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“As for Eve Barton, I must confess I have tremendous sympathy for her situation, Hilary, but she is trouble with a capital T.”

  “I am surprised to hear this. What has brought you to this conclusion?”

  There was no point in sugar coating the truth. Mavis waded right in.

  “She told me she is married to an abuser. You saw the evidence on her face. She is hoping to run away from her husband and take up a new life with us, using money from an inheritance.”

  “Oh my! That is a problem! I take it you are suggesting this man would not be happy with her choice?”

  “As far as I can tell, he knows nothing of her intentions. If we choose Eve Barton we would probably be caught up in a possible legal mess with a violent man and a damaged and cowed woman.”

  Chapter 4

  Jannice O’Connor felt completely out of place in the luxurious car of Vilma Smith. Sitting this closely, she could smell both the new car leather scent and also the expensive perfume the lady wore. Jannice tugged at her ill-fitting, old clothes and tried to cover up the stains on her coat which she feared might contaminate the atmosphere in the warmth of this beautiful vehicle.

  She listened as Vilma commented on the weather, the traffic, the meeting they had both been to and her own situation. Fortunately, Vilma did not require a response from her passenger. Jannice was feeling most uncomfortable. She did not own a car, or fancy clothes. All she had in the world was the ancient furniture in the ancient run-down O’Connor house and an accumulation of the detritus of decades of living that crowded the place with memories that were not all happy. She still felt amazed that she had had the courage to read the advert on the grocery store bulletin board, phone the number, seek out a bus service and actually turn up at the house on the right date and time. It was the first totally independent thing she had done in the last thirty years. For an entire year after her mother died, she had existed in a fog of indecision in the house she detested, and done nothing about her situation. It had taken that long for her to realize she was alone with a future ahead for which she would have to forge a plan.

  Now she had taken the first bold step and she was still undecided. Would these bright, capable women want her with them on a permanent basis? Would the house she had lived in all her life provide sufficient funds for the lifestyle she wished to achieve?

  As Vilma prattled on about her evil stepchildren, Jannice realized she must make a start on clearing out the O’Connor house. Just the thought made her start to sweat. For so many years nothing had been done to maintain 109, Fairset Road. There was a bedroom upstairs used as a repository for anything in the way, or broken beyond repair. Jannice had not been inside that room for a very long time. And then there was the basement piled to the ceiling in parts. Her heart quailed at the thought of all these decisions awaiting her, and yet, at the same time there was excitement at the prospect of creating a more livable space, not for herself, of course. She was finished with that old life. Improvements would be for the new family who would buy the house from her.

  “Don’t you find that to be true, Jannice?”

  She was jolted back to the present and said the first thing that entered her mind.

  “Absolutely!” It seemed to be sufficient to satisfy Vilma.

  Jannice looked around and recognized that she was now close to the Old East London area where she lived.

  As a non-driver, she was unable to give directions to Vilma but she noticed a device on the dash of the car on which a moving plan of the local streets was pointing the driver to her address.

  She quickly exited the car and thanked Vilma for her kindness. She did not want to answer any questions or even accept a ride for the next meeting. She would take the bus again and set out early.

  Taking the keys out of her pocket, she approached the front door with trepidation. After the neat and clean home of Hilary Dempster, she was sure the interior of 109, was going to be a disappointment.

  She opened the door and stepped inside and was immediately assaulted in all her senses.

  Lord help me! I did not realize what was happening in here. I have been living blind for so long. I have been living in a hoarder’s mess without seeing it!

  * * *

  Vilma was not expecting an invitation to Jannice’s home. She would never consider leaving her valuable automobile in such a street, even for a few minutes. Really, it was a miserable looking place of row houses with untidy gardens and windows that badly needed a good scrub. She had heard about London’s Old East but not had any reason to venture there. It was a sketchy sort of place that had undergone a series of changes over the years, all designed to improve its image, but judging from what she saw in front of her, some parts had evaded those attempts.

  She turned and drove off rapidly, wondering how Jannice O’Connor, a woman on her own, would recoup the sum of $100,000 from her unprepossessing property in order to claim a place in the shared home.

  It was not until she had returned to the more affluent streets of Sunningdale, in North London, that she felt at ease again.

  Nothing could be more different than her current residence with its double driveway leading to a spacious garage and the front entrance that wowed visitors and set them up for the grand, high-ceilinged rooms, impressive staircase and amazing décor throughout.

  She took pride in the last of these elements as she had been responsible for the styling of the property when she and Nolan bought this house in the new subdivision several years before.

  As she looked around now, the sparkle had gone from her surroundings. This home was in dispute. Nolan’s children were banding together to contest her husband’s will. She had thought long and hard about her response. She could battle them in the courts for years but she had decided to relinquish the beautiful home without complaining, in a bid to keep the considerable amount of cash Nolan had left to her. The children, now grown adults, could do what they wished as long as they left her to her own devices.

