by C. Fonseca
“Good morning. I’m fine, thank you.” Alexa knew she must sound cool, almost curt.
She heard Eleanor’s sharp intake of breath, as though she was bracing herself for another reprimand from Alexa. She wasn’t wrong.
“Can I help you with something?” Eleanor asked in a quavery voice. “Oh, if it’s about the folder I left in your office, I can come by the library and pick it up. It’s just that my father has a series of check-ups and tests this week, and I promised to drive him to his appointments. Umm, would Thursday suit you?”
“That’s fine. You can collect it anytime you like. I’ll leave it at the librarian service desk in the Cowan Gallery.” Alexa bit her lip. She could have said that with a little less sting.
There was an uncomfortable silence before Eleanor spoke. “Okay. I’ll do that. Thank you. I was hoping that we could—”
“I’m sorry, I have a really busy—”
“Okay,” Eleanor said abruptly, cutting Alexa off mid-sentence.
Another uncomfortable silence hung in the air, while Alexa figured out how to approach the real reason for phoning Eleanor.
Eventually, it was Eleanor who asked, “Was there another reason for your call?”
“Gran told me that you’re going with her to the Mahjong game tomorrow,” Alexa blurted out.
“That’s right. She suggested I photograph her with some of her friends while they play, and I thought it was a great idea. I’m looking forward to it.”
Alexa stared at the phone screen. “Is that so?” After what had happened, how could Eleanor think it was okay? “I don’t have a say in who my grandmother chooses to socialise with, but I wish you wouldn’t.”
“You wish I wouldn’t what? Grace asked me, Alexa. She rang this morning to confirm our arrangements, and I don’t want to disappoint her. You know how sorry I am about what happened.”
Alexa sensed the irritation in Eleanor’s tone, and she tried resolutely to keep her own temper in check. “That may well be true. I just don’t want you to upset my grandmother any more. It’s not appropriate for you to spend time with her at the moment.”
When Eleanor didn’t respond, Alexa imagined her pushing her fingers through her honey-coloured hair, pulling on the strands, which she had a habit of doing. Just stop, she admonished herself. Eleanor had let her down. She couldn’t think about her in that way right now.
“I’ll think of a way of getting out of the photo session,” Eleanor said flatly. “Grace will understand that I have to help Dad. Alexa, I don’t want to upset you any further.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “Can I just ask you one question before I go?”
Alexa couldn’t believe Eleanor had surrendered so fast, but some of the tension drained out of her body. “Go ahead.”
“Was the information I uncovered about William at all helpful to you and Grace?”
Alexa sighed. “Maybe, Eleanor. It’s complicated.” The lid of Pandora’s Box had definitely been wrenched off, but Alexa hadn’t yet got her head around her grandmother’s revelations. She certainly wasn’t ready to share any of it with Eleanor.
“I see. Goodbye, Alexa.”
The phone screen went blank. Dammit, she’d ended the phone call without giving Alexa the opportunity to have the last word. Was it that, or did Alexa want to keep hearing her voice? The dulcet tones and her faintly British accent. Dammit.
* * *
Alexa’s hand shook as she traced a line of the delicate ink-brush painting. “These are exquisite. If only I could read the Chinese calligraphy,” she said, closing Mei-Li’s small sketchbook with a deep sigh. She placed the fragile rice paper book on the kitchen table and looked up to see her grandmother smiling sweetly.
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t read the poems either, so I asked Patrick to find someone who could translate the Cantonese characters. His cousin Lily typed this up for me.” Gran waved a single sheet of paper in front of Alexa.
Alexa took the piece of paper from her hand and began to read out loud:
The earth heavy with spring rain.
Softening all things with little sound.
Furrows in the rich dark soil.
The sun’s warmth is welcome, bringing new life.
A thousand green shoots.
Butterflies and the apple tree on the hill with soft pink blossom.
