Fantasy House

by Ruth Hay

  That kept him busy for several days but once the mess was cleared away, the entire empty month of November lay in wait for him. More than a weekend without heavy physical work and he was in danger of falling into a dark hole from which he feared he might never emerge.

  He cleaned his equipment and watched the skies for sudden snow storms but all was calm. He circulated flyers asking for tree trimming work but others in London had bigger companies than one lone man could compete with. He sat at home gazing out of the windows and thought he would soon go mad without a project.

  He thought back to the days of his last rescue. The business opportunity had come to him by chance at a very low moment. He was eating alone in a local café when he spotted an ad on the paper placemat in front of him.

  Gardening business for sale. Equipment and storage facility included.

  He called the number at once. He had lost the house when his wife divorced him and things were getting desperate. What friends he had left were tired of seeing him sleeping on their sofas.

  The old man who advertised, was leaving London to live with his son and family. The gardening business equipment was housed in a big old barn and was in good condition. What interested Andy even more at first, was the small, yellow-brick farmhouse next to it. The owner was surprised when he asked about it. He scratched under his ball cap and looked puzzled.

  “Don’t know what you’d be wantin’ with that, a young guy like you. It’s a broken down old place. The farmer who once owned all this sold it to me for a song. I don’t even live here anymore. It’s on flood plain land. Too near the river. Worth nothing nowadays. Thought you wanted the gardening equipment?”

  Andy’s mind was racing forward. This could be his new start. He still had his disability severance money.

  The old guy might accept a payment scheme through a bank. Working outdoors had an appeal for him. It would be hard physical work.

  His own boss.

  If all went well he could fix up the farmhouse and have a place to live far from everything, and everyone, he had known.

  The old man had seen desperation in his time. He did not need to know this young fellow’s story. It was enough that he was willing to take on all this and pay for it. The deal was done quickly with trust between two men who immediately had respect for each other. A handshake and a phone number were all it took to finalize the transfer. The paperwork, such as it was, soon followed.

  “I wish you good luck, lad. It’s a lonely spot but beautiful in its way. Make friends with the river creatures and you’ll see what I mean. Fare thee well.”

  It was to be the salvation of Andrew Patterson. Endless hours of repairing walls and floors in the old house soon made it weatherproof. The roof was of hand-made slate tiles and heavy enough to withstand any winds, leaving him free to work on the interior through one long winter. The windows were mostly intact and the old man’s kitchen appliances came with the sale as well as an iron bed frame and various wooden furniture pieces. It was sparse but adequate. He wasted no time comparing this with the comfortable home he had shared with Tracy. That was in the past.

  This would be his future.

  And now, this Fall, the feeling of desperation was close by once again. What unexpected event could save him this time as the advert had done once before?

  For sure he had the house, the barn and the business. He would never be that vulnerable again but he had to keep tight control over his mind.

  What could he do to fill in the time until the snow removal season began?

  His thoughts ranged over his gardening clientele. Was there something he could offer to do during this down period?

  Most of the homeowners were wealthy enough to have professionals to call upon when things went wrong. He was an amateur who had learned gardening by trial and error. He was not equipped to do more than basic household tasks and there were others much more skilled in the market.

  His troll through the list of clients reached the crescent in Westdel Bourne. Didn’t Mavis of Harmony House mention the need for a bin to be built in order to harvest the fallen leaves from the woodland so they could be converted into soil for her garden?

  It wasn’t much. A place to start?

  From here his thoughts turned to Vilma Smith and those dogs of hers. He rarely saw her on Wednesdays now. She had learned what she needed and handled the dogs pretty well for a woman.

  The Australian Shepherds. Astrid and Oscar. A good pair. Trainable perhaps?

  It was risky for him. It might bring back memories. But a good project for now and into the winter afternoons. Snow removal happened in the early morning. He could offer the driveway clearing service to Harmony House and contact Vilma to see how she might feel about the other thing.

  His spirits rose. A focus. Forward thinking. A plan. He put it into motion immediately.

  It was a freezing cold morning. November was swerving between bright, cold, and sunny days and icy, windy days with morning frost. She had a quick cup of coffee in her room but it did nothing to convince her to wake up and take the dogs out. There was no denying the necessity, however.

  You got yourself into this situation Vilma, and now you have no escape!

  She dragged on her warmest outfit and fastened up the hood over her hair. Her leather, warmly-lined boots were in the closet by the front door where she kept the towels for drying the dogs. She pushed her feet into slippers and, as soon as she stood erect, the dogs were there by her side. No question that they knew what to expect by now.

  There was icy frost on the grass lawn and a sprinkling of snow fell from the leaden sky.

  She shivered, then took a deep breath. She would venture as far as the stream in the woods. Going this far would be impossible once the real snow started. There were too many uneven ground levels and snaking tree roots to trap her feet. A broken leg from a bad fall would make looking after the dogs almost impossible. She had no intention of asking any of the women to take on her tasks. The dogs were her own choice and responsibility.

