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Harvesting life stories for you to cherish |
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The Foxy LadiesMelanie turned the wedding invitation over in her fingers. Susannah, her adored niece was marrying her childhood sweetheart, Donald, in the Victoria St. Registry Office followed by a reception at Prestonfield House on the 24th July. Susie’s wedding! “My wonderful girl”, Melanie mused and started to imagine what the day would be like: waiting for Susie to arrive, knowing how beautiful she’d look in the exquisite wedding dress she’d made for her, listening, hardly able to breathe with emotion, (Don’t you cry, Auntie Mel”, Susie had warned) while she took her vows, then… then… yet again allowing herself to be completely overshadowed, out staged, out everythinged by her twin, Joy. “Well no. Not this time, Joy. Not at Susie’s wedding. Somehow or other you have to be… kept out of the picture. I don’t know how I’ll do it but do it I will.” And with this thought uppermost in her mind, Melanie placed the invitation carefully on the mantelpiece in her sitting room. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Joy: she did, very much but although they were identical twins, she and Joy couldn’t have been more different in personality. Their mother always used to tell anyone who’d listen that they might look alike but somehow and, yes, unfairly, Joyce seemed to have been given Mel’s share of personality, happiness, optimism, call it what you like. Joy, because that suited her character perfectly, was always the life and soul of any party whereas Mel was the quiet girl in the corner, shy, introverted, the one who found social chit chat cripplingly painful and embarrassing. The consequence of this, of course, was that Joy sailed through life but Mel was a tortured spirit. Melanie remembered their 5th birthday party. It took weeks to prepare. Joy had lots of friends, who bubbled over with excitement when she handed out the invitations but Mel only had one friend, Josie, who was as quiet as she was. It was Mel who stayed at home with Mum to bake the cake while Joy was on a “sleep over” with her gang. Both girls helped Mum to prepare the goody bags, and make decorations for the house but it seemed to Mel that Joy’s decorations were much, much prettier than hers. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t true. They weren’t perfect. They weren’t good enough. They weren’t as good as Joy’s. So Mel sat down and cried. Joy fussed over her until, with a sniff of resignation, Mel handed her contributions to their mum who pinned them up beaming and smiling at them, telling them both what clever girls they were and what a wonderful party they were going to have. Mel could spot her “poor” decorations a mile off and wondered, not for the first time, why her sister and parents couldn’t just tell her openly that she just wasn’t good enough: not compared to Joy anyway. Their mum took them shopping for party dresses and because Joy looked so cute in a pink, floaty dress with a headband covered in tiny rosebuds that’s what they bought. Mel felt very self-conscious in her outfit but since Joy looked marvellous and she was her identical twin, she had to convince herself that she must look as good as Joy but the mirror confirmed that she just couldn’t carry it off. She looked as awkward as she felt. Joy skipped into their room and took her by the hand, just as the first guest arrived. “Come on, Melly! Let’s see who it is.” But, unaccustomed to the lovely silver party shoes she was wearing, Mel slipped, fell, and bit her lip which bled all over her beautiful party dress. Screaming, Auntie Louise took her into the bathroom, calmed her down, dabbed her lip and kissed her better. Once she’d got over the shuddering sobs, Mel looked at the disaster her party dress had become and knew she wouldn’t be wearing it to the party: no matter how carefully Auntie Lou tried to clean it, it didn’t respond so back into the bedroom they went and, with a sigh of relief, Mel slipped into to her jeans and t-shirt. She felt that outfit was more appropriate for her anyway. Her mouth was so sore that she couldn’t eat any of the delicious and tempting party food, so she and Josie went into the bedroom – and read, hearing the whoops of fun coming from the rest of the house and feeling very happy that they were taking no part in it. That night Joy came into her bed cuddled her. “Never mind the silly party. Once your mouth’s better we’ll have a party all by ourselves. Just you and me and Dougie” (their elder brother by four years and a bit of a personality himself). And as always, when Joy soothed her troubles, Mel slipped into a cocoon of warmth and bliss. At school, although Mel was quieter than Joy, she held her own academically. They were both good at language subjects, like English, French, Spanish and History but because she wasn’t co-ordinated particularly well, Mel didn’t excel at physical education. Joy did and played in the hockey and tennis teams, took part in athletics and was generally a good all rounder, as Dougie was. Mel was a talented dressmaker who made outfits for them both and loved doing so. She was really good at something Joy was hopeless at and they spent many hours together choosing patterns, adapting them, then Mel would lock herself in their bedroom to “create” and like a magician would appear a few hours later with the shell of