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and cleared her throat. “This is lovely, Granny. Mei-Li was an artist and a poet.” She glanced to the left, to where her mother’s watercolour adorned the wall. It depicted the vegetable garden in Chewton. How sad that her mum never learnt about Mei-Li, the herbalist, gardener, poet, and artist.
“She truly was remarkable,” Gran agreed. “You can read the other poems at home, Alexa. I have copies for you. Don’t be sad. I believe Mei-Li led a meaningful, happy life working with the market gardeners in Castlemaine.”
Alexa squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “She couldn’t have written these heartfelt words without having found peace. Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“I always hoped to tell you about Mei-Li, darling. The paintings and poems prove our ancestor was a pure soul. It’s impossible to believe she had any part in the American woman’s death. She was a healer.” Gran had a determined glint in her eye.
“I’ll find out what really happened. I promise.” Alexa didn’t know exactly how she would accomplish that. For her grandmother’s sake, though, she had to get to the bottom of the story.
Gran tilted her head to one side. “If anyone can discover the truth, it will be you, my expert historian. But, my dear, I suspect you’ll need some help. Which brings me to the other reason I asked you to visit me this evening.”
Alexa could only say, “Ah,” and hang her head. She had a fairly good idea what was coming next.
“Eleanor phoned me earlier. She had to cancel our arrangements for tomorrow, apparently because she must drive her father to a doctor’s appointment. I don’t suppose you know anything about this?” Gran asked in the stern voice she rarely used with Alexa.
“My bad, Granny. I suggested Eleanor cancel. She did the wrong thing, and I’m not going to sit back and let her get away with it.” Alexa tried to back herself out of the hole she’d dug. “She didn’t want to cancel your date, but she finally accepted my point of view.” Albeit, reluctantly.
“That may be so; however, it was wrong to punish Eleanor by having her tell me a fib.”
“It was the wrong thing to do. I realise that now.” Alexa removed her reading glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I was beginning to trust her. Eleanor seemed such an honest and principled person, in her professional and private life. That’s why it came as such a shock when she went behind our backs, treating our ancestors’ lives like some kind of special investigation.”
“Eleanor got a wee bit carried away, I’ll give you that,” her grandmother said. “But she only intended to help us. You know, dear, Eleanor is an intuitive woman. She sensed that I was holding something deep inside me, something painful that twisted and turned but couldn’t escape, and she helped me free it. The pain hasn’t entirely gone, but it’s more bearable now.”
“Granny, I’m so sorry.” Alexa swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Well I’m sorry too. When you rang this morning, I knew you were upset with Eleanor. I should have been more thoughtful and not gone on about the yum cha lunch date. Especially since you couldn’t join us.”
Alexa met her grandmother’s contrite gaze with her own. “Oh dear, I acted like a spoilt grandchild, didn’t I?”
“We’re a pair of silly duffers. I think we are both a tiny bit smitten with the photographer, aren’t we?” Gran chuckled. “You more than me, perhaps?”
“Is it that obvious? I guess it is,” Alexa said, surprised by her own admission.
“Your blush confirms it, darling.”
>
Alexa covered her face with her hands. She had to face facts—her attraction to Eleanor had not diminished despite what had happened. She missed the sparks that flared between them when they touched and the easy connection when they talked. Alexa had to admit the information about William made a huge difference. Her eyes welled up with tears at the thought of Gran going to her grave bearing the secret. Maybe she needed to swallow her pride and admit it to Eleanor. Maybe Alexa owed Eleanor an apology.
Chapter 18
The wriggling snake
Eleanor sat at an outdoor table of the café adjacent to the library, staring into space, lost in the incredulousness of her predicament. Just a few weeks ago, this had been the very place she’d joined Alexa and Grace for lunch. In less than a month, they’d both become so important to Eleanor, each in their own ways. She tugged at her hair. Eleanor was trying not to lose all hope, but because of her giant lapse of judgement, she figured her chances for a deeper friendship with Alexa had been dashed.
