Blessed Event - Part 3

by sloanranger

The morning sunlight came through the kitchen window and played on a tablecloth of gaily strewn flowers. Verna sat down as Viola poured their breakfast tea into posey painted cups - a veritable garden on their kitchen table. The girls had a real garden outside of course and they did love it – but it was Viola whose heart was into tending it.

They made contented housemates, the two sisters, their routine made easy by long familiarity. If one judged by the amount of gray in their respective heads - one would have thought Viola the eldest instead of Verna, who antiquated her by almost two years. Viola, the youngest, had put on a few pounds over the years, softening her aspect considerably. But Verna was still as ramrod straight – and thin - as when a young girl.

"Has she come down, yet?" Verna asked.

"Yes, dear - I think she has done," Viola looked over her shoulder and sighed at the few unwashed dishes and the bread crumbs on the kitchen counter. "It looks as though she made herself tea."

"Well, where is she, then?" Verna continued.

"I believe she returned to her room, Dear."

Thinking it would be far too hard on the sensibilities of his fiancée to occupy the same downstairs bedroom that Ernest had done, the sisters had fixed one of the two upstairs rooms for her. "Is she unwell?" Vern continued.

Vi looked all at sixes and sevens, fidgeting with her apron. "I'm sure I don't know, Verna. I've heard nothing from her room since I came down. But...," she gave a nod towards Ernest's old room.

As if on cue, there came noise from the bedroom - the room formerly occupied by Ernest Sibbley, handyman and mechanic - now deceased. Doors slammed, drawers opened and closed loudly and other sounds not discerned by the two ladies went on for a few moments and ended with the door being thrown widely open. Agnes, arms akimbo and standing in a severe stance, looked at each of the women. "Well?"

"Well, what dear?" Viola said, trying to be helpful.

"Where is it?" Agnes exclaimed.

"Where is what, Miss Brown?" Verna replied.

"Me engagement ring."

The sisters looked slowly at one another then back at Agnes.

"I beg your pardon?" Verna replied brusquely.

Viola was softer, "Your engagement ring, dear?"

"Yes, me ring 'wot Ernie got me. A real garnet 'e said it was. It was 'is Mum's. His Aunt Pat said she didn't know nuffin' about no ring and it wadn't in the suitcase, so's I figured it'd still be 'ere, in 'is room."

"Neither Viola nor I came across it, dear, I assure you," Verna said. Vi, wide-eyed, slowly shook her head to confirm her sister's statement.

It seemed unlikely to Agnes that either of the ladies would lie and both her lovely brown eyes filled with tears and began streaming down her strong features. Verna stood and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, hoping against a replay of the tearful demonstration at the Pub.

Viola had a thought: "Perhaps Ernest hid it somewhere around the house, dear. There was a rash of burglaries around the neighborhood...before...before.... Well never you mind, we'll just have a look." she said cheerfully – completely forgetting for the moment it was Ernest who had done the burgling.

"Hmm," Vern cleared her throat and agreed. "Yes, well, Vi dear, we'll have a good look." Forcing a smile she patted Agnes on her arm. "Now dry those tears and let's have some breakfast shall we?"

"Had me tea and toast this morning," the younger woman sniffed.

"That's no breakfast for a woman in your uh...status." She smiled, "Viola, you clear that mess up in the sink," she said and began taking food from the icebox, "while I prepare the eggs."

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When Aggie yawned after her breakfast, Verna sent her upstairs to rest. "You just take yourself up and have a nice lie-down, Agnes. Go on, up you go." 

(To be continued).

692017sloanranger