Jane Forxworthy
Page 7
“Had I known his eyesight was so bad, I’d have given him 10p,” she giggled, “Oh! dear, I wish I hadn’t had that drink”
She returned to a comfy chair in the lounge to study the phone book, wishing that old McPherson wasn’t ex-directory so that she could ring him up and blow a raspberry down the line . “But Miss Foxworthy . . She’d be on the phone, surely . Yes of course she is . . We spoke earlier . . .I wonder . .”
***
A prim, precise voice came through the phone in answer to Evie’s call.
“Glenfarach 492. Miss Jane Foxworthy speakin’ and who may I ask is callin’ me?”
Evie was startled for a moment and held the telephone at arm’s length as she gazed at the mouthpiece, expecting a little creature of some kind to pop out and bow to her.
“Hello, Miss Foxworthy . . er . . Jane, I mean, This is Evie Slade here. How are you?”
“Oh! Hello Evie . . so nice to hear from you. I’m keepin’ fine thank you and how are you, yourself?”
“Oh! I’m keepin’ . . er keeping fine too, Jane.” Evie lied as she could feel a headache coming on. “Jane, my husband has been called away on business and he’ll be away from home for a few days and I wondered if you would care to come to tea with me . or a drink perhaps,” She remembered what Mark McLean had said about Miss Foxworthy being quite a character when she’d had a jar or two . . . but Jane Foxworthy burst the bubble of that assumption.
“Oh! That would be lovely Dear. . How kind of you to ask me, but I don’t drink, you know. Being a Christian lady, I fear the evils of that stuff. Never let it pass my lips, I don’t, but a cup of tea would be most welcome. I work in the shop most days, so would an evenin’ visit be acceptable?”
Evie’s brow furrowed as she thought again about what Mark had said and wondered could he have made a mistake . . Could there be more than one Miss Foxworthy in the village? No . . It just wasn’t possible but she was looking forward to Miss Foxworthy’s visit anyway, whatever the outcome and she would deal with that little matter of the booze in her own inimitable way when it arrived.
“Yes . . Evenings would be fine Jane. Any evening. Would this evening suit you?” she asked, but Jane Foxworthy . . being always pretentious, paused.
“Let me just have a little look at my diary Dear. Hold on.”
She returned within a few minutes after having simply looked at the ceiling of her sweetie shop and sucked her ill-fitting dentures. “Yes, this evenin’ will do nicely, dear. I had arranged to see another friend of mine. A lady from the Guild at the church, you know, but I can put her off to another time.”
“Oh! No Jane. Don’t do that. Any evening will suit me as I said, Wills will be away for a few days and maybe even longer.”
Jane Foxworthy blew out her cheeks in exasperation as she shook her head from side to side.
“Well, thank you dear. You are very kind, but I’m so tied up you know, with so many appointments and people to see, I think I had better make it this evenin’. What time will you expect me?”
“Well, if you insist Jane . .Shall we say 6.3O here at ‘Brigadoon’?
“6.30 at your place will be fine dear, Bye Bye.”
Evie went to say goodbye to her friend, but the line went dead before she had a chance to say another word and back at her sweetie shop, Jane Foxworthy searched through her Dorothy bag for her diary to insert her invitation to ‘Brigadoon’ ignoring the other dates that were blank.
“Well . . Who is to know when I may be called upon again,” she said aloud with an air of philosophical importance and replaced the diary carefully back into her bag before she touched her ears with just a hint of lavender water and threw another hint over her shoulder.
Chapter Nine
“I HOPE I’M NOT TOO EARLY DEAR . . You did say 6.o’clock didn’t you?”
Evie smiled but did not contradict Miss Foxworthy as she had everything prepared for the visit anyway and it doesn’t take very long to make a pot of tea and prepare a few sandwiches and far less to open a bottle of whisky.
“Do come in Jane. It is so nice to see you again. I just felt, a little show of appreciation was due, after all you did for Wills and me when we arrived here. I don’t really know what we would have done without your help.”
