Jane Forxworthy

by Paul Kelly

  “Silly little bugger. Didn’t see where he came from Evie. Did you?”

  Evie strained to look where the boy had gone, but he had disappeared completely around the side of a hedge.

  “Seemed as if he just came from nowhere. He had a peculiar look on his little face, Wills. A frightening sort of look.”

  “Frightened, you mean . . Don’t you?”

  Evie turned back towards the car.

  “No . . Frightening . . He frightened me for a moment when I looked at his eyes.”

  Wills examined the car to ensure that there was no harm done.

  “Should have given him a thick ear . . That’s what I should have done, Evie. Now let’s get on our way. Do you want to drive, or shall I, Love?” he asked, but Evie waved her hand in the air.

  “I’m O.K. Wills . . but that little boy’s face worries me. Reminds me of my brother Jeremy.

  ***

  “It must be near here somewhere. That sign we passed said Glenfarach - 5 miles, didn’t it,” he asked, but Evie did not answer. “I’m sure we’ve done five miles already, don’t you think Evie?”

  She paused before she spoke.

  “That was as the crow flies, Darling. I think it may be a little bit farther yet.”

  They drove on for what seemed to be another five miles before they saw the sign that pleased them.

  DRIVE CAREFULLY THROUGH OUR VILLAGE OF GLENFARACH, PLEASE.

  it read and Evie smiled with a smug satisfaction.

  “There you are, I told you it was only about five miles along the road,”

  “As the crow flies, you said . . That means, twenty-five miles, in Scotland as all the crows are weaned on the hard stuff, and take their time. . .”

  Evie laughed but quickly ignored his pun as she pulled the instruction leaflet from the glove compartment.

  “Now to find out where this house is . . Ah! Down here to the right, I would say . . then first left until you come to the ‘Eagle’s Nest’ . . That’s a pub, I should imagine, then left again up the hill. The name of the house is ‘Brigadoon’ “

  ‘Brigadoon?’ . . Wills repeated after her . .’Brigadoon’ . . why that’s the mystical story where everybody lives for one day only and then they disappear for a hundred years . . isn’t it?”

  Evie was studying the directions and did not hear what he had said. “Oh! God, I hope it won’t disappear for the next hundred years, after we get there. Do you remember that film with Gene Kelly and that beautiful actress with the long legs. What was her name? She was married to that other famous star. You know who I mean.”

  “Oh! That one,” Evie sighed with annoyance. “Look Darling! There . . Over there . .” she shouted as she turned on the car lights to get a better view. “That house in front of us . .It’s Brigadoon, see!? Cor, it’s beautiful Wills.” Evie pulled up and stared at the building before her and the scene took her breath away. Everything looked so new and clean. The windows sparkled in the fading sunlight and the paintwork gleamed its welcome to them. The front garden was one large array of multicoloured flowers, but she could smell the roses above all the rest. “Look! There’s smoke coming from the chimney. There must be someone in there.”

  Before they could get out of the car to investigate, the front door of the house opened and a bright square of light flashed across the garden as a large, white-haired lady filled the doorway with her ample frame.

  “Hello there,” she called out, “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Slade. . Am I right, or am I right?” she called out and Wills waved to her. He had found a Scottish lady who didn’t say, ‘Richt’ and he was to discover later that Miss Jane Foxworthy was a retired speech therapist from Perth, who was terribly precise in her English rendition and never said, Chicken, but Chicking . . . consequently, she had chickings in her garding . .and nobody ever contradicted her. She kept the Sweetie Shop in the village and was respected by all her neighbours . . not because they truly owed her that honour, but because she was known to cry and hide herself away for days, if anyone treated her other than the lady she believed she was. In a word, Miss Foxworthy was harmless, if grossly eccentric.

  “Yes, that’s us . . We didn’t expect to find anyone here, though,” Evie stammered as she looked at Wills to see what reaction he had of the broad-smiling lady in their house, who wavered from side to side as she rubbed her hands together.

