Thursday, 15 August 2019

'Advantage': a story

This is a story I wrote to read at a meeting of the Uxbridge Writers' Circle uxbridgewriterscircle.blogspot.ca.
Each month, members write something that must include the words we chose during the previous meeting. This is a piece that I wrote for July and it touches on some issues about aging - something I feel passionately about. 
The words we selected are shown in italics.

I hope you enjoy it!   Please leave a comment.
Thank you. 


 Advantage

The view hadn’t changed from the evening before, except that the sun was in a different spot in the sky, which made the shadows shorter and more distinct. The trees were the same trees that Melanie had stared at for hours, weeks on end. She’d lost track of time. How long had she been in this godforsaken place? What day was it? The lilacs were over, the grass had been mown and the hostas were spreading their wings, so it must be well into spring. But she didn’t care. Nothing mattered any more.
            Her eyes caught movement on the driveway that led from the parking lot. There weren’t many visitors because this so-called retirement haven was stuck out on the country road that wound its way to the garbage dump.
As far as Melanie was concerned, she’d been dumped by her family. They’d insisted that it was for her own good. She’d be safe and have company. She’d much rather be living dangerously and alone.
            The young woman looked familiar. She approached the front door with a determined stride. Melanie couldn’t see her enter the building, but sensed that she was about to receive her first visitor.
            Penny stopped at the doorway into the quiet, still, ‘dying room’ as Melanie called it. The girl’s eyes widened in response to the older woman’s half-hearted wave. Melanie hadn’t seen her granddaughter for several months, but she knew that the girl had had her appendix out and been busy at university with exams afterwards.
Melanie used to be busy once.
            “Anybody’d think this was hallowed ground. They gave me the third degree. I thought I wasn’t going to be let in,” Penny said as she flopped down on the vinyl-covered sofa, unwound her long, stripy scarf and unzipped her backpack.
            “Hello,” Melanie said, not without tentativeness.
            Penny got up and gave Melanie an almost touchless hug as she made the gesture of kissing each of the old woman’s wrinkled cheeks.
            “I’m so sorry, Gran. I’m in a state. I’m here to ask for your help.”
            “You’ve been busy.” Melanie hoped the words didn’t convey the envy she felt.
            “I’m on some kind of hamster wheel and can’t get off, and then this happens.” She handed Melanie a newspaper clipping.
            “Student stabbed in locker room,” Melanie read out-loud. “Was he someone you knew?”
            “Brendan was a good friend. I really liked him.”
            “He was murdered?” Melanie asked, although the answer was obvious.
            “I can’t believe it. Who could want him dead? He was one of the good guys. He was even a bit of a hero in his community because he helped save the life of a little boy who’d fallen off a rock, or something, into the lake.”
            “Oh dear.” Melanie looked at Penny’s face with its smooth, flawless skin and clear, bright eyes. Gravity hadn’t yet wreaked its havoc on her granddaughter’s looks, and her skin still had elasticity. Melanie couldn’t remember what she’d looked like when she’d been Penny’s age.
            “Dad says I need to forget the whole thing and not get involved,” Penny said as she opened her lap-top.
            “I see. So, what are you going to do?”
            “Not just me. We are going to solve this. The police have no idea what happened. Nobody’ll talk to them. But, in any case, there weren’t any witnesses, or at least no-one will own up to being there.”
            “What do you mean by ‘we’?”
            “You and me. You were the best sleuth ever. I want the Melanie Butler advantage on my side.”
            “Melanie Butler Investigations closed down several years ago, remember?”
            “I don’t care. You’re still Melanie Butler. There’s nothing wrong with your brain. Just because you have arthritis and Grandad died doesn’t mean you can’t do stuff.”
            Melanie smiled for the first time in over a year.
            “But I’m stuck in this place,” Melanie said, as her mouth sagged back to its usual droopy position.
            “We can work from here. This can be our office, and I’ve borrowed Dad’s fancy SUV for the summer. He’s off to China tomorrow, something to do with trade, and he said I could use it. You’ll be able to get in and out of it, no problem. Aren’t you supposed to keep moving?”
            “Yes. Yes, I should.”
            Melanie dared to feel a little hope, a glimmer of light in her life, as Penny handed her some papers and showed her pictures on her lap-top. Something to think about. Something to do. Something to live for.
            Melanie and Penny became an inseparable team, interviewing students, lecturers, custodians, security staff and others. Melanie’s walking improved and her brain felt as if it was running on higher octane fuel. Her appetite returned.
            She regained some of her lost dignity.
            “Why don’t you move out of this depressing place?” Penny asked one day, right in the middle of an intense discussion they were having about their three prime suspects.
            “I’d love to get out of here. But I feel stuck.”
            “There’s a condo available in town. Do you want to look at it? I’d be willing to share, if you are. Dad wouldn’t be able to object.”
            Strange droplets of water gathered in Melanie’s eyes.
            “I’d absolutely love to look at it.”
            That’s how Melanie and Penny Butler started M and P Advantage Investigation Services. And the first case they cracked was Brendan’s murder. Melanie’s persistent questioning of one of Brendan’s flat-mates uncovered the typical story of a jealous lover whose girlfriend decided she’d rather go out with Brendan. So, the murderer thought that the solution was to get rid of Brendan, and then he’d get his girlfriend back. It didn’t work out as planned, but it rarely does.
            Melanie couldn’t help but feel a disturbing sense of gratitude to this young man. After all, if he hadn’t murdered Brendan, she wouldn’t have got her life back.
             
Vicky Earle Copyright 2019

No comments:

Post a Comment