a garment ready to be tried on and fitted. Mel was at her best on these occasions: in command. “Stand still or you’ll get jabbed.” A snip here a tuck there, and lo and behold that season’s party outfit! By this time they went to great efforts to wear different clothes to express their different personalities: Joy always chose vibrant reds, shocking pinks, stripes and polka dots, while Mel preferred the simplicity of black. Joy chose daring, trendy styles a bit like Vivienne Westwood’s but Jean Muir was Mel’s role model, so it was simple black tube dresses, bobbed hair and bright red lipstick. Mel went to Edinburgh Art College to study fashion design while Joy read law at Edinburgh. They moved out of their parents’ rather comfortable home in West Linton and shared a flat in Warrendar Park Road. You see, different though they were, they both knew that they were two parts of a whole and weren’t ready to live apart. Boyfriends came and went. Joy’s were a bit gung-ho and when they visited the flat or met Mel for the first time could hardly believe that two sisters, let alone twins, could be so different. They liked her but found her a bit “arty” and heavy going. Mel’s guys were introverted and serious about life, enjoyed deep discussions about the plays they went to at The Traverse and shied away from Joy’s friends. Yet life rolled along happily for both girls. Joy and Mel: Mel and Joy, depending whose friends were visiting, may have seemed an “odd couple” but they faced the world together. Much to the family’s surprise, Dougie, their sporty, hare-brained brother, after trying careers in retail and banking – he was so irresponsible – decided to become a chef and off he went to Paris to study with Anton Blanc. On his return, still flippant and gregarious, he opened a restaurant in Stockbridge specialising in “real” Scotttish food with a Latin flavour, with a fellow Scot, Hector Thomson whom he’d met in Paris. They called their restaurant “The Lads’ Kitchen”. For Joy and Hector it was as near as dammit to love at first sight. They met, the chemistry crackled – and they were married, very quietly in the same registry office that Susie would be all these years later. Joy graduated and got a job with Drummond and Co. in Moray Place, bought a basement flat in Dundas St. and proceeded to live a busy, disorganised but gloriously happy life. Mel was a worrier. Not for her rushing into married life but she kept bumping into an exuberant, extrovert young architect called Robin Taylor-Smith who wouldn’t let her go. He phoned, he popped in to see her “in the passing”, he turned up at parties thrown by mutual friends: he wanted into her life. But Mel couldn’t believe that someone as lively and popular as Robin could be interested in her. Friends told her, he told her, Joy told her and eventually, despite her misgivings and fears that he’d tire of her quickly and she’d end up with a broken heart, she succumbed to his charms. You’d think that his love would have bolstered her confidence but it didn’t: far from it. Every pretty girl who spoke to him was a threat. “Surely he prefers her to mousy little me”, she’d torture herself. He didn’t but he had to reassure her constantly. Also he was extremely ambitious for her because he believed in her talent. Consequently, thanks largely to his efforts, she started in business making wedding dresses and other bridal wear. At first most of her customers were friends or friends of friends. As wedding albums were passed around, and videos watched, brides-to-be admired the flattering lines of the dresses and how meticulously they’d been made. Works of art most of them thought. Robin persuaded her to take on an apprentice and rent a shop and she was thrilled when one came up for rent in Stockbridge near her brother’s restaurant. She needed to know that if anything went wrong she could just nip off to see Dougie for advice. Nothing did go wrong, of course, and after a few years she’d taken on two more assistants and acquired a reputation as a perfectionist: good for customers but not so good for her employees. She wouldn’t marry Robin because of her insecurities and Robin went along with this rather well. Why shouldn’t he? He had a glamorous girlfriend (she was stick thin, nervy and elegant) who doted on him, even if that meant being a little clingy, well off because by this time her business was very prosperous and she’d never moved out of the flat in Warrendar Park Road and she was content with her single status. He had it all. Joy had 3 little boys, Archie, Sandy and Hector jnr. Her flat in Dundas St. had become too cramped for her brood so they decamped to a big, rambling house in Haddington where the boys and their pets, Frostie, the cat, Bonnie and Clyde, their two exuberant golden labs, could run wild – and they did. Joy’s house was always untidy, always busy. How she managed to work from home, Mel just didn’t know. She couldn’t have created in that rodeo of a house for anything. Dougie married Cassie and after years of disappointments, they eventually produced Susannah who became Mel’s pride and joy. She made her baby clothes, her ballet outfits, kept her wardrobe up to date with the latest trends, took her everywhere a little girl should go: the theatre, the ballet, Chambers St. Museum, The Children’s Museum. Because Cassie was the manageress of the restaurant, she was glad that Mel and Susie spent so much time together and Susie was everything Mel