Jane Foxworthy beamed with delight and her already large mouth seemed to stretch from ear to ear.
“Och! There was no need for that dear, but I do appreciate your kind thoughts,” she said as she unwrapped her head from a violet chiffon scarf that held her large brimmed black and white hat close to her head. She then proceeded to unroll herself from a tartan shawl that covered her pink, floral dress which clung shamelessly to her more than ample bosom and formed folds and wrinkles around her shoulders and back. She wore purple fish net stockings that came out of her orange boots and hugged her plump legs with a painful appearance and of course, she always wore gloves, whatever the occasion and this particular visit to tea deserved her best scarlet and gray leather, delicately put together in patch-work fashion. Evie stared for a second before looking away, hoping that she hadn’t appeared to be impolite, but Miss Foxworthy took not the slightest bit of notice as she sat down heavily on the settee and grunted with complacent satisfaction. The evening had just begun and Evie had so much she wanted to know about Glenfarach and it’s inhabitants and she intended to ply her guest with questions, without interference from her dear husband . . Bless him!
“Do make yourself at home, Jane. You know better than I do where everything is and I’ll just pop into the kitchen and make the tea. Oh! whatever have you got there with you dear?”
Jane Foxworthy plonked a white cake box on the table
“Some of my peanut butters dear. I know you like them and I must give you the recipe before I go home, so please remind me and don’t let me forget again.”
Tea was served and peanut butter crumbs where showered in total abandon all over the table and around the floor across Evie’s off-white wall to wall Wilton carpet in the lounge. Evie was amazed at how Jane Foxworthy consumed her food. She drank the tea between mouthfuls of peanut butter biscuits and every biscuit had the end nipped off like as if it was a cigar and the biscuit butt was thrown to the floor. All this time Jane would talk or sit quietly, but she never once looked at the floor nor did she ever think to clear up the biscuit pieces or the crumbs.
“Would you care for a small sherry, Jane? . . or a whisky perhaps?
Evie’s ply was about to commence as she made her way over to the drinks trolley ignoring the fact that Jane Foxworthy never let the stuff pass her lips as she was a Christian Lady and was absolutely tee-total but Jane waved her hand in the air and repeated almost word for word what Evie had expected she would say.
“Never touch the stuff, Dear. I’ve known it to be the ruin of many a young girl, you know,” she said and Evie looked at the whisky decanter feeling a little guilty, before she raised her eyes to the ceiling. She couldn’t understand the relevance as she replaced the stopper on the crystal decanter and Miss Foxworthy’s eyes followed the crystalline sparkle as the fire glow played on the glass and she leaned forward towards her host. She muttered something inaudibly as if she had a secret that she could safely share with her companion of the moment.
“Mind you . .I sometimes have been known . .” she whispered and her eyes went wide, “to have a small whisky . . purely for medicinal purposes, you know Dear.”
Evie nodded with affected respect and pulled the stopper from the decanter, accepting the confidence that was entrusted to her regarding her companions medical problem . . on occasions.
“And how is your health this evening Jane?” she asked with concern, “Are you feeling quite well?”
Miss Foxworthy pursed her lips and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, after she had tucked her scarlet and gray leather gloves . . the ones with the patchwo
rk design, into her bag. She then proceeded to run her fingers over her fish net stockings and her face creased.
“Well, apart from my varicose veins, which don’t show incidentally, I’m not too bad Dear . . that is apart from the constant ache I get in my back and round my chest . . round about the heart region, you understand?”
She glared at her host to ensure that she did understand before she took Evie’s hand and placed it under her bosom.
“Oh! dear . . That must be very worrying for you Jane,” she said and Miss Foxworthy moved in her armchair, compelling it to fart under the strain and showed great disdain in her face by her action as she stared at the whisky, which shimmered tantalisingly with its amber hue, against the light of the warm fire.
