Connect with us

З життя

What You Really Want Isn’t a Wife, But a Live-In Housekeeper

Published

on

You dont need a wife, you need a housekeeper.

Mum, Mollys chewed my pencil again!

Sophie shot into the kitchen, waving the stub of a coloured pencil, her cheeks red with annoyance. Behind her, Mollya guilty-looking golden Labradorambled in, tail wagging furiously. Jane glanced up from the bubbling stew and spluttering sausages on the stove and sighed. That was the third pencil just today.

Pop it in the bin and grab another from the drawer, Sophie. Oliver, have you finished your maths?
Almost! came the reply from the childrens room.

Jane knew almost from her twelve-year-old son meant he was slouched over his mobile, with an unopened exercise book somewhere nearby. She let it slideright now, she needed to fish the sausages out, stir the soup, catch four-year-old Toby before he reached the dogs bowl, and not forget the laundry cycling in the machine.

Thirty-two years old. Three children. One husband. One husbands grandmother. One golden Labrador. And Jane herselfthe only cog still working in the creaking contraption that was her household.

Jane hardly ever fell illnot from robust health, but sheer necessity. Whod feed this family? Whod get the children washed and dressed, walk Molly, keep everyone ticking along? The answer was always the samenobody but Jane.

Jane darling, is supper nearly ready?

Edith stood in the kitchen doorway, leaning on her walking stick. Eighty-five, as sharp as ever, always with a hearty appetite.

During the five years Jane had shared her home with the old woman, she could count on one hand the times Edith had actually done anything useful about the house.

Ten minutes, Mrs. Gardner, Jane replied.

The old lady gave a brief, satisfied nod and shuffled back to the living room. Occasionallythough only rarelyshed read Toby bedtime stories. The choices were sparse: Goldilocks and the Three Bears or The Gingerbread Man. Still, Toby listened gleefully. The rest of the time, Edith watched daytime television and waited for her next meal.

The clock announced half five when the key turned in the front door. Richard stepped in, looking like someone whod just completed a gruelling London marathon.

Is dinner ready?

Not even a hello. Jane gestured to the table, already set. Richard washed his hands, sat in his chair, and barely looked up as the television flickered to life with the remotealways ready in his palm.

Sophie got top marks in reading today, Jane attempted.
Mm-hmm.
And Oliver needs help with his project on British wildlife.
Mm-hmm.

That mm-hmm was the most engagement she could wring from him. After supper, Richard sprawled on the sofa. His work was done for the day. Hed brought home the moneyand as far as he was concerned, that was job complete.

Later that evening, after the children were tucked up, Jane opened her laptop. Her remote job with an online shopprocessing orders, answering customers, arranging deliverieswasnt lucrative, but it was hers. Plus, she had the income from letting out her old flat these past four years.

We ought to move, the familiar thought drifted in. But it was chased away by the usual protests: Good school for Oliver, Sophie settled at nursery, she couldnt forgo the rental income… She snapped the laptop shut. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, always tomorrow.

December arrived with its whirlwind of Christmas chaosand the flu. Janes temperature shot up to thirty-nine in a blink. Her bones ached, her throat burned, her head cracked open with agony. She barely made it to bed.

Mum, youre poorly, Oliver announced, poking his head in.

Richard followed, his face wearing something like concernbut not for Jane.

Just dont give it to Gran. She cant cope with flu at her age.

Jane closed her eyes and pressed the pillow to her face. Of course. Edith. How could she forget the most important one?

The next three days spun out into a fever-misted carousel. High temperature, sweat-soaked pillow, parched lips. No onea husband, grandmother, or childrenbrought Jane so much as a glass of water. The kettle was in the kitchen, just ten steps away, but Jane took every aching flight across the landing herself, steadying along the wall.

All anyone worried about was Edith. Dont go in there, mums ill. Wear a mask if you go past her room. Shouldnt she stay in another room?
SheJanehad officially become a risk: the source of contamination everyone else needed protection from.

A week later, the virus made its rounds. First Tobysniffling, hot, fretful. Next, Sophie. Then Richard, who made a show of convalescence with a temperature of thirty-seven and a bit. Edith was lastcollapsing with all the drama worthy of a matinee on the telly.

