Weekend at Badger's Lodge

Susan Jones

Weekend at Badger's Lodge

Brandy and Ginger with Whisky Chocolates

"How did the speed dating go?" Poppy stamped price tickets on boxes of chocolates, stacking them neatly on the shelf marked 'special offers' waiting for Janey's reply.

"Mmm, not a total disaster nor life changing either – there was someone I might be seeing again though."

"Janey Dobson, sly minx – might see again?"

Wide eyed now with hands on hips Poppy didn’t seem ready to let the subject of Janey's date drop. "Was he mean and moody? The Daniel Craig type?"

"No," Janey laughed. “You watch too many films, he was just, you know …."

Polly gave a satisfied smile.

"See, I told you it was worth a try, it's not as if you're a spring chicken any more, I worry about you, on your own all the time. I'd love to see you finding a nice man."

Janey turned as the tinkling of the shop bell broke the conversation leaving her sighing with relief.

Karen Dixon struggled with her buggy and shopping bags, letting the door bang behind her.

"Hey Karen, how's things with you?"

Often customers popped into 'Sweet Things' for a chat and a bit of a moan. Janey and Poppy were always there to listen and give sound advice. Mr Lacenby left them in charge. He trusted them both, and he always stressed upon them how important it was that they found time to talk to regulars and new customers alike. Karen heaved a weary sigh, and plonked herself onto the nearby stool that was kept for just that purpose. She seemed glad of a respite most likely from trekking round the shops by the look of all her bags.

"I'm really missing our Jack,” she said.  ”We're counting off the days on our wall chart, putting coloured stars to show when he comes home. It's supposed to be for the kids, I'm helping them of course. They miss him as well. It's hard on your own. Not that I'm on my own, I've got Jack, he writes all the time."

"Aww, it's lovely, you keeping in touch, are you allowed to Facebook him and text, stuff like that?"  Poppy said.

"No, not really, we write though."

Janey frowned, she wished Poppy wouldn't bombard Karen with so many questions. Why couldn't she listen, just for once, that would be an impossible ask. Poppy continued chatting. "And that choir you've been singing with, it's brilliant, hey, he won't half be proud when he hears you've made the charts."

"Yeah, hope so. Anyway how are things with you two?"

"Well, Janey has some news on the romantic front haven't you dearie?" Polly folded her arms with a smug grin, clearly bursting to tell Karen. Janey knew she couldn't keep the secret for long, not that there was a secret, but she would have liked to keep the news to herself, at least until she knew if it was going anywhere.

"Been speed dating, down at the legion, turned out better than she thought. Go on." She was nodding, not giving Janey an inch to change the subject.

Janey spoke gingerly. "Yes, it was okay. I'm seeing Forester again."

"Forester? That name sounds familiar; didn't you have a boyfriend in the last year at school with that name? You don't mean Forester Baxter do you? His mum delivers meals on wheels." Janey felt herself blushing; she'd been practically pushed into the speed dating by Poppy's constant nagging: as if being thirty-something and not attached was a cardinal sin!

"Think I did go out with him, you're right," muttered Janey.

Karen rocked the buggy backwards and forwards, hushing the grizzling twins.

"Oh, that's lovely. You and he still single, shows something then." She stood back quietly. Poppy repeated dreamily, "Ahh yeah, shows something."

Janey picked up a box of whiskey liquors desperate to change the subject.

"You two, what are you like? It's just a couple of old friends meeting up for a drink. Think he'd like a box of these? I know he drinks whiskey, or he used to." Poppy and Karen were smiling and nodding knowingly at each other.

"He's suggested an Easter weekend break, only one night. We're both tied up with family commitments over the Christmas and New Year, it'd be a change." Janey picked up a duster, and carried on with her work.

"Well -- hellooo; weekend break – as in sleep-over-night?" Poppy was blinking, those long eyelashes, neck extended like an interested giraffe who had just spotted a lush green bamboo. The sight had Janey giggling.

"I know, me, weekend break, do you think I should?"

"I would! Where did he suggest?"

"Stratford, Warwick, the Cotswolds maybe, I'm thinking it over, I need to let him know by the weekend."

"I'd jump at the chance of a weekend alone with my Jack," Karen sighed. “Well, I'll be off, thanks for the chat ladies, don't know what I'd do without you two to have a chin wag with. Give us a box of jelly babies Poppy." She nodded to where little Lydia and Lyndon's favourite sweets stood tidily on the shelf. No, better make it two boxes, they'll only squabble otherwise.

After Karen had gone, Poppy made two cups of earl grey tea. As they relaxed into the afternoon break, she gave Janey a gentle nudge.

