Family Stew.
Really, Mum, youve decided to serve guests stew? the husband sniffed the kitchen air with a disgusted huff. The room reeked of fried tomatoes and last years cabbageTheyre always hopping from one chainrestaurant to another in London you could have cooked something more interesting than stew. Ugh!
Meatballs are coming, salad with mayo, and pancakes, Althea snapped, her voice sharp as a kitchen knife. And a proper carving board just leave me alone, you old fool. Ill manage without you. Get out before I smash you with a ladle. Waitstay! Turn the pot off in five minutes; Im going, she barked, ripping her apron off in one swift motion.
Where are you off to? he asked, fidgeting with his suspenders and glancing nervously at the stove.
To the meeting. They said theyd be here in ten minutes. Ill pick up some extra breadsomeones bound to be still hungry. He shuffled his feet, eyes darting toward the oven as if it might bite.
She stood before a gilt mirror, trying to fix her short, bobcut hair. The style suited her age, but Althea hated it. Gone were the days when shed been a blooming beauty, held together by sheer will. Now she felt like a wilted flower that no one could revive.
Theyll manage themselves, he muttered, surprised at his own optimism.
Dont flutter your eyes, Pete, Ill sort this without you. Dont forget the pot and get dressed, for heavens sakestop roaming around in just your underwear.
Why are you so angry today? he began, feeling a sting of offense.
Dont ask. Youll never understand, dear. She swayed her hips toward the lift. Whats the point of being nice when my son pops up every two years with a new girlfriend, all vulgar and pretentious, never knowing which horse to ride. Sometimes theyre vegans, sometimes on diets, sometimes they think everythings too salty or too greasy, and they never have a proper knife for a restaurant cutlery settheyve never owned one, yet they survive.
The girls he brought home sniffed the air, turned up their noses at Altheas cooking, and she decided this time shed make nothing fancyjust a simple, everyday stew, enough to fill bellies.
The street greeted her with a fresh May breeze. She inhaled the clean air, steadied herself, and then spotted her sons silver hatchback. Peter, thirtyseven, still without a title, earning a living tinkering with online gigs, fussing over code, always in a rush. If only I had a proper family, a child Id love a grandchild! Althea longed. All her friends had nannies; she felt left out, while Peters girlfriends were all the samemarried, unwilling to have babies.
Mum, well come up anyway, Peter said, hugging her. This is Emily, meet her.
Hello! the girl chirped politely.
Ah! Althea blurted, Hhello She sighed in relief. Finally, someone who looks like a normal person, no tricks. Thatll do. A soft smile spread across her face as she welcomed the new daughterinlaw.
Ready to go? she asked.
Hold on, Mum, theres a bag of drinks and a gift box for you in the boot, from Emily.
Awhat? Althea reached out, intrigue sparking. Emily beamed.
Emily works in environmental cleanup, fighting for a greener world. The gift matchestake a look at home later. Altheas enthusiasm fizzled; she thought, Maybe Ive rushed my judgment; perhaps shes just another oddball.
Can you grab the bag, Mum? Ill handle the boxEmily cant lift heavy things, Peter called, hoisting a bulky parcel from the car. Their eyes met in a fleeting, mysterious exchange that Althea missed, already mentally shelving any future ties to Peters love life. She snatched the bag robotically and ushered the youngsters into the flat.
After the usual flurry of greetings, they all sat down. Emily didnt bat an eye at the stew; she took a spoon and ate. She spoke hesitantly about her job, shy about it. Im just a junior in the environmental monitoring service, she muttered, barely audible.
Is it an official position? Althea asked.
Yes, Im formally employed.
See, Peter? Youve been on the books for ten years, gathering dust. What if you fall ill? What about a pension? Time flies, and youre already thirtyseven. Althea pressed, a question that had haunted her.
Dont worry, Mum, I wont live to see a pension, Peter joked.
Itll come, and youll end up on your arse, Althea declared with certainty.
Please stop, youre ruining my digestion. Dad, pass the pancake and cheese. Peter tried to make a toast, but his father kept interrupting, leaping up to proclaim his wishes.
The stew is wonderful, Mrs. Althea, Emily said, blushing, May I help clear the table?
The women began stacking dishes, and Emily, spotting the cluttered stovetop, exclaimed, Your gift is here! I almost forgot! She tore open the box, unveiling ecofriendly cleaning products, explaining, They dissolve in water, dont harm the environment, made from vegetables and fruit. The company produces almost all household chemicals.
Shall we try them now? Emily beamed, looking radiant. Ill treat the stove, and while the solution works, Ill wash the dishes with this special gel.
Althea backed away from the stove. No, love, I havent cleaned it in three daysembarrassing. Not today.
Dont worry, I grew up in the countryside and have seen every kind of stove, Emily laughed. You can spray it yourself, Ill just finish with a sponge.
Emily worked swiftly. Althea rolled breadcrumbs on the table, peppering her questions about Emilys education, family, how she met Peter. The answers were respectable and satisfied Althea. Soon Emily was gliding a sponge over the stove, the grime disappearing effortlessly.
Thank you for the lovely gifts, Emily, Althea admitted, still wary of a hidden catchthere was always a catch.
From the living room, Peter clinked a glass and called everyone back to the sofa. He embraced his girlfriend, hand resting gently on her belly, and announced, So, dear Mum and Dad Emily and I have decided to marry.
Oh! Althea gasped.
Theres more Peter paused the inevitable stream of exclamations, then smacked Emily, who flushed. Were expecting a baby; expect a grandchild this winter.
Thats bliss, Lord! Thats joy! Althea leapt, arms waving. The Holy Mother has heard my prayers; the heavens are merciful! She reached out, wrapping her arms around Emily, shushing Peters restless movements. Be gentle, love. I know better than anyone how to handle a pregnant woman.
Althea Smith, Emily whispered, tears glistening, could you share some of your recipes? I cant cook a stew like yours.
Emily! Althea shouted, her mind bright with happiness, Its my dreamto pass my knowledge to my daughterinlaw, to give my unborn grandchild the love Ive hoarded.
Thanks to you, my modest dream has finally become possible.
