I am the familys unpaid housekeeper, and it isnt until my golden wedding that I finally leave for a business venture abroad.
Helen Walker stands at the stove, stirring a pot of soup, when Simon walks into the kitchen and drops an invitation on the table.
Your school reunion, he says, eyes glued to his phone. Saturday.
She looks at the glossy card, thirty years after graduation, the gold lettering glinting.
Youre going, arent you? she asks, wiping her hands on her apron.
Of course. Just get yourself presentable, love. You look like a slob. Dont embarrass the family.
The words hit her like a punch. Helen freezes, ladle in hand. Simon heads for the door just as their sons, Max and Dean, slip in.
Mum, whats that? Max asks, holding up the invitation.
A school reunion, Helen whispers.
Oh, brilliant! And youre going in that same old bathrobe? Dean jokes.
Dont mock Mum, interjects Rachel Perry, the motherinlaw, entering with the air of someone ready to dispense wisdom. She just needs a bit of work on herself. Dye the hair, buy a decent dress. She should look respectable.
Helen nods silently and returns to the stove. Her chest aches, but she hides it. After twentysix years of marriage she has learned to tuck resentment deep inside.
Dinners ready, she announces half an hour later.
The family gathers around the table. The borscht is perfecttangy, tender beef, fragrant herbsserved with fresh bread and cabbage pastries.
Delicious, Simon grumbles between bites.
As always, adds Rachel. You do know how to cook.
Helen eats a few spoonfuls, then goes to wash the dishes. In the mirror above the sink she sees a weary fortyfiveyearold woman: grey roots, fine lines around her eyes, a dimmed gaze. When did she grow so old?
On Saturday she rises at five a.m. First she must prepare the dishes each guest is expected to bring. She decides to make several things at once: solyanka, herring under a fur coat, meat and cabbage pies, and for dessert, a batch of birds milk mousse.
Her hands know the motionschopping, mixing, baking, decorating. Cooking is her sanctuary, the one place where she is the master and faces no criticism.
Wow, youve made a lot, Max says, descending the stairs at eleven.
Just for the reunion, Helen replies shortly.
Did you buy anything new for yourself?
Helen looks at the only decent black dress hanging on a chair.
Itll do.
By two oclock everything is ready. She changes, puts on makeup, even wears the earrings Simon gave her for their tenth anniversary.
You look fine, Simon says. Lets go.
Sophie Irvings country house impresses with its sheer size. An old schoolmate, now married to a businessman, hosts the reunion in a manor with a pool and tennis courts.
Lena! Sophie embraces her. You havent changed a bit! What did you bring?
A few dishes, Helen places the containers on the buffet.
Some have become wealthy, some have aged, but everyone still knows each other. Helen stays to the side, watching former classmates brag about their successes.
Who made the solyanka? booms Victor, the former class monitor. Its a masterpiece!
Its Helen, Sophie points out.
A short, friendlylooking man steps forward. Helen! Remember me? Paul Mitchell, we sat together in the third row.
Paul! Of course, she replies, delighted.
You made that solyanka? Im thrilled! And those pies Ive never tasted anything better.
Thanks, Helen says, blushing.
No joke. Ive lived in Dublin for ten years; they love Russian food there, there are many Russian restaurants, but Ive never seen a dish like yours. Are you a professional chef?
Just a housewife.
Just? Paul shakes his head. You have genuine talent.
All evening people approach Helen, asking for recipes, praising her cooking. She feels important, needed, for the first time in many years.
Simon talks about his garage business, glancing at his wife with surprisewhere did this popularity come from?
Monday starts like any otherbreakfast, cleaning, laundry. Helen irons the boys shirts when the phone rings.
Hello?
Helen? Its Paul. We met on Saturday.
Hi, Paul, she says, curious.
Ive been thinking I have a business proposition. Can we meet? Talk?
About what?
Work, in Dublin. I want to open a Russian restaurant and need a coordinatorsomeone with good taste who can train chefs and design the menu. The salary is decent, plus a share of profits.
Helen sits down, heart pounding.
Paul, I I dont know what to say.
Think it over. Call me tomorrow, okay?
She spends the day in a fog. A restaurant in Dublin? She is just a housewife.
At dinner she tries to explain to the family.
Can you believe they offered me a job
What kind of job? Dean scoffs. You cant do anything except cook.
They offered me a cooking job. In Dublin, at a restaurant.
Dublin? Simon repeats, bewildered. What nonsense.
Mom, are you serious? Max puts down his fork. How old are you? Fortyeight?
Besides that, Rachel adds, who will run the house? Cook, clean?
Maybe someone was joking, Simon waves a hand.
