Whos that, and whats she doing here? Alice shouts, flinging her handbag onto the sofa and preparing to rush at the intruder.
Its Vera, Ian replies, trying to sound casual.
Really? Thats unacceptable! The anger is plain on her face. What is she doing in my kitchen?
As you can see, Ian says, inhaling the scent that fills the flat. Shes frying meatballs.
Youve got a taste for whitebread, havent you? Alice snaps again. Youve brought a stranger into my kitchen just to cook meatballs?
Exactly, Ian nods. Ive suddenly craved a few meatballs after the sandwich.
Vera peeks in from the kitchen doorway.
Oh, look whos here! Ive found the lady of the house! Cant even manage a meatball for her own husband?
Youre saying you cant? Alice asks, stunned. Of course I can!
Vera smiles. I didnt realise your husband turned you down when I offered to whip something up for him. Maybe I could tempt him with something else? Perhaps hell agree.
Then Ill shred you into tiny pieces with my own hands! Alice threatens.
Looking at those delicate fingers, I see no danger, Vera retorts. Your nails are manicured, your hands covered in cream!
You should be curling your own hair and pretending to be important. Its obvious youve never been taught a thing about running a house!
Alice swallows her fury. Just so you know
Come on, lady, Ill give you a meatballjust one, so it fits into your business suit! Vera beckons toward the kitchen.
Fine, youll be the one who gets a kick in the teeth! Alice says, passing her husband. Ill deal with you now, then you can get ready.
Dont waste my meatballs! Ian calls after her.
Alice storms into the kitchen, determined to throw the brazen intruder out. Vera is already seated at the table, pouring tea into mugs.
A soothing balm, perhaps? Vera asks with a smile.
Just you, Alice hisses through clenched teeth.
Whatever you like, Vera shrugs, still smiling. Ill have my own splash!
You really! Alice lets out a string of profanity.
Enough of that! Vera snaps. Youve driven your husband to the streets, begging anyone to fry him a meatball?
You can starve a man only if he promises to lose weight for you. Otherwise he should be wellfed, clean, and loved.
Alice cant answer.
Good thing I intercepted him. He was out there with his chemicallystyled hair, ready to fry meatballs, make the bed, and everything else.
What about you? Vera asks, sitting on a stool.
Do I need that? Vera smirks, sipping her tea. I have my own husband. I thought Id help you, a regular client, out.
And keep yours safe! He was wandering the streets, looking for someone to fry meatballs for him!
Hes a fine sort of man, would have been perfect for you, but I saved him for you!
Did we meet before? Alice asks suspiciously.
Your memorys terrible, Vera laughs. I work at the butchers shop under your house. You and your husband are regular customers!
Right! Alice brightens.
Your pockets full of cash! Vera retorts. Youve let your husband into your kitchen for a strangers meatballs? Is that normal now?
—
Ian and Alice once had a classic British household. He earned a living, and Alice was on maternity leave.
She spent eight years at home, raising three children and feeling satisfied with that role.
Ian was happy with their big, happy family. He was an only child and remembered well the loneliness when his parents were at work.
He used to dream, If only I had a brother or a sister, wed have fun together!
In his own family, Ian did everything he could to spare his children from his own childhood woes.
First, they had three kids; second, Alice was a stayathome mum, always at home.
People wondered how Ian could support such a large family. He taught at a university, and university salaries arent huge.
His financial stability didnt come from shady schemes, but from plain luck.
For his eighteenth birthday, Ians parents gave him a cottage. He didnt know why they bought it, but they did.
Ian, however, was studying at university and wanted to stay on as a lecturer. The cottage held no appeal for him.
Two years later, just before his twentieth birthday, the cottage sat empty. Ian decided to sell it.
He sold it for a good price and handed the proceeds to his friend Mark, who was starting a business.
Mark used the money wisely and the venture grew. Ian became a silent partner, never really involving himself in the details.
Mark, you know this, so run it for me! Just send my share of the profit to my account, Ian said.
