Settling In Comfortably

Ellie had always lived, as the saying goes, by the book, trudging along a dull, overused lane with her head bowed low, for what good was it to stick her neck out when, by any tally, she possessed no particular merit. Her looks were plain, nothing to set eyes upon.

Her husband, George, would often remark that everything about Ellie was ordinary. She never noticed her own charm; it had slipped from her long ago.

Once, Ellie had been among the first beauties at the universityslim, pleasantfaced, with a bone structure that, though a bit wide, still carried a genteel air. Her grandmother, Aunt Agnes, hailed from a modest village, sturdy and roughhewn, a trait she had inherited, though it clashed with scholarly pursuits.

Ellies blood ran with her fathers lineage. He and his brother had been gentlemen scholars, engineers and literary men, both universityeducated. They refined their daughter, polished her manners. Her nose was not like Aunt Agness, her shoulders were gently sloped rather than broadened, and her feet were not built for boots and clogs as they had been for her greataunt Martha, who had spent her youth tending horses. Instead, Ellies legs were unmistakably city ones.

Thus, by the time she came of age, Ellie was a pretty, wellmannered, painfully shy and quiet girlstill a virtue, in those days. Aunt Agnes could, at a moments notice, unleash a torrent of remarks that would curl ones ears, berating everything around her. Ellies mother, Olivia, had tried the same when she first married Ellies father, Frederick, but eventually bit her tongue and settled down. They lived in a respectable terraced house with a foyer full of ficus plants, not far from academics and celebrated scientists; any breach of propriety would see one swiftly shown the door.

Olivia quieted, and Ellie grew ever more reticent.

Raise a sturdy girl! Aunt Agnes would bark, wriggling out of her battered galoshes, long dulled by use. And you, dear Lily, youve wilted. The plain fields and wormwood are all that remains! Wherever the wind blows, youll bend. And where has our whole clan goneMerrion Street, eh? Dont know, soninlaw?

Frederick shrugged and kept his distance from his garlicscented, WhiteMoor motherinlaw, retreating to his study while Olivia brewed tea in the kitchen and listened to tales of her own life.

Aunt Agnes never hurried. She would first wax lyrical, tapping the tablecloth, recounting village gossip, then shift to the gardenher own harvest, the neighbours yield. Finally, with a clack of her teeth, she would call out for her granddaughter, hidden behind the kitchen doors glass pane.

Ellie emerged timidly, eyes flickering with doubt. Her mother turned away. Frederick never welcomed his motherinlaw, though he cracked the pickles shed brined in vodka. He warned Ellie to keep her distance from the old woman. Yet Olivia had been a great help to Ellie after the newborns arrival and when threeyearold Lily fell ill with pneumonia, grew gaunt, and ate nothing. Aunt Agnes once fetched the child in a winter carriage, swaddled in a great coat.

Frederick later cursed that letting her in had been a mistake, but Olivia soothed him. With good nutrition, Lily recovered swiftly and clung to her visiting mothers chest, sighing in relief. Frederick merely waved a hand, opened his mouth, shut it again, and eyed his motherinlaw askance.

Aunt Agnes possessed a strange, forceful presence, as if she could crush a conscience with a single glance, illuminating thoughts Olivia never dared consider. Even her soninlaw feared her.

Why does my soninlaw ignore me? Aunt Agnes would sigh dramatically while sitting at her daughters home, offering Ellie a large chocolate bar. Ellie nodded in thanks but placed the bar untouched on the table.

Come on, love, have a bite! the guest urged, but Olivia stopped her. Frederick wont allow sweets before dinner. Its not customary here she whispered, a remark that made Aunt Agness cheeks redden and left Olivia feeling awkward. Still, a man lived under the roof, and there was a head of the household! Olivia never truly became the matriarch; she kept her head down, glanced around, and stayed silent. When guests arrived for her husband, she set the table, smiled, and nodded. She had nothing to say; she was always at home, tending to the house, far from lofty debates.

Ellie learned from her mother not to stand out.

In time, Aunt Agnes could no longer bear staying at Fredericks house; everything irritated her. After a few heated arguments, she stopped visiting. Occasionally, when Frederick was away, shed call, listen to the long ring, lower her head, and then burst into tears, whispering, How are you, my dear? You never come to see me

Im fine, Auntie, Ellie would reply. Im at university, todays a holiday, Mums at the clinic, Dads at work. Life seemed simple, bound by rules, traditions, and the modest scale of the family.

