The icing on the birthday cake was being brought home by Barry. Shortly after 10 o’clock, Lucy insisted everyone left because the children were tired. She then ordered her husband to drive Ellie home while she took the children. For the entire journey, Barry talked about a successful souffle, interspersed, she vaguely recalled, with comments about a man who bored him at work. Dear God, thought Ellie, if Barry said the man was boring, he must be a corpse.

 

She had tried to be civil to her children, but when the subject of their father and separation came up, they both pointed the finger at her. She must be loyal to him, they suggested.

 

‘Loyal! For pity’s bloody sake. What loyalty did he ever show?’ had been her angry response. ‘And where do you get these archaic ideas about marriage? Certainly not from me. I’m the poor so-and-so who put up with him! No more, no longer, no way!’

 

Sometimes she doubted herself, but his defence of his behaviour was always amusing. Latterly, he’d huffed and puffed as usual and made weird and fanciful excuses. On the last occasion, when Ellie finally threw him out of the marital home, he’d blamed her, suggesting she didn’t show enough interest in him and might tolerate his mistresses.

 

‘You’re a shit.’ She’d said it in a calm and collected manner. ‘Actually,’ she continued, looking straight at him, ‘you’re such a big shit that if it was a medical condition, you’d be a morbidly obese piece of shit.’

She was deep in such thoughts when she her phone rang. She looked down at the screen. It was 7.30. Then she saw the caller’s name. ‘Shit,’ she whispered. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

 

She swiped the screen. ‘Hello dear. You’re early this morning.’

‘Fairly early, I’m afraid, Mother. Had to call you. Been a bit of trouble. Lucy and I are at the factory,’ blurted Michael. ‘Dad’s here too.’

‘That’s nice for you. Breakfast meeting?’

 

There was a momentary silence before her son said: ‘A fire. There’s been a fire.’

‘Oh dear. Is anyone hurt?’

 

‘Hurt? Hurt? No, of course not. But we’ve lost stock and there’s some damage to the store area. Luckily, it out before it spread.’

Ellie considered his statement for a moment. ‘How much stock?’

‘Three full pallets. And smoke damage to a wall.’

‘Three full pallets and a smoky wall.’ Ellie could barely believe she’d bothered to repeat the information. ‘How did it start?’

 

‘A plug. Faulty wiring perhaps.’

This is painful, thought Ellie. ‘What was on the end of the plug, dear?’

‘Not sure, because of the damage.’ There was a pause. ‘I think it was a sandwich maker. But things are bad, whatever it was. It’s a disaster.’

 

Ellie raised her eyes to the ceiling and then slowly rubbed the side of her face. Her son’s ability to turn everything into a drama never ceased to amaze her.

‘A what?’ Ellie sighed deeply and then quickly continued: ‘Forgive me Michael if I’ve misheard you - and I’m quite willing to accept my hearing’s not what it used to be - but if you said “sandwich maker” then I’m stumped. Completely stumped. Who uses a bloody sandwich maker in the factory? And just how disastrous are three pallets and a small portion of smoky wall?’ There was a long pause, so she prompted her son. ‘Michael, can you give me some help here?’

 

‘It’s Dad,’ Michael blurted. ‘He’s sleeping here. No where else for him to go under the circumstances.’

Ellie smiled. ‘He’s sleeping there,’ Ellie said. This was a late birthday present. ‘Has Mrs No Knickers kicked him out by any chance?’

 

Michael sounded cross. ‘If you’re being rude and mean Christine, then yes, there is a temporary problem… just a blip, Dad says.’

‘It’s just a blip, and he’s sleeping at the factory? Can’t he book into a hotel?’

‘He doesn’t want to be on his own in a hotel and has no-where else to go.’

‘He has no children?’

 

‘Mother, be reasonable. Linda and I have busy lives. Lucy and Barry have busy lives. We both have children.’

‘But you have room? And so do I. Have children, I mean, not a room. No room at all… not for him.’

 

‘But mother…’ her son protested.

‘Sorry Michael, no, no, no. Besides, I’m enjoying life on my own and don’t want it spoiled by a Mrs No Knickers’ cast off.’

‘But he’s in shock.’

 

‘About being kicked out, or the ruined toasty?’

‘Please don’t be so flippant, Mother. You know what I mean.’

‘Actually Michael, I don’t. And both you and Lucy have room for him.’

Michael changed the subject. ‘What do you mean? You enjoy being on your own? How?’

