(A 'Frank', elderly ladies man story)
For four years almost every time I traves the side streets to gain entry to the main road there is a plump lady who waves to me. Her house is on the corner and she is either sitting on her porch, feeding the birds or hand watering her garden, from early in the morning to mid afternoon. Always the same smile and wave, if she was elderly I could accept this as being normal, but this lady is in her late thirties early forties and not the type of activity one expects at her age.
Always the same print dress, and wearing thongs. I have never seen a car parked in her driveway or seen her actually speak to anyone. She was a pleasant looking lady, so there had to be some story attached and I suddenly made up my mind I was going to find out.
So to-day I slowed down as I got to her house she waved and I stopped. I waved her over and she came to the passenger's window.
"For years now I have been passing and you always wave, I think that is such a friendly gesture and I just wanted to tell you."
"I only wish more of our neighbours would even wave back, but I notice people around here very much keep to themselves."
"Yes, I agree with you there, I notice you never have any visitors, I never see any cars parked in your driveway, surely you have some friends?"
"I have my birds and plants. If I have them I'm happy."
"Maybe I can call round and see you some day, I hate to see people lonely."
"Won't your wife mind, you are married aren't you?"
"Sorry was, we separated on mutual terms just before you bought this house, I knew the old lady who had it before you. It was her that planted the soldiers, well that is what I call them, there used to be small trees in those beds with the soldier flowers a carpet at the base. I was sorry she passed away."
"I too was married, I killed my last husband. I thought I'd better tell you, for you are sure to find out. I was in prison before I came here. My mother bought this house for me. She comes to see me at times but she comes by bus that is why you never see any cars outside. I suppose you want to call off the offer of coming round, now you know I am a killer, which is what the courts call me. I did eight long years for that bastard, I am glad he is dead," she said and was about to turn away.
"Look Frank is my name and I still mean it. Want me to call round?"
"Violet, nice to meet you Frank, you can call round any time. As you know I'm always at home," she said giving me a wave as I moved away.
God she sounded a real hard woman, I wonder if she really was as hard as she made out. I noticed she had no make-up on and her skin looked really fresh and smooth. But God her dress sense held a lot to be expected. But a murderer, I wonder how many of the neighbours knew that. I wish I could have gotten her surname I would have checked her story out.
All day at work she kept coming to mind and the fact she killed her husband, but she did give me a clue. She said she served eight years and she has been in the house for four. So all I have to do is look for a woman named Violet who killed her husband at least twelve years ago.
That year there was only six and sure as hell there was Violet Martindale at the top. It wasn't as bad as I first imagined, she had killed her husband in self defence when he was attacking her after returning from the pub. This seemed to be a hobby of James Martindale, using his wife Violet as a punch bag. She said in her defence that he attacked her and she grabbed a knife and drove it through his heart after taunting her to do it. The prosecution put up a case that she had told a friend she was going to kill him and lay in wait until he came home, then she stabbed him. They admitted that it was a documented fact that the police had been called out many times over her husband James kicking shit out of her. Anyway she was given eight years without parole.
I think I would have done the same if I was her. Some women have to put up with a lot with these types of men, who won't say boo to a man, but act tough with women.
Now I know the recorded facts, I made up my mind I would call on her. At least show her someone cares and try and make her feel welcome.
That evening after I had my meal, I drove round and parked in her driveway. At least I was going to be open about it, as I am sure someone in the street will have taken note who was visiting Violet, but then maybe like I had, they had no idea what her name was.
After numerous bolts could be heard shooting she opened the door, but I could see two chains only allowing the door to be opened slightly.
"Oh it's you Frank, so you decided to call anyway. Please wait," she said and the door closed again.
Seconds later she held it open for me to enter. Her furnishings may have been spartan but they were clean and neat, everything sparkled.
"Since I said I would call, I thought I would just as well start this evening, I hope I didn't catch you off guard or take you from something important," I said, knowing women like to watch soapies.
"No I was just watching some rubbish on TV. It's not as nice as speaking with someone though. Can I get you a tea or coffee, sorry I have no alcoholic drinks," she said, now a fit flustered.
"What ever you are having, white with one sugar," I replied.
"Won't be a minute, please take a seat."
She disappeared through the door, I heard cups and saucers coming together then her footsteps receding, then a door close. Two minutes later the door open and then, "Just coming."
Then she came into the room carrying two cups which contained coffee. She had changed out of the dress she always seemed to wear and was dressed in a slim fitting light woollen dress, which really emphasised her bust and hips.
"My I really like your dress, it changes you completely Violet, very nice indeed," I remarked.
You would think I had granted her, her greatest wish, she just beamed and a real happy smile came onto her already smiling face, "Thank you, Frank for the complement."
We started talking on many subjects I avoided any mention of her past. This talking was just establishing common ground. At least we had one thing in common, we both loved playing Cribbage. So out came the board and a pack of cards and we spent the next two hours playing.
During the conversation she was surprised to learn that the woman she saw in my vehicle from time to time was my ex-wife. She couldn't understand that we were still friends and she often called to see if I was alright and we even went out together.
"Why did you divorce her then?" Violet asked.
"We were just not compatible, we are still very good friends though."
"I just can't understand it, all the women who I have met hate their ex-husbands. Usually they beat them or womanised, but the one thing that was common throughout they were miss-treated."