  “Oh!,” she said in a high pitched voice, “I’m Miss Foxworthy,” and then lowered her voice as she explained that she lived in the village and that Mr. Macfadyan had asked her to get the house ready for them and to light the fire, so that they would feel more welcome. Her voice fluctuated in tone and her eyebrows moved as she talked. “I do hope you will find everythin’ to your likin’ . . “ she said and smiled again.

  “That’s very kind of you, Miss . . Miss?”

  “Foxworthy, Dear . . Spinster of this Parish, some would say,” She laughed and closed her eyes, “I have the sweetie shop, in the High Street, you know,” she added with pride and puffed out her chest, as Wills made his own enquiry, as he stood in the evening twilight outside and before Evie could correct him for not minding his own business.

  “And Mr. Macfadyan . . Is he . . .? ?”

  “Ah, Mr. Macfadyan,” she chortled, “He’s the Manager of the Buildin’ Works . . The Construction people, you know. We’ve been expectin’ you today, you see.”

  Miss Foxworthy waved her hands in the air as she stepped aside to allow Evie and Wills to enter the house.

  “Now come along with me, my Dears and have a nice cup of tea. I’ve just made a pot not more than half an hour ago and I can always top it up, you see,” she giggled nervously and tiptoed into the house. Evie followed her but Wills went back to the car to bring in the suitcases. “I do so hope you will find it comfortable here . . Oh! I’m sorry, I did not catch the name?” Jane Foxworthy looked intently into Evie’s eyes.

  “I’m Evelyn . well everyone calls me Evie and this is my husband, Wills.”

  Miss Foxworthy smiled at Evie, but glowered at Wills as he came in through the door with two suitcases in each hand and another smaller one under his arm.

  “Oh! I didn’t think he would be . .” she stopped abruptly and put her hand to her mouth, but Evie finished her sentence for her.

  “Black, Miss Foxworthy?” she asked and her eyes widened.

  Jane Foxworthy stared at Wills.

  “Och! No, No, “ she said “There are a lot of er . . er . . coloured gentlemen in Inverness, you know.”

  “But not in Glenfarach?” Evie asked conclusively.

  “Well, No. . Not exactly black, if you know what I mean, but then your husband isn’t really black, is he? He’s . . well, I would say he was a nice mid-brown . .” She smiled in self approval as she said that. “We have Italians here. They run the fish and chip shop and I think the shoemaker is German.”

  Wills gave Evie a knowing look as he dumped the suitcases on the floor in the hall and Miss Foxworthy’s shoulders raised about six inches as she drew in her breath.

  “Now then. . Let’s have a nice cup of tea. eh? Oh! Does your husband drink tea, Evie?”

  “Pig’s blood in preference,” Wills muttered under his breath and Evie kicked him sharply on the ankle.

  “Of course he does. Everyone loves a nice cup of tea . . don’t they Darling,”

  Wills nodded to Evie from where he stood in the hall, showing his teeth in an exaggerated grin and performing some rather good gorilla movements with his large hands tucked under his armpits, but Evie ignored him and smiled at Jane Foxworthy.

  “I’ll show you both round the house when we’ve had our little refreshment . . oh! and the garding of course, and then I’ll get back to my wee sweetie shop. My niece is looking after it for me, but she’s very young and . . well, her arithmetic is not what it might be,
you know.”

  Evie smiled again and raised her eyes to the ceiling, before Miss Foxworthy spied her.

  “Somethin’ wrong, Dear?” she asked,

  “Oh! No . . No, not at all. Quite to the contrary. The place looks so bright and clean. You must have worked very hard and we do appreciate all your efforts. We really do. Don’t we Wills? . . . Wills? . . . WILLS?” Evie called out but her husband had returned to the car to get the rest of the luggage. Evie knew when a compliment was expected and Miss Foxworthy was never without that expectancy when it came to doing anything for others. She didn’t want any pecuniary considerations, you understand, but a compliment to her zeal and efficiency would more than compensate.

  “Och! It’s my pleasure, Dear. I do assure you and please call me Jane.”

