Jane Forxworthy

by Paul Kelly

  “Thank you,” she said in her own silent way, “I don’t want to be a trouble,” and her hands moved graciously with her fingers, showing her appreciation as she stared back at Wills, before she side glanced at Evie again, “But I must go home this evening,” she added hastily.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Jane . . It’s Evie here. How are you this morning?”

  Miss Foxworthy was dusting her Rowntree shelf when the telephone rang.

  “Oh! I’m very much my old self again Dear, thank you for askin’. How are you? Will you be in this afternoon?”

  “Yes of course I will Jane . . Oh! Jane . . .”

  “Yes Dear?”

  “Jane, I have young Danny here with me at ‘Brigadoon’ She stayed the night with us as my car battery was low and I couldn’t get her home. Well, you know what it was like last night. The wind was just howling and the storm was ferocious, wasn’t it? Has anyone been enquiring about her? I mean, I don’t suppose Angus McPherson was making any enquiries, was he?” There was a peculiar snorting sound coming from the telephone as Evie waited for her answer. “What was that you said Jane?” she called out anxiously, but there was a further pause and a silence ensued before Miss Foxworthy spoke again.

  “Evie are you there? This line is so bad. It must be this blasted weather. No Dear, I haven’t heard from the McPherson house . . not in years,” she emphasized rather ironically, “But Evie, Can you remember that ring . . the one that Cynthia had on her finger when she came into the shop last week? Oh dear no! You wouldn’t have done. She didn’t wear it in the shop. I saw it at the Heathers, didn’t I?”

  “Jane Dear . . I never saw the ring . . You told me about it, remember. It was a large sapphire, I think wasn’t it . . and very unique and expensive, if I remember rightly. Why? Why do ask me about that? Has Cynthia come back?”

  Another long silence ensued.

  “No Dear . . . it’s not important, but could you possible get into the shop a little earlier than usual today. Perhaps about eleven? I’ll pay you for the extra time, of course.”

  “Sure that will be O.K Jane. Don’t think about the extra payment, but do you mind if I bring Danny along with me? She’ll be at a loose end here on her own and I wouldn’t want her walking back to her grandfather in all this rain.”

  “Not at all Evie. Bring her along, by all means, but Evie . . .?”

  “Yes Jane?”

  “Evie . . if your car battery was low, couldn’t your husband have taken the child home to her grandfather in his car?”

  Evie stood back and stared at the telephone mouthpiece in surprise for a moment before she spoke again.

  “His car? It is his car, Jane. We only have the one.”

  Miss Foxworthy coughed lightly at the other end of the line and tapped her chest with the flat of her hand.

  “Oh! I see Dear. I hope you didn’t mind me askin’ . .It’s only that her grandfather will naturally be upset if she is out all night . . I’m sure you understand. Did you contact him Dear and tell him what had happened?”

  Evie thought well and hard before she answered.

  “No Jane. . . well, yes, I did try to phone him, but as I’ve already said the weather was so bad, I think there was something wrong with his line. I kept getting the engaged signal,” she lied and the thought of Cynthia and her expensive ring flashed across her mind.

  “Well Dear, I have somethin’ to do and I must do it rather urgently, so if you don’t mind comin’ in earlier today, that will suit me fine.”

  “And you’re sure it will be alright to bring Danny with me?”

  “Yes, of course Dear. You are so kind to that child. I wish I had some of your natural maternal instincts, Evie. I really can’t stand children if the truth were known and I only took Cynthia as Bella was in so much trouble at the time and as I said, I thought it would only be for a few months. It would have been better if both the girls had gone to Angus McPherson when Bella was ill.. I can see that now. It was silly to separate them so young and now they don’t know they are sisters and Cyn. doesn’t even know she had a mother . .”

  Evie was startled when Jane Foxworthy told her that and she gasped.

  “What? Surely you told Cynthia about Bella . . at some time when she was with you as a child?” Evie asked, but Jane just raised her shoulders and shook her head.