Surely Alexa wouldn’t be passing by the café at eleven o’clock in the morning, would she? The chance of Eleanor running into her on the way from the café to the pick-up point was slim, wasn’t it? The corner table, shaded by a large striped umbrella, gave her a perfect vantage point to people watch, on the off chance that Alexa did walk by. And if she did, would she come over or would she ignore Eleanor?
Running her finger around the half-empty cup of lukewarm coffee, she watched the pigeons precariously stepping along the rooftop ledges like tightrope walkers. After the terse conversation with Alexa on Monday and then having to spin a story to Grace and make apologies for abandoning their arrangements on Tuesday, Eleanor felt as if she was on a tightrope doing her own balancing act.
Alexa’s voice on the phone had been aloof. She sounded pissed off. Eleanor couldn’t blame her. She reminded herself it was nothing compared to the look of disdain Alexa had cast her way when she’d left the bar last Friday night.
Eleanor should stop mooning around outside the library, get a grip on reality, pick up the envelope, and go home. She shoved the photographic journal she’d been pretending to read into her backpack and eased the pack onto her shoulders.
Eleanor slipped through the security check and into the Redmond Barry Reading Room. She gave a soulful sigh, recalling how she’d hurried through here for her appointment with Katherine Kent last month and ended up meeting Alexa instead. Eleanor took a moment to absorb the unique atmosphere of the grand high-ceilinged chamber. It reverberated with whispered echoes that seemed to chase each other between the wooden chairs, desks, and the rows of bookshelves.
At the far end of the reading room, she passed through a wide doorway that was flanked by two staircases leading up to the mezzanine floor. Eleanor took a left turn, arriving at the Ask-a-Librarian service point and joined the short queue in front of the information desk. She glanced around at the large portrait paintings that adorned the walls of the Cowan Gallery, thankful the place was not a hive of activity this morning so she wouldn’t have long to wait before collecting her envelope.
She looked down, tapping her feet on the parquet flooring. Her leather ankle boots were a new purchase, incredibly comfortable and well matched with her straight-leg jeans, cobalt turtleneck, and narrow scarlet scarf. She’d even caught the approving nod from her mother when they’d briefly spoken outside her father’s study earlier today. That made a pleasant change.
“Excuse me. How can I help you?”
Eleanor looked up with a start, realising she’d been lost in thought. She stared at the woman behind the librarian’s desk and glanced at her name tag. “I’m so sorry, Mary. I was daydreaming.”
“How can I help you?” Mary repeated with a smile.
Eleanor explained about the envelope, all the while furtively glancing around just in case Alexa should stroll by. Despite knowing Alexa wouldn’t be happy to see her, Eleanor hoped she would at least get the chance to apologise one more time.
“Hmm.” Mary scanned her computer screen. “One moment. I have it here somewhere.” She bent down and rummaged through some cupboards.
Alexa had been definite about leaving it at this particular service point. No doubt the librarian would find it soon. Eleanor was like a sitting duck in the middle of the gallery with at least five access points. It was doing her head in. Alexa never indicated she would meet her here, and yet Eleanor couldn’t help but look for her, everywhere.
“Here it is,” Mary said. “You’ll just have to sign for it.”
Eleanor spun around to Mary. “Thank you.” She signed the paperwork, handed back the pen, and accepted the package.
“I’ll inform Ms. Bellamy that you’ve retrieved the package. Enjoy your day, Ms Heysen.”
Having tucked the envelope safely into her backpack, Eleanor headed for one of the Library exits. Job done. That’s all I came here for. She tried her best to ignore the tiny pang of disappointment in her chest.
In the reading room, she stopped at the base of one of the four identical staircases to admire the intricate detailed balustrade and contemplated how best she could photograph its aesthetic beauty and symmetry. A flicker of movement at the top of the stairs caught her eye and she spotted what looked to be a small foot. Eleanor’s eyes widened. Yes, it was a foot, and it was moving.
“Robbie, Robbie.” A child’s voice caught Eleanor’s attention. Tucked in the crook of the left arm of a tall man, a little girl with blonde curls pointed upwards.
