Not Welcome
The dog started barking as the gate creaked open. My son was walking into the garden, an English girl at his sidehed brought home his fiancée for us to meet.
The moment my wife saw her, she threw up her hands in dismay.
Good heavens, what on earth has he brought into our home? John, just look at her! Shes nothing but a stick insect. What a misery. Hows she ever going to bear him children? What are we going to do?
Unlike my wifewho had long ago given up caring about appearances, now stout and cumbersomeI saw something very different. Where she saw a willowy waif, I saw true beauty, elegance, and femininity. A wide grin spread across my face, and I smoothed down my bushy moustache with satisfaction.
My wife had long since started dressing in clothes that added years to her age, favouring loose, floral blouses and voluminous skirts shed sewn herself out of printed calico. Her wardrobe seemed chosen specifically to give her the shape of a barrel. There was little concern for style or allure. Throw on a scarf and Im ready, was her motto every morning. There was just so much work to be done around herecows, pigs, endless choresand in the past, hurrying off to the fields meant long days under the sun. Who had time for beauty when you had crops to sow and animals to tend? And now shed retired, shed grown thoroughly matronlyslow-moving, waddling gently around the garden like a duck on a pond. There was no rush anymore; we were alone, with the sons grown and gone, living their lives in far-off cities. It was rare to see them, even rarer to see the grandchildren except in pictures.
Our youngest, Edward, was still here, nearby. My wife had been hoping hed marry a reliable country womana sturdy girl from down the lane, rosy-cheeked and strong, who could handle the livestock even better than a man when push came to shove. Id lost count of how many times shed encouraged our son:
Go see Maryshed make a lovely wife! Times come for her, and shed bear strong children, mark my words.
But Edward was stubborn.
Ill find my own wife when the times right, hed grumble, refusing to be swayed.
Now, hed brought home this slip of a thing! And from the city, tooa wisp, a mere shadow. Where on earth did he find her?
My wife didnt know the truth about this girl, Alice. Beneath her delicate frame was a will of iron and hands skilled in far more than they seemed. Shed worked hard all her life. When Alice was just twelve, her mother fell gravely ill, unable even to rise from bed. The housework fell entirely to Alicemilking the cow, cooking, keeping everything in order. Her father, at first disconsolate, eventually rallied, helping his daughter as best he could. After two months, her mother was up and about again, delighted by Alices cheerful energyher quick, light feet seemed to bring sunshine into the house. She got everything done nimbly and with a song.
But now, guests must be greeted; you couldnt exactly hide behind the shed while your sons fiancée stood in your garden. My wife greeted Alice with stiff politeness, her gaze harsh and unyielding. Nosy neighbours peered through windows and over fences, whispering their opinions about the outsider.
Alice was clearly uncomfortable; everything was unfamiliar to her. Her parents’ house was large and flooded with light, each room spacious and pleasant. Here, everything seemed shrunken: even the doorways were so low you had to duck to get through. One tiny roomintended for guestscontained a heaped bed with pillows stacked high and covered by a lacy spread. The parents’ own room was really just a glorified entryway where coats hung on pegs and, during meals, they sat at a table near the door. To Alice, it looked more like a mudroom than a living space. The whole cottage was crowded, with a strange, alien scentfloral soap, perhaps. My wife put bars of soap smelling of strawberries and lilies into every cupboard so that all the linens would carry the fragrance. The smell permeated everythingtowels, sheets, even socksbut Alice just kept her confusion to herself, listening to the unfamiliar quiet of this miniature world.
The first meeting went stiffly, without warmth. Alice barely touched her food at dinner; the fatty soup, the bitter salad, the greasy piesshe took some bread, quietly thanking everyone and insisting she was full.
My wife was furious. She practically shook with indignation at the table but held back, cowed by my warning glance.
Who does she think she issome princess, expecting restaurant food? she muttered to me. Well, this is whats on offereat it or go hungry. Ill show her what it means to refuse my cooking.
Leave her be, love, I replied. Shell get used to it.
After lunch, we men set out to cut hay, and my wife promptly sent Alice off to the vegetable patch to cut all the dill, giving her a basin and a knife, then settling herself in the summer kitchen, giggling to herself about how shed soon be regaling her friends with tales of the city girls failures.
Wait until shes knackered, shell eat whatever I put in front of her. Maybe Ill get her digging next, my wife thought with a sneer.
Alice soon reappeared.
What, forgotten something? Or has your back given out? my wife snapped.
Ive finished. Do you need any more help?
Youve finished?! Outrun into the garden, she saw the whole basin stacked with dill, a neat pile set beside it. How had she managed it in five minutes? My wife couldnt tell.
Right, then, tie it into bunches for market, she snapped, passing out twine before heading off to nap far from the annoying girl, praying shed never have to see her again. After muttering a prayer before the bedroom icon, she dozed deeply for three hours before jerking awake.
