Mrs van Dean

Tiana’s hair whipped around her as the car accelerated through the speed limit. The weather had been too good to not put the top down, and definitely too good to take the cumbersome MPV that her husband had bought so Ethan didn’t have to ride in the boot of his mother’s latest purchase. It did, however, mean that she would have to make another trip to the grocery store later in the week, but she didn’t care. She’d not bought the car just to look at – which you could have done.

It was the same model as her friend, Camila’s, but when she saw one shimmering in metallic grey, she walked into the retailer’s and told him what she was willing to pay for it. Apparently, the color was granite pearl and it came with a leather interior that was something called classic tan. All she cared about was that it spoke to her – and what it said was ‘I’m fabulous, buy me.’ So, she had.

What it hadn’t mentioned – was that it went like stink off a shovel and took corners like they weren’t there. So, it came as a surprise after Camila’s sedate driving to find that the accelerator went far lower than her friend had led her to believe. And she found that when it did, the car sucked her onto the tarmac and into that classic tan, each little bump an event and every corner a potential accident. The car didn’t seem concerned; on the exits, it chided. ‘Was that all you’ve got?’ or maybe that was just in her head?

Back in the sun, Tiana didn’t really know where she was. She’d started driving home but found herself taking a little side road that led her away from the city and towards the smaller, tighter roads that criss-crossed the countryside. The car was wasted on the wide overpasses and quiet suburban roads where she lived – it needed to be let out in the wild.

She basked in the sun’s rays as the vehicle sped through the high-hedged roads, her eyes forever on the lookout for an oncoming vehicle or double apexed corner. The machine could stop on a dime but a rear-wheel drive had a tendency to lose its back, and Tiana doubted the open top would afford her much protection against flipping a hedge or hitting a tractor. But then: that’s what made it so exciting.

Suddenly, something caught her notice. Slamming on the brakes, she brought the car to a grinding halt, and once her tyres had finished screeching, she clunked the substantial gearbox into reverse, driving back and re-passing the open house sign. She turned down an impressively spacious driveway and parked the car in front of the stone portico. It looked immediately at home. Tiana grabbed her phone and shook it, shutting down the vehicle and withdrawing the canopy. She skipped up the steps of the portico and rang the doorbell. Waiting, she admired the different stones that made up the aged walls; fabulous.

Meanwhile, the door seemed to unlock over the course of the following minute before opening, and a squinting, elderly lady stood, just as sharply bevelled in its stead. She wore a loose yet elegant brown dress, topped with a sharp collar and a gold neck brooch. The outfit suited her full grey hair and pearl, tear-drop earrings. ‘Yes? And who are you?’ she said as if having no knowledge of the sign outside her house.

‘Ah, yes … I’m Tiana, I saw the open house sign,’ Tiana explained and then waited while the woman opened a case and hooked a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles over her ears. She took a few seconds to look her visitor up and down then back towards the car in her drive.

‘Well … You’d better come in then,’ she said as if Tiana had passed some unknown criteria.

Tiana thanked the lady and made her way into the entrance hall. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, undeterred by the frosty welcome. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Van Dean,’ the woman curtly replied.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Tiana said, offering her hand. ‘I spotted your cottage from the road and knew I had to come and take a look.’

‘Yes, it’s fifteenth empire,’ the lady explained – looking at the hand as if she’d rather not. But Tiana wasn’t to be ignored and kept it out until Mrs Van Dean begrudgingly gave it the lightest of shakes.

‘Fifteenth empire? That’d make it over a hundred years old, wouldn’t it?’

‘One hundred and fifty,’ Mrs Van Dean corrected. Tiana nodded and turned to take in the brightly lit hallway.

‘Beautiful entrance,’ she commented.

‘Yes, all the cornices are original, and the stairs have recently been repainted.’

‘I love the way they go round like that,’ Tiana added and Mrs Van Dean continued to inform her that it was called a U-shaped staircase and that all the balustrades were, again, original.

‘Is there a lift?’ she asked, and the older woman gave her a look as though she’d enquired about running water.

‘Of course, there’s a lift,’ she said, and Tiana struggled to reply before opting for a deferential nod. The lady gestured a door at the end of the hall. And on opening it, Tiana found it led to a spacious living room, wherein, sat by an elegant chess board, was an elderly man being watched over by a boy in a wheelchair.

