EARL
GREY WITH GINGERBREAD BISCUITS
“Really Ethel, I don’t know how
you can live in a place like this.” Her
guest, one of her oldest and dearest friends, shook out her coat and hung it up
on the little coat rack by the door.
“That’s another pair of expensive shoes ruined.”
“I’ve told you before and I’m
telling you again,” she said, ushering her friend to the sofa. They seemed to go through the same ritual
every fortnight when she came in from the city.
“Shoes like that aren’t fit to walk through the woods in; you should buy
a decent pair of boots.” She clicked her
heels. “Like these.”
“Me? Seen in those hideous things? I think not.”
“It’s that or keep ruining your
fancy shoes. Just ‘cos it looks pretty
don’t mean it’s practical.”
“One must keep up appearances
dear. Polite society would shun me. Shun me, Ethel.”
“Mavis,” she hobbled over to
the door leading into the kitchen, “it’s not like you can’t afford to keep
buying new shoes. I’ll go get the tea;
the kettle just whistled before you knocked.”
“Earl Grey today?” She heard Mavis shout from the lounge. “I really fancy a bit of Earl Grey.”
“Yes dear.” She popped a couple of tea bags into the pot
and poured on the hot water. She picked
out her fanciest tea cosy and dressed the pot before placing it on the tray containing
her most delicate china. “How are the
daughters?” She always used her best
crockery when Mavis visited.
“Don’t ask.”
“That bad dear?” She made sure the biscuits were arranged
neatly before heading back to the lounge.
She placed the tray on the table and sat on the edge of her
armchair. “I thought your eldest were
doing really well?” She lifted the
teapot.
“Oh, the two eldest girls are
wonderful. They’ve been excited about
the big fancy do on Saturday.” Mavis
daintily picked up a slice of lemon and dropped it in her cup. “No sugar, love; I’m trying to cut down.”
“Has that meddling old doctor
been up in your drawers again?” She
poured some tea into her own cup and dropped in a sugar cube. The spoon clinked against the china as she
stirred.
“No, no nothing like that. Need to start looking after myself; getting
old Ethel.”
“Aren’t we all,” she said,
dropping in a second sugar cube. “And
what about your youngest?”
She sighed. “Trying my patience.” Her friend took a sip from her cup. “She’s just so lazy. Never does her chores properly; I really
don’t know what I’m going to do with her.
And you know the worst part? She
keeps letting mice into the house! Tells
me she feels sorry for them and they need a home too. She feeds them. Bloody vermin.”
“Language, Mavis.” Ethel sat back in the chair and took in the
aromatic scent of her tea. “It sounds
like you need to give that girl a little chastising. Teach her a lesson. She’s in your house; she’s got to show some
respect.” She waved her hand over the
plate of biscuits. “Help yourself to
some biscuits.”
“Well, she’s already banned
from leaving the house. And I’ve told
her she is not to go to the do with her sisters.” Mavis reached for the tray and paused. “Really, dear? Gingerbread men? After I told you what happened to that baker
the last time I was here?”
She giggled. “Oh come on Mavis, you’ve got to let me have
a little bit of fun now and again.”
“It’s morbid is what it is,
Ethel.” The old woman picked up one of
the little men and took a bite.
“Mmm. Fair play, you’ve outdone
yourself again; you’ll have to give me the recipe.”
“See?” She took a little tipple of her own tea. “We’re not too old to keep enjoying
ourselves.”
“You know Hyacinth’s girl? She’s still living in that cottage.” Mavis put the one-legged man on the saucer
with her cup. “With those men. Helping them clean up the place apparently.”
“Well I never! It’s not right. A young girl shacked up with a bunch of old
men! If you ask me, she’s doing more
than polishing their ornaments.
Disgusting!”
“Ethel!”
“Well, what else is she doing
there? I heard they all sleep in the
same room.”
“I’m sure it’s all
innocent. They are old men after all;
they probably can’t look after themselves.”
“I know what’s she looking
after. We all know what men are like.”
“Ethel!”
“It’s her poor mother I feel
sorry for; it can’t be easy with the father gone.”
“I know, dear. I’ve struggled since losing Henry.”
“I’m sorry, Mavis.” She patted her friend's knee. “I didn’t mean to bring it up like that.”
“Quite alright.” The old woman took another nibble of the
gingerbread. The other leg. “You know Hyacinth tried to go to talk to
her? Bring her home.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes. But you know what that little upstart said to
her? Told her to go take a long walk off
a short cliff!”
“Girls these days don’t know
any respect.”
“It’s terrible. Hyacinth is so worried about her; she’s been
sneaking apples down to her from the orchard.”
“And the girl was rude to her?”
Mavis nodded and pursed her
lips. “It’s all going to end in misery,
mark my words.”
“Oh my.” Ethel took another sip of tea. The cup was almost empty. “Did you hear about what happened to poor old
Gertrude?”
