I have been the unpaid housekeeper for my family ever since I married, until I finally leave for a business venture on my 50th birthday.
Emily Thompson stands at the stove stirring soup when her husband Simon walks in, drops an invitation on the kitchen table and says without looking up from his phone, Your school reunion Saturday.
She eyes the card. Thirty years since graduation, a glossy card with gold lettering.
Are you going? she asks, wiping her hands on her apron.
Of course. Just get yourself presentable, you look like a slob. Dont embarrass the family.
His words hit her hard. Emily freezes, ladle in hand, as Simon heads for the door. At that moment her sons, James and David, wander in.
Mum, whats that? James asks, picking up the invitation.
A reunion, Emily replies quietly.
Cool! Are you really going to show up in that endless dressing gown? David jokes.
Dont make fun of mum, interjects motherinlaw Rose Parker, entering with the air of someone ready to dispense advice. You need a little makeover colour your hair, buy a decent dress, look respectable.
Emily nods silently and returns to the stove. Her chest aches, but she hides it. After twentysix years of marriage shes learned to push resentment deep inside.
Dinners ready, she announces half an hour later.
The family gathers around the table. The borscht is perfect just the right tang, tender beef, fresh herbs. Beside it sit fresh bread rolls and cabbage pastries.
Its tasty, Simon mumbles between bites.
As always, adds Rose. You do know how to cook.
Emily eats a few spoonfuls then heads to the sink. In the mirror above the basin she sees a weary fortynineyearold woman: grey roots, fine lines around her eyes, a dimmed gaze. When did she age this much?
On Saturday she rises at five a.m. She must prepare dishes for the reunion everyone is supposed to bring something. She decides to tackle several recipes at once: solyanka, herring under a fur coat, meat and cabbage pies, and for dessert, a light custard.
Her hands know what to do chop, mix, bake, decorate. Cooking is her sanctuary; here she is the master, free from criticism.
Wow, youve made a lot, James says, descending the stairs at eleven.
For the reunion, Emily replies briefly.
Did you buy anything new for yourself?
Emily looks at the only decent black dress hanging on a chair.
Itll do.
By two p.m. everything is ready. She changes, applies makeup, even puts on the earrings Simon gave her for their tenth anniversary.
You look fine, Simon evaluates. Lets go.
Sarah Irvings country house is impressive. The former classmate married a businessman and now entertains guests in a manor with a pool and tennis court.
Emily! You havent changed a bit! What did you bring? Sarah greets her with a hug.
A few dishes, Emily says, placing containers on the buffet.
People have become richer, older, but they still recognise each other. Emily stays on the fringe, watching former classmates chatter about their successes.
Who made this solyanka? Victor, the old class monitor, calls out. Its a masterpiece!
Its Emily, Sarah points out.
Emily! a short man with kind eyes approaches. Do you remember me? Paul Mitchell, we sat together in the third row.
Paul! Of course I do, she replies, delighted.
You made this solyanka? Im thrilled! And those pies Ive never tasted anything better.
Thanks, Emily says shyly.
No joke. Ive lived in Dublin for ten years; they love Russian food, but Ive never seen this level. Are you a professional chef?
Just a housewife.
Just? You have real talent.
All evening people come to Emily for recipes, praise the food, and treat her like a star. She feels important, needed, for the first time in years.
Meanwhile Simon talks about his garage business, occasionally glancing at his wife with surprise where did this popularity come from?
Monday begins as usual breakfast, cleaning, laundry. Emily irons the boys shirts when the phone rings.
Hello?
Emily? Its Paul. We met on Saturday.
Hi, Paul, she answers.
Ive got a business proposal. Can we meet to talk?
Whats it about?
A job in Dublin. I want to open a Russian restaurant and need a coordinator someone with taste who can train chefs and design the menu. Good salary, plus a share of the profits.
Emily sits down, heart pounding.
Paul, I I dont know what to say.
Think it over. Call me tomorrow, okay?
The whole day she drifts through a fog. A restaurant in Dublin? She, a simple housewife?
At dinner she tries to explain to the family.
Guys, I got a job offer
What kind of job? snorts David. You cant do anything but cook.
Exactly, they want me to cook in a restaurant in Dublin.
Dublin? Simon repeats. Thats absurd.
Mum, what are you talking about? How old are you? Fortyeight? James puts down his fork.