Jane, still shaky herself, got up. Chicken soup, chemists run, thermometer, the mop, the washall the familiar route, but now as if walking through water.

Richard, could you take Toby for an hour? I need to nip to Boots.

Her husband rolled his eyes in martyrdom, but agreed. Exactly sixty minutes laterJane timed ithe returned, depositing Toby into the bedroom.

Im exhausted. Ive got a temperature too.

Thirty-six and a half. Jane checked.

Spring brought no relief. Another virus, more colds, endless wakeful nights. Toby whined, Sophie spat out her medicine, Edith demanded special meals. In the middle of it allremarkably healthy Richard.

Richard, help with the kids?
Jane, I pitched in last timeon the weekend. But I work, you know. Im worn out by the end of the day.

A shrug. That small gesture explained everything. Evenings found him at the table, awaiting supper. Sick kids, tired wife, chaosthey simply werent his concern.

One evening, as Toby finally nodded off and the older two did their homework, Jane approached Richard. The TV droned on about football.

Why wont you help me? Why do you never help me?

He didnt turn. Didnt answer. Just turned the volume up.
Jane stood behind him, watching the back of his head. No more words were needed. She understood, clear as day.

The next morning she fetched the big bags from the wardrobe. Childrens clothes, toys, paperwork. Oliver froze in the doorway.

Mum? Are we going somewhere?
To Granny Irenes.
For how long?
Well see.

Sophie squealed with delightGranny Irene always made her favourite scones. Toby, puzzled, grabbed his soft toy rabbit just in case.

At the last second, Jane remembered another family memberMolly. Shed come too.

Richard lay on the sofa. The bags, the packed belongings, the children in their coatsnone of it lured him away from the telly. As Janes footsteps faded from the hallway, he probably just flicked the channel.

Irene welcomed her daughter and grandchildren without question. Warmed them, wrapped her arms around them. Fifty-eight, a teacher for thirty yearsshe understood everything without explanation.

Stay as long as you need.

The phone started ringing on the third dayRichard.

Jane, come back. Its a tip here. Nothing to eat. Gran keeps bothering me.

No I miss you. No Its awful without you. Just the grumbling of domestic inconvenience.

Richard, you dont need a wifeyou need a housekeeper.
What? Whats that meant to
Have you once told the children you miss them?

Silence. Heavy, resounding.

I bring home the wages, he muttered at last. What more do you want?

Jane hung up. It was over. And with that came a quiet, bewildering relief.

A fortnight later, Janes flat became vacant. The move took one day. New school for Oliver, new nursery for Sophieturns out, it was all far easier to arrange than shed imagined.

The final call was their last ever. Out poured every swallowed retort, every sleepless night spent nursing feverish children by herselfthe dam burst at last.

Twelve years a free maiddo you hear me? Not once did you ask how I was! Not once! Thats it, Im done. Ive had enough!

She blocked his number. Filed for divorce.

The hearing was over in twenty minutes. Richard didnt argue. He signed the child support agreement, nodded at the judge, and left. Perhaps he realised somethingmore likely, he simply didnt want the bother.

That evening, Jane sat in the kitchen of her new-old flat. Oliver read in his room, Sophie drew furiously at the table, tongue poking out in concentration. Toby played with his blocks on the rug.

Quiet. Peaceful. Molly dozed at her feet, chin on her paws.

Jane still had meals to cook, laundry to fold, work to finishbut now, it was for those who truly were her family. And shed do her best to teach them better, so theyd never grow up to become like their father.

Mum, Sophie piped up, glancing up from her drawing, you smile much more now.

Jane smiled again. Sophie, as ever, was right.

Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Ваша e-mail адреса не оприлюднюватиметься. Обов’язкові поля позначені *

15 + чотирнадцять =

Також цікаво:

З життя25 секунд ago

You Don’t Deserve It — “After my divorce, I thought I’d never trust anyone again,” Andrew admitted, fidgeting with his empty espresso cup. His voice cracked and wavered so convincingly that Kate found herself leaning closer. “You know, when someone betrays you, you lose a part of yourself. She left me with wounds I thought would never heal… I honestly didn’t think I’d survive.” Andrew’s stories poured out for a long time: about his wife who never appreciated him, the pain that wouldn’t let go, the fear of starting over. Each word settled in Kate’s heart like a warm little stone. She imagined herself as the woman who could restore his faith in love—how they’d heal his scars together, how he’d realize true happiness was possible with her by his side. He first mentioned Max on their second date, casually dropped in between dessert and coffee… — “I have a son, by the way. He’s seven. Lives with his mum, but stays with me every weekend. The court said so.” — “That’s wonderful!” Kate beamed. “Children are a blessing.” She started daydreaming: Saturday morning breakfasts for three, trips to the park, TV evenings together. The boy needed a woman’s care, a mother’s warmth. She could become a second mum—not a replacement, but someone close, someone family… — “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Andrew watched her with a crooked smile she mistook for wariness at the time. “A lot of women run when they hear about a kid.” — “I’m not most women,” she said proudly. Her first weekend with Max was a celebration. Kate made blueberry pancakes—his absolute favourite, as Andrew had tipped her off. Patiently, she helped him through his maths homework. She washed his dinosaur T-shirt, pressed his school uniform, made sure he was in bed by nine sharp. — “You should have a rest,” she told Andrew after he’d sprawled out on the sofa with the remote. “I’ve got this covered.” Andrew nodded—or so it seemed then, gratefully. But now she realized it was the nod of a man taking his due. Time marched on. Kate worked as a logistics manager, out by eight, home after seven. Decent salary by London standards—enough for two. But there were three. — “Hold-up on site again,” Andrew would say as if announcing a hurricane, “Client’s pulled out. But there’s a big contract coming, I promise.” The “big contract” hovered on the horizon for a year and a half, sometimes getting closer, mostly never arriving. But the bills always came—rent, utilities, internet, groceries, child support for Marina, new trainers for Max, school contributions. Kate paid all of them, quietly. She skimped on lunches, brought in tupperware pasta, walked home in the rain to save on cabs. She hadn’t had a manicure in a year—did her own nails and tried not to remember the luxury of professional treatments. Three years, and Andrew had given her flowers exactly three times. Kate remembered each bouquet—cheap roses from the convenience kiosk near their tube stop, droopy and with snapped-off thorns. Probably on special offer… The first was an apology after Andrew called her hysterical in front of Max. The second came after an argument about a friend who visited unannounced. The third, when he missed her birthday because he lingered with mates—simply forgot. — “Andrew, I don’t want expensive gifts,” she tried to keep her voice gentle. “Just… sometimes I’d like to know you’re thinking of me. Even a card…” His face contorted instantly. — “So it’s all about money for you, is it? Presents? Don’t you care about love? Or what I’ve been through?” — “That’s not what—” — “You don’t deserve it.” Andrew spat the words at her like dirt. “After all I do for you, you still complain.” She fell silent. She always did—it made things easier. Easier to live, to breathe, to pretend everything was fine. Yet, for mates’ nights, Andrew always found cash. Pubs, football at the local, café Thursdays. He’d come home tipsy, reeking of sweat and cigarettes, flop onto the bed without noticing Kate was still awake. She convinced herself this was how love worked. Love meant sacrifice. Love meant patience. He would change, surely. She just had to be even more attentive, love even harder—after all, look at what he’d suffered… Talk of marriage became a minefield. — “We’re happy as we are, why do we need a piece of paper?” Andrew waved the question away like a pesky fly. “After what happened with Marina, I need time.” — “It’s been three years, Andrew. That’s a long time.” — “Now you’re pressuring me—always pressuring!” He stormed off, ending the conversation. Kate longed for children of her own. She was twenty-eight, the ticking biological clock growing louder each month. But Andrew wasn’t interested in a second round of fatherhood—he had a son, and that was enough for him. Then came that Saturday—she asked for just one day. One day. — “The girls are inviting me over. We haven’t seen each other in ages. I’ll be back by evening.” Andrew looked at her as though she’d announced she was emigrating. — “And Max?” — “He’s your son, Andrew. Spend the day with him.” — “So you’re abandoning us? On a Saturday? When I’m expecting to relax?” She blinked. In three years she’d never left them alone. Never asked for a day to herself. She cooked, cleaned, tutored homework, washed, ironed—while holding a full-time job. — “I just want to see my friends. It’s only a few hours… And he’s your son. Can’t you spend a day with him on your own?” — “You’re supposed to love my child as much as me!” Andrew suddenly roared. “You live in my flat, eat my food, and now you’ve got the nerve to make demands?!” His flat. His food. Kate paid the rent. Kate bought the food. Three years supporting a man who yelled at her for wanting to spend a day with her friends. She looked at Andrew—twisted face, throbbing temples, fists clenched—and saw him for the first time. Not as a wounded soul, not a helpless victim in need of rescue, but an adult who had learned to expertly exploit kindness. Kate, to him, was not a beloved partner, not a future wife. She was a walking wallet and a live-in maid. That was all. When Andrew left to drop Max back to Marina, Kate took out her suitcase. Her hands moved calmly, no shakes, no doubts. Passport. Mobile. Charger. A couple of shirts and jeans. The rest could be bought later. The rest didn’t matter. She left no note. What could she explain to a man who never valued her? The door closed behind her quietly, no fuss, no drama. The calls started within an hour—one, then another, then a barrage—a shrill, endless trill that made her phone quiver. — “Kate, where are you?! What’s going on?! You’ve gone, there’s no dinner! Am I supposed to go hungry now? What the hell?!” She listened—his voice angry, demanding, full of righteous indignation—and marvelled. Even now, as she’d left, Andrew thought only of himself. How inconvenient this was. Who would make his tea? No “sorry”. No “what happened”. Just “how dare you”. Kate blocked his number. Blocked him on Messenger. On every social platform—brick by brick, she built herself a wall. Three years. Three years with someone who never loved her. Who used her empathy as a disposable resource. Who convinced her that self-sacrifice was love. But that’s not love. Love doesn’t humiliate. Love doesn’t reduce someone to a servant. Kate walked through the twilight streets of London and for the first time in ages, she could breathe. She vowed she’d never again confuse love with self-neglect. Never again give herself away to those who prey on pity. And always, always choose herself. Just herself.

