Soul to Soul

"Oh, how nice to see you here," said a female voice.

I looked round in surprise to see a woman apparently pinned against the wall by a leering young guy dressed like a derelict gypsy.

I was at an art preview and had I been wandering around somewhat apathetically with a glass of lousy champagne in my hand. I was only there because a friend of mine, Ted, was exhibiting, and the works on display were of about the same quality as the champagne. I was wondering what I could say to him that wouldn't sound too unpleasant.

The woman had a desperate look in her eyes that seemed to say, "Please rescue me."

I thought I knew her, but couldn't think from where or why.

Understanding her plight I plunged in and said heartily, "Hello, I didn't expect to see you here. I'm just going to take a look in number three gallery, have you been there yet?"

"No...no, I have not."

"Let's go and take a look together," I replied, not knowing what else to say.

The young gypsy look-alike man glared poison at me, and then saying to the woman, "I'll catch up with you later, sweetheart," he wandered off.

The woman, with a look of overwhelming relief said, "Thank you for rescuing me. I did not want to be rude to him or make a fuss in public, but his breath was terrible and he wanted to escort me home. He was suggesting that we could get together for what he called 'some conviviality'."

"Glad I could be of use," I replied. "We have seen each other before, haven't we?"

"Yes, we are neighbours."

"Ah, of course."

I had only just moved into one of the new houses they were building adjacent to the city centre in an attempt to bring back people in to the CBD. They were really quite luxurious places but semi-detached. Since they had only just been completed all of us living in what was called, "The Close," were strangers, but I did recall seeing the woman a couple of times.

Trying not to make it too obvious I took an inventory of her. About five feet six in height, she looked around forty and, unlike most of the people at the preview, was dressed rather simply in a soft grey dress that covered her from neck to knee. Most of the females at the preview seemed bent upon displaying as much of their mammary glands as possible, but this dress gave only a hint of softly rounded breasts and a well proportioned figure.

Her dark hair was cut straight at near shoulder length; her dark eyes were startling in their brilliance and her face had a classical appearance, rather like one of those Greek goddesses.

"Were you really going to the number three gallery?" she asked.

I laughed and said, "No, I've already been there; I could see you needed rescuing so I said the first thing that came into my head."

"You were very kind. I do not like to be rude, but another minute and I would have had to say something nasty, he was so insistent."

She had a beautifully modulated voice but her careful pronunciation suggested that English was not her native language.

"We are neighbours," she went on, "but we do not know each other's names. I am Elizabeta Imra, but here I call myself Elizabeth."

"Andrew Davies," I responded.

She extended a small hand to me and when I took it I found her grasp surprisingly firm and warm.

By some unspoken mutual consent we continued to chat and I could see the rag bag young man had already found himself another victim, an apparently more willing one. The girl, with naked breasts virtually hanging over the top of her dress, was pinned against another wall chattering and giggling while the young man stroked her thigh.

"What do you think of the paintings," Elizabeth was asking."

I made a grimace.

'Yes, they are not very fine," She said. "Do you wish to stay?"

"No, in fact I was about to go home."

"I also; would you be so kind as to escort me?"

This had me a bit taken aback. The formal way of making her request was rather quaint and touching, but when I'd met Anne for the first time it was me who had done the asking.

"I...er...yes, if you'd like me to."

"Yes, I like; I do not think you would want conviviality...I do not know that word, what is conviviality?"

"Well it means...er...warmth, friendliness, but I don't think the young man meant it quite like that."

"No, I also think. He tried to touch me here," she said, briefly laying a hand on her breast.

Not knowing how to respond to that I simply said, "Shall we go then?"

"Yes, we go, thank you."

As we left I saw and could not avoid Ted, my friend who was exhibiting. I'd hoped to delay the moment when he would ask for my comments about his work.

He was surrounded by a gaggle of young females. I am not sure that it was his paintings that had drawn these young women to him. It was more likely that his allure resided in his good looks and, being somewhat cynical, I thought, "Also his money." He had been left rather well off by his now dead but once doting parents.

