Sorry for the late updating, but here's a new chapter. Enjoy!
In the small kitchen Kitty cooks tonight's dinner. Meanwhile, her thoughts wander off to her first marriage, more than ten years ago now.
She then stood at the head of a household, but in reality that household functioned like a well oiled machine, so there was no need for Kitty to interfere. She only approves the cook's menu. All the daily and dirty chores were done for her, without her even knowing it.
If she thinks back, it was actually an empty life, overshadowed by the fear of her then-husband and his aggressive, unpredictable behavior.
Until Sylvie was born. Kitty experienced the birth of her first child as a miracle without parallel. Elliot was deeply disappointed and angry that it was only a girl. He desired a son, a successor.
And he made that very clear. When Kitty two years after Sylvie's birth miscarried, he was furious. Nothing stopped him in his anger. Mistreatment and abuse, fear for his next tantrum and ultimately the fear of her life were the reasons she eventually fled with Sylvie.
That was also fully exploited by Elliot. With the result that Kitty had not seen her daughter for more than four years now.
Her present life could not be more different than the life she led more than ten years ago.
No parade of servants, no endless social obligations, no fear of her husband. She's pregnant, that's the only similarity. And unlike her first pregnancy, she is married to a man who loves her and cares for her.
And now the household's her job. They're living in a small, modest house, there is an occasional worker to clean and do the laundry. The rest of the household is the task of Kitty. And she enjoys it, she does like it. But she never ever considered that it is such a chore to cook a proper, tasty dinner.
During her upbringing were other things more important, such as playing the piano, lighthearted and meaningless conversation and especially good manners.
In the hospital in France, she learned making beds, scrubbing pots and dress wounds. Tough work, but also really satisfying.
She just never learned how to cook. She could make tea and bake an egg, that was all she mastered.
In those early days of their marriage, the food she had been cooking turned out disastrous. Undercooked, overcooked, burnt, it all happened to her. No salt in the food or too much salt in the food by which they were nearly poisoned.
Thomas always manfully ate his plate empty. He didn't complain about her cooking skills and to encourage her, he told her that in his youth, he ate mostly every day the same food, mainly potatoes with dripping, or just bread. Back then, it was a blessing when he and his family got enough to eat at all, according to Thomas.
He had once even tried to help her. He peeled potatoes with surgical precision, but when it came to cook them, he knew no more than Kitty how doing it. Then, he bought her a cookbook as a gift. But it didn't help Kitty and she was horrified because she could not turn a decent meal on the table.
And then, after a couple of weeks in which she struggled with the cooking, Thomas's parents came to visit them in London.
Kitty had never met them. That fact alone was enough to make her nervous.
She had no idea how his parents were and she worried if she would be accepted by them Kitty could only compare them with her own parents, her father, who was deceased long ago, and her mother, who had declared her dead.
Thomas had told Kitty that she should not worry about his parents, they were good, lovely people. He was convinced that Kitty would get along well with them.
But Kitty was also concerned about what she would cook for his parents. How on earth could she give them decent food?
When Kitty told him that the food took her a bunch of headaches, Thomas had laughed and said: "Don't worry about it. When my mother arrives, everything will be all right, you'll see."
That did not reassure Kitty, but Thomas had been right. When she and Thomas went to the station to pick them up, Kitty was astonished when she saw how glad both Thomas and his parents were to see each other again. They were obviously happy and in the presence of his parents, Thomas was just a loving and beloved son.
His parents were lovely. His father was a quiet and sober man, twisted, but with shiny eyes and snowy hair and enormous, calloused hands. His mother was a small woman, with radiant blue eyes, open-hearted and affectionate.
When they arrived in their small house, Kitty had provided them with tea and after a while she had - way too soon, of course-, departed to the kitchen to prepare the food.
Within a few minutes, Thomas's mother had followed her, and if it was the most natural thing in the world, she had been entered into an apron and said, "Well Kitty, what do you want me to do?"
Kitty, with red spots of agitation in her face, looked at her.
"I do not know, " she stammered. "I never know where to begin, and though I read a recipe so good yet, then the food is still wrong and it fails. I cannot cook, I cannot even give you a decent meal."
Thomas mother smiled, looked at what Kitty had on display and said: "Every beginning is difficult. I'll help you. We'll manage."
And so it happened. Kitty and Thomas's mum cooked dinner together, as if they had never done anything else. It had been a good and tasty meal.
The wonder was that Kitty, while they were cooking, had poured her heart out to Thomas's mother. She had told her about Sylvie, the fact that she had a daughter, whom she had not seen for years.
She knew that Thomas had not told his parents about her past and about Sylvie, but his mother was a nice and understanding woman. Kitty could not imagine why she would not know, it seemed foolish not to tell her.
Thomas mother stayed a while with them. She helped Kitty out and after a few weeks she went back to Scotland. Kitty missed her, not only for the good advice and cooking classes, but mainly as a mother. Thomas's mother knew how cruel it was not being able to see your own child. And also because she was not hampered by conventions or prejudices, she loved and accepted Kitty just the way she was. And Kitty loved her for that.
And today, thanks to the mother of Thomas, Kitty was able to prepare a decent meal
She hears a key cracking in the lock and there is Thomas, coming home after work.
I would be glad about feedback. Your questions, comments and suggestions are very welcome. I'd really like to hear from you. Greets!