Anne Harrington unlocked her front door and froze. Unfamiliar boots and a puffer jacket hung in the hall. Emily’s friend must be over again.
“Guests?” she called towards Emily’s room, bustling past with groceries.
Before she could finish unpacking, Emily appeared.
“Mum, Chloe’s here. Can she stay the night? We’ve got a module test tomorrow. The halls are hopeless for revising. It counts towards her grant.”
A quieter figure emerged behind Emily. “Hello, Mrs. Harrington.” Anne managed a tight smile.
“Of course she can stay. I’ll sort dinner.”
“Cheers, Mum!” Emily pecked her cheek, and the girls dashed back to her room.
Anne remembered Emily’s stories about Chloe. Father drank, little money from her mother down in Sussex… Anne sighed. She never trusted her kind. All wide-eyed innocence on the surface, but underneath? A terrier’s grip, clawing her way into Manchester life by any means tonight she hadn’t planned dinner for four. Leftover shepherd’s pie wouldn’t stretch. Best fry extra sausages and whip up a salad. She mentally patted herself for buying biscuits. She avoided sweets, mindful of the weight gathering around her middle. She began shaping the sausages.
“Mrs. Harrington, need a hand?” Chloe stood in the kitchen doorway.
“No trouble, love, crack on with your studies,” Anne replied flatly.
“Honestly, I need a break. My brain’s fried.” Chloe lingered, unblinking.
“Well then, make the salad. Veg is in the fridge.”
“What kind?” Chloe asked.
“Whatever you fancy,” Anne forced another smile.
Chloe sprang into efficient action, washing veggies, grabbing a chopping board. Emily drifted in, sliced a tomato sloppily, declared she hadn’t finished her reading, and vanished. Chloe sliced onions with confident precision.
“Shall I add lemon juice?”
“Go on then,” Anne nodded. *A sweet girl, capable. Maybe she’ll rub off on our Emily*, Anne thought, a flicker of hope warming her.
When James arrived home, the table was set, tea brewed, biscuits ready.
“Company?” he asked, poking his head into the kitchen.
“Emily’s friend Chloe. Revising. Staying over. Wash up and call the girls,” Anne directed.
Soon they were eating together. James, usually taciturn, became unusually animated, quizzing the girls about uni, telling a feeble joke they dutifully laughed at. Anne was relieved to see him cheerful for once. Afterwards, Chloe offered to wash up. To Anne’s surprise, James lingered chatting instead of heading for the telly. Anne went to find spare sheets for Chloe.
The girls finished washing up and retreated. James slumped before the television, his usual gloomy self. Anne felt uneasy, not jealous. He’d never paid Emily’s friends such attention before.
Chloe stayed away a few days, then asked to sleep over again. Noise from a halls party she couldn’t abide.
“Stay whenever you need, love. There’s room,” Anne agreed warmly.
“It’s just so peaceful here,” Chloe murmured, eyes downcast. *Such an unspoiled, helpful girl. Emily could learn*, Anne sighed.
Lately, her marriage felt hollow. The passion long gone, they coexisted in silent understanding. But with Chloe around, James blossomed into chatter, startling yet pleasing Anne.
Chloe stayed frequently, practically living with them during exams. They even saw the New Year in together. Chloe never went home. Anne understood – an alcoholic father made home bleak. But she must miss her mum? Anne bit her tongue. Chloe might misread the concern. The girl helped clean the flat, while Emily dodged chores. *Never mind, she’ll learn when she marries,* Anne thought. Gradually, Chloe became family. Anne cooked for four regularly. Gifts for Emily included Chloe. Chloe gratefully accepted, reciprocating with housework. Anne shared cooking tricks; Chloe absorbed them eagerly. Even during summer break, when Chloe visited Sussex, Anne missed her.
Two years flew. Early in their third year, Chloe abruptly stopped visiting.
“Em, fallen out? What? Over a lad?” Anne finally asked.
“No, Mum. Chloe’s flat-sharing now.”
“Flat-sharing? How? She told you her parents haven’t two beans to rub together! Why leave? She was part of us!”
“She’s got a boyfriend. Moving in with him, I reckon,” Emily mumbled evasively.
“Who? You’re best mates! She didn’t confide?” Anne pressed.
“Mum, I need to revise!” Emily snapped, turning away. Clearly, something had soured between them. Anne decided it wasn’t her business. Meanwhile, James grew sullen again, working late. Anne knew him too well – something troubled him. She confronted him one evening.
“What’s wrong? Work trouble?”
“Where’d you get that idea? Fine.”
“You’re quiet, distracted, late back. Tell me. Maybe I can help?”
“You can stop pestering me with stupid questions!” James exploded.
Anne was bewildered. It wasn’t unreasonable to ask!
“What’s going on, James?” she persisted.
“Right! Fine!” he barked. “I’ve been meaning to say… there’s someone else. I love her. Happy now? All you care about is shepherd’s pie. Look at yourself! Soon you won’t fit through the door. Revolting.”
Anne stood frozen.
“Who is she? Younger? Why’d she want *you*?* You’re fifty! She’ll play you, drain your wallet, and dump you. And I won’t take you back…”
“Enough! I’m packing.” James stormed off for a suitcase. Anne couldn’t believe it. After twenty years? But he was flinging clothes into a bag. Her efforts – a clean house, good food – meant nothing. What did he want? Youth? Was her weight the only reason? She hated how she looked too. He wasn’t exactly Adonis himself! Did he think he could charm a younger woman? She’d milk him dry. He’d be back. Pathetic.
Anne felt paralysed. What *do* you do? Beg? Scream? Smash crockery? She refused to believe he’d really leave… until the front door slammed. She jumped, surveying the silent room. A discarded sock lay on the floor. She picked it up. No tears. Just shock. That simple. What now? She noticed Emily in the doorway.
“Mum? Dad’s gone?”
“Yes,” Anne sank onto the sofa, clutching the sock. Then it struck her. Emily hadn’t asked *where*. She locked eyes with her daughter. “You know something. Why won’t you ask where he went?”
“Don’t know anything,” Emily turned to leave.
“Liar! I see it! Tell me!” Anne’s voice cracked. Emily whirled around.
“You want to know? Mum, were you blind?”
“Blind to what?” Anne echoed faintly.
“He’s gone with Chloe!” Emily screamed. “Your precious *Chloe*! She wasn’t ours! She kept going on about how great our family was, especially Dad! I didn’t tell you… Once, she skipped lectures, said she felt ill. I stayed late at the library. Came back… caught them! It’s your fault! You stopped bothering! Look at you – barely wear makeup now, piling on weight like an old aunt
She walked to the window, watched James disappear into the drizzling Manchester evening, and knew rebuilding would require bricks forged not from trust, but from the hard, quiet lessons betrayal leaves behind.