Jane Forxworthy Read online

  “I don’t see everyone that comes in here, do I? Haven’t got eyes in the back of me head, have I?” Cynthia sneered and Evie looked at her in total disgust.

  “You must look at people . . surely . . However else could you serve them?”

  Cynthia stood with her hand on her hip and looked to the ceiling.

  “My auntie always tells me I should look without seein’ . . .”

  “What?”

  “I should look at people that come in ‘ere, but I shouldn’t make any judgement about them. I should just give them what they want and take their money an’ make sure they give me the right money . . that’s all I have to do. I look without seein’ . . . see?”

  Evie was stunned at such profound philosophy coming from the gyrating mouth of such a moron, but she could understand what Jane Foxworthy meant, even if the interpretation of her theory was rather loosely portrayed. Such a theory would certainly suit such a lazy person as Cynthia was . . she thought . . unless of course the boy with the kilt was to come in . . .

  “Did ye want anything? sweeties or that?”

  Evie looked to the floor for a second to collect her thoughts.

  “No thank you. I’ll come back later when your Aunt Jane is in. Do you know when that might be?”

  “Naw,” was the only answer she received, so she withdrew from the shop and the bell pinged her exit. She was beginning to hate that bloody bell, and Cynthia shifted from one foot to the other as she left. It had started to rain and she hurried towards her car, intending to visit old McPherson again . . well not him personally . . . when as she turned the corner she bumped into Miss Foxworthy.

  “Oh! dearie me . . It is, isn’t it?” Jane Foxworthy called out and Evie nodded, hoping she was the one that Miss Foxworthy had recognised, although she was quite prepared to be addressed again as Edie or even Eddy . . . “I thought it was you, Mrs. Slade . . How nice to see you again. How are you Dear?”

  Evie sighed with relief and smiled.

  “I’m fine thank you Jane . . but . . but it is you, I should be concerned about. I hope you have fully recovered from your illness.”

  Jane Foxworthy blinked under her pink and green rain hat and the brim fell forward to allow a flush of water to fall to the ground.

  “Illness . . Illness,” she repeated, “What illness dear? Oh! You mean the time you came to visit me? Yes, yes, of course . . well you could call that illness, I suppose. I’m up and down so often dear . . Like a yo-yo . .” she laughed at her own pun, “But I’m absolutely fine now. Taking my constitutional, you might say . .”

  Evie put her hand out to feel the rain that was beating down heavier by the moment.

  “I think you should be at home . . in this weather, Jane. It’s hardly weather for walking, is it?”

  “Does one good dear. Spot of rain never did anyone any harm. My old mother used to say, it made you grow.” Jane nodded in confirmation of what her dear mother had said, “But I’m on my way to the shop dear. Care to join me and we can have a cup of tea . . or somethin’ stronger if Cyn hasn’t emptied that bottle of . . Holy Water. She always does you know and very annoyin’ it is too.”

  Evie wondered about the Holy Water but decided to wait until she saw the evidence so that she could judge for herself.

  “I’d be pleased to join you, Jane . . I’ve just left the shop as a matter of fact and . . Cynthia . . Cyn seems to be doing very nicely, I would say.”

  “Nice enough child really, Evie . . but a bit harem scarem, you know. Her grandmother wasn’t too bright upstairs, but then I think I told you about that, didn’t I . . Oh! well, if I didn’t . . it’ll keep till another time. Bloody uninterestin’ anyway. I was the only one in the family with a level head. My father said I should have gone onto teachin’, you know.”

  Evie hesitated when Jane said that.

  “But . . But haven’t you been to college for . . . speech therapy . or something?” she said, but Jane screwed up her face and laughed.

  “Speech therapy . . Oh! Goodness, you’ve been talkin’ to the old wives in the village, haven’t you, dear? Everyone thinks because I speak properly and pronounce my words like a lady that I’ve had speech trainin’ . . . but you know dear,” Jane stopped talking suddenly and shoved her tongue into the side of her cheek. “I think I may have done . . sometime. I just can’t remember, but I’ve got a feelin’ I learnt how to speak properly somewhere . . . from someone. Well . . It doesn’t matter anyway. I can speak better than anyone and I know that and everyone else knows that, so where’s the problem, eh?” She chuckled and wiped the rain from her eye with the back of her hand. “To the shop dear . . post haste,” she cried and started to run.

