Meatballs
Oh, to hell with it all! Emma dropped the finished meatballs onto a plate, grabbed the handle of her grandmothers old cast iron frying pan without thinking, completely forgetting to use a cloth, burned her hand, and howled in frustration at the chaos of her life.
Lines from a favourite bands song floated through my head, something about a penny in the jar of facts and an eternal question. As Emma wiped away the tears that had sprung from her eyes, she made a mental note about Johnny Marr and admitted that, once again, the genius had been right she was never going to be the centre of the universe.
Following their mistresss mood, the first to join in was Alfie, and soon after, came Sebastian. If the cat, as usual, simply meowed quietly in support, Alfie really put in the effort.
That little mutt of no particular pedigree could howl so plaintively that it sounded as if a whole pack of wolves had descended on Emmas small kitchen, threatening to wake not just the family, but the entire block.
Oi! Hush! Youre not helping! Emma finally realised sobbing wasnt helping her burnt hand, turned on the cold tap and shoved her hand under it.
A second later, cursing her own daftness, she went and grabbed the frying pans handle again, trying to move it out of the sink and avoid damaging it. This time, she yelped so loudly Alfie excitedly bounced around the kitchen, barking in greeting to the new day which, it seemed, had started so brilliantly. Just then, a bleary-eyed Tom, Emmas husband, appeared in the doorway.
What on earths all this racket about, love?
He took stock of the situation immediately if there was one thing Tom could boast about, it was his reflexes. Hed been a boxer, after all.
Ten seconds later, the tap was off, Emma was seated at the table, a first aid kit before her, and the frying pan back in its rightful place.
Lets have a look at that hand, Tom said, gingerly taking his wifes elbow, careful not to touch her palm.
No! Leave it! Emma squeaked, clenching her hand into a fist and then wailing softly in pain.
Right, enough of that. Tom slipped into his old sergeant-major voice, and as always, everyone fell in line as he gave the order Emma, Alfie, Sebastian.
Of all the Smith family, the cat, as usual, was the smartest. Even while Emma was dancing round the sink with the frying pan, Sebastian had hidden under the table and was now comforting her, purring madly as he groomed her slippers. Someone had to give her some sympathy, after all.
Everyone else just made a fuss! That daft mutt Alfie wagged his tail and grinned as if Emma had just given him all the meatballs. What was he so happy about anyway? He ought to know better! After all, his own side was still covered in scars. He barely remembered how hed darted away from the fire that took his old home, how hed howled in the winter storm, all tangled and unkempt, sitting on a bridge. How Emma had made Tom stop the car, and trudged through the snow to the bridge, kneeling in a drift for half an hour just to lure him to her. How she had nursed him back to health, ignoring the whining and the biting. Oh, hed bitten plenty! Until Sebastian had finally clouted him one. Emma scolded the cat, but Sebastian knew hed done the right thing. Emma was one of a kind, and no one absolutely no one had any right to bite her.
Emma was the one who came up with his name. The whole family had argued over it twenty times, and even drawing straws with Toms old cap hadnt helped.
Alfie, as in, Whats it all about, Alfie? Emma had mused, and that settled the debate.
Shed saved the dog, so she had the right to name him.
Alfies original family had refused to take him back. They brought a new collar and lead, and offered their apologies.
Hes a hero, that dog of yours! Saved us all from the fire, he did. He barked and howled till every neighbour was up.
So why arent you keeping him then?
Well, were living with relatives at the moment, on sufferance. Six of us squashed in one little bedsit. No place for a dog
Sebastian, listening to these excuses, immediately sensed Emmas anger. Just a bit more and shed explode, so he leapt into her lap, stuck his tail under her nose, and dug his claws into her jeans, just to distract her. It worked she calmed down, said nothing, merely nodded, fetched a clean sheet of paper from her desk and instructed:
Right. Write me a receipt.
A receipt? What for?
To say that youve signed him over to me, completely and permanently.
No need for that. Were not coming back for him.
Once a traitor Emma muttered, slammed a pen on the table, Just do it!
Alfies former owners didnt argue. Silently, they wrote what was required and left. For ages after, Emma sat on the floor, scratching Alfie and Sebastians ears, crying.
She knew betrayal first-hand.
Shed been thrown out of her own house once too, just like Alfie, with no justice. Her first husband was, putting it mildly, a poor excuse for a man. He liked the pub, and rarely said no to a pint or three. Not an alcoholic, strictly speaking, but Friday was a reason to drink and wasnt every week?
Emma had loved him, kept the house just as her mum advised, food on the table, home tidy.
She had their daughter, just as hed always asked.
