When Opportunity strikes

Jean stood under the awning and looked inside the shop window and sighed. The glass was in want of a good clean and the items displayed needed a proper dusting. A yellowing sign in the window proclaimed, 'Volunteers needed'. There were three Opportunity shops in Ballarat, and this was the most downtrodden of the trio. She had helped at the Catholic Sacred Heart Mission shop for years, but last week when she turned up for her shift she was told in no uncertain terms that as she was no longer a member of the Church her services were no longer required. When she had returned home and told Lucien he had been livid.

'How dare they!' he had ranted. 'Those scheming, nasty, coven of gossiping bit…'

'Lucien!' interrupted Jean in shock.

He ran his hand over his hair and looked at her in chagrin. 'Sorry Love. But Jean, they have no right to treat you this way, after all your years of service…' Lucien was very aware how much Jean enjoyed her volunteer work. He knew that it was a large part of who she was. Her independent and philanthropic nature was one of the many things he loved about her.

Somehow seeing how upset Lucien was on her behalf had calmed Jean down somewhat. She had resolved then and there to not let this stop her from her volunteer commitments to the community.

'Well', she sighed back at Lucien, 'I am not going to give them the satisfaction. After all, there are other Op-shops in town that need help, aren't there?'

Lucien had held her close and whispered a 'Bravo, Jean. You show them!' into her ear, pausing for a quick nibble there at the same time.

But now, standing under this sagging awning looking into the dingy shop she was having second thoughts. Jean had investigated the other large charity shop run by the Salvation Army but had found the organisation there a little too strict and 'corporate'. It wasn't just run by volunteers but had employed staff directing operations. Jean knew the Salvos did some good work and always contributed to the Red Shield appeal, but she didn't think she would fit into the culture there somehow.

So here she stood outside the independent Bathurst Animal Charities Op-Shop wondering if she was making the right decision.

'Oh well,' she thought to herself, 'In for a penny, in for a pound.' Drew in a big breath and pushed open the front door.

'Ding! Ding!' A shop bell on the front door chimed out. Jean peered into the dimly lit shop. There did not seem to be anyone in evidence.

'Hello?' she called out. 'Shop? Anyone here?'

'Be right there, Luv' called a voice from the rear of the shop. A head popped out from behind a rack of men's suits. 'Won't be a sec', just tidying up the gent's here.' Jean could see the woman's hands flicking a clothes brush over the shoulders and straightening up the coats on their hangers.

'There. All neat and tidy again.' The woman declared. Then she gave a violent sneeze. 'AaaahCHOOO!'

'Bless You!' Responded Jean, and she watched as a very short, very round woman in her late 60's with short curly ice blue hair approached her, handkerchief pressed to her nose.

'Thank you, luv. Mind, the dust in here is chronic! If I had a blessing for every time I sneezed I'd be guaranteed a spot in heaven!' chuckled the round woman. 'How can I help you, luv? Looking for something in particular?'

'Oh, no! But I was wondering if maybe I could help you?' she waved diffidently to the window sign. 'You are looking for volunteers? I have had plenty of previous experience in an Op-Shop.' Suddenly Jean was a bit afraid that she would be turned down.

'Have you now?' the woman peered near sightedly at Jean. 'Bless me!' she cried, 'I know you! Jean Beazley, isn't it? Used to work for the old Doctor Blake, right?'

'It's Mrs. Blake now, I married the young Doctor Blake last March' replied Jean with a smile, 'But I'm sorry, I don't…'

'Right! Right. I did hear something about that now that I recollect. Congratulations! Of course, you don't remember me. It's been that long! Mavis. I'm Mavis Baxter. Me and Pat used to farm that block two down for your place years ago, before the war.' Mavis beamed at Jean.

Jean looked closely at the sweetly wrinkled round face trying to recall. Then she remembered, a much younger Mavis had given her 2 or 3 pullets to raise when she and Christopher had first moved to the farm. The gift had been gratefully received, but before Jean could form a real friendship with the woman, Mavis' husband had died of a stroke and the farm had been sold. Mavis had moved to town and Jean had lost contact with her, she had not thought of the woman since that time.