I never thought Id be able to trust anyone again after my divorce, Andrew was turning an empty espresso cup...

З життя2 хвилини ago

My Ex-Husband’s Son from His New Marriage Fell Ill – He Asked Me for Financial Help and I Refused!

Im 37 years old. Ive been divorced for a good ten years now. My ex-husband was unfaithful and I couldnt...

З життя1 годину ago

What You Really Want Isn’t a Wife, But a Live-In Housekeeper

You dont need a wife, you need a housekeeper. Mum, Mollys chewed my pencil again! Sophie shot into the kitchen,...

З життя1 годину ago

My Children Are Well Provided For, I Have a Bit Put By, and Soon I’ll Be Taking My Pension: The Story of My Friend Fred, the Beloved Local Mechanic, and the Family Who Couldn’t Let Him Rest

My kids are sorted, Ive got a bit tucked away, and soon enough, Ill be drawing my pension. A few...

З життя2 години ago

I’m 45 and I No Longer Entertain Guests at Home: Why I Prefer Celebrating in Restaurants and Value My Comfort Over Hosting Unruly Visitors

I’m 45 years old now, and I no longer welcome guests into my home. Some people, when visiting, seem to...

З життя2 години ago

Step by Step, We Brought Water and Finally Gas to Her Old Home—Then We Added All the Modern Conveniences. Later, I Found My Aunt’s House on a UK Property Website

Bit by bit, we managed to connect Aunt Catherine’s cottage to water, and eventually gas as well. After that, we...

З життя3 години ago

“We’ll Be Staying With You For a While, Since We Can’t Afford to Rent Our Own Place!” – My Friend Announced Unexpectedly. At 65, I’m Still an Active Woman With a Love for Travel and Meeting New People, but an Old Friendship Took a Shocking Turn When Unexpected Guests Arrived at My Doorstep in the Middle of the Night, Refused to Leave, and Left With My Belongings!

Were going to stay at yours for a while, because we cant afford to rent our own flat! my friend...

З життя3 години ago

“I Had to Buy My Own Fridge So Mum Wouldn’t Take My Groceries – Anna’s Unusual Solution to Family Conflict Over Flat Ownership, Money, and Sharing”

I had to get myself a separate fridge, says Charlotte. It sounds ridiculous, but there was no other choice. I...