Tracing Invisible Threads

by C. Fonseca

  Eleanor reached inside her jacket. With the camera’s silent shutter, she could blend into the scene, focus, and shoot. It was slim and compact enough that she could remain inconspicuous even in a busy public space. She’d learnt many invaluable photographic techniques from her aunt, but most importantly, Helen had taught her how to view her subjects with an artist’s eye.

  Eleanor discreetly drew the Leica onto the rucksack, her thumb perfectly positioned to press the button. Sometimes photographing perfectly mundane, everyday moments could bring unexpected joy.

  “I am so sorry I’m late.”

  At the sound of a woman’s deep and melodious voice, Eleanor turned. “Katherine,” she said, smoothly tucking the camera back into her jacket. Their gazes met, and she smiled sheepishly. This was, unquestionably, not her mother’s old school friend.

  “I do apologise, Ms Heysen.” The woman held out her hand. “I’m Alexa Bellamy. Katherine Kent was called away at the last moment. An emergency meeting.” Her gaze swept back and forth across the foyer, glossy deep brown hair swinging over her shoulders, brushing the surface of her crisp, black-as-midnight shirt. “You’re probably aware the library has been undergoing a major refurbishment.”

  A faint flush heated Eleanor’s skin, working its way from her neck to her cheeks. Alexa Bellamy. There she stood, her tall and graceful figure quirkily fitted out in a collared, wide-cuffed shirt and flared houndstooth-weave trousers, as if she was ready for a photo shoot. Alexa. Sounded like elixir, a magical potion.

  “Ms. Heysen?”

  Eleanor inclined her head to meet intense hazel eyes. “Hello, Alexa.” She reached out and grasped Alexa’s hand in a brief, firm handshake before tucking her own hand into her jacket pocket. “Please, call me Eleanor.”

  “I am really sorry to have kept you waiting, Eleanor.”

  Alexa’s lush brows curved above eyes that twinkled under the suspended gallery lighting. A starburst of hazel-green and grey-blue hues. Eleanor found it hard to look away.

  “Katherine sends her apologies.” Alexa’s lips turned up in a slight smile.

  Eleanor traced her finger over the outline of her phone that sat snugly in the back pocket of her jeans. She hadn’t received a message from her mother’s friend. “You’re definitely not Katherine.”

  Alexa cleared her throat. “No.” Those same perfect brows slanted in a frown, and she folded her hands primly in front of her. “I work in Pictorial Collections. I’m a historian, photo archivist, and librarian. Katherine asked me to assist you in her absence.”

  Eleanor swallowed. “My turn to apologise. I was taken by surprise.”

  “Really? Oh, I’m sorry I’m not who you were expecting.”

  The tone of her voice and her languid yet striking posture exuded confidence. Let’s face it, Alexa Bellamy did not fit the stereotype of the demure, introverted librarian often portrayed in pop culture. Not at all. In fact, she smashed it. “I’m not sorry,” Eleanor muttered, giving Alexa a wide grin to prove just how not sorry she was.

  She lowered her gaze to the polished floorboards, giving herself a moment before finally looking up to meet Alexa’s alluring gaze again. “It’s been a long time since I was here. I didn’t expect to like the changes, but I do. It’s awesome.” She was relieved to see Alexa’s gentle smile. “I can’t believe there are students sitting in the entrance welcome zone loudly discussing assignments. And people playing computer games. Actually, there isn’t a book in sight.” Eleanor didn’t usually ramble. She stopped herself, hoping Alexa hadn’t noticed.

  “That’s because it’s not a lending library. You’ll have noticed all the guards. You can’t borrow our books to take them out, but they can be read and researched in one of the study spaces and reading rooms.”

  “Oh, of course. I knew that.” Eleanor rubbed the back of her neck. Why am I acting like a fool? Reaching around for her rucksack, she said, “I have Aunt Helen’s slides with me. Do you want to see them now?”

  “Well, that is why you’re here, Eleanor,” Alexa said with a twinkle in her eyes. “I have a viewing room booked for us in the South-East Wing. Follow me.”