"Hey, I'm pleased for you, honestly I am. Time you found someone."

"Thanks. I'll keep you informed."

"You'd better. Hey, and don't forget who's idea the speed dating was. If there's going to be any wedding bells, I'm first up for chiefy."

"What!" Janey couldn't believe the ideas Poppy came up with at times.

"Y'know, chief bridesmaid, that'll be me."

***

Janey took a deep breath as she entered the lounge of Badger's Lodge in the middle of the Warwickshire town. They'd spoken on the phone, exchanged texts and now she was meeting up with him again. It was her idea to have a taxi. She wanted to arrive separately. It somehow wouldn't have felt right sitting next to him in his car, she was after all, an independent woman. This was a huge deal, meeting someone wasn't something she did. She felt better arriving alone, then it gave them chance to get to know each other better. Heart thumping, she spotted him first, sitting at a low table, brushing a stray hair off his jacket. He looked quite relaxed. So handsome, she hoped he approved of her swirling knee length black velvet skirt, lacy tights with aubergine fluffy low cut top. It had been so long since she'd bothered to dress with a man in mind. If she was utterly truthful, he was the only man she wanted to dress decent for. Meeting him at the speed dating was a dream. He glanced at his watch; looking slightly irritated. He'd been moody, one of the reasons their short-lived romance had broken down. Now they were both single Taking a deep breath, she strode confidently towards him, the man she was going to spend the night with.

"There you are." As he looked up, she noticed how his lake-blue eyes lit up, lingering on her face, taking in every detail, from the colour of her lipstick to the swept up hair, then to her over-exposed cleavage. Suddenly she began to shake with fright, or could it be excitement?

Over the meal of shrimps in sauce, followed by peppered steak and salad, Forester and Janey chatted over old times, deciding to tell each other what had annoyed them about each other the first time round. It seemed the disagreements that drove them apart, had in some absurd way cemented their love.

"I haven't met anyone since you that would have a decent conversation with me," Forester confessed.

"Well, I'm glad about that." Janey cocked her head to one side. "Remember how we used to flick our desserts at each other?" She took a spoonful of trifle, aiming the spoon towards him laughing. Then she lowered it to her plate. When he smiled, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, more pronounced than she remembered only made her love him more. He was holding a spoon of trifle, aiming it towards her chest, then he put it back. "We have grown up since then, haven't we?"

Janey and Forester took their brandy and ginger drinks over to the log fire where they watched it burning down to an ember. Chatting, reminiscing, sometimes just gazing at each other, Janey felt more relaxed than she had done for a long time. Now the moment was right. She reached into her handbag.

"Do you like these?" She held up the box of milk chocolates with the Irish whiskey centres, smiling demurely.

"They look good, nice for afters."

"How about we squash them over each other, then lick them off?" she whispered devilishly. It was precisely around five minutes later that they made their way into the lavish double bedroom of the Lodge.

Slowly, Janey undressed, feeling tense, yet enjoying every moment of this special time. Maybe Forester would think she'd gone too far with the chocolate game, or would he enjoy it, take it for a bit of fun, nothing more? For once in her boring life, she was living for the moment. As if they were teenagers again. Breaking up the chocolates, then pouring liquid centres over each other, rolling and frolicking like a couple of teenagers. They hadn't been as daring as this back then. Covered in whisky chocolate, licking, kissing, rolling in a heap of absolute crazy fun she had the time of her life.

Next morning, she woke wondering if Forester had enjoyed the night as much as she had. Turning to face him, his eyes told her all she needed to know. Locked in love, time stood still. Both knowing that this was only the beginning. So much loving to catch up on. Forester was first to jump out of bed.

"I'll switch the shower on." Then they saw the aftermath of their passion. Sheets smeared with chocolate – not a little bit that could be wiped off with a flannel, no, a really big bit that would never go unnoticed.

"Oh no;" Janey slid under the duvet, covering her head. "What are we going to do?"

The car was loaded up, sheets bundled in an ungainly heap up the corner of the room. Before he drove off Forester spoke briskly.

"There's something I have to do." She sat low down in her seat, in his car this time, he'd insisted on dropping her home. She waited for his return. "It's okay, I explained we had fun with a box of chocolates." Janey gaped in disbelief.

"You told them?" Forester gripped her knee laughing. "They thought it was funny: I explained we're back together after fifteen years. Don't worry. It's only chocolate and whiskey, they've likely seen worse." Janey sighed. That's one little detail she wouldn't be telling Poppy when she got back to work.

