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.