 

Ellie thought how best to shock her puritanical son and said: ‘I’ve taken lovers. Five, I think it was at the last count. One for each day of the week, with weekends off for inappropriate behaviour. But sometimes I save the days and have them all on a Friday. We’re having a wonderful time.’

 

‘Doing what?’

Oh God, thought Ellie. How can a grown man ask such a dumb question?

Ellie ignored him and added sarcastically: ‘Ask him to fill in the accident book and damaged stock record first thing in the morning.’

‘Who?’

 

‘Your father. Bye, bye my dear.’ Ellie ended the call and went to back to the wardrobe. She needed to choose something bright to wear, something to lighten her mood. For several minutes, she simply stood still and decided there was indeed a God, and he’d chosen to make her husband’s life a misery. Looking up to the ceiling, whispered: ‘Thank you.’

 

Ellie was still wrestling with her choice of clothes when the phone rang again. This time, it was Lucy. Ellie spoke first. ‘Hello dear.’

‘Michael’s very upset.’

‘About what?’

‘What you said and how you said it?’

‘What did I say?’

 

‘That one of us should have Dad to stay, that you were pleased he’d had a row with Christine, and that we were selfish.’

‘I can’t remember anything specifically about being selfish, but I’ll not argue the point…’

 

‘And that,’ interrupted Lucy, ‘you have men there. You know Michael doesn’t like you talking about other men.’

‘But what if I do? What if there are? And how about you encourage your brother to act his age?’ Ellie was becoming agitated.

 

There was silence, so she continued: ‘Please don’t keep telling me what you think I should say or be doing. That’s all I ever had from your father. And please don’t speak to me as though all this is my fault, or that I should feel sorry for him. I don’t, never did, and never will. Is there anything else we need to discuss or can further instalments of Toastygate wait till later?’

‘Pardon?’ Lucy sounded puzzled.

 

‘Toastygate dear. Oh, you’re too young. Google Watergate. Bye Lucy.’ And for a second time, she broke off a call with one of her children.

​

Ellie postponed choosing clothes to wear and headed downstairs to make coffee instead. There were several unopened presents on the kitchen table. Barry must have carried them for her, she thought. She made no move to open them, but she remembered the small package Megan had given her. She spotted it next to her open handbag on the kitchen table. Why was her bag open? A neatly wrapped package grabbed her attention. It made her smile.

​

Little swirls of ribbon tied in the shape of a heart. No matter how chaotic Megan’s life had become, she was still the best gift wrapper of all time. She gently removed the paper to reveal a small, lidded box. As she opened it and pulled away a layer of soft, coloured paper, she caught her breath. ‘Oh Megan, oh darling Megan. You can’t do this.’

Ellie slumped into a kitchen chair. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she stared at her gift until the telephone stirred her. It was Michael again. She wiped her tears from her cheeks as she spoke.

‘Hello dear – again - it’s a busy day, isn’t it?’ She was obviously going to repel a few attacks.

 

Michael was in no mood for pleasantries. ‘We’ve been up half the night trying to sort this fire out and Dad’s not slept,’ he snapped. ‘Really Mum, I think you should have taken more interest. And perhaps offered Dad a bed? It’s not his fault he’s having to sleep at work.’

 

‘Then whose fault is it? And if it’s such a straightforward decision for me to make, why hasn’t he called me instead of doing his usual and using you and Lucy as messengers?’

 

‘We think you could have been more charitable under the circumstances. A fire’s not an everyday occurrence, is it?’ Michael retorted.

 

‘We? Who’s we? Is that all three of you? Or you and Linda? Is it just you and Lucy? Or is Barry on the committee as well? Or perhaps all your friends who were at the party last night?’ she asked quietly. ‘Do the grandchildren get a vote as well?’

 

Michael ignored her. ‘The fact is Mum that you have plenty of room and it wouldn’t be for long, and after all…’ Ellie cut in.

 

‘Has someone made you and Lucy homeless, Michael? I suspect not. So, look after your father for a little while and perhaps Mrs No Knickers will take him back soon. I hope so because you may need more stock space at any time.’

Michael didn’t give up. ‘Why won’t you help the man you lived with for nearly 35 years? This is his hour of need. I really don’t understand your attitude. None of us do.’

 

‘Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?’ She paused briefly before she continued. ‘I wouldn’t hand your father a glass of water if his private parts were on fire, never mind his toasty maker. And on that pleasant thought, I’m afraid I must go.’ Then she added impulsively, ‘I’ve just remembered. I have someone coming to view the house. Love to all.’