  “Bella was never strong, Evie. I thought she was dyin’ when I took Cyn. as a favour to her and I thought it best not to give the little one too many details. Bella could have died at any time, she was so weak and anyway, that’s how she wanted it. She knew Cynthia was alright with me and she had enough to do to look after Danny.”

  Evie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she reflected on what Jane Foxworthy was telling her. How very different in character they were, she thought.

  “See you about eleven then Jane. Bye,” she uttered rather sadly into the phone.

  “Bye Evie and thanks again.”

  ***

  Evie had said nothing to Miss Foxworthy about her suspicions that Cynthia was staying at Angus McPherson’s house, but her thoughts were ragged as she considered all the facts in her mind.

  Did Cynthia know that Angus McPherson was her grandfather . . and did old McPherson know that Cynthia was Bella’s child? Who was the man who proposed to Cynthia? Was he with her at McPherson’s house or was he stalking somewhere near, ready to elope when the coast was clear? Danny was the only one in the picture who seemed to fit the bill correctly. She knew McPherson was her grandfather and he knew she was his granddaughter, but then she didn’t know that Cynthia was her sister. Danny knew her mother but Cynthia didn’t . . Why wasn’t the old man out on the warpath by this time, knowing that Danny was missing? Very strange, she thought, considering he kept her under lock and key when she lived with him. It was such a mix up and she was beginning to feel a headache coming on, but she was glad that she had been able to persuade Danny to stay the night at ‘Brigadoon’ even if she was more than surprised that she hadn’t had a raging telephone call by now from the old Bull . . .

  Wills had gone off to the office happily with his car battery recharged, if anyone should ask again . . . and remarking for the umpteenth time, before he went about the transformation to Danny in her Danube blue dress and suggesting that Evie should let her have some pearls or some other kind of jewellery to go with it . . .

  Men, she thought, whoever knows what they are thinking in their little heads, half the time . . Bless them.

  ***

  Jane Foxworthy tidied her shelves with her usual meticulous care and her brand new chamois leather duster brought a brilliant shine to the dullest of her sweetie jars. She was always proud of her arrangements, however on this particular occasion, her mind was not on her sweeties, nor

  on decorative shelving as the rain beat down heavily on the pavement outside her shop. spitting its venom hard against the sweetie shop walls She was sure she had recognised the ring that Cynthia was wearing and had hoped that Evie would have confirmed what she had seen, since the thought of that ring gave her a tragic feeling of doom and unhappiness. If it was the same one she remembered and she could hardly think otherwise as it was so unique, it had caused so much misery and unhappiness in the past that she was fearful of what it might do in the future. She shuddered and dropped one of her jars to the floor where it smashed into smithereens

  Outside, the dark clouds loomed in the greyest of skies and her sparkling shelves lost their lustre in the gloom that pervaded her sweetie empire. A flash of lightning sparked for a second against the gold and silver labels on the other jars and illuminated her small shop for an instant before it was plunged again into darkness. She switched on the lights as thunder roared through her ears and heavy rain drops peppered the display windows, presenting a varied rhythm as the lights flickered and then went out.

/>   “Cynthia is only a child,” she murmured to herself as she groped around in the dark for an ash pan and brush to sweep up the broken glass. “There must be some mistake in all this,” she went on as the door bell pinged it’s solitary note and Evie came into the shop, pushing Danny before her out of the driving rain. She pulled her head scarf from her head laughing happily as she shook her umbrella in the porch outside.

  “Hello Danny . . .” Jane Foxworthy’s voice was flat and unenthusiastic as she greeted her visitor and Danny was prompted to answer “Good morning” but her fingers would not move. She blew her warm breath into them and smiled. “Take her through to the back Evie and you can both dry off. I’m afraid my lights have gone. I think it must have been a power cut . . a lightnin’ strike or somethin’ . . It happened so suddenly.” Miss Foxworthy put down her ash pan and sucked her finger. “There now I’ve gone and cut the bloody thing . .Oh! Sorry Evie. Sorry Danny . .”

  Evie bustled Danny into the back shop and checked the gas. It was working and she put a whistling kettle on one of the rings on the stove.

