The Secret Behind the Closed Door: A Tale of Betrayal and Rupture
Charlotte returned to her flat in Manchester, weary after a long day. In the hallway, her husband, Edward, greeted her with a tense expression.
“Where have you been?” he snapped, arms crossed.
“At your mother’s. I took her shepherd’s pie and roast beef,” Charlotte replied calmly, slipping off her coat.
“I asked you not to go there!” Edward’s voice was sharp.
“She called and asked me to come,” Charlotte said, startled by his tone.
“What did she tell you?” His words grew colder.
“Nothing unusual,” she shrugged.
“Don’t lie! Did she spill my secret?” he blurted out.
“Secret? What secret?” Charlotte froze, studying his face with growing unease. “What are you talking about?”
Charlotte prepared Sunday dinner in their spacious flat, inherited from her late mother. Beef stew—Edward’s favourite—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire puddings—she packed it all into containers for the week ahead.
Edward had left for his mother’s the day before. He phoned in the evening, saying he’d stay overnight—too late to come home. Charlotte didn’t argue; her mother-in-law was getting older and needed help. She herself had lost her mother seven years ago, and this flat was her sole inheritance. Three bedrooms, in a decent part of town—perfect for their family. Their children, a son and daughter, were grown: the son married, the daughter at university in another city. They visited rarely—work and studies consumed them.
But something had changed lately. Edward had grown distant, brooding. He refused a seaside holiday, though Charlotte thought he was just tired. A trip to the cinema? No. He wouldn’t even go to the shops. He visited his mother more often, sometimes for hours. Charlotte suggested moving her in—there was room—but Edward flared up, insisting they wouldn’t get along. Her mind was going, he said. She’d ruin things.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone. It was her mother-in-law. Odd—she usually called Edward.
“Charlie, love,” came the frail but warm voice. “Haven’t seen you in ages. You wouldn’t be making beef stew, would you?”
“I am,” Charlotte smiled. “Ed adores it.”
“So do I, but it’s too much fuss for me. Fill a Tupperware, let Ed bring it over. He’s probably still asleep?”
“Asleep?” Charlotte frowned. “Is he at yours?”
“No,” the old woman sounded puzzled. “Hasn’t been in weeks. Pops in now and then, then rushes off. Ask him to drop by with your stew.”
“Alright,” Charlotte answered distractedly. “I’ll put it in a flask so it stays warm.”
“Thanks, love. Ed’s lucky to have you.”
Charlotte hung up, a knot forming in her stomach. If Edward hadn’t been at his mother’s, where had he been? Dark thoughts swirled. Maybe he’d lied. Stop it, she told herself. But the dread lingered.
Edward returned.
“Ed, your mum asked you to bring her some stew,” Charlotte ventured.
“What do you mean?” He frowned. “I’ve just been there.”
“She called, asked for stew,” Charlotte repeated, watching him closely.
“I told you not to answer her calls!” he barked. “She repeats everything a hundred times! What else did she say?”
“Nothing,” Charlotte replied, her chest tightening.
“I’ll take it next time,” he muttered. “She’s got a whole pot of the stuff.”
“I see. Go eat.”
“Not hungry. Already ate at Mum’s.”
“Let’s take a walk then, it’s lovely out,” Charlotte suggested.
“Walked enough,” he cut in. “Dragged Mum around the park for three hours. My legs are killing me. Eat without me—I’ll lie down.”
Edward fell asleep almost instantly. Charlotte sat, staring at his sleeping form, her heart heavy with suspicion. His mother said one thing, he another. It was an hour’s drive, but Charlotte resolved to go. She’d take the stew and find out the truth—was his mother really forgetful, or was Edward hiding something? He’d gone to see her alone before, leaving Charlotte at home with chores.
She called a cab and slipped out quietly.
The door opened before she could knock.
“Charlie?” Her mother-in-law looked surprised. “Thought you were Ed.”
“You don’t even ask who’s there?” Charlotte frowned. “What if it were thieves?”