“Well . . Go on then, You’ve persuaded me . . But just a little you understand, because I really don’t feel that well this evenin’ and as you know I am a Christian lady and I like to be in control of my senses.” She reached out and ignored the sherry as she tugged at the White Horse decanter . . . and Evie bent down to pick up some crumbs.
“But of course Jane dear, “ Evie said sympathetically, trying to keep her face straight, “Say when? . . Just for that pain around the heart, eh?”
“Thank you dear, just pour . . for the varicose veins, we’ll think of the heart later.”
As Evie poured the medicine , Jane spotted a photograph of Wills on the sideboard and it distracted her, very conveniently for the moment from saying ‘when’ “Oooh! Isn’t he the sporty one . . Your husband dear,” she snorted.
“Yes, he loves football and he runs a lot . . well he did when we were in London.”
“Oh! My dear . . You have given me such a lot in this glass, haven’t you? I don’t know how I shall be able to drink all this, for I’m a Christian woman you know and . .”
Evie smiled as she interrupted kindly.
“Of course you will Jane and besides, one can always pour what one doesn’t drink back into the bottle, can’t one.”
Miss Foxworthy somehow didn’t quite hear that last remark as she continued to sing the praises of Evie’s husband and downed half a glass of neat whisky.
“Yes indeed . . a very sporty type, I would say. Hasn’t he got a nice smile . . .”
“I’ll show you his album if you like Jane . . Would you like that?”
“Show me his WHAT, Dear?” Evie reached into the drawer before Jane Foxworthy could say yea or nay, but by the look in her eye, as she gazed at the blue leather covered photograph album, it was bound to be the former and the album was duly spread across the knees of the hefty spinster. Miss Foxworthy kept her eye on the photograph on the sideboard and Wills smiled back at her, obligingly from his silver ornate frame.
“Look at this one Jane . . This was taken when he won the medal for the long jump.”
“Long what . . dear? Oh! I do like that one taken in his swimmin’ shorts.”
“Yes Jane, that’s one of my favourites.”
“I’m not surprised, Evie dear,” Jane Foxworthy hiccuped and her right eyelid closed for a second, as if she was about to wink.
“What was that you said Jane?”
“Oh! Nothin’ dear . . nothin’ at all.”
Evie could see that her guest had an empty glass by the way she kept waving it about at random in the air. She topped it up for her without bothering to ask for a ‘when’ and Jane Foxworthy
readily hiccuped her acceptance.
“For the varicose veins, eh, Evie . . This one?”
“Yes dear . . for the varicose veins,” said Evie, wondering what the first glass was for and hoping it wasn’t for the heart trouble.
Miss Foxworthy’s eyes were beginning to droop as she continued to chatter with the first thing that came into her head, but Evie was patient.
“My Cyn went out with a footballer once, for a little while, but just like all her other boyfriends, he didn’t last long. . Well, I think they’re too young to be goin’ out together at that age . . don’t you, Evie? Hasn’t he got a lovely bum?”
Evie was non-committal in her answer.
“Oh! I’m sorry about that Jane . . . I mean about young Cynthia and her boyfriends,” she said . . . and waited for a few minutes before she put her main question to her guest. “That Mr. McPherson is rather a solitary figure, don’t you think Jane?”
“She’ll never keep a man as long as she continues to gorge my sweeties like she does. She’ll come out in spots, she will . . Breasts like a matron, she has . .”
“Mr. McPherson, Jane?” Evie tried again with renewed fervour.
“Makes her sin potty . .skin spotty,” she empahsized and laughed as she threw back her head, “ Yes it does that and she’ll lose her useful f.f.f figure too . . I keep tellin’ her. Youfull figurr, YOUTHFUL BLOODY FIGURE” she shouted and slapped her knee with the palm of her hand. “Know what I mean, Edie?” she giggled.
“Does he live alone Jane? That Mr. McPherson, I mean?”
“I’ve told her time and time again to take a bloody good laxative. She should keep her bowels open, should that one, but she wol’t listen.” Jane Foxworthy whispered and held her forefinger to her lips as her eyes began to droop again.