'Yes, yes! I remember! Chickens! You gave me some young hens when I was first married. They were good layers and a god-send.' Replied Jean gratefully.

'Auch, that's a long time past now. Lots of water under the bridge since then, I daresay!' responded Mavis with a smile. 'What brings you to my little shop? You want to volunteer you say? Last I heard you were in thick with the Sacred Heart group.' Mavis shot Jean a sharp look.

'Humph. Apparently, my services are no longer required.' Said Jean shortly.

Mavis pursed her lips. 'I see which way the wind lies. Well, I have had my run ins with those cats myself! And speaking of cats, you do know this charity shop is run in support of various animal aid societies? RSPCA, Lost Dog Home, Cat Rescue Service, Horse and Farm Animal support, that kind of thing. Its' not a people focused charity.'

Jean smiled. 'Seems there should be enough charity to go around to support our four-legged friends as well.' Mavis nodded in pleased agreement.

'So, you obviously have the experience, but tell me, what can you offer us? Not to put too fine a point on it, we need the help, but the help must be useful to us. We've had some come in who just want to 'help the pretty kitties', they last a week, don't lift a finger and then leave.' Mavis was a canny woman.

'Well,' mused Jean as she looked around the shop, 'the first thing I'd do is wash that front window! And dust the display. In fact, I'd change the display if I could, that one looks like it has been there since Adam was a lad. Then, I'd help straighten up the shop. Like you say, the dust is chronic.'

Mavis gave a hoot of laughter. 'Perfect! I've been wanting that done for ages. I'm a bit too broad in the beam these days to get into that window space, but you, you're still a little slip of a thing and can wriggle right in. But beware, our Hoover gave up the ghost last year and no one has donated a working replacement, so it's brooms, dusters, buckets and mops.' Mavis smiled at Jean. 'And how often would you be able to help? We've got a couple of volunteers rostered on for most the week, but Tuesdays' I'm on my own and I could sure use a hand.'

'Tuesday would be good. How about I bring my vac in for the day?' suggested Jean.

Mavis smiled. 'That would be grand! Fancy a cuppa tea, luv?' she asked. And at Jeans nod, lead her to the back of the shop into a private office alcove with a sign hung over the entry saying, 'Staff Only'. Further down the rear hallway Jean could see another room stacked with boxes and barrels of goods. The storeroom, she supposed.

'This is our little kingdom.' Declared Mavis. The little room was neat and tidy, a bank of filing cabinets against the far wall with precisely labelled drawers. There was a small desk with slots for letters and stationery that also held an old black rotary dial phone. Two desk chairs squeezed into the small space. In one corner next to a small sink was a tea trolley with electric kettle and jars containing instant coffee, teabags and sugar.

Suddenly Mavis gave a shout out to the rear storeroom. 'Ben! Benjamin Parker! Stir yerself and go get us some milk for our teas!' There was a mumble and grumble from the back room, then a slam of a door.

'That's Ben,' indicated Mavis. 'He's does all the collecting and pickups in his ute. He is also supposed to bring the milk in every day, but he always forgets. Nice bloke, but a bit slack on the uptake. Likes to sit out there in the storeroom and think.'

'Well, first perk of the job,' continued Mavis, 'is that you go out there to the shop and pick out a mug or teacup for yourself.' Jean returned to the shop and scanned the wall of shelves holding various crockery and glasses. She picked out a delicate china mug with roses, violets and forget-me-nots painted on to it, then returned to the office.

'Ha!' chortled Mavis. 'You've got a good eye, I see! That's Royal Albert. Bone china, it is. 1940 or so, one of the Chintz style mugs. Usually came in a set of 6, so this is a lonely one.' Mavis turned on the tap at the sink and proceeded to wash the mug. After drying it thoroughly with a tea towel that hung from a rail over the sink, Mavis then took a black marker pen from the desk and wrote JEAN on the bottom of the cup. 'Right, that's yours.

