We were silent for the rest of the journey home.
The day had warmed enough that a light salad lunch was just the thing. Any more and I might have succumbed to the afternoon nap that was beckoning seductively. Alan was looking a little less than bright-eyed and bushy-tailed too, but he was polite when John outlined the program for the afternoon.
‘This will be a driving tour, because I expect you’ve had enough walking for the day. There won’t be any sinister sites this time. I want you to get a general impression of Victoria’s neighbourhoods, from the elegant to the slightly tacky.’
‘I doubt I’ll remember how to get from place to place,’ Alan protested. ‘Even with the map, when I could wrest it away from my dear wife this morning, I’ve become hopelessly confused.’
‘Not surprising. The trouble is that this is an island. No matter which direction you look, there’s water, and it’s disorienting. Add in a number of bridges, and streets that run on the diagonal, and some that change names from time to time, and I don’t wonder you’re confused.’
‘Actually, it sounds just like home,’ I said, looking mockingly at Alan. ‘You couldn’t understand why it took me so long to learn my way around Sherebury, which’ – I added for John’s benefit – ‘is a medieval town with streets that run in every possible direction and change names and end abruptly and street signs that are posted on the corners of buildings, if at all. Throw in a meandering river and lots of hills and a great hulking university built by someone who knew nothing about urban planning. I think I’d better do the navigating when we go out on our own, John. Victoria is much like where I grew up in Indiana, and child’s play compared with almost any English town.’
‘You’re showing off, dear,’ said my loving spouse, ‘displaying your superior knowledge of North American traffic patterns. Be careful, or I might take you up on your offer. And I haven’t forgotten our visit to Indiana some years ago, when you headed down the wrong side of the road a time or two.’
We were not alone. I refrained from sticking my tongue out at him, and we climbed amicably into John’s car for our tour.
The only impression I retained at the end of the day was that, indeed, Victoria was a lot like the place where I spent the first sixty or so years of my life. There was a university that reminded me quite a lot of Randolph, back in my hometown. There were several community colleges. The houses were similar, though somewhat more crowded together. John explained that Victoria was growing by leaps and bounds, and we could see large blocks of new condos all over the place. The area was laid out in blocks, for the most part, just like home, though there were a few meandering streets harking back to centuries-old paths.
‘The traffic will be much heavier in a couple of weeks,’ John told us. ‘Canada Day is on July 1. It’s a bit like your Fourth of July.’
‘It’s when Canada was founded, then?’
‘Sort of. The three provinces that comprised what is now Canada were united on July 1, 1867, into one Dominion. Of course actual unification took a much longer time, given the various groups with varied agendas.’
‘And then there’s Québec,’ I said, giving it the French pronunciation.
‘Indeed. If I remember my history of the States, the Declaration of Independence didn’t quite establish your country as a harmonious whole either, did it?’
‘No, it was the Constitution that did that. More or less. And then there was the Civil War – oh, for Pete’s sake, let’s get off history. What happens on Canada Day? Picnics and parades and fireworks, like at home?’
‘And concerts. But the famous concert, called Symphony Splash, happens later, on the first Sunday in August. A stage is set up down by the harbour, the Victoria symphony performs, and thousands of people come. It all ends with the “1812 Overture” and fireworks. The point is to celebrate British Columbia Day the next day. And here in Victoria, a number of groups including representatives of the First Nations and the Chinese community are involved. Not just on the actual day, but for months leading up to it.
‘And speaking of the Chinese community, here we are at the entrance to the official Chinatown. Very few of the Chinese actually live here now, but some of the shops and restaurants remain as tourist attractions. And there’s an intriguing little passageway that we’ll explore on foot one day. It’s nothing like wide enough for vehicles, barely wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side.’
We wandered. I gave up trying to figure out where we were and just enjoyed looking. Some of the scenery was truly spectacular. There were little parks dotted here and there, most of them with views of one harbour or another. One of them was alive with birds of all sorts, ducks and geese and songbirds.
‘Look, Alan!’ I pointed excitedly. ‘There’s a robin! The American kind, not like your little English ones. I didn’t know they lived in Canada, too.’