But it soon became clear that the only thing he liked about the baby was the first celebratory drink. The baby was in the way crying too loud, nappy smells, none of it was for him.
Emma, as much as she loved him, couldnt stand how he was with their child.
What was the point in begging for a baby and then telling her to move it out of the way? Men were replaceable; children were not.
Have a baby, she thought, and spend sleepless nights checking if its even breathing!
Wipe its nose for the first time with one hand, using your mind to try to turn on your phone and Google whats wrong, because the doctors not coming for another two hours and you need answers right now!
See them take their first wobbly steps, pushing away your hands, determined to flatten their nose and you have to let go, so they can do it on their own.
Tears of pure joy when you hear Mummy for the first time, covering your childs face with kisses, not minding their protests at the fuss
For Emma, the answer was clear. She packed up, took her daughter, and left.
Youre leaving? he shrugged, Go if you want, just dont come back. You wont be welcome.
Emma slammed the door. Whats the point of explaining when no one wants to listen?
Not long after the tough divorce, Sebastian came into her life. Emma found him bedraggled, exhausted, barely alive at the edge of a muddy puddle by her parents block, where shed had to move since she had no home of her own.
Good Lord, Emma, where did you find that creature?! her mum, Irene, gasped, taking the kitten off her. Wash your hands! Who knows what its carrying! God forbid it infects the baby!
Mum, Ive got the number for the local vet somewhere. I helped her get planning permission for that new practice; Im sure shell help. Can you watch Sophie for me?
As if I have a choice! Go, quick, the poor things barely alive! Look at the state of him!
Hell plump up, youll see! Emma replied, grinning. And she was right. Sebastian grew into a massive, fluffy rogue who made no secret of being the only bloke in the house, bossing his all-female battalion. Even little Sophie occasionally got a tap with a tail, or a playful nip at the heel, if Emma was too tired teaching her daughter that mum was only human, after all.
Every man who came to the house, Sebastian treated as an enemy, secretly making mischief and never even pretending to feel guilty when Emma scolded him, finding his little presents in the shoes of visitors.
Sebastian! Have you no shame?
The cat would look at her as if the word had no meaning, and Emma would sigh.
Men! Youre all the same. Always thinking of yourselves!
Sebastian rejected such accusations. He knew he was unique, truly one of a kind, and wasnt about to leave his mistress to just anyone.
Emma was so used to his antics, she bought a proper shoe cupboard for the hallway, which insulted Sebastian deeply, even threatening his status in the family.
Whats with the look? Emma would laugh, How am I meant to meet anyone if you sabotage every mans shoes? Do you want me to be single forever?
Sebastian would say nothing. You cant explain the basics to some people. Best just to stay quiet, do things your way, and maybe apologise later but only if truly necessary. After all, he was just protecting his own.
Only once did Sebastian break his rule. He didnt touch the battered old shoe cabinet, nor did he sulk with Sophie, or complain about Emma to anyone. Instead, he sat with Emma, closely watching the unfamiliar man who, red-faced and nervous, said something to Emmas father, clutching a shot glass he never drank from, and then listened as the people at the table cheered and congratulated Emma, pulling her up for hugs. Sebastian followed the stranger to the nursery and twitched his tail, watching the man kneel before two-year-old Sophie and ask, with utmost seriousness:
Will you be my daughter?
Sebastian didnt know the mans name, but that hardly mattered. He remembered the scent, and for some reason, he relaxed. Any man Sophie would go to straight away couldnt be all bad.
Thats how Tom ended up in Emmas life. For a while they lived at her parents with Sophie, and once shed settled into the new family, they moved in with Tom.
Naturally, Emma took Sebastian with her. He sneezed at the bouquet of white roses, listened to Emmas laughter, and decided things must be alright. She never laughed like that often.
The years that followed were, well, calm enough.
Mostly.
Emma was first raising Sebastian and Sophie. Then Sebastian, Sophie, and young Max. Later, Alfie arrived, plus Irene, who moved in after her husband left. The family grew, and Emma was showing more and more strain.
Why?
Sebastian didnt know. He tried, in his cat way, to treat her blues, but nothing worked. He tried enlisting Toms help, but Tom simply didnt understand maybe work pressures were getting to him, or maybe he just wasnt tuned in to the subtleties at home, but he never noticed Emmas state, just pecked her on the cheek out of habit and demanded his beloved stew. That, and plump meatballs, loved by everyone, Alfie and Sebastian included, were Emmas trademark dishes, and she manned the stove reliably, though Sebastian was certain she hated every minute.
