“Well, you really thought up a grand plan, Mum, serving the guests with borscht, huh?” grumbled my husband, wrinkling his nose at the kitchen air. The whole place smelt of fried tomatoes and last year’s cabbage theyve been out at takeaways and pubs all the time in London, you know. You couldve cooked something more exciting than borscht. Ugh!
“Meatballs will be ready, a salad with mayo, and the pancakes,” Eleanor snapped, feeling hurt. “And the cold cuts, too. Just leave me alone, you old fool. I can manage without you. Get out before I smack you with the ladle. Waitstay! Turn the pot off in five minutes, Im going,” she said abruptly, flinging her apron aside.
“Where are you off to?” he asked, adjusting his trousers and glancing nervously at the stove.
“To meet them. They said they’d be here in ten minutes. Ill grab some extra bread somebody always comes hungry.” She smoothed her short, curled hair in the mirror, still not happy with it. She remembered the days when she was a blooming beauty, but those days felt like they were fading away.
“Dont they have kids? Theyll get up on their own,” he wondered.
“Oh, Peter, stop fidgeting. Ill sort this without you. Dont forget the pot and put something on before you wander around in your underwear,” she retorted.
“Why are you so cross today?” he tried, a little wounded.
“I dont know! Youll never understand, dear,” she cut him off and waddled toward the lift, shaking her hips as she went.
She was fed up. Her son kept coming back every year or so with a new girlfriend, all of them pretentious and demandingvegetarians one week, dietobsessed the next, always whining about the cutlery they never had at home. The ladies would sniff around, never liking a thing Eleanor cooked. So this time she decided to keep it simple: just a hearty, everyday stew, enough to stop anyone from going hungry.
The street greeted her with a fresh May breeze. She took a deep lungful of clean air and, just as she was settling, spotted her sons silver Mini pulling up. Harry, now thirtyseven, still drifted between freelance gigs and dabbling with some app that never seemed to pay off. He kept rushing, hoping for a stable family and a kid. Eleanor dreamed of a grandchild; all her mates were already grandparents, while she felt left out. And Harrys girlfriends? All the samemarried, not wanting children.
“Mum, why did you come out? We could’ve brought it up ourselves,” Harry said, pulling her into a hug. “Meet Emily.”
“Hello!” the girl chirped politely.
“Eeeh hello,” Eleanor stammered, relieved. Finally someone not trying to be a circus act. She looks decent, a bit like a country lass from the Midlands thatll do.
“Alright, shall we get started?” Harry prompted.
“Hold on, Mum, theres a bag of drinks and a box of a gift for you in the boot,” Emily said, eyes sparkling.
“Really?” Eleanor said, intrigued. Emily beamed. “Im into environmental work, so the gift is ecofriendlyperfect for the house.”
Eleanor, already convinced Emily was another oddball, snatched the bag like a robot and tossed the box into the hallway.
Harry tried to help, “Mum, could you take the bag? Ill lug the heavy box for Emilyshe cant handle much weight.”
They exchanged a quick, almost romantic glance that Eleanor missed. She was already planning to hide the new relationship away, so she took the bag stiffly and headed to the flat.
After the usual round of polite hellos, they all sat down. Emily didnt bat an eye at the borscht, grabbed a spoon and started spooning. She talked shyly about her job, stumbling over the details. It turned out she was a junior officer in some environmental monitoring department.
“Is it a proper job?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes, Im officially employed.”
“See, Harry, youve been without a solid contract for ten years. What happens if you get sick? What about your pension? Time flies, youre already thirtyseven.” Eleanors voice rose, a question that had haunted her for ages.
“Oh, Mum, I wont live to see my pension,” Harry muttered.
“Thats what you think, love. One day youll be sitting on the sofa, waiting for the next bill,” Eleanor said, halfjoking.
“Enough, stop ruining my stomach. Dad, pass the pancake and cheese.” Harry tried to raise a toast, but his dad kept cutting him off with his own wishes.
Emily, feeling brave, stood up. “This borscht is brilliant, Eleanor Thompson. Im embarrassed to ask for seconds. Let me help clear the table.”
The women started shuffling dishes back to the kitchen. Spotting the slightly messy stovetop, Emily clapped her hands. “Your gift! I almost forgot!”
She opened the box, pulling out a set of cleaning products. “These are ecofriendly kitchen cleaners. They dissolve in water, dont hurt the environment, and are made from fruit and veg. The company makes almost all household chemicals.”
“Shall we test them now?” Emily suggested, looking radiant. “I could treat the stovetop, then wash the dishes with this special gel.”
Eleanor backed away from the stove. “No, love, I havent cleaned it in three days, Im embarrassed.”
“Come on, I grew up on a farm, seen every sort of stove,” Emily laughed. “You can spray it yourself, Ill just finish with a sponge.”
Emily worked efficiently. Eleanor idly rolled bits of bread on the table, peppering Emily with questions about where she studied, her parents, how she met Harry. The answers were respectable and satisfied Eleanor. Then Emily turned to the stove, wiping it clean with ease.
“Thanks for the lovely gifts, Emily dear,” Eleanor admitted, still waiting for a catch.
Just then, Harry knocked a glass on the table, calling everyone back to the sofa. He pulled Emily close, placed his hand on her belly and declared, “So, Mum, Dad Emily and I have decided to get married.”
“Oh!” Eleanor gasped.
“There’s more” Harry paused, then, with a cheeky kiss, added, “Were expecting a baby. Expect a grandchild this winter.”
“Thats a blessing, Lord! Thats pure joy!” Eleanor leapt up, arms flailing. “The Holy Mother has heard my prayers, the heavens are smiling!”
“Emily, my sunshine, my angel, come here,” she said, opening her arms, gently shushing Harry as he fidgeted. “Be careful, dont jump around! I know how to handle a pregnant lady!”
Emily, eyes shining, whispered, “Eleanor, could you share your recipes with me? I cant cook a thing, especially not borscht.”
Eleanor, practically squealing, replied, “Emily! Thats my dreampassing my cooking secrets, my love, to my future grandchild!”
And that, my friend, is the modest dream I had, and thanks to you, its finally becoming real.