wanted in the way of children: all the fun and none of the responsibility. Hector looked after the kids one night a week and this allowed Joy some “me” time. Together with the mums of some of the boys’ friends, they formed a book club. Naturally, Joy roped Mel in to enjoy the fun. It wasn’t fun for Mel at first, of course, but after a time she discovered that the other members – The pattern of the evenings was: arrive, plonk contribution in the kitchen then sit around swigging wine and eating nibbles for about half an hour or so discussing the chosen book before tucking into the food and getting down to the very enjoyable business of gossiping, yet somehow or other the book was always fully chewed over. It wasn’t an intellectual exercise, so even Mel felt comfortable about offering her opinions. It was, however, surprisingly stimulating and, on many occasions, thought provoking. One memorable book was “Buddha Da” which described the effect that one painter and decorator’s decision to give a new meaning to life by becoming a Buddhist had on his marriage. They discussed how hilarious the Scots’ dialect was and how, despite this, poignancy of the story had brought tears to eyes. Each person in the group took a turn to choose a book and what emerged, not really to their surprise, was that they all enjoyed clever, gruesome murders. Women are bloodthirsty creatures, they all agreed. “Why not,” suggested Angela, “since we all enjoy reading about grisly murders, slightly alter our evenings for a while and come up with ideas for ‘the perfect murder’?” And that’s what they did. At first they brought bright ideas from books, TV and films but Ange said, “Come on, girls, do a bit of research and come up with your own ideas”. This proved to be highly entertaining and, as far as Mel was concerned, an excellent way of winding down at the end of the day. So did everyone else. They discovered the deadly ingredients in some of the flowers and plants in the garden. “Did you know,” demanded Trish at one meeting, “that if you used rhododendron wood to make barbeque skewers and the sap got on to the meat, there would be enough to kill a child and reduce adults to wrecks for days?” The girls gasped in surprise. “Well, I didn’t know that”, Wendy said, “But who would want to make barbeque sticks out of a rhododendron bush when they’re two a penny in the supermarket?” “Well, me, for a start”, replied Trish then went on to describe the barbeque she’d prepare for her husband’s “boss from Hell” and get him out of the way while her husband stepped into his shoes, and showed how efficiently he could run the office, so that when the old swine got back from sick leave, he’d be side tracked to another position in the company. Trish got full marks for her suggestion as the group agreed that it would work because once the skewers had been burned in the fire at the end of the party, the murder weapon would be undetectable and Trish would get off with it. It was even more fun than the book club so they decided to give themselves an appropriate name. After lots of titles had been rejected, Joy suggested “The Foxy Ladies”, not only because they were “foxy” but because foxgloves are one of the most poisonous plants in the gardens and, after all, they were a “poisoners’ club” now. It was decided to whoops of laughter. “The Foxy Ladies” they would be from then on. Joy’s idea was brilliant. She imagined what Cassie might do if Dougie had an affair with one of his customers. Hector nurtured delphiniums in their garden. For some reason, not a million miles away from the A. A. Milne poetry he’d loved as a very little boy, the tall, blue flowers fascinated him. Well, Cassie would know this and clip off a petal or two then invite her rival to afternoon tea in the restaurant. She’d prepare chocolate violet cakes which have crystalized violets on top but in the one she’d specially prepare for “The Rival”, she’d crystalize the snaffled delphinium petals. That’s all it would need. She’d read on the internet that, “an innocent nibble can have devastating, sometimes fatal, effect”. “Have one of these chocolate violets”, she’d say sweetly. “I made them specially for you.” It wouldn’t be a lie, would it? She’d watch it slip down the bitch’s throat then wait, gleefully, for the poison to take effect. By the time she got to hospital and they’d diagnosed some sort of food poisoning, it would be too late to administer an antidote – even assuming they had the right one! What fun they all had, imagining different “poisoning” scenarios then searching the internet for just the right one to “erase” their victims. They became quite skilled at identifying weak points in the case notes and pointing out how swiftly a pathologist might be able to point an accusing finger at the murderess. So it was with a considerable knowledge of poisons and forensic pathology that Mel pondered how to keep Joy from attending Susie’s wedding. She wouldn’t actually poison her, of course – well not fatally, anyway, but maybe just enough to make her a teensy weensy bit too queasy to face it. From Mel’s point of view she’d lived in Joy’s shadow all her life, without complaint: never a sulk, never a jealous tantrum. She’d put up with so called humorous remarks like, “Two Joys in one family would have been too much. One of you needed to be… quiet”. Quiet/mousy/nondescript: she understood the pause to choose a synonym for “waste of time and space”. So really, her time