What are you doing, feeding my husband like a pet? Have you no conscience? Margaret Whitmore barked, her voice cracking like a whip in the cramped kitchen. First you ripped my only son from my arms, now youre trying to push my husband out! She glared at Thomas Anderson, who stood at the stove, his hands trembling around a ladle.
What good is he to me? Thomas retorted, his face twisted with fatigue. I could feed my own wife and children without his meddling!
Since when have you disliked my cooking? Margaret asked, her tone laced with accusation.
Its fine, Margaret, its just after forty years of the same old stew, Im sick of it! You could at least try a new recipe! Thomas snapped, his eyes flashing.
Youll learn the hard way if you keep turning up your nose at my food, Margaret shot back. Did you ever try Gillys famous ploughmans lunch?
Thomas forced a grin. Ive tasted it, of course. I need to know what feeds my son and my grandchildren!
Liked it? Now you want to argue with your daughterinlaw? Margaret lunged at him, her fury spilling over. We lived peacefully! If only youd have cleaned her pots properly!
I should have experimented with something else, Thomas muttered, trying to sound scholarly. Maybe theres a dash of ambrosia hidden in there?
Whos who? Margaret furrowed her brows.
Youre blind, Margaret! You dont understand any culinary art, which is why you never invite me to family gatherings. You keep me out of the kitchen, and you never let me eat at the village hall either!
And you think I wont starve my own stomach? Ill lock you in the attic, feed you only porridge and water! Margaret threatened, eyes gleaming.
Why are you threatening me? To whom? Thomas snapped, hurt. Youre my own husbands mother! Have a conscience!
And what if I left? Thomas said, his voice low. I could side with my son, tell the whole village I fled because you couldnt feed us properly!
Leave? Hell go, and then youll hear from Galshell be waiting for you, impatient as ever! Margaret hissed. She came to me so I wouldnt let you near her fridge!
They cant afford to keep feeding you, you old fool, so shut up and stay quiet!
Ill keep talking, Thomas declared. She came because I ruined her property, and if I join my son, Ill start sending Gal my wages, not you!
Margaret knew how serious the threat was; shed seen Thomass temper before. If the feud broke out, shed do exactly what she said. Regret might follow, but she wouldnt back down. The dispute had to be settled from the other side.
Fine then, Margaret said, her voice ironclad. Take this credit card and go to London. Buy the cookbook Ive been demanding for you. And youll help me in the kitchen, understand?
Thomass eyes widened. Thats the first step! he whispered, as if a miracle had just unfolded. In three minutes a card was handed over, a ticket punched, and the bus roared toward the capital. We can stop at the station café for a quick bite, Margaret added.
Gal! she shouted toward the halfempty hallway, Come, well argue first, then make peace!
Can we reconcile right away? asked Emily, stepping out into the shared kitchen.
The rules of drama demand a fight first, Margaret shrugged.
Alright then, Emily sighed, rolling her shoulders. Begin!
Margarets tirade echoed through the empty house, for there was no one else to hear. What are you doing, feeding my husband like a stray? Have you no conscience? First you tore my beloved son from my heart, now you try to drive my husband away!
She could speak so loudly because the cottage was empty, and the unwritten law of theatre demanded it.
Emily, as if rehearsed, answered: What good is he to me? Id rather feed my own husband and children. Yet you barged into the fridge, turned it upside down, and forced me to run to the shop. I dont print money!
You should feed your own husband better, so he doesnt keep devouring everything! Im cooking, but youre there with your spoon and fork, making a mess, slurping like a cow!
My husband will come home from his shifthow will I feed him? With love? Thats what Ive done. Two kids, hungry as wolves, banging their spoons on the table!
If I caught that foodtaster redhanded, Id Margarets smile was sharp, reveling in the petty battles with her daughterinlaw, a sort of theatrical duet.
Emily, she said gently, patting a nearby chair, we need to teach my son a lesson!
Your husband, thats for you to decide, Emily replied. Hes my fatherinlaw! If Jack finds out Im hurting his dad, where will the trouble lie?
Youre the villages healer, you know how to keep a man from turning his back on the light! Margaret cooed. Ill be grateful, truly.
I can, Emily nodded. I could even do more, but you sent him off for that cookery book!
So what? Ill keep preparing for him, but I need you to turn him away from your cooking! You came to complain, after all!
Consider this my cover for righteous revengean indulgence, if you will!
Just dont hurt my father too much! Hes a joker, but hes still family.
Alright, Emily conceded. The counterintelligence works. When he gets disgruntled, youll back me up.
And I will, and Ill reward you! Margaret promised.
***
What is a young family? Plenty of love, tenderness, and very little cash! In the city, anyone you ask is a businessman or entrepreneur. Jack and Emily were simple country folk. Jack had trained as a mechanic, fixing tractors and harvesters for the local coop, while Emily ran the village firstaid post, though she was technically a nurse. When Jack returned to his hometown, Emily was posted to a small health cottage, away from the big dairy farm. Thats how they met, over a sprig of grass in the field, and Jack, seeing Emily in her white uniform, asked her to marry him straight away.