  Five minutes later and soaked to the skin, Evie was sorry she had met Miss Foxworthy just at the moment she did. Nothing seemed to upset this lady’s equilibrium, whatever the weather, day or night. She was always the same . . unpredictable.

  “Can you put the kettle on, Cyn dear?” Miss Foxworthy called out as the doorbell pinged and Evie wanted to scream.

  “Jane . . I really think you should change your shoes. Look they’re soaking wet . . and .”

  Evie was startled when she looked at Jane Foxworthy’s feet, which had hitherto been hidden under her heavy, long black cape but her imprints were all over the shop floor. She had a red and a blue sandal . . One on each foot.

  “Yes, I’ll do that in a moment dear,” Jane said as she wrestled with her corset or whatever else she was wearing under her thick woollen aubergine dress, “I have another pair at home. . . exactly the same as these, you know,” she added proudly and Evie looked to the floor. She knew she should have expected something like this, but even then, the reality of the situation baffled her.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to wear the blue ones first, Jane . . and then the red ones perhaps?” she ventured to suggest, but Jane Foxworthy tipped a handful of tea into the teapot and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  “No . . No dear, not at all. Why variety is the spice of life, you know. It’s contrast, girl . . contrast . . That’s what makes allure in a woman . . I thought you would understan’ that dear.”

  Yes, of course Jane. How remiss of me not to realize,” Evie said and started to change the subject as the kettle began to rattle at boiling point and Cyn, still chewing, splashed the water into the teapot .

  “Now we’ll have a nice cup of tea, Evie dear and Cyn can have one when we’ve finished. Can’t all be out of the shop at once, can we Darlin’ . .?” Jane called out but Cyn had gone back to her magazine and her cement-mixer mouth never stopped.

  “Jane . . I’m a little worried about Danny. I think she has an awful lot of work to do for a little girl . . don’t you?”

  “You don’t take sugar do you dear?”

  “No thank you Jane, but I was talking about Danny.”

  “Yes dear, I heard you, but I think her grandfather has a rough time with her. She’s not just the sweet little girl, she appears to be, you know.”

  Jane listened in utter dismay at Jane Foxworthy’s remarks.

  “But Jane . . She’s only a child and she shouldn’t be expected to take care of an old man, simply because he’s her grandfather, surely.”

  Miss Foxworthy left her cup on the table as she went into the shop and told Cynthia to go up the road and get her some cream buns from the baker. She undid the top of her dress and waved her hand furiously in the air as threw back her head.

  “Even in the coldest days, I still feel the heat,” she said and continued waving in the air. “Do you like cream buns, Evie?”

  “Well no . . er Yes . . I don’t mind. I’ll have anything you are having but I don’t want you to get anything special for me . .”

  “We won’t dear . . Cyn and I often have a cream bun, but I really think I should stop her havin’ them. It
’s her skin, you know. She’s comin’ out in some terrible spots. Her age doesn’t help either, shouldn’t wonder.”

  Evie listened, but not as sympathetically as perhaps Miss Foxworthy had expected.

  “Danny doesn’t have spots,” she said, with a purposeful voice, “She has lovely skin actually.”

  Miss Foxworthy grinned as she stared at Evie but there was a certain annoyance in her eye.

  “When people add actually to a sentence, it means they’re not sure of what they mean, dear. A thing is either one thing or the other, not actually this or that . . and another thing dear . .

  Did you know that you can say what you want to someone, even if you are bein’ the most sarcastic bitch there is, if you add dear, at the end of your sentence. You know . . Like . . You’re awfully pretty dear. Your as ugly as sin, dear . . .It softens the meanin’, if you get my drift . . like actually . . . dear, doesn’t it?”