  “Let me put a plaster on that finger Jane. Is it bleeding very much? Here, rinse your hands under the tap.”

  Evie knew where to find the first aid box and was able to do the necessary.

  “I dropped a bloody . . well, I dropped a jar of sweeties in the dark, that’s all,” Jane explained, “I’ve cleared it all up now and you won’t find any more glass lyin’ around . . Oh! That’s great, the lights have come on again.” Danny had not heard a word of the conversation. Instead, she was studying the look on Miss Foxworthy’s face and in particular, the furtive, anxious look in her eyes. “I won’t be very long Evie. . . “Miss Foxworthy continued, “I just have to do this thing now or I’ll never do it. It is kind of you to come in early”

  “But Jane . . Your finger . . It’s still bleeding, Look!”

  Jane Foxworthy stuck her finger in her mouth as she bustled her way to the hall stand where her lilac and orange coat hung under her new floral hat . . the one where the ostrich feathers tucked under the chin . . if you were successful enough, otherwise, they just drooped down over the collar and blew about in the wind.

  “I’m fine Evie. . . Just fine, so don’t fuss. You make a nice cup of tea for yourself and Danny here and I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Evie shrugged her shoulders as she led Danny into the back shop where the kettle whistled and demanded attention as Miss Foxworthy struggled into her multi-coloured garments, but on this occasion. she paid no attention to the details of colour and mix as she usually did.

  “Take as long as you like Jane. Willson and Mark are at another one of their meetings and so goodness knows how long they’ll be, but I want to spend as much time as I can with Danny, so we’ll be O.K. here.”

  Evie looked at the little girl standing beside her and wondered if her grandfather had been out looking for her by this time. Perhaps I should phone him, she thought, or maybe I should have taken Danny back last night. I know the night was wild, but I could have got a taxi for her, I suppose . . She was full of self-recriminations but when she looked at Danny’s face, they all melted away into something of no great importance. The only and most important thing on her mind at that moment was to ensure the happiness of her young friend. . . if only for a few hours before she returned to her incarceration . .

  Jane was unusually silent as she donned her lilac and orange coat and left the shop, grabbing an umbrella which dangled from her thick wrist as she pulled an aubergine scarf down over her floral crown, disregarding the ostrich feathers which blew about angrily into the wind in every direction. They returned, one after the other, to hit her in the eye and she tugged them from their source and threw them scornfully to the ground.

  “Bloody things . . The price a girl has to pay for vanity . . well, I ask you?” she moaned and raised her eyes to the darkening sky as a gust of wind stopped her in her tracks. She felt in her pockets for her poppy red gloves, struggling with the gamp which had already turned itself inside out and made her want to spit. . . and her coat hugged her ample figure as she braved the wind.

  Evie closed the shop door as it flew open with the wind and rain splashed across the floor. They could see Miss Foxworthy disappear around the corner, her boots by this time squelching in the blinding rain, but Evie only saw the left one which was blue . .there was no telling what colour the other was, however she held on to her hat and battled on regardless. Evie looked at Danny and they both giggled.

  “We have the shop to ourselves now, my wee lamb,” she mimicked something she had heard someone say in the High Street and hoped that her young companion would smile and perhaps feel more at home, but Danny’s face resumed a sombre expression as she followed Evie into the kitchen. Evie’s face softened.

  “Don’t worry about your grandfather Danny. . . I’ll talk to him on the ‘phone just as soon as we’ve had a cup of tea . . promise.”

  Danny raised her hands slowly and deliberately before her fingers began to talk.

  “I am more concerned for Miss Foxworthy,” she said, “She has a great sadness on her mind . . I can see it in her eyes.