Ill walk to you every day until you say yes! If you look at anyone else, I wont even need your help then! he declared. He courted her for a year until Emily finally gave innot because she had to, but because she fell in love. Jack was kind, hardworking, honest, though his pockets werent deep.
They held a proper, noisy wedding. Relatives travelled four days to be there, though a shared carriage would have sufficed. The newlyweds moved into Jacks parents house, and the first question arose:
How will we liveone roof or separate? the new motherinlaw asked.
Why bother? Jacks father blurted. Theyre young, let them have their own place!
And where do we go? Jack asked his father.
Dont bother walking, ThomasJacks fatherlaughed. This house was built for two families. When one left, the walls were knocked down. Restoring them is a trifle. One kitchen, one bathroom out backperfect for two families under one roof.
They settled as they saw fit, though they had to scramble for essentials. Emily had lived in a coop hostel before, so she owned little. The motherinlaw wasnt keen on sharing her savings.
The daughterinlaw should bring a dowry, not dip into the inlaws purse! Margaret warned.
They took a loan for a fridge, a microwave, and a mountain of dishes. Occasionally they bought more, and life went on.
Disputes in the shared kitchen were inevitable, but a little venting kept the peace. Tensions simmered, never boiling overuntil the children turned four and nine.
Emily prepared dinner, then got an urgent call to the neighbouring village. She scribbled a note, wrapped a bowl of buckwheat porridge in a blanket for Jack, and rushed off. When she returned, Jack met her with a complaint:
Do you have any conscience? Work is work, but you cant forget the family! I got home from the farm, collected the kids from school, and we have nothing to eat!
What do you mean nothing? I was cooking! Emily protested.
I dont know what you made, but we opened the fridge expecting sandwiches, only to find a blank voidno ham, no cheese, no butter! Emily, pay attention to the household!
It was suspicious. A week earlier, Emilys pay had arrived, and shed driven to the district centre to stock the fridge, buying expensive cuts of meat and cheeseenough for three days. Yet the pantry was empty when Jack returned.
The culprit seemed clear: the fatherinlaw, who never helped keep the fridge stocked, blamed the daughterinlaw. The blame game escalated, with Thomas shouting, Wheres the evidence? You have none! If it were me, Id be ashamed, not feeding my own family!
Emily retorted, If youd put something in the fridge, we wouldnt be pilfering it!
Thomas sneered, No catch, no crime!
Emily, with tears welling, went to Margaret.
Were not swimming in money, she said. When I try to buy something special for my husband and kids, its for them, not for your husband!
Margaret, ever sharp, replied, If you feel sorry, say it!
Yes, I feel sorry, Emily confessed. I work, Jack works, we have two kids, your grandchildren. And your husbandhes the one who devours everything!
They left, each nursing a wound.
Soon after, Thomas accused Emily of terrible cooking, demanding she learn from his daughterinlaw. Margaret, desperate to curb her sons husband, decided on extreme measures. She thought the young couple should be moved out, because once a man steps into the garden, you cant chase him away; hell just find a new path.
If only vengeance sat on the agenda!
***
If Emily hadnt become a nurse, she would have joined the military, where her strategic mind would have been put to use. As a healer, she could have crafted a curse that no body would survive. She sketched a pentagram on the fridge and proclaimed:
I lay a spell! Anyone who feeds themselves from this fridge without my permission will meet a dreadful fate! Only my husband and our children are exempt!
She lit two candles, burned wormwood, and, for effect, beat a copper basin with a ladle for five minutes.
Thomas crossed himself, spat over his left shoulder, pinned a needle under his shirt, and turned his trousers inside out. In that ridiculous garb, he grabbed the fridge door, devoured a slice of pork, cherry tomatoes, and a mozzarella ball, eyes closed in bliss as a cat basked in the sun.
Nothing will happen to me! he declared smugly.
Sure, mate, Emily replied, eyeing him coldly.
She cleared the enchanted food and cursed, May the goddess of Pharmacology punish you!
Thomas, meanwhile, found a jackpot of pillsan emetic, a laxative, and a stimulant that made the heart race. He thought they might help the old man if trouble struck, though he had no desire to become a widow.
When the side effects began, Thomas staggered to the garden, shouting, What? The soul wont take the bewitched food? I warned you! He then sulked in the sauna, washing his own clothes, muttering about his motherinlaw, his grandmother, and his greatgrandmother. He swore his daughterinlaw came from the same lineGod forbid!
Margaret kept her promise. From somewhere she produced two million pounds and handed it to Emily so she, Jack, and the kids could build their own housepreferably in another village.
And Ill give you more when my savings mature! Margaret added, satisfied that the drama had ended on a hopeful note.