Like today, after frying the meatballs, Emma finally cracked, letting her tears and exhaustion spill over though only Sebastian seemed to even notice. Everyone was so used to Emma keeping the home running they didnt spot when she was coming undone.
Emma, whats wrong with you? Tom said, wrapping her palm in a bandage and peering at the woman who had made him a happy family man.
Nothing! Emma huffed, offended. Losing my marbles, thats all!
Well, thats news to me Have I missed something?
And that too!
Emma, can you just tell me in plain English whats going on?
It just hurts, Tom! Im fed up!
Right I get the fed up but why? Are you exhausted?
Emma didnt answer. She just buried her nose in Toms shoulder, wriggled closer, and sighed, a silent confession.
Aha, got it. Okay then! Youre off kitchen duty full holiday!
Tom, what holiday? Its months till summer! And Ive got mountains to do!
Im not sending you off to the Bahamas, love. Im just freeing you from the stove! From today, Ill be doing the cooking!
Emma stared at him in disbelief.
You?
Of course! Or do you reckon blokes cant cook?
No, its not that. Dad was a great cook. I just never imagined youd fancy it
Why not? Just because youve never seen me at the hob doesnt mean I cant. Army taught me to peel spuds, at least, darling. The rest A little learnings a dangerous thing but well muddle through! Sebastian will help, wont you, old chap?
Tom
Yes, love?
I love you.
Me too! Will two weeks be enough?
No idea, Emma admitted honestly, you know how much I have on my plate right now.
Dont go splitting yourself in half. Focus on your work. The frying pans are mine.
And whatll Mum say?
Your mum? Who knows! Shell probably scold us for being helpless and chase me off the cooker. But I wont give in! Tom struck a heroic pose, hoisting the unsorted frying pan overhead. Am I not the man of the house? My words law round here isnt it?
Emma burst out laughing, and Sebastian finally relaxed. If she was laughing, things couldnt be all that bad.
The day would whirl on, scattering the family to their own routines. Later, the old clock a family heirloom from her mother would tick away the minutes. For over a century, that clock had been kept in the family, and Sebastian was always intrigued by the little grey bird that hopped out, always at the most inconvenient times. Hed only settle down, get nice and comfy, and cuckoo! there it was. Utter torment!
Every time Emma left for a meeting, shed pull on the heavy pinecone weight, wink at Sebastian.
Dont touch the bird, rascal!
The cat would bury his nose in his tail, huffing in mock indignation. As if hed ever touched the stupid thing.
A hush would settle, and Sebastian would curl up next to Alfie, warm and safe.
Until the evening.
Thats when Irene would come home with the grandchildren, and the children would compete to tell their granny everything that had happened at school and nursery.
Irene would be in stitches watching Max rehearse his role as Mushroom Number Three for the school play. Hed played the prince last time and now had to hand the star part to another boy.
But even fly agaric in Maxs rendition would be a smash hit, with Sophie and Irene clapping their hands raw. The nursery teachers would again urge Emma to put her boy in drama club.
What a waste of talent otherwise!
Sophie, having finished her homework, would come to the kitchen and shoo her granny away from the sink.
Gran, let me! Rest your hands!
And Irene would let her take over, only mildly objecting, then glance at the old clock and shake her head.
Your dads still working late and your mum hasnt called so busy, those two.
The children would already be asleep before their parents returned, one after the other. Irene would gently shut the nursery door, leaving them to their rest and the soft murmurs in the kitchen.
Whose meatball is this, all lonely on its own? Emma would ask.
Yours!
Ive eaten already. Besides, Im already on the chubby side!
Nonsense, youre gorgeous! The most beautiful woman in the world, you are! Eat up! Is the pasta good?
Delicious!
And you said I couldnt cook!
I never said that!
But you thought it! Same thing. Emma, how about we run off to the seaside this summer?
What, and forget about the renovations?
They can wait! You need a break. The house isnt going anywhere. The shells up, well finish the roof, the rest next year. What do you say?
I say my husband has ears.
Just ears?
No! And a massive heart. I also say I was right to choose you.
Oh, was there competition?
Tom! Let go of me! The children will wake up!
Not a chance now. You couldnt rouse them with a cannon! Emma, Im so lucky
And as Sebastian sat in the corridor, eavesdropping out of habit, he decided hed heard enough for one day. If theres peace in the house, a cat can rest easy. Hed pad into the nursery, leap onto Sophies bed (she didnt kick in her sleep, unlike Max) and take a well-earned nap.
Because, who knows what tomorrow will bring?
Perhaps more troubles, perhaps new joys.
Who can say?
One thing Sebastian always knew for sure. As long as the woman who kept their home smiled, all would be well.
