Blessed Event.

by sloanranger

Part I

Two ladies stood just inside the Pub, dust motes floating in the smoky afternoon sunlight from their stance by the open door. They surveyed the room with some hesitation.

Willy Arnold, proud proprietor of The King's Codpiece of Manchester, England, looked up from his mug washing. One lady was tall and brown haired and rather angular. She was dressed in a brown tweed jacket with skirt. Her blouse was beige silk and she carried an umbrella. The other woman was a little shorter and heavier, her hair graying. She had a floral print dress on and a softer look about her.

Willy noticed their hesitation and came round the bar ostentatiously wiping his hands on the towel, saying: "Can I be of help, Misses?"

The taller of the ladies wore a slight expression of disdain. "We are looking for a young woman."

At the questioning smile of the proprietor, Verna continued: "A Miss Agnes Mae...what is her surname, Viola?"

"Brown, dear." Viola answered, "Agnes Mae Brown."

"Aggie?" Recognition dawned in the eyes of the proprietor. "Oh," he said, "you're the misses 'wot the Vicar bespoke. I remember now. You was at Ernie's service, rest his soul."

"That's right, Mr. Arnold. You recall correctly. The Vicar did speak with us."

"I do, Misses, 'deed I do. A sad time it were and what with Aggie carrying on, got us all feeling kind of weary that day."

"Mr. Arnold, do you know where we might find Miss Brown?"

"I do, Misses. 'Less something's awry she'll be coming through that door anytime, now. Stops every day at the 'Codpiece, she does; has her tea and stays an hour or two, sometimes quite late after."

"Well, when she arrives would you tell her we would like to speak with her?"

"I will that," he said, throwing the towel over his shoulder.

"Do come in, ladies," he said, "come right on in. You can wait in the Snug."

"The Snug?"

"Yes, we calls it the 'Snug,' he informed them as he led them across the tavern to a smaller room adjacent to the main bar. "It being kind of private-like for the ladies, away from the gents and all."

There were three small tables in the room the proprietor brought them to, and Willy directed them to the best, situated in the corner by the only window. He pulled a chair out for Verna, then Viola. "Can I be bringing you ladies a pint, now, is it?"

The other woman, younger and a sister from the look of her, managed a small smile but there was no mistaking the look of the taller one.

"No, no," Willy shifted, "course, not – a nice cuppa.' We always keep the kettle on for a nice cup a' tea."

Verna said nothing but hooked her umbrella over an empty chair back in acquiescence.

Willy noted their dress and bearing; he took notice of all well-dressed ladies of a certain age. A widower - his own dear, Mary Rose, gone now these past three years.

The Pub owner did not like being alone and he missed his wife. He wasn't a complicated man, wanting only for someone to be there at closing time with his own cuppa'. And a currant scone now and then, he thought to himself as he went for the ladies' tea.

"I never thought I'd see the day I'd visit one of these establishments," Verna said.

"Well, dear, it's the only way we have of contacting her - Agnes, I mean. Besides," Vi added, "we've been in a Public House before. Don't you recall?"

"I certainly do not," her sister bristled. "And when, may I ask, have you, Viola Gibbs?"

"Oh Vern, don't you recall when Father and Grand Dad took us? It was when they paraded Edward through town before he became King? And afterward they brought us here for tea and scones while they drank the Prince's health?

Verna looked stolidly for a moment. Then: "You know, Vi, I believe you're right. I'd quite forgotten."

"I know I'm right, dear; I remember the scones were quite fresh. Papa remarked on it."

"Yes, I recall now. We sat outside on a sort of smallish terrace or something. When was that, I wonder?" Vern went on.

"Well, let's see. I was just under eleven years, so you must have been thirteen. That would put it at '84. How old are you now, dear?"

"You know perfectly well how old I am, Viola Gibbs. I'm sixty-five, two years older than you."

"Well then, 1884 it was."

Her older sister thought a moment. "Yes, I believe you are correct." Verna stared at her sister who flushed beneath the unusual status of being right for a change. Normally, it was Verna, the eldest, who made such pronouncements and who unfailingly won all disputes between the two of them. Until now.

Willy entered just then carrying a tray with the tea things and a basket with 4 small scones. "There there, ladies," he said, depositing the tray on the table.

"It being close onto tea time, the scones are on the house. They are fresh, though not near in the same class as when my Mary was alive." He placed a small jug of milk and a sugar bowl with the cups and saucers. "'Ave to order 'em in these days, we do."

"And you'll tell us, Mr. Arnold, "When Miss Brown comes in?" Viola said.

"I will that. She usually sits here in the 'Snug,' herself - leastways, early in the evening. Sometimes she makes her way out to the main room if she stays long. Regulars don't mind, but 'infrequents' don't much care fer' it - a woman in the saloon, as it were. But our Aggie's kind of a law unto herself, if you know what I mean, Misses."

Verna made throat clearing noises while Viola busied herself pouring the tea. "Yes, of course, Mr, Arnold, "if you would just direct her to our table?"

"I will do, Misses," he said. Then, "Well, lookee there – here she be coming now, through the front door." The proprietor took off and ushered the newcomer into the 'Snug' straightaway.

Agnes was a woman of medium height and rather large boned. Her brown, nondescript hair had been clipped to her jaw line, as was the fashion these days. She had a square forehead and she wore red lipstick and a blue, cotton, calf-length dress. The dress had black buttons running down the entire front – blouse and skirt. The dress must have come with a thin belt because there were empty belt loops at what would have been her now-thickening waist. Her eyes were large, brown and quite beautiful. More, and carefully done make-up, would have given her a resemblance to the American actress, Joan Crawford.

"Sit ye' down, Aggie. These ladies have been asking for you," said Willy.

"Good afternoon, Miss Brown. I'm Verna Gibbs and this is my sister, Viola," the eldest sister said. "We met you at the service for Mr. Sibley?"

Agnes gave a slight nod and seated herself.

(To be continued).

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