Dove Sono Where Has The Love Gone

Copyright Oggbashan October 2020

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

This is inspired by the Countess' Aria Dove Sono from Mozart's Marriage of Figaro.

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I am worried that I have lost my husband's love. I am sitting in a wheelchair in our living room and I can hear him in the kitchen talking to the Au-Pair who is giggling.

Six weeks ago I was pushing my trolley across the supermarket car park when I was hit by a stolen car that was being chased by the police. It didn't have a driver. He had jumped out while it was still moving and attempted, unsuccessfully, to run away from the police. The impact broke both my lower legs. They are now in plaster and will be for another month.

Because I couldn't do things around the house in a wheelchair, my husband Alan found an Au-Pair, Petra, from a local agency. Petra is from Croatia and her English was non-existent. She had studied German at school but not English. Neither we nor Petra had much choice. We only wanted an Au-Pair for a couple of months before I was back on our feet. Petra had never been an Au-Pair before, and had never travelled outside Croatia. She wanted to try it for a short time, unlike other Au-Pairs who wanted a year's contact.

The first week was awkward. Petra had no English. I couldn't speak German. We could communicate by signs and gestures but that was frustrating for both of us. We had to wait for Alan to get back from work before he could use his German to interpret between Petra and me. Of course that meant she understood him far better than she could me.

I was getting worried. Petra is an attractive young lady, almost a clone of what I had been when Alan and I became engaged forty years ago. He was enjoying her company and she was reacting to him. When she arrived she looked miserable and depressed. I couldn't understand why and I couldn't ask her. Eventually Alan was able to tell me about Petra's worries.

Her father had been a prominent political leader when Croatia was part of Tito's Yugoslavia. He disapproved of the westernisation of Croatia, and particularly Petra's attitude and her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, Alexei, is a department manager in a supermarket, and Petra was a senior shop assistant. Petra's father disapproved of supermarkets so he wasn't happy. He was more incensed by their hobby. Alexei was the lead guitarist in a group and Petra was the main singer. They were reasonably popular but they wanted to cover hits written in English. Although Petra could learn the songs by heart, she didn't understand them and thought she might be emphasising the wrong words or misunderstanding the emotion. If she learned English?

So she decided to come to England as an Au-Pair to learn English. Her father was furiously angry and as a compromise she said she would only come for a few months. She was also worried that if she stayed away too long Alexei might find another girlfriend.

Alan collected Petra from Victoria Coach Station on a Friday evening. He was startled that she was crying for almost the whole car journey and was still unhappy when they arrived. For most of Saturday and Sunday I felt like a gooseberry as Alan and Petra talked almost all the time, in German that I couldn't understand. On Sunday, when Alan had begun to understand why Petra was unhappy, she was often being hugged as she cried against his shoulder. I felt left out. Alan was hugging Petra far more than me. Part of the reason was my bruising. The impact with the car had knocked me into the supermarket trolley and I had some spectacular bruising which meant that a hug was painful. I couldn't even share the marital bed with Alan. The plaster on my legs meant that if I moved I would hurt his legs and mine. I was missing Alan and Petra seemed to be getting more love than I was.

Alan kept telling me he loved me. Did I believe him? His actions seemed to show that he loved Petra more.

During the first week Petra tried hard to help me and to pick up some English words but our inability to communicate properly frustrated both of us. She was sad, probably homesick, and missing her boyfriend but she couldn't talk to me about it. Both of us were miserable all day, me because I couldn't do the things I wanted to do, and Petra because she couldn't understand me, nor I her. She brightened up every evening when Alan came home because she could talk to him in German. They were both becoming more fluent as they used their German but that made me feel even more excluded.

On the Wednesday evening of the second week I exploded as Petra was in Alan's arms again.

"Alan! She's got to go, or our marriage is over! She is in your arms far more often than I have been in the last decade. I think you love that young trollop far more than me, and one of us has to go -- either she goes, or I do."

