Someone always knocking on the door

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Chapter 22

The super rich efficient wives who have held onto themselves long enough to handle the documents with the deeds to the house the lands and titles must now be very sorry for the troubled lives they have led. Their fortunes and made things better for the whole of their clan. Their self centred devotions, ablutions to wash aside the years. The yearnings passionate years which has made me into this sorry hag.

“Arms to the man or woman who can handle the arms.”

“Alms are charity to the vulnerable give to us in charity for we are without wits to sign the dotted lines and take what is rightfully ours.”

“Never mind that why are not you working?”

“Husband numbers gone up he is behaving meaner than ever?”

“The things which take times toil.”

“The bell ringers here all the time,”

“Give alms to the poor woman who does not have any money of her own.”

Spent times of passions thinking? He is thinking yes thinking women who think of their fortunes in the same way as the merchants of their shipyards. What they had to do to do? Add. Add and no sub traction at all.

Not to the waistline? It is not corseted enough? What matters is thin waist. My waistline has gone sags? The heart attack is near? Never mind I will foreswear the pudding of dear cook. Cabbages and all out war paint to wear might make you look lot more attractive; wear it round your waist it might thin down a lot more.

“It is beastly dull having a rich husband and unable to eat the fatty diets.”

“Yes it is a shame.”


“Yes the corset was shorten too much her waist too fat.”

“Now mother lie down dear here.”

“Ouch my dear child I ache all over.”

“Dowry incomplete and your step dad are incompetent.”

“Must you mummy marry again?”

“I not dead yet petal I need a friend.”

“Not now.”

It added to their wealthy relatives coffers, enriched beyond the pall. Their pallor adding to the snuff boxes as they ladies. Their ladies in waiting off and the man thinks about turning in the towel as love did not treat him right or well and why the hell should he stay when he does not like her ways or manners which are crass and boorish if unique not ladylike like his former wife? One must eat plain and never munch and never speak when eating and sit up straight all the time and do not run. Always behave with dignity and self respect whenever do not sound the bells out loud and when in doubt cry. Run away with the polo game. Their waiting games they now gone off the idea of behaving well.

Off to their superior balls and enriched by the gowns of their seasonal fetes. Name day or something there is always something to look out for.

Their fates are decisive- maintenance- they worn well? Yes cast iron alibi they looked after themselves.

These are the watchful years now over. They can become the true queens. They had got over the beheadings. Shudders run through their clothes. Their games are off chance. They never do it twice the same way. Of course richly endowed wealthy males always welcome.

They now the queens to behead the others unlike ourselves who have succeeded these others have not or ever will. A relief to know that one has the power over ones head, Cinders no longer knows the true pageantries of the food for the Gods. We now leap dancing into the years secure and good.

“What is the matter with it?”

“I think he meant he not well with the idea?” His eyes sought the young girl. She held more promises. The lips hardly touched her neck so smooth. Her lines in her eyes he said electric eyes the brightest of the future staring into his.

The future in her bright eyes brighter than my shady lantern I am not yet done for? I was done in done for in and done more in. He sought in her the truth. The true bearing of a queen not this clumsy wife with no status but that between her vagina nothing to offer but offence of a kind and the unkind thing was she not reality? She clumsy made his eyes tears. She brought him nothing. Nothing he wanted he had what she gave.

Which meant no more to him even if they had been bought and paid for?

This woman who loved him was just another girl yes or no and this flower girl to him at that time nothing more than yes or no. That having no meaning except as a pawn in the game of chance; meant that much to him that she ceased to mean anything but affection and fondness and the season which had been in the past.

Her overbearing manners saved her life.

But her little girlish figure and looking like a girl who was youthful and in danger endeared her to the crowds.

That the poor girl disfigured in the stakes as a mathematician and she did not bewitched them anymore she saddened them reminded them of failures of makeup and all that sort of thing.

She now was a clown.

“Look my husband’s in hell so he won’t think it more hellish if I give him more hell.”

“He ex communicated by society.”

“He not said it all.”

“His leg was with the gout he screamed the place down.”

“He had lungs like triumphant.”

“I am in love with you my dear?”

“Step daughter you looking at it?” asked someone from the past. Or the former queen now no longer that. Just this wife who is in the way of something more important but inopportune; what did it matter ambition is hell to stand over for.

Ambition kills love.

The ground she had won had been lost the moment she stopped being queen. She knew this certainly she knew what else did she know?

She wanted to remain a princess so she could be courted and haggled over.

“No I have a squint.” said her new husband.

“I am not stupid as you think. This is a disaster. I mean not well by you. I was the queen.”

“I know. I know.”

“This is bad for me.”

“Why is that?”

“I am older than this. I did not mean to be bad, badness not my mould. Fortitude is mine own truth. The true meaning of behaving like a queen this my lineage and that makes me prouder than being married to someone without much more than foreign and having fanciful ideas. I have lived in times treacherous, said to be a hang mans neck. I have bravely born everything to be where I am.

“What a lady she is.”

“That is his wife.”

Now to stumble onto to something else my lantern is eclipsing my former self and there is too much to see and see like hide and seek. Something wild in me and disappointed charges in and leaps to the defence of this world galloping clearer and clearer in the visionary might and young so unlike this sheltered corseted bearing. Like mine but former husband’s a bad thing to think when my own is coming too? The child who I gave this and that to now come to take what is mine own.

“You can take it from me but would you be able to keep it my dears?”

The charities are bearing us well they have settled into feeding clothing and mating with us. It is now not mine but the new commune and we all adore charities because everyone having a ball. The true meaning of being good and bad is now open in the open. I do hate her. I do hate her for she is queen. Queen in her veins mined with vanities. In vain did I aspire to her status because she a lady. The husband who did love me I did not love. Married without love and knew this because it meant not much than to me.

“She told me so sorry but she not in love with you old man.”

I married for his power. Not himself. Not himself the fat man in the trousers. He stood without meaning to stand. He did not do it well. His temper is the only thing I remember of him.

“I will be true queen.”

Order and more of the same last orders.

For whom the bell toils is it not?

No fucking chance there is the mother in law with her and it is not wise to stay talking to a pretty girl so sod off.

The pub was dark and square there was a pool table and a couple of men were worrying about the levity of the game because not football.

Their true selves were at that world cup and playing this little table meaningless. A bit like me and him actually.

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