  Evie poured the tea, but Danny’s remarks disturbed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  JANE FOXWORTHY TOOK GREAT CARE as she muddled on through the rain in an attempt to control the mad antics of her black and gold umbrella, with the tangerine interior. It flashed about in the air, sometimes upright and at other times, inside out, so that the original colour was hard to distinguish. A car hooted its horn as she stepped from the pavement and swerved to avoid hitting her before hooting repeatedly for a second time, but Jane Foxworthy went on her way undeterred until she arrived home at ‘The Heathers’. It was beginning to get dark as she thrust her door key into the lock and pulled her poppy red glove from her other hand with her teeth. The door opened and she went in, leaving her wrecked and battered umbrella in the porch, but as she scurried upstairs to her bedroom her thoughts were jangled and unreal in the fear of what she had instinctively anticipated. She rushed to the sideboard by the window and pulled open the bottom drawer, frantically pushing everything about in her attempts to find what she was looking for. A bundle of tattered leather diaries, held together with an elastic band bounced out from the knickknacks that she had disturbed and she grabbed it and threw it onto the bed. Her face paled as she unsnapped the band and slid it over her wrist. Hastily she scoured the diaries to find that the years 1957 and 58 were missing and her lips began to tremble as perspiration stood out on her brow as she tightened her mouth in fear. . . . remembering those barren, loveless years where her life seemed to have come to an end and she herself had wanted to die and where Bella had been so ill with the birth of her babies Yes, 1957 and 8 were years she could well have done without. Years that she wanted to forget. Years that she wanted to tear out of her life as someone had done with her diary. . . . Involuntarily she closed her eyes as she reached out to touch the side of the chest of drawers where she had found the letters to find a button that was camouflaged by the ornate wood design surrounding the furniture. There was a dull click and a small panel on the outside, shot out, revealing a tiny false drawer.

  She opened her eyes again and sighed with relief as she gazed into the small orifice. The key was still there. The key she had not touched or used for the past thirty years when times had been so different then and Angus McPherson had welcomed her every visit. There were nights when he had waited impatiently by candlelight, for her love . . waited urgently, passionately in anticipation of the joy of the love they would share together.

  Jane’s mouth hardened into a thin line as she reflected on those nights of passion and delight when the world consisted only of herself and Angus McPherson. Long, long nights of desire

  and of unbridled passion . . until Margaret came on the scene.

  She held the key in the palm of her h
and and squeezed it so tight the impression showed on her skin and the cracks began to bleed.

  “I must go quickly . . I must,” she muttered as she raced down the stairs and out of the front door, like a bat from hell. Her coat blew about in the wind where she had secured it only with the neck button and she ran into the blinding rain, totally abandoning any thought for the umbrella which by this time was in ruins anyway. Her hair rose into the air and flew about in all directions as she pushed it from her eyes. “I must . . I must,” she continued to mumble and squelched her way across the fields that would take her quicker to her destination.

  ***

  A single light from a bedroom window lit up the darkness as she approached the house and the winds beat her hair into her scalp as she stood in the shadows under the fir tree near the porch.

  Her breathing was laboured and she took a deep breath to calm herself and to allay the anger that she felt in her heart. Was it so long ago that she had loved Angus McPherson? Was it so long ago that she had stood where she was standing now under the fir tree and waited for his signal for her to come to the house where he was waiting and yearning for her? Jane Foxworthy dried a warm tear away from the cold rain drops that ran down her face. She shivered and pulled her coat around her and then she looked down at her hand . . and at the key that she held there. Slowly she approached the house and a bolt of lightning silhouetted her figure against the porch for a second before everything went black again and a roar of thunder followed. She moved into the porch and her hands shook, but she steadied them, holding her right hand by the wrist for a second. She stared at the keyhole . . the entrance to the joy of yesteryear and another tear rolled down her cheek before she inserted the key, but it refused to turn in the lock. The door was already open . . .She put her hand on the door knob. It felt wet and sticky from the rain and she dried her hand quickly on her skirt as she slowly pushed open the door, making it creak as she pushed it wider. The lower part of the house was in darkness, but she knew where to go. Angus never moved anything. The furniture was just as it was when she had last visited and the lightning verified her path as she walked on tip toe towards the stairs. One by one she walked up, taking care to ensure that the creaking was kept to the minimum and moving about on the steps to make her way as quietly as she could, but old houses always made funny noises and the more so in the dark. . . she knew that.