Jane Forxworthy

by Paul Kelly

  Jane hiccuped and pretended not to hear, but her heart was saddened at the disappointing show of her tarty niece,

  “As long as you live under my roof, you’ll do as you’re told, girl . . Do you hear that?”

  she screeched and Cynthia stamped her foot in rage as she screwed up her face.

  “I’ll do as my likes,” she screamed hysterically and her hair bounced around her face, but Miss Foxworthy smiled sardonically.

  “Why don’t you go to evenin’ classes Dear and learn to speak properly . . if you consider yourself to be growd up . . . ?”

  “I don’t need no fuckin’ English classes,” Cynthia barked back and Miss Foxworthy put her glass down slowly on the table and with slow deliberation, rose to her feet.

  “And I won’t have that language in this house either, Madam,” she screamed and raised her hand sharply to strike the girl across the face, but Cynthia fell across the settee crying.

  “You’ve never treated me like a human bein’ . . never. .I’m only useful fur lookin’ after that bloody sweetie shop when you’re oot gallivantin’, or gettin’ pissed an’ that’s often enough. I’m no stayin’ here any longer. I want tae get married.”

  Jane slumped back into her chair.

  “Married,” she screamed, Married? . . . You get married? My God, what a joke. Who the hell would have you? That ginger boy with the spotty face and the kilt? Is that who it is? Has he been puttin’ stupid ideas into to your silly little head?”

  Cynthia shuddered and her breath came in short spasms as she spoke.

  “Naw . . it’s no’ him . . He’s . . He’s only a wee boy. I’ve got a man . . a real man who’ll marry me. He told me he will. He loves me. He told me that too, so there then. .”

  Jane Foxworthy gasped. She could not afford to take this information as a joke, even if sounded like that and her eyes showed fear.

  “What man Cynthia? Tell me, what man?” she asked quietly making every effort to appear understanding and friendly, but Cynthia was riled and she would have none of it.

  “Never you mind . . That’s my business. I’m no’ tellin’ you any more an’ I’m no’ comin’ back tae the shop. You can get that Mrs. Slade cow tae help ye for all I care . . or the bloody dummy for that matter. .”

  Jane’s voice softened. She was afraid as she spoke.

  “There, there now Cynthia. Don’t be so hasty. Maybe we’ve both said things we didn’t mean. Come now. I’ll make some tea and we’ll talk this through sensibly, eh?”

  She put out her hand towards her niece, but Cynthia withdrew sharply.

  “Don’t gie me awe that crap. I know all aboot you and your affairs . . I know aboot your sister . . aboot the night she died an’ left her wee bairn oot in the cold. . I know awe aboot that.”

  Jane Foxworthy paled and her throat became dry. She coughed lightly.

  “Come and sit down Cynthia . . You’re gettin’ over excited, Dear.”

  “You’d get over excited if I told people what I know, wouldn’t ye?”

  Jane poured herself another whisky. The days for covering up the family skeletons had apparently gone and the liquid splashed over the side of the glass as her hand shook.

  “Cynthia . . I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about and neither do you. My sister died nearly thirty years ago . . long before you were born.”

  “Well I do know, so there, “ shouted Cynthia and she was about to stamp out of the room when Miss Foxworthy called her back. There was fear and anxiety in the older woman’s face.

  “Cynthia . . Are you still a virgin, may I ask?” she said and raised her glass to her lips,

  but Cynthia ignored her question and ran upstairs laughing hysterically.

  “That’s for me tae know and for you tae find oot,” she called out as she slammed her bedroom door, locking it behind her.

  Her words rang with terror in Miss Foxworthy’s ears and Cynthia threw herself across her bed, but Miss Foxworthy was resolved to settle this matter and started to climb the stairs. She reached the landing, with some effort, groaning with the pain of her varicose veins as she went, but before she could touch the handle of the door, Cynthia called out to her.

  “I don’t want tae see ye any more . . Go away.”

  Jane knocked quietly on the door.

  “Please let me in Cynthia. We have to talk. This is very serious, you know.”