  Alexa set off at a brisk walking pace, and Eleanor hurried after her. They weaved in between and around people, out of the gallery foyer, and through a vast room with curved architraves and a high glass-panelled roof. Eleanor was happy that the skirting mezzanine balcony was still lined with wooden shelving and rows upon rows of books, just as it had been when she was a student.

  At the far end of the room, they stopped at a barely noticeable doorway tucked behind a neatly stacked bookshelf. Eleanor didn’t know what caused the fluttering in her stomach, but when Alexa had to lean across her to swipe the magnetic card that hung from a lanyard around her neck across a small metal pad, she held her breath. The metal door slid open with a soft whoosh, revealing an unexpectedly light-filled hallway flanked on both sides by wooden doors, all firmly closed. Talk about a rabbit warren. It would be easy to get lost here.

  “It’s all very mysterious,” Eleanor whispered as Alexa stopped outside one of the doors and turned the handle. The lofty room with sand-coloured walls contained an oversized timber desk, two upholstered chairs, and a grey metal locker.

  Alexa arched one perfect eyebrow. “Come inside.”

  Eleanor passed through the narrow entrance close enough that her arm brushed lightly against Alexa’s. She inhaled deeply. Alexa’s scent was reminiscent of a Marrakesh garden. Warm and subtly sensuous. Eleanor felt the sudden urge to run away right now, except that she’d never find her way out of the library.

  Almost as if Alexa could read Eleanor’s mind, she shut the door behind her with a soft clunk. She placed the folder that had been tucked under her arm onto the desk and set her leather satchel down beside it. “I think the mystery has only just begun.” She gestured to the rucksack in Eleanor’s hands. “Should we get right to it then?”

  “Yes.” Eleanor nodded. The slides were a precious link to Helen and even though she was excited at the prospect of learning more about them, a small part of her was reluctant to hand them over to a stranger. “Yes,” she repeated, more firmly. “This is what my aunt wanted.”

  Chapter 4

  Throw the dice

  Alexa reached for her satchel and retrieved her trusty tool kit, bouncing lightly on her toes. She loved this part of her job. The beginning of a journey, the anticipation, the not knowing what would be revealed always sent tingles down her spine. She unrolled a rectangle of Polyfelt liner onto the desk and laid out one pair of blue powderless nitrile gloves, one pair of white cotton gloves, a roll of acid-free measuring paper tape, a pair of tweezers, a magnifying eyepiece, and a flat dust brush. She rubbed her hands together in satisfaction once everything was in its place.

  She looked up to find Eleanor clutching her bag to her chest, peering at her from where she’d remained by the door. Her reticence was intriguing. Eleanor was strikingly good looking too, with broody eyes and clear, light-olive skin. Alexa gave a barely audible sigh.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got.” Alexa patted the top of the desk. Okay, the art of subtlety was not her strong point. She needed to work on that, but Eleanor had on edge written all over her and Alexa had to put her at ease. “Excuse my rudeness. Please sit down.”

  Eleanor placed her well-worn bag on the floor beside the desk and sat in the office chair. She flicked her short, wavy hair back with a brush of her hand. Was this a nervous habit? In the glow of the pendant light, her hair was enriched to warm honey brown.

  “Would you like to show me what you have?” Alexa asked.

  There was a hint of apprehension in Eleanor’s eyes as she gazed at Alexa. “Yes, of course. As you said, that is why I’m here.”

  Alexa blinked, pulled the chair closer to the desk, and sat down. Yes, that is why she’s here. It isn’t a date.

  Eleanor leaned over and
loosened the leather cord at the top of the bag. With two hands, she reached inside and slowly pulled out a large, heavily decorated rectangular box, teal blue in colour. “Where shall I put it?”

  “Right here.” Alexa pointed to a clear space on the desk.

  “This is just how we received the slides,” Eleanor said. “They were in this box, in a trunk with my Aunt Helen’s belongings.” She smoothed both hands over the lacquered lid, then placed them on either side of the container. Her knuckles were white from the pressure and she seemed reluctant to let go.

  Alexa reached out to squeeze Eleanor’s hand, noticing slender fingers and well-manicured nails, then stopped herself, realising how inappropriate the gesture would be. “I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been for you and your family.”

  “It was some time ago,” Eleanor said in a matter-of-fact tone. But there was no hiding the sadness in her soulful brown eyes.