  Astrid and Oscar did not object to a short walk in the morning. They knew there would be more exercise later in the day when the sun was fully up. Once away from the gardens and into the trees, they could be free to run. Sometimes a rabbit would jump out and a great chase would ensue. Squirrels were not much sport as they quickly climbed up the nearest tree but barking a warning at them was also fun.

  Their mistress would allow them to go as far as the stream. It was their boundary line. Verbal promises had been made regarding fording the stream and investigating the deeper woods but that was not to be until next spring. They had seen the big brown deer with the white tail and they could wait for now.

  Vilma had found online a pair of deerskin mittens lined with fur and these she used as a gauge of the cold. When her fingers inside the mittens began to tingle she called up the dogs, fastened their leash and quickly headed back to the house.

  When the trio reached the gardens, Vilma was surprised to see Andy’s battered old truck parked in front of the garages. She was sure it was not Wednesday, so why was he here today?

  The answer came when he jumped down from the truck and met them at the front door.

  “May I speak with you, Miss Smith?”

  “It’s Vilma, remember?”

  He inclined his head and signalled to the porch where the last two lonely chairs waited to be stored for the winter.

  “Oh no! it’s too cold to sit out here. Come inside. We can sit by the fire in the dining room. It’s much more pleasant.”

  He stopped to greet the dogs who were eager to feel his touch. They never barked at Andy Patterson. He was a friend.

  Andy insisted on removing his heavy boots. While Vilma was doing the same and tending to the dogs’ feet, she noticed a hole at the toe of his socks.

  Who looks after him? Does he have a wife or an elderly parent in the background? I really know next to nothing about this man.

  She wondered why it had never occurred to her to ask hi
m about his personal life. Truly, he was a man who discouraged any questions. He was all business when with the dogs and she thought of him as a teacher, not a friend.

  Andy watched Vilma take off her coat and hang both coats in the closet. Clearly, she had invested in good, quality clothing for the outdoors. She had an expensive ‘system’ coat with layers that could be added or removed in different weathers.

  She was more fit than when he first saw her. Her arms were toned and she seemed to have lost weight. It suited her. Dogs will make you fit, as he knew well.

  It was his first time inside Harmony House. It was a big house with a modern look that contrasted with the classical exterior. The dining room was elegant and could accommodate a seating area by the fireside as well a sizable table and eight chairs of different styles. It was the type of house Tracy would have liked. He shut that errant thought down instantly.

  Do not go there!

  Vilma Smith was saying something about how the women found the house. She switched on the fire and gas flames licked around the ceramic logs bringing heat and light to the room. Astrid and Oscar settled in front of the fire and their heads turned from man to woman, according to who was speaking.

  “What can I do for you, Andy?”

  “Ah, this is more about what I might be able to do for you and the dogs.”

  “Intriguing! Please go on.”

  “I believe your dogs could be a good pair for dog trials. There are many societies promoting working dogs and their skills. If you are interested, I would do the training at my barn and if they prove to be proficient we could look further.”

  He stopped and waited for her response.

  Vilma was astonished. Dog trials? Training?

  She thought this could be an answer to her own concerns about keeping the dogs active over the winter months but what exactly was involved, and did she want to get involved with this stranger?

  Good with dogs, without a doubt, yet still a stranger to her.

  “Tell me more.” She hoped for more time to figure out what to do.

  Andy explained the process of setting up a basic challenge course and gradually making the tasks more difficult in order to assess the possibilities of entering competitions.

  “I can do jumping and crawling challenges quite easily. Astrid is particularly good at recognizing hand signals and Oscar will follow her.”

  “But I thought herding was the skill of Australian shepherd dogs? Wouldn’t that be what was needed to showcase them?”

  “You are quite right. That training would come later, perhaps in the spring. The farmer on the land near me has a good-sized herd of goats. He might be willing to let us work with them.”

  It was the second time he had used a plural. Was it possible he meant to include her in all this work?

  As she considered the alternative, she realized she was not willing to relinquish her dogs into the hands of any man, not even one as capable with dogs as Andy Patterson.

  “Well, this is unexpected. I will have to think about it. It’s an interesting proposition, Andy. I’m sure the dogs would love it. We might try a session or two and see what happens. Would that suit you?”

  “Very well! I am working in the garden this morning making a compost bin for Mrs. Montgomery.

  If you have any further thoughts, let me know.”

  With that he was off about his business leaving Vilma with a host of questions and not a little curiosity.

  She summoned everything she knew about Andy Patterson. It was not much.

  Good with dogs. Did he not say he worked with police dogs at one time?

  A hard worker. He never missed a week all spring and summer and the lawns were always immaculate.

  Tall and strong. Now that she had been sitting close to him she could see not only his muscled body and dark green eyes in a tanned face, but she noticed he was not as young as she had presumed. There were wrinkles around the eyes caused by sun exposure, perhaps, but that could also be caused by strain of some kind.

