‘And I also want to thank George Sebastian Wallace. For being such an inspiration. If it wasn’t for George, I wouldn’t be where I am today.’
In her mind she added, ‘Thank you for not forgetting me.’
She took a breath, which the audience took as their cue to make with more clapping. Morgan decided to quit while she was ahead. After all, they still had the place getters to get through. She shook the presenter’s hand again. A helper guided her towards a studio backstage, where they’d have their photos taken.
From the side of the stage, she cast a final look at the audience and saw George standing in her vacant seat. He made a flourishing bow, then blew her a kiss. Morgan blew him one back.
He pretended to catch the kiss in his hand and pressed it to his heart. The small act melted Morgan’s.
‘Please come this way for the photos,’ the helper said.
‘Of course.’ She couldn’t help smiling. A few months ago, she wouldn’t have set foot in a room full of cameras. A wry grin caught her by surprise – it was only one camera. Absolutely nothing to worry about.
‘I can do this.’ She straightened her shoulders and took her place beside the other highly commended student.
The photographer radiated politeness and asked them to look in the same direction. A smile came naturally as she mentally said ‘cheese’. Hadn’t George encouraged her to be herself, do her best and enjoy every moment?
Gazing down the barrel of the lens, Morgan smiled again.
Look out world, here I come.
20
Years and Years Later
The pills rattled in the paper cup. With shaking hands, Morgan lifted them to her lips. ‘Have the glass of water ready, otherwise they stick to my tongue. They taste horrible.’
Age and rheumatism had swollen her joints. The coral ring now lived on her pinky finger.
‘Yes Granny,’ the girl, Olive – well, she was an adult now but in Morgan’s eyes her granddaughter was only a girl – had the glass ready, with the straw in the lid.
These horrible plastic cups with lids on them. Only good for babies and old people. Ruined the taste of good mineral water, they did. ‘Urgh, that’s enough, I don’t want any more.’ She waved the rest of the pills away.
‘You promised you’d be good,’ now the baby was bossing her about?
‘Meh, I’d promise to lick the road clean if they gave me a day of freedom. Urgh, you’ve no idea what it’s like in that place. They’re all old.’
‘You’re old too, you know!’ Olive said with a wink.
‘Yes but I’ve still got it all up here,’ Morgan patted the side of her head. Her head warmed from the sun. It was so lovely to sit out on the lawn. Shame her scooter left such great ruts in the ground. ‘I never feel old except when you have a birthday. Happy fortieth, darling. That makes me feel very old!’
‘Thanks for the reminder.’
Morgan looked over to her great grandsons. ‘Why haven’t the boys come over and given me a kiss?’
‘They will.’ Olive adjusted the blanket over Morgan’s knees. ‘Let them run off their energy first. You need to take the rest of your pills.’
‘What I’d really like is a cup of tea, dear.’
‘Yes Granny.’ Olive gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘You’ll be all right here for a bit?’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Morgan watched the boys kick the football back and forth, her left foot twitching in appreciation. That was Andrew on the left? Wouldn’t be so difficult if Olive stopped dressing them the same.
My goodness but they had energy. They ran so fast Morgan’s eyes blurred. She blinked a few times but her eyesight failed to improve.
Stupid cataracts playing up again.
Blink, blink. The sun was out, but the world became steeped in fog. Her limbs vibrated and one side of her body felt heavy all of a sudden.
One of the boys stopped playing and turned towards Morgan.
At least, it looked like one of the boys. Or maybe it was somebody else?
The man stepped closer, his details became clearer.
It was the black boots that came into focus first.
Black riding boots. Black pants and a riding jacket. And the top hat, mustn’t forget the hat.
As she looked at the lad’s face, she couldn’t help smiling.
Because it wasn’t her great grandchild walking towards her, it was George Sebastian Wallace.
‘You took your time,’ She said.
George made a polite bow. ‘I am so pleased to see you. You haven’t changed in the slightest.’
‘I got old, George.’
‘I am delighted to see that. You look absolutely marvellous.’
Tears made things blurrier. She pressed her lips together, holding the emotions back. ‘I missed you so much.’
