Page 11 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
3
Ingrida Valenko
Barry Manilow’s song, it play inside my head and my feet tap out the steps on the kitchen floor as I prepare the meal.
I place the empty colander on my head and check my fingers are in correct position in the reflection of the eye-level microwave. I can also see Neil, behind me at the table, bent over his computer. He is concentrating very hard and does not notice my jazz hands or my movements as I triple walk to pick up the salt. I twist and leap before adding a grind of salt to the saucepan, then lift the colander from my head to sweep it around my body, switching hands on the way.
The routine, it varies depending on whose position I take. As the reserve, I will need to step into someone’s place at a moment’s notice so I must know the moves of everyone else.
Neil does not look up as I repeat the dance first as Ruby then Fay, Janine, Bonnie, Cath, Asha, and Monica – though God forbid Monica does not make it to Paris. I do not think we will do well in the competition if she is not there.
I taste the beef stew and, satisfied with both this and my dance practice, I check the clock and go down the hall to the lounge and turn off the television just as theCBeebiesprogramme has finished.
‘Children, dinner is almost ready. Wash up your hands.’
Returning to the kitchen, I smile at Neil who glances up at me, his brows furrowed.
‘Is everything with your work OK, Neil?’ I ask him this question almost every day, but he answers me the same each time.
‘Nothing I can’t sort.’ The frown on his face melts away.
I would like him to share with me his problems. After all, we are now married – I smile every time I think of this. Perhaps English men do not tell their wives about work troubles?
I give the stew a quick stir and start to chop the salad.
‘Come here.’ Neil beckons me over. ‘Love the dance steps, by the way. You must remember to pack the colander for Paris.’
I laugh, discard the salad and cross to him. He grabs me by my waist and squeezes me. I wish my waist was not quite so big. I know I have put on much weight over the last year, I think two sizes of dress. But Neil, he does not seem to care. He pulls me close for a kiss. I am still pinching myself to think, in actual truth, I am Neil’s wife. It all happened so quickly. Our secret – for now – and it make my heart sing.
We hear the children thump down the hall, and I quickly pull away.
They have completely accepted me as their new mama, but I do not like them to see Neil and I embrace. It seems wrong, even though Maya – God rest her soul –passed away almost two years ago. Lizzy was just a tiny baby, Theo was toddler and Grace barely four-years-old when Maya become ill. When Lizzy began to talk, she start to call me Mama, but I tell her, no – her mama is in heaven – and I insist she call me Ingrida like her siblings. She could only pronounce my name as Guy-da and this name, it stick. Both the older children also now call me Guy-da. I warm inside when I hear it. Inside my head, where I am now thinking almost all the time in English, I give a new translation to this word Guy-da. It means the same as Mama to me. I have come to love these children as much as if I had birthed them myself, and I hope Maya approves of me from her place in heaven.
I will look after them for you, Maya. It is my promise.
Theo, he bounds into the kitchen followed by Grace who is straining to carry her little sister. They first hug their father, then me, before sitting down at the table. I thank God they accept me with – how do you say in English? – ah yes, without reserve. Perhaps it is because they were so young when their poor mama died. She had the diagnosis of advanced-stage cancer and was in hospital for many months.
I felt so sorry for her. I know what it is like to have cancer. I was very lucky to recover from mine. Poor Maya she was not so lucky. We get to know each other when I nursed her in St Ann’s Hospice. It was where I met Neil.
He was forced to look on without any way to help as his wife grew weaker by the day. I took the children to the play area so Neil could be alone with Maya. Grace help me give Lizzy her bottle, and we both pushed Theo on theswing. We grew so close.
It seemed like most natural thing to say yes when Maya ask me to help with the children. Neil had to return to work part-time – he does an especially important job and supplies medical equipment to the poor countries of the world – and he could not do this and look after the children by himself. So, I change my shifts at the hospital and spent as many hours as I could with them.
When Maya, she pass away, Neil said it was crazy for me to pay rent for my flat. He said I could move into his spare room and become a live-in nanny. I know of other Latvian women who do this kind of job. I was happy to help, and I look after the little ones who often came to sleep with me in my bed in those early days when they missed their mama.
I was glad to leave my nurse accommodation where I had to share a kitchen with five others. With everyone working different shifts, we had to creep around the place, so we did not wake up those who sleep in the day. I was very lonely there, and I was glad to move to Neil’s family house.
It is true that God works in mysterious ways. We slowly became our own little family and I help with settling Grace into school then later Theo into nursery. With my shifts at St Ann’s and with being so busy helping Neil and the children I did not see anyone else for maybe best part of a year. Well, apart from my work colleagues and my dance friends.
I know now, this was all part of God’s plan, to get to know Neil and his children in and out… no, that isnot the correct English term… Ah yes, inside out. And while I was full of sadness, Neil had lost his beautiful wife, I found myself becoming very fond of him. When I was not working at the hospital, we stayed up talking every evening, late into the night. Of course, I did not say anything about my feelings – I was only there to help him – but then one night, not so long ago, he tell me I had make big difference to his life and he held my hand.
‘Ingrida, you’ve been my saving grace. I need to ask you, are you happy here?’
‘Yes, I am very happy.’
‘But one day, maybe a while away, you’ll leave?’
‘I… I do not want to leave. Unless you wish me to…’
