Who the hell is that woman, and whats she doing in my kitchen? Emily shouted, hurling her handbag onto the sofa and ready to bolt for a fistfight.
Its Violet, I said calmly, trying not to smile.
Very rude! Emilys face twisted. What is she doing here?
Just as you can see, I replied, inhaling the scent of frying meat patties spreading through the flat. Shes cooking them for us.
Youve had enough of the whitebread, havent you? Emily snapped again. Youve brought a stranger into my kitchen just to fry some patties?
Exactly, I nodded. I got a craving after the sandwich.
Violet peered out of the kitchen doorway.
Oh, look whos here! Finally a hostess appears. Cant even fry a patty for her own husband!
What do you mean cant? I can, Emily retorted, flustered.
I just didnt notice that your husband turned you down when I offered to whip something up for him, Violet said with a smirk. Maybe I can tempt him with something else? He might just agree.
Fine, Ill slice you up with my own hands! Emily roared.
From the look of those dainty fingers, I dont think youll manage any real harm. Youve got your nails polished and your hands all soft! Violet teased. You should be curling your hair, not pretending to be a housewife. Its obvious youve never learned a thing about running a home.
Emily swallowed her anger. Just so you know
Go on, dear lady, Ill give you a patty. Just one, or you wont fit in your business suit! Violet beckoned toward the stove.
Watch it! Emily hissed as she brushed past me. Ill deal with her now and then you better get ready!
Dont mess up my patties! I called after her.
Emily stormed into the kitchen, ready to throw Violet out the door. Violet was already seated at the table, pouring tea into cups.
Would you like a soothing balm? she asked with a smile.
Just you Emily snarled through clenched teeth.
Take it as you wish, Violet shrugged, still smiling. Ill have my tea.
Seriously! Emily let loose a string of profanity.
Mind your tongue, Violet warned. Youve driven Ian to the streets looking for someone to fry his patties?
You can starve a man only if he promises you a miracle diet. Otherwise a man should be fed, clean and loved.
Emily stammered, Um?
Thats why I stepped in, Violet continued. Otherwise hed be out there with his fake curls, ready to fry anything and make a bed.
And you? Emily asked, bewildered, as she perched on a stool.
What do I need? Ive got my own man, Violet said, sipping her tea. I decided to help yours, a regular customer, and keep him safe. He was wandering the streets, looking for someone to fry a patty for him!
Did we meet before? Emily asked suspiciously.
You have a good memory, Violet replied. I work at the butchers under your house. You and Ian are constant customers.
Right! Emily beamed.
Your pockets are deep, Violet quipped. You let a stranger into your kitchen for patties? Thats barely acceptable.
***
Ian and Emily had once been a textbook English family. I worked as a senior lecturer at the university, providing for us, while Emily was on maternity leave.
Shed spent eight years at home, giving birth to three children and feeling content enough to have fulfilled the usual expectations.
I was proud of our sizable, happy household. I was an only child, and I remembered the loneliness of my parents being away at work. I used to dream of having a brother or sister to play with.
In my own family I did everything I could to spare my children the hardships I endured.
We had three kids, and Emily was a fulltime homemaker. Many wondered how I could afford such a large family on a lecturers salary, but the secret was simple luck.
When I turned eighteen, my parents gifted me a cottage in the countryside. It was a nice present, though no one knew what Id do with it. I was still a student and wanted to stay in academia, so the cottage meant little to me.
Around my twentieth birthday the cottage sat empty for two years, then I decided to sell it. I got a good price and handed the proceeds to my friend Arthur, who was keen on starting a business. He used the money wisely, and our venture grew. I became a silent partner, saying, Arthur, you know the trade, just keep the profits coming my way.
The cash started small, but as the business expanded, the income rose. We saved the surplus in a bank account and earmarked it for future big expensescollege fees, a house, cars, weddings.
Thus the family lived comfortably. I taught, researched, and loved my academic life. Emily managed the home, the kids, and me.
Our leisure time was spent together, and our finances allowed us to travel and enjoy fine things.
Everything was smooth until our youngest son turned ten. I hardly felt any change, but Emilys world shifted. She struggled with the idea that the children didnt need her as constantly as before. The void left by the reduced caretaking weighed on her.
One evening she confessed, Ian, Im going mad. I love you and the family, but I feel like Im disappearing.
She went on, Theres a wife, a mother, a housewifenone of those make me happy. Im scared Ill just walk away one day.
I answered, Thats a serious statement. What are you proposing?
She hesitated, then said, I dont know! Its a typical woman thingraise a fuss and then leave the problem to someone else.
I started thinking of hobbies or activities that might distract her from the gloom. Then she surprised me.
I want to start a business, she declared. Weve saved a decent nest egg that earns a modest interest. If I invest some of it, I could either multiply it or lose it, but it wont ruin us.
I mulled it over. Darling, I said, smiling, if you succeed, youll be more than a wife and mumyoull be a businesswoman. And if it fails, at least youll have tried.
Then do whatever you think is right, I said, unable to argue. I had no choice but to support her, though I worried about the risk.
Emily plunged into entrepreneurship, sometimes forgetting we had a family. Only a sharp reminder of her duties as wife, mother, and homeowner pulled her back.
I wasnt a total recluse; I could tidy, cook, and look after the kids, albeit in a typically masculine way. Id do a quick sweep, hide the trash under the rugout of sight, out of mind. The children were mostly independent, needing help only with homework or extra pocket money.
Cooking, however, was my weak point. I could manage simple, hearty meals, but I relied heavily on readymade frozen patties and nuggets. Life, after all, demands compromises.
At the shop, the lady asked why I cant get a proper meal at home, I told the shop assistant. Im busy with the business, so I might as well buy minced meat for patties, even if theyll end up frozen.
Another customer offered to cook for me. Ive been coming here for five years, only buying dumplings, the assistant said, but you never know how to handle a patty.
She eventually offered to swing by at seven, fry some patties, and even help Violet with the till. I accepted, and soon the whole neighbourhood was buying bread, milk, and onions for our impromptu patty feast.
Violet was busy frying my patties, waiting for Emily to return home, eager to have something to say.
***
Mind your business, Violet, Emily warned as she cleared the mess. Your venture is fine, but today you almost got my husband in trouble when you snatched him up at the shop. Thanks for the patties, though.
Im not offended, I replied.
Whats your point? Violet smirked. Hell chase patties today, pies tomorrow, and maybe a stew next week.
Youll end up alone without a man, but at least youre thriving, I muttered.
Emilys business never reached spectacular heights, but it didnt fail outright either. She made a modest profitenough to be grateful for.
If shed kept pushing the venture at the expense of family, she might have grown further, but Violets lesson made her rethink her priorities. Survival alone isnt the goal; a balanced eighthour workday with weekends off was enough for her.
Now Ian no longer roams the streets looking for a woman to fry his patties.