‘Winston,’ his wife called, snapping him out of his dozed state with a collection of noises.

‘Ohha uhh?’

‘This young lady’s come to look at the house,’ Mrs Van Dean explained, and Tiana mentally put her up a couple of points for calling her young lady.

‘Winston … Put your volume up!’ she shouted to her confused husband before repeating herself once he’d finished fiddling with the adjuster behind his ear. ‘Now; I’m going to show her the rest of the ground floor,’ she added, as if the cottage had more than the two. ‘Then you take her with Ethan up to the first.’

‘Ahh,’ Tiana jumped in. ‘I’ve got a little boy called Ethan.’

‘Ooh,’ Winston chirped. ‘There’s a coincidence, isn’t it dear?’ he looked over at his wife.

‘Incredible,’ she replied, barely holding back the sarcasm. ‘Now then Miss, this way to the kitchen,’ she continued and proceeded to walk off without waiting. Tiana thought she’d better follow: she feared that Mrs Van Dean would continue the tour with or without her and as she passed through the doorway, she looked back to see Mr Van Dean smiling at her. The smile said ‘Yep … we know.’

Following into the kitchen, Tiana could instantly tell it was expensive. Throughout were handmade cupboards above and below a walnut (so Mrs Van Dean told her) parquet worktop. And in the centre lay an island of the same ilk. She concluded that Mrs Van Dean was either an ex-professional or a very enthusiastic amateur cook.

Tiana persevered to keep her on a subject that she clearly had superiority on, and upon leaving the room felt like she had raised her stock by the merest of degrees. No small feat Mr Van Dean might have told her. The other rooms were despatched with in an orderly fashion and Tiana finally found the opportunity to enquire about the asking price. It wasn’t cheap but she hadn’t expected it to be.

Meanwhile, they came back into the living room where the whole hearing aid debacle was repeated before Mr Van Dean raised himself from his seat and led her to an alcove lift. Tiana exchanged smiles as they waited for the boy called Ethan to join them.

‘So … Mr Van Dean,’ she started.

‘Winston, my dear, Winston.’

‘Er, Winston,’ she corrected and already felt comfortable. ‘You’ve got a lovely house.’

‘Thank you my dear,’ he smiled, taking and patting her hand softly. Okay, so he’s a toucher, she thought, pleased to be out of Mrs Van Dean’s gaze, and wondered: how did these two ever get together?

‘Yes. We’ll be sad to leave,’ said Mr Van Dean, still holding her hand. ‘But we’re getting a bit old for it all now.’

‘Ha! Speak for yourself,’ a voice exclaimed before the boy called Ethan rolled into the lift and Winston pressed the button for ‘up’ without replying to his wife. Tiana changed the subject with a crunching of gears. ‘So, have you lived here long?’ she asked.

‘Forty years,’ Winston replied. ‘We came here with Ethan and our two other sons,’ he continued while Tiana nodded and the lift started to ascend. ‘Of course, they’re all grown up now: Tommie’s a doctor and Geoffrey has his own hair cutting place.’

‘And that just leaves little Ethan,’ said Tiana, giving the boy’s hair a good ruffle. Somehow, because he shared a name with her own son, she didn’t notice anything odd in ruffling the hair of a complete stranger. Luckily, Winston was big on physical contact.

‘The penthouse, Miss,’ he announced as the doors opened.

Over the proceeding minutes, Mr Van Dean took her through each of the rooms before opening a door onto what she instantly knew to be Ethan’s. You could hardly miss a cloud-child’s bedroom. It would always be facing east or thereabouts and would have barely a thing in it. This one, however, was exceptional. It had its own balcony, and across the walls, ceiling and most of the floor grew a vibrant-looking vine. It covered every last centimetre that wasn’t door or glass and extended through several vents out and onto the balcony. Winston gave her a few minutes to take it all in before explaining.

‘Ethan keeps it all in check,’ he said with a smile. ‘And you should taste the wine.’

‘It’s a grape vine?’ said Tiana, shaking her head in wonder.

