Fit to Die (2 page)

“Oh, Merrilee,” I said, “I don't think you've met Nora Barton from Apartment 203. Nora's husband owned Barton
Berry Farm over near Manotick.” I turned to Nora. “Merrilee is our resident expert on fashion and decorating.” At least she was always commenting on what people wore and the colour of the cushions in the lounge. I thought it would make her more gracious to Nora if I buttered her up a bit. It didn't work. She looked sharply at Nora's black polyester skirt and flowered cotton blouse, and without actually curling her lip, managed to convey disdain in her cool “I'm pleased to meet you.”

Nora, poor naïve soul, thought Merrilee really was pleased to meet her and tried to fumble her tray onto one side so she could shake hands. As she extended her right hand, the tray began to tilt and the chicken pot pie started its fatal slide down Merrilee's skirt, followed by the lemon meringue cake, which landed with a soft plop on her shoe.

Nora was frozen to the spot, her eyes wide and her mouth open. She started to babble. “I'm so sorry, oh dear, I'm so sorry.” She bent down to gather up the debris at Merrilee's feet.

“Don't touch me,” shrieked Merrilee, jumping backwards. “Look at my new skirt. And it came from the French Salon. I'll have to change.” With that, she gathered up the edge of the garment and stalked off, stopping at her cronies' table, where she loudly said something about farmers.

“I'll pay for it to be cleaned,” Nora said to her back.

“You certainly will,” said Merrilee without turning around.

The kitchen staff had come out by this time and were cleaning up the spill and handing Nora another tray. Louise came forward and took it, saying “Come and sit with me. Your accident did my heart good. I've wanted to throw my dinner at Merrilee Parker many times.”

Nora and Louise hit it off very well. Everybody gets along with Louise. She's a kind soul and usually very even-tempered despite the arthritis, but Merrilee often tried even her
patience. “Has she been here long?” Nora asked.

“About six years. Her husband was a dental surgeon. He had a heart attack about eight years ago, right in the middle of a root canal. Her sons were both married with children and Merrilee went to live with each of them in turn, but from what I heard, she just wanted the whole house to revolve around her and the daughters-in-law couldn't take it.” Louise frowned. “It probably won't be long before you hear about her husband.”

Merrilee never missed an opportunity to remind us of his important, and well-paid, profession. Nearly all of us were widows, in varying stages of the grief process and financial comfort, but if you tried to mention your own husband, Merrilee always found a way to turn the conversation back to hers. The general irritation with Merrilee was such that most of the people who had witnessed Nora's mishap with the tray stopped at our table to say a few words of welcome to her. Percy and Janet Lowther even sat with us for a while and reminisced about the many happy times they had spent picking berries at Barton's Farm with their children and grandchildren. So, all in all, the evening accomplished everything I had hoped for.

•  •  •

It was no surprise when Merrilee started her usual tactics at the tai chi class. The notice had suggested that we wear flat shoes or slippers, but Merrilee turned up in sandals with one-inch heels.

“They're the lowest things I own,” she stated. “Flat shoes make me look so…”

“Short?” suggested Mr. Lowther, his eyes twinkling. His wife gave him a dig in the ribs, and Louise covered her laugh
with a mock sneeze when Merrilee shot her a glance.

“Oh, you,” cooed Merrilee, batting her eyelashes, “you're always teasing me.” Had the comment come from one of the women, her reaction would not have been one of amusement. Merrilee had been Miss Buttermilk in the 1945 Renfrew Fair, and she had never gotten over it. She was still a pretty woman, petite and dainty, but she had made no concessions to her seventy-two years. She still dyed her hair blonde and wore it in an outdated page boy style. She bought clothes for her size rather than her age, and many of her outfits were meant for someone younger. Today she was wearing peach slacks with “Lauren” embroidered in black down the left leg and a matching top saying “Number One”. She must have gone out to buy them on Saturday, because I had never seen her in that outfit before.

Mrs. Yee, our diminutive Chinese instructor, had brought a bag of those black cloth Chinese shoes, and she offered to lend Merrilee a pair for the first lesson until she got something suitable.