  She foresaw years of arguments over who would occupy this home while she would be free to find a living plan of her own choice. Let them have it. She wanted nothing to do with any of the selfish, stubborn family who had clung to their mother and set themselves against Vilma from the start.

  She kicked off her shoes and climbed the staircase to the master suite and her dressing room closets. Time to decide which of her outfits would go to the consignment store and which she would keep for her new accommodations. She might never have this kind of space around her again for her possessions but she hoped instead for comfort, and company, and far less responsibility. She already liked Hilary’s spark and that quiet Mavis who clearly had more to her than appeared on the surface.

  A new start was overdue for Vilma Smith and that tall set of shelves holding very expensive shoes was the place to begin.

  * * *

  Eve Barton saw her cab waiting for her on a side street, as arranged. She did not want the driver to see the address of Hilary’s house. She had been developing a secretive style ever since she had consulted the bank manager about the inheritance and that sympathetic lady had advised her to open an account of her own, separate from that of her husband.

  Not that Howard Dobrinski was all that interested in his wife’s activities. As long as she had a meal ready when he arrived home from drinking with his buddies, and was there to serve as a punching bag whenever things at work were not to his pleasing, he chose to ignore her.

  It had not always been like this. Before the drinking started, they had a pleasant enough marriage. No better, or worse, than that of any of their former friends. Privately, Eve put the blame on her inability to have children as the start of the downturn. Not that she hadn’t tried. Three debilitating miscarriages in a row had knocked down her confidence and her physical strength. When her doctor insisted on a six month waiting period before she tried again, Howard complained bitterly and cursed the doctor for trying to deny him his rights as a husband.

  Eve felt that was the beginning of her
mental separation from her husband. His lack of concern for her physical wellbeing was like a piece of ice settling in her soul. When he refused to consider adoption saying, ‘He was not about to take on another man’s unwanted brat’ the ice began to grow and the drinking and physical abuse made the gulf between them seem impassible. From time to time she attempted to bridge the gap, but it was too late.

  She retreated from all social events in fear of awkward questions. Soon she was a prisoner in her own home; a prisoner who could not contemplate a future that was so lacking in the warmth of human kindness.

  She was seriously thinking of putting an end to her life when the letter enclosing a cheque arrived.

  At first she thought it must be some wicked joke or a scam of some kind but when no phone calls came demanding money from her, she began to wonder if it might be a miraculous way out of her miserable existence. She made a quick trip to the bank one morning with the cheque in hand and as she stepped out onto the street after her interview with the bank manager, it was as if the sun came out and the birds began to sing and the ice in her soul finally began to melt. It was only a few weeks later, when she saw the advert in the local library, that she could begin to dream of a new life again. But every part of the dream had to be kept completely secret.

  Eve asked the cab driver to let her out at the strip mall where she had called him to pick her up. She paid the fare in cash and quickly walked to a corner store where she bought some groceries in case Howard came home early and quizzed her about her absence.

  To her relief, the house was empty and she was able to sit in peace in her bedroom with the questionnaire in hand and consider her answers. Of course, there was no guarantee she would be accepted now she had told Mavis her secrets, but this escape route was the only one she had found and its existence was the only thing providing her with a reason for living.

  She had taken off her hat and replaced it with a bandanna. It enraged Howard when he saw the scar on her head so she kept it covered at all times. Now that they had stopped sharing a bed, she relished her quiet bedroom and had bought and fitted a sliding bolt at the back of the door so she could ensure her privacy for a few hours. She now slid the bolt home and turned on a bedside lamp.

  The questions were not what she expected. They were far more inventive than any set of questions she had ever seen before.

  What is your hidden talent?

  How much furniture do you actually need?

  Do you have a pet?

  Are you adventurous?

  What is your hobby?

  Do you travel regularly, or wish to do so?

  Would your close family wish to visit you?

  What health issues do you have?

  But the one that made her stop and think, was phrased differently from the others.

  What is your Achilles heel?

  She remembered the story of the Greek hero whose mother immersed him in the sacred river to protect him. She held the child by the heel of one foot as she did so, and that small place on his body became the area of his eventual downfall from a well-placed arrow.

  How did this translate to Eve Dobrinski who had given her maiden name to Mavis who had trusted her? What was her weakness? Was it her inability to act to save her life?

  Sitting in the bedroom where she slept alone and had a listening ear alert at all times for the heavy tread of her husband, she had to smile a thin smile, more like a grimace. Her Achilles heel was surely Howard Dobrinski, the man she had promised at the church altar to love in sickness and in health till death do us part. She had honoured that promise until she could not do it any longer.

  Despite the plans to leave which she had now set in motion, she was not sure she could break the bonds of the promise and leave him forever. She felt huge guilt at even thinking of doing it. And yet, if she stayed, she knew in her innermost heart, one day Howard Dobrinski would surely kill her.

  Would she wait until he made the attempt, or save herself first?