  “Grief has no expiration date.” Alexa picked up the nitrile gloves, blew into them, and slid them on, taking a moment to compose her thoughts and still her heavy heart. After two years the burden of Alexa’s own grief was no less painful. She pulled back her shoulders. “May I?”

  Eleanor’s brows narrowed. “Yes,” she said with a slight nod.

  “The box is gorgeous,” Alexa said. “Blue enamel with Chinese temple and dragon ornamentations.” She lifted it with her gloved hands, surprised by the weight, and rotated it slowly. “And it’s heavy. Actually, it has five dragons. On the top and on the four sides. The clasp looks to be hand-fashioned copper, and look…” Alexa raised the dragon box so they could both see the base. “…there’s an identifying tag.”

  Eleanor lifted herself out of the chair and pushed herself forward, leaning across the desk. “I don’t suppose you can interpret these symbols?”

  She edged close enough for Alexa to breathe in the fragrant warmth of her skin. “Umm…no.” She let out a slow, controlled breath. “Let’s leave that to our experts. We have an excellent Collections and Research team.” She pointed again to the tag. “But I’ve seen this kind of Chinese symbol before. The reign mark is written in vertical columns and usually depicts the dynasty, country of origin, and signature of the craftsperson.”

  Eleanor sat down. “Okay.”

  “It’s exquisite.” Alexa touched the copper clasp on the front. It was easy to get distracted by the beauty of the box, its bright colours and artwork. But it was not her area of expertise. “Let’s get to the reason you’re here, shall we?”

  The hinge was stiff and made a hollow tinkle as Alexa opened it. Within the box’s red velvet lining lay a discoloured muslin bundle about seven inches long and four inches wide. She lifted out the bundle, noting its weight and laid it on the Polyfelt liner.

  A careful search inside the blue dragon box revealed that the lower section of the red velvet was loose. She picked up her tweezers and gently lifted the lining. Alexa cracked a smile. “My goodness. What have we here? There’s a secret compartment, Eleanor.”

  “What do you mean? I didn’t see anything.”

  Controlling the slight tremor of her fingers, Alexa cautiously lifted out a brownish coloured envelope as anticipation made her heart beat faster. “This must have been tucked in here for safe keeping.” She drew apart the sides of the envelope and peeked inside. “Looks like a very old photograph. From the reddish tint, it is possibly an albumen print.”

  Eleanor leaned across the table. “What can you see?”

  Alexa allowed the print to gently slide onto the liner. Although the image showed signs of abrasion with minor wear at the corners, it was in amazingly good condition, and she couldn’t hold back a smile. “It is rare to find a print of this age.” She picked up the eyepiece, whistling though her teeth. “I’ll have a closer look.”

  She peered through the magnifying eyepiece and gasped in recognition at the pocket-sized building with its scrolled gable above the arched doorway. “I know that building; it’s Chewton Town Hall. Looks like a family standing on the steps. The gentleman appears to be Chinese, and the European woman has her arms around two small children.”

  “Chewton?”

  “My mother has…I mean, I have a cottage in Chewton.”

  “That’s amazing.” Eleanor tapped her forehead with her hand and shook her head.

  Alexa could only blink. Yeah, absolutely. A weird coincidence.

  “Remind me, where is Chewton?”

  “It’s part of greater Castlemaine. Are you familiar with the area?”

  Eleanor nodded. “I think it’s close to Bendigo, but I haven’t been there since I was in school.”

  “Well, it hasn’t changed that much,” Alexa said. “I like to think the town has its own unique historical identity. It was a thriving city during the gold-rush years. Over twenty-five thousand diggers moved to Chewton, which was then known as Forest Creek—including many Chinese.” She hesitated. “Eleanor, this is so fragile, we’ll put it aside for now and look at the other treasures.” She was itching to know what lay within the muslin bundle.

  Alexa placed her gloved hand on the dragon box. “This and its contents are quite a load to carry around in your bag.”

  Eleanor folded her arms across her chest. “I’m a photographer. I’m used to lugging my gear around.”

  “Is that why you’re wearing a camera under your bomber jacket?”