‘Very common here,’ said John. ‘We have quite a varied population of birds, from hummingbirds to eagles.’
‘Oh, I love eagles! They’re so majestic. And yes, I know they’re birds of prey, and fierce, and all that, but they’re beautiful.’
My attention was caught by a water bird I didn’t know, and I asked John about it.
‘Oh, you’re lucky!’ he said, laughing. ‘That’s the official bird of Canada – the Loon – though they’re very seldom found in the city. Our dollar coins are even called “loonies”, for the picture on the back.’ He pulled a couple out of his pocket, which reminded me that we needed to stop at an ATM and get some Canadian money.
We moved on to another area, and some of the cityscape, by contrast, was, as John had said, a bit seedy. I was startled to see a couple of shops openly advertising marijuana.
John saw my reaction. ‘Yes, pot was legalized for recreational use across Canada not too long ago. It was simply an acknowledgment of what had long been a fact. The pot shops have been here, pretending to dispense the stuff purely for medicinal use. Now the pretence has stopped. Whether it’s a good idea or not …’ He shrugged. ‘Time will tell, I suppose. Meanwhile it’s made crossing the border a bit trickier, since pot is legal in some states, legal only for medical use in others, and still officially illegal by federal law everywhere in the US.’
Alan nodded. ‘And in the UK. The law is widely ignored, of course, which in my view makes it a bad law. Times are changing, and we may soon see cannabis legalized, or at least decriminalized. There’s a good deal of opposition to the idea, though.’
‘I think part of the rationale here was to concentrate on far more dangerous drugs, like fentanyl, which is now the worst drug problem in Canada. Such a small amount will kill, and it’s cheap and therefore readily available.’
‘I suppose it’s smuggled in by boat,’ I said looking out at a body of water (I wasn’t sure which) that was alive with sailboats and kayaks and small launches.
‘Actually, most of it comes by mail from China; you can buy it on the Internet, advertised as shipped in “detection-proof” packaging. Death by post.’
That was such a distressing thought that we were silent for the rest of the trip.
FOUR
‘Now,’ said John when we’d sat down in his living room, ‘this evening my fiancée is joining us for dinner, and I’d planned to take us to one of my favourite restaurants. Would you prefer seafood or Greek?’
Alan and I consulted with a glance. ‘Either,’ I said. ‘There’s no good Greek restaurant in Sherebury, and oddly enough, seafood is scarce in most of England, even though we’re so close to the sea. Except for fish and chips, of course.’
John laughed. ‘Well, we run more to salmon here. You’ll find it on almost every menu, so tonight let’s go Greek.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And you’ve plenty of time for a nap, if you like.’
‘I didn’t want to admit that I’m dragging … but thank you! You’ll wake us in time?’
I don’t know if it was jet lag, still, or just plain age, but I was asleep seconds after I stretched out, and was a bit
groggy when Alan nudged me in what seemed like minutes. ‘You’ve been out for nearly two hours, love,’ he said, ‘and John’s fiancée just arrived. You’ll want to wash your face and comb your hair.’
That brought me wide awake. ‘Oh, good grief, and I need to change clothes.’
‘John said not,’ Alan soothed. ‘The restaurant is very casual. Apparently most of Victoria is casual in the summer.’
‘Yes, but I’m meeting this woman for the first time. I don’t want her to think I’m a scruffy hick from the backwoods.’
There wasn’t much I could do about my hair, which had decided to fly in every direction, but I did a quick face-wash and put on an attractive top, and when I saw John’s beloved I was very glad I’d made at least that much effort.
‘Dorothy, I’d like you to meet Amy Hartford. Amy, Dorothy Martin. You’ve met Alan.’
She was lovely, and faultlessly groomed. Her silver hair was smooth in a Dorothy Hamill sort of cut that made me immediately conscious of my cut-it-to-keep-it-out-of-my-face style, if it could be called a style. She wore no make-up except a little lipstick, but neither her skin nor her sparkling blue eyes needed enhancement. She could have been any age, but I was guessing late fifties, if only because I knew she had a grown-up daughter.
