Euphoria

Most unusually, dark haired Josephine Barry was a single woman of independent means; how Marilla never quite worked out. When questioned Josephine would wave airily saying 'oh a bit of this and a bit of that'. Marilla decided it didn't matter either way. Josephine was most amazingly generous with her time, money and succour. A unique character, Josephine refused to toe the line when it came to matters of gender roles, eschewing marriage or men at all it appeared. She was known for her sumptuous parties and patronage of the arts. As a result, she harboured an eclectic array of Prince Edward Island's most stimulating citizens. Each year she threw the most magnificent costume parties, an invitation to which was considered an invitation into high society.

Josephine never divulged how the family came by their fortune. In truth because she was mortified by the way in which her father made his money. Mr Barry sold cigarettes on the black market during the last war. He considered himself a shrewd businessman, but Josephine could never live down the shame and as a result, she spent her inheritance on philanthropic causes; championing the arts and other charities. When she was young, Josephine would join her classmates as they fawned over the boys but secretly it was the girls she most admired. Men never held any allure. As she grew older she eschewed any dalliances with boys, much to her parents' dismay. When they died Josephine was free to embark on a life of hedonism with her female friends, holding marvellous parties and events in the private confines of the family mansion.

She had family in Avonlea, and it was through them that Marilla and she had become acquainted. Although quiet, Josephine recognised a latent spirit deep in Marilla's psyche. They had met at a dance where her cousin William Barry had introduced them briefly before dashing off to dance with yet another pretty girl. His mother had made him escort her to the dance and he was keen to offload Josephine to give him more time for fun. Marilla and Josephine had stood chatting desultorily by the punch bowl, the air thick with smoke. The band was loud making it hard to talk. "Let's go," Marilla yelled at her new acquaintance over the music.

Grabbing a couple of drinks, she led the older woman through the crowd. Outside it was deliciously cool and quiet, muffled music drifted through the air. The stars twinkled brightly in the clear night sky above a string of white fairy lights. "Ah, that's better," said Josephine contently. Marilla nodded as she passed her a cup of bright red punch. "What do they put in this?" Josephine asked suspiciously, "do they try it first?". Marilla giggled; she had always wondered the same thing. The stuff was cold but unappetising. Nearby a group of boys were augmenting the stuff from hipflasks. Josephine followed their lead pulling a clandestine bottle from her cleavage. Marilla looked at her in shock, "want some?" Josephine asked.

"Uh, huh," Marilla nodded staring at the bottle.

"Only thing that makes the stuff palatable," said Josephine as she poured a healthy slug of the booze into both cups. Leaning back against the wall she took a swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, "so Marilla Cuthbert, tell me about yourself."

Not really knowing why, Marilla poured her heart out to this exotic woman. Telling her about her failed relationship to John Blythe, her friendship with Rachel Lynde and lastly about her ridiculous infatuation with the odious Jean Pouce. "Doesn't that mean John Thumb?" asked Josephine quizzically."

Marilla nodded, "it should have been a warning sign, I suppose. He had no sense of humour about it, none at all."

Josephine waved her self-admonishment away, "it's easy to make mistakes when you're in the middle of something." Marilla sipped at the drink; whatever Josephine had added certainly improved the taste. "What's in it?" she asked shyly pointing the place she knew the bottle now resided.

"Secret family recipe," replied Josephine, tapping the side of her nose with her index finger. I only share the stuff with friends. He," she looked pointedly towards the hall implying that she was talking about her cousin, "won't be pouring any of it down his arrogant throat. Anyway, your John Thumb," she said, deliberately anglifying his name. "Sounds like a pompous arse."

Marilla hung her head still somewhat embarrassed that she let Jean trample over her like that. "Hey, I'm not blaming you," Josephine placed one conciliatory hand on Marilla's arm for a fraction longer than socially acceptable, and with a firmer grip than Marilla expected. "You have to be strong, Marilla Cuthbert. You have to look that blunder in the face and admit you made a mistake and promise never to do it to yourself again. But," she gripped tighter, "don't blame yourself for being compassionate. That is an admirable quality, my friend. Can I call you my friend?" she asked, at which Marilla nodded. "It's not as if you're the first woman to fall for someone like Mr Thumb, nor I'm afraid that you'll be the last. Just make him your last, okay?"

Tears sprung to Marilla's eyes and her throat closed up, as she nodded her approval. No one had ever spoken to her so compassionately before. Her family had merely let her back into the house but had never really spoken about Jean and Rachel had enough on her mind; she had another baby to care for and Marilla knew she was pregnant yet again.

Marilla had a great deal to think about over the next few months. On Josephine's advice, she stopped feeling sorry for herself and filled her life with her career and made sure she made the most of various social occasions as they cropped up. Her colleagues were a fun bunch and she enjoyed going out to the movies or to dances with a group of them. Occasionally she would flirt with one of the men; even sharing the odd kiss now and again. But it never came to anything because honestly she was more attracted to the more intelligent girls. Yet Marilla did not feel drawn to anyone in particular and was particularly wary of making new close connections. Unwittingly she became the sort of woman people liked but never really grew intimate with.


When an invitation arrived in the mail to visit Josephine Barry in Charlottetown some months later, Marilla stared at it with interest turning the card over and over in her hands. She had never seen Josephine again after that evening, but she remembered her nonchalant insouciance with a sort of thrill. Josephine bucked society's norms, preferring to live life her own way. Marilla hoped some of that joie de vivre might rub off.