The business started small, but income rose as it expanded. Eventually, there was enough money to cover everything and some was saved.
Put it towards something big, Ian would smile. The kids will need it for education, houses, cars, weddings.
Thus the family lived comfortably and harmoniously. Ian lectured, did research, and loved his academic life.
Alice managed the home, the children, and Ian.
Leisure time and outings were always together, funded by their steady income.
Everything went smoothly until the youngest son turned ten.
Ians routine didnt change, but Alice began to feel a mental strain. She struggled with the idea that the children no longer needed her constant care.
The time she used to devote to them became an empty void, and the children, now more independent, often asked for privacy.
Alice felt a hollow growing inside her. It ate away at her.
Ian, Im losing my mind, I cant keep going like this, she declared one evening. I love you, I love our family, but I feel myself disappearing.
Theres a wife, a mother, a housewife, but not a happy woman, she confessed. Im scared Ill just walk out one day.
Thats a serious statement, Ian replied. What do you propose?
She wasnt sure herself. I dont know, she admitted, a typical feminine protest, making a scene before dumping the problem on someone else.
Ian started brainstorming hobbies and activities that might distract her from the gloom.
Then Alice surprised him even more.
I want to start a business, she announced. We have savings that earn a modest interest. If I invest a portion, I could either multiply it or lose it, but it wont ruin us.
Ian thought for a moment. Darling, Alice said, smiling warmly, if I succeed, Ill be a wife, a mum, and a businesswoman. If I fail, Ill just know its not for me, and I wont spend my whole life wondering what if.
Do as you think best, Ian agreed.
He had no choice but to support her. The only question was how shed run the venture, and the risk of disaster loomed.
Alice plunged into the business, forgetting she also had a family. Only urgent needs reminded her she was still a wife, mother, and head of the household.
Ian, though a lecturer and researcher, wasnt a total recluse. He could clean, cook, and watch the kids, but his skills were stereotypically masculine.
When cleaning, he was halfhearted; if dirt wasnt obvious, hed ignore it. Trash left on the kitchen floor could be swept under the rug out of sight, out of mind.
The children were largely selfsufficient, needing help only with homework or a little pocket money.
Cooking, however, was Ians weak point. He wasnt a chef, just a man who could put together simple, filling meals, often relying on frozen meatballs and nuggets.
At the local shop, he told the cashier, Im craving a proper homecooked dish, not the frozen stuff I make myself.
The shop assistant replied, Your wife could do it, if she were home. Shes at work, you know.
A fellow shopper offered, Let me make something for you! Im a good cook.
The assistant sighed, Ive seen you for five years, you only ever buy dumplings. Do you even know how to handle meatballs?
The shopper retreated, and the assistant said to Ian, Can you wait until seven? I close then, but I can pop in and fry you some meatballs. My husbands away, so Ive got nothing to do at home. Ill feed you.
Ian imagined the homecooked meatballs he hadnt tasted in three years and agreed. He helped Vera at the till around half past six, then they bought the remaining ingredientsbread, milk, onionsfrom the next shop.
Soon enough, Vera was frying meatballs for Ian, waiting for his own wife to return home. She had plenty to say.
—
Watch your business, Vera, she warned while tidying up. Your venture might be fine, but you almost got Ians husband taken away today! You caught him in the act and fed him meatballs, so dont hold a grudge.
Im not offended, Alice replied.
Whats my grievance? Vera teased. Today he fell for meatballs, tomorrow pastries, then maybe a stew. Youll end up without a man, but youll have a decent husband.
Thanks, Alice muttered, subdued.
Alices business never became a fairytale success, but it didnt collapse either. She broke even, making enough profit to be grateful for.
If shed kept pushing, ignoring family, she might have reached higher, but Veras lesson forced her to rethink priorities.
If survival were at stake, she might have kept fighting, but an eighthour workday with two days off was enough for her sense of worth.
Now Ian no longer wanders looking for other women to feed him meatballs.