Some people, like me, wear casual clothes to protect them from the elements and preserve modesty. Some look like they just came out of an ad for ‘casual chic’. This woman’s slim jeans and colourful shirt weren’t overly new, weren’t pretentious, but they made me very aware of my shortcomings.
She held out a hand and smiled. ‘May I call you Dorothy? I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you and your husband, I feel I know you.’
The words were pleasant, but hardly remarkable. Maybe it was the smile, or the warmth. At any rate, I stopped feeling like a poor relation and smiled back.
‘Right,’ said John briskly. ‘Now, what will everyone have to drink? Dorothy, Judith’s told me you like bourbon, and Alan, yours is Scotch, yes? Or there’s wine, of course, or orange juice.’
We got that settled and sat down with our drinks, and then there was the awkward pause that ensues when people who don’t know each other well, or at all, try to find something to talk about. It was Amy who found it.
‘Now we have to talk about your move to my daughter’s place. John says he’s told you about that.’
‘Yes, but it seems a terrible imposition,’ I said apologetically.
‘It’s not, so don’t worry,’ Amy said firmly. ‘Sue and I will both feel better about her house if someone’s living there. And the car needs to be driven. So it’s just a question of your preference. I know you hadn’t bargained on taking on that responsibility. But John and I thought it might be easier for you if you had complete freedom to go where you like and do what you want while you’re here.’
‘We’re most grateful,’ said Alan, ‘but may I ask where the condo is? In what part of town, that is. As we don’t know the area at all, I want to make sure we won’t get lost.’ He grinned at me. ‘My wife seems to think I’ll be hopeless at driving in North America.’
They both laughed at that. ‘It’s easy to get lost,’ said Amy. ‘I’ve done it myself a time or two. But her place is easy to find. In fact’ – she stood and went to the window – ‘you can see it from here. Not Sue’s particular unit, but the complex.’ She pointed. ‘Easy access, and there’s plenty of parking.’
‘We’ll stop by after dinner,’ said John. ‘Speaking of which – is anybody hungry?’
Over dinner we talked about jobs. Almost every conversation among new acquaintances hits the subject early on. ‘What do you do for a living?’ may be a rather crude question, but it’s a good start on learning about a person.
Three of us, of course, were retired. Amy, a bit younger than John, was still working at her job with the public library. ‘Only part-time now, though. I’ve tried to retire altogether, but they won’t let me. They’ve been advertising for a replacement for ages, but they say they can’t find the right person.’
‘Are they looking for someone with an advanced degree in library science?’ Alan asked. ‘I’d think, with several universities nearby, that wouldn’t be too hard a match.’ He forked a chunk of lamb, so tender it nearly fell apart.
‘Oh, they can find a DLS any time they want one, but it’s a little harder to get a good IT person. That’s what I do, manage information technology for the Victoria library system.’
I was impressed. I can use a computer. I look up stuff and write emails and – true confession time – waste a great deal of time playing FreeCell. But when something goes wrong, I head straight to my friend Nigel, who is (a) young, and (b) the IT coordinator at Sherebury University. He usually shows me how I could have straightened things out on my own, and I listen politely, not understanding a word. I am in awe of people who can make these magical machines turn handsprings. ‘Gosh,’ I said, sounding like a kid. I felt like one. ‘I think people who can do what you do are amazing. My brain doesn’t work that way.’ I chased the last bit of moussaka around my plate.
‘Oh, it’s just a matter of training. And experience.’
‘But I’m surprised – oh, yes, I’ll have some baklava, please, and decaf – but I’m surprised, Amy, that they can’t find someone to replace you, or at least to fill the position.’ Alan cocked an eyebrow. ‘Again, the universities must be turning them out by the cartload.’
‘The same for me, please. Yes, Alan, they are. The trouble is, Victoria has become a centre of the technology industry. There are any number of firms here clamouring for hot new geeks, and of course they can pay far more than a public library. So all the best people go straight to them, and I’m left to struggle along until someone turns up.’ She finished her retsina and allowed the waiter to take her plate and glass. ‘I have tried – well, as it happens, I have a–an acquaintance in one of the big firms. I thought he might be able to toss a crumb or two our way, but …’ She shrugged.
