by Ruth Hay
Anna had discovered long ago one of the advantages of living alone. Nothing moved from its place during her absence and nothing was in anyone else’s way if she chose to be untidy. Leaving the letters and magazines where they lay, she stepped into her living room, switching on the lamps as she moved to the window and closed the drapes against the night.
Home sweet home, at last.
Chapter Two
“What on earth is this?”
Anna read the paragraph again without any further understanding.
……………therefore, we are apprising you of the transfer of ownership of said property and wish to hear from you at your earliest convenience regarding your instructions for sale or other disposal.
Please accept our condolences on the death of your relative and feel free to consider our firm your representative in Scotland, should you be requiring of our services.
Sincerely,
George L. McLennan.
Thompson McLennan and Baines.
Oban, Scotland.
The envelope, thrown into the garbage can next to the sofa a moment ago with all the other superfluous mail items, was hastily recovered as Anna checked the address.
The letter appeared to be for her but did not make any sense.
It is too early in the morning to cope with mysterious stuff, she thought, with a shake of her head.
Who was this relative and what property was referred to in the lawyer’s letter?
Another reading revealed the name of the deceased as Helen Dunlop, spinster, aged 87 years residing alone at McCaig House Farm on the outskirts of Oban.
Anna had never heard of this Helen Dunlop and had no clue where Oban might be in Scotland or how she could possibly be the sole inheritor of a property there.
Check the information, she told herself, reaching for the telephone and almost knocking over her rapidly-cooling cup of coffee in the process. Anna carefully dialled the numbers of the legal firm but was interrupted by a voice message stating that she had misdialed and would she please check the number again.
“Wait just a minute! This must be some kind of confidence trick.”
Anna’s skeptical side jumped to her defence as she considered that a phone call could be an attempt to extort money in some way. She had heard of such schemes where an older person was duped into sending cash to obtain an inheritance where no such inheritance actually existed.
‘When in doubt, do nowt.’ Her father’s oft-repeated advice seemed apt to Anna at this moment. She walked to the apartment window and took a deep breath to still the shaking of her hands as she looked out at the snowy scene below. There was no rush. Things could be checked out. There were people who could assist at such times and Anna had a friend or two who would be happy to help get to the bottom of this mystery that threatened to disturb her quiet Saturday morning.
Anna’s next call quickly reached Susan on the other side of town where she lived with husband Jake and two huge dogs. Susan had been a legal secretary before she retired and was the legal eagle for Anna’s entire Samba circle of friends. It was Susan who had steered Anna through the minefield of divorce ten years before and it took her quick mind only a minute to grasp the current dilemma.
“Get in the car and head over here right away, Anna,” demanded Susan in her forthright manner, “and don’t forget to bring the letter, the envelope and any family information you have from your parents. Don’t worry, we’ll sort this out in no time. I’ll put on the coffee and tell the dogs you are on your way!”
* * *
Oscar and Dominic greeted Anna at the door in a flurry of wet noses and waving tails. The two Labradors, one brown and one black, were large for the breed and would have been a handful in Susan’s one-floor house if it were not for the wider doors required by her husband Jake’s wheelchair.
“Come in, come in!” said Susan, “You made good time. Just as well it’s the weekend and the traffic is a lot lighter.”
She took charge of Anna’s coat and hat, produced slippers, sent the dogs to their beds in the corner of the kitchen and poured coffee for Anna and Jake in the time it took for Anna to take a deep breath. Susan was the kind of capable and reliable friend who created confidence in those around her. Anna knew that Jake’s ability to cope so well with his MS was a direct result of his wife’s no-nonsense attitude that extended to the medical personnel they both had to deal with.
“Right! Let’s take a look at this letter, Anna.”
Susan cleared a space on the kitchen table and studied the envelope first, then the letter.
“Looks authentic enough. I can easily check the firm in a legal index. Your problem phoning was likely to do with the international codes. I think you have to drop this zero when you call from Canada.”
Looking up, Susan fixed Anna with the gimlet gaze that had scared many a young lawyer.
“Who’s this Helen Dunlop? Can’t say I’ve ever heard you mention her.”
“That’s just it,” explained Anna with a sigh. “I have no clue. I never even heard her name before this and I can’t imagine why she would leave anything to me, never mind a house of some sort!”
“Hey! Look on the bright side, lady! You could be the new owner of a residence in Scotland. I hear the property values there are far higher than they are in Ontario.
You could be a woman of substance, my dear!”
Susan’s unexpectedly positive response to what had seemed to be a huge problem to Anna, turned the situation upside down in a moment.
A property of her own. A chance to make a new start in a new place. Somewhere far from the failures Anna had been dogged with since her divorce. Could it be….?
Almost as soon as these thoughts crowded her mind, Anna’s pessimistic and practical side took over and the dream crashed with a thud.
Susan had been watching Anna’s face closely and saw the frown between her blue eyes deepen.
“What are you thinking now?’ she accused.