  Evie looked at Jane Foxworthy with a confused stare in her eye. She wasn’t actually sure what the hell she was prattling on about, but she could hardly say that . . could she. . . .

  “What are you actually prattling on about dear . . I can’t understand a bloody word you mean, dear . .” she thought and knew that Jane Foxworthy wouldn’t like that . . not one little bit dear . . . and at that moment the dear Cynthia returned with the buns.

  “These youngsters would rule the roost if you let them, you know,” Jane went on and her tone was decidedly hostile. Evie stood back as her guest threw her arms about in the air. “Give them an inch and they’ll take a span, they will dear . .”

  Evie pondered over that particular spark of wisdom and decided that the demon drink . . er Holy Water made Miss Foxworthy a much kinder and softer person actually . . . and she decided that Jane should take her medicine more often as she scanned the back shop for the evidence she was looking for, but without success.

  “Did you get three buns, Cyn? I can only see two . . Oh! What’s this? Ah! I see you’ve brought my favourite sandwich . . Yes, I’d rather have that than a cream bun actually . . Ooops! I’ve said that word, haven’t I Evie, but I would rather have a chicking sandwich, so you can have the cream bun dear. I know you would prefer that.”

  Evie sighed . . .Everything was convenient when it suited Miss Foxworthy, it seemed.

  “Well . . Actually . . . “ Evie emphasized her last word, “I have to be going soon. Wills will be home for dinner earlier than usual this evening and I have quite a lot to prepare beforehand.”

  Jane Foxworthy smiled as she sunk her dentures into her chicking sandwich and Cyn licked her fingers with the remaining cream from the second bun she had just devoured.

  “Bye Jane . . Bye Cynthia. . . Enjoy your . . er . . lunch, girls.”

  “Bye Mrs. Slade,” Miss Foxworthy called out and then she whispered quietly into Evie’s ear, “Mind how you go dear and don’t worry about Danny. That one knows how to look after herself.”

  Evie left the shop with mixed feelings. First it was Evie and now it was Mrs. Slade, but as she opened the shop door, there was silence . . . the bell didn’t ring. . .

  Chapter Twenty

  EVIE LEFT HER CAR AT THE END OF THE LANE, leading to Angus McPherson’s cottage and walked the rest of the way to the house on foot, taking care to tread lightly through the snow that had fallen quite heavily in the last ten minutes of her journey. Her imprints would have revealed her assignation to anyone who was interested, but she was more concerned not to ruin her best shoes.

  The smoke rose from the chimney as she approached . . a welcome sign in normal circumstances, she thought, but she knew that wasn’t a sign that the house was occupied and it was certainly no assurance of a welcome. That chimney smoked day and night, it seemed.

  She blew her warm breath into the palms of her hands before she pulled on her gloves, making short moist blasts of gray cloud in the air as she did so. It was a bitterly cold day. The snow was falling deeper by the moment and she was glad that Wills had allowed her to use the car that morning. He would probably be on his way home by now, she thought . . and she pictured him toasting his feet by the fire in his snug carpet slippers. Living the life of the country gentleman . . .

  For a moment, she shivered and wished she were with him . . . but the thought of Danny changed her mind as she ploughed onwards, where her footprints stood out black and clear in the virgin snow, as she glanced back at the car. She could only just see the front wheels by this time as the snow had come down in a heavy flurry around her face and she pulled her scarf closer about her neck. A little robin surprised her as he bounced excitedly in her path as she brushed against an evergreen, causing a cloud of silver, white dust to fall to the ground.

  She wondered what she would say to whoever would answer the door when she knocked. Old McPherson would chase her . . she felt sure of that, but the thought of seeing Danny again settled her anxieties and gave her the courage to brave what seemed the inevitable. She sighed and quickened her pace, sliding as she went. She had grown very fond of the young girl, for reasons she could not fully explain, but where the heart rules, logic has no place. Perhaps it was because she reminded her of Jeremy . . Poor Jeremy . . He too was born deaf and dumb and it was really only when she went into her teenage years that she fully understood the difficulties he must have had all his life. He would laugh off his infirmities . . and Evie had laughed with him . . until she tried one day to plug her own ears and time herself not top speak for one hour . . .After half that time, she wanted to scream . . .

