That Terrible Woman

Then she went upstairs and laid out the black shift that she had once bought from Valeria Rossi’s Mode Fashion. Mr Timms was collecting her at seven o’clock, leaving plenty of time to meet the girls at a quarter-past-seven. Edna undressed and then out came her electric Carmen rollers. She had bought them in the 1970s, preserving them carefully. They still worked as well as ever, probably because she rarely used them, but today they were a necessity. Then came the hardly ever worn makeup, and after ten minutes basic application of a pinch of Yardley natural rose rouge cream, a dusting with Revlon translucent cream puff powder, a touch of Boots No7 blue eyeshadow, a light brush of her Max Factor mascara wand, and finally applying her favourite Revlon Cherries in the Snow lipstick, she looked quite respectable. There was even a glimmer of what had once been a very fine young woman.

She was really ready for a celebratory drink and maybe she might just tell the girls about her ordeal, now that it was nearly over.

Edna, Olivia and Viola met up in the foyer of La Maison and were shown to their table, which was gleaming with its polished silver and sparkling glasses. The napkins were so stiff, you could have wrapped a gift in them. Coming towards them was a tall, thin man, a sickly smile on his face. He pulled out Edna’s chair and placed the napkin on her lap with a great flourish. Olivia and Viola seated themselves.

‘Bonsoir, Mesdames. Could I offer you some water? Steel or sparkleeng?’

‘Water is for gardens,’ Edna retorted. ‘I will have a vodka martini straight up with a twist.’

Olivia and Viola exchanged glances that suggested they were resigning themselves to the fact that this was going to be a stormy night.

‘Alors. Desole, Mesdames. I ‘ave to tell you zat ce soir we ‘ave no tete du cochon,’ said the little man. Olivia and Viola stifled a giggle and whispered conspiratorially that this obnoxious little man probably came from the Old Kent Road, and the nearest he had ever been to France was a packet of Bonne Maman madeleines from Sainsbury’s.

Edna, having no time for this man, announced, ‘I’ll have the lamb chops.’

‘Mais, madame, we don’t ‘ave any.’

Edna rolled her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Lamb chops are not on our menu,’ said the man sniffily. He now had a look of utter determination, as if he wished these people to be fed and dispatched as quickly as possible. It was clear that Edna was not his usual clientele at all.

‘Well, everyone has lamb chops on their menu,’ said Edna indignantly.

‘Well, I am afraid zat we don’t.’

Edna, at her most difficult, snarled, ‘So what chops do you have?’

Viola coaxed Edna into ordering the duck and they settled down to enjoy their aperitif.

‘Mmm.’ Olivia purred like a cat having seen an unattended bowl of cream sitting two tables away. Edna could see that her daughter was positively drooling over her next target!

‘All that money and good looks too.’ Her eyes were sparkling like the newly polished diamond she was already imagining sitting upon the slim, elegant third finger of her left hand. Her voice betrayed that edge of excitement. The kind a person must feel whilst waiting for the last number in the lottery. She would never be described as beautiful, but she had that fascinating, slightly exotic look that made one want to stare for just a moment too long. Judging from the excitement in her whole demeanour, Edna could almost see Olivia’s body trembling at the thought of bagging her latest target.

‘Calm down, Ollie, he’s going out with Susie Davis,’ Viola snapped at her. Edna was half amused and half shocked at her daughter’s revelation of her blatant aspiration to hook a wealthy man.

‘Haven’t you ever heard that it ain’t over until the fat lady sings?’ Olivia giggled into her martini and then laughed so uncontrollably that she spilt some down her beautiful olive-green dress. It was a deliciously lustrous silk, artfully draped around her shoulders, complemented by a beautiful gold choker set with coloured stones encircling her swanlike neck, so carefully chosen to enhance her dress.

‘I heard that he works out at the So Alive gym. It’s invitation only, but I am sure that Jenny would put my name forward.’

‘You’ll have to calm down before you ask her. She would never be part of your crazy plot.’

Edna could see that Viola was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation and the discovery of who her sister really was. Needless to say, Edna was even more shocked to see her spoilt daughter, totally oblivious to their opinions, dabbing at her dress, clearly making it worse, whilst scowling petulantly at her sister.

‘If you want to spend the rest of your life going to work and shopping in Zara, you go ahead, but I have more lofty ambitions for my future, which do not include saving up for our annual blowout, whilst my ex takes his new wife to The River Café for Sunday lunches. That used to be my life, and I’m going to have it again!’

Turning back to Edna, the girls tried unsuccessfully to discuss their mother’s hatred toward her aunt and uncle. Playing with her bread roll, Viola started the conversation.

‘So, Mother, why have you never been close to Aunt Betty and Uncle Harold? I just don’t understand why you dislike them so.’

‘Yes, Mother,’ Olivia joined in. ‘If we knew why, we could better understand and help you.’ Edna felt her body contract.

‘What have I always told you about privacy? I have always respected yours. How many more times must I tell you that I don’t want to know when you are kissing, and I don’t want to know when you are making up, and I would like you to afford me the same courtesy. So, for the very last time, I want to make it clear that the subject is closed.’ And that was that.

Edna was struggling to hold it together, but all she could think about was the letter. The letter that had shattered her to the very core.