Helen falls silent. Maybe theyre right. Maybe its not serious.
The next day the same pattern repeats. Over breakfast Simon examines her with a critical eye.
Youve changed a bit, he notes. You need to start exercising.
Mom, by the way, Dean spreads butter on his toast, dont come to my graduation, ok?
Why not? Helen asks.
Because all the parents are… stylish. You look outdated.
Deans right, Max says, supporting him. Dont be offended, we just dont want the kids talking about you.
Rachel nods in agreement.
Ladies should take care of themselves. Nowadays women stay beautiful into old age.
Helen gets up from the table and retreats to her bedroom. With shaking hands she dials Pauls number.
Paul? Its Helen. Ill take the job.
Really? his voice bubbles with excitement. Helen, thats wonderful! But I warn you, the work will be hard. Lots of responsibility, long hours, tough decisions. Are you ready?
Im ready, she says firmly. When do I start?
In a month. Well sort the paperwork, the visa. Ill help with everything.
A month flies by. Helen processes documents, studies a bit of Irish, drafts a menu for the future restaurant. The family remains skeptical, treating her plan as a fleeting fancy.
Shell be home in a month or two, then shell see the house is better, Simon tells his friends.
What matters is she doesnt lose money, Rachel adds.
The boys never take her plans seriously. To them she is part of the décorcooking, washing, cleaning. What could she possibly do abroad?
On the day of departure Helen rises early, prepares a weeks worth of meals, leaves notes for laundry and cleaning. She drives alone to the airport; everyone else is occupied.
Well call, Simon mutters as she leaves.
Dublin greets her with drizzle and new scents. Paul waits in the arrivals hall with a bouquet and a wide grin.
Welcome to your new life, he says, hugging her.
The following months blur into one. Helen hires staff, finalises the menu. She discovers she can not only cook but also lead, plan, and make decisions.
The first customers arrive after three months. The dining room is packed, people line up. Borscht, solyanka, dumplings, pancakeseverything sells out in minutes.
You have golden hands, Paul comments. And a brilliant mind. Weve created something special.
Helen watches satisfied guests, hears compliments, and realises she has finally found herself. At fortyeight she starts life anew.
Six months later Simon calls.
Lena, hows it going? When are you coming home?
Everythings fine. Im working.
When will you be back? Were barely managing here.
Hire a housekeeper.
What kind of pay?
The same I earned for twentysix years.
What do you mean?
I was the familys unpaid housekeeper until my golden wedding, when I left for business abroad.
Silence hangs on the line.
Lena, can we talk properly? No hard feelings?
Im not offended, Simon. Im just living. For the first time Im actually living.
Her sons react similarly, unable to grasp how their mother suddenly became independent, successful, needed by others.
Mom, stop playing businesswoman, Max says. The house falls apart without you.
Learn to live on your own, Helen replies. Youre already twentyfive.
Simon doesnt object to a divorce; its merely a legal acknowledgment of the reality.
A year passes. The restaurant Moscow becomes one of Dublins most popular spots. Investors approach Helen to open a chain, she appears on culinary TV shows, critics write glowing reviews.
A Russian woman who conquered Dublin, reads a headline in a local paper.
Paul proposes on the restaurants anniversary. Helen thinks it over before saying yesnot because she doubts him, but because she values her independence.
I wont cook for you every day or wash shirts, she warns.
On the second anniversary of the restaurant, Simon arrives with the boys. Seeing Helen in a sleek business suit, receiving accolades from local celebrities, they are stunned.
Mum, you youve changed, Dean mutters.
Shes beautiful now, Max adds.
Im finally me, Helen corrects.
Simon spends the evening silent, occasionally casting amazed looks at his former wife. When the guests leave, he approaches her.
Im sorry, Lena. I never saw you as a person with dreams, talent, needs. I thought you were just part of the home.
Helen nods. Theres no anger, only sadness for the years lost.
Maybe we could start over? he asks.
No, Simon. My life is different now.
Today Helen is fifty. She runs a chain of restaurants, hosts her own cooking show on Irish television, and has a bestselling recipe book. She is married to a man who respects her as an individual, not as unpaid help.
Her sons call now and then, proud of their mother, telling her they want to visit. Helen enjoys hearing them, but no longer feels guilty for living for herself.
Sometimes she stands in the kitchen of her flagship restaurant, watches the chefs prepare her signature dishes, and thinks, What if I hadnt taken that step? What if Id stayed a slob in a bathrobe? She quickly pushes the thought away. Life doesnt give second chances to everyone; she was lucky, and she made the most of it.
Starting over at fortyeight scares you, but it turns out its the only way to truly discover who you are.
