Auntie Conceptualized

Patient Registration, Bide-a-Wee Hospital

Holmfirth, November 2013-

"Ivy? What are you doing here? " asked Pearl as Ivy bounded in with a large purse.

" Heard 'Auntie' Wainwright took ill and thought I'd better get here to get some business straightened out before it was too late," Ivy fumed.

"Business? What can tea shop have in common with junk shop?" asked Entwistle.

"Besides bad service?" quipped Truly.

"Bug off!" fumed Ivy as she hoisted her black leather purse.

"Well, you can't see her yet as she's still unconscious- and you aren't kin," pleaded Penny, the purple haired receptionist.

"Prove it!" boiled Ivy.

"But. .." sputtered Howard.

"If I weren't kin, how'd I know what's her REAL name?" glared Ivy.

"You know Auntie's real name? How?" gulped Cleggy.

"Never you mind but I can vouchsafe that 'er given name's Lydia!" Ivy fumed.

"LYDIA?!" all of them gasped.

"NOW will you let me pass?" fumed Ivy as the group had no choice but to let Ivy storm her way to the examining room while Penny hurriedly keyed in the name.

"Still dead to the world, eh? Well, you'd better wake up soon because I ain't lettin' you get the better me with any scam," Ivy boiled as she opened up her purse and took out a large envelope which she then brandished.

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Holmfirth, November, 1943

"Alfred, are you sure they'll give us room and board?" asked 17-year-old Lydia Grubb Wainwright-as she and Alfred pulled their large wagon with a tent tarp over it down the dirt road past the 'Holmfirth' road sign.

"Sure, they're kin," 48-year-old Alfred.

"That alone doesn't ensure they'll welcome us," Lydia sighed.

"Look, they may wish I never existed but surely they can't cast thee out- especially if thee keep workin' on that cough," Alfred groaned as he leaned especially hard on his walking stick while wincing from his right leg's stump rubbing against the peg.

"I've only coughed once in the last week but you're the one who. ..," Lydia pleaded.

"Look, they're more likely to pity their newest kin than shelter their blackest sheep," Alfred sighed.

"Well, the sooner we're under a roof and can keep you dry and warm, the better, I suppose, " Lydia said with resignation.

"Now, don't thee pity me. With thee being able to work up three sets of columns in your head an' me bein' able to sell ice to an Eskimo, we're an unbeatable team," Alfred insisted as he kissed his bride on the lips-as they passed the sign saying 'Sibshaw Residence' and came to a large set of stone duplexes on the street.

Alfred knocked on the door with his walking stick- and received no response.

"Chickie, could thee go 'round back an' see if there've taken their wheels?" Alfred asked.

"Do you think they're hiding inside?" Lydia asked.

"Likely. Wouldn't be the first time but they can't get far without their wheels," Alfred insisted-as he started to bang on the front door again.

"Bloody 'ell, Susan. Open the door!" Alfred shouted as he banged some more with his walking stick.

"Must you always make a scene! No need for the neighbors to get the wrong idea" sniffed a woman from behind the door.

"Thee let me an' the missus in right now or. . ."Alfred fumed.

"Mrs.? I never thought any of you Wainwrights had any use for vows," Susan sneered as she propped open the door a bit- and peered to see Lydia running to the back of her house.

"I'll remind thee that Mr. Wainwright stayed wed to Mum to 'er dyin' day an' we both know Dad stayed yoked to your mum to the bitter end," Alfred sniffed.

Susan Prescott Sibshaw [aged 45] was a tall brunette woman with a dark blue silk dress, a pearl necklace and ankle-strap platform shoes to add to her height.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me to her?" Susan asked.

"Chickie! Get back here!" Alfred insisted as Lydia ran back from behind the house.

"Alfred Wainwright, I'll not have you order me about," Lydia fumed-as she came back

"You're letting a tiny slip of a girl order you about? You must have really gotten married," Susan laughed.

"Oh, Hell's bells! Susan, this is my bride of some month, Lydia. Lydia, this 'ere's Susan Sibshaw me sis-. .." Alfred started to say.

