Fiction: Mrs. Monday and the Sunday Company

Fiction: Mrs. Monday and the Sunday Company   
Mrs. Caroline Monday was quite comfortable being alone but living in the small village of Query St. James, she could not expect to be left alone for too long.
    This late winter's Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Monday minded very much when the four ladies entered her home. She had her carpets cleaned just yesterday and was a little miffed by the way the ladies didn't bother to wipe their shoes as they stepped inside although Mrs. Manner did slide her shoes back and forth on the hall carpet.
    Still, the meal was cooked and it must not be squandered away just because she didn't like the company for a moment. Often, Mrs. Monday was tired of the ladies and their nerve-wracking ways about their children and relations. If she had her way, she would turn them all to crows and send them to the moon to stay put for a bit while Mrs. Monday rest from their company. But tried as she often did, Mrs. Monday could not hate the ladies. They were her friends whom she was willing to tolerate. Other people, she could not stand and often declined when she was invited to a meal or for tea.
    Mrs. Monday's brisk manners was not noticed by Mrs. Isbee, Mrs. Speck, Mrs. Manners nor Mrs. Quarrel as she served the veggie lasagna. The ladies happily partook the black tea sent to Mrs. Monday from her former daughter-in-law, Laura. Mrs. Monday enjoyed the occasional postcards from Laura's travel but she thought the things she had been given was too much being as Mrs. Monday was no longer her mother-in-law. But Laura did have a rich husband.
    Today, the ladies spoke again of Laura's generosity as they stalled until dessert was ready. Mrs. Monday always baked before the hour the ladies arrived. She kept the ladies from entering her kitchen as it was the only sanctuary she had these days.
    Mrs. Monday stepped out of the kitchen and into the dinningroom with a plate full of bowls of chocolate flavored rice puddings. She announced she had made extra puddings for each ladies to take home. The ladies' delightful smile told Mrs. Monday she had done a proper thing. She had so much hated how the ladies fought over who took home the leftovers far too many times.
    After she served dessert, Mrs. Monday sat down among the ladies. She watched as they munched on the rice pudding. Why she was friends with these ladies, she often didn't know. But with or without them, her home was never going to be the wonderland it was when her husband was alive. Charles was always a bit too nonchalant about everything and yet, he was good company. They had one son, Daniel, who was born after Charles had passed. Daniel was far too much like Mrs. Monday. He was given to being obstinate when he should be agreeable, loud when he should be silent and often, too daring. When he turned eighteen, he left home. Mrs. Monday never regretted letting him go. She knew he would go whether she object or not. Six years later, when Daniel came back, he brought his wife Laura but then he died of a heart attack as if to make a point that he was indeed like his father if only for a short moment.
    Mrs. Speck was talking about tattoos and why her youngest daughter begged her to allow her to get one on her behind. Mrs. Monday pictured Mrs. Speck's youngest bending over while a tattoo artist worked on her behind. A laugh escaped her mouth before she knew what she had done. The other ladies glanced at her. Mrs. Monday didn't explain herself. She simply sipped her tea.
    The ladies often didn't question what Mrs. Monday did. They came to keep Mrs. Monday company - a gesture they thought was very kind. Secretly, they all envied her for not having any children to worry over, nor a husband to disagree with nor relations to bother them and for Mrs. Monday's excellent baking skills. But mostly, they came for her desserts and to find out if Mrs. Monday had any dreams about them.
    It was one of Mrs. Monday's talent or what she called her quirky gift. Often, she would dream, involuntarily, of one of her companions or anyone she knew and their future actions and consequences. The dreams were mostly small matters to Mrs. Monday but somehow to the ladies, they were large and panic-worthy. But it vexed her that she had never dreamt of her son or husband nor anyone she loved.
    "Have you any dreams to depart to us, Mrs. Monday?" asked Mrs. Manners. She was the quieter one that Mrs. Monday liked more than the others.
    Mrs. Monday always waited until the end of the evening to reveal her dreams. It was easier on her nerves and besides that, meals were to be enjoyed without any unlikable things hanging over them as Mr. Monday often said.