 

Ellie ended the call. Strike three. She sat, reflecting on her statement that someone was coming to look at the house. God, that would put the fox amongst the bloody chickens, she thought. She felt a smile spread across her face; she would call the estate agents as soon as they opened.

 

She headed upstairs for a shower and 20 minutes later, wrapped in a towelling robe and her hair hanging loose and wet, Ellie made another cup of coffee and sat in her favourite chair in the conservatory, gazing out across her well cared for garden.

 

Her phone rang again. This time, it was Lucy.

‘Hello dear, it’s like telephone tennis this morning,’ said Ellie, trying to be as pleasant as she could be. ‘I’m guessing Michael’s called you, rather cross that his mother won’t take in his errant father. He really needs to get a grip on the problems in this family. He rather thinks I’m to blame for everything.’

 

Lucy was obviously a coiled spring. ‘What’s this about selling our home?’

Silently, Ellie counted to three before answering. ‘It’s not your home. It’s mine. You and Barry have your own house, and Michael and Linda have one as well. The one I’m in is mine. Apparently, your father is homeless; in fact, he’s squatting in my factory. But you all have homes of your own, even if your father owns nothing.’

 

‘What do you mean, Dad owns nothing?’ Lucy almost screamed at her mother. ‘Why is it your factory? It belongs to the business.’

‘Actually… yes, technically, you’re right. It belongs to the company, which is owned and controlled by me, but that’s for another time and day. All will become clear to everyone.’ Ellie was quite calm.

 

‘I can’t make head nor tail of what you’re on about mum. And what about selling the family home.?’

‘Who said I was selling my home?’

‘You told Michael you were.’

 

‘I didn’t – I said someone was coming to value it.’ Ellie’s voice was calm while her daughter was losing her cool.

‘Mum!’ she shouted back. ‘If that doesn’t mean you’re selling, what the hell does it mean?’

‘It means that someone’s coming to look at it and tell me how much it’s worth.’

 

‘Why do you need to know if not to sell it?’ snapped Lucy.

‘I need to know how much it’s worth so that I can plan what I’m going to do.’

‘What the hell do you mean, Mum? Plan? Plan what? Surely, you’re going to stay where you are.’

 

‘Why dear? Why do you presume I want to stay here?’

Lucy wasn’t listening. ‘Anyway, you can’t just sell it. Not without Dad’s permission.’ She sounded triumphant.

 

Ellie was now finding it harder to remain calm. ‘I know. I ask a lot of questions and for that, I apologise. But why do I need your father’s permission?’

 

‘Joint ownership – it’s the law.’

‘Yes, it is. You’re quite right. But that only applies with joint ownership. I can sell my home if I wish.’ Ellie’s calm mood evaporated and before her daughter could come back at her, she added: ‘You know Lucy, you and Michael should really stop judging me and presuming your father is always right. You’ve done it for years. I know how he brain-washed you both…’

 

‘Mum that’s unfair…’

‘Don’t interrupt me!’ Ellie shouted. ‘Just stop. I’ve put up with being interrupted and ignored for years, so just, for once, listen to me. There’s always more to these things than meets the eye, Lucy. But you – and Michael – just refuse to listen. You have done since the day you were both born. So why don’t you ask him why I can’t sell my own bloody house? Eh, why not, just for once, start a conversation with him thinking that your mother might be in the right. Just for once. Just bloody once. Is that too much for me to ask?’

 

‘Mum…’ began Lucy.

Ellie ended the call. That made it four. She could feel her whole body shaking. What a mess, she thought, and how could I have been so stupid? He’s robbed me, not only of much of my money, but of the love of my children. She calmed a little. I’m not a vengeful person, she told herself, but there comes a time when you really must stand up for yourself.

 

A little later, Ellie spent more time than usual preparing her hair, pulling it taught into a ponytail, applying makeup, and choosing her clothes. While she dressed, she tried calling her sister, but there was no reply. She left a simple message. ‘Thank you. Speak soon. Loves ya.’

 

Dressed in a sweater, jeans, and coat, she went downstairs. Ignoring the pile of unopened birthday gifts on the kitchen table, she grabbed her handbag and keys and left the house to drive the few miles to the nearby town. She drove faster and with more urgency than usual.

 

She was wearing the gift from Megan, a precious bracelet.