See what it’s like to live a little bit!

See what it’s like to live a little bit

by

Wendy E. Golding

When she was younger, all her dance teachers called Irma ‘Duchess’ after a famous ballerina. With Italian and eastern European family ties, Irma had similar features and background to the ballerina and she too had progressed into a successful ballet dancer, travelling the world and meeting the rich and famous. She had also married well. The name stayed with her and her closest friends took to calling her ‘Duchess.’

Now, at eighty years old, she was still always well put together. She was bird thin with firm muscles and walked with that air of a dancer. Her silver-grey hair was always shiny and carefully styled. Her face had wrinkles and crevices that told of her long life. Her expertly applied makeup always emphasised her very blue eyes which twinkled with wisdom and her mischievousness.

When Irma opened the front door to her house, photographs lined the walls giving away clues to her life and travels. She lived alone but friends and family, young and old, were always visiting. She walked a lot and knew most of the people in the area. Despite her age, men still made a beeline for her and she was often in lively discussions with the people she met on her walks.

Portia moved in with her two children, Reece and Maya, five years ago, two doors away from the Duchess and despite the 45 years difference in age, the two women became very good friends. They originally met and became good friends in the local café where they both liked to have a coffee and biscuits. Then they met there twice a week after Portia had dropped her children off to school. They had the same sense of humour and their mornings together was often filled with loud guffaws of laughter. Then they would take a walk to the local Greek food shop where they shopped for exotic foods. Although she ate very little, Irma knew a lot about recipes and cookery. In the summer, they would either sit in the garden of the local pub and have a glass of white wine. Sometimes in near silence, as they read the newspapers and passing opinions.

All that Portia knew about the duchess was that she came from a wealthy background, had married young and divorced after two children.

The Duchess was very proud of her children and grandchildren and was now waiting for the birth of her first great-grandchild. The two of them kept each other’s spirits up. Portia was a divorced mother struggling to make ends meet and she would talk of her hopes and wishes for herself and her children. The Duchess would regale about her travels and tell of the odd people she had met in the neighbourhood. Although Irma’s daughter Alex and her grandchildren often visited, there were times when the Duchess expressed to Portia that she felt alone and lonely. She missed the companionship of her husband, who had passed away over 15 years earlier. Portia, a little taller than Irma, with short hair coloured differently every season, felt protective towards the older woman and Irma told Portia that she drew energy and life from Portia and the two children.

Everyone thought that Duchess was keeping a journal. She was often seen making notes in a little black book which she kept with her all the time. It was always buried in the bottom of one of her large shopping bags which she always carried. She never told anyone what she wrote about and no one, not even her daughter, knew what was in this notebook. Once, she thought that she had lost it and became very panicked when it was nowhere to be found. Luckily, a staff member at the café had picked it up from under the seat where Irma and Portia had spent the day drinking coffee. She had to be consoled that no-one had read what she had written. It made everyone more curious about what was actually in the book.

When coronavirus lockdown, social distancing and self-isolation came into force, there was a limited amount of time Portia could spend with the Duchess. Reece and Maya were at home instead of school and she had to supervise their schoolwork. She had less time to spend next door and she had to be careful that she did not put the Duchess at risk of the virus.

Duchess, on the other hand, stayed indoors most of the time. Her daughter brought her food deliveries and did some of the housework. She spent her time reading and making the occasional note in her black notebook.

Portia and the children missed seeing their next-door neighbour. Texting became their means of keeping in touch.

For months this was the pattern of their living, but when, for days Portia stopped getting replies to her texts and no response when she knocked on her door, she used the number that she had been given in case of emergencies. She called Irma’s daughter.

They found The Duchess lying as if asleep in her bed. She had died peacefully.

Due to the restrictions of the pandemic situation, it was two months after her death before Irma was eventually laid to rest. Only her close relatives were allowed to attend so Portia and her two children were left to mourn her passing separately. Many of her friends couldn’t attend and they with her family organised a virtual viewing of her funeral. Local people having heard of her death organised a whip-round and bought a lovely wreath of flowers for her funeral. The café where they would often meet invited people to pass by to celebrate her life, whilst practising social distancing and mask-wearing. They laid out cakes and biscuits and a few savouries, played a few old-time songs and remembered her stylish ways.

