by Ruth Hay
“Now, hold on a minute! We have to be sensible about this. Let’s think of your requirements again. Is there anything missing, Val?”
“Well, there’s no direct access to the back. It’s a fine view but not being able to get out for a breath of air might be a disadvantage.”
“Agreed! Let’s look around the side here.”
They walked past the garage and found a narrow walkway between the garage wall and the chainlink fence that denoted the end of the Stone Gates’ property. The walkway allowed access to the grassy area and the wooded slope at the back.
“Oh, lucky you again, Val! You will be able to set chairs and a table out here. You can store the furniture in the garage in the winter. Best of all, no one can see you unless they want to trek through the forest and jump a five-foot fence! I doubt any of your neighbours have this access. Unless you have riotous parties out here no one should care. ”
Valerie’s smile was beaming.
“I think it’s safe to say it now, Rhonda. I love this place. It has a good feel to it and the location is exactly right. What do you think about the price and how long will it take before I can move in?”
“Hold your horses, Val! We need to look at all the items you spoke about before, and see if there’s a match with what is on offer here.”
Valerie tried to calm down enough to think clearly. Her instinct was to tell Ronald to remove the ‘for sale’ sign immediately, but Rhonda, was, of course, quite right.
She thought ahead to Brian and Lynn’s visit. Would she want them to be sleeping in the basement?
The answer was no. A better solution was to give her son free rein of the basement apartment and Lynn could be in the charming little den on a cosy single daybed with Grandma’s special books and toys purchased for her visit. It would seem as if Lynn were her own little girl for a few days and encourage the child to return often when she was old enough.
As for the other rooms, there was nothing requiring major change and plenty of space for minor changes, should these be needed. Some new furniture and carpets and the place would look amazing.
“What do you think, Rhonda?”
“On the whole, it’s an excellent choice for you. I would suggest you consider installing a washer and dryer in the closet in the hall or invest in a chair lift for the basement stairs.”
“What? I don’t need such a thing!”
“You might not now, my dear, but you must look into the future. You expect to live here for many years and it’s always best to be prepared for all eventualities.”
“I’ll have to consider that, I suppose. And there’s the matter of security.”
“While you are considering, I’ll go and have a word with young Mr. Frame. He must be getting anxious by now.”
Valerie stood still and tried to absorb the atmosphere around her. It was remarkably quiet. A faint rustling of leaves from the forest was the only sound she could detect. She took a breath of the air. Not so different from Kilworth. It was hard to believe Commissioners Road was only a few steps away but because of that she would have everything in the city at her disposal including Byron and the amenities of Springbank Park as well as hospitals and shopping centres and cinemas and libraries.
She walked slowly along the narrow passage between the garage wall and the woods. How would it be to live here summer and winter? Not so different from Kilworth again.
Just then, she saw a young deer step daintily out of the shelter of the trees and bend its neck toward the scattered seed on the grass beneath a bird feeder. She stopped breathing and hardly blinked. Was this a sign? As if the animal had heard her thought, it raised its head and its ears twitched once as its dark, liquid eyes found hers. The tableau was frozen in time for a second then the deer sprang away in one swift and fluid motion and was gone from sight.
Time resumed its normal flow and she breathed evenly again.
“More good news, Val! Ronald tells me the present owner is selling most of the furniture and fittings as she needs a lot less in her new place. I don’t think you would want everything, but the newer bedroom stuff in the basement is in great condition and would save you a lot of trouble. She has moved to a hotel for now but hopes to be in her new place in Stratford as soon as possible.
Plus, there’s an active residents’ committee here. They keep an eye on each other’s welfare and there are all the outdoor services for lawn maintenance and snow removal that you could want at a reasonable price. You need have no worries about leaving the place vacant if you are travelling.
Are you listening, Val? You could be installed here within a month, possibly less time. The price is right and you should have a pot of money left from the Kilworth house to last you for the rest of your life.
Shall I put the boy out of his misery and tell him he has earned his commission?”
Valerie heard Rhonda’s voice through a filter. She was still entranced by the encounter with the deer.
Prior to that moment, she had not really been able to visualize herself in a new environment.
She wanted the fresh start, of course, but it was hard to cast aside all the memories and associations of the home that had sheltered her family for so many years.
Now, she knew in her heart that she had made the right decision in selling the Kilworth house. This place had been waiting for her.
Tonight she would phone Brian in Toronto and John in Vancouver then she would contact Sandra, Corinne and Zoe and tell them all the news.
Very soon, she promised herself, she would find an exquisite painting of a deer and hang it in the living room where it would be a constant reminder of the day and the hour when her new life began in earnest.
Arthur Carstairs was sitting in the kitchen on Saturday morning trying to figure out how things could change so fast.
A few short days ago, Carla had been moping around in her old bedroom all day and night with no idea what she was going to do about her marriage to Brad or the shop job she had chucked up on a whim without any thought or warning.