  Secretive. She knew next to nothing about him. Could she trust this man to take her and the dogs to a barn somewhere? If she agreed to his plan, there was the comfort of knowing Astrid and Oscar would defend her to the death. Not a nice thought, but these days a woman could not be too careful. There were dreadful stories of kidnapping and capture. For the first time she acknowledged that her desire for a dog was not completely altruistic. As a woman who had sworn off men forever, it was good to have a companion animal, or animals in her case, by her side for protection.

  She felt she was gradually coming around to accepting the training offer.

  At the very least she would see where Andy Patterson lived, and with whom. She doubted much more than that would be revealed by this secretive and private man.

  Chapter 20

  Hilary was looking at her calendar. Christmas was approaching fast. It would be the housemates’ first Christmas together at Harmony House. Would they spend it together or would some choose to go elsewhere for the holidays?

  She thought back to the days at Camden Corners when the group first gathered there. She remembered a questionnaire and lots of discussion but she could not recall anything about religious affiliations. It was possible that some of the women were not religious, or did not celebrate the birth of Christ. It was a personal issue, of course, and Hilary did not intend to go around asking if there was an atheist in the house.

  None of my business, but I will have to make plans and see who responds.

  This brought to mind the question of Desmond. Did she want to invite him to spend time with her?

  Not a good plan. His first visit was not exactly successful. I can’t see him around the dining room table again with our female group and there’s nowhere here for him to sleep. The guest room is firmly Faith’s, now, and until she moves on. That means there is no space for any other invited guests.

  Reserve a party room in a restaurant? This would give Eve a break.

  Choices. Choices.

  Whatever we decide to do will establish a new tradition.

  Hilary tabled the matter for the next Sunday dinner meeting but there remained a niggling question in the back of her mind related to celebrations. What was it?

  She glanced over the calendar again and after several puzzling minutes she tracked down the peculiarity.

  There were no birthday dates marked on her calendar. None. Not one.

  For herself, she had long ago given up doing anything to commemorate another year passing and her age growing exponentially. Mavis would have preferred to take her for lunch or something to mark the day but she convinced her closest friend that it was unnecessary. Two women attempting to celebrate a birthday together always seemed to Hilary to underscore the lack of a man in their lives.

  But how did the others feel about this?

  Was this the time to introduce the matter or was it better to let it lie and allow everyone to do what they preferred individually?

  The vision of Eve creating seven different birthday cakes flew into her mind and she rejected that vision as totally unfair. Eve did enough. The number of candles on some of the cakes might cause a fire!!

  Note: Ask Jannice to check on all fire detectors and security systems. Honor can call the elevator company.

  As adults, we can make our own decisions about birthdays but what about Faith? The girl will be fifteen on her next birthday. Has it passed already? Does Honor even know the date of her niece’s birth?

  Faith deserves a special day. She is working so hard at school as well as meeting all her other obligations.

  This would be a chance to give her the praise she is due.

  Faith now topped the list. Hilary would immediately talk to Honor about this. If, indeed, they had missed Faith’s birthday, note must be made to amend this in the next year and also, she considered, Faith’s arrival in the house means Christmas must be made special for her, even if no one else cares to make a big fuss.

  Faith Joan Jeffries, k
nown as J.J. at school, looked at her image in the washroom mirror in her room at Harmony House and hardly recognized herself.

  Who was this clean, tidy, student-type person? This person with friends, an aunt, and a group of unrelated older women at her back all the time? A person who attended school every darn day and rarely skipped a class to go over to the mall? Who brought lunch to school and could have sold it to admirers but who never did? Who was she?

  Where was the green-tipped hair and the outrageous eye make-up, the skanky torn clothes, more rips than cloth? Where were the nails, bitten down to the quick and still displaying black, chipped polish?

  None of her pals in Nova Scotia would recognize her now. The Instagram photos had stopped coming since she had neither the time nor the inclination to stage something the others back home would recognize as the old Faith. Text messages were fading for the same reason.

  Also fading were her memories good and bad. She could hardly recall her mother’s face. The hospital image of her gaunt, ravished body was superimposed over happier times when they laughed together at the latest trick pulled on unsuspecting store personnel, and made a half-decent meal from the ‘expired foods’ shelf in the supermarket. Occasionally, when her Mom was working and not on drugs, they would eat at Macdonald’s and pile on the free condiments until the thin little burger was overflowing with pickle and ketchup and laugh themselves silly at the mess.

  Oh, Mom! If only you had told me about your sister, we could have had a better life and you would not have been so alone. I can’t think what it must be like to have a twin and be separated from her. Honor is different from you. She doesn’t say much about herself but I can see how hard she works and there’s not much she doesn’t know about computers. I can’t imagine you two together for years and years when you were kids. Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why was life so hard for us?

  I look around at this fantastic home where women help and encourage each other every day. There are good people in the world, Mom. They are not all cheats and thieves like you said. Why couldn’t we have found some of these good people to help you kick the drugs?