Patchwork Object

Items

• Patch by Jil
  A new tenant had moved into the house opposite. A woman on her own. No husband, no kids, no dogs, cats or budgerigars – just a woman. After watching through the nets and waiting until the removal van had left, Ma went over to introduce herself. “Mavis,” she said, holding out a hand, “but everyone calls me Ma,” “Oh,” the woman said, clasping Ma’s hand in hers. “Like the Japanese ma – a gap between one thing and another, or, or,” her hands fluttered like birds around her face as she sought the words, “a pause in the flow,” Ma waited as she didn’t seem to have finished. “Like a space waiting to be filled with possibility,” the woman smiled. “It’s just short for Mavis,” Ma said, not knowing what to say next, as normal pleasantries wouldn’t do with this woman. “Come in,” the woman beckoned and Ma followed down the hallway that had been shut up and awaiting its new tenant for weeks. She followed the woman not to the kitchen, but to the front room, where towers of boxes were stacked against one wall. In the centre of the room a typewriter sat on a small fold up table. “I’m sorry, you’ll be busy unpacking and what not,” Ma said, hovering in the doorway. “You’re fine, I’m only unpacking the essentials,” the woman waved a hand behind her where the typewriter sat waiting. “I’m a writer,” she added, grinning at Ma like she’d won the lottery. Ma didn’t know what to say to that, but the thought of having a typewriter waiting to be filled with her own unique thoughts was suddenly irresistible. “I didn’t catch your name?” she said. “It’s Victoria. I don’t let anyone shorten it to Vi, or Vic. We get diminished enough as it is – don’t you think?"