“Who else would come?” the old woman smiled. “Come in. Where’s Ed? Not coming again?”
“He’s busy,” Charlotte said carefully. “I brought stew, some puddings. Have you eaten?”
“Just a bite,” her mother-in-law replied. “You promised Ed would come.”
“Eat up, it’s hot. I brought cream too.” Charlotte moved to the kitchen. “I’ll put the rest in the fridge.”
There was no stew, despite Edward’s claim. The fridge was nearly empty.
“Your fridge is bare,” Charlotte remarked. “Shall I pop to the shops?”
“If it’s no trouble,” the old woman brightened. “Wanted to stroll in the park with a friend, but she’s ill. Fancy keeping me company?”
“Of course,” Charlotte nodded.
The more she saw, the stranger it became. No stew, his mother clearly hadn’t been out, and she spoke clearly, without repetition.
“Glad you came,” her mother-in-law continued. “I could use new shoes. Hate shopping alone.”
“We’ll find some,” Charlotte agreed.
They spent three hours out. Shoes first, then groceries. Charlotte tried to pay, but her mother-in-law refused. They sat on a bench outside the house.
“Time to go,” Charlotte said.
“Come again,” the old woman smiled. “Doesn’t have to be stew. I’ve got savings—Ed’s father left me comfortable. Why doesn’t Ed visit? Upset? He asked me for money, you know. Buying your son a flat?”
“No,” Charlotte was stunned. “They’re taking out a mortgage.”
“That’s what he wanted it for,” she sighed. “I don’t have that much. He’ll get this place when I’m gone—he can do what he likes with it.”
On the ride home, Charlotte’s thoughts whirled. Edward had asked his mother for money? Why hadn’t he told her? Debts? Gambling? Or worse—another woman? He’d been distant, disappearing, lying. At least his mother hadn’t given him the money.
“Where were you?” Edward met her in the hall, eyes blazing.
“I know everything,” Charlotte said quietly. “We need to fix this.”
“Where were you? With a lover?” he shouted. “You’re my wife! The mother of my children! How dare you!”
“What on earth are you on about?” Charlotte was stunned.
“Tell me who you were with! Some young fling? Or an old man with money?”
“Why are you talking about lovers?” Her voice shook.
“You found out about my mistress!” he spat. “I deserve to know too!”
“*What?*” The ground seemed to vanish beneath her.
Her theory about gambling shattered. A mistress? Which was worse—a gambler or a cheat? Her thoughts tangled.
“Laughing?” She clenched her fists. “What’s so funny? You’ve got nobody else?”
“Why would I?” he said coldly. “There was you. Now—just the kids. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Charlotte, wait—” Edward stepped closer. “Think about it. What will the kids say? I’m still your husband. And with her—it’s over.”
“Especially after you didn’t come home,” she snapped.
“I was at Mum’s!”
“I was at your mum’s! You weren’t there!” Charlotte shouted. “Got nothing to say? Pack your things—you’ve got an hour.”
“Where do I go?” He looked lost. “We had a row. It’s complicated. I wanted to buy a flat, but Mum wouldn’t lend me the deposit.”
“You’ve said enough,” Charlotte said coldly. “Well done.”
“Forgive me,” he mumbled. “It’s in the past. Won’t happen again. But you’re partly to blame.”
“*I’m* to blame?” Charlotte choked. “For what? Bad cooking? Putting on weight? I’m fine—look in the mirror! You’ve got fifty minutes left.”
“Where do I go?” His voice cracked.
“To your young, beautiful fling.”
“She’s got a shoebox in a crumbling terrace,” he muttered.
“Happy housewarming,” Charlotte cut in. “Clock’s ticking.”
“She won’t want me without a flat,” Edward pleaded. “Let me stay.”
“No. You’re leaving.”
“I’m on the lease—I’ve got rights!”
“Until court,” she nodded. “YouFor years afterward, Charlotte would sometimes catch a glimpse of him at the market, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast, a ghost of the man she once knew, while she walked on, her steps lighter, her heart free.