Another woman is frying meatballs for my husband!
Whos that and what is she doing here? Evelyn shrieked, dropping her handbag and bracing for a clash.
Its Mabel, James replied, his voice oddly calm.
Ridiculous! she snapped, her face twisting. What on earth is she doing?
As you can see, James said, inhaling the scent that swirled through the flat. Shes cooking meatballs!
Have you gone off your rocker? Evelyn roared again. Youve invited a stranger into my kitchen just to fry a few patties?
Exactly! James nodded. Ive got a sudden craving for meatballs after that last pint.
From the kitchen doorway Mabel peered out.
Oh dear, Ive arrived! Looks like Im the hostess now. Cant even manage a single meatball for my own husband!
What do you mean, cant? I could do it any time! Evelyn retorted, flustered.
I just didnt notice that your husband turned you down when I offered to whip something up for him, Mabel said with a sly grin. Maybe I should suggest something else, eh? Perhaps hell agree.
Ill tear you to bits with my own hands! Evelyn spat.
Your dainty fingers arent a threat to me, Mabel cooed. Youve polished your nails, dabbed on creamlooks like youre more interested in primping than in any domestic work!
You need to curl your own hair and pretend youre important, then, Mabel continued. Its obvious youve never been taught the art of housekeeping.
Yes, I, Evelyn choked on her anger. Just so you know
Off you go, lady with the business head injury, and Ill get you a meatball! Only one, though; you wont fit it into your powersuit, Mabel beckoned toward the stove.
Youre finished! Evelyn said, slipping past her husband. Ill sort this out, then you better be ready.
Dont waste my meatballs! James called after her.
Evelyn stormed into the kitchen, determined to hurl the intruder out. She was ready to fling the brazen woman into the hallway.
But Mabel was already seated at the table, pouring tea into delicate cups.
A soothing balm for the nerves? Mabel asked, smiling.
Just you, Evelyn hissed through clenched teeth.
Very well, Mabel shrugged, Ill have a splash for myself!
You really! Evelyn erupted, letting a few colourful curses slip out.
Dont you have a tongue? Mabel retorted, straightening. Youve driven your husband to wander the streets looking for someone to fry his meatballs.
The only way to starve a man is if he promises to lose weight and never keeps it, Mabel declared. Otherwise a man should be full, clean, and loved.
Evelyn mumbled an indecipherable response.
Thats why I intercepted him! He was out there with a synthetic perm, ready to fry meatballs, make a bed, and everything else!
What about you? Mabel asked, perching on a stool.
Do I need that? Mabel smirked, sipping tea. Ive got my own husband. I thought Id do a favour for yours, a regular client.
Ive saved yours from prowling the streets for a meatballmaker!
Looks like weve met before, Evelyn said suspiciously.
Your memory is sharp! Mabel laughed. I work at the butchers shop under your house. You and James shop there all the time.
Exactly! Evelyn beamed.
Pocketful of profit! Mabel retorted. Youve let your husband into your kitchen for a strangers meatballs is that normal now?
—
At first James and Evelyn lived a textbook British family. He earned a steady salary as a university lecturer, while Evelyn was on maternity leave.
She spent eight years at home, raising three children, and felt content with having fulfilled the usual programme.
James was delighted with their sizeable, happy household. He was an only child and remembered well the loneliness of his parents being away at work.
He once dreamed, If only I had a brother or sister, wed have so much fun together!
In his own family, James did everything he could to spare his children the doldrums hed known.
Three kids, a stayathome mum that was the picture. Many wondered how James managed to support such a large clan, especially on a lecturers pay. The secret, hed say, was plain luck.
For his eighteenth birthday, Jamess parents gifted him a country cottage. No one knew why they gave it, but it was there.
James, intent on staying at the university, cared little for the cottage. Two years later, just before his twentieth, it sat empty. He sold it for a tidy sum and handed the proceeds to his friend Archie, who used the money to launch a startup.
Archies venture flourished, and James became a silent partner.
Archie, leave the numbers to me, yeah? James would say, Just slot my share into the account.
Initially the profits were modest, but they grew with the business. Eventually there was enough to set aside for big expenses childrens education, a first flat, a car, a wedding.
Thus the family lived comfortably, with James researching, lecturing, and Evelyn tending to home and children. Their leisure was shared, their finances allowing for pleasant holidays.
Everything ran smoothly until the youngest son turned ten.
Jamess routine remained unchanged, but Evelyn felt a creeping emptiness as her children grew independent. The vacuum where she once poured all her energy now gaped.
Im losing myself, she confessed one evening. I love you, I love our family, but Im dissolving.
Theres Evelyn the wife, mother, housewife but not the happy woman, she admitted, fearing she might simply walk away.
James listened. Thats a serious statement. What do you propose?
She hesitated, then blurted out, I want to start a business! She explained that their savings earned a modest interest, and she could risk a portion without endangering the family.
James considered. Darling, he said gently, if you succeed, youll be more than a wife and motheryoull be a businesswoman. If you fail, at least youll know it wasnt for lack of trying.
He gave his blessing.
Evelyn dove into entrepreneurship, neglecting the home at times, until the pressure of her dual roles snapped her back to reality.
James, though an academic, could still mop the floor, fix a leaky tap, and look after the kids when needed. His approach was typically malestereotyped: a quick tidy here, a sweptundertherug there out of sight, out of mind.
The children were largely selfsufficient, needing only occasional help with homework or a few pounds for their hobbies.
Cooking, however, was Jamess weak point. He could rustle up a simple roast, but relied heavily on frozen meatballs and battered fish.
The soul craves homecooked comfort, he told the shopkeeper one day, not something I cant even make myself.
Your wife could cook when shes home, the shopkeeper replied. But she isnt, what with the business.
Exactly, James sighed. I could buy mince for meatballs, but then theyd sit in the freezer forever.
A customer offered to help, Let me make you a proper batch!
The shopkeeper retorted, I see you every year, buying nothing but dumplings. Know how to handle meatballs yet?
She then arranged to swing by at seven, fry a few patties, and even helped Mabel tally her till.
Soon enough, Mabel was sizzling meatballs for James, waiting for his wife to return, eager to have something to say.
Youd better watch your business, Mabel warned, wiping the counter. Your husband was nearly whisked away by a rogue stray! You fed him meatballs, but tomorrow hell be seduced by pies, then by borscht.
Youll end up alone, all realised and no husband, Mabel added with a grin.
Thanks, Evelyn muttered, deflated.
Evelyns venture never became a fairytale empire, but it didnt collapse outright either. It earned modest profit enough to thank her for the effort.
Perhaps, had she chased the dream at the expense of family, she might have reached higher, but Mabels lesson reshaped her priorities. In a survival scenario, tearing away would have made sense; instead, an eighthour workday with two days off each week proved sufficient for Evelyns sense of worth.
And James, free of wandering strangers trying to feed him meatballs, finally settled into his role as husband, father, and occasional kitchen helper.