Breasts seemed to be in vogue, and I suppose I am old fashioned, but I prefer a bit more concealment. It's not that I have any objection to breasts, Anne had very desirable breasts, but they had been for my eyes and touch only. I was glad that I was escorting someone who seemed to take the same attitude as Anne concerning public breast exposure.

Ted spotted me, and momentarily disengaging himself from his admirers came toward me and asked, "Well, what did you think?"

I'm rather proud of the response I made on the spur of the moment.

"Ted, you've really done it this time."

He looked very pleased, and in a display of false modesty said, "Oh, do you really think so?"

"Yes, of course I do." Fortunately he did not ask me what I actually thought he had done.

Elizabeth had gone a little ahead of me and Ted grinned and muttered something about, "You're flying a bit high there old boy."

Wondering what he meant I was about to ask, but one of the girls had drawn him away saying, "We're not going to let you desert us."

I caught up with Elizabeth and we made our way outside.

Our houses were only ten minutes walk from the gallery and neither of us had bothered to use our cars. As we walked along I asked, "What brought you to the gallery, were you an invited guest?"

"No, I just saw the advertisement in the newspaper about the exhibition, so I went along. I thought I might see something I would like for my house."

She gave a throaty laugh and went on, "I did not read the date correctly. I did not realise that tonight was for preview guests only and they did not at first want to let me in, but then the man at the door changed his mind and said he thought it would be all right as long as I did not tell anyone. I think he was the owner of the gallery and he hoped I might buy something and he would get his...what is the word?"

"Cut, I think you mean, or percentage."

"Yes; I did not buy, and you?"

"No, I didn't really intend to anyway, I went along because my friend Ted who's exhibiting invited me."

"The man with all the girls?"

"Yes, that's Ted."

"A very handsome man, but not a good artist I think."

We had entered The Close and Elizabeth's house was the first one we came to.

We stopped and she said, "You have been most kind to escort me. I was a little afraid the young man with the bad breath might try to follow me home, but I think not because he seemed to be having conviviality with a young lady."

Somewhat formally I said, "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth, I hope we shall talk again soon."

"Yes, you are kind, thank you."

"Goodnight, Elizabeth."

"Goodnight, Andrew."

I started to walk towards my front door, but Elizabeth called after me, "Andrew."

I turned, "Yes?"

"It is still early; would you like to join me for a drink?"

"You mean, in your place?"

"Yes...oh, am I being too presumptuous; you think I am..." she was struggling to find the right word. "You think I am too...too bold?"

I smiled and replied, "No I don't think you're being too bold or presumptuous. None of us in The Close know each other yet, so I suppose we need to make a start."

"I have some very fine wine; it will take away the taste of that terrible champagne."

There was something almost poignantly ingenuous about her and for the first time since Anne I found myself being drawn to a woman.

The house was identical to mine only other way round. They were two story places, and apart from the small entrance hall (referred to by the agent who sold me the place as "The Reception Area"), there was a lounge, dining room, kitchen and laundry, plus a toilet. In addition there was a small room that the agent had called, "A rumpus room," although given its size I didn't think you could kick up much of a rumpus in it. Upstairs were two bedrooms, a bathroom and shower plus another toilet; really an ideal place for people living on their own.

I've sometimes wondered about the superfluity of toilets people demand these days. In some houses with no more than four or five people living in them there are three and even four toilets. The impression is that people spend a great deal of time urinating and defecating.

We went into the lounge and I was struck by the elegant simplicity of the furnishing. Upholstered in golden brown were three armchairs and a rather comfortable looking sofa. A coffee table in walnut stood in front of the sofa, and in one corner was a plant stand, also in walnut, with a somewhat voracious looking plant in a pot. It was to a cabinet, again in walnut, that Elizabeth went, and pulling down a flap revealed a mini-bar.

"You will sit, Andrew?" she asked. I sat in an armchair and she indicated the walls and said, "You see why I went to the exhibition."

There were no pictures.

She sighed and went on, "I shall have to look elsewhere for what I want, yes?"

"Yes, I suppose you will."

"You like wine?"

"Yes."

"I do have whisky, gin, vodka and..."

"Wine with be fine."

She poured two glasses and handed me one and then sat opposite me. Raising her glass she said, "I drink to our future as neighbours."

"Our future as neighbours," I responded.

We drank.