Two weeks after the funeral, there was a knock on Portia’s door.

It was Alex.

With social distancing, Alex could not enter the apartment, so stood at the door holding a white envelope.

‘Portia, whilst clearing mum’s effects, we found this envelope addressed to you. We don’t know what it’s about but it’s only now that we can pass it over’

She thanked Portia for all the help and kindness that she had shown her mother and especially the friendship they had had.

She then wished Portia all the best and left. The house would be sold, so at some stage, there would be a new neighbour.

When Alex left, Portia stood behind her door, feeling sad. Many times, over the past weeks since her friend’s death, when returning from shopping, she had automatically moved to Irma’s gate to knock for her, before remembering that she was not there anymore.

There were times that she checked to see if Eunice was looking out of her window, watching the world go by or hoped to see her outside tidying up her garden flowers. It took her strong will to stop that habit. She also had to explain and console her two children. They had lost their dad when she divorced him and he was no longer in their lives, so suddenly losing someone they thought of as one of their friends, they found it difficult again to sleep and could not concentrate on their home-school work for days. Reece then took to frightening his younger sister with ghost stories and funny noises. It had been a difficult few weeks. Portia missed her next-door friend.

She placed the envelope on the kitchen table and went to make a cup of tea, all the while wondering what it could be. The children were in the front room each playing on their own I-pad. For now, they were quiet.

With her cuppa next to her, Portia opened the envelope.

Inside there was a softcover black book.

She recognised it as the one that Irma was always making her notes. She paused as she recalled the numerous times that she saw her friend take the little book out and scribble something quickly. She couldn’t remember for what reason notes might be made. She had assumed that it was either new recipes or random notes. Now, she would find out.

She gently opened the book. On the inside cover, Duchess had pasted one of the many pictures they had taken together. It was during the last summer before lockdown. They had treated themselves to a couple of glasses of white wine as they enjoyed the sun whilst sitting in the pub garden. It had been a great afternoon of catching up and laughter. Now, she must see why Duchess wanted her to have this book.

In the pocket at the back, she found a letter. It was dated three weeks before her death.

“Darling Portia.

You must have been curious, like everyone else, about this book. We spent many hours chatting about our wants and wishes. For myself, I have travelled and lived my life to the full. I always wish the same for you. So, I want to be your fairy godmother. Whenever you mentioned something that you wanted to do, for yourself or your two dearest children, whom I love as my own grandchildren, I made a note. So, darling Portia here is a cheque for £20,000.

I want you to spend this money on some of the things that I have noted. My dear, enjoy life, travel, treat yourself now and again and take the pearls and pitfalls of life in your stride.

See what it’s like to live a little bit! And ENJOY!

I know you can do it. Use this notebook to add more wishes.

I love you all dearly!”

Your friend,

Irma “The Duchess.”

Tears flowed from Portia’s eyes. This was so sweet and unexpected. It was the first time that someone had given her a gift so unique.

Just then, her two children came rushing into the kitchen and seeing her tears, they exclaimed in shock. “Mum, what’s happened?”

She explained about the gift from Irma. In the end, all of them were in tears.

The three of them sat together, going through the black book. The Duchess had noted all the things that she had heard Portia speak of as her wishes. In all, she had made over 100 entries. Portia’s dream to go to Egypt and see the Sphinx, her wish to travel on the Orient Express, to go to a murder mystery evening at a hotel. Her wish to buy a sexy corset, in red. Even her dream of taking the children to Disneyland.

They would all have to be put on the back burner for a while until the pandemic subsided and the world was back to normal.

Portia poured a glass of wine in honour of her friend and her unusual and incredible gift.

There was still room in the book to make more entries. Portia determined, there and then, to give respect to her friend’s wishes and to keep writing her wishes. She aimed to fulfil them all.

1852 words

Wendy E. Golding

© 2021