Hughie`s Last Party

HUGHIE`S LAST PARTY
I huddled closer to the fire, the plate I`d filled from the buffet
table, balanced on my knee. My eyes pricked and I felt sort of empty
inside. I knew I`d not be able to eat a morsel. My throat would close
up, if I made any attempt. I only hoped I wouldn`t break down and make
a fool of myself in front of everyone.

"What a day, the poor old chap`ll freeze in his box."
I flinched. "Really, Jean! You shouldn`t speak about Hughie like that,
it`s disrespectful." I noticed that Jean, tucking into a ham roll, was
looking somewhat raddled these days. Bet that brassy beehive, stiff
with lacquer`s, dyed. How I used to envy her lovely golden waves when
we were at school together. It used to reach right past her waist,
whereas my dead straight, dark brown hair, although thick, would never
grow any longer than my shoulders.

Despite my distress over Hughie, I eyed my reflection in the television
with satisfaction. Unlike Jean, my hair was unchanged, apart from the
odd grey one if studied closely.

She chewed and swallowed with lip-smacking enjoyment. "Oh, don`t be
such a sobersides, Mavis."

I decided to change the subject. I didn`t want us to quarrel. Jean and
I saw each other at the Over Sixties every Tuesday, and I didn`t want
there to be an atmosphere between us the next time we met. Life was too
short for quarrelling. Hughie and I had wasted enough of it by doing
just that. I suddenly recalled the other reason why I`d always envied
Jean. She`d got the lad she wanted, handsome Herb Hodges - mind you,
his looks had soon deteriorated and now he resembled a match stick
prune. "All this snow - just look how it`s coming down through the
window," I said hastily. "I`m glad we`re back inside in the warm. I
thought my feet were turning to ice blocks when we were stood at the
graveside."

"This sherry is helping me unthaw. Do you think they`d mind if I top
up my glass, Mavis?"
"Who cares what Hughie`s kids think, Jean. I`m having another myself."
I eyed his two daughters who were fussing around the vicar. With their
pale blue eyes and roly-poly figures, they were too much like their
mother, Doreen Higgins for my liking. How could they neglect their
widowed dad, and rarely visit him, until he was almost ready for his
dirt overcoat? I smiled grimly. Beverley and Belinda would be getting a
shock before long. One they wouldn`t care for. Still, they didn`t
deserve any sympathy. I hoped that they did feel pain when they heard
what their dad had left them. Hughie had shown me his will and it was
Cancer Research, and not his daughters, as they expected, who were to
come in for the bulk of his estate.

"It`s a generous spread, I`ll give them that. This pork pie`s
scrumptious, if you don`t want yours, I`ll have it. Mmm. I always
thought Hughie tight fisted, not to mention offhanded, but he`s laid
out for this. His house is certainly comfortable, if he was mean, he
wasn`t mean with himself. Look at this huge telly and music centre. And
the carpet, it`s inches thick, you sink right into it when you walk,
and just look, Mavis, at these velvet drapes."

"He wasn`t always so introverted. He had his moments. You should have
seen him forty years ago."
"I did. My aunt lived next door to his folks. You used to fancy the
pants off him, didn`t you, Mavis. I`d forgotten about that."
"Jean!" He fancied me, you mean. He was besotted with me, begged me to
marry him."
"Then why didn`t you? Why did you marry Stan Fisher?"
"I`ve asked myself that a score of times."

Why had I married Stan? I knew the answer of course. It was because
I`d fallen out with Hughie when he wouldn`t buy me the diamond ring I`d
wanted, expected me to choose a cheaper one to save him money. I
wouldn`t have cared if he`d been short of cash, but he had a well paid
job, and his parents were comfortably off. I knew he was just being
mean. I wasn`t having that, I was too proud. So I encouraged Stan to
make Hughie jealous. He, to get his own back, went off with Doreen
Higgins and got her pregnant. Her parents made sure he did the decent
thing by her. So that was that.

"So you`ve not been happy with Stan, Mavis?"
"I didn`t say that. It`s not been all bad. Of course there was never
any mad passion on my side, but Stan`s been a good husband, never kept
me short, looked after me when I`ve been poorly, and I have got my
grandchildren." I sipped my sherry and stared into the fire
reflectively. And Hughie and I had made it up when we were in our
forties, even if, with us both having marriage partners, our
relationship could only ever be unofficial.

* * *

A fortnight later I saw Hughie`s Belinda outside the Coop. I tried to
avoid her, to hide behind other shoppers, I didn`t really have anything
to say to such an unnatural daughter as she was. But I`d no chance,
she`d spotted me. She charged over, eyes blazing. "You knew," she
hissed accusingly, "you knew Dad hadn`t left his money to me and
Bev."

My fingers whitened on the handle of my shopping bag. "Your father did
let something slip once when we were chatting at the Over Sixties about
leaving everything to Cancer Research."
Belinda`s face went red then white. "Cancer Research, my eye."
"You mean they didn`t get it," I stammered awkwardly, "but... but he
showed me the will, it said Cancer Research on it. I don`t
understand."

She snorted impatiently. "If he showed you his will, and I don`t know
why he should have, he must have made a later one. What cuts me and Bev
to the quick is the way that old fox could cheat like he did on
Mum."

I felt a coldness in the region of my heart. "Whatever do you mean? I
said weakly.
Belinda sniffed. "He`s only left everything to Hughie, Junior, his
fifteen-year-old illegitimate son."