  They sat down to tea, with homemade biscuits made from peanut butter and Evie squirmed with delight as the biscuit melted in her mouth.

  “Did you make these yourself, Miss . . er Jane?”

  Miss Foxworthy preened. She was already beginning to like Evie and she was glad she had noticed her culinary expertise. Nobody made peanut butter biscuits quite like Miss Jane Foxworthy and even the ladies in the Christian Movement at St. Luke’s had told her that many a time and they were professionals in the kitchen, as they had told her also, many a time. .

  “Well, Yes, I did actually,” she replied with as much modesty as she could muster.

  “They are just delicious,” Evie went on, “You really must give me the recipe, Jane.”

  “Och! Well . . If you insist,” Jane Foxworthy replied and began to hoist her dress around her waist, as if her knickers were falling down. “I’ll write it down for you and you can collect it when you come into the village. You’ll know my shop. It has my name across the top in large blue letters. Always liked blue, you see.”

  She rose to leave and then remembered that she hadn’t shown them round the house, but Evie insisted that they could find everything by themselves and that Jane should get back to her shop as soon as she could, in the event that trade was being lost in the failing arithmetic of her niece.

  Well, she didn’t exactly use those words, but Wills knew what she meant when she smiled at Miss Foxworthy and showed her to the door.

  “Oh! Jane. . . There is just one more small thing.” Evie called after her as she was walking away from the house.

  “Yes Dear, what is it?”

  Evie played with her toe on the doormat.

  “When we were coming up the lane to the house, we noticed a young boy . . about twelve or so, I would think he must have been. He had overalls on and was carrying some wood on his head. I think we might have frightened him. Do you know his name?”

  Jane Foxworthy blinked and shook her head slowly.

  “Young boy . . in the lane . . carryin’ wood on his head . .Oh! dear me. . dear, dear me. Can’t think who that might be . . Oh! Wait a minute. You must mean Danny.”

  “Does he live around here?” Evie asked, but Miss Foxworthy replied with a knowing smile.

  “Not a ‘he’ Dear . . It’s a ‘she’ . .Danny is old Angus McPherson’s granddaughter.”

  Evie looked at Wills in confusion.

  “Well . . I would have sworn that was a little boy we saw in the lane. He had short hair.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Danny has short hair, cropped like a boy and she does wear some weird old clothes. Dungarees mostly. Poor wee thing.”

  “Where do the McPhersons live Jane? Are they near here?”

  Wills coughed to let Evie know that he thought she was being too nosy, but she continued and ignored his subtle reprehension and Jane Foxworthy was always delighted to give any information on any subject, if she could . . and she nearly always could.

  “Near here? she repeated, “I should think so Dear. They’re your neighbours. You see that smoke risin’ over the hill there? Well, that’s his place. He’s a widower now . . and mind you, it’s not much of a place since Bella died.”

  “Bella? . . Was that Mrs. McPherson?” Evie asked and Wills cringed as he closed his eyes and Miss Foxworthy closed hers complacently as she folded her arms across her ample bosom.

  “No Dear . .Bella was his daughter, but he lives on his own now with Daniella . . well, I ask you, what a name to give a wee girl. You see, Bella was Angus’s only daughter and she ran away from home when she found she was . . you know . .” Miss Foxworthy wrinkled her nose and threw her hands in the air at her last inference . . the one she did not like to talk about. “The old stoat is supposed to be a devout Christian too . . well, I ask you. He drove Bella out of the house when he found out that she was . . you know. He didn’t want to take Danny, but he had to when Bella died . . just about three years ago now. She died of . .the big C, . .(Jane Foxworthy whispered her last conclusion. . .) and the package arrived at his door unannounced, although the authorities had told him that he would have to take that wee girl and he wouldn’t have it, at first. You see he didn’t want anythin’ to do with that . . .” Miss Foxworthy leaned forward to spell the word she wanted to use in Evie’s ear as she tightened her lips and nodded her head. She had never used that word in her life and she certainly wasn’t going to use it now, but somehow, for all her expertise in speech therapy, she had spelt it B.A.S.T.A.R.T . . .

