Chapter 1

Ophelia was the kind of woman who never got rid of anything. She had everything in her small, two bedroom town home. She had always meant to go through things to clear out useless articles like old birthday cards from people she didn’t even remember, yet something always nagged in the back of her mind that what she was throwing away might come in handy one day. Of course, the moment that it did come in handy for her, the object was nowhere in sight, and it took days for Ophelia to find what she had wanted and forgotten about what she had needed it for.
Ophelia was in no way an old woman who hoarded old news papers. She did not have a million cats, and school children did not shy away from her house to evade the smell that lonely old women exude or to avoid random articles thrown at them. No, from the outside, and even from the inside, Ophelia’s small London town home looked quite normal. The yard had been kept up nicely; the lawn was always watered, green, and mowed, and in the summer there were rose bushes by the window that were always trimmed and beautiful. Ophelia was a very organized woman, and all of the articles in her home that were not being used were up in the attic in organized and marked boxes.
She was much the kind of woman who kept things that brought up pain and sorrow whenever seen, but these things she still kept. Many of these things were from old boyfriends, things that had just migrated into her home: masculine throw-away razors that never got thrown away, old Valentine’s Day stuffed bears, articles of clothing, and even furniture. Even one, more recent boyfriend whom Ophelia had intended to marry had actually left his mother for her to care for. Ophelia’s charlatan mother-in-law didn’t seem to mind much that she was now looked after by a woman whom had no actual affection towards her. In fact, she couldn’t have even known the difference between her son and her fake daughter-in-law, for she was struck with dementia and couldn’t really understand what was going on anyway.
Richard Walson was the name of the man who had left his dear mother in the care of his ex-fiancée. He was well off, very beautiful, and almost reminded one of a modern day Narcissus, except that the women that got attached to him had no trouble letting go of him. He was extremely arrogant and very pretentious, yet Ophelia had loved him all the same. Even when he brought his mother to live with them, she neither complained nor got angry, just nodded assent and continued with her life. The one thing that did tear her love for Richard was the fact that he, with no regard towards her, still dated other women, even five months before their wedding day. Ophelia had not known, found out, and then ignored this problem in a sweep that spanned over five years time. But when she found that Richard had spent quite a bit of her money on a hotel room for one of his business executives from France three months before their wedding, Ophelia really had had enough. She threatened to kick him out absolutely. He agreed whole-heartedly to the idea, yet conned Ophelia into keeping his mother, swearing that he would send a home to come and collect her at the appropriate time.
“We don’t want to jar her too much; she’s just gotten settled into a routine here, so let’s keep it that way for as long as we can,” was his excuse walking out of the house with his bags properly packed, “I’ll send someone for her as soon as her doctors think that it’s possible.”
Well, obviously the time to move Richard’s mother never came, for it had been six months and shortly after he had moved out, Richard stopped calling to check up on his mother. Ophelia didn’t bother to find him, for she knew that when Richard didn’t want to be found, it was impossible to get a hold of him. She did nothing to get rid of his mother either. Ophelia didn’t have the kind of funding for a proper living facility for someone like Richard’s mother and in all truth, was too tired to even care. Routine was fine for her; as it was for her permanent house guest.
Every morning Ophelia got up at five-thirty to ensure that she could get ready for work and do everything that Mrs. Walson required of her. She usually ate a simple breakfast of oatmeal and tea while enjoying the sunrise. Around eight or so, a nurse named Elizabeth came ‘round to stay with Mrs. Walson.
Elizabeth was a fresh-faced, sweet-natured, twenty-something whom was working toward becoming a pediatrician. How she had ended up working for Richard and Ophelia was unknown to Ophelia, but other than his mother, Elizabeth was about the only permanent thing that Richard had established. Ophelia now paid Elizabeth, because Richard’s checks had stopped coming, though Ophelia did not mind so much. She liked Elizabeth, maybe even on the level of a friend, and she helped out a great deal with Mrs. Walson.
When Ophelia was sure that everything was in order, she would set out for the bus-stop that was a couple of blocks out of her neighborhood. She would wait at the bus-stop approximately ten minutes with the rest of her neighbors and then board the appropriate bus to Paddington Underground. Ophelia worked part-time at two different places. Her first job was at a health food store as a manager of the natural living section and then as a desk clerk for a small book shop near Piccadilly Circus. It was a book shop for tourists and was very busy selling stupid novelty items as well as books about the city, but Ophelia liked working there all the same. She didn’t really like dealing with the excited American tourists, but meeting other Europeans was fun. She had come to realize working there that she especially liked Belgians. She wasn’t sure why, but they seemed to be the politest tourists.
Ophelia worked all day from nine in the morning until six o’clock in the evening. She was working everyday of the week, but not at the same place twice in a row. Her days alternated for where she was to be working, and when it didn’t, it would always mess up her week. Ophelia never carried a schedule, but relied on her memory alone, which wasn’t very hard because she had only herself to take care of. Naturally, if she had had a husband or children or both, then she would have carried a schedule, out of necessity. She also would have most likely owned a car, but for just her now, living alone except for a batty old woman who couldn’t really walk on her own, a car was just an extra expense.