  She stared at the questions without writing a word. Darkness came and the room grew cold but not as cold as her heart felt. It was a moment of decision. She felt tied to the chair until she had made the decision. It was now or never while her head was clear.

  Go or stay, and suffer the consequences either way?

  Go or stay?

  Go or……?

  Go.

  Josette Delacour was happy Vilma Smith had offered to drive the Irish-sounding woman to her home, wherever that might be. She had a lot to think about after the strange meeting at Hilary’s house and her car was as good a place as any for thinking. She had a quick or a slow route home and chose the latter to give her more time.

  She turned the radio down low and with the background music playing she began to talk aloud.

  Sacre Bleu! It really was Hilary Wilson, as I knew her then. Not aging as well as me, of course, but the same bossy personality and fussy ways. I wonder what happened to the husband? How long did he hold out before saying aurevoir forever! And who is the friend? Now she’s a strange one! Staying in the background, but I could tell they were close. How close? Not much chance of coming between those two even if I wanted to….or could. The looks Hil gave me! I did not expect a kiss on the cheek but she could have spoken to me individually instead of ignoring my presence.

  Do I really want to live in a house with Hilary and her partner and that Irish one and the scared little mousy one?

  As for Vilma Smith….she’s unusual, n’est-ce pas! There’s a story there for sure. And the huge car! What a showoff!

  Vraiment! the thought is not very appealing. Hil was always jealous of me. Oh yes, she was! I laughed when whatshisname, John or James something, dropped her like a hot potato when I came on the scene at school. So long ago. Like another century. Alors!, it was another century! Amazing how we are back in touch again.

  I’ll just bet Hil is shaking in her shoes right this minute thinking about the trouble I could cause for her.

  Of course she has no idea what I really want to tell her. She’ll fall off from her high horse when she finds out.

  Ha! I might just stay around for a while to annoy her. It would do Henri some good to think I have a lover somewhere. Serves him right for being such a tight-fisted miser.

  Chapter 5

  Mavis Montgomery said goodbye to her friend Hilary and drove home. She lived on Emery Street, close to the River Thames and to downtown London, in a quaint Ontario Cottage lovingly restored by her husband Pete. There was always a sense of pleasure opening the front door and stepping inside. There was so much of Peter Montgomery here in the character touches he had added to their home. As a talented craftsman in wood and plaster, he had restored the cornices and decorative woodwork of the Gothic style and made artistic roundels on the ceilings to match photographs he found in the Central Library’s archives.

  She loved the home’s simplicity, spacious rooms and one–and–a-half-storey plan.

  What she did not love was the silence; a silence that could not be filled with music or television or occasional visits from sympathetic neighbours.

  Whatever she tried, the silence was deafening.

  She volunteered at the courthouse for a time, despite her retirement from there only a few years before, but found the contrast between those busy hours and the dead air in the cottage to be even more oppressive.

  It was Hilary who rescued her in the end. They first met when Hilary needed advice on how to deal with a particularly recalcitrant teenager who was making her grade 8 classes a misery for their teachers.

  As principal of the school, Hilary had sought help and Mavis Montgomery was recommended.

  The connection between the boy’s behaviour and the number of times his father had appeared in the court system soon provided Hilary with an explanation. Mavis soon devised strategies based on what she knew of the boy’s home life. He had been given too many responsibilities for his younger siblings while his downtrodden mother worked every hour she could, to keep the fa
mily together during her husband’s frequent jail-time absences.

  Together they formed a plan. The boy was excused from some classes and given a coaching role with the physical education teacher, who was universally adored by the boys. This privilege came with responsibilities to keep the gym equipment stored properly, a task that was handed over by the teachers with the greatest relief. Finding everything in its place at the start of a lesson, accorded the boy genuine praise from the school’s staff and set him on the road to success.

  That boy was now a teacher himself and a star athlete of Olympic quality and it was the beginning of a long association between Mavis and Hilary that extended beyond their retirements.

  Hilary’s Mark died of a heart attack and Mavis and Peter stood by her until she had found her feet again.

  The favour was returned after Pete fell from scaffolding on a house renovation, broke his back, and lingered in extreme pain for six long months in hospital. The friendship the two women had cherished, became something much deeper after sharing hours in Pete’s hospital room and anguishing over his inevitable deterioration.

  The entire period had made such a blot on Mavis’s spirit that she was close to a clinical depression for many months and would have sunk beneath that mental weight had Hilary not come up with the idea of shared accommodations for mutual support and companionship.

  At first, they were going to live together in Hilary’s home but after much discussion, they found the house that had been adequate for one was now becoming outdated and requiring significant repairs before it would suit the two women.

  Hilary made enquiries of the local real estate companies and discovered the property had grown in value because of its location near a large new downtown facility as an adjunct of a popular college.

  Apparently such homes as Hilary’s were needed as rental developments in which several students could share expenses while attending classes.