had come: her time to shine and the only way she could do this was if Joy wasn’t there. The vomiting and diahorrea she might suffer would be very short lived. Mel’s suffering had lasted all her life. No, she needed to do it. When she thought of her sister throwing up in the toilet or lying miserably in bed while everyone else was off enjoying themselves, she did suffer a pang of conscience. Joy didn’t have a mean bone in her body, indeed had spent her life cosseting her twin and trying to bolster her confidence. Yes, Mel knew that and had always appreciated it but still… just this once she wanted to shine and not be compared unfavourably to Joy. But how? She searched the internet, checked books in the library, racked her brains but all the poisons she unearthed were far too dangerous. She wanted to discomfort Joy, not kill her. Then – inspiration! No need to indulge in devious, risky potions when a much simpler yet effective means was available in Tesco’s: prawns. Anyone who’s eaten slightly off prawns can testify to how incapacitating they can be. Yes! Perhaps a prawn curry or a chilli… As it happened, Fate played into her hands because there was to be meeting of “The Foxy Ladies” the Thursday evening before the wedding. Mel decided that her contribution would be vol-au-vents with a kind of Mexican prawn stuffing. She’d doctor Joy’s one perhaps with a strategically placed piece of parsley or easily identified decoration of chilli, or something, make sure she got to the table first and filled Joy’s plate before anyone else could pick up the one made for her. They regularly filled each other’s plates so it wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. Mel came home early from work that Thursday to make the food. She’d taken the precaution of buying prawns the week before and leaving them to get past their sell by date. These were the prawns destined for Joy’s pastry. Everyone else would get the prawns she’d bought on the way home. As Mel prepared the Mexican Prawn mixture guilt almost overwhelmed her but then she remembered the elegant outfit she’d made for the wedding and how much she was looking forward to basking in unaccustomed praise when fellow guests oohed and aahed over the gorgeous dresses she’d made for Susie, Rachel and Tracy, the bridesmaids, little Georgie the flower girl and the Little Lord Fontleroy outfit for Calum the page boy. “I just want what’s rightfully mine,” she told herself over and over. That night’s meeting was to be held at Wendy’s house because she was celebrating her 50th birthday so everyone was excited. Her husband Iain had a surprise for them all. He’d bought 6 bottles of champagne for “The Foxies” to drink that night and he smiled as he left for the pub, saying, “Enjoy. You’re Worth It, as they say in all the best ads”. The champagne was delicious , and, as it does, made everyone giggly and chatty. They sang “Happy Birthday”, sort of discussed the latest murder – death by Lobelia seeds sprinkled over home baked bread - ate the nibbles and before Mel noticed time passing the food was laid out. “Ooh”, she thought, tipsily, “I’d better get up and fill Joy’s plate”. Meanwhile Joy was sitting in the conservatory, engrossed in conversation with Vicky. Just then the birthday girl, Wendy, and Angie, started passing round filled plates. This wasn’t the norm but Wendy wanted everyone to eat up quickly so that she could cut her birthday cake and blow out the candles. “Stymied”, thought Mel. The champagne had gone to everyone’s head by this time, including Mel’s and she giggled to herself, “Oh well. It wasn’t a very charitable idea anyhow. Someone’s going to have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow but it won’t be Joy. How could I even have contemplated hurting her?”, and began emptying her plate. Mel had marked “Joy’s” vol-au-vent with a spiral piece of lemon peel whereas the others had a thin slice on top. “Subtle but enough to be easily spotted”, she’d congratulated herself at the time. What she didn’t know was that the third glass of champers had made both Wendy and Angie a little clumsier than usual and they’d knocked the lemon off most of the pastries. They announced their “crime” to hoots of laughter from everyone except Mel, who had just popped a piece of vol-au-vent into her mouth. Mel choked and a piece of prawn slipped into her windpipe. She gasped and struggled for breath and pretty quickly, the girls realised what was happening. Joy rushed over and slapped Mel hard between the shoulder blades but couldn’t dislodge the prawn. By this time Mel’s eyes were streaming, she was becoming purple in the face and she was clearly in trouble. Shocked, Wendy dialled 999 while Vickie, who’d been on medical training courses in her line of work, wrapped both arms around her and pumped her up and down. It didn’t work. Mel was weakening and still gasping for air when the paramedics arrived. One of them carried out an emergency tracheotomy to allow her to breathe again, hurried her into the ambulance accompanied by a distraught Joy and they screamed into the night. All through that seemingly endless journey the nurse did everything she could to save Mel’s life but it was hopeless. She was dead on arrival at the hospital. Copyright Lovina Roe. Contact Lovina@yourstory-biographies.co.uk or telephone 07721777243 |
Stories for Adults
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| Contact: Lovina@yourstory-biographies.co.uk |