Frederick was the head, educated and clever. Olivia, still simple, chewed sunflower seeds, spitting the shells into a palm. Frederick was annoyed, urging her to refine her snacking, but she could notor would notchange. He even banished her to the balcony, waving his hand at the door.

There, in a nightgown, with curls atop her head, she spat the shells, sighed, and gazed at her frail, pale legs. She thanked Frederick for rescuing her from the countryside, for giving her a home, for forgiving many faults, and for raising her.

Olivia had trained as a teacher; Frederick first saw her at a dance in the local park, a celebration for youths. Love sparked, bringing forth Ellie. Their parents were surprised by the match, but eventually deemed the union of a cultured city lad and a bustling country girl a noble blend. Frederick lifted Olivia toward the light of culture, and she settled in well.

Ellie followed her mothers path, graduated from university and chose teaching, yet never held a postjust like her mother. She married George, whose background was simpler than Fredericks, though still intellectual. By Ellies youth, the fashionable rockers and mods had eclipsed the old intelligentsia. George, however, was a retro man, shunning bright suits, reading heavy classics and philosophy, his mind always on twopage treatises. Frederick knew him from a modest project and approved the match.

Ellie, it seemed, accepted the arrangement without protest.

When she moved in with George, she entered a threeroom flat already occupied by his parents. His older sister had long since emigrated, perhaps to America or France. His parents, weary with age, soon ceded household authority to their daughterinlaw, urging George to take his wife and his father to the country cottage.

Go on, make yourselves comfortable, they said. We wont stay; the kitchen cant bear two heads.

The flat was lined with darkstained wooden panels, piles of sheets, pillowcases, towels, and bits of cloth in every hue, dotted with iron hooks, four sets of china, and countless pieces of crystal of varying value. Dim lamps flickered, and the windows stayed drawn to hide the neighboring houses prying eyes and Georges hidden stash of money. To Ellie, it felt gloomy.

She thought of repainting the curtains, swapping the furniture, perhaps refinishing the parquet, but such changes were costly and unnecessary for George. He was content as he was. Hed once been cared for by a mother who served him semolina porridge each morning; now Ellie filled that role, loving him, eager to please, never questioning.

On weekends George would rise early, fry eggs in his threadbare knickers, refusing to spend moneynothing to spare. Ellie would startle, eyes wide on the clock, wondering whether George would be out or stay home all day. Mostly they remained at home. He never went to theatre or cinema, fearing expenses.

His thriftiness, bordering on obsession, emerged slowly. While dating, Ellie thought George was merely a sturdy provider, clinging to each penny. She grew up believing a man decided everything, and a wife simply acquiesced. That was the norm.

George was an intellectual of humble origins; his parents lacked higher education, holding simple jobs, but delighted in the prospect of their sons and daughters fame. He aspired to become a scientist, now approaching forty, with a dissertation loomingplans for a country estate, among other grand schemes. He ruled his household with a firm hand.

Now youre stubborn! Aunt Agnes would exclaim, learning of Ellies news from Lily, her voice flaring. Why does she need a man like that? Plenty of decent fellows exist!

You dont understand, Mother! Ellie made the right choice. She has a flat in central London, a respectable job like my Frederick, and a husband of standing. A woman must secure herself, however humble that sounds. Being stingy it runs in the family. In the old days, every penny was counted, just like you.

Aunt Agnes took offense. She never squandered money, yet she never denied Olivia food or clothing. She insisted on a good coat, even if expensive, borrowing from neighbours and repaying every farthing. She had raised Olivia alone, without a husband, and would not let anyone else dictate her daughters path.

When Olivia prepared for university, Aunt Agnes took her to a dressmaker to pick the finest gown she could afford. There, Olivia met Frederick. Their union was solidified.

The two families rarely spoke after that, each keeping to themselves.

Ellie and George lived together. Georges early passion faded; the affection became routine, his strength waning with age. Ellie accepted this, content that he loved her and that her parents praised the match. The restwhispers of butterflies, shy breaths, intimate momentswere, in her view, unnecessary for a respectable life.

Money was scarce, but work was harder still.

