At the factory, the blokes never missed a chance to poke fun at Cyrils surname. The ladies joined in, tooespecially when they heard it for the first time.
So, one morning at the factory gate, a new security guard arriveda woman around forty. As she checked Cyrils pass and glanced at his badge, a grin spread across her face.
Oh! Wigglesworth! Youre having me on, surely?
No, seriously, thats my name, Cyril replied, switching straight to first names since the guard looked a few years younger than him. Its as real as they come.
Honestly, where did that one come from in your family tree, then? Wigglesworth, I ask you!
Cyril was well-used to this line of questioning and had honed his response.
Apparently, ages ago, my great-great-grandmother got up to no good with a poltergeist. Andwellyou can guess the rest. Thats how the Wigglesworth name started.
Instead of laughing, the woman made such a startled face that Cyril nearly cracked up himself.
Are you being serious? she whispered, eyes wide.
Of course, he answered, laying it on thick. All the Wigglesworths have paranormal powersside effect of the ghostly affair. So, best not get on my bad side. You never know: I might pop in tonight for a haunting in my poltergeist form and make sure you dont get a wink of sleep.
With that, she eyed him suspiciously and snapped, Dont scare me! I know how to handle ghosts, you know. Move alongdont hold up the queue!
That evening, Cyril was leaving the factory, and there she was again on the gatethis time, with a thunderous look.
Oi, whats got you in a strop? he teased, always genial.
Im not ducks or love to you. Its Miss Jenkins, she said, almost barking. And stop gawpingoff you go.
Brilliant, Cyril thought as he walked off. Ive gone and made myself an enemy. Shes clearly not got a sense of humour.
The next morning, Miss Jenkins wasnt manning the gate. But at lunchtime, she stormed up to him in the canteenright as he was tucking into bangers and mashand slid onto the bench, hissing so only he could hear.
Alright, Wigglesworth! What did you do last night, then?
Cyril nearly choked on his mash.
Sorry, Miss Jenkins? What are you talking about?
Dont play coy, Wigglesworth. You did warn me not to cross you, didnt you?
What, my little ghostly relative joke?
Exactly! And who was it that grabbed my ankle in the middle of the night?
Grabbed your ankle!?
Yes! There I was, barely drifting off at midnight, when my blanket crawled off bit by bit andbam! Something took hold of my foot. I was half scared to death!
Cyril gaped at her. Youre not suggesting I climbed in through the window and grabbed you by the foot?
I dont know how you got in, do I? But Im sure it was your hand I felt!
My? Maybe it was your husband having a laugh at your expense?
She bristled. What husband? Divorced five years, in case you must know! It was you, plain and simple.
But why me?
Because youre a Wigglesworth, and your gran had a fling with a poltergeist! You said so yourself!
It was a joke, honestly. Everyone else laughs, but you…
Well, thats you done for, she shot back, ready to finish him with a glare. Didnt sleep a wink thanks to you. Every time I nodded off, I thought I heard footsteps and things moving.
It was all in your head, honest, Cyril insisted gently. Wasnt me, scouts honour.
But Miss Jenkins shook her head. Oh no, Wigglesworth. Not getting out of it that easy. You started this, now you can see it through.
Excuse mewhat, precisely?
Youre not married, are you?
Erm, no, but
Good! That settles ittonight youre staying at mine.
Beg your pardon?
Youre coming over after your shift, so you can deal with your so-called relatives and I can get some shut-eye. Its the least you can do, seeing as youve frightened the life out of me!
Ideal with my relatives?
The Wigglesworth ghosts! Im scared of the dark now, but cant sleep with the light on. You come over, have some dinner, and you stand guard in my bedroom till morningnine oclock Ill wake you. Simple.
Lets just say that after that night, Cyril never left Miss Jenkinss side again. Turns out, beneath her nerves and ghostly worries, she was a smashing womancaring, and, dare one say, rather affectionate. And really, what more could a man ask from a woman? Just a bit of tenderness and someone who (sort of) believes in your family legends. Nothing else needed.