‘Indeed. You can see the fruits starting to come,’ he said, pointing to a few undeveloped pods. ‘In a couple of months, we’ll be picking enough for about fifteen bottles. I’ve got my own press in the garage.’

‘Wow, you’ll have to show me before I go.’

‘Ahh,’ Winston beamed. ‘An enthusiast!’

‘Well, definitely of the last part,’ she added, returning the smile. ‘But I’d love to see.’

‘Right!’ Winston said, turning quicker than he’d moved yet. ‘I think Ethan will be staying up here, so if you’re ready, we’ll head back down.’ Ethan didn’t look like he was about to join them, and Tiana gave Winston a nod before following him out through the door. Before she disappeared, she glanced back and saw how content the little boy looked in his room. Could she bear to be the one who evicted him? Yet, at the same time, how much would her son love to be here? Before making it to the lift, she’d come to terms with her ambivalence. She wanted her Ethan to have it.

The doors opened and Tiana walked into the intense gaze of Mrs Van Dean. ‘Well Miss … What did you think? – I’ve made tea, how do you take it?’

She didn’t, her husband was the tea drinker, but it didn’t seem like Mrs Van Dean considered there to be an option. Winston tried to explain that he was hoping to show Tiana his winery, but was shot down before he could finish. Tiana decided that suffering a tea was worth it, to keep in Mrs Van Dean’s good books and asked for milk and three sugars to mask the taste. She received a disapproving look for her preference, but Mrs Van Dean poured it anyway.

‘Thank you,’ smiled Tiana after receiving the cup. ‘All your rooms are lovely, and Ethan’s room is a marvel in itself.’

‘Yes, it is unusual,’ the senior woman replied. ‘Ethan spends a lot of time in there and the grapes at least keep Winston from under my feet,’ she added whilst putting her cup delicately back onto its saucer. Her husband silently nodded his agreement – he, too, was glad to have the excuse.

 ‘I will certainly miss my vines,’ he confessed.

‘Well,’ prompted Tiana. ‘If things worked out, we wouldn’t mind you coming back and picking all the grapes you wanted.’

‘Oh no, that would never do,’ Mrs Van Dean said, shaking her head and causing Tiana and Winston to slowly sit back in their chairs. They both looked around the room, growing more uncomfortable as Tiana racked her mind for a conversation starter.

She coughed and absently asked, ‘Is the fireplace a real one?’

Mrs Van Dean gave a short cough into her beverage as if the question didn’t warrant an answer. She seemed comfortable with uncomfortable silences and continued sipping her tea in it. Finally, they finished their drinks and Winston slapped his chair arms before announcing that he would now show Tiana his winery. His wife gave an exasperated sigh but didn’t stop him standing and excitingly heading to the rear patio doors.

‘Thank you for the tea,’ Tiana said and received a lukewarm smile before getting up herself and following the already vanishing Winston.

Out in the garden, she could now see how far back it went. A lush lawn stretched away past trees and borders. She could see why Winston now thought the house too much work for them both. Unlike the gardens in the suburbs, this one didn’t only have a width and a length, it had height. Each border was bursting with flowers and the huge trees that dominated the garden seemed to have been there for aeons. Tiana was drawn to walk between them, but she didn’t get far before a voice called her back.

‘Sorry, Winston. I was just admiring your garden.’

‘That’s not really my area,’ he informed her. ‘This is my passion,’ he added, lifting up his arms beneath the large pergola that sat heavy with the same vine that flooded out of Ethan’s room. Tiana could see its large gnarly trunk ascending up the side of the house. She assumed correctly that half of it disappeared into the bedroom, and the other half spread across the wooden causeway that joined the whitewashed garage to the rest of the cottage. It all looked like a postcard. Winston then preceded to walk her through the entire wine making process, and it was clear that this had become more than a hobby for him: Tiana guessed that Mrs Van Dean was his inspiration.

After showing her around, Winston took her hand in his. ‘We hope to see you again.’ He said sincerely.

‘I hope so too, Mr Van Dean.’ 

‘Winston,’ he reminded her, and they passed back into the living room where Tiana made her goodbyes as Winston retook his well-worn seat and the sturdy Mrs Van Dean escorted her to the front door.

Upon reaching the car, Tiana turned to wave goodbye, but the door had already closed.

 What a delightful lady, she mused.