Mercy me, its already gone fourmy chaps will be back any minute, and nothings ready. Just you wait, AliceIll have you peeling an entire sack of potatoes, see how you like it! She shuffled about, refitting her headscarf, struggling to get her foot into her slipper, and finally went outside.
On the bench stood the dill, perfectly bunched and soaking in water. Singing floated out from the kitchen.
Shes even singing! The nerve, my wife grumbled.
Just then, our motorcycle buzzed into the drive; the men were home from the fields.
Heavens, theyre here and Ive done nothingso much to do! she muttered as she hurried, or rather, waddled to the kitchen. But when she entered, she was stunnedthe table was laid, salads cut, bread sliced, a stack of pancakes, and a steaming bowl of potatoes with meat awaiting them. And the aroma!
Youhow when did you do all this? my wife asked, utterly bemused.
Just need to fetch the cream and we can eat, Alice replied cheerily.
She dashed out with a tea towel and greeted us men with a grin.
Go on, freshen upIve brought water and a towel, she said, giving a playful peck to Edward and hanging the towel over his shoulder.
Good girl, son, I declared. Lovely girl, really. I approve!
Around the table, we ate heartily, full of praise for the meal and the capable hands that prepared it. My wife, though, wouldnt touch a bite. The compliments stung her like knives.
Im still stuffed from lunch, she muttered when anyone asked, had too much soup with those pies. Later, she ordered Alice to go milk the cow, determined to catch her out.
Just then the cow wandered into the garden, heading straight for her usual place.
Heres your pailgo on, and dont come back without milk, said my wife, rubbing her hands in anticipation of Alice failing at last.
Alice beamed, grabbed the bucket, and ran to the cow.
You silly thing, my wife muttered, just wait till that cow kicks you, itll serve you right. She settled on the bench to await the chaos.
The neighbour poked her head over the fence, curious.
Hows your posh city girl, then, Mary?
Oh, you know, gold dust, our lads brought home. Can cook, clever, good with her hands!
Bit skinny, though, that one.
Its not like Im planning to put her in the stew pot. Shes not a side of pork, is she?
Well, I dont think she suits your son at all.
My son doesnt care for your opinion. You focus on your own brood; mine has eyes enough for himself. She can do the lotshes milking our cow right now while I have a sit-down. Where do you have a daughter-in-law like that?
Oh, drop it, the neighbour huffed and went back inside.
Take that, you old gossipgossip about my son again, I dare you.
Meanwhile, Alice was stroking the cow, offering her some salted brown bread.
There now, my lovely, youve worked hard all day. Eat upgood girl, she murmured, and the cow gazed back at her with deep affection. Alice carefully washed the udder, dried it, and began milking, her gentle hands moving expertly. Loving praises fell from her lips as she finished and returned, a full pail of milk in hand.
Just look at her, mothera proper daughter for us! She can do anythingclever, kind, and so capable. Our Edwards a lucky man, I said, filled with admiration. I confess, I almost envied my son; if such a one had come my way in my youth, Id have whisked her away, mark my words!
My wife bit her lip in frustration. No matter what she tried, the city lass bested every test, met every challenge, and my praise only fuelled her irritation. She simply could not accept her sons choice, didnt want to. She brooded and poured herself a stiff measure to calm her nerves, but the rebellion in her heart would not die. In the morning, she planned further trials. But that night she dreamt of an awful witch drinking blood from her very heartwaking before dawn in a cold sweat, she felt wrung out, heavy with grief.
She crept into the next room. Edward was peacefully asleep, Alice nestled close to his shoulder. The first sunbeams stretched in, painting their faces in gentle light.
Such a child, that one; so pretty, such a tiny nose, such fair skin, she thought, gazing at her own work-worn hands, her wrinkled face reflected in the glass. How Ive agedI never even noticed. My bodys coarsened, my soul too, perhaps.
Alice blinked awake, and instead of fear, she simply asked quietly:
Is it time to milk the cow? Ill go at once.
No, no, my wife replied, softening, sleep on, its too early yet. I was just getting my medicine.
Are you feeling unwell?
No, no, Im all right. Go back to sleep. She gently closed the door behind her. An overwhelming wave of shame washed over her. She, an adulta motherhad been bullying this young woman, who, in her innocence, cared enough to ask after her health. What was she to Alice? A stranger, nothing more. Yet Alice loved her son, and his parents had welcomed her as their own. How could she refuse such a good manno drinking, no smoking, hard-working, with a decent wage? We raised a fine son, theres pride in that. And the girlso resourceful, quick, and attentive. What more could we ask?
She smiled. Why couldnt she be a good mother-in-lawno, a motherafter all? Shed never had a daughter, only sons. Perhaps now was her moment to know that happiness. With this thought, calm flooded her mind and she relaxed. She tossed aside her pills and slipped back into bed beside me, drawing close.
The old clock ticked quietly, counting off a different sort of timea time now filled with an unconditional love that wrapped the whole house in its strong embrace. From that day on, I knewit would all be right.
