April 12 My little notebook, the only place I can vent without worrying about the kitchen walls hearing me.
Ive spent the whole morning standing over the stove, halfheartedly stirring a pot that never seems to please anyone. The thought that Im feeding my own sons husband, Nicholas Andrews, keeps circling my mind like a restless sparrow. What are you doing, feeding my man? I heard myself shout earlier, my voice echoing off the copper pans. Youve already taken my only beloved son from my heart, and now you try to steal my husband away! I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks, but the words slipped out anyway.
Nicholas, with his usual sardonic smile, replied, Ive had enough of the same meals for forty years. If you dont open a new cookbook, Ill have to learn the alphabet just to survive your cooking! I wanted to snap back, Ill show you a dish that will make you grateful for learning your letters! and then I could hear the faint whiff of Mrs. Galkinas kitchen drifting in through the open window, reminding me of the only time I ever heard Nicholas complain about my food.
He tried to play it cool. I did taste a spoonful! I need to know what feeds my son and my grandchildren. He asked, halfjoking, halfserious, Did you ever think of trying a different style of cooking? Maybe something with a touch of ambrosia and nectar? I frowned, Who are you talking about? You dont even know the basics of cuisine!
He jabbed back, You never let me attend any family celebrations, lest I eat too well. You keep me out of the friends gatherings, so I cant be fed properly. I wont even go to the local canteen; my stomach is my own enemy. Your daughterinlaws cooking is my only gateway to fine dining!
I clenched my fists. Ill make you a taste of high cuisine youll never forget. Ill lock you in the attic, feed you only watersoaked oats without salt or sugar! I could see the fire in his eyes as he muttered, How dare you threaten me? Ill leave you and side with my son. Ill tell the whole village how you starve me!
He huffed, Youll see, Ill walk out and never look back. And Ill remind everyone that youre a terrible cook! I laughed bitterly, Oh, hell go, will he? Even Galkamy neighbourcant wait to see you off. She came here just to keep you away from her fridge! I added, They dont earn enough to keep you fed, you freeloader, so sit quiet.
Nicholas, ever the stubborn one, declared, Ill keep chirping. She only came because I gave her a financial loss! If I switch to my sons side, Ill be paying Galkas salary, not yours. My wages will finally feed me properly. His threat was serious, and I knew my husbands temperament all too well. If anything, I would see it through.
So I said, Fine then. Take the card, go into townLeedsbuy the cookbook that will finally teach you how to cook for me. And you will actually help me! He brightened, Thats where it starts! Within three minutes he was on his way, card in hand, humming about grabbing a bite at the railway café.
I called out to my sons halfbrother, Galka, lets argue then make up! Galka, stepping into the shared kitchen, asked, Cant we just reconcile straight away? I shrugged, Genre conventions demand a fight first. She sighed, If its required lets begin then.
The quarrel erupted. I shouted, What are you doing, feeding my husband? No conscience! First you ripped my only beloved son from my heart, now you try to ruin my marriage! My voice rang louder because the house was empty; the unwritten rules of drama required it.
Galka tried to defend herself, Whats the point of him? I need a husband and children to feed! You came in, rummaged through the fridge, and I had to run to the shop. I dont print money, you know! She accused us of overfeeding the husband, of letting him eat whatever she prepared while we were away.
Nicholas roared, Where are the proofs? You have none! If you feel sorry for me, feel free. Its not a strangers problem, its a fatherinlaws! Galka retorted, Then why dont you put something in the fridge yourself, instead of stealing? Nicholas muttered, Neither caught nor guilty, Im just hungry.
I, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and spite, whispered, Ill give you a little protection for your righteous revengeconsider it an indulgence. Just dont hurt my dear old father; hes still a joker in my eyes.
Galka agreed, The counterintelligence is on. When he gets displeased, youll back me up, right? I promised, Ill support and reward you.