Besides, who will run the household? Who will do the cleaning, the laundry? Rose interjects.
Maybe someone was just joking, Simon waves his hand.
Emily falls silent. Maybe theyre right. Maybe its not serious.
The next day the same argument repeats over breakfast. Simon, critical as ever, says, Youve changed, you need to start exercising.
Mom, by the way, David spreads butter on his toast, dont come to my graduation, okay?
Why not? Emily asks, surprised.
Because all the other parents are stylish, and youre outdated.
Davids right, James adds. Dont be offended, we just dont want the kids to talk about you later.
Rose nods, They say you should keep yourself presentable. Women today stay beautiful into old age.
Emily gets up, goes to her room, and with trembling hands dials Pauls number.
Paul? Its Emily. I accept.
Really? his voice bursts with joy. Emily, thats great! But be warned the job will be tough. Lots of responsibility, long hours, big 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. Emily prepares documents, learns a bit of Irish, drafts a menu for the future restaurant. Her family remains skeptical, treating her plans as a fleeting fancy.
Soon shell realise home is better, Simon tells his friends.
The important thing is she doesnt lose money, Rose adds.
Her sons treat her as part of the décor cooking, washing, cleaning. What could she possibly do abroad?
On the day of departure Emily rises early, packs a weeks worth of meals, leaves instructions for laundry and cleaning, and heads to the airport alone everyone else is busy.
Well keep in touch, Simon mutters as she walks away.
Dublin greets her with rain and new scents. Paul waits at arrivals with a bouquet and a wide grin.
Welcome to your new life, he says, hugging her.
The following months blur into one. Emily hires staff, finalises the menu, discovers she can lead, plan, and make decisions as well as she can cook.
The first customers arrive after three months. The dining room is packed, people line up. Borscht, solyanka, pelmeni, crêpes everything disappears in minutes.
You have golden hands, Paul says. And a sharp mind. Weve created something special.
Emily watches satisfied diners, hears compliments, and realises she has finally found herself. At fortyeight she begins to live anew.
Six months later Simon calls.
Emily, hows it going? When are you coming home?
Fine. Im working.
When will you be back? Were struggling here.
Hire a housekeeper.
What, for how much?
For the same amount I earned for twentysix years.
What do you mean?
Nothing special. I was your free housekeeper until my anniversary, then I left for business.
Silence hangs on the line.
Lena, can we talk normally? No hard feelings?
Simon, Im not angry. Im just living. For the first time Im living.
Her sons react similarly, unable to grasp how their mother suddenly becomes independent, successful, needed beyond them.
Mum, stop playing business lady, James says. The house falls apart without you.
Learn to manage on your own, Emily retorts. Youre already twentyfive.
Simon doesnt object to divorce; its merely a legal acknowledgement of what has already happened.
A year later the restaurant Moscow is one of Dublins most popular spots. Investors pitch to expand, TV chefs invite her onto cooking shows, critics write glowing reviews.
Russian woman who conquered Dublin, she reads in a local paper.
Paul proposes on the restaurants anniversary. Emily thinks it over before saying yes not 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, Simon arrives with the boys. Seeing their mother in a sharp business suit, receiving applause from local celebrities, they are stunned.
Mum, youve changed, David mutters.
Shes beautiful now, James adds.
Im finally me, Emily replies.
Simon spends the evening silent, throwing surprised glances at his former wife. When the guests leave, he approaches her.
Sorry, Lena. I didnt see you as a person, as someone with talent, dreams, needs. I thought you were just part of the household.
Emily nods, feeling no anger, only sadness for lost years.
Shall we start over? he asks.
No, Simon. My life is different now.
Now Emily is fifty. She runs a chain of restaurants, hosts her own cooking programme, and has a bestseller recipe book. Shes married to a man who loves her for who she is, not as a free housekeeper.
Her sons call now and then, proud of their mother, wanting to visit. She enjoys hearing them but no longer feels guilty for living for herself.
Sometimes she stands in the kitchen of her flagship restaurant, watches chefs prepare her signature dishes, and thinks, What if I hadnt taken the chance? What if Id stayed a slob in a dressing gown? She quickly pushes the thought away. Life doesnt give second chances to everyone, but she was lucky enough to seize hers.
Starting over at fortyeight is frightening, yet its the only way to truly discover who you are.
