Chapter 1.

                                    

                                          
The contrasting differences between the two women were as stark as the houses they were each moving into directly across the street from each other.  
                          
In front of the east facing house stood Joan, a tall and formidable woman with a shiny metal clipboard in her hands, checking off items on her neatly typed list as she watched the men move the furniture into her new house. It was simply another task for her, just another interstate relocation for work. If she'd done it once she'd done it a hundred times and nothing much seemed to change with every new move. The crisp morning wind began to chill her cheeks as she stood in her place of supervision, overseeing the workers she was entrusting with her worldly possessions. She was far more used to the warmth of sunny, tropical Queensland than the frosty mornings of Melbourne.
                          
Her stiff black slacks seemed to absorb the cool rays of sunlight much the same as her hair, only with grey strands scattered here and there that shone silver in the sun. Her dark green blouse didn't betray a single crease and her black heels were perfectly buffed and polished. The woman watched with an attentive eye as the men carted plastic covered furniture and boxed items from the large enclosed truck. Even the removalists portrayed the same ideology as the woman who was paying their wages for the day. They worked quietly and carefully, all wearing the same uniform, tidy and pressed, their heavy duty black steel capped boots all of the same design and polished to a bright shine, their caps all in place, forward, with crisp embroidery against the black fabric. 
                          
The woman reflected the house itself. Sitting on a long skinny block; the house was built tall with modern architecture relying on angles and colours to accentuate its harshness rather than its softness.  Up high on top of the second floor the silver tin roof sat at one even angle across the entire building, rather than a middle gable. It was different, different to all the other houses on the street, different to all the other houses in the whole suburb. Joan found that she actually liked this house, she liked the big open space inside and the low maintenance gardens, she liked how the rooms were squared well and the walls showed a stiff straightness as they stretched on, she liked that it wasn't what you would expect. She thought that maybe she would live here for longer than a handful of years this time. 
                          
Blinds were evident in each window, a medium gray colour present in each glass opening to the facade. Even the front door was hidden from prying eyes by a short alcove or somewhat of a corridor rather than an open veranda. It seemed to make it difficult to move a lot of the furniture through. Joan made her disappointment known to the workmen when she was forced to open the sectional door to the double garage which led through to the back yard for the majority of the furniture to be carried through.
                          
Even her car parked on the street in front of her new dwelling reflected the same strength and power as the woman and her house. At first glance it appeared to be a simple sedan but the way the deep black and shiny chrome reflected the sunlight almost made the vehicle seem like a frightening opponent rather than a simple transportation device. It oozed the kind of energy that made you think any kind of accident would definitely have been your own fault in the end, no matter the circumstances. The large chrome Mercedes badge sparkled proudly on the front black grille as though it was a trophy more than an emblem.
                          
On the other side of the road the woman moving into the west facing house was a polar opposite. Kate had mousey brown hair with blonde highlights and tips that seemed to shine bright with the sunlight even though it was tied up in a loose messy bun at the back of her head. A bright floral bandana was wound around her hairline to hold fly away's and drop out's away from her face. She wore a traditional style but obviously very worn red and black plaid shirt tied loosely at her waist with a double knot and the waist high light blue denim jeans hugged her figure right down past her frayed knees to her dirty flats which looked like they were once white. Dirty smudge marks from fingers were present on the thighs and hips of her jeans where she had obviously wiped a dirty hand more than once.