Bio

Susan is working on her first novel Hats off to Love which made it  to the shortlist of the 

Romantic Novelist's Association new talent competition 2012.  Her short stories can be found

on Alfie dog and also on Amazon - Growing up in the 70's where you can read 'High School Blues.' Articles have been published in The Great War magazine, Best of British, Bella, Take a 

Break and My Weekly.  Letters on embarrassing moments have appeared twice in
'That's Life.'

Visit the author’s website here:

www.susanjanejones.com

And her Blogs:

 www.susanjanejones.wordpress.com

http://about.me/susan.jones7

The Milkshakes

Susan Jones

Chocolate

Chummy was his own man. An independent go-getter. When he set his mind on something, he made sure he got it. He had the answer to everything; there was absolutely nothing that our Chummy didn’t know. From listening to friends’ girlfriend woes, to giving advice on financial issues, though Chummy himself was a walking danger zone where owing money was concerned. That’s not to say he didn’t pay his debts, just that he left it until a knock on the door from men in smart suits beckoned.
Sharp as a box of Stanley blades, he was hard to pin down. If Chummy said, “Meet me in half an hour,” you could make it an hour. When his M.O.T. was due, he booked it a month later. Knowing Chummy is an enlightening experience. Throughout his schooldays he sent out only one Christmas card to his one special friend. Chummy has an important date this summer. He’s best-man to that one same friend; who, because he knows Chummy too well, will tell him the wedding is two o’clock; it is actually three o’clock. Chummy wouldn’t miss it for the world. To know him is undoubtedly to love him.

Banana

Nic-Nak had a shop full of unusual items. From toys and sweets to tools and biscuits. Ladies from far and further than that, shopped at Nic-Nak’s. It wasn’t only a shop; more, a shopping experience. His effervescent conversation ensured that once inside his emporium, customers found it difficult to leave. Though leave they did, loaded up with trinkets, biscuits and sweet scented soaps. Once a month he ran a raffle. Top prize being a Panda bear or sometimes a huge fluffy dog. One day Mrs Pierce called in to see what he had on special offer. As she walked in, Nic Nak burst out laughing.
“Well hello there, have you dressed up as a lady for the fun day Mr….er…..which Mr are you?”
Mrs. Pierce, realising Nic Nak meant no harm, besides she did wear the trousers in her house, joined in the merriment.
“You, silly old bugger Nic Nak you! I’m dressed as me-self you rogue you. Only you could get away with calling me a man.” That indeed was a fact. Anyone else would have had the handbag treatment from Mrs Pierce. Nic-Nak, on the other hand, sold her some fruit salad and fresh cream.
                                                                      
                                                            Strawberry

She’s pretty, sweet and just about as girly as a girl can get. Rich and generous to those she loves, and that’s not that many people. You get a warm glow when she’s around; you always know when she’s around because she never stops talking, and I mean, talking, analysing,
“Where am I going wrong?” type of debates.
“What do you mean? Where am I going wrong?”
“Why haven’t I got a boyfriend? My Nan thinks I’m too bossy.” I think her Nan’s too bossy. She thinks her Dad’s too bossy.
Strawberry shake is stronger than she thinks; she does have a knack of turning up smelling of strawberries. That’s a gift she has - turning a bad situation into a good one. She makes me laugh without even trying. Utterly sensitive, feeling everyone’s pain, yet capable of standing her ground and causing a mini earthquake if she has to. Frothy, substantial, honest and faithful; with her, life could never be dull.


Bio:

Visit my website here.
www.susanjanejones.com
I am blogging here. www.susanjanejones.wordpress.com

