That memorable
night in the ‘70s began with an invitation to dinner at Colin and Diane’s new
place. We hadn’t seen them as often as we did when they showed us around
Vancouver in the early days but we were still friendly. Diane and Christine
came up with some interesting schemes when they got together.
The new
place was on 12th Avenue. It was a flat in a low rise building just
down from city hall, not an area I was very familiar with. It seemed like a
pretty good part of town. We found their door and rang the bell. There were
footsteps and then the sound of a door chain being released and then another
and another. Chris and I exchanged puzzled looks as we waited for the door to
open. Then there was Diane’s smiling face and there were hugs all around.
Chris asked
her about the locks. Diane shrugged, “Lot’s of crime in the area,” she said. We
had a great evening eating, chatting and playing a game. But, as I sat there I
started to feel uneasy, like someone was walking across my grave. Was it the
thought of all those locks to keep out intruders or was there something else
that had me rattled?
The feeling
didn’t go away after that night. From remarks that she let drop I knew that
Chris was uneasy about something as well. The feelings festered until we came
out and discussed them. We both felt that something bad was going to happen. We
had to get out of Vancouver. So that was how we ended up in Calgary.
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