I still remember the day my husband, a longhaul truck driver, came back from his latest run with a stranger in tow. Shell be living with us now, he announced, and my heart clenched as tears welled in my eyes.
Emily stared, bewildered, at the new woman who swaggered into our modest flat in a bathrobe that had once belonged to our landlady, her hair wrapped in my husbands favourite towel. Dont just stand there! she shouted from the kitchen. First, Im famished. Second, your husband will be here any minute.
I wanted to scream, to throw her out the front door, but I stayed silent. The flat was my husbands property, acquired before we married, and nothing in our life had hinted at trouble. Up until that very day, Id lived comfortably: I didnt work, the money came in from my husbands steady wages, and I was known for my capricious temper. Friends would joke that Peter had taken the road job just to be away from me longer, yet everyone, myself included, believed he loved me deeply.
When the truck pulled up, I wondered what he might have brought back this time. The reality far exceeded my expectations. He introduced the woman as Eleanor, declaring that she would now share our home. Hed met her somewhere along the motorway.
I was 34, still young and considered attractive, while Eleanor looked nearer fifty, unkempt and blunt. How could my decent husband be drawn to a woman like that? He was only ten years my senior, and though some older men favoured mature ladies, this was not the sort of companionship I imagined.
Are you going to stand there forever? Eleanor bellowed from the kitchen. Im starving! I set about boiling dumplings, while Eleanor watched me with a raised brow. What, youre feeding the husband with semiprocessed food? And youre dumping it on me? she snapped.
I replied with a bitter look, Exactly. She flung the dumplings out the open window.
Hey, what are you doing? I yelled.
The cat will have a snack, she replied coolly. You, dear, go make some soup or fry some potatoes, understood? Then she retreated to the living room to watch television.
When Peter arrived home, I dragged him into the kitchen and vented, Send her away! Why did you bring her here? She threw the dumplings away! She I couldnt finish.
Eleanor appeared, eyes full of contempt. Peter, why are you tolerating her? Youre a respectable man with a house and money, and she cant even cook a proper meal. Shes a spoiled mothers little girl and a whiner!
I live here, and Im the lady of the house! I snapped back.
Fine, you are, she said, and together she and Peter left for the shop.
Eleanor prepared the dinner herself that night. I had no appetite, but the next day I ate the stew and navybean casserole she made. Cooking had never been my strength nor my pleasure, yet I resolved to catch up. I turned to recipes on the internet, failing at first, then gradually finding a rhythm. I stopped picking fights with Peter over every little thing.
A fear lingered, though: what if that disagreeable Eleanor stayed and I was forced out? I told no one, not even my mother, though I used to call her for every little matter. I confided only in my best friend, Kate.
Get rid of her, you impostor! Kate advised, tears welling. I cant imagine my Sam bringing someone like that into our home.
Its your flat, Kate. Sam earns nothing, youre the one holding the family together, while I have nothing of my own! I sobbed.
Thanks, Kate, she said bitterly. I tried to support you, and youve turned her into your new life. Off you go, back to your Peter and his Eleanor!
Life seemed unchanged at first. Peter still adored me, and I kept probing why hed brought Eleanor in, how long shed stay. He refused to discuss it. Eleanor found work at a corner shop, and I suddenly thought of how to survive this impostor: I could become pregnant. I had never wanted children; Id told Peter I wasnt interested in motherhood, fearing it would ruin my figure and that I lacked affection for children.
Now the idea seemed a perfect solution. Friends remarked on my transformation: I cooked more, stopped histrionics, and became the model wife. Soon I announced to Peter that I was expecting. He was overjoyed.
Its about time, Eleanor sighed. Raise the child well, or youll end up like mecast out when the family no longer needs you.
What do you mean, cast out? I asked, startled.
She recounted how she had raised her husbands sons as her own, only to be thrown out after one of them died, denied any further place in the house. Tears glistened in her eyes.
For the first time I felt genuine remorse, and even sympathy for her.
What happened afterward? I whispered.
Nothing much, she replied. I started drinking, didnt want to live. One night my husbands car almost ran me over. We talked, he set me straight, invited me to stay. I began to believe there are decent people after all. Youre lucky, Emily, to have a good husband.
That evening we ate together, the three of us, and I no longer wanted to drive Eleanor away. She smiled, convinced shed managed to reform the wayward wife.
The next day Peters uncle arrived from the countryside, eyes constantly wandering to Eleanor. After a weeks stay, he left with her, declaring, At our age we must seize the moment and not turn down offers. Thank you for your hospitality.
I found myself missing Eleanors presence. Life changed, and so did I. I gave birth to a daughter, and asked Eleanor to be her godmother. Their bond became inseparable.
Every summer Id travel to the countryside, the fresh air good for the child, and Peter would marvel at how unrecognisable his wife had become. He credited Eleanor with the transformation.
Thus, a tangled skein of fate wove these people together, each now indispensable to the other.
