Miss Fanny Munro stopped by for tea late Friday afternoon. It was near 5 pm and the sky was getting dark, so the lights in the house were already on. I was running around the kitchen, unsure whether to put parmigiana cheese in the pasta sauce or import white cheese. It may not sound like a serious issue, but when you're a clumse in the kitchen, like I am, those things really start to matter. Especially having in mind that Michael's great at cooking... almost anything. Guess his mama raised him well. Sigh. Mine thought me to make vodka-tonic & Bloody Mary with eggs and bacon. Not that she was a drunk, mind you... She just never saw fit to "waste time" in the kitchen. She was an eccentric, a free spirit... A hippy back in her day.
***
My mum had aspirations to become a renowned actress, or cabaret-type singer, like Edith Piaf, or a painter, in the vain of Salvador Dali, or... or... Yes, she did try everything. One month you could see her portrait Ophelia in yet another modern rendition of Shakespeare's "Hamlet", the next she'd be singing "La vie en rose" in a smoky cabaret-style bar, where no one was interested in her voice or her French, but was staring in her legs and short dress, and then she'd be attending an exhibition of modern art, trying to sell her extravagant paintings to an agent. She apprenticed to a sculptor, fought for animals' rights, learned French, and Spanish, and Italian, travelled to Paris and lived in Rome for a couple of years, was even a pretend-psychic, reading Tarot cards, for a scoundrel of the name of Billy Joe Lacey. She never quite settled down, even after I was born. I remember us moving a lot, changing living accommodations, cities... Sometimes my mum makes me think of the heroine in Joanne Harris' novel "The Lollipop Shoes". She never told me who my father was, only that she met him on a clear August night, when the moon was high and full, and the stars were as bright as diamonds sprinkled on the black-velvet sky. He swept her off her feet, with tales of love, and travel, and a life of adventure, only to leave her when he realised she was with child. Or sometimes, she told another version of the story, where she left him and never looked back. I never knew which one was true and which - fabrication. My mum was notorious for her imagination and love for drama and exaggeration...
I was 8, when she married my step-father Charlie. He was the kindest soul that ever walked the Earth and worshipped her as though she was a princess, or a Goddess come down from the Heavens to bring light into his otherwise dull life. And he treated me as his own, loving and caring for me even in those first couple of years of their marriage, when I hated him with a passion. Or so I thought, anyway. At that time, I though he was stealing my mother away from me... Can you blame me? I was a little girl, who'd never known the affection of a father. But have met one too many of mum's "special friends". Special, my... But let's keep the tone civil. If nothing else, my mother thought me proper manners.
Charlie put me through University, where I got a degree in Journalism, which I've never really used. By the time I was graduating, me and Michael were already together, and he wanted me to marry him. I said "yes" and... Well, you know where I am right now.
***
Those thoughts ran through my head, as I battled with the pasta and tried to boil tea for the o so inpatient miss Munro in my living room. I checked the watch on my wrist, just to make sure that Carter and Monica weren't due to come in another couple of hours, and then joined my unexpected guest on the couch.
Miss Munro stood with her back straight and her chin lifted up high, sipping tea as though we were in the Queen's private chambers and not in my living room. She wore an austere gray dress, that would have put any of the Bronte sisters' characters to shame, with a brooch and a silk scarf in flowing blue colors. Her hair was carefully arranged, her make up - light, but elegant. She was the equivalent of a High-society lady, and she well knew it. I noticed that she'd started wearing her engagement ring, which suited her perfectly with its small blue gem. I felt clumsy and inadequate next to Miss Munro, and it made me cranky. Which probably showed on my face, because Fanny let out a soft sigh and narrowed her eyes. Right back at you, sister! If we were going to glare at each-other, then she was in for a surprise!
I do Glaring professionally. Just ask my husband about it.
"You seem busy, Mrs. Halliwell" Fanny said in a tone that could freeze the Atlantic. Or Hell, if the chance came. "I do not wish to intrude..."
"We're expecting guests", I confirmed, then sipped my tea, before adding. "But they're not due a couple of hours more, so it's OK".
"And your husband?"
"At work."
"Your cat?"
"Upstairs, as I know how you dislike cats". I let out a sigh and asked the inevitable question. "What is this about, Miss Munro?"
"You're a blunt woman."
"And you're way too polite for comfort!"
Fanny narrowed her eyes a bit more and put her cup and saucer on the table. Her chin went higher, if that was possible.
"I get the impression you do not like me, Mrs. Halliwell."
"What goes around, comes around, Miss Munro."
"Fair enough" Fanny agreed after a moment's hesitation, then took back her cup of tea and had a small sip, before adding. "I have a proposition for you, Mrs. Halliwell. You may need to consider it for a day or two, and have a chat about it with your husband."
"I'm not following..."
"Let me finish", Fanny smiled and sipped her tea. "All will be clear in a couple of minutes."
She wasn't kidding. By the time she left, I was wondering if the woman wasn't out of her mind. After the proposition, I'd asked her: "Why me?" and she'd just smiled, shrugged that delicate shrug that only someone with French heritage could pull off, and said:
"I have a good feeling about you."
So, Miss Munro was gone and it was almost 6:00, which meant Michael was running late from work, and Carter and Monica were going to be here in an hour or so. I had so many more things to do, before they arrived...
I ended up postponing most of them and took my time getting dressed and having a bath. Michael came back at quarter to 7, bringing flowers as an excuse for being so late (Ah, isn't he the romantic?) and I promised to "punish" him later tonight... He just laughed and kissed me, which always made me stop teasing and "get serious". Well, not as "serious" as I'd like to be, as Michael still needed to have a shower, and I - to finish dressing up. Just because it's a house dinner, and it's probably going to be very dramatic, didn't mean I don't have to look at my best, right?
Yes, I know that Vanity is a sin. Sue me.
At 5 past 7 the doorbell rang and I rushed down the stairs to open the door. Michael was right behind me, his hair still wet from the shower, his shirt fitting a little too tight around his broad shoulders. Carter and Monica stood at the door... Caring a bottle of expensive French wine and grinning like idiots. Especially Carter. His smile was so broad, that it almost split his face in half.
"We're gonna' have a baby", he said and his eyes beamed with such happiness that I almost thought I'm going to cry. "I'm gonna' be a daddy!"
I laughed and hugged them both, Monica first and then Carter, and jokingly winked at Monica.
"He seems to be taking the news far better than expected..."
"You'be got no idea!" she laughed and poked Carter in the ribs, making him wince and giggle. "He's been so happy and lovey-dovey, that I almost wanted to strangle him on a couple of occasions!" We all laughed, then Monica asked, her eyebrow raised. "Will you let us in, or are we to have dinner right here?"
We let them in and the dinner went till way past midnight, and Carter, me and Michael drank the wine, with only a little help from Monica, who was pouting about it, and they told us that Carter's taken a few days off work and was taking Monica "somewhere romantic".
"I was thinking France, or Spain, or... I don't know! Brazil!" Carter explained and we all laughed. He added he'd made a couple of cheap international calls, which Michael duly noted (the miser!), and said they'd be leaving at the end of the week. "I got a promotion", Carter's grin was intoxicating. "Apparently, my boss felt like I could use the extra cash!"
O, my. Sometime the Universe does work in our favour, doesn't she? I smiled and looked at Michael for a moment. Then said:
"I have an announcement to make as well..."
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