  There was no response, but Jane Foxworthy could hear her niece sobbing. “Cynthia . . Cyn. Dear. Let me in. Speak to me, please?” As there was still no answer, Jane banged harder on the door. “I only want to help you. You must be very, very careful,” she called out.

  The bedroom door opened slowly and Cynthia stood in the doorway with her housecoat draped loosely around her . . the straps of her bra exposed and digging into her shoulders . .

  “He told me not to let anyone see this, but I don’t care. I want you to see it . . I want the whole fuckin’ world to see it . . so there . .”

  Cynthia stretched her fingers wide, showing an enormous gold, engagement ring. It was an unusual shape, neither oval nor round, but rather pear shaped and the centre stone was one large solitary sapphire, encircled with tiny seed pearls and finished with one little seed pearl in the centre of the sapphire. Jane looked at it and clasped her hand to her heart. She felt faint, but she struggled to control herself until she could get back to the lounge and to the medicine bottle.

  “Nice . . Innit?” Cynthia sneered as she leant across the balustrade “Must have cost a bomb, I would think . . but then he loves me. He says he does . . an’ I love him, so I’m worth it . . don’t you think?” Jane Foxworthy did not answer, instead she turned quietly in the stairway and returned, tottering slightly to the lounge and to her medicine, but her mind was far from restful. She switched off the light to the gentle shadows of the fireglow once more. The secrets of her life were her own and she wanted them kept that way. However the picture that was forming in her mind was far from pleasing to her and made her angry, as fear gripped her heart. She remembered . . . as she sipped her drink in the dark silence of her room and closed her eyes in pain.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  EVIE READILY AGREED to help Jane Foxworthy in her sweetie shop, part time in the afternoons, until the latter was sure that Cynthia would come to her senses and return to work. She had estimated about a fortnight at most, for the transformation, nonetheless, she was evidently worried.

  “Do you really think she has someone Jane, or is this just a teenage crush of some kind that will fade with time, as they usually do. I think we all went through this stage at one time or another, didn’t we?” Evie asked with concern, but Miss Foxworthy’s mind was obviously very much engaged elsewhere. She stared into space and did not answer. It was the shop bell that brought her back to reality and that, only for a short time.

  “Sorry Evie. I wasn’t listening to what you said. Could you attend to this customer please?”

  Jane went into the back shop and Evie served the plump, little bald headed gentleman who had come in to buy some chocolates for his mother. They had to be all dark chocolates . . none of that milk trash and certainly none of those white things, that didn’t look like chocolates at all.

  “I think your mother will appreciate these, Sir . . They are a variety, but all in dark chocolate, I do assure you.”

  The gentleman smiled and asked them to be wrapped, if possible in red paper. Evie obliged, after she had scurried around looking for red wrapping paper, which she found under the till on a shelf, near a magazine with chewing gum stuck to the cover. . .

  When the man had left and the bell had duly ‘pinged’ his exit, Evie went into the rear of the shop to see if Miss Foxworthy was alright.

  “I see you served Mr. Gilmore-Platt, Evie. Nice gentleman. Comes in every month to buy chocolates for his mothe
r.”

  Evie grinned when she related the tale of the red wrapping paper, but Jane Foxworthy accepted that eccentricity in her stride.

  “Oh! I should have told you about that Dear . .” she said, “and I hope you won’t need to do it for him again. He only comes in once a month, round about this time too, and I expect Cyn. will be back shortly . . well, I hope so . . Oh! I do so hope she changes her mind.”

  “I’m sure she will Jane. Don’t worry, but why does Mr. whatsisname, buy chocolates for his mother every month. Is it some sort of anniversary? He is a very devoted young man, isn’t he?” she said, hoping that young would be the most appropriate adjective to describe Miss Foxworthy’s regular customer.

  Jane looked sad.

  “Anniversary . . Anniversary?” she asked looking blankly ahead of her into space . . “Why yes, Dear. Oh! Yes, indeed it is an anniversary . . His mother died just over three years ago now . . and he never forgets.”

