I still recall, as if through a faded photograph, the day my husband, a longhaul lorry driver, returned from his route with a stranger in tow. Shell be living with us now, he announced, and my heart clenched, eyes brimming with tears.
Ellen, my neighbour, had been watching the scene with an astonished stare. The newcomer behaved brazenly, strolling into the bathroom without a second thought, emerging in the hosts nightgown and draped in Ellens favourite towel. With a haughty tone she declared, Dont just stand there, love. First, Im famished. And second, your man is about to walk through that door.
I wanted to shout, to fling her out, but I kept silent. The flat belonged to my husband, a piece of property hed owned before we were married, and nothing had ever hinted at trouble. Life had been comfortable, even prosperous. I didnt work; the money came in steady, earned by my husbands long hauls, and I liked to think I was a bit capricious, a touch demanding. Friends would joke that Peter had taken up lorry driving just to stay away from me longer, yet everyone, myself included, believed he adored me deeply.
On the day he arrived, I wondered what surprise he might bring. Reality, however, exceeded all my expectations. He introduced an unfamiliar woman, saying, Shell be staying with us. Her name was Ivy. To keep the peace, hed met her on the motorway.
I was baffled. At thirtyfour, I was still young and pretty, while Ivy looked at least fifty, unkempt and sharptongued. Could such a woman truly entice my handsome husband? Age differences were not unheard of, but this seemed odd. Ivy snapped from the kitchen, Are you going to stand there forever? Im starving! I set about boiling dumplings, while she watched in silence. When I placed a plate before her, she scoffed, What, youre feeding the husband with readymade food? And youre serving it to me too? I answered with a glare, Exactly. Then, with a flourish, Ivy flung the dumplings out the open window.
You cant be serious! I cried.
The cat will have them. You, dear, go make soup or fry some potatoes, she replied, turning back to the television.
When Peter came home, I dragged him into the kitchen and pleaded, Kick her out! Why did you bring her here? She threw the food away! Before I could finish, Ivy appeared, sneering, Peter, why do you put up with her? Youre a respectable man with a good house and money, yet she cant even cook a proper meal. Shes a spoiled mamas girl and a whiner! I snapped, I live here, and I am the lady of this house! Ivy retorted, Well see about that, and left with Peter to the local shop.
That day I had no appetite. The next, however, I ate Ivys wonderful borscht and navalstyle macaroni. Cooking had never been my strength nor my pleasure, but I decided to make up for lost time. I scoured recipes online, failing at first, then gradually getting the hang of it. I stopped picking fights with Peter over every little thing.
Fear crept in: what if Ivy stayed and I left? I told no one, not even my mother, though I usually called her about everything. I confided only in my best friend, Clara, who urged, Send her packing! Shes an impostor! I cant imagine if my Sam brought someone like that home. I sobbed, Its easy for you. The flat is yours, Sam earns nothing, you drag the family along. My Peter is handsome, but hes taken this mess to us! Clara snapped back, Thanks for the support, but youve turned my back on me. Get back to your Peter and his Ivy!
Life seemed unchanged on the surface, yet Peter still gazed at me with adoration, while I tried in vain to ask why hed dragged Ivy into our home and how long she would remain. He refused to discuss it. Ivy found work in a corner shop, and I suddenly realised a way to outstay the intruder: become pregnant. I had never wanted children, telling Peter that motherhood wasnt for memy figure, my lack of maternal instinct. Yet the thought that a child might secure my place seemed compelling.
Friends noticed my transformation. I began cooking, stopped throwing tantrums, and, as if by magic, turned into the perfect wife. Soon after, I announced to Peter that I was expecting. He beamed, Finally! Just raise the child well, so youre not driven out like I was! Ivy, eyes glistening, whispered, I was cast out once. I raised my husbands sons as my own, and when my own boy died, they threw me out, telling me never to return. I poured my soul into them. I felt a pang of guilt and asked, And then?
She sighed, Nothing much. I started drinking, didnt want to live. One night a man drove by; I stepped onto the road, he braked in time. We talked, he set my mind straight, invited me to stay. I finally believed there were good people. Youre lucky, Ellen, to have a decent husband. That evening, the three of us shared a dinner for the first time, and I no longer felt the urge to evict Ivy. Ivy, with a faint smile, seemed to think shed reeducated the troublesome wife.
The following day, Peters uncle arrived from the countryside, eyes lingering on Ivy. After a weeks stay, he prepared to leave, taking Ivy with him.
At our age, you must seize the moment and not refuse opportunities, Ivy chirped. Thank you for taking us in. I even began to miss her company.
Life had altered, and so had I. I gave birth to a daughter and asked Ivy to be her godmother. The two of us became inseparable. Every summer, I travel to the countryside with my child; the fresh air does her good, and Peter marvels at how unrecognisable his wife has become. He credits Ivy for the change.
Thus, a tangled skein of fate wove together people who now cannot imagine life without each other.
