Francis to Frances

It was never my intention to go to live with Aunt Matilda and Aunt May, in New York state five hundred miles east of Arlsberg but when I was offered a place at Uni a short bus ride from their place that Dad suggested I should see if I could stay with them.

Dad always referred to them as Aunt Matilda and Aunt May but actually Matilda is my dad's aunt and May is just her special friend, and they are at least fifty years old and dedicated to each other and dedicated to their local church and it's pastor Pastor Taylour.

Dad made all the arrangements and the first time I really met them as a grown up was when I rolled up on their doorstep off the Greyhound bus one late summer afternoon with all my worldly goods in a couple of suitcases. I knocked the door.

The door opened they both stood there like a a pair of left overs from the nineteen thirties, matching short bobbed dark hair and matching green knee length skirts and knitted cardigans. They looked me over, looked at each other and said "Go away!" and slammed the door.

"But Aunt Matilda, Aunt May, you said I could stay." I protested.

"Frances, are you Frances?" Aunt Matilda asked as they opened the door a crack.

"Sure, can I come in?" I asked.

"No, I'm sorry but, well," Matilda said apologetically, "Frances, we thought you were a girl."

"We cannot possibly have a young man to stay," May explained, "We are two unmarried ladies, the neighbours would surely talk!" she added.

"Hell you promised," I reminded them, "And I'm Francis with an i, I saw you at cousin Ivor's funeral, you must must have known?"

"We did promise," May reminded Matilda.

"Yes sister we did promise, but I thought you were a girl." Matilda reminded her,"Frances is a girls name."

"Look, I won't be no trouble," I said.

"I wont be any trouble," Martha corrected me, "Are you sure, do you promise?" she asked.