The Magic Mixture

Ovaltine Susan Jones Glynis rolled out the scone mix, cut the dough into thick round wedges and placed them onto the baking tray.  Geraint followed with the pastry brush painting egg wash across the tops of the deep scones. Betty Juniper chief cook at the workhouse, opened the enormous Aga and filled the oven with the huge trays of cakes. 'Hey Glyn, where’s that barley?’  She had her head deep inside the pot, stirring the brew when she heard Geraint’s muffled voice.  Happy with the bubbling creamy mixture Glynis wobbled slightly on the tall stool she used to perform the daily jobs.  Turning with a quick twist she pointed the wooden spoon towards the larder. ‘Over there where we always keep it you goof.’ ‘Okay, keep your knickers on, I only asked.’ ‘Well I’m only telling.  Come on, hurry up!’  Geraint clicked his tongue with apparent annoyance as he retreated to the pantry.  Brothers eh? Glynis watched the way he huffed as he hauled the large sack of sweet smelling barley malt across the kitchen to where she was waiting.   ‘Sis, why do we have to do this job every single day?’  ‘Geraint, how can you say that?’  Glynis wiped her hands on her apron and jumped to ground level.  She drew her little brother to the stool and sat him down. ‘Look, I know we should be going to school, but we have to make refreshments for Dad and Uncle Terry, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to work like they do, would they?’  Betty bustled around the kitchen and began lifting the hot scones onto the large wooden table, followed by a plate of rock buns. ‘Hurry along children, time to go up to the gas works with lunch for the workers. ‘Glynis, is the mixture ready?’ ‘Nearly, I’ve just got to add the barley.’  She heaved the bag up and tipped the contents into the pan. ‘Jeepers, don’t overdo it.’  Betty steadied the bag as Glynis mixed and whisked with her wooden spoon until a frothy topping began to appear around the pan.  While Betty was close to hand, Glynis took her chance to ask the question. ‘Betty, Geraint and me, well we were wondering...” 'Yes?' 'Well we were wondering about our school work.’  Betty’s jaw dropped. ‘What get educated y’mean?’  she said. ‘Mmm that’s what we’ve been thinking.  We’d like to learn to read and write to make something of our lives.  Have something to aim for like a career one day maybe.’  Glynis held her head as high as she possibly could, watching Betty, wanting her to know that this wasn’t just an idea; it was more than that It was everything. Glynis waited for as long as she could for a reply Maybe it was foolish to have brought the subject up.  Maybe she was wasting her time.  ‘Tch, what d’you two need to learn things for eh?’  Realising the moment had passed, Glynis glanced across to where her brother was watching and shrugged her shoulders. ‘I tried,’ she mouthed silently.   Betty clapped her hands. ‘Get along you two for goodness sake.’ They left for the factory, as they did every day, loaded up with malted barley drink, rock cakes and scones.  As they walked up the cobbled hill, Mr Knockjack pulled up in his Rolls Royce.  He was the factory owner probably checking up on his workers.  Glynis was immediately rather afraid of this skinny little man with bushy grey hair, who watched them intently through his half opened car window.  ‘Children, what’s in those bags?’ ‘We’re taking lunch to the workers.  Our dad and uncle are in there.’   'Could I try some?’  Mr Knockjack’s beady eyes seemed to bulge at the sight of the cakes; piled high. ‘Just a little bit, there’s only really enough for the workers.  I don’t want anyone to miss out.’  Reluctantly, Glynis unscrewed the cup of the flask and poured half a cup of the pale brown steaming drink.  Handing it to him, she nodded to Geraint.  ‘Pass him one of those.’  Geraint took a sugary cake with currants jutting from all sides.  Glynis nodded as he whispered.  ‘You mean one of these?’  'Yes, go on, quick so he can have the two together.’  Glynis began to get a little impatient.  It was almost break time at the factory.  But then Mr Knockjack made a most unusual sound.  Glynis wondered for a moment if he was having what Betty would have called ‘a turn.’  Maybe he was choking even? It was a cross between a gurgle and a howl.  His eyes glared, nostrils flared, finally he spoke. ‘Oh my life this is simply wonderful, magnificent.  No wonder my workers at this factory are so jolly every time I call.  I wondered what the secret was; now I’ve tasted it with my own tongue.  That drink is absolutely dreamy, and so creamy it makes me feel relaxed.‘ ‘You like it that much?’  Her lips teased apart.  Glynis felt a well of pride growing inside her.  He liked it?  He actually liked something that she and Geraint had made.  She wanted to laugh.  Her breathing became short and sharp, her hands shook.  Here was factory owner Mr Knockjack reeling with happiness after tasting their offerings.  ‘We really have to get these to the workers, they’ll be waiting.’  She ushered Geraint through the double doors and along to the canteen area where they laid out the cakes and filled cups with drinks.  Mr Knockjack followed them. ‘Children, how long have you been coming here bringing such delights for my workers?’ ‘We’ve been coming here for ages.’  Glynis was glad of a welcome seat while her father, Uncle Terry and the rest of the factory workers enjoyed the scrumptious homemade fare they’d spread in front of them. She could see Mr. Knockjack behind them. He seemed to be marvelling at the scene as if at last something warmed his old, cold heart.  