The phone went silent. Emily stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding it to her chest with both hands. Aunt Gail had spoken for exactly four minutes – dry, businesslike, not a single tear.
Daniel was on the sofa. The TV muttered quietly in the background. He didn’t even turn around when Emily appeared in the doorway.
“Daniel. Aunt Gail called. Mum died an hour ago.”
He nodded. Ran his finger across his phone screen – scrolling through something, didn’t matter what.
“Right. Sorry.”
“I need to go. Right now. Two hours’ drive. Give me the car keys.”
Daniel put his phone down. Not because he cared – because he heard “car keys.” He looked up at her with mild annoyance, like she’d asked him to move a wardrobe.
“No. I need the car. Mum asked me to take her to Aunt Gina’s. I promised her last week.”
Emily didn’t move. The light from the kitchen fell behind her, leaving her face in shadow.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard. But she’s already dead. What’s the rush? Take the bus tomorrow, you’ll get there. My mum’s alive. She’s waiting. I promised.”
One second. Two. Three.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Absolutely. I’m not letting my mum down.”
Emily walked into the room. Stood right in front of the TV – so Daniel couldn’t look past her. He had to lift his eyes.
“I’ll ask you once. One time. Think about what you just said. Then answer again.”
“Emily, don’t make a scene. I explained. Mum’s waiting, I promised. Your funeral’s not going anywhere overnight.”
“My funeral,” she repeated slowly.
“Well, the funeral. You know what I mean. Go tomorrow. They’ll sort everything without you – your aunt’s there, neighbours.”
Emily leaned in a little closer.
“Do you understand this is the last time I’ll ask you for anything? Not the second, not the third. The last.”
“For God’s sake, Emily. You always make a mountain out of a molehill. One day! You wait one day. Nothing’s going to collapse. Mum asked – I’m going. End of.”
“My mum died, Daniel. Yours is going for tea.”
“Don’t twist it. She’s been planning this for ages, Gina’s expecting her. I gave my word. You want me to break my promise?”
“I want you to remember who you live with. And what this day means to me.”
“I remember. But priorities are priorities. The living come first.”
Emily straightened up. Looked at him as if she were memorising his face. Not with hatred. With something final.
“Fine,” she said.
That “fine” came out flat. No hurt. No drama. No shake. Daniel didn’t notice – he was already reaching for the remote.
*
Emily went into the hallway. Opened the top drawer of the dresser – the one Daniel hadn’t opened once in seven years. Took out a thick folder with a clasp: her passport, the deeds to the flat, the car’s logbook, bank statements. Everything in her name. Packed it in her bag.
Took both sets of car keys off the hook. Put on her coat. Slipped on her shoes.
“Where are you going?” Daniel called from the living room.
“To say goodbye to my mum.”
“In what? I told you – I need the car!”
Emily opened the front door. Daniel was already in the hallway – barefoot, remote in hand, with that ridiculous look of an offended owner.
“The car’s registered to me. Always has been. The flat too. When I get back, the lock will be changed. Your stuff will be by the door. Pick it up yourself, or I’ll throw it out.”
“What are you on about?”
“I’m not on about anything. I’m telling you. Clearly. Once.”
“Emily, stop. Stop! You can’t just…”
“Daniel. My mum died. And you told me you needed the car more – to take yours to her sister’s for tea. That’s all I needed to hear. There’s nothing left between us. Pack your things.”
The door closed. The lock clicked. The front door downstairs slammed. A minute later he saw from the window as she got behind the wheel – calm, no fuss, no looking back. Started the engine. Drove out of the yard. Didn’t even glance up.
Daniel stood in the middle of the hallway. Dialled her number – long rings, no answer. Sent a text: “Bring the car back. Are you insane?” Read. Silence. Another: “Stop being childish. Mum’s waiting, I need to go.” Read. Silence.
Twenty minutes later his own mum rang.
“Daniel, when are you picking me up? Gina’s already set the table.”
“There’s a situation, Mum. Emily took the car.”
“Took it? It’s your car!”
“Technically… it’s in her name.”
“So what? You’re the husband! Tell her to bring it back!”