Merrilee was horrified. “Wear shoes worn by someone else?” She recoiled as if she had been physically struck. “I won't have any trouble in my own. I used to be a dancer, you know.”

Mrs. Yee looked at her and nodded before addressing us all. “Merrilee right to mention dance. Tai chi not dance but like dance, movements are graceful and smooth. But done very slowly. Thing to remember is all movements circular. And don't forget—breathe!”

She told us she was going to teach us the eight-minute version of tai chi, which only has twenty-seven forms in three groups. She thought this would suit us better than the classical long program which has 108 movements. I thought we'd do well if we could remember seven, let alone twenty-seven, but
we'd see how it went. Merrilee, of course, seemed to master the moves quite easily, but Nora was in trouble almost at once. The opening move was fine, because you stayed in one place. It was when we got to the second form, “Parting the Wild Horse's Mane”, that the trouble surfaced. It quickly became obvious that Nora couldn't distinguish her left from her right, and she got completely turned around. Mrs. Yee was patience itself. She repeated the sequence several times, and she stood with Nora and guided her arms and feet. In the end she paired her with Merrilee, telling Nora to follow her movements. Poor Nora got mixed up again, though, and ended up crashing into Merrilee, who flounced off saying loudly that at this rate we'd be lucky if we ever got beyond Lesson One.

“I won't come again,” said Nora. “It's not going to work.”

Louise came to the rescue. Despite her physical limitations, she had made a good attempt at the movements, and she wasn't going to let Nora quit so easily.

“You aren't going to let Miss Margarine of 1935 make you give up, are you?” she said. “You're only like the rest of us: a bit overweight and a lot out of practice.”

“Now, Nora,” I said, “you come from a farm, and you know all about setbacks. Did you give up every time your crops failed because of bad weather? Just think of Merrilee as a big wind, but in her case she can only do damage if you let her. Don't give up. Practise in your room.”

The second lesson was no better. When we arrived, Merrilee, who had, I noticed, bought herself some black satin ballet slippers, seemed to be arguing with Mrs. Yee. I heard her saying something about two groups, but Mrs. Yee just said: “We see. We see. Too soon.”

The class started with a repetition of the moves from the first session. Nora was only marginally less awkward and
frequently got turned around. “I've been practising,” she told me, “but there's not much room.”

Merrilee snickered. “Everybody else is parting the horse's mane. Nora seems to be working on the tail.”

While we learned the two new moves, “White Stork Cools Its Wings” and “Brush Knee”, Louise and I took our places on Nora's right and left, but even so, we lost her a couple of times when she started to go north while we were all going south.

Nora found the session very stressful, but fortunately, Mrs. Yee always finished with a period of meditation during which we all cooled down mentally and physically. Before we left, Mrs. Yee gave me a book on tai chi showing the exercises. “You help Nora,” she said.

“I don't care about the book,” Nora said. “I'm not going back.”

“Why don't we give it another week?” Louise said soothingly. “Now Eileen has the book, we can take our time. We won't have to keep up with anyone.”

Nora reluctantly agreed to Louise's proposal, but Louise herself was having doubts. “I've been wondering,” she said to me later, “whether we're right to persuade her to continue. It's quite upsetting for her.”

“But it's the only activity I've managed to interest her in,” I said, “and she needs to do something. If she gives it up, she'll just go back to moping in her room. I think we should press on for a few more lessons, anyway. It's still very early.” Louise looked sceptical. “You know, on the third floor there's quite a large space at the end of the corridor to the right of the elevator, where the stairs come up,” I said. “You and I could help Nora practise there, and we'd be out of the way.”

On Friday we took Nora up to the third floor. She protested that she would never be any good at it, and she might just as
well give up right now, but I managed to convince her to keep on with us helping her. We tied red bows to her right wrist and ankle and green ones on her left wrist and ankle. I held a large red rosette and Louise held a green one.