"May I ask you about yourself, Andrew? – I am not too bold again?"

"No, not too bold," I laughed, "What would you like to know?"

"You do work?"

"I'm a road traffic engineer."

"That is good...er...interesting?"

I smiled and said, "It can get a bit complicated at times, trying to balance everybody's demands, but yes, it's interesting; and you?"

"I have recently opened a small boutique dress shop."

"Is it going well?"

"It is only beginning and it will take time. You see, I sell Ruthvenia designs."

"Ruthvenia designs?" I asked, puzzled.

"Ah, you are like many people in this country, you have never heard of Ruthvenia."

"No, you must tell me about it."

"Perhaps some other time, Andrew, but this I will tell you, Ruthvenia has many dress designers and so I open a shop here to see if I can sell some of their designs."

"Expensive?"

"I do not know how to say it properly." She thought for a moment then suddenly she glanced at me, laughed and said, "You know roads, so if I say my prices are middle of the road, you understand?"

"Yes, not too dear and not too cheap."

"Yes, that is right. You must come and see. I look at your roads so you come and look at my shop."

I laughed and said, "I can come and look at it, but don't expect me to buy anything."

"Ah, there is no lady that you can buy for?"

That touched a raw nerve but I said, "No...there is no one to buy for."

"Such a pity. You are a nice man and..." She stopped and then continued in a solemn tone of voice, "I have said something that I should not and I see by your face you are pained; I am sorry Andrew."

"That's all right," I muttered; and trying to change the subject said, "This is excellent wine.

"Yes, that is one of the things you do well in this country, make wine."

"How long have you been in this here?"

"A little more than twelve months."

"And you like it?"

"Yes, but it can be lonely at first; but now I know you and we can talk sometimes, yes?"

"Yes, I'd like that, Elizabeth."

I could not understand why such a pleasant and attractive woman should be lonely. If I was enjoying getting to know her, then there must be plenty of others who would delight in her innocently direct manner.

I finished the wine, and when offered a refill I said, "Better not, work in the morning, so I should be going."

She accompanied me to the front door and there offered me her hand. As I took it she said, "I am glad we are neighbours, Andrew, and...and if I sometimes say things not correctly, you will forgive me?"

"You say things beautifully, Elizabeth," I replied, "so there's nothing to forgive, and I am glad we are neighbours; goodnight."

"Goodnight Andrew."

I released her hand and went to my house thoughtfully.

I didn't see Elizabeth until the next weekend. In the meantime there were some things that puzzled me about her. Perhaps not directly connected with her was, "Where the hell is Ruthvenia?"

I looked it up in the index of an atlas, and after some searching found it to be little more than a dot on the map. The other puzzle was why she seemed to draw back from telling me about it.

The next thing was, what was a lovely woman of her age doing living alone? I suppose it could be pointed out that I was about the same age as her and also lived alone.

I wondered if she had a lover, male or female, but I had never seen anyone coming or going from her house. I decided it was not any of my business whether or not she had a bedtime companion, and tried to get rid of the thought.

It wasn't until the next Saturday afternoon that I saw her again. The houses had brick paved courtyards at the back. On three sides were brick, earth filled troughs. These were intended to be planted with flowers or small shrubs, and I was examining them as I tried to make up my mind what to put in them.

There was a high brush fence dividing my courtyard from Elizabeth's. Suddenly Elizabeth's head appeared over the top of the fence.

"Good afternoon, Andrew, I heard you moving around."

"Good afternoon, Elizabeth."

Referring to her appearance over the fence I said, "You must have grown a couple of feet since I last saw you."

She laughed, "Ah, no, I am standing on a chair."

A sudden wave of panic lanced through me.

"No don't...get down Elizabeth...please get down, it's not safe."

"It's perfectly all right, Andrew, I will not fall."

"Please...please...you don't realise how... I've got a step ladder, I'll get it and I can talk to you over the fence."

"You are distressed Andrew, I am sorry, I shall get down."

I got the step ladder and placed it near the fence and climbed up until I could see into Elizabeth's courtyard. She stood there looking up at me.

"It was kind of you worry about me, but I was perfectly safe."

"Yes, perhaps, but it made me think...something happened once...I don't want it happening to you."