    Two days ago, it came to Mrs. Monday in a dream that two of the ladies were about to get a big surprise. Mrs. Monday poured herself more tea and took a sip. Her gift was not shared among the villagers in Query St. James. Although inexplicable things happened around them, they chose to pretend not to see them. Mrs. Monday had wondered if they were better for knowing but sometimes she rather preferred not to have shared her gifts even with these four ladies.
    "Well, I must admit, this one is a bit strange," Mrs. Monday begun. "It involves Mrs. Isbee's' two eldest daughters, Catherine and Rosamond and Mrs. Speck's eldest son Henry. Now I'm not saying it's anyone's fault but..." Mrs. Monday paused. How delicate this was! For these modern times, it was more important to get the right words than to be a coward about it. "Henry lied to the girls and told each of them that the other had spoke lies about her to a certain boy they both liked. The girls poisoned each other resulting in Catherine being gravely ill with a fever while Rosamond's skin grew red spots. But then Rosamond found out Henry lied and threw him down the stairs as they were talking on the second-floor landing of your house, Mrs. Isbee. He broke a couple of bones but mostly, his nose got a bit bended at the tip."
    Mrs. Isbee stared down at her hands while beside her, Mrs. Speck glared at her empty teacup. Mrs. Manners and Mrs. Quarrel both kept their heads down.
    Then Mrs. Speck stood up. "It was your daughters' fault, Mrs. Isbee. They were always mocking him and that's why he played that trick on them!" she exclaimed.
    Mrs. Isbee stood up and turned to Mrs. Speck with eyes wide. "You dare said that, Mrs. Speck? You've always let Henry have his way even when you shouldn't!"
    Mrs. Speck grabbed Mrs. Isbee's hair and in turn, Mrs. Isbee grabbed Mrs. Speck's hair. They turned about topping their chairs and moving away from the table. Mrs. Speck threw a punch at Mrs. Isbee's jaw. The other cried out and then she pushed Mrs. Speck and sent her to the floor. Mrs. Speck got up and threw herself at Mrs. Isbee. They tumbled near the unused fireplace.
  Mrs. Manners and Mrs. Quarrel stood and watched with opened mouths. Each one in turn kept saying, "Oh dear!" while Mrs. Monday sat and sipped her tea. Ladies almost in their 50's shouldn't be fighting like school girls and yet, times like these, there was really nothing anyone could do except to let the ladies had at it.
    At Mrs. Monday's home, she would only tolerate a fight for a moment or two. After more scuffling where a couple of Mrs. Monday's photographs fell to the floor with loud thuds, Mrs. Monday put down her cup and shouted, "Mary! Ellen! Stop this at once! This is my house and I will not tolerate this!" Mrs. Manners and Mrs. Quarrel sat down.
    Mrs. Speck and Mrs. Isbee paused and let go of each other. Mrs. Speck straightened her hair and dress and sat down with Mrs. Isbee doing the same.
    "Now, we must be civilized about this. You still have time to either stop your children or allow them to act as they wanted. They will learn a lesson or two from this, I'm sure," said Mrs. Monday. These events in her dreams almost always took place a week after a dream. She loathed to even think what lessons Henry could learn since he was quite spoiled even beyond Mrs. Monday's help with future knowledge. She didn't like his views anymore in her dreams than outside of it. One bad aspect of these dreams was, Mrs. Monday often dreamt in the point of view of her subjects. It wasn't pleasant as Henry had a rather filthy mind for an eighteen-year-old.
    "You are correct, Mrs. Monday," said Mrs. Isbee. She turned to Mrs. Speck. "We can stop it, Mrs. Speck. It isn't too late."
    Mrs. Speck took Mrs. Isbee's hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't teach my boy better. Will you forgive me?"
    "Yes, of course I will if you will forgive me. What's important now is we talk to our children," said Mrs. Isbee.
    There were a few minutes of conversation and then the ladies left with their leftover rice pudding. Mrs. Monday started on cleaning up. The drama of family life had rarely tested Mrs. Monday but she smiled at the thought of her Daniel. She sighed as she started drying the plates. Time had moved on but she, Mrs. Monday, had been struck in the same place and yet, it wasn't a terrible place.

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This week's Words for Wednesday prompts are: wonderland, squander, brisk, postcards, wait, stall, leftover. More Words for Wednesday over here.