With Apologies to Janet and John by Bob Baynes
With Apologies to Janet and John
They couldn’t have been more different. Dr Richard Cowley is an eminent and renowned surgeon, tall, slim, and a skilled and popular raconteur. Universally successful, he is a county level sportsman at just about anything that takes his interest from athletics to swimming, from racquet games to cricket, skiing, golf, everything. The only thing that stops him getting to the top, defined in his mind as an Olympic champion, is a low boredom ‘grass is greener on the other side’ threshold, so he never really concentrates on any one thing for very long. He also does all his own gardening and house maintenance – artisans he thinks are an unnecessary, unimaginative and ponderous layer of society that lack any flair or class. Hardly surprisingly, he developed, over time, into a rather superior being with little regard for anyone not as good as he is, which of course, is just about everyone. Not exactly loveable to his kith and kin, he is nevertheless known as ‘the golden one’ in the family who can do no wrong. Richard is rather full of himself.
On the other hand his sister, Constance, could have come from a different planet. Short and broad, that is to say fat, sporting a moustache to rival Jimmy Edwards or Stalin, her crooked teeth not seen often enough by the dentist makes her immediately unappealing. Her numerous moles, all sprouting luxurious black hairs are the least of her blemishes and some unidentifiable skin complaint does her skin tone no favours either. Even the most charitable person on earth could not describe her as in any way attractive. But she is the one stuck at home looking after aged, ailing and ungrateful parents, aunts and a miscellany of assorted and demanding relatives. She is never too tired or too impatient to see that they are all looked after to the best of her ability. Constance is a kind person.
But she is not appreciated, and despite appearing cheerful, the unfairness of it all chews away deep in her soul. Richard of course is far too high and mighty to help, in fact it never crosses his mind that he should. That is what Constance is for, and didn’t she know it!
Constance has had a really trying day with an ungrateful and incontinent aunt. Constance is not exactly top of her game. She has just taken her coat off when there’s a knock on the door. She opens it, and standing there is her brother Richard.
“Hello, little sister” he says, “Any chance of a cup of tea or something, and perhaps a bed for the night? I’ve just got back from six weeks skiing in Chamonix, and trials for the British Cresta team in St Moritz. I wouldn’t expect you to understand how exhausting that can be, particularly as I’ve been out partying every night – you have to do that to keep your name in the frame.” Richard is not very perceptive.
Constance stared at him for a few moments, and said “My dear brother Richard, lovely to see you, now fuck off.” She slammed the door and broke his nose. Constance felt much better.
Constance’s great act of kindness – to show Richard what she thinks of him, and with such style!
Constance’s great act of kindness – to show her brother what she thinks of him, and with such style!
Even though there wasn’t much dialogue, I found myself laughing out loud at the end when the idea of politeness was given short shrift too.
Great pay off, and we all know a Constance.
Simon says: Given an exercise which asked for a dialogue, this was a little ungenerous with the spoken word. But the approach was justified by the pay-off. The two characters were nicely contrasted and made the point of how enduring family nicknames can be, and how they can affect people in later life. Many prospects have been blighted for women who were brought up being told that they were ‘the pretty one’ or ‘the clever one’ or, very diminishing, ‘the other one’. But Richard in this piece is far too arrogant ever to doubt that he is, as the family have always described him, ‘the golden one’. Certainly, he is when compared to his sister Constance. The writer does not show any mercy in his physical description of her, but we know that her heart is in the right place. She is emblematic of something that happens in many families, where the unglamorous (usually female) sibling is left to care for elderly relatives, while the glamorous (usually male) one is left to get on with his life. The long build-up of Constance’s resentment is neatly expressed – ‘the unfairness of it all chews away deep in her soul.’ And, finally, the worm turns. Constance gets her revenge after a lifetime of drabness, her one brief moment in the sun.