'It is pretty.' Commented Jean as she watched Mavis turn the kettle on.

'Yes, no real value though, not without the other 5. And some of the print has worn off, but pretty all the same. After a while you get to know about things like that.' Mavis looked at Jean, 'Well, pull up a chair and let's sort some things out.'

Just then they heard the squeal of the rear door opening and Ben shuffled into the office. Jean looked at Ben in surprize, he would be eighty if he was a day! Ben silently handed over the bottle of milk to Mavis who took it without comment except to say, 'Ben, this here is Jean. She'll be helping me out on Tuesdays.' Ben just grunted and shuffled off.

'Old Ben never has much to say for himself.' Observed Mavis.

The two ladies sat together with steaming cups of tea and filled out the appropriate forms for insurance purposes and discussed what Jean's role would be as a volunteer of the shop. Mavis talked Jean through the running of the shop, accounts, receiving and sorting of goods, arrangement for cleaning of clothes, how to price, when to call in an expert to value, how to display, how much and to whom the profits were allocated to and all the intricacies of running a second-hand shop. Jean grew more and more impressed with Mavis' business acumen.

As well, while they were talking the shop bell dinged several times and Mavis would help the shopper find what they needed. An elderly gentleman looking for a new cardigan, a young mother hoping for a dolly for her daughter, a pair of older women who nattered and chattered and tried on several things in the change room before leaving them on a heap on the floor and waltzing out without buying anything.

Mavis muttered under her breath about the two women as Jean helped to rehang the discarded clothing. 'Some people…'

Jean sighed. 'Those two! They have almost been banned from the Sacred Heart shop. I don't know why they do that, they never buy anything, just create a mess.'

'You get all types,' responded Mavis as they returned to the alcove office. 'I've seen them all. Some real down and outers who just need a hand and will pay the ticket price without complaint, to rich ones who try and haggle you down. Antique dealers and rag and bone men trying to put one over us. And the ones who just look and look and pick over everything hoping to find a lost treasure. Only treasure I ever found was a five-pound note in a coat pocket!' Both women laughed.

….

Over the next few months Jean slotted in nicely to the routine of the Animal Charities Op Shop. She soon found out that she was one of the younger volunteers in the shop. The other 4 or 5 ladies who helped on other days were well into their 60's and 70's and had found it difficult to do some of the heavier cleaning and maintenance, hence the dingy atmosphere when Jean had first viewed the place. She had great satisfaction cleaning the front window to a sparkling shine, hoovering and dusting out the place from top to bottom. Changing the light bulbs to a higher wattage also made a huge difference – no one had been game to climb the ladder and the shop owner would only put in cheap, dull bulbs. She made the front window display her own and every second week would rearrange and place new items in the window to attract customers. Jean also instituted a 'donation box' at the front door where people could, if they wanted to, drop in small items of dog or cat food to be distributed to the Lost Dogs' Home.

Jean found that she was enjoying her Tuesday's in the shop greatly. She and Mavis got on well together and enjoyed each other's company. Unlike the Sacred Heart shop, where for years she had only been assigned to folding, hanging or sorting clothes, Mavis expected Jean to take on every aspect of running the shop. Jean especially loved meeting and talking with the people who came into the shop, and the regular customers soon found that Jean had a very sympathetic ear. In fact, some customers made it a point to shop on Tuesdays just to see and speak with Jean. Even the laconic Ben eventually warmed up to her enough to wish her a 'Gidday' every morning.

So, Jean was very upset when the thefts began. Just little things at first, but always the items with a few pounds more value than most of the goods. Then clothing started to disappear. A Fox fur coat, a black evening dress, even a satin wedding dress! But most upsetting of all was that the thefts seemed to only occur on a Tuesday.

But theft wasn't the worst of if it. The worst was when Ben was murdered in the back room.