John was frowning. Well, not quite that, but he didn’t look quite happy, and it took him a moment to notice the waiter at his elbow. ‘Ah, yes, why don’t you bring us a plate of the pastries? We can choose what we like and take the rest home for a wildly incorrect breakfast. And a pot of decaf, as well.’ He rearranged his face into its usual jovial expression, and I wondered if I’d imagined his earlier annoyance, or whatever it was. ‘Now, we need to decide what we’re going to do tomorrow.’
The conversation was steered firmly away from Amy’s work.
We drove past Amy’s daughter’s condo, which was indeed easy to find, on a main street with an adequate car park. The car we were to be lent, Alan and I were both relieved to discover, was a mid-size sedan, a couple of years old, in a staid dark blue – nothing that looked hard to park, or threatened excessive power. We decided to make the move in a day or two, when John had showed us a few more of Victoria’s attractions. When we got back to John’s house, Amy gave us the keys to house and car, noted down our phone numbers just in case, and wished us well.
‘And what was all that about?’ I demanded of Alan when we’d gone up to our room.
He didn’t need to ask what I meant. Years of police work have made him an observant man. ‘The little awkwardness about the search for Amy’s replacement? John didn’t like the mention of her IT friend, did he? I wonder why.’
‘I think he doesn’t like the friend, for some reason. Only Amy called him an “acquaintance”, which might mean almost anything.’
Alan yawned. ‘We’re probably making something of nothing. ’Night, love.’
Once again we woke very early. We were gradually adjusting to the time difference, but we weren’t there yet. John had coffee ready, and we ate some of the delectable Greek pastries. ‘Why is it that guilty pleasures are so sweet?’ I mused, licking honey off my lips, and then ducked at the groans. ‘I didn’t mean it, I swear. Didn’t even hear it coming.’
‘Where are you taking us today, John?’ a
sked my husband, polishing off a couple of kourabiethes, the Greek version of Mexican wedding cakes, buttery clouds of powdered sugar that dusted his shirt liberally.
‘If you’re ready for rather a long jaunt, I thought we might go up north. There’s a raptor sanctuary about sixty miles away, and since you said you’re fond of eagles, you might enjoy it. They have all sorts – eagles, hawks, falcons – and it’s rather fun to watch them fly. You can even hold them, if you like.’
‘Um … but aren’t the talons …?’
‘They have gauntlets for you to use, and the birds are very well trained. They won’t damage you, I promise.’
Well, the idea of holding one of those fierce, proud birds appealed to me, and Alan was agreeable.
‘There’s actually a reason why I want you to see the birds,’ John said as he loaded the dishwasher, ‘another disturbance, one Judith doesn’t know about, because it happened just recently. I’ll tell you about it on the way. Just another apparently pointless nuisance, though it could have been much more serious.’
He chose to take us the long way round, through dense forest land, on narrow winding roads that originally served as logging roads. ‘This is mostly second-growth,’ he said, ‘though there’s still some virgin forest left. Logging has been a big industry here for generations, but they’ve been smart about it. No clear-cutting, and always re-planting.’
‘Are they pines?’ I asked. I’m fairly ignorant about evergreens, coming from a part of Indiana where there are very few conifers of any kind.
‘No, Douglas firs, most of them. They’re a dominant species in this part of the country. Which is of course appropriate, in a way.’
Alan frowned. ‘Why “of course”?’
‘Oh, do you not know about James Douglas?’
We both shook our heads.
‘Goodness, he’s the founder of Victoria! He was with the Hudson’s Bay Company, built Fort Victoria, governed Vancouver Island and later the colony of British Columbia – oh, he’s the principal figure in our history. The oldest part of Victoria is called James Bay after him; he had a mansion there. Now the tree was not named after him, but after one David Douglas, a Scottish botanist. But so many place names hark back to old James Douglas, and the trees do proliferate here, so it’s a nice coincidence, don’t you think?’
Death in the Garden City Page 3