  Evie looked sad as she listened to the story of the girl she thought to be a boy and by this time, even Wills was looking very vacant as he stood in the corner, with his mouth open.

  “Did Daniella . . Danny, have a father?” she asked timidly and Wills drew his lips back over his teeth as Jane Foxworthy straightened herself up to her full height of five foot six inches and closed her eyes again. A practice she used regularly when she had information that might interest her listener.

  “Not as far as anyone knows,” she replied, “Apparently Bella ran off to Edinburgh and had the baby there, but I’ve never heard that she got married. No, I’ve never heard that.”

  “How old was Bella when she had her baby, Jane?”

  Jane Foxworthy knew only too well and she was delighted to add some spice to her story and she looked around as though someone might be listening in the lane, as she whispered.

  “How old?” asked Evie, whose curiosity was really alerted by this time and she hadn’t heard what Jane had whispered to her, while Wills was beginning to feel like an intruder into the private lives of old McPherson and his illegitimate granddaughter.

  “Leave it Evie,” he whispered from behind the door and where Jane Foxworthy could not see him, but Evie flapped her hand at him, where it could not be seen either.`

  “How old did you say, Jane?” she asked again, knowing that Jane Foxworthy had never told her the age of the pregnant girl, but the obliging Miss Foxworthy mouthed the words with drama written across her forehead.

  “Fifteen,” she said, “Now I must be off, Evie. It’s been nice seein’ you and I hope you soon settle into your new home. Goodnight for now, then . . Goodnight . . er . .Mr. Slade.” she said and peeped through the open crack of the door.

  “Goodnight Jane,” they answered in chorus and closed the door.

  Jane Foxworthy walked to the back of the house where she had parked her little Volkswagen Beetle car.

  “Such a nice girl is that Evie,” she muttered softly to herself, “And with such nice manners too. Pity he’s black though . .Great meat eaters, they say they are and I’ve only left them some cod in the fridge for their supper. “Och! I wish Mr. McFadyan had warned me. She’s got lovely eyes too. No children, I don’t suppose.”

  She revved up her old beetle and chugged her way down the hill to the village of Glenfarach and to her sweetie shop. .

  ***

  Evie stood with her back against the closed door and sighed.

  “Isn’t that a tragedy, Wills. When you think of that . . we don’t have ma
ny troubles, really . . do we?”

  “Well, we now have Miss Jane Foxworthy, spinster of this parish as our neighbour and I would call that trouble . . wouldn’t you?” he said, “Although I would imagine she would be able to supply you with all the gossip you’ll need for the period of time we’ll be spending here.”

  “Oh! Don’t be so touchy Wills. She’s a nice old Dear and I like her.”

  “Well . . She doesn’t appeal to me, not one little bit . . so there.”

  “That’s because she didn’t succumb to your manly charms.”

  “What? Why the way she dodged about when she saw me, anyone would think I was about to rape her.”

  “Don’t dramatise, Sweetheart. She probably has never met a black man before.”

  Wills laughed and rolled his eyes.

  “Me Tarzan . . She bloody Jane,” he retorted and beat his breast with his fists, but Evie only yawned as she stretched her arms above her head.

  “Well, I don’t know ‘bout you, Sweetie Pie, but I’m tired after that long journey and I’m ready for bed,” she said.

  “Me too Honey, but I hope you’re not too tired.”

  Evie grinned.

  “And what exactly do you mean by that?” she asked mischievously and Wills pursed his lips and blew her a kiss.

  “Well now . . You know what they say . . A new house . a new baby . .”

  Evie closed her eyes and sighed.

  “Come on then, Lover Boy. Let’s get up them stairs, double quick.

  Chapter Four

  “Oh! You do look nice Darling,” she said, “Very much the executive type with your smart pin-striped suit and navy blue tie. Very smart indeed, Mr. Slade, Sir and I wish you every success on your fist day at the Office.