Corinne had been up to high doh with worry, furious with Carla and not doing well herself with the overwork she was suffering through at the hospital. The whole house was in turmoil every hour of the day and night. His own situation was not helping things either. He was stuck with this damn stick for the forseeable future and even Corinne couldn’t give him much hope of resuming his job at construction. There had been worries everywhere he turned with no prospects for improvement this side of forever.
But now? As far as he could figure it, everything began to change for the better after Corinne returned from the holiday in the Lakes. She seemed much more settled in her mind somehow, and she spoke about that Zoe person as if she was a weird kind of guru. He had more than likely missed some of the details, it often happened when there was too much female talk in the house, but the upshot of it all was that Carla had suddenly left for London. He still wasn’t clear on the process but the result was a peaceful house, a calmer wife, and after last night’s lovely cuddle in bed, more news about changes in the wind.
He had known for a long time how hard on his wife the endless round of nightshifts had been. She complained a lot then insisted there was nothing she could do to avoid it. He felt guilty because his accident had severely reduced the amount of money coming into the house. He wished he could have told her to chuck it all but they both knew that was not possible. So, this new idea of hers caught him by surprise. Corinne had made enquiries about a job with the VON nursing association. They were anxious to take her on because of her vast experience and it would mean regular hours and the same medical benefits the hospital had supplied. Right away, it made him feel more secure about the future. The best part, though, was the effect it was having on his wife. He actually heard her singing in the bathroom the other day. He had forgotten what a pretty voice she had. Carla had inherited that from her mother. Her old dad could not keep on tune for two minutes together. He always sat silent on Karaoke nights in the pub no matter how often the guys pro
dded him to step up.
He looked out the window. The rain had not stopped for two days and everything outside looked sodden. It was still summer and the weather would improve soon, he was sure. Things were really looking up as far as he was concerned, weather notwithstanding.
He heard a rattling sound as the lid clanged shut on the mailbox at the front door. It was his job to bring in the mail and deal with the flyers and other rubbish that arrived every day with the local newspaper. He pulled the lot out of the box and hobbled inside before the rain caught him, and dumped the pile on the table. He would deal with it after he had a nice cup of tea and one of those biscuits Corinne was hiding from him on a low shelf. He enjoyed the first go at the newspaper. It was the best part of his day.
An hour later, he folded the sports section with a sigh and wondered if it was worth the effort to get up and make another cup of tea. No, he would wait till lunch time and have it with his bacon butty.
The pile of mail sat accusingly in front of him so he began to sort it into the usual junk pile.
There was a large buff-coloured envelope hiding under some flyers.
Possibly something official? Government business? Nothing good about that. He turned it over to see if there was a government stamp denoting from which department the envelope had originated but, instead, he saw a fancy printed label.
The Excelsior Company. Products for the Exceptional Woman.
London Paris New York
He shook the envelope. Whatever these products were they were not likely inside this envelope.
Then he noticed the address. It was for Corinne. This was none of his business. He put the envelope aside but it would not let go of his mind. There was something nagging at him. Something he was supposed to know.
He looked up at the kitchen clock. His wife might be on a break. He could call her or leave a message. She would know what to do about this. Certain things were above his pay scale, as he often said.
Corinne Carstairs was seated in the staff section of the hospital cafeteria bringing an eager pair of her workmates up to speed with the latest developments in the Carla saga when her phone rang. She was about to ignore it and resume the story. So much nicer to have good news to relate for a change, but it could be something urgent. Arthur might have fallen. On the other hand there might be news about her VON job. She apologized to her audience and answered more abruptly than she intended.
“Yes?”
Arthur caught the impatient tone and cut to the chase. “Something arrived in the mail, Love. It’s from the excellent company out of London and such. Probably nothing, but it looks different from the usual stuff we get.”
There was a moment’s hesitation while Corinne tried to interpret the message. Excellent? Could it be Excelsior, Zoe’s company? He had said London, hadn’t he?
“Arthur, open the envelope quickly.”
“Are you sure? I can hold it till you get home. It’s not for me. I won’t know what it’s…….”
“Arthur!” she commanded. “Open the damn thing now, please!”
There was a rustling and then the scrape of a knife being dragged across the table. Finally there was a pause. She could imagine her husband trying to think how to describe the contents.
“For pity’s sake, Arthur, what’s inside?”
“It looks like some kind of report like the kids used to bring home from school? I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
“Just tell me whose name is on the top of a page.”
“Oh, right! It’s Carla’s name. Now I remember. You said something was coming from London about Carla but you said we’d not bother about it till it arrives next week.”
Arthur was right about that. The fact that this report had arrived early meant one of two possible things. Either Carla had done well, or she was being ejected from the classes Zoe had set up for her. There was no chance Arthur could read the papers to her. She did not have time before she was back on the wards. She would have to contain her impatience until the end of her shift.
“Thanks, Arthur. Please keep the envelope safe for me. Sorry I barked at you earlier. Can you put on some soup later for me?”
“OK, Love. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
Fine would be a good outcome, she thought. There was nothing more to be done. She must wait, and hope there was no catastrophe looming somewhere in the region that would require all hands on deck in the hospital for the rest of the day.
