“We usually keep them on at home,” my mother says.
“I see. Keep them on, then. What matters is that you feel comfortable.”
“I’m Jemma’s dad, Vance. We’ve been looking forward to meeting you! Of course we didn’t put any pressure on Jemma, we knew this opportunity would come in its own time.”
I step forward to introduce myself. “Ashford, Jemma’s husband.”
My mother reaches out her hand palm down, as she’s used to hand kissing. “Lady Delphina Parker, widowed Duchess of Burlingham.”
In response, Vance doesn’t only take her hand in his grasp, but he also throws his other arm around her neck, dragging her into an enthusiastic hug. I hope there’s a hospital nearby.
“By jings, our daughter’s mother-in-law! Carly, come and meet her!”
“I’m draining the bulgur! Give me a minute!”
“And so you live in the countryside, eh? That’s pure barry! Carly and I really miss the freedom of open spaces.”
My mother clears her throat. “We come from our family manor house, Denby Hall. We don’t live in the countryside.”
“What my mother means is that we do live in the countryside, which is much greener and quieter compared to the chaos of a metropolis like London, but the area is quite populated and we have many neighbours. In other terms, we are not isolated on the heath.” Vance seems to be a nice person, I won’t allow my mother to make these people feel uncomfortable in their own house with her cold, sour answers.
Yes, it’s true, this is not the kind of environment we call home, but we’re guests, so our good manners must prevail over any prejudice.
Jemma and Carly return to the room with a large bowl. “Dinner’s ready!” And so saying, my mother-in-law puts the bowl on a low table surrounded by cushions of various shapes.
Jemma and her parents sit on their knees on the floor, and Vance invites us to join them. “Come on, or we’ll eat everything ourselves!”
I sit between Jemma and Vance, while Carly draws my mother towards her as if she were welcoming her sister. “Come here, Delphina! This is the most comfortable cushion. It comes from Kazakhstan!” And she starts filling her plate. “Here you go, a nice spoonful for you.”
Jemma and Vance don’t blink an eye while they serve themselves generously.
“What’s this?” Asks my mother, sceptically, poking the food on her wooden plate with her fork.
“Tabbouleh,” explains Jemma. “It’s a typical Lebanese dish with bulgur wheat, a whole grain. It’s seasoned with a mix of spices and vegetables.”
My mother pushes her plate away. “I could be allergic.”
Witnessing another gesture of discourtesy, I take the spoon and I fill my plate with a more than lavish portion. “There’s more for us, then.” In the army, when I was stationed in Kandahar, the food I ate was by far much stranger; I believe I will survive eating a whole grain.
21
Jemma’s Version
I thought I would be at ease in my house, but I’m not and the reasons are clear in my mind, as if they were lit up by flashing neon lights. Number one: I’m afraid that Delphina may come up with something unpleasant. My parents are good but they’re not stupid, and their patience has a limit if put to the test. Number two: I’m equally afraid my parents may embarrass me by discussing intimate details regarding Ashford and me, given that they’re veterans of the sexual revolution and they face such topics as easily as one may talk about the weather. Number three: inexplicably, I would like to make a good impression on Ashford.
I don’t exactly understand why, but I’m trying to detect any kind of signal that could tell me what he’s thinking.
As to as the last point, I feel rather uncomfortable. Our duke, the open book I have learned to read, interpreting every nuance of hate, disgust, and irritation, has no negative reaction whatsoever tonight.
He is there, he looks around, he replies kindly to my father, he compliments my mother on her cooking – are you serious? – and he’s not teasing me or making unpleasant remarks of any kind. He looks almost at ease.
For the whole dinner, my parents told of the journeys they made in their youth, the concerts they went to, their life in communes and kibbutzim, and Ashford listened to them with interest. Then, since Delphina hardly touched any food, my mother diagnosed her with an aura vibration frequency disorder, and she took her to the terrace to show her all the Bach flower plants and make an extract for her.
Meanwhile, Ashford remained at the table, and is now eating slices of rye bread with rice cheese.
I fear that he’s pretending just because I’m here as he knows that I’d give him the roughest time of his life if he behaved unkindly. Therefore, I go to the kitchen with the excuse of rinsing the plates and I hide behind the door to listen.
I hear my father’s voice very clearly. “You know, Ashford, you’re so different from the kind of man who usually attracts Jemma.”
