Valerie Was Washing the Dishes When John Walked In and Turned Off the Light: A British Kitchen Drama…

I was standing at the sink in our cramped kitchen, washing the dishes, when Tom walked in. He flicked off the light, his perpetual frown creasing deeper.

Its still light outside. No need to waste electricity, he grumbled.

I was about to put a load of washing on, I said.

You can do that tonight, he replied flatly. When the electricitys on off-peak. And stop turning the tap up full. You use far too much water, Emma. Way too much. Youre pouring our money straight down the draindo you not realise that?

He twisted the tap, lowering the flow. I sighed, switched it off entirely, dried my hands, and sat down at the table.

Tom, have you ever looked at yourself from the outside? I asked.

I do nothing but look at myself from the outside, he snapped back, eyes cold.

And what do you see? I pressed.

You mean as a person?

As a husband. A father.

Normal, Id say. Like any other man. Nothing special. Why are you going on?

So you think all husbands and fathers are like you? My voice trembled, but I wouldnt back down.

What are you getting at? Are you trying to pick a fight? he growled.

But once the words had started, I knew there was no way back. I needed this conversationneeded to keep going until it finally pierced that thick skin of his just how suffocating it was to live alongside him.

Do you know why you havent left yet? I looked him right in the eye.

And why should I leave? he scoffed.

At the very least, because you dont love me, I replied. Nor our children, for that matter.

He snorted, but I cut him off.

Dont deny it. Lets not argue over the obvious and waste time. Im talking about something elseabout why you stick around.

Go on, then. Why?

Because youre so tight with money. Because losing us would mean a financial hit you couldnt bear. How long has it been? Fifteen years? And what have we got to show for it, besides a marriage certificate and two kids? What have we actually accomplished in all that time?

Weve got our whole lives ahead of us, he muttered.

No, Tom. Weve got whatevers left of them. You know, in all that time, weve never once taken the children to the seaside. Not once. Im not talking trips abroad, just within England. But no, we spend every holiday here in town. Never a day out, never a walk in the woods. Why? Because it might cost us.

Were saving, he said defensively. For our future.

We? Or just you?

For you and the kids, he claimed.

For us? I laughed bitterly. Youve been putting both our wages in your account every month, for me and the children? Really?

Exactly. Do you know how much Ive saved? he said.

We? I challenged. Well, perhaps youve got savings, but Ive got nothing. Maybe Im mistaken. Lets see then. Give me some money for a startI need to buy new clothes for me and the kids. For fifteen years, Ive made do with my old wedding dress and whatever Catherineyour brothers wifehas handed down. Our kids only ever wear things their cousins have outgrown. Im sick of it. And once Ive got the money, Ill finally get us a flat of our own, because I cant stand living with your mother any longer.

Mum gave us two rooms, he replied stiffly. You should be thankful. And anyway, why make a fuss about clothes? Hand-me-downs are just practical.

And what about me? What am I supposed to wear? Catherines cast-offs forever?

Who do you need to dress up for? he scoffed. Youre thirty-five, youve got two kids. You shouldnt be worrying about clothes.

And what should I worry about then? I asked quietly.

About lifes meaning, Tom replied, as if I were a child. Theres more to it than just clothes and fripperies. You should rise above the obsession with material things.

Ah, so thats why you keep all the money locked up and give us nothing? To foster a spiritual life for us? Am I getting it right?

Youre not to be trusted with money! Tom suddenly shouted. Youd spend it all at once. What would we live on then, if something happened? Did you think about that?

Whatll we live on? When will we actually start living, Tom? Do you not see were already living as if your something happened has already come?

He glared at me, jaw clenched.

You scrimp even on soap, loo roll, and napkins. You pilfer soap and hand cream from the depot.

Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves, he muttered. It all starts with little things. Spending on fancy soaps or indulgent creams is ridiculous.

Well, set a date for me, then, Tom. How much longer am I to live like this? Another ten, fifteen, twenty years? How long before we can finally splash out on proper loo paper? Im thirty-five now, but I see were nowhere near the date. Forty? Is forty the magical number when life begins?

He stayed silent.

Or is it fifty? Will I finally be allowed to live at fifty?

His silence was an answer.

Right. Silly me. Who really starts living at fifty? Maybe at sixty, Tom? Well have plenty saved up by then. Maybe then I can take the kids shopping for new clothes, maybe even get a flat of my own. Or will it never happen?

Tom just sat there, mouth opening and closing, unable to speak.

You know, Tom, my voice trembled now, what if we dont make it to sixty? With the way we eat, all these cheap ready meals and discounted tins, we eat too much rubbish. It cant be good for us. Our moods always rotten too. You havent noticed? People dont last long when they live like this.

If we moved out and spent more, we couldnt save, he said, as if this was the final, irrefutable point.

Exactly, Tom. Thats why Im leaving. Im done saving for a tomorrow that never arrives. You like hoarding moneyI dont. Not anymore.

How will you manage? His voice was tinged now with real fear.

Oh, Ill do just fine. My wage is as good as yours. Ill rent a flat for the three of us. Bit left over for clothes and whatever else we need. And best of allno more lectures about turning off lights and using the washing machine only at midnight. Ill buy good toilet roll, Ill have proper napkins on the table. Ill buy what I like, when I like. I wont be waiting for the sales.

You wont be able to save a thing! He sounded almost desperate.

Maybe not. Or maybe Ill save what youll have to pay in maintenance. But youre rightI probably wont save. Not because I cant, but because I dont want to. Ill spend it allyours included. Every last penny. Ill live from paycheque to paycheque, and on weekends, Ill bring the children round to see you and your mother. Imagine that, Tomthose weekends are my own again. Ill go to theatres, to restaurants, to museums. And in the summer, Im off to the seaside. Not sure where, exactlybut its happening, as soon as Im free of you.

A shadow crossed his face, and I could see real fear. Not for me, or the kidsfor himself. He was mentally adding up how much would be left after maintenance payments and childrens spending, how much less his future fund would grow. But what really tormented him was the thought of me spending his money on holidays by the sea.

By the way, I said, going in for the kill, well split that savings account. Right down the middle.

What do you mean split it? he gasped.

Fifty-fifty, I said. Im spending my share. However much youve managed to accumulate in fifteen yearsIm going to use it. Im not saving for life, Tom. Im choosing to start living now.

He was silent, lips working, but nothing came out. The shock seemed to root him to the spot.

You know what my real dream is, Tom? That when my time comes, my bank accounts empty. Then Ill know for sure I used every penny on actually living.

Two months later, the divorce was final.