Being with her was enough hell for any reasonable man

I can remember my heart sinking at various moments when visiting some friends.  Invariably, you would be having a lovely cup of coffee and a nice chat when the door would open and two things would happen.  The hostess’s hand would start to shake so much that her coffee cup would rattle against the saucer and her face would portray that look of frightened horror that I have come to dread.  It usually meant that the person coming through the door was their husband and to be found having a cup of coffee relaxing with friends, while they worked, was a provocation that they felt inappropriate.  Had they been ironing, dusting, cooking or cleaning, it would have been fine.  Nothing much would be admitted as introductions were made to all there but beneath the surface you could feel the strain.  Someone would pay for this indiscretion and the hostess knew it was probably her. 

Not, that this was always the case.  Far from it, many friends had no such reaction and would joke merrily with a steady hand on their coffee cup.  I grew to love that solid stability it felt robust and healthy.  Mind you at times you did feel sorry for husbands.  One friend, Ellie,  would smuggle her many purchases home and hide them in a friend’s apartment for a couple of weeks, so when her husband asked was that a new dress she could answer confidently and truthfully, “No, I have had this weeks!” 

Ellie was a character though and her whole block consisted of like minded women, who seemed to be wearing pyjamas all the time when at home.  Then, I realised they would come home from work and change into these comfortable working pyjamas.  They would pop in and out of each other’s apartments and I envied their unity and laughter.  Once Ellie was late, as usual, running her sons to school and raced out the door in her pyjamas and slippers to drive them there.  Her best friend, the neighbour above, apparently leant over the balcony and shouted, “I hope the car brakes down, while you are dressed like that!”  Usually, she could drop the boys off without getting out of the car or being seen by anyone, but one day the car did indeed break down and poor Ellie had to walk in her fluffy slippers, hair dishevelled and pink pyjamas exposed all the way home.  It was highly unfortunate, for Ellie, that of all the people who met her on the road that day her mother-in-law was included.  There are definitely days that go from bad to worse.

Ellie came back from a longed for holiday in Paris unusually angry.  She told me that if her husband went to hell, then she wanted to go to heaven and if he died and went to heaven she would prefer hell!  This was a bit strong, I felt, but she claimed that the whole holiday he had complained about the price of coffees, the shops, the hotel, the roads and even the food.  He’s ruined the whole holiday, she muttered and that was it, no more trips with him.  She was an exuberant character and actually a lovely person but explosive.  When, I eventually met her husband he turned out to be a nice mild mannered man who treated Ellie with a teasing good humour.  They seemed to get away with saying any outrageous thing to each other without causing lasting offence.  Even the comment about heaven and hell was repeated loud enough for him to overhear, he just snorted in amusement when he heard it, and responded that being with her was enough hell for any reasonable man.

It has been said that marriage should be a fortress for well-being. I know it has been heartening to meet those that have created that space within their union that protects and nurtures.  Mighty fortresses indeed.