Glynis gathered up the flasks and gags, their work was finished for the day.  Geraint ran to his father and threw his arms tightly round his neck. ‘Go on lad, you go with Glyn.  I’ll see you tomorrow.’  Glynis took a deep breath and smiled bravely towards her father.  Since her mother died, there had been no other choice but the workhouse.  This job was a way that they could see him every day.  Blinking back tears that threatened to spill over onto her cheeks, she smiled and turned, leaving with the empty basket full of bags. The walk home seemed longer than usual.  Geraint kicked a stone hard against the cobbles. ‘Don’t do that, you’ll wear your shoes out.   Being grumpy won’t do anyone any good.’ ‘It’ll do me good.’  Glynis looked sideways at her younger brother, grinning.   ‘You should try it Glyn. How come you’re always cheerful?’  Glynis sighed.  If only he knew the  truth.  It was as she was thinking that the familiar Rolls Royce pulled up alongside them. ‘It’s that Knockjack chap,’ Geraint said. ‘Shush, Geraint, where’s your manners?’  ‘Can we talk for a moment children?  I’d like to have the recipes from you if that’s alright?  You’ve given me an idea that I’d like to try.”  ‘What’s that then?’  Glynis said shifting from one foot to the other, staring at him, seeking clues. ‘The effect on my workers is touching on miraculous. It’s definitely something I want to expand to my other factories.’  Glynis watched him lean towards her thinking about what he said. He really liked it that much? But she had to keep calm. But really? He really wanted to expand? That’s when it came to her. Taking a deep breath, she wanted to sound controlled, considered. But so much for that-  it was like words spilled out like barley. And they kept on spilling.             ‘Me and Geraint want an education Sir,” she said, crossing her fingers, twisting them behind her back.  ‘We really would like to read, write, and learn sums and countries.’  She felt her cheeks burn. Maybe what she was asking was impossible, but everyone had to dream, didn’t they?  Spurred on by Geraint’s excited little face she continued.  ‘If you had our recipes, then we’d have time to have books, pens pencils, I’ve always wanted to learn a language as well.’   Mr Knockjack leaned back in his seat pressing the tips of his fingers together, the way she’s seen Dad do, like it was something that helped grown-ups think. And she waited. And waited. She shifted, looked at her feet, then back at him who was watching her. Then she looked at Geraint saw the way he too was watching Mr Knockjack too, like this moment was now so big she might just fall inside it. What was she thinking? Dear God what if he told her dad- would be think she was begging? Would he send her to her room, would he.... That’s when he finally spoke.  He was leaning towards them, tapping his fingers together. ‘I could pay for your education until you’re both twenty one.’ Was that her gasping or Geraint? She daren’t look away from him. ‘Of course this would be In exchange for your wonderful cake and drinks formula,’ he said.  ‘You would have to show me exactly how they’re made of course.’  Glynis smiled when he said that, knowing how the mixture could vary slightly from one day to the next. But that was okay- wasn’t it? Because now she and her brother were being offered something that would change their life. Like really change it and all because of a recipe! What would Betty say to that? Oh she would be thrilled Glynis was sure.  Taking her brother’s hand squeezing it tightly, she nodded. ‘Yes, we have to go and tell Betty.  Definitely, the answer to your question is almost certainly yes.’  Mr Knockjack smiled and even as they turned and ran hand in hand along the cobbled street she knew if she turned her back he would still be smiling. But his smile could never match hers.       About Susan: I am 51 years of age, live in Warwickshire and have recently joined twitter. I have written articles for Words with Jam, My Weekly, Bella magazine and Take a break magazine. Visit my website here. www.susanjanejones.com I am blogging here. www.susanjanejones.blogspot.com

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My Special Earl Grey

by Susan Jones

He’s not tall dark and handsome, more medium grey and gorgeous. He lives in Millions Castle overlooking the Penerhalo Bay in a country called Bizorello, well known for its beauty and splendour. He discovered Bizorello when he was a young astronaut on an everyday moon voyage. Unfortunately for his family, but fortunate for me, he was catapulted onto one of the silk sandy beaches of Ancient Bizorello.

On discovering the redundant castle, Demetrio took residence, and the villagers rallied round to help him create a magnificent flower garden. There had long been a notion among Bizorellians that a saviour would come from afar, which summed up the ungainly arrival of Demetrio.

I had dreamed all my life of my romantic Earl who would be the perfect Gentleman; one who knew how to treat his lady. As a rippling breeze lifted the scent from the wonderful hollyhocks and roses that had been planted all those years ago, now maturing in serendipity, Demetrio sliced lemon into tall glass cups. Then me and my special Early Grey drank to his everlasting rule (but only in his gentle way) over Bizorello.

Relaxing back in the afternoon warmth and humidity there was no need for words. Just the flavour of the drink, and the twinkle in Demetrio’s eyes was enough.


Susan Jones has a website www.susanjanejones.com

Also you will find her blogging on www.susanjanejones.blogspot.com