Alan patted Petra on the head and told her to go to the kitchen and make four cups of coffee. I understood enough German to understand that. He came and knelt down by my wheelchair.

"Joyce, please don't be unreasonable. I know you are in pain, so much pain that I can't hug you without making you scream. I love you and have for forty years. I still love you. But Petra is alone in a country she doesn't understand..."

"She understands enough to hug you!! I retorted.

"...but she is lost, homesick and worried, Much of that is because she can't communicate with you, Joyce. She knows you are unhappy and that's adding to her unhappiness too. Her father is being a real pain by email demanding that she return now."

"Perhaps she should before she has wrecked this marriage, Alan,"

"It has only been ten days so far, ten days that are hard for you, and for her. For you -- it is frustration that you can't do what you want to do. For her? It is because she can't understand you enough to know what you want her to do, and more, that she doesn't know what NOT to do."

"Not to do? Leave my fucking husband alone!"

"I'll try to explain to her, Joyce. But it is you that I love, not Petra."

"I don't believe you, Alan. I want to believe, but I can't. That hurts."

I burst into tears. Alan kissed me on the forehead. I really wanted his arms around me, but that would have hurt me too much.

Petra returned with the coffee. Alan asked her to sit down on the settee while he explained, at least I assume that was what he was trying to do, to Petra why I was unhappy. At the end, Petra and I were both crying and Alan was annoyed.

He spent about an hour on line, coming back at one point for his debit card. Why? I didn't know.

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Thursday, during the day, was hard for Petra and for me. I didn't want to talk to her and she was trying to be diplomatic. When Alan came home from work he found both of us in tears.

"That does it!" he said. "I am trying to arrange a solution by late Sunday evening, but please, please, try to be reasonable to each other tomorrow."

He was very fierce with both of us. He told us to try to avoid scratching each other's eyes out tomorrow, to try to communicate as best we could and try to understand why both were unhappy. He told Petra what he had said in English to me, and told me what he had said to Petra in German.

To a certain extent it worked on Friday. Both of us were trying to be polite and sympathetic. When Petra and I became tangled in the kitchen we both started laughing. But Petra was receiving hourly text messages and each one made her cry. After the fifth one I took the phone out of her hand and switched it off, and told her as best I could, to leave it switched off. She was surprised but she responded by kissing me on the forehead.

Both of us moaned at Alan when he came in on Friday evening but he congratulated us on a day's restraint. I told him about Petra's upsetting text messages. He asked her about then but I didn't understand her response except that Alan told her to keep the phone switched off.

On Saturday Alan made a point of explaining to Petra in German what he said to me in English, and to me, in English what he had said to her. Because we both knew what he was saying our mutual tolerance that day was much better, but it was a strain on Alan. Even so, both of us were aware that Petra was even more unhappy than she had been last week. I suspected it had been yesterday's text messages that had worried her. Neither I nor Alan could understand the messages which had been in Serbo-Croat.

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Just before lunch on Sunday, Alan announced that he would be out for about three hours after lunch and that Petra should get the spare bedroom ready for a visitor who would be staying. He wouldn't give us a hint of who the visitor might be. He asked us to be tolerant of each other while he was gone. Just before he left he kissed Petra on the forehead, and then me full on the lips. It was awkward for him to do that because he had to kneel down. But it made me feel that there was perhaps hope that our love might possibly come back.

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Petra and I were sitting in the living room with a cup of tea when Alan returned. Petra glanced out of the window and then screamed. She jumped up with a torrent of words in what I assume was Serbo-Croat. Alexei was getting out of the car, Petra's Alexei.

She met him in the hall. He had to drop his suitcase because Petra was all over him. She dragged him into to the living room, pushed him into an armchair and jumped on him. The poor man didn't have chance to say a word. Petra was kissing him too ferociously.

When Alan came into the room he picked me up out of the wheelchair very carefully and sat down with me on his lap. He and I were kissing nearly as much as Petra and Alexei.