The man was looking at his phone and pushing an empty stroller at the same time. To Eleanor’s amazement, he seemed unconcerned with the wriggling child he held.
Eleanor’s gaze snapped back to the staircase. That must be Robbie’s foot. Now she could see two small hands gripped around the balustrade. The kid must be stuck. She darted to the staircase, weaving stealthily through groups of people and was already climbing the second flight when she heard a man’s slightly panicked voice call from below.
“Robbie, stay put. Daddy’s right here.”
As she approached the boy, Eleanor’s heart sank at the sound of his faint whimpering. Not wanting to scare the child, she dropped into a seated position just below him and slid sideways along to the railing where his foot was clearly jammed.
“Hi Robbie. My name is Eleanor.”
He sniffed and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not supposed to be up here,” he whispered. “I’m stuck.”
“How did you manage that?” Without waiting for his answer, Eleanor stood up slowly, placed her hand on the rail, and leaned over the side. She quickly surveyed the situation. Robbie looked light enough that she could lift him with one arm and free his foot with her other hand. “Ah yes. Your leg is definitely jammed.”
“That’s what I said.” He squirmed, wedging his leg further between the scrolled bars.
In a calm, steady voice, Eleanor said, “Robbie, I need you to keep still for a moment. Do you think you can do that?”
“Of course.”
“That’s great. Would you mind if I slipped my arm around you? Then I can scoop you up, and together we can free your leg.”
“Sure,” Robbie said in a shaky voice. “Are you Captain Marvel?”
“Why?” Eleanor smiled.
“You’ve got her suit on and you look pretty strong.”
Eleanor chuckled and lifted Robbie upwards, supporting his weight with one arm. She clasped his foot and gently wriggled it free from the coiled ironwork. When he reached up and grabbed her jumper, Eleanor perched him onto her hip. He was heavier than he looked. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No. It was cool.” Robbie patted her face. His hands were hot and clammy. “It was like being in a superhero movie and you came to the rescue. You’re pretty awesome.” Robbie looked around. “Can you take me to my dad? He must be worried ’bout me.” He gave a little sigh.
“I
can do that,” she said. “If I hold your hand, would you like to walk down the stairs with me, or do you want me to carry you?”
“Walk.” Robbie gave her a toothy grin.
Eleanor lowered him to the step and held out her hand.
He reached up and clasped her fingers tightly, sending a warm, fuzzy feeling through her. They slowly descended the stairs, where the man with the stroller and the little girl waited.
“Robbie. Thank goodness you’re okay,” the man said.
Eleanor let go of Robbie’s hand, and he raced into his father’s arms. “Hey, Dad, look it’s that superhero,” he said, looking over his shoulder with a smile.
Robbie’s dad turned to Eleanor. “Sorry I couldn’t help you.” He gestured towards the little girl in the stroller. “I couldn’t leave Lucy,” he said sheepishly. “Anyway, I’m so glad you got to him so quickly. Thanks.”
Eleanor shrugged. “Glad I turned up just in time to help Robbie.”
Lucy grabbed her brother’s shirt sleeve. “Robbie, you’re in trouble.” She giggled.
“I’m going to tell Mum I’ve been with Captain Marvel,” Robbie chimed in a raised voice.
His father just groaned and turned to Eleanor, shaking his head. “Come on, you two.”
Eleanor waved goodbye as the family hastened towards the exit. She imagined that the parents of little children occasionally required superhero powers. She smiled fondly. Those two seemed quite a handful.
“And here she emerges in the face of danger. With powers including strength, resilience, and selflessness.”
Eleanor looked up so fast, her heart pounding. “Alexa, what are you doing here?”
“You obviously made an impression,” Alexa’s voice was low. “Do you mind if we sit here for a moment?” She indicated to the nearest bench seat with a theatrical flourish of her arm.
Eleanor moved to the bench and sat with her hands tucked under her thighs. Her face flushed. “Where did you come from?” she asked as Alexa sat down beside her.