And so the drama of a young family unfolded: love, tenderness, and a pocket hardly full. In our town, every youngster seems to be a budding entrepreneur, but Harry Whitaker and his wife Emily were simple country folk. Harry had trained as a mechanic, working on tractors and harvesters; Emily ran the local health point, a nurse. When Harry returned to his hometown, Emily was assigned to the nearest clinic, and thats how they met among the rows of seedlings.
Harry courted Emily in his white coat, promising, Ill walk every day until you say yes. If you look elsewhere, even I wont help you. He chased her for a year until she finally gave inwell, fell in love. Their wedding was a loud, joyous affair; relatives travelled four days to be there, squeezing into the same train carriage.
They moved into Harrys parents house. The motherinlawmeasked, How shall we live? All together or each on our own? My husband, Nicholas, replied, Theyre young; let them have their own space. Harry asked his father, Where shall we go? Nicholas chuckled, This house was built for two families. The walls can be knocked down, the kitchen shared, the bathroom a step away. One roof, each with their own lives.
They settled, but the practicalities of running a joint household soon appeared. Emily had lived in a communal hall before, so she owned little. I wasnt keen on sharing my savings. We took a loan for a fridge, a microwave, a mountain of dishes, and occasionally bought more. The shared kitchen became a battlefieldtiny skirmishes, but never a fullblown war. Yet when the kids turned four and nine, a real conflict surfaced.
Emily prepared dinner, then had to rush to a neighboring village for an emergency call. She left a note, wrapped a bowl of buckwheat in a blanket for Harry, and flew off. He met her later, angry: Do you have any conscience? Work is work, but you cant neglect the family! I came home, collected the kids, and theres nothing to eat! Emily, bewildered, replied, I was cooking! He continued, We opened the fridge, hoping for a sandwich, but there was nothingno ham, no cheese, no butter! You should have paid more attention to the household!
The accusations grew. I, the motherinlaw, defended myself, saying, Im feeding my own husband and grandchildren, not yours. Nicholas, feeling insulted, shouted, Wheres your proof? If youre sorry, say it! Emily answered honestly, Im sorry. I work, Harry works, we have two kids, your grandchildren. And you, dear husband, seem to be stuffing them with everything you can find. Is that right?
The argument fizzled, but later the fatherinlawNicholasaccused Emily of poor cooking. He threatened to teach her a lesson, but a lesson felt insufficient. He thought perhaps the young couple should be moved out; after all, once a goat gets into the garden, you cant simply chase it awayit will find another path.
If Emily werent a nurse, she might have joined the armed forces; her strategic mind would have made her a formidable commander. She even drew a pentagram on the fridge and declared, I place a curse! Anyone who feeds themselves from this fridge without my permission will meet a terrible fate! Only my husband and our children are exempt! She lit a couple of candles, tossed some mugwort, and even drummed a copper basin with a ladle for effect.
Nicholas, halfserious, halfmocking, crossed himself, spat over his left shoulder, twisted a pin under his shirt, and turned his trousers inside out. He seized the fridge door, gulped a slice of ham, chewed a handful of cherry tomatoes, tossed a mozzarella ball into his mouth, and smiled with the content of a cat basking in sunlight. Nothing will happen to me, he proclaimed. Emily watched him with a cold stare, Well see about that, she thought, removing the charged food and muttering, May the goddess of pharmacy punish you.
In the end, Nicholas suffered a bout of nausea, but survived. Emily, watching him stumble, said, You didnt heed the warning, did you? He laughed it off, showered himself with steam in the bath, and kept muttering about his motherinlaw, his wife, and the family line.
Finally, I kept my promise. I dug up two thousand pounds from my savings and handed them to Emily so she, Harry, and the children could start building their own homepreferably in another village. When my deposit matures, Ill add more, I added, feeling a strange mixture of triumph and regret.
Looking back, I realise how petty the feud was. Still, this diary is the only place I can lay it all out, raw and honest. Perhaps tomorrow Ill finally open that new cookbook and learn to make something that even Nicholas cant complain about. For now, Ill close the notebook, turn off the kettle, and hope the silence of the kitchen will finally bring some peace.