It was at least half an hour before Alan and Alexei could explain why Alexei was here.

Ever since Petra had started work with us, her father had been unhappy. He had been sending text messages to Petra demanding that she return home, and also saying that he would NEVER give consent to a marriage between Petra and Alexei. He had banned Alexei from the house and forbade Petra from any contact with Alexei. He had been claiming that Alexei had found another girlfriend, which Petra knew was untrue because she was in contact with Alexei and mutual friends.

Petra's response, last Wednesday, to her father had been to say that she couldn't leave because Joyce needed her far more than her father.

On Friday her father had responded with a series of text messages threatening to disown Petra as his daughter because she was disobedient.

But neither she or her father knew that on Wednesday evening Alan had contracted Alexei and Petra's mother, He had arranged and paid for Alexei to come to England to be with Petra. More than that, he had asked Alexei to forward a CV in English and had used it to apply, on Alexei's behalf, for a managerial post in a local supermarket. Alexei had an interview on Monday morning but, subject to that interview demonstrating Alexei's command of English, he would start work on the following Monday.

I felt better on Sunday evening. Petra obviously wanted Alexei and rarely gave Alan even a passing glance. I was in Alan's very careful arms as we kissed, taking a cue from how Petra and Alexei were behaving. I suspected that the spare room wouldn't be used tonight but I wasn't worried. Petra and Alexei are both over twenty-one and very much in love with each other.

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On Monday morning I was left alone for about an hour as Petra took Alexei to the supermarket for the interview. She returned when he was in the office. He came back by himself about an hour later. His smile told us what we wanted to know. He had the job. Alan had already agreed with me that Alexei could stay with us, and Petra, while he was working. I didn't mind. Now Alexei was here, Petra left Alan alone, and Alan was trying very hard to show how much he loved me.

On Monday afternoon Alexei and Petra took me for a walk. Alexei could push my wheelchair. Petra was too small and slight to move it except around the house. Alexei insisted that all three of us spoke English. We did except when Alexei had to explain an unfamiliar word in Serbo-Croat.

Petra was happy. Alexei was happy. I was beginning to feel happier now that Petra and I could communicate even if we sometimes needed Alexei's help.

We were sitting outside in the town square drinking coffee. Suddenly Alexei dropped to his knees in front of Petra and proposed to her in English. My heart was in my mouth. Petra understood every word but hadn't appreciated the meaning of Alexei's sentence. She looked puzzled. Alexei repeated himself, slowly and clearly in Serbo-Croat.

Petra squealed loudly and grabbed his head, pulling it against her. She said yes, several times in Serbo-Croat before easing Alexei's head slightly away, looking at his face and saying "yes" very firmly in English.

Alexei produced an engagement ring and fitted it on Petra's finger. Hey hugged each other, and then being careful because of my bruises, they hugged and kissed me.

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But there was a dark cloud on the newly-engaged couple's horizon -- Petra's father. They knew he would react badly to the news of Petra's engagement. But her mother was sympathetic.

I suggested that they should send copies of all Petra's father's texts to her mother to show what the father had been threatening. Alexei downloaded them all into a Word document. I hadn't known that our version of Word would work in Serbo-Croat but apparently it does.

Alexei sent that document as an attachment to Petra's mother and the two of them set another email announcing their engagement. They hoped that Petra's mother would have some influence on her father.

Petra and Alexei, mainly Alexei because his English was better, gave me more information about Petra's father. When Tito ran Yugoslavia, Petra's father had been a prominent communist in the local administration. He had a large government apartment with a staff of servants, an official car with driver and at work had many minions working for him. He had access to a closed store for prominent communists where he could buy luxury goods not available to most people. Now he had a small government pension and no status. He spends most of his time in a local bar with other men who had been important in the old Yugoslavia and were now nobodies. They all moaned about the loss of the 'good old days'.

His father-in-law had been a government haulage contractor moving exports out of Yugoslavia and imports in. After the collapse of Yugoslavia he had bought all the trucks and still had been a haulage contractor but as a businessman, not a state employee.