  She hoped if she did see Danny that she would be smiling. It was hurtful to her to see anything else in her small round face. The silence and the stillness, save for the crunching sound of the white blanket under her feet, made her all the more apprehensive as she moved slowly towards the open porch, with its blanched top rails and steps of rounded, smooth, foamy richness. Everything looked like a pristine Christmas Card and it seemed a pity to mar this pure unsullied carpet with her footprints, as she pondered on what next to do. If she approached by the back entrance, that would give it’s own tell-tale story, so she stood still in her indecision before making her next move.

  “Is there anyone at home?” she called out softly and then a second time, much louder,

  “Is there anyone at home?” Her voice echoed in the hills around and came back to her in the eerie silence, ‘Anyone at home . . at home . . at home . .’ it repeated and a fall of light powder dust from the arched porch roof, fell around her feet, followed by a heavier drift which missed her head by inches. She shuddered as she waited and studied the windows for any sign of movement, but there was none. Wearily . . and yet with a strange inexplicable sense of relief, she turned away and retraced her steps to the car, using the prints that she had already made and she laughed as she went.

  “Why is it that I always count my steps when I’m going anywhere?” she giggled, “What a silly thing to do, but I’ve always done that . . thirteen, fourteen, fifteen . . .” but she had only gone a few yards when she noticed something or someone moving in the bushes, near the side of the house and a familiar figure appeared from a cluster of surrounding holly, with red buds sparking vividly against the green, prickly, silver tipped leaves. Evie blinked and a snow flake fell from her lashes as she rubbed her eye.

  “Is that you Danny?” she said in a low voice and scanned the bushes for further sign of life as the little girl came forward. She tried to move her lips in the way that she had seen Evie do, but her fingers spoke more clearly than her mouth ever could have done.

  “I am well,” she said in her muted way, “I have been thinking about you.”

  Evie stretched out her arms involuntarily and all the apprehension and raw feelings of doubt were dispelled from her mind. Danny ran to her and they embraced.

  “Your face is so cold, my Love.” Evie spoke, pronouncing each word, with excessive lip movement as she
touched the little girl’s cap. It was a large, floppy checked thing that fell down into her eyes and Evie removed it slowly to expose the close cropped hair that made Danny look like a boy. She cupped the little girl’s chubby face in her gloved hands.

  “I have been thinking about you too . . lots and lots . . and hoping you were happy.”

  Evie moved her lips again with exaggerated movements before she realized that she need not have done so. . She remembered Jeremy . .

  “You can read my lips, can’t you Dear?” she said in her ordinary voice and the little girl nodded. She was glad, as the muscles around her mouth were tight with the cold and words did not come easy. Danny’s eyes sparkled and her pink cheeks shone as she threw her arms around Evie, but Evie could only close her eyes in sorrow. She pressed her mouth close to the little girl’s temple and formed her words against her skin.

  “I love you, little girl,” she whispered with slow deliberation as if to drive out any doubts that the child might have of her intentions or her thoughts. Danny’s lips moved to kiss Evie’s cheek as she tried to respond. It was a wildly inaccurate attempt, but Evie knew exactly what she meant. “Can you come for a drive?” she asked enthusiastically, but Danny’s eyes told her that it was not possible.

  “Grandpa will be home soon. He has gone into the village to sell some chickens in the market,” came the answer on ten fingers.

  Evie could feel the warmth returning to her face and she twitched her mouth into full control, moving her lips freely, so that she could talk again without hindrance.

  “What about Christmas? Can you come and spend Christmas with Willson and me?”

  she asked, knowing that her request was a vanity, but her hopes were high as Danny’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands, but her answer came back just as Evie knew it would.

  “I cannot leave Grandpa on his own, but I would have loved to have spent Christmas with you,” Danny answered and raised her arms to make a bow above her head as she snapped her fingers like a Spanish dancer.