A Woman's Work by Victoria Purman

Author:Victoria Purman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQ Fiction
Published: 2023-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Hamburgers

1 lb minced beef

½ medium onion, chopped finely

2 tbs parsley

2 eggs

½ cup breadcrumbs

salt and pepper to taste

Kathleen

‘So, let’s have a look.’ Violet pushed her cat’s-eye glasses up her nose and leant towards the Women’s Weekly open on Kathleen’s kitchen table.

She probably—no, definitely—needed new glasses, given how close to the print she was hovering. But it was one of those things her mother never seemed to get around to doing. She’d stopped knitting too, Kathleen noticed. Violet said it gave her a headache nowadays. Kathleen truly wished her mother would get her eyes checked because Barbara had grown out of the cardigans her granny had knitted for her just last year and desperately needed a new one for this winter. Kathleen had resorted to passing down one of her own but Barbara was nowhere near filling it out in the chest yet so it looked baggy and hand-me-down. Kathleen could go without a cardigan. She had another. She had a warm winter coat to wear to the shops and when she was at home she wore her oldest jumpers. What did it matter if they weren’t new or fancy when they were sure to be covered in squashed vegetables and smeared in Vegemite and snot and vomit?

‘There are five categories here and another for combination recipes. Dried fruits. Bananas. Cheese. Rice. And eggs.’ Violet took her glasses off and, suspended by their fine gold chain, they rested on her bosom. ‘Why don’t we start with eggs?’

Kathleen tried to summon some energy but it was like pulling the stars from the sky. Beyond her reach. Impossible. What little enthusiasm had been blossoming in her had disappeared after the curried spaghetti disaster. She felt as squashed as a bug. But she had to offer something. Violet was waiting for a reply, looking at her daughter with barely contained hope mixed with concern and anxiety. For the first time, Kathleen realised how hard it must be for a mother to see her own daughter struggling. To look at her own child and not know how to help.

Weakly she offered up, ‘I can fry an egg. I can boil an egg. And scramble them.’

‘Oh, come on now, love,’ Violet laughed. ‘Anyone can do that. Let’s put our thinking caps on.’ Violet’s gaze drifted to the far corner of the room as she concentrated.

‘What about hamburgers?’ Violet offered enthusiastically. ‘They’re easy enough. Eggs bind the mince and the chopped onions and the breadcrumbs and the parsley all together. It stops them falling apart when you fry them. Your father won’t have them because he still remembers all those Septics in Melbourne during the war. “Over-sexed, over-paid and over-here.” That’s what people said, especially our troops.’ But I reckon the kids will love them, so hang what your father says.’ Violet winked at her daughter.

‘Hamburgers? But Thursday is usually tuna mornay day. I know the kids won’t mind but Peter will be put out if I serve up something different. He really didn’t like my curried spaghetti last week.

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