jmgoyder

That first overnight I stayed at the farm was the only time I ever slept on the floor beside Inna’s bed. I didn’t know why she was so frightened that night except that she thought Husband-to-be had gone out and left her alone. He had never gone out and left her alone before, but they must have discussed it before asking me to stay.

Her bed was positioned in the centre of the room, surrounded by a pale pink carpet, so I simply fetched a pillow from the spare room where I was supposed to sleep, and cuddled down very comfortably. A couple of times, during the night, Inna reached her arm down to squeeze my hand and I squeezed back.

Eventually, Husband-to-be’s veranda party ended and I heard him go to bed in the adjacent bedroom. It was only then that Inna and I went to sleep, our fingers still loosely entwined.

Eventually, Husband-to-be and his mother, Inna, asked if I would be able to stay the night occasionally, just in case Husband-to-be wanted to go out. With my parents’ permission I agreed to do this.

On the first of these stayovers, I was uncertain as to my role because, even though I was now used to preparing breakfast, lunch, and getting dinner ready for Inna to cook, I had never stayed beyond 5pm. That’s when I usually hopped on my bicycle and rode home.

So the 5pm ritual was a bit of a shock to me because that was when Inna and her son (Husband-to-be), and various family and friends, all congregated in the back veranda for ‘drinks’ after the cows were milked. Inna would already have a teacup filled with whisky and soda (I was so naive at the time that I just thought drinking whisky and soda out of a teacup was normal). That first evening I wasn’t quite sure what I was supposed to do, so I served drinks, put the dinner in the Aga, unpacked my little bag in the spare room and said a little prayer.

In the middle of my little prayer of bewilderment, I heard Husband-to-be’s huge voice calling “JULES!” and, thinking it might be an emergency with Inna, I ventured out of the spare room into the kitchen, then out to the veranda which had become rather noisy with chatter and clinking and laughter. Inna saw me and waved her walking stick to the chair next to her, “Come and have a drink with us, Darling,” and Husband-to-be handed me a glass full of something frothy.

He didn’t end up going out that night, so I wasn’t quite sure why I was there in the first place until, in the middle of the night, Inna called me to her bedroom and told me to sleep on the floor next to her because she was nervous of the dark.

So I did what I was told.

The day after the moonflowers blooming,  I arrived on my bicycle as usual, with a feeling of trepidation and anticipation. I knew that something had passed from Husband’s hand to mine in that brief moment but I didn’t know what it was exactly.

I got Inna up and brought her favourite breakfast to her bedside. She sat up on the edge of her bed and took the bowl of Cornflakes, sliced banana, cream and sugar, gave me a smile and called me ‘Darling’ for the first time. By this time I had been working for her for around two months and I had determined myself to love her no matter what because, you see, she was very impatient with my ineptitude and often rather gruff so I think I saw our relationship as a sort of challenge. It wasn’t a very difficult challenge because I adored her and she fascinated me. So, when she called me ‘Darling’ I was elated and grinned my way back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for Husband and the men.

It was wonderful to finally feel accepted by Inna, and, bright with confidence, I put the frypan onto the Aga, filled it with water and began the egg poaching. Then I put the toast into the automatic toaster, turning it up a little so it would toast faster. I wanted to have breakfast ready before Husband came in from milking; I wanted to have it all beautiful and perfect.

When Inna called me to get her up and dressed, I ran in to help her, forgetting about the toast, so, by the time Husband and the men entered the kitchen, there was quite a lot of smoke around the unpredictable toaster and the burning smell filled the small house quickly. But I didn’t smell it because I was so busy with Inna.

So, when I heard Husband’s voice, booming “Jules!” I left Inna partially dressed and raced back into the kitchen, thinking maybe, just maybe, Husband had picked me one of the moonflowers.

Instead, he picked up the burnt toast and said, nastily, “You are bloody hopeless!”