  Evie stared at Jane in amazement.

  “But Jane . . the chocolates . . the dark chocolates . . where nothing else will do . . what does he do with those?”

  “What do you think Dear? He gives them to his mother, of course . .”

  Evie looked out at the street and to the passers-by, wondering if it was she who had become strange since she had come to Glenfarach, but concluding after a few minutes, that it couldn’t possibly be . . Wills hadn’t noticed anything and if anybody would have done, it would have been he. . . . and he would certainly have said. . .

  “Miss Foxworthy . . Jane. . How can he give his mother chocolates if she’s . . I presume, buried in the graveyard?”

  “Quite simply Dear. He goes there and sits by the grave and eats them with her . . Really quite simple.”

  Evie looked again at the red wrapping paper. She would remember for sure. if . . No, when Mr. Gilmore-Platt next came to buy his chocolates.

  ***

  Jane Foworthy dusted her shelves meticulously and replaced her sweetie jars exactly as she had found them before they too had been dusted.

  “Oh! Dear, I find this ladder climbing business quite exhaustin’ . .I’m not as young as I used to be, that’s for sure,” she said as she came down the three steps of her miniature step-ladder and stuffed her yellow duster into the pocket of her tartan apron.

  “Why don’t you let me do that Jane?” Evie asked with concern, “ I can manage the ladder O.K. and anyway, it’s time to stop now. I’ve just made a pot of tea.”

  “Well done Dear . . I could just do with somethin’ to wet my drooth . .” Evie raised her eyebrows at the quote and Jane Foxworthy smiled. “That’s an expression my dear father used to use, Evie, when he was over thirsty and a pint of cool beer wouldn’t have gone amiss.”

  Evie laughed and poured the tea.

  “There are lots of quotations here that I will have to learn, . . if we stay long enough,” she said, but Miss Foxworthy had left the shop to shake her dusters into the street.

  “Surely you’ll be here for quite some time Evie . . . won’t you?” she enquired as she folded her yellow square with precision into a drawer under the counter.

  “Well, the contract is for twelve months . . as far as I can understand,” she said, knowing that she should not divulge the nature of Wills’ business to anyone in Glenfarach . . not even to the innocent and guileless Miss Foxworthy.

  “Oh! surely Dear. . If you like it here, you could stay on as long as you wish?”

  Evie could feel the pressure of inquiry, even if it was ever so slight and she decided to change the subject.

  “Who is to be the lucky man . . the one that Cynthia is to marry?” she patronized, without enthusiasm.

  “I really don’t know Evie . . It’s the ring that puzzles me. Have you seen it?”

  “No Jane . . Is it a very expensive one, would you say?” Jane Foxworthy did not answer immediately, as she sipped her tea. Her mind seemed to be somewhere, other than in her sweetie shop . . her neatly set out sweetie shop where all the sweetie jars were dusted to perfection and nothing was amiss. “Jane . . Are you alright? You’re looking a little pale. Can I get you anything? An aspirin perhaps?”

  Jane blinked as if Evie’s concern had brought her back to herself and to her thoughts.

  “Oh! no Dear. I’m fine . .It’s just that ring . . .and to use an old Scottish expression again, ‘Ah dinna like what ma mind is tellin’ me.’

  Evie took her cup in the palms of her hands. It was warming.

  “I’ll do the ‘takings’ in a moment Jane. I wanted to start that job when I first came in this morning, but we’ve had quite a few customers and I suppose it’s better to serve them and let the banking wait for a bit, yes?”

  “Oh! every time Dear . . but . . have we had that many customers this mornin’?”

  Evie looked again at Miss Foxworthy’s face. There was something wrong. She knew that Jane was a little absent minded, but she was also aware of the interest she held in her shop and it wasn’t in her character to miss anything that was going on in that concern.

  “Yes, we’ve had a few Jane.” she said, avoiding the incident of the young man who ate his dark chocolates at his mother’s grave.