Carla had had a chance to call home only once; the Thursday night she arrived at Zoe’s London loft.
She had a vague memory of promising to call her mother again but that was before she had encountered the most intense day of her life. By the evening of Friday, she was completely wiped. She had given every ounce of her physical, emotional and mental strength to the demands of her teachers. The idea of shopping for groceries and cooking a meal for Zoe fled out of the door as she limped out the taxi and into the elevator to Zoe’s place.
She could not remember if she had eaten all day. There was coffee and a tray of fruit in one of the studios but she was too nervous to eat then. Toward the end of the day, Martin Polk, the agent, was kind enough to buy her a sandwich. She hoped she had been polite enough to eat it. Truly she could not summon the memory. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open as he went through the benefits of obtaining an agent early on in a career in show business. It would have made her laugh out loud if she had the energy. After the day she had been through the idea of professional representation was so far from her mind, and so impossible to contemplate, that she found it ridiculous. Why on earth would Zoe, or whoever, sign her up for this interview so very early in the game?
When Martin Polk finished she was able to summon a weak smile and say thanks but she could not wait to get back into a taxi. How many was that today? How long would the credit card last at this rate?
As she turned the key in the lock she was praying Zoe was not yet home from her work. Speech was beyond Carla. All she wanted was a long, hot shower and bed, as soon as humanly possible.
The lights came on as she entered the loft but there was no noise to indicate another person on site.
“Thank God” she breathed. She walked straight into the bathroom and into the shower which she turned on full blast while still wearing her workout clothes. The warm water streamed down from her head like a blessing and she gradually stepped out of her soaking clothes and left them on the shower floor. It was a quick way to wash them. In any case, not one item could have been worn again without thorough washing. She would throw them all into the washer to spin when she finally recovered her strength.
The one thought that remained in her brain was not about how well, or not, the sessions had gone for her. Of that she had no idea at all. Most of what she had been asked to do was different from anything she might have expected. The movements and vocals she had performed on command did not seem to have any connection to acting or communicating or anything she had ever seen on a screen. As far as she was concerned all she felt in any way confident about was the session in the photography studio when she simply turned this way and that as requested and changed into another outfit to do it all again. Compared to everything else in the day, that session had been positively restful.
She clung to the one good thought. She had done her best. The rest was up to others.
As she wrapped her long hair in a towel and slipped into a thick robe hanging from a hook behind the bathroom door, another good thought occurred. The weekend.
She had two whole days to recover before starting all over again. If she was allowed to start again, that is. She padded into the main lounge ready to open up the bed and slide into oblivion. If Zoe did come home it would take much more than the sounds of one slender woman to disturb her.
She slouched past the island counter on her way to unpack the bedding and saw a note propped up against a bottle of wine. The note was headed CARLA. That caught her attention.
I asked th
e cleaners to arrange a meal for you. I have an appointment this evening.
We’ll talk in the morning.
Zoe.
Behind the bottle was a plate with smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches on brown bread, celery spears, tomato slices and a hard-boiled egg. The plate was garnished with parsley and covered with plastic film.
Suddenly, Carla was ravenously hungry. She fell on the food and demolished every morsel, washing it down with a sharp white wine that was a perfect complement to the salmon. As she ate, she fervently thanked her hostess for her kindness. In what was surely a busy work day for Zoe Morton, CEO of a major company, she had found time to think of the needs of a stranger with whom she had generously shared her home. This treatment went beyond anything Carla could ever have expected. Coming after a challenging and emotional day, she found herself unable to hold back tears although she was glad Zoe would not see this weakness. That lady gave every appearance of being a controlled and dynamic woman. Someone Carla might well decide to emulate in time, if she was lucky.
She washed the plate and glass and stowed them in a cupboard, then brushed out her hair. Just before she retrieved her nightdress from the bedding storage, she remembered to pop her wet workout clothes into the dryer and hang her beautiful borrowed outfit in the bathroom closet. As she did so, it occurred to her how amazed her mother would be if she could see these highly unusual signs of her daughter’s domesticity.
As her head hit the pillows Carla Carstairs was already asleep. Friday and all its trials disappeared.
Corinne rushed home from the hospital at noon on Saturday. All she could think about was the envelope waiting for her. She was puzzled about its contents. Arthur had described a report of some kind but Carla’s first day in London had been a mere twenty-four hours before. How could there be a report this soon?
She realized she was diverting herself from the more worrying thoughts about exactly what the report might say about Carla. So much depended on her success at this new venture but Corinne could not even imagine how that success could have been achieved when her daughter was not truly prepared for such a demanding career. As far as she understood from magazine articles about celebrities, it took decades of work to reach the standards acceptable to movie directors and talent scouts. Carla had little to none of that. It was doubtful if school plays and a few dancing lessons when she was younger would match up to what was required. Corinne could not bear to contemplate what would happen to her girl if this whole idea turned out to be a disaster for her.