Eve tries new groups

Eve goes new-ageing

Eve was feeling more anxious than ever as she prepared for her first visit to the spiritualist meeting. She’d seen it advertised in the library and decided to give it a try. Really, she thought, my life is fine but having decided I want to try new things I jolly well will. For some time she’d had the feeling that the grass might be greener elsewhere and the only way to be sure was to go and have a look. During the journey Margaret Moore, the owner cum driver of the minibus, informed her that the spiritualists meeting at Jenny Jefferson’s home (No. 3, Southside Villas, Kidneyswamp), would be cold on account of the Jefferson’s being in favour of home-knitted woollies and having alternative views about household heating. ‘Central heating equals porridge for breakfast,’ style of thing.

Margaret analyses 'men'

‘Brian is a drip,’ Margaret suddenly snapped. ‘You know he has the market stall in Kidneyswamp selling fruit and veg?’
Eve opened her mouth to reply but was too slow. Brian must be Margaret’s husband, she supposed.
‘He practically gives things away when he’s in a soppy mood. He’s a sucker for anyone with a hard luck story, you know? How we’re supposed to make ends meet I really don’t know.’
‘Oh dear,’ Eve managed to say.
‘My father was in the forces you know. Retired at fifty-something with a good pension. Index- linked. That’s a real man’s job.’
Ten minutes later Eve disembarked with mild earache, hoping for a peaceful time at Jenny’s house.

After the meeting

Two hours after this she emerged looking confused. As she stepped out into the daylight she suddenly felt a weight lift off her shoulders. After yet another shower of rain the sky had finally cleared and as she walked along the path towards the bus the sun shone through water droplets hanging from the branches of trees. Eve savoured the sensation of being winked at by tiny diamonds as she waited for the minibus.
‘Good meeting?’ enquired Margaret once they were under way.
‘Oh yes, thank you,’ Eve replied, coming round from her day dreams.
‘Some sort of spiritual thing, is it?’
‘Something like that,’ Eve admitted. ‘I haven’t been before so I don’t know much about it. I mean the other people that attend could explain better than I.’
‘Must be nice to relax at the end of the day,’ Margaret persevered, trying to elicit some gossip from her solitary passenger, but Eve was reluctant to be drawn.
Margaret soon gave up fishing for news and did the talking herself. By the time Eve disembarked, barely ten minutes later, she’d had a potted history of Jenny’s family and home (No. 3) which included Jenny’s partner (not married), two children (Brook and Meadowsweet), an ageing lodger called Airplane, not much furniture - what little there was being mostly home-made. Then Margaret gave a brief description of her immediate neighbours at No. 4:- Sue Lee, husband Stuart and two children, Constant and Patience. Margaret and Brian lived at No. 5 with their three children.

Moaning about neighbours

‘Prim and proper, Sue Lee,’ Margaret said. ‘They have funny meetings at their house too.’
‘Don’t you ever have meetings at home?’ Eve asked, rumour suggesting that Margaret was involved in running the Hollyist childrens’ group.
‘Of course,’ Margaret replied. ‘Normal meetings - my mail-order shopping group, for example.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘You can get 10% discount if you buy through me!’
Eve was finding it increasingly difficult to hang on to any notion of what ‘normal’ might mean and was further confused when she let slip that someone called The Chief had been present at Jenny’s spiritualist group.
‘Oh! That’s Bob Nylon!’ Margaret explained. ‘He’s been four different people this year!’
Eve furrowed her brow and found herself unable to comment. Margaret took the silence as an invitation to elaborate.

Meet bob Nylon - singer/songwriter

‘For some time he was Bob Nylon, a pasty faced young fellow who fancied himself as a singer/songwriter. This involved walking around Smogdale throughout the winter wearing dark glasses, carrying a guitar and a notebook. Now it seems he’s boot polish brown and wearing a feathery head-dress. His spell as Bob Nylon was rapidly followed by Nylon Thomas the poet which was easier on his back on account of being able to leave his guitar at home and he also found he was less inclined to step in things he didn’t like after he’d discarded the sunglasses, reasoning that a poet ought to be able to see the world he endeavoured to write about. For the last three weeks he’s been Thomas Hardly, the novelist and taken frequent trips into the woods to the north of Smogdale to seek inspiration.’
‘Good lord!’
‘He could do with a regular job like my Brian. My father was in the forces you know.’
‘Yes, you said ...’
‘It was horrid having to move to a new school every time he was posted.’
‘Yes,’ Eve replied, thinking that the two hours Margaret had spent with Brian in-between bus trips must have been a positive experience.



Free Humorous Novel

Copyright Peter Fairbother