We started with the easy opening exercise, staying in place and lifting and lowering our arms. The book said that during this exercise, you're supposed to concentrate your spirit and empty your mind of disturbing and extraneous matters. Nora could raise and lower her arms all right, but it was obvious her spirit was only concentrating on the ordeal of the next movement. Still, we persevered. For the next movement, I asked her if she had ever watched a baseball game.

She looked at me in amazement. “Yes, of course.”

“Well, think of the batter's body when he's going to hit the ball. First his body swings a bit to the right as he prepares to hit and then it swings over to the left as he follows through. The start of “Parting the Horse's Mane” is a bit like that but much, much slower, and you have to imagine you're holding a large beach ball. Now, swing your body from the waist a little to the right, putting your weight on your right leg, and bring your right arm up and your left arm down as if you've got this giant ball between them.” Nora gingerly followed instructions. “Bravo, Nora. That's it. Let's try just that bit again, so we don't even have to think about which hand is on top of the ball.”

Louise took over for the next part, in which Nora had to swing to the left, stepping forward on the left leg and reversing the arm positions holding the ball. This took quite a few tries before Louise was satisfied.

Then we had the job of trying to unite these two parts into a smooth-flowing whole. With me calling “Over to red” and Louise shouting “Come to green, baby”, we managed to get the bits cobbled together into a reasonably acceptable form.
We finished by having Nora try it on her own without our coaching from each side, and the look of surprised delight on her face when she did it was worth all the effort.

Louise and I burst into that song from
My Fair Lady,
“I think she's got it, I think she's got it”, and I invited them both down to my room for a glass of sherry to celebrate. This was another first for Nora. Actually, it was a first and a second, because she knocked the first one back so quickly I had to pour her another.

“Sherry's like tai chi, Nora. It should be taken slowly,” Louise said with a grin.

On Saturday morning, we thought we'd be able to plunge right into the “White Stork Cooling its Wings”, but unfortunately we had to backtrack, as Nora seemed to have forgotten quite a lot of yesterday's lesson. Still, we kept at it, and eventually she had it again. I suggested we have a break for lunch, and again we went to my apartment for a glass of sherry, which seemed to give us all fresh heart.

In the afternoon, we tackled “White Stork Cools its Wings”, but it didn't go too well. We were all a bit stressed out when we finished, and I thought both Louise and Nora were going to suggest giving up. Before they could open their mouths, however, I jollied them along by reminding Nora how well she'd done “Parting the Horse's Mane” and said I was sure we'd get it after another lesson with Mrs. Yee, and in the meantime, let's all go for a glass of sherry. Nora didn't come down for the buffet that night.

It was on Sunday afternoon, while I was checking the magazine rack for the latest issue of
Crafts for Every Day
in case there was something new we could introduce, that I overheard Merrilee giggling with her cronies.

“I understand she and Louise are giving her secret lessons,
trying to turn a sow's ear into a silk purse. Talk about the blind leading the blind. Eileen's about as graceful as a cart horse, and Louise can't even stretch her arms out properly. It must be like a performance by the Three Stooges.” And out came that irritating tinkling laugh. “Mark my words, this tai chi business won't last more than another week. Everybody thinks Mrs. Yee spends too much time on Nora and that it's time wasted.”

I was furious. Not about her aspersions about me and Louise, though they were aggravating enough, but if it killed me I was going to prove that Nora
could
and
would
master the tai chi moves. We'd just have to step up the practice program.

That Monday's lesson was not too bad. Because most of the class was not too sure about the “White Stork”, a fact which Louise and I found very reassuring, Mrs. Yee only introduced one new move, “Playing the Harp”.

“You see, Nora,” I said afterwards, “lots of people have difficulty learning the moves. You're not the only one. Maybe we should have a little session this afternoon while the ‘White Stork' is still fresh in our minds.”

This time it was Louise who complained. “I need to have a rest this afternoon, Eileen,” she said. “My arthritis is acting up.”

“I'll tell you what,” I said, “we'll all have a rest. Then Nora and I will meet at four o'clock for a little session before dinner, and if you're feeling okay, Louise, you join us. Nora really needs the two of us.”