by Jo Edwards
pinged back and caught him on the nose, making it bleed. He had to sing “You’re the One That I Want” with cotton wool plugs up his nostrils.
I was just desperately disappointed that Dad hadn’t made it. Where was he? I’d looked around the audience for him all night but he must have got held up somewhere. I hoped he was ok; what if he’d been in an accident? I’d have loved for him to have seen me perform tonight. Never mind – he could always come to the next showing. Myra was standing just outside sharing a cigarette with Barry and Frankie, laughing loudly between gulps of wine. I hoped she didn’t drink too much more; I was going to have to tell her in a minute. My heart was in my mouth. What would she say? What would she do? At least the cups and plates were made of paper.
I was about to make a move towards Myra when Auntie Trish and Biffa bounded over.
“Wotcha Foggy!” Biffa gave me a dig in the ribs that really hurt. “I loved the bit when your corset fell down! Absolute genius.” She looked down at Granny Pattern. “Alright Mum?”
Granny Pattern turned purple. “Don’t you mum me, you, you, you reprobate! My Arthur would turn in his grave to hear you call me that! Surprised to see you’re still together the pair of you. I give it a week, I said to Elsie next door, before it’s all over. Waste of bleeding money that sham of a ceremony you put us through. May God forgive me for going.” She went to make the sign of the cross, but several sausage rolls flew out of her sleeves. We all ducked. She sniffed. “Far too heavy, that pastry; I don’t suppose my bowels will shift for a fortnight. I’ll have to get the towel-rail reinforced again.” She shuffled off in the direction of the wine boxes.
Auntie Trisha and Biffa exchanged glances. “While we’ve got you on your own, Foggy, there’s something we wanted to tell you.”
“Oh yes?”
“We’ve just been up north on our honeymoon. Wanted to see Biffa’s brother before he’s deported. Anyway, we spent a couple of days in Manchester, and you’ll never guess who we saw.”
I gaped at them. “Not Wayne Rooney?”
“Er, no, Foggy, not Wayne. We bumped into your father.”
“Dad?” I gasped. “You saw Dad?” They both nodded. “That’s amazing!” I cried. “I really hoped he’d be here tonight - when’s he coming?”
“Well, that’s just it, you see Foggy.” Auntie Trisha put her arm round me. “Because his business is going so well, he’s had to go abroad for a bit. You know, he’s got to branch out, internationally speaking.”
I looked from one to the other. “Abroad? But, where?”
“New York,” said Biffa. “He said to tell you he was very sorry that he can’t see you, but he thought you’d understand. It was a very last minute thing.”
Dad had gone to New York! So he wasn’t coming. I couldn’t believe it; I wanted to cry but I couldn’t in front of everyone. I swallowed hard and fought back the tears. “I guess business has to come first.”
“Yes,” said Auntie Trisha, giving me a kiss on my slicked back hair. “Life’s a shitter sometimes. But look; he asked us to give you this.” She produced a tatty envelope from her jacket pocket. It was stuffed full of twenty pound notes. “It’s the £600 you gave him, I mean, invested with him. He said it wasn’t quite the right time as the markets are quite volatile at the moment, so you’re to have it back and you’re not to send him anymore.”
I took the envelope. “But he said he’d double it.” I kept looking down so they wouldn’t see the tears that I couldn’t blink away. “He said he’d bring me a cheque for £1200. I’ve got a loan. And an overdraft.” I knew my voice sounded like a sheep’s.
“Yes, well, I’m sure he thought he could,” explained Biffa. “But it’s the bloody markets, isn’t it? Always up and down.”
I nodded. “Yes, the bloody markets. Of course. Did he say when he wanted me to move to Manchester?” A thought struck me. “He doesn’t want me to go to New York, does he? I haven’t got a passport, but I could get one quite-”
“No, no.” Auntie Trisha was beginning to squash me. “He said you’re to stay here for the foreseeable. Thinks it’s best if you look after your mother; he said she needs you more than he does just at the moment.”
That was so like Dad to put Mum’s needs before his own. What on earth was I going to tell Lucy? She’d found herself a job in Manchester now! She wouldn’t still go, would she? My throat ached from trying not to cry.