  She flicked her fringe off her face and gave Alexa a fixed stare. “I know the rules. I wouldn’t have thought of using it back here without asking.” She shrugged out of her jacket and draped it on the back of the desk chair to reveal an orange V-necked T-shirt and a very sleek, sexy black camera.

  “Nice camera,” Alexa said. Nice body, too. She wished she’d had time to do a thorough background check on Eleanor Heysen and her aunt. She’d correct that mistake as soon as possible. Alexa was curious to learn more about the women, especially the good-looking one sitting right in front of her.

  Eleanor removed the camera from around her neck and lowered it slowly into her bag. “I couldn’t resist unwrapping the cloth bundle when I found it.” She sighed.

  “I don’t blame you.” Alexa wiggled her gloved fingers and extended her hand to pick up the bundle. Eleanor appeared uptight, as though she’d done something wrong. Alexa grinned at her to ease the tension and reassure her. “Hey, this is yours. We’ll take a look and then you can decide how you’d like to proceed. It’s up to you, really.” Alexa waited until Eleanor nodded her permission.

  “Go ahead. The glass plate negatives look really old and fragile. When I realised what they were, I decided I’d better not take them out of their padded envelopes.” A small frown still creased Eleanor’s brow.

  Alexa almost squealed with excitement. “Did you just say glass plate negatives?”

  Eleanor looked bemused. “Yes, I told you, I looked inside the box.”

  This was Alexa’s area of expertise, her passion. If Eleanor was correct about the negatives, it was a very rare find. Alexa sucked in a breath as her heart raced. “Okay,” she said, shakily. “You’ve done the right thing, keeping them protected. If these are glass plate negatives, they are extremely vulnerable to light and air…and can easily fracture.”

  After carefully untying the material, she exposed a slim wooden receptacle. She slowly turned it over in her hands. “I wonder what secrets this will tell us.”

  “I was itching to have a proper look,” Eleanor said. “But it was too risky.”

  Alexa picked up the box with two hands and gently placed it in front of Eleanor.

  “Turn it upright,” Eleanor said. “It has a hinged lid and wooden slots inside for the slides.”

  Alexa nodded and turned it in all directions as she inspected it closely. “No markings, no inventory numbers or identification notes, but, thankfully, it was very well protected.” She opened the lid, pulled out a support, a
nd put it on the liner. Using her bent nose tweezers, she carefully removed the envelope from inside.

  “Crikey.” Alexa pointed at red markings in the centre of the envelope, nearly leaping out of her chair. “That’s a Norlane and Bolton stamp.”

  Eleanor tilted her head to one side. “Who are they? Are they the photographers?”

  “Yes. We have many images of theirs. I’ve researched and worked on their collection for years. Oh, look, there’s a handwritten date. See these tiny numbers here?” Alexa pointed to the corner of the envelope. “It’s smudged, but I can make out 1872.”

  Eleanor’s eyes grew wide. “1872. That’s nearly a hundred and fifty years ago.”

  Alexa steadied her hands. With the tweezers, she peeled back the stained, fragile paper, revealing a glass plate, incredibly thin, with an almost pristine negative image. She picked it up with one hand, careful to make contact with the sides only, and held it above the bright white liner surface, squinting to see it better. “I can just make out what appears to be two children. One in long shorts, shirt, and cap and the other in a tunic dress and bonnet. They’re standing on some steps in front of a building. There’s a sign above them, but I can’t read it. Could be a schoolhouse.”

  Eleanor rubbed the back of her neck. “That’s interesting. Let’s look at the others.”

  Alexa lowered the glass negative to the liner and glanced up to find Eleanor staring at her expectantly. “These are special and awfully fragile. No doubt about it,” she said. “Let’s leave the rest to the experts. You can trust us, Eleanor. This…” She waved her hand over the small collection. “It could be historically unique.” Curiosity gnawed at Alexa’s insides; however, she repackaged the negative and replaced it into its housing. She had to follow protocol.

  “It was Aunt Helen’s wish to have them identified. It’s just that I was hoping…” Eleanor lowered her eyes and placed her hand on the dragon box. “If they are historical images from Australia, could the Library look into it further, investigate why they were in China? I hoped that looking at the negatives today would give us a hint.”