The Frolicking Fox
Beryl Mason's tavern, The Frolicking Fox, is tucked among a variety of shoppes and pubs along Kilburn High Road. The locals favorite it for the comfort food that Beryl and her staff serve up daily. They relish the shepherd's pie, the soups, and stews; the cod, chips, and mushy peas; the bangers and mash. Her tarts and cakes are favorites as are the nights that her husband Bill can coax her out of the kitchen and into the pub's saloon to warble out a song or two during the intermission of a cabaret. Of course, the fiery redhead denies that she enjoys the attention, insists that she only sings because Bill enjoys hearing her, but there is no denying that a receptive crowd can persuade her into entertaining with a well-rehearsed set.
Beryl is Elsie's oldest friend in London, meeting Elsie seven years ago when she answered the advert to share the rent of a flat in the north of the city. After initial battles over how to arrange the fridge and what types of foods they should store in the cupboard, the two eventually put aside their differences becoming close friends and confidants. Elsie learned to allow Beryl a free hand in the kitchen and Beryl came to appreciate Elsie's aptitude for order and tidiness.
It was Elsie who saw the potential in Bill Mason when after meeting him at the park with his young son, thought the young widower with his gentle steadiness would be the perfect match for her fiery, headstrong friend. It was no secret that Beryl fell for William first, the shy boy who clung to his father and loved to play catch with his dog in the park. The love for his father came not long after.
Like any good barkeep, Bill sizes Elsie up from afar. Bidding goodbye to one of their regulars, Bill grabs a glass and a bottle of Glengoyne single malt, sets it in front of her, and pours a generous measure. Elsie smiles sadly, asks Bill how he knows when she needs a something stronger than the merlot she usually drinks. He pats her hand, mentions that he is good at his job and better still at knowing his friends. Elsie is thankful for Bill, for the man he is. Kind, thoughtful, gentle. Solid and dependable. She sees a great deal of Joe in Bill; for Joe is all of these things as well, but they just are not enough for her to accept him. There is something missing, something she wonders if she will ever find.
"Bill Mason, hurry up, I haven't got all night!" the robust cook shouts as she burst forth from the kitchens carrying a plate of sandwiches. "What's kept you?" Out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of Elsie quietly nursing her drink. Shoving the plate into Bill's hands and giving him a hard shove against his arm, she exclaims "And why didn't you tell me she was here?!"
"I only just got…." Elsie tries to explain before she is interrupted by the insistent tones of her friend.
"….I'm so sorry love, Joe's already called," Beryl replies sympathetically. "Come on. Tell me all about it."
"Really, Beryl, it's all right," Elsie insists. Beryl means well, but sometimes Elsie and Bill have to reign her in, assure her that the sky is not falling.
"Nonsense, you don't break it off with a man after four years and say that you're ok," Beryl says already rounding the corner and grabbing Elsie by the hand.
They settle in a quiet corner booth and Beryl is determined to find out exactly why Elsie refused Joe. Why exactly, after all his years of pursuing her, Joe isn't successful in winning her heart.
"But he's a good man, isn't he? He's stable, decent. He treats you well. He loves you. He told me he would move to London if you wanted him to," Beryl rattles off Joe's attributes.
"You're in the wrong profession," Elsie remarks sarcastically, "you'd have made an excellent solicitor." She runs a forefinger around the rim of her glass and sighs deeply. "He is a good man, and kind, and stable and everything that would make a good husband but….."
"….but he isn't the one," Beryl sympathizes. Elsie shakes her head. No, Joe is not the one, not three years ago when he first proposed and not tonight when he proposed again.
"Maybe if he moved to London?" Beryl questions hopefully, thinking that distance doesn't always make the heart grow fonder and that time together will heal what ails them.
"No," Elsie replies quietly, pulling a cigarette from her purse. It is an awful habit, one she's tried to break. Has almost broken, but the stress over finishing the book and this business with Joe has compelled her to fall back into the habit. "I couldn't ask him to do that because he'd be miserable. Joe loves the farm and while it is a nice place to go for the weekend, I am not that farm girl anymore, and Joe's not one for the city. It wouldn't be fair to ask that of him."
Bill ushers the last of them out, a young couple who has had their books cracked open, but not doing much studying. He wishes them a goodnight, smiles as the young man wraps his arm protectively around the young woman who smiles, laughs,and tucks her head into the crook of his shoulder as they walk off into the night. Bill closes the door, clicks the lock with a loud thud, and ambles over to where Beryl and Elsie sit. He slides into the booth next to his wife and casts Elsie a sympathetic gaze.
"But why don't you let him decide that?" Beryl presses further.
"Bee, don't push, Elsie's made her decision. I'm sure that it was hard enough, now let it alone," Bill admonishes his wife firmly but gently.
"I only want to see her happy," Beryl adds, determined to get the last word in.
"Who says that I'm unhappy?" Elsie asks a bit irritated, flicking the ash from her cigarette into the dish that sits nearby. Maybe not unhappy, Beryl thinks watching Elsie draw on the cigarette between her lips, but certainly ruffled.
The two women chat among themselves as Bill picks up a newspaper left by a customer and begins to browse through it. A headline reader, he discards most sections of the newspaper hurriedly before settling in with the sport section. He stretches it out, begins reading, attempting to tune out the women's conversation. He feels sorry for Elsie, what with Beryl trying to encourage her into not giving up on Joe just yet. The conversation thankfully shifts to William and his studies, a girl in whom he is interested.
"Wait a minute, may I see that?" Elsie asks just as Bill is about to tuck the sport page away with the rest of the paper. He hands her the section and she stamps out her cigarette. Taking the page, she looks it over carefully. Her eyes narrow, brow knits together, she bites her lip.
"Since when did you become interested in cricket?" Beryl asks with a laugh.
"I'm not," Elsie answers. "But I met him tonight at the book signing," she replies turning the paper around, a slender finger coming to rest on an advert on the back page.
"Oh, my. He's a handsome one," Beryl says titling her head and leaning in for a better view.
"Oh, that's Charlie Carson," Bill informs them. "I've seen him play. Played for Yorkshire. He was a natural. Was one of the best," Bill gushed.
"So, now he's a presenter? And a reader of historical romance," Beryl added with a smirk. She demurs under the steely glare of her friend.
After another half hour and a few more stories, a bit of gossip about some of their friends and Elsie begins to gather her bag and coat. She thanks them for listening, assures Beryl that she really is all right. Tells them that she is going home to take a warm bath and head straight to bed. That she has an interview in the morning and that she'll let them know when it will air. Beryl hugs her tightly and presses into her hand a bag of take away to put in the fridge for tomorrow's supper. Elsie can always count on Beryl to make sure that she is fed and she can always count on Bill for a kiss and a pep talk. He walks her to the door and tells her that she has done the right thing and the right man will come along. She nods her head and thanks him, tells him that he's right. She'll not let him know that she's worried that she's lost her last chance. Not at happiness but at marriage. She's spent four years with Joe and there isn't anyone else on the horizon.
TBC….Next Chapter: The Interview and the introduction of one Ms. Alice Neal. I'll let you guess who she is. Also, Charles reappears. Thank you for reading along and reviews are always, always appreciated. Also, thanks to Brenna-Louise for naming the pub. Chelsiefan's The Buttered Parsnip was an alternative and will be added into the story as well. x