Biffa pulled a hanky out of her trouser pocket and passed it to me. I noticed she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. Nor was Auntie Trisha. “Where are your lovely rings?” I asked them, blowing my nose.
They looked at each other. “Oh, well, we decided they weren’t really us,” said Biffa. “Don’t need a flashy bit of gold to demonstrate that you love someone, do you?”
“But you had them engraved and everything!”
“We’ll probably just get a piercing done instead.”
Barry sidled over to us. “Oi Foggy, have you ditched the beast yet? Well, get a bloody move on then; I thought I might have a crack.”
“Change of plan,” I told Barry, miserably.
“Bugger it.” He thought for a moment. “Would you mind if I tried your mum, then?”
Jess and Cathy came over and thumped me on the back. “We’re off now, Foggy!” boomed Cathy. “You were unbelievable – loved the bit where you head butted Danny Zuko! The tosser so had it coming! Got some fantastic footage so we’re gonna upload it all onto Facebook tonight – everyone will be beside themselves! See you at work on Monday!”
Brilliant! My performance would be on Facebook where Lucy would see it; she’d know I was thinking about her when I sang the line, “We go together like ramma lamma lamma ka dinga da dinga dong” and she’d see me dancing shirtless to Greased Lightning. I’d even rubbed a bit of Myra’s lip Vaseline onto my chest to make it glisten; I knew Frankie wished he’d thought of that because he looked as mad as hell. It was a pity my denim dungarees now had several cigarette burn holes in the crotch but I’m sure no one could see that. No; there was just no way Lucy would want to leave Shodsworth now.
I suddenly felt a great surge of joy. I had so much in my life to be grateful for: a caring family, supportive friends, great job, brilliant bank manager, a jet-setting father and a wonderful future on the stage. I must tweet my performance to Katy Perry and suggest the ‘Something Stupid’ duet again - how could she refuse now? Just think; she might even invite me to New York and I could surprise Dad by performing at Carnegie Hall!
I knew at that moment I had to be the most fortunate man in the whole wide world. Life’s just so good to me! I fished a fag butt out of my orange juice and went to help Myra re-capture her breasts.
ALSO BY JO EDWARDS
Foggy will return shortly in A Very Foggy Christmas, but in the meantime you can catch up on all the action at Perypils Insurance in Jo Edward’s bestselling novel, Work Wife Balance and its sequel, Pot-bound.
WORK WIFE BALANCE
Kate King is flailing to keep afloat. As her team bicker, finger-point and cheat their way through rumours of sackings and site closures, her ill-tempered husband is becoming increasingly embittered and secretive.
If things aren’t bad enough, Kate also has to contend with a career-climbing, attractive younger colleague and the sudden appearance of back fat.
Something has to give, but will it be her marriage or her job? And which does she care about more?
“Kate is a wonderful character, believable, likeable and with a nice line in funny put-downs. This is well-written, very funny and I raced through it, occasionally squealing in horror at the antics of Kate’s colleagues. It’s also a joy to read about a strong woman with a big job and fiery opinions, a nice antidote to the sugary sweet sort of chick lit.” Daily Mail
POT-BOUND
“The roots of a pot-bound plant wind themselves round and round the inside of the pot making an impenetrable wall. They are unlikely to spread out into new soil; they can only circle e
ndlessly, travelling to nowhere.”
Will Kate be capable of laying new roots amidst the harshness and turbulence of her life, or will she forever be twisted around into knots?
(As Pot-bound is a sequel, Jo has not given much away about its plot in case you have not read Work Wife Balance!)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jo Edwards lives and works in Hampshire, in the UK. Her debut novel, Work Wife Balance, became an Amazon bestseller and its sequel, Pot-bound, has recently been released. Jo is always delighted to hear from readers – please do visit her at: www.jo-edwards.com
For more information and links:
Other Weasel Green Press paperbacks:
Dulcie Feenan:
Christmas comes to Oddleton
J.A. Clement:
On Dark Shores series
1: The Lady & 2: The Other Nereia
Other Weasel Green Press e-books:
Dulcie Feenan:
Christmas comes to Oddleton
J.A. Clement:
On Dark Shores series
1: The Lady & 2: The Other Nereia
Parallels series:
The Black-Eyed Susan
Flight from Shantar
Song of the Ice Lord
A Sprig of Holly
All available from Amazon.