“Well, I can’t imagine this is a simple matter of claiming a property. There are bound to be all kinds of ownership requirements including a raft of papers to be signed and possibly residence qualifications and who knows what else. I couldn’t just up sticks and take off across the Atlantic and ……”
“Why on earth not?” demanded Susan. “It’s about time you had an adventure Anna. You can’t let life pass you by any more. The past few years have not been easy, I know, but this could be exactly what you need to shift you out of the boring groove you’re in these days.”
“Hey! Less of the insults, Susan! I am not so boring. I have a perfectly comfortable life and I’m not sure I really want to change it for something so uncertain.”
An image of all the ornaments in her apartment flashed before Anna’s eyes. There were precious memories there. What would happen to all her stuff if she took off on this ‘adventure’? Who would she know in a strange place? How could she afford to do such a risky thing?
With a shake of her head to erase these uncomfortable thoughts Anna stood up abruptly and pushed back her chair.
“Susan, I’m just not ready to discuss this any more today. I have a lot of thinking to do.
Keep the letter and feel free to see what you can find out for me but I am not promising anything. I don’t feel happy about all this turmoil just when my life was beginning to fall into place again. Please don’t push me Susan.”
Anna had seen the determined look in Susan’s eye. Of all Anna’s friends, Susan was the one who wanted to fix everyone’s problems for them. Not that she wasn’t capable of doing so with some amazing results at times, but Anna did not want that kind of help at the moment.
She extricated herself from Susan’s house with a quick goodbye and drove off down the snowy street, her head in such chaos that it was obviously not a good time to be driving.
A Tim Horton’s appeared at a street corner so Anna took refuge in its steamy interior and settled by a window with a large double double, taking a deep breath to
calm her racing mind.
Why am I in such a state about this, she fumed? I can easily turn my back on the whole stupid idea and forget the letter ever arrived. The farm house could be sold perhaps? It would never work anyway. I am way too old to be thinking about something so crazy at this time in my life. Woman of substance, indeed!
A few sips of coffee later, Anna felt calm enough to look around her. The café was nearly empty at this time in the afternoon with only a few customers lined up at the counter and a young girl swabbing the melted snow off the floor. At a corner table, a man and woman were sampling donuts and talking excitedly about flyers or brochures in front of them.
They’re probably thinking about buying a house or a car, mused Anna. Nice to see such enthusiasm. She smiled as the woman clapped her hands in delight and threw her arms around the man.
When did I lose that kind of enthusiasm for life, she wondered? I used to be the kind of person who welcomed any diversion, loved the next episode, longed to see what was at the end of a road not travelled before. What happened to me?
A sigh so deep it brought tears welling up in her eyes, shocked Anna.
I’m not so unaware of my problems, she told herself. I do know what happened to me. Life happened. Disappointment happened. Things did not turn out the way I always hoped. The husband, children and cozy domestic scene I thought I could count on, just didn’t work out and now here I am, alone in a coffee shop trying to face my fears and find the woman I used to be before all the disasters ruined my neat little life plans.
I know it started with Richard, or else it ended with him. It seemed like a good match; two people in their twenties with careers just beginning and ambitious plans for travel and a house in the suburbs with 2.5 children and a garden. Years of hard work to raise enough money for the dreams to come true became the daily grind that wore down the stamina and the resolve to make those dreams a reality.
The little annoyances of living with a partner who was just as weary as you were, began to chip away at the love Anna and Richard had cherished at the start.
Of course it didn’t dissolve the marriage right away. It took a long time for the real damage to show.
Richard worked long hours and was often on the road serving clients for his family’s insurance firm. When he came home again he didn’t seem interested in Anna’s lonely days, or notice the housework she had done, despite her own fatigue, so that their time together would be uninterrupted.
Instead, he collapsed on the sofa and expected Anna to listen to his complaints about clients and crazy drivers while providing meals on a tray in front of the TV where Richard invariably fell asleep after an hour or so.
Anna fell into the habit of unloading her frustrations after a week or two of this.
She longed for a baby, but Richard no longer saw this as a priority and it inevitably meant a fight.
Anna rubbed her neck, sipped her cooling coffee again and grimaced towards the window. She tried not to relive the ugly scenes that contaminated her marriage but with time she knew that both partners were to blame and she could not escape the guilt.
Perhaps she had never learned from her silent parents how to fight effectively.
That was what the self-help books the library constantly circulated, had taught her, in the long sleepless nights after Richard left.
Their own fights had escalated in just a few anguished minutes to full-scale attacks with shouting and accusations totally unrelated to the particular trigger that had started it all.
The atmosphere in the kitchen or bedroom where these scenes usually took place, was poisonous. Anna knew it, but employed some form of magical thinking that led her to believe ‘This time it will be different. This time he’ll see my point of view and not blame me for everything wrong since the beginning. This time he won’t beat me down with words.’
It was quite ridiculous, Anna acknowledged. She was an intelligent woman, respected in her profession, whose advice was often sought by her teaching colleagues. She was competent in so many ways, yet she could not hold her own when it mattered most. Interviews for demanding jobs were a breeze for her but she collapsed in tears when challenged unfairly by the man she loved.
