I don’t know what her name was, but my mother called her the Cynical Woman. When I asked my mother what ‘cynical’ meant, she couldn’t tell me, but when she discussed this woman with her siblings or friends, they would refer to her that way.
The Cynical Woman came to my maternal grandmother’s funeral and sat wailing by the coffin, saying how it was a shame that it was the good who died young. My mother later remarked that this was a not-so-subtle dig at this woman’s children who weren’t very nice to her.
My mother told me, some years later, that the Cynical Woman’s husband was a sex maniac. Apparently, he was so insatiable that the Cynical Woman often resorted to locking herself in her bedroom. However, even this did not always stop him. Once, she told my mother, her husband broke down the door with an axe! I suppose it would be difficult not to be cynical when you have such a husband.