"Shh! Not so loud, Mr. Wainwright! Mrs. Wainwright, why don't you go see my back yard while I discuss an important matter with your husband?" Susan suggested with saccharine sweetness.

"But, Susan. .." Lydia started to say.

"It's Mrs. Sibshaw to you- BOTH of you!" Susan fumed as she strongly gestured for Lydia to go to the back.

"Susan. .. Mrs. Sibshaw, there's no need to treat Lydia so shabbily. It ain't like she's done anything to grieve the family," Alfred boiled.

"The boy of a very impressionable age and I won't have my efforts to hone him into the image of his father- the Colonel- be undone by. ." Susan was heard to shout as Lydia ventured into the back yard.

In the back yard, a short blond boy about 14 in shorts, Oxfords, a collared shirt and a tie rode up in a bicycle.

"Say, are you one of those Hull refugees they've resettled here?" the boy asked.

"Not exactly," Lydia sighed.

"Well, there's not much to do around here besides bicycling so if you ever want to join me," the boy pleaded with a twitch of his eyebrows.

" I'm not interested," Lydia sighed.

"I know I may not seem like Clark Gable now but I just stopped shaving a month ago and before too long I'll have a real mustache," the boy insisted- while pointing to two tiny blond hairs on his upper lip.

"Are you Susan Sibshaw's son?" Lydia asked.

"Yep! Howard's the name and. .." Howard pleaded.

"Howard, I'm already taken and not interested so. .." Lydia fumed.

"That's okay. We can sneak a kiss or whatnot and your boyfriend will never be the wiser," Howard laughed.

"I told you. I'm taken and NOT interested," Lydia seethed.

"One little kiss and. ." Howard pleaded as he started to walk towards her but before he could try anything, he felt a sharp kick to his shins.

"And if you ever try that again, it'll be HIGHER!" Lydia boiled while wagging her finger at him.

"Howard Sibshaw! What on Earth are you doing?" Susan fumed.

"Mother, I was just trying to make friends with. .what's your name?" Howard asked.

"It's your Auntie Wainwright! " Alfred fumed as raised his own walking stick.

"Uncle Wainwright? When did you get here? You never told me you had a baby sister," Howard sputtered.

"She ain't me sister! She's me wife!" Edgar boiled.

"Wife?! But she's so young and you're so. .." Howard gasped.

"Armed- an' if thee don't treat 'er with respect due to 'er as your Auntie, I'll make thee cry Uncle till thee are a monkey!" Alfred fumed-as he brandished his walking stick.

"Sorry, Uncle . .and Auntie Wainwright," Howard gulped.

"Just so long as thee give 'er your propers an' put all thought of 'er as anything but your Auntie outta yer 'ead," Alfred insisted with Susan vigorously nodding.

"Yes, Sir. Uncle Wainwright," Howard sighed.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way! I'll be back with your tea,"Susan insisted.

"You mean you're letting us sleep. ..?" Lydia started to ask.

"It wouldn't be right to let kin catch their death from outside chill so you two are welcome to sleep in the tool shed," Susan insisted as she pointed to the small structure in the back yard.

"Thank you for straightening out that Howard," Lydia stated once they were alone.

"The boy likes to think he's a ladykiller rogue but he ain't got what it takes to fit the bill," Alfred shrugged.

"And how do you know?" Lydia asked.

"Because, in spite of all his mother's efforts to turn him into his father's image, he takes after OUR dad instead- and Dad only stepped out one time," Alfred laughed- as he pointed to himself.

"Thanks for taking up for me!" Lydia beamed.

"Me pleasure. Though, it made me proud to see thee take care of yourself!" Alfred laughed.

" I like how Howard became instantly intimidated as soon as he saw me as his aunt," Lydia laughed.

"Thee deserve respect," Alfred insisted as she spread out the cart's tarp on the toolshed floor to try to make a cushion.

"Perhaps if we were known as 'Uncle and Auntie' instead of Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright, others might respect us,too," Lydia pondered.

"Thee may have something!" Alfred insisted as he blew out the small hurricane lamp while they made themselves as comfortable as possible on the floor of the Sibshaws' tool shed.