“You can stay if you cook for everyone,” her husband smirked.
“That neighbours complaining about the noise again,” grumbled Victor, tossing his keys onto the sideboard. “Says the music was on till half past eleven last night.”
“And wasnt it?” Elena asked without looking up from her magazine. “Your mates were shouting songs till the bitter end.”
“So what? It was Saturday. Ive a right to relax in my own flat.”
Elena said nothing. Arguing with him after last nights drinking was useless. His head must have been pounding, and his temper was unbearable.
“By the way, the lads are coming round again tonight,” Victor said, heading to the bathroom. “Well watch the match.”
“How many?” she asked wearily.
“Five or six. Didnt count exactly.”
Elena closed the magazine and checked the clock. Half two. So in a few hours, the flat would be chaos againshouting, drunken chatter, cigarette smoke. And tomorrow morning, piles of dirty dishes and ashtrays full of stubs.
“Vic, couldnt we skip the feast tonight?” she ventured. “Just have tea?”
He came out of the bathroom, drying his face with a towel.
“Are you daft? What sort of match night is it without snacks? The lads will be starving after work.”
“And whos cooking?”
Victor looked at her as though shed asked something obvious.
“Who always cooks? Youre the missus.”
“I was at the clinic all morning, then running to the shops, cleaning the flat,” Elena felt anger rise in her chest. “Im tired, Vic.”
“Fine, rest an hour, then get to it. Im not asking much. Just slice some ham, cheese, fry up some potatoes.”
Elena got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen. The lunch dishes were still on the table, unwashed pans piled in the sink. Shed have to clear it all and lay the table for his mates.
“Couldnt we order something?” she called from the kitchen. “Pizza or kebabs?”
“With what money?” Victor shot back. “Does it grow on trees? Youll cookcheaper and tastier.”
Elena started washing up, scrubbing each plate hard. Twenty-three years of marriage, and never once had he asked if she wanted rest or a night with friends.
When shed married Vic, hed seemed a proper manserious, hardworking, hardly drank. Most of all, hed promised to cherish her, never let her be slighted.
The first years were like that. Victor worked on building sites, came home tired but content. Elena worked at the library, cooked, cleaned, washed in the evenings. They lived simply but happily.
Everything changed when he got promoted to foreman. His wages rose, new friends came, and with them, new habits. First, he stayed late after work, then began bringing colleagues homefirst now and then, then more and more.
“Len, wheres the whisky?” he shouted from the living room.
“In the cabinet, top shelf.”
“Theres only one bottle. Wont be enough.”
“Then go buy more.”
“No time. You go, since youre cooking.”
Elena set a plate in the rack and sighed deeply. Again, shed dash to the shop, spending housekeeping money on drink for his mates.
“Couldnt we skip the alcohol?” she tried again. “Just get a few beers?”
“Dont be daft!” Victor stormed into the kitchen. “Beer? Its the decider, the lads freed up special time. Cant serve them beer.”
He put his hands on her shoulders.
“Why so glum? Just one night. Youll catch up on rest tomorrow.”
“Every weekend its just one night,” Elena murmured. “A match, someones birthday, or just because.”
“Lads work hard, need to unwind. You understand.”
“And dont I work?”
Victor dropped his hands and stepped back.
“Calling the library work? Shifting books about. Thats not workits a rest.”
A chill ran down Elenas spine. He always dismissed her job like that, as though it were nothing.
“So my works a rest?”
“Aye. Sitting quiet, chatting with polite folk. Me, Im on site dawn till dusk with rough blokes.”
Elena stayed silent. Arguing was pointless. Victor never understood that dealing with people was work toosolving problems, helping readers, running childrens clubs.
“Fine,” she said at last. “How many exactly?”
“Told youfive or six. Not sure whos coming.”
“What time?”
“Kick-offs at six. So theyll drift in by half five.”
Elena checked the clock. Three. Barely enough time to lay a proper table.
“Then give me money for food. And say what to buy.”
Victor dug into his jeans and pulled out a crumpled twenty-pound note.
“Enough?”
“For six? Hardly.”
“Then add something from home. The freezers packed.”
Elena took the money and dressed. The freezer did have meat, but it was for the week. Tomorrow, shed have to cook dinner again.
The shop was ten minutes away. Elena walked slowly, thinking. When had she become a servant in her own home? When had she stopped being a wife and turned into just a cook and cleaner?
At the till, the total was over twenty.
“Put back the crisps,” she told the cashier.
The nuts went too. Twenty pounds barely covered basics.
At home, Victor lounged on the sofa watching TV.
“Quick trip,” he said approvingly. “Whatd you get?”
Elena silently unpacked the bags. Little time left, much to do.
First, she peeled potatoes and set them frying. Then sliced ham and cheese, arranged them on a platter. Next, the saladchopped veg, tossed with mayo.
“Any hot food?” Victor asked, peeking in.
“Whatd you fancy?”
“Dunno. Burgers or chops. The ladsll be hungry.”
Elena checked the clock. Half four. If she started now, she might just manage.
“Fine. But help lay the table.”
“No time,” he waved her off. “Need a shower, tidy up. Cant greet the lads looking rough.”
Elena took meat from the freezer, started mincing it. Her hands ached, but she hurried. Guests at half five, and only cold cuts ready.
Victor did shower. Elena heard him humming, splashing. Easy for himmates coming soon, laughing, drinking, watching football. Shed be darting between kitchen and lounge, serving, clearing plates.
When he emerged, the first burgers were frying.
“Managing?” he asked, pulling on a clean shirt.
“So far. Help lay the table.”
“Just a shave, then Ill help.”
But shaved, Victor didnt lay the tablehe turned on the news and sat down.
“Vic, you promised!” Elena called.
“Later. Just catching the headlines.”
And at six tomorrow, shed rise for work. The library had a new projectcomputer classes for pensioners. Shed prepare materials, set up tech.
Flipping burgers, Elena thought this life might stretch on for years. Victor wouldnt change. He was used to her doing everything, never complaining, never asking help.
“Len, wherere the glasses?” he shouted.
“Cabinet, bottom shelf!”
“Cant see them!”
Elena dried her hands and went to look. They were exactly where shed saidhe hadnt bothered searching.
“Here,” she pointed.
“Oh, right. Missed them.”
Back in the kitchen, the burgers were done. Just the table left. She took out the white tablecloth saved for best. Though what was best here? Just his mates usual gathering.
At half five, the buzzer rang.
“First ones here!” Victor cheered. “Let them in!”
Elena pressed the button, quickly changed into a house dress. Wanted to look decentpeople were coming.
On the doorstep stood Steve and Mikeregulars for match nights. Three more men followed, strangers to Elena.
“Come in, lads!” Victor boomed. “Make yourselves at home!”
The men shed coats, settled round the table. Elena brought burgers, salad, cold cuts. Victor fetched whisky and beer.
“Right, ladsto the match!” he toasted.
Glasses clinked, the men drank, dug in. Elena lingered in the kitchen doorway, watching.
“Mrs. Carter, wont you join us?” asked Steve, always the politest.
“Thank you, but theres more to do,” she said.
“Go on,” Victor waved. “Sit down, you cooked.”
It sounded almost like permission. Elena moved to sit, but a stranger cut in:
“You can stay if you cook for everyone,” her husband smirked, heading out