Eying off her wardrobe, Marilla wished she had a girlfriend to help her make a choice; ordinarily she would have invited Rachel over, but she had just given birth and was enjoying a much needed rest in hospital The invitation was vague about dress requirements, but the last thing Marilla wanted was to appear to be a country hick. Eventually, with almost every item in her wardrobe flung over the bed, she had assembled a somewhat satisfactory outfit. She wasn't entirely happy, but it would have to do.

It was with some misgivings and no understanding of what she might find at the end of her journey that Marilla drove her old dodge truck to Charlottetown that fall afternoon. Josephine's doorbell had the most sonorous tone which Marilla felt down to her toes. She waited for a few minutes standing with trepidation on the doorstep feeling very self-conscious, her dilapidated carpet bag clutched in both hands. It had started to drizzle and the wind blew the rain in sideways, the portico providing little cover. Marilla was just about to give up and go home when a startling blue eye suddenly appeared through a peephole in the middle of the door. Apparently satisfied, whomever it was opened the door revealing Josephine Barry dressed in a marvellous azure dressing gown covered in an intricate design of peacock feathers, "I am so dreadfully sorry to keep you waiting, my dear. Oh and it's raining, goodness, what sort of a host am I?" said Josephine in her always surprisingly deep voice. She reached forward for Marilla's bag and gave her a sumptuous kiss on the lips to Marilla's shock but secret delight. Touching her lips with her fingers, she followed Josephine into the house.

The hallway was lined with the deepest crimson wallpaper and sumptuously deep piled carpet. It felt to Marilla as if she were re-entering the womb and when Josephine saw her enquiring glances she grinned and answered, "I know," to Marilla's unspoken comment. As they walked Josephine tossed Marilla's bag into a corner muttering, "won't be needing that for a while." She turned to give Marilla an intriguing wink and smiled evilly. At the end of the hall stood a heavy carved wooden door, Josephine leant forward in front of Marilla and opened it inwards.

Marilla stopped in the entrance and stared at the scene before her. All manner of semi-dressed women lay languidly across the floor, the furniture and each other. Lamps at each corner struggled to shed their light against the heavy aromatic smoke emanating from a myriad of vibrantly coloured hookah pipes dotted around the room. In a corner a record player was playing psychotropic music and women were moaning and whispering in a constant susurration. One woman clothed only in a towel around her midriff, legs outspread hair just covering the tops of her breasts puffed on a pipe while her languid eyes played up and down Marilla's body appraisingly.

Marilla had a choice now, she could either flee the house and return to her somewhat lacklustre life in Avonlea; the image of yet another dull night sat by the radio with her family came briefly to mind. Or she could embrace the scene before her.

Josephine practically felt her thought process as Marilla stiffened in shock at her side, but she said nothing. It could go either way. Sometimes girls ran from it all and she let them go. It was a personal choice. Sometimes those women even returned, unable to get the idea out of their mind; sometimes she never saw them again except when they crossed the street with averted faces to avoid her.

To Josephine's delight, Marilla turned to her with a shy smile, her body imperceptibly relaxing. She nodded slightly and barely noticed Josephine unzipping her frock. It puddled around her feet as she stepped out clothed now only in her girdle. "I do hope you enjoy yourself, my dear," Josephine whispered in her ear as she pulled and played on her earlobe with her insistent tongue, "do try the pipe, I find it lends an enchanting ambience to the occasion." A few puffs sent a drug coursing through Marilla's system lowering her inhibitions. Her girdle was soon lost in the detritus of clothing covering the floor.

There followed the most marvellous Sapphic bacchanalia. All manner of women met her every desire or whim. Acts that were beyond her wildest imagination were performed on and by her throughout the next rapturous hours as time passed in a haze. Marilla understood as she never had before what she had missed out on when Jean perched on top of her, though she suspected even he had no idea how marvellous making love could be. Josephine had one ear attuned to the doorbell and every so often would arise cover herself in her gown, disappear and introduce new women to the mix a few minutes later. Marilla and the other women would welcome them with cries of welcome; offering the pipe and smothering the newcomers with kisses and more besides.

A dazed Marilla emerged three days later. She had gathered her crumpled clothes and put them back on, barely recalling the disquiet she felt when putting her wardrobe together days earlier. She waved her new friends good bye with promises to return soon.


Life took on an exquisite flavour henceforth and these pleasurable interludes made dozy Avonlea more bearable. Sometimes she dreamed of moving in with Josephine or at least closer to her, but she wasn't sure she could bear to live in the busy town. It was a nice place to visit, but she preferred to stay in Avonlea and use Charlottetown as an occasional bolthole.

"What do you do up there?" Matthew asked her one day. It was difficult to answer, how to explain the delicious days and nights spent in rapturous fervour to her quiet brother?

"We play music and cards, and er other things," she finished lamely, smiling inwardly when she remembered the way Josephine had straddled her the day before, her body was particularly beautiful when viewed from below.

"Hm," said Matthew. "Doesn't sound that interesting to me." He turned away confused, no idea what the attraction was. As far as he could see, there was no reason Marilla would rush to town to play cards. Women were odd, there was no two ways about it. Cows were predictable, women not so much.