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That evening Alexei and Petra had an email from Petra's mother congratulating them on their engagement. She sent in email, in basic German, to Alan and I, thanking us for looking after Petra. There was a later email too Petra saying that her mother would confront her father and try to make him be sensible. It might take her some time but otherwise they would lose THEIR daughter...

Petra replied to that saying whatever her father did, she had no intention of losing contact wither mother.

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The following week was bliss compared with the time since Petra had first come. While Alexei was around, Petra was happy, and because his English was very good, she and I could communicate much better. Petra's English comprehension and speaking was improving hourly.

Petra and her mother were exchanging daily emails and Petra was relieved that there had been no contact whatever from her father, although she knew from her mother that he was very annoyed about the engagement.

I was happier because Alan had much more time for me and we were spending much of each evening with me in his arms. We were nearly as demonstrative as Petra and Alexei.

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On the Monday Alexei went off to his new job. Petra was slightly sad that he had gone but she brightened up when I hugged her. Petra and I had become friends now I no longer saw her as a threat to my marriage. My bruises had gone and my legs were improving although I could only stand for short periods on crutches.

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A month later the plaster was taken off my legs. I could walk and stand if not for long. Petra and I could work together instead of me being helpless.

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Two months later I no longer needed Petra's help. She and Alexei were planning their marriage and Petra had finally received grudging congratulations from her father on her engagement.

Alexei explained to Alan and me what had happened. When Yugoslavia collapsed Petra's father had lost his position and status but he had a significant capital amassed over the years. But he had lost his apartment and car. He had had to move in to his wife's house and smallholding, bought by his father-in-law. What Petra's father had never known, and still didn't, was that his father-in-law had been a successful smuggler in Yugoslavia, taking out cheap alcohol and tobacco and bringing in luxury goods or whatever was in short supply under the Communist regime such as consumer durables, jeans and pop music.

Petra's maternal grandfather had been able to buy the fleet of trucks, houses for his daughter and two sons, and as well as apparently being a conventional business man, had still been a smuggler. Now Petra's uncles were still running the haulage business and the smuggling.

Petra's mother had given the father an ultimatum. Either he accepted the engagement of Alexei and Petra, or she would kick him out to find a home for himself. It had taken the mother weeks of nagging to achieve the result. The father had reluctantly agreed to give his daughter away when they married in England.

Petra had applied for and been accepted for a position at the supermarket where Alexei worked, a post substantially the same as she had had in Croatia. While they were still unmarried, they would still live with us. Alan and I had helped the two obtain a newly built small part rent, part buy apartment run by a housing association. They would move in after their honeymoon. Alan and I had been guarantors on the mortgage but Petra's parents had indicated that they would provide a capital sum so that the mortgage would be reduced substantially.

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The wedding was normal. The bride's father gave her away although he didn't look particularly pleased. At the reception we were sitting with one of the bridesmaids and her boyfriend. Both had been working in England for a couple of years so they were able to translate the gist of the speeches in Serbo-Croat. The brides' father's speech was conventional but very short as if it was a duty he didn't want to perform. The jokes in the Best Man's speech, he was the bass guitarist in their Croatian group, didn't really translate.

During the bride's dance with her father he looked much happier. He obviously loved his daughter and it showed.

Later on the Croatian pop group performed with Petra singing some standards in English.

They left for their honeymoon in Croatia.

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Whole they were away; Alan and I with help from some of their fellow workers from the supermarket furnished their new home with second-hand furniture mainly from charity furniture shops. They might want to replace that later, but they had more than most new marrieds.

Petra and Alexei decided that Alan and I were their adopted Uncle and Aunt. I was happy with that status now that Petra was no threat to my marriage. Alan and I had discovered that after forty years together we hadn't been demonstrating how much we loved each other. Alexei and Petra had shown us what it was like to be in love, and now we were following their lead.

I know that Alan loves me, and I love him.