Emily. Then I drove over myself.

Arriving at her building, I intercepted the pharmacy courier ringing her bell, relieved him of his parcel, and took the stairs. Her front door was ajarshe mustve left it that way, expecting William.

I stepped inside. The room was dimly lit; candles everywhere, a bottle of wine and two glasses set out. Emily was sprawled on the sofa in her silk gown, one leg elegantly extended. The curtain rod, far from blocking the room, sat tidily on the floor.

When she heard footsteps, she purred, Will, is that you? It hurts so much… did you get the cream?

I flicked on the main light, banishing the candlelit mood in an instant.

Emily sprang upright, suddenly forgetting her injured foot.

Lizzie?! Why are you here? Wheres William?

Williams at home, having dinner, I replied coolly, placing the pharmacy bag beside the wine. I brought you what you need. And a bit of help.

What help? Emily blinked, catching up with her foiled plan. I needed Will! He can hang the rod; hes strong!

The rod can be put up by the professional I hired, I told her.

At that moment the bell rang. I answered. On the landing stood a hulking fellow in overalls with a toolkit.

Handyman service, he grunted, curtain rod, right?

Yes, thank you. Straight ahead. The lady will show you where.

He nodded, gave Emilys living room a once over, and set to work.

Walls concrete, Ill need to use anchors. Got my kit. Wheres your stepladder?

Emily sat red-faced on the sofa, glaring daggers at me.

Why are you doing this? she hissed as the sound of drilling filled the room.

Helping, as you asked, I said, feigning innocence. Here are your meds, heres your handyman. All paid for. William is resting. And as for your curtain rodwell, unless you needed something else fixed, maybe a married mans attention?

She jumped up, forgetting to limp.

Get out! she shrieked. Youre playing saint, but Williams suffocating with you! He wants fun, not a schoolmistress!

Maybe, I shrugged. But hes at home with me. And every emergency you stage to lure him like a prize spaniel just makes you look desperate. Youre a lovely woman, Em. Find yourself a single man. Stop begging at someone elses door.

Leave now! she screamed.

Of course. He should be about twenty minutes. Its all sorted. Get better soon, Emily. Dont run, that foot might get worse.

As I left her flat, a sudden lightness washed over me. I hadnt had to scream at my husband or yank my rivals hairId simply let the situation speak for itself.

William greeted me at home, worry etched across his face.

How was it? Did she do her foot in badly? Shes not answering my calls.

I sat down, poured a cup of tea, and fixed him with a look.

She was just fine. Up and about. The rods being done by a handyman; Ive paid for it.

Handyman? Why? I could have

William, sit down, I pointed to the chair opposite.

He obeyed, quietly.

Did you really not see what was happening? The candles, wine, silk dressing gown, only calling when I was out or we had plans?

He flushed, eyes on the tablecloth.

I suppose I did, deep down. But I didnt want to admit it. Were old friends. I felt awkward saying no; I thought, if I ignored it, itd stop. She seemed so lost, so fragile.

Fragile? I almost laughed. She was winding you round her little finger, William. And you, in trying to be kind to her, ended up hurting me. You stole time from our family to stroke her ego. I saw it tonighttwo wine glasses, romantic candles. She wasnt expecting a handyman. She was expecting you.

He said nothing, picking at his bread.

Im sorry, he finally said, sheepish. Ive been a fool.

A bit, I admitted. But a kind fool. And I love you. But from today, William, Emily and your emergencies are over. She now has the number for the handyman service. If something breaks, she calls them. Or her other mates if shes lonely. You are no longer her knight in shining armour. Deal?

Deal, he nodded, resolutely. I get it now. If Id shown up and seen those candles…

Emily never called again. Not that week, or the month after. Maybe prideor what remained of itkept her from trying on us again.

Half a year later, I bumped into her in a department store. She was arm-in-arm with a well-heeled gentleman, laden with shopping bags, looking perfectly content. We caught each others gaze. She tossed her head, snorted, and swept past as if I were a stranger.

I just smiled. Good for her. At last, shed found someone to fix her pipes and hang her curtain rodsfair and square. William and I enjoyed a new peace at home, no longer interrupted by demands to rush off and save the world from a dodgy U-bend.

Now, our evenings were spent sharing tea and planning holidays, certain that if we were bound for the countryside, wed actually make it. Because the boundaries of your home must be guarded, even when the gatecrasher wears the mask of helplessness.

And what did I learn? Sometimes, to protect the balance of your own world, you must draw your line in the sand and have the courage to stand behind it. Even if it makes you the schoolmistress in someone elses story.