She let the matter pass and said, "I was wondering what to plant and I thought you might be able to help me."

"I was wondering about that myself. You don't want anything that's too big. I was thinking of going to the plant nursery to see what they've got."

"Could we go together, Andrew?"

"Yes, they're open on Saturday afternoons."

I had seen her small dark blue car, so I said, "It might be better if we used my car. If we buy any plants they'd fit better in mine."

"Yes...yes," she said eagerly, "I will come to your door now."

I got down from the ladder went inside, and picking up my wallet headed to the carport. As I backed out Elizabeth was waiting for me. She got in beside me and off we went.

We spent about and hour wandering round the nursery and asking the staff what they recommended. I think we both ended up with more plants than we'd intended to buy, and the car was like a forest as we drove back.

I helped unload Elizabeth's purchases and then my own. It was starting to get dark, so more action had to wait until Sunday.

Sunday turned out to be a bit more surprising than I'd anticipated. Over the fence I could hear Elizabeth working away while I settled my own plants. In the midst of this Ted, the artist, arrived.

I dreaded that he might be going to ask me about the exhibition, but his real intention was to pass on what he thought was some exciting information.

Ted was one of those people who like to drag out their gossip, hoping to keep the hearer in suspense.

"Well you're a crafty one, " he began.

"Am I, in what way?"

"Pretending to be mister nice guy; the grieving widower and all that."

"Cut that out Ted, I won't have you..."

"Okay, okay, but that bird you were hanging around with at the exhibition..."

"If you mean Elizabeth, then keep your bloody voice down Ted, she's just over that fence."

"Sorry, sorry," he whispered, "she's you neighbour, is she?"

"Yes, and I intend to remain neighbourly with her, so don't you start criticising her, she's a very nice person."

"Yes...yes...no doubt she is," he said with an unpleasant leer on his face. "Mixing with the upper crust these days, are you?"

"Ted," I said in an exasperated voice, "If you've got something to say, just say it, I'm busy."

"You don't know who she is, do you?"

"She's Elizabeth Imra, she's from Ruthvenia, she hasn't been here long and she's a thoroughly nice lady, and I bet you've never heard of Ruthvenia."

"No doubt she is a nice lady, he grinned, and a bloody good looking one, and yes, I have heard of Ruthvenia."

"When did you here of it."

"The evening you were at the exhibition, and you don't know who she is, do you?"

"I told you she's..."

"Ah yes, but has she told you all, dear boy. For example, her real name is Elizabeta and..."

"She told me that."

"She may have, but do you realise you're mingling with royalty?"

"Go away Ted, I haven't got time to listen to this garbage."

"But its true, Andrew, I swear it. There was a guy from the Immigration Department at the exhibition, and he told me...he recognised her because there was a bit of a fuss about her coming here. I wanted to talk to her but the girls...you know; and the next thing the two of you had cleared off."

"You clear off as well, Ted, I want to start planting."

"All right I'm going. I only came here to tell you in case you didn't know..."

He paused, and then portentously went on, "She's the Crown Princess of Ruthvenia."

"What? Oh don't talk rubbish."

"She is, I swear it. Better mind your manners or it'll be 'Off with his head.'"

"I don't believe you Ted, and in any case, what's a Crown Princess doing here?"

"Okay, you don't believe, then ask her. I just came here to tip you off that you may be stepping outside your league."

"I'm not stepping inside or outside anything Ted; she's just a very nice neighbour, and that's how I intend to keep it, so go away. I'll have a drink with you some time soon, but I'm still trying to get things in order around here, okay."

He bowed mockingly and said, "Yes, your highness," and left.

Hoping that Elizabeth hadn't heard any of that I got back to planting shrubs, but unfortunately Ted had also done some planting.

You know how it is? Some one tells you something, and even if you want to forget it, it still keeps milling around in your head. That's how it was with Ted's information.

The worrying thing was that he'd got some things right, like the country and the name. He must have been truthful about the immigration guy because how else would he know about those things?

Thinking it over, Elizabeth was a bit different, but not, I thought, in a princess way. And if she was a princess what was she doing living in a semi-detached house in a less than famous city like ours?