“Doesn’t do any good to go over all this again,” Anna murmured to the window, then swiftly looked around to see if anyone was near enough to have heard her. Crazy old lady talking to herself would be the verdict for sure, she thought.
The end of the marriage was inevitable, although Anna was the only one who could not see it coming.
Her staunch pal Alina had tried to warn her more than once, but Anna was deep into denial by then, unwilling to admit the death of her dreams.
Richard’s work hours continued to increase until their home life was little more than an armed camp. He took to sleeping in the spare bedroom so as not to disturb Anna when he came home late.
The final death knell rang clearly when a neighbour returned from a family trip to Toronto and told her friend that she had seen Richard outside a hotel in a very warm embrace with a young woman who was definitely more than a work colleague.
The ensuing fight tore down all Anna’s defences and when Richard left, she was a quivering wreck for months until Susan took over and steered Anna through the divorce settlement.
The worst part was the aftermath. Anna’s confidence was shattered. She constantly mourned the lost decades and blamed herself for wasting so much time.
Then came the slow rebuilding period, with extensive reading, self-examination and support from Samba, Anna’s long-time pals, named for a combination of the first letters of their names.
“All in the past. All over. I am a new person now!” Anna asserted again, to her reflection in the window.
She wiped away the stray tear with a paper napkin, stood up and fastened her coat.
The coffee queue was building up now as the end of the afternoon approached.
“It’s time for me to go home to a safe, secure place of my own where I can lick my wounds in peace. I have a lot to think about now.”
* * *
By the time she reached her apartment Anna could feel an acid churning in her stomach from all the coffee she had drunk that day. She shuffled into the kitchen and stared inside the fridge for inspiration.
“Could this be an ice cream day? No, a bit too chilly for that treat. Chocolate? That’s a never-fail comfort food. Now where did I stash the chocolate the last time I had a bad date?”
A few minutes rummaging around in the kitchen cupboards and her bedroom drawers revealed nothing sufficiently satisfying for the current crisis. Anna was about to give up when she remembered the gift bag in her closet where the emergency supply of goodies was stored. Retrieval required some digging into the back of the closet behind the summer shoes and clothing. Just as she spied the bright red gift bag with its hoard of chocolate bars, another familiar smell stopped Anna in her tracks. Bent double with very little light to see with, she could still identify this scent and trace its source inside the storage box she had once thrust far out of her sight.
“Well,” she sighed in despair, “isn’t this just typical! How much worse could this damn day get?”
Anna dragged the offending box backwards out to daylight, grunting through gritted teeth.
“‘In for a penny; in for a pound’,” as mother used to say. “I might as well dive to the bottom of this well of desperation. It’s the only way to burst this particular boil of bad feelings. Now there’s a bag of mixed metaphors!” Anna chuckled to herself, glad that she could still laugh at what had once been a very painful journey.
The smell of Richard’s deodorant assailed her nostrils as she threw aside the box lid and saw the contents folded neatly inside. This was all that remained of her marriage. Items she had kept because the memories they revived were mainly happy ones.
Richard’s favourite old, brown, sweater came out first. It was so worn in the elbows, it was almost transparent. Anna had removed it finally from Richard when she
won a bet with her husband that she could find a replacement in the exact same colour and pattern.
Maria had come to the rescue that time, and after hours of shopping and lots of laughter about men and their dress disasters, she had unearthed a duplicate sweater from some antique store she knew.
Anna had proudly presented the substitute sweater to Richard and confiscated the offending item, little thinking that it would provide such a sentimental memory for her one day, redolent of evenings reading together by the fireside that ended with a sleepy embrace as she and Richard went to bed arm in arm.
Below the sweater, Anna uncovered some framed photographs that had once stood proudly on a bookcase shelf in their home. The engagement picture on Valentine’s Day at the outdoor skating rink; red noses to match Anna’s cap and scarf; left hand held up to the camera with the diamond glittering in the sunlight, almost as brightly as the smiles on their faces.
How long has it been since I looked that happy, thought Anna, and when did I last have the courage to wear red with this dull, grey hair of mine?
The wedding picture on the beach at the Caribbean resort; tanned skin against white veil
floating lazily in the tropical breezes. The ideal setting for a lifelong dream of love.
We looked like such a perfect couple, mused Anna, but all the good wishes showered on us that day couldn’t prevent the bad times ahead. I wish …………..
“No point in wishing now,” Anna said decisively. “The past can’t be changed. Learn the lessons and move on”.
Thrusting aside the velvet jewellery box and a collection of elaborate hairclips she had once worn when her hair was full, long and brown she grabbed the lid of the box, impatient to bring to a close this useless trip down nostalgia lane.
The lid refused to fit back on the box despite Anna’s firm push. She saw a cardboard folder jutting up from the contents and blocking the lid. She took out the folder intending to replace it flat on top of the box, but something about the faded paper cover made her stop and open it up.