  ***

  Evie counted the days takings into small plastic bags for the bank. She had been quite busy, much to her own surprise and hadn’t been able to look at the cash until it was nearly time for closing. As she took her coat from the stand in the back shop, she noticed the tea cups that she had forgotten to wash and apologised to Jane, as she went to remove her coat again.

  “No Evie. Leave all that. It’s gettin’ dark. You get home as soon as you can and besides, I’ve no doubt your husband will be waiting for his tea.”

  “I’ve got everything in hand at home, Jane and it won’t take me long to feed my Lord and Master,” she joked and she was pleasantly surprised to see Jane Foxworthy smile at her remark. It was the first time she had smiled all day and her nose crinkled as it always did when she was pleased about something .

  “There are still a few things I have to take care of, Evie and I’ll do the washin’ up. Goodnight and thanks again for your help.”

  “Goodnight Jane . . See you tomorrow afternoon.”

  Jane waved goodnight to Evie, but she didn’t immediately return to the washing up . . She sat silent and pensive in the back room of her sweetie shop, nibbling nervously at her finger nails, a habit she thought she had controlled many years ago, but she was afraid and anxious. She held her head in her hands for a moment as she fell back limply into her chair. . . closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with the damp palm of her hand.

  “The ring . . The ring, “ she moaned and rung her hands in despair.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I WOULDN’T GET TOO COSY IN THAT WEE SWEETIE SHOP, Sweetheart, If I were you. We shouldn’t be here in Scotland for very much longer, you know . . and I for one won’t be glad to get back to civilisation again.” Wills rested his hand gently on Evie’s shoulder as he spoke and kissed her neck tenderly.

  “Oh! I wouldn’t say they weren’t civilized up here Wills. I’ve made some god friends . .I mean, there’s Miss Foxworthy . . and little Danny.”

  “Well that’s two . . isn’t it? . . But never mind. I’ll be home about 6.30 this evening and we’ll have a talk then. I have one more meeting today, but I know how that’ll go. It’s an ultimatum, otherwise there will be a lot of people who will lose their jobs, but I think Mark and I have won through somehow.”

  “I’m only helping Miss Foxworthy until she can get a full time assistant . . but I think she’s sure that Cynthia will be back in a little while. I hope so . . for both their sakes.”

  Wills wrinkled up his face as he straightened his tie.

  “You’ve been with the old lady for nearly a week now, haven’t you? Hasn�
��t she had any success so far? I thought you told me that young Miss what’s’er name was getting married?”

  Evie smiled again and her eyes twinkled.

  “I don’t think they make confectionery assistants the way they used to for starters and as for the marriage business, I’m sure that’s just a fairy tale. Have you seen Cynthia, Darling?”

  “No, but if she’s a female, which I don’t doubt . . why do you suppose she won’t get married?”

  “She is saying all this nonsense to annoy her auntie . . That’s why.”

  Wills tucked some papers into his briefcase and looked about the room.

  “Have you seen that retractor I was using last night. The fairly large one, I mean?”

  “Yes, it’s there . . Look! under the cushion on the settee. You left it there and I sat on it twice this morning. Could have done myself a serious mischief.”

  Wills giggled . .”Yes, I’m sure that must have been very painful,” he grunted as he stuffed the instrument into his briefcase with the one end sticking out from under the flap.

  “You could be arrested for having that thing, you know. It could well be classed as a dangerous weapon, sticking out there like that,” she commented but he ignored her remarks about the sacred tools of his trade.

  Wills was about to leave the house when he turned round again to face Evie.

  “That girl . . Cynthia is it? She’s not at the sweetie shop now, is she?”

  “Oh! You are bright, Wills. That’s what I’ve been telling you for the past week.”

  “Doesn’t anyone know where she is then?” he asked with apparent concern and Evie pondered for a moment pulling a strand of her hair into her mouth.

  “Nobody knows where she went when she left The Heathers. I know Miss Foxworthy is worried, but she’s acting very cool . . even if she keeps forgetting things and there’s a constant strain on her face.”