He extended his hand. She reached for him.
‘My love, I’ve always been here for you.’ Their fingers touched, feeling more solid than they ever had before.
Without needing help, Morgan stood up from her scooter chair. Her legs moved with ease, her hand trembled not from age but from nerves.
Slowly, the scenery changed and so did her clothes. Morgan looked down to find herself wearing a corseted dress and heeled boots of Victorian times. They were in George’s version of his family home of Bradenfield. Light filled the room, bouncing off the polished furniture.
‘You waited for me. You never forgot me.’
‘My beautiful Morgan.’ he kissed her hand. ‘You are unforgettable.’
‘Does this mean that I’m . . ?’
‘Yes. It does. I hope that’s not too upsetting for you?’
‘Will I forget them?’
‘No. They are part of you. They will always be in your heart.’
Light shone through the window into this Victorian idyll. Everything looked so perfect, so complete, so . . .
‘George, what is that doing there?’
He held her hand and guided her towards it. ‘I couldn’t resist. I created this room from my favourite memories. And that piece of furniture by the window, my love, is one of the most indelible memories of our time together.’
Morgan couldn’t help smiling as he guided her to sit beside him on the chaise longue. Not an antique from Victorian times but the one from her teenage bedroom. The one that was so garishly, hideously pink.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said.
‘You’re happy?’
‘Oh yes. Perfectly happy.’ She rested her head on his shoulder.
‘I’m so glad. Now, tell me about all the adventures you had.’
‘Where do I start?’
He tilted her head and gave her the sweetest kiss. When he drew back his look of adoration was her undoing. ‘Start any place you like. We have all the time in the world.’
The End
About the Author
Ebony McKenna is the author of the well-loved four-part Ondine series, about a girl whose pet ferret starts talking with a Scottish accent. (The ferret is really a man who offended a witch, and Ondine will do whatever she can to break the spell.)
She has lived all over Victoria, including Lorne, Maldon, Narre Warren and Ballarat. But not in that order.
At one point her mother *almost* bought The Clarkfield Hotel to turn it into a restaurant, not knowing it was one of the most haunted buildings in the state. But that’s another story.
These days she lives in suburban Melbourne and is busy dreaming up more adventures.
If you’ve enjoyed reading this book, please consider leaving a review on your favourite website, whether a retailer, Goodreads or a blog. Reviews are oxygen for authors.
* * *
Come and say hello
www.ebonymckenna.com
[email protected]
Also by Ebony McKenna
The Ondine series (in reading order)
The Summer of Shambles
The Autumn Palace
The Winter of
Magic
The Spring Revolution
Other novels
1916-ish
Robyn and the Hoodettes
Short stories
Lara’s Christmas Gamble
Dangerous Honesty (from the Dangerous Boys anthology)
I’m Still Here (from The Hauntings of Livingstone Hall anthology)
The Woman Who Saved The World And Was Hated For It
Non Fiction
Edit Your Own Romance Novel 3 Books in 1
Backburning Backstory (Edit Your Own Romance Book 1)
The 13 Main Scenes (Edit Your Own Romance Book 2)
The Staircase of Turning Points (Edit Your Own Romance Book 3)
Acknowledgments
Thank you Ellie, Nicole, Skye, Lily, Amie, Jay, Dave, Eliza, Liz, Kat, Cat and Will. Seeing how much you were writing made me work even harder to get this book finished and in great shape. Plus, being with you meant I only had to cook one meal in five days. The freedom in not having to think about cooking dinner (for me or anyone) is a prize above diamonds.
Extra love to my wonderful buddies in The Saturday Ladies’ Bridge Club; Sara, Alison, Louise, Clare, Denise, Carol and Pauline for being the best cheer squad ever.
Tip of the hat to Raewyn for giving me the lowdown on how tram drivers deal with power outages and sudden stops.
Hugs to my husband and son for putting up with my crazy mood swings.
Biggest thanks and love to my readers all over the world. You keep me going. And to the booksellers who keep recommending my books to new readers. You are my heroes.
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