“Is she back in hospital
again? She’s always so sickly; stuck in
that bed in the middle of nowhere with no family close. All alone in that forest. Like you.
And, Ethel, her granddaughter is the only one who goes to visit her. Poor thing.
It’s a wonder no wolves have gobbled her up.”
“Brace yourself, dear. Something horrible happened.” She leaned forward and filled up her cup from
the pot. “Allegedly, it’s all that
grandchild’s fault. She was murdered,
Mavis.”
“No?!”
“Oh yes dear. Murder.”
“And the granddaughter did it?”
“Well, apparently she was
getting it on with one of the woodcutters.
He said he did it for her. To
save her. Sliced Gertrude open with his
axe.” She drew a line across her belly
with her finger. “Cut her wide open and
spilled her insides everywhere.”
“Ethel, please don’t be so
tasteless. You’re going to put me off my
tea.”
“The things people do for
love. It’s a sick world, Mavis.”
“That poor woman. She didn’t have it easy.” She brought her cup up to her lips. “Well, I suppose that’s why the girl was the
only one going to visit her, if you know what I mean.” She shook herself. “It’s just all so gruesome. What a horrible thing to bring up.”
“Just keeping you up to date,
dear.” Ethel leaned forward and picked
up one of the gingerbread men. “Anyway,
it’s no worse than what you told me about that young man last time.” She bit off the head. “Breaking into that man’s house, robbing him
blind. And then when he got caught…”
“That’s a little bit different,
Ethel.”
“I don’t see how. The mess after falling from that height!”
“That young boy was
desperate. Now, I’m not saying it’s any
excuse for what he did, but he got conned out of some money, and his poor
mother and him were starving. They had
nothing. It’s just unfortunate he turned
to crime.”
“Still…”
“Murder is a very different
thing to theft, my dear.”
“True. True.”
She took another bite of the biscuit.
“But you can’t excuse what he did, Mavis.” She washed it down with a little more tea.
“No.”
Ethel topped up her friend’s
cup. “Any news on George’s daughter?”
“Not much.” She snuck a sugar cube into her cup.
“Sugar, Mavis?”
She tapped her finger on her
lip with a smirk. “She’s still living
with that beast of a man. Such a pretty
girl too.”
“I’ve heard the rumours. Heard he’s rich.”
“Very. Lives in a big mansion, but he’s not a
pleasant man from what I hear. Bit of a
temper. Not very well-endowed in the
looks department.”
“I can see why people think
she’s only there for the money.”
“Well, Ethel, she told her
father that it’s true love. She said
it's more important than looks.”
“Mmhmm.” She dipped one of the gingerbread man’s legs
into her tea and crunched it between her teeth.
“But that’s all very well, dear, but there has to be a limit.”
“George told me she was engaged
to some fella in the village before. Big
handsome fella.”
“Money over looks eh? I suppose she’s thinking of the future. Looks fade.”
“You haven’t seen him, Ethel.”
“That bad?”
“Oh yes.” Her friend sipped at the cup. “Beast of a man.”
“Oh dear oh dear.” She shook her head. “Girls these days, Mavis.”
“The men are just as bad. It wasn’t like this when we were gals.”
“No dear.”
“Anyway, Ethel.” She finished off the tea in her cup and
placed the crockery onto the table. “I
must be going.” She stood. “Got to go sort out the girl’s dresses and
get their shoes from the shoemaker. And
get myself some new shoes.”
Ethel stood, brushing the
crumbs from her apron. “Where is this
fancy do then?”
“At the castle.” She strode over to the door and picked up her
coat from the hook. “The prince is
hosting.”
“I can see why shoes are
important.”
“Why?” She slipped her arms in the sleeves.
“Well, I’m sure you heard about
the prince.”
“I’m sure whatever you’ve
heard, Ethel, it’s just rumour.”
“He’s got a bit of a… you know…
about feet.”
“Really Ethel, you can’t
believe everything you hear.”
“I’ll have you know, Mavis,
that I heard this from a very good source.
He likes his ladies’ shoes, that prince.
Especially after they’ve been worn.”
Her friend’s face scrunched up
in disgust as she pulled her coat over her shoulders and adjusted it.
“You never know,” said Ethel,
“might get you in with the royal family if one of your girls wears the right
shoes.”
“I shall bear that in
mind.” She reached for the door and
opened it.
“Don’t be a stranger,
Mavis.” The two old friends exchanged
air kisses. “I do look forward to your
visits.”
“As do I, dear. As do I.”
Mavis stepped out the door and looked around. “You know, Ethel, I don’t know how you keep
this house so nice. It must be difficult
with all the animals around.”
“It’s not the animals you’ve
got to worry about; it’s the kids.”
“No respect.”
“I know, I know. Anyway, take care and enjoy your fancy
do. I’ve got to get the oven preheated
for later. Having the grandkids for
dinner.”
“Take care dear.”
She waved to her friend and
closed the gingerbread door.
The End.