“She’s not answering. I’ll call you back.”
He sat on the sofa. Walked around the flat. Everything looked the same – furniture, curtains, shelves. But Emily had taken the documents, the keys and herself. The three things everything depended on.
His phone rang. Emily. He grabbed it.
“Emily! Finally. Listen, let’s not…”
“Shut up,” she said. Quiet and short, like a click. “I’ll say this once. The flat belongs to me. Grandma left it, paperwork in my name – you know that perfectly well. I bought the car before the marriage. The money in my account is mine – you didn’t save a single pound in seven years. In the pocket of your jacket there’s twenty quid – enough for a taxi for your mum. Tight, but it’ll do.”
“Emily, wait…”
“I’m changing the lock today. I’ll ask the neighbour, Jenny, to let the locksmith in. Your stuff will be packed. It’ll sit by the door. Two days. Then it goes in the bin.”
“You have no right…”
“I have every right. Every piece of paper. Every signature. It’s all mine. And in seven years you never even bothered to put the kettle in your own name.”
“That’s low!”
“Low is telling your wife she doesn’t need to go bury her mother. Because you need the car to drive yours for tea. That’s low. I’m just taking what’s mine.”
Silence on the line lasted four seconds.
“Emily, I overstepped. I’m an idiot, I blurted it out. Let’s talk properly when you get back.”
“I’m not coming back to you. We’re done. Don’t call again.”
Dial tone.
Daniel sat there with the phone in his hand. Dialled again – number not available. Again – same. She’d blocked him.
He felt in his jacket pocket. Two crumpled notes – a tenner and a tenner. She’d worked it out – exactly enough for a taxi to Aunt Gina’s and back. Not a penny more.
His bank account was empty – he checked. Other accounts – zero. He’d never bothered. He’d always lived off what Emily gave him. The flat – hers. The car – hers. The money – hers. He’d lived in someone else’s home for seven years and never once thought about it.
His mum was waiting by the front door. A small figure in a green coat, carrying a bag of treats for her sister. The taxi stopped, she got in, looked around the cab.
“A taxi? Seriously? Where’s the car?”
“Emily has it.”
“So go get it!”
“She drove off in it. For good.”
His mum was quiet. Stared at the back of the front seat.
“What do you mean, for good?”
“Just that. She left. Said I’ve got two days to get my stuff. She’s changing the lock tonight.”
“Over what?”
“Over me telling her not to go to the funeral. Said I needed the car more.”
His mum turned to him. Her eyes weren’t regretful. Just lost. She couldn’t see how a request for a lift to her sister’s could turn into a disaster.
“Well, that was a stupid thing to say, Daniel.”
“I didn’t think she’d react like that…”
“You should have thought! A woman’s mother just died, and you tell her to wait? Were you out of your mind?”
“You asked me to drive you!”
“I asked you to drive me. I didn’t ask you to stop your wife going to the funeral! That was all your idea!”
The taxi moved through the city. The meter ticked. Daniel watched the numbers grow – every pound nibbling at his last money. When the car stopped outside Aunt Gina’s house, the meter showed eight pounds. The return trip would be another eight. Leftover – four quid. For food. Maybe. For one day.
His mum got out. Turned around. The bag of treats was crumpled in her hands.
“And now where are you going?”
“To yours. If you’ll have me.”
“I’ve got one bedroom and a kitchen, Daniel. A camp bed in the cupboard.”
“Then the camp bed.”
She shook her head. Walked to the front door. It closed behind her.
Daniel stood on the pavement. In his pocket – twelve pounds in loose change and crumpled notes. On his card – nothing. Behind him – a city where he no longer had a single square metre.
He pulled out his phone. Dialled Emily’s number. Long rings. Then a robotic voice: “The number you called is not available.”
He put the phone away. Looked at his hands – empty. Just like everything else.
And Emily, meanwhile, was standing in the middle of her mother’s flat. Aunt Gail on one side, neighbours behind. She was doing what she had to do. Saying goodbye. Because for her, the dead deserved no less respect than the living. And certainly more than a husband who, after seven years, still had no idea who he’d been living with.