OX-TALES

‘I can’t be sitting here all afternoon; I really must get the dinner on. Those ox-tails take forever to cook, but they were a good price. I said as much too young Mrs Smith next door. “At that price you can’t go wrong,” I said. She turned her nose up, posh madam; thought I didn’t notice. She ought to try getting by on a pension, might do her good to eat ox-tails for a change. I expect she gives her lot caviar and smoked salmon for tea. Spoils ‘em something chronic; bikes, play stations, home computers! Pah, none of that in my day, if we wanted fancy gadgets we had to work for them, no getting into debt for us. We’d rather die than ask any one for credit. Spoilt, the whole damned lot of them. Ox-tails for tea and off to bed at six, that’s what kids need…… God I hate ox-tails.’

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‘Mum,’ said Katy.

‘Yes dear?’ Mrs Smith replied.

‘Why is old Mrs Jessop always so miserable?’

‘I’m sure she’s not miserable Katy, she’s just very old.’

‘I’ve never seen her smile once,’ Katy persisted.

‘Well, perhaps she’s lonely, living in that big old house all by herself,’ offered her mother.

‘She doesn’t like kids that’s for sure,’ said Katy accusingly. ‘I’ve said “good morning” to her any number of times, she just ignores me.’

‘Old people sometimes get a bit set in their ways. When she was your age kids were “best seen and not heard”, she probably thinks all youngsters are troublemakers.’

‘But I’m a nice person,’ argued Katy.

‘I know dear, and if Mrs Jessop knew you she’d know it too.’

‘In that case,’ said Katy. ‘We should invite her over to dinner. I’ll go straight round and do it now.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ replied Mrs Smith, but Katy had already gone.

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‘That whippersnapper from next door came round last night,’ Joyce Jessop moaned.

‘Oh yes,’ Gladys Birk replied. ‘What was it this time? “Could you sponsor me?” or “Could you buy a raffle ticket?” Little scroungers!’

‘Worse,’ Joyce snapped. ‘Invited me round to dinner, like I can’t look after myself.’

‘What did you say?’ asked Gladys.

‘I told her straight, “I don’t need your flaming charity” I said. I got her back though; I told her mother that two hundred pounds was missing from my purse.’

‘Oh Joyce,’ said Gladys reprovingly.

‘Well,’ said Joyce. ‘That’s exactly what the little brat would have done if I hadn’t kept my eye on her. Of course they denied it, but I said if they paid me back I wouldn’t get the law involved.’

‘And did they?’ asked Gladys.

‘Too right they did,’ said Joyce gleefully. ‘I think I’ll treat myself to some of that smoked salmon they’re so fond of.’

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‘And finally in local news, neighbours of Joyce Jessop, widow of former headmaster Alfred Jessop, were shocked at the discovery by police of the seventy-three year old’s body in the dining room of her home. Police were called by the mother of Katy Smith, a year seven pupil at the school where Mr Jessop taught. This Good Samaritan often said “good morning” to her elderly neighbour and had grown concerned at not seeing her for several days.

‘Preliminary reports confirm that Mrs Jessop had been dead for over a week having apparently choked on a bone from a piece of smoked salmon. When told of this, Mrs Smith was surprised to hear her elderly neighbour could afford such expensive tastes. When asked what she herself was having for dinner Mrs Smith replied “Ox-tails, they’re on special offer at the moment and at that price you can’t go wrong”.

‘And that was the news, goodnight…..’ (off camera) ‘God, I hate ox-tails.’
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COPYRIGHT DM PAMMENT NOVEMBER 2007