Evie sighed in despair as Jane held out her glass.
“I’ve a feelin’ my heart’s playin’ me up again Emmie,” she said as she belched aloud and shouted “Manners” at the top of her voice.
“It’s Evie, darling . . not Emmie. Short for Evelyn, you know,” Evie said and clanked the decanter against Jane’s glass until it was nearly full.
“When . . . When . . . When . . . Emylin please,” Miss Foxworthy pleaded with a painful look in her left eye as the right one remained closed, in the hope that Evie would not stop pouring, but protesting as any decent Christian lady would and holding her glass as steady as she could. “Remem . . remember I’m a Chris . . a Christie . . . Do you mind if I take my stockins off Dear? It’s bloody hot in here.”
Miss Foxworthy hiccuped again as she unrolled her fish nets with great care and fell onto the off-white wall to wall Wilton carpet, but Evie helped her back again to her armchair which wobbled and creaked as she sat down.
“I think her mother was the stupid one. That’s what I think.” Miss Foxworthy belched again even louder this time and from the very pit of her stomach as she shouted “Manners . . Bloody manners,” into the air, but Evie ignored the language.
“Whose mother, Jane,” she asked with avid curiosity and sipped her tea.
“Never ever thought she would get herself pregnin . . silly little bitch . . Well you wouldn’t, would you dear? . . .although I should have guessed, shoudled I?
Evie glanced to the ceiling once more for understanding but there was none forthcoming as Miss Foxworthy continued in her ramblings, assured that she was being completely understood as she puckered her thick lips together, before sticking her pink tongue out to the point of approximately three quarters of an inch . . . and wiggling it furiously.
“She never knew anyone as far as I was aware . . Well that’s what she said, but then, you never know with a dark horse, do you? They’re the worst kind Evangelist Dear. Mind you there were several men who used to talk about her and how she was so shy and reserved like,”
Jane tapped the corner of her nostril with her forefinger at this point of the conversation, “But I didn’t know if she met any of them. Never went out much . . Mustav done, I spose . . I mean, you don’t get pregalent by just lookin’ shy and reserved, do you now?” She cackled rudely and slapped her thigh again. “God help me, that hurt,” she protested and pouted her lips.
“Would you like a nice cup of tea, Jane . . Or perhaps some coffee . . Some black coffee, eh?”
Jane looked at Evie with half closed eyes and her voice became slurred as she ignored the invitation to tea. . .
Evie wondered what else she could do as it appeared that her guest was in no position to drive home that evening and her heliotrope beetle car was waiting for her at the back of the house.
“But we can’t be sure he was the father, Can we Dear?” Miss Foxworthy went on, “My hunch is it was that young bucko with the . . . . . Hasn’t he got gorgeous hands, Emily?” she digressed as she stared at the photograph of Wills in the album.
Evie looked at the photograph and thought it best to change the subject as Miss Foxworthy trailed her index finger slowly across the shiny photograph of her handsome husband and her mouth opened slightly where her tongue moved seductively across her lower lip.
“The peanut butter biscuits, Jane. You haven’t given me the recipe yet. Perhaps we could do that now?” She had abandoned all hope of getting any information about Mr. McPherson by this time as Jane Foxworthy sighed aloud and her nostrils quivered, making a snorting sound around the room.
“But he buggered off somewhere mysteriously . . an’ we never talk ‘bout him, do we now? Into the clouds he bloody went.”
“No Jane . . I don’t think we do,” Evie sympathised with boring acceptance of the situation in which she now found herself. “The man in the cavalry?” she enquired and Miss Foxworthy puckered her lips and her nose twitched.
“Ponced off just after she dropped her bundle . . he did. Joined that Carmen suture lot . . or was it the Hari christena . . I never could tell the diff’rence. Wore an orange dress an’ shaved ‘is bloody ‘ead. Silly bugger was a red-head anyway. Could have kept it on, couldn’t he? . . . . Hasn’t he got lovely eyes, Miriam . . that bloke there in the photograph?”