George soon realized Ellies modest salary would also fill his purse, so he urged her to seek extra work, to upskill and earn more. She obliged, taking a teaching post, loving the children but returning exhausted each evening. George would lounge in the bedroom, reading, awaiting dinner.

She would serve the meal, hoping the night would end quickly so she could rest, while George sipped a small measure of whisky and mused philosophically, If you moved to the civil service, perhaps you could be a nanny! He would not buy her a coat for spring, promising autumn later.

One evening, his mouth dry, he leaned close to Ellies neck, his lips greasy, and whispered, Im pregnant. Please, I feel terribledont touch me

Ellie, trembling, retorted, Dont

George stared, his eyes wide as if the concept of children were a foreign riddle. But we? He stammered, always calculating, never comfortable with unforeseen events. Its untimely, Ellie. No, we must stop. Its latemake tea, just a small pot, enough for a month. Then tomorrow, after work, well consult. Understand?

Ellie glared at him, his oily scent reminiscent of canned sardines, his face smeared with grime. She gagged, vomited onto his lap. He sprang up, cursed, hurled her into the kitchen, shouted in the bathroom as soap slipped from his hands, and cursed profusely.

When he emerged, the house seemed untouchedtiny perfume bottles, a coat and boots bought the previous spring, a few loose papersyet Ellie was gone. He stood, bewildered, then poured a shot of homemade spirit, drank it down, and switched on the television for the weather report, another lie.

Ellie eventually gave birth to a thin boy, Kieran, as Aunt Agnes had predictedlike a fiddler, always tall and lean. Olivia tended to the infant while George, now more reflective, assembled toy soldiers and miniature cars for him. Dad, hes only six months! Ellie would laugh. Hell grow up fine, Frederick would assure, spreading toys across the table.

Kierans arrival seemed to launch the family into a new, peculiar chapter. Aunt Agnes visited often, bringing vigor; Olivia began stitching baby clothes, her home economics training finally proving useful. George would wander the hallway, watching Ellie swaddle Kieran, then head out for a stroll with the pram.

Aunt Agnes, now frail, would admonish, Check his hat, protect his ears! And yours, you poor thing! Her voice softened as she watched them.

George grumbled about discipline, claiming it was his childs and his own business, yet he often bowed to the watchful eyes of his parents and Aunt Agnes alike.

One day, as George knocked on the garden gate, he found everything out of order: the greenhouse placed incorrectly, the rows of vegetables better set crosswise, a faulty lantern on the porch still flickering. He called out, Ellie! Ellie, its time to come home! The voice of Aunt Agnes answered, bright and warm, Havent you dusted yourself off from the journey? George barked, Summon my wife! She replied, Shes asleep, dear. Shell stay a while longer. The girl was fooled into thinking youre the best. Bring her some things, love, and

What things? Is she planning a divorce? George retorted, irate. It happens, dear, sometimes, Aunt Agnes said, sighing. Enough. Im off to bed.

George, flustered, demanded, Return my ring! I bought it myself! Aunt Agnes huffed, slipped behind a curtain, emerged, and tossed the ring onto the lawn. It rolled into the grass.

George fell to his knees, searched frantically, and finally retrieved it, glowering at the smiling old woman. Got it? Fine then. Farewell, old friend. Well be sleeping all afternoon. She shut the window, drew the curtains, and left him to stare at the curious neighbours across the hedges, tempted to utter a coarse insultan old habit of his drunken fatherbut he remembered his impending doctorate, his unfinished thesis, and held his tongue.

They divorced quietly, swiftly. Ellie packed her belongings, and George even helped load them into a cab, telling nosy neighbours the separation was temporary for the childs sake.

Later, George returned to the empty flat, sat at the kitchen table, tipped a dram of whisky mixed with waterhis fathers remedydown the hatch, and turned on the television for the weather, another falsehood.

Ellies son, Kieran, grew strong and lanky, as Aunt Agnes had said. Olivia, while Ellie worked, fetched toys from the local Childrens World shop. Dad, hes only six months! Ellie would giggle. Buy more, youll thank me later, Frederick replied, arranging the toys.

Thus, amidst the intergenerational trioAunt Agnes, Olivia, and Ellieeach longing for a harmonious life, the family endured. The memories linger, a tapestry of thrift, stubbornness, and quiet hope, stitched together by the steady rhythm of English days long past.