by C. Fonseca
“Why yes, I believe you showed it to me recently. Why? Who is he?” Gran looked thoroughly perplexed; she obviously didn’t know the man’s identity.
Alexa pulled down her reading glasses to the bridge of her nose. “Where do I start?” Gran’s eyes began to widen as Alexa carefully explained about Mei-Li’s birth certificate, the ship’s records, and the travel documents. As she shared the good news about their family, all the tension of the day drained from her body bit by bit.
“This man is Guãn Li-Shen.” She put her arm around her grandmother and gave her a gentle squeeze. “He is your great-grandfather.”
Gran picked up the photocopy of Guãn and quietly stared at it for a long time. She closed her eyes briefly, as though saying a silent prayer. “Mei-Li’s father. Oh, my goodness, this is remarkable. Isn’t he handsome?” She held the image to her chest. “Low and behold, the universe has conspired to lead us to our ancestors,” Gran said, in awe.
* * *
Later that evening, back at the loft, and spurred on by Gran’s enthusiasm, Alexa sat at the desk in front of her laptop. Since their meeting on Saturday, she’d had no time to read through the articles Phyllis had given her. She furrowed her brows in concentration as she finally pulled up the first one and began to read. As far as Mei-Li’s case went, Alexa was now more determined than ever to find the answers.
Alexa had been careful not to divulge too many unpleasant details to her grandmother about Edith Foster’s illness and death. The newspapers had reported that Edith had died in hospital from pneumonia, but there had been other complications. Alexa opened the Google search engine and typed in Edith’s symptoms as described in the court transcripts.
Sore teeth and gums. Mouth ulcers. Sore throat. Aching limbs. Brittle bones.
Alexa scanned through the first few pages of the eight hundred and fifty-six thousand search engine results before sitting back in frustration. This wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She needed to rethink her approach. There were so many possibilities. Autoimmune disease? Cancer? Poisoning couldn’t be discounted—Mei-Li had mentioned poisoning.
Marita’s name flashed in the corner of the laptop screen, and Alexa clicked on the text message:
Hi Alexa. It was great to meet your Eleanor! Heartfelt thanks for bringing so many friends to the Bridge on Saturday.
Alexa grinned and tapped a quick reply:
The show was excellent. Always such a thoughtful, rewarding performance. You made a new fan in Eleanor. Catch up soon. X
Alexa returned to the main screen and skimmed over the webpages for a few minutes before shaking her head and closing her laptop. This was a waste of time.
Standing, Alexa elongated her spine in a full stretch. She gazed out of the high, loft window at the night sky and its hazy blanket of stars. Tired, her body pleasantly achy, she wrapped her arms around herself and was suddenly overcome with the memory of Eleanor’s hands on her body and the feel of Eleanor’s lithe form stretched out over hers.
Marita had written your Eleanor. Did Alexa’s friends really see them as a couple now?
Alexa sank into the corner of the cushioned couch and folded her legs beneath her. Why had she said Sunday? Five days away. Gran was right; Alexa was deliberately keeping Eleanor at a distance, for now. By convincing herself that she was incapable of experiencing true love, Alexa had been repeating the same patterns. Meeting someone. Getting closer. Panicking. Calling it quits and justifying her retreat. If she didn’t change, she was going to end up alone for the rest of her life.
She had inherited Steven Bellamy’s genes, but she did not have to follow in her father’s footsteps. And she could do something about it. Maybe Gran was right. Maybe it was time for Alexa to stop being so damn afraid all the time.
Chapter 25
The game of sparrows
Alexa woke up and automatically reached for Eleanor. She wasn’t there. Damn, it was just a dream. A dream so real, so tangible, she could have sworn Eleanor was beside her. God, she could even smell her. She buried her head under the pillow and groaned piteously. Alexa ran her tongue around her lips; she could almost taste Eleanor. It was entirely Alexa’s decision they wouldn’t see each other until Sunday, and now she was being tortured by an unbearable mix of longing and frustration.
Rolling onto her back, she threw a hand over her eyes. When did the alarm go off, and how did it get so bright in her bedroom? The light filtering through the blinds wasn’t doing much for her foggy head. Coffee. She needed coffee. With a heavy sigh, she flung off the covers and crawled out of bed. Shit. Was it really only Thursday morning? Three and a half days until she laid eyes on Eleanor again. At least she had a couple of intense workdays to focus on. She reached for the water bottle on her bedside table and took a large gulp.
Alexa stared at the bedside clock, grimacing at the late hour. “I’m going to have skip the caffeine until I get to work,” she mumbled, rousing herself from her bed and heading straight to the shower. She could at least make an effort to get to work on time.
The ground-floor galleries were a buzz of activity and as lively as Flinders Street Station during peak hour when Alexa arrived. It was just over a month to Christmas, and after major refurbishments, the library would soon be opening its redeveloped spaces in a flurry of exhibitions and special events. As exhibition installers scurried to and fro through the restored heritage space, each concentrating on their specific tasks, Alexa caught up with Katherine Kent, who was observing the placement of the last new showcases.
“Right on time, Alexa. What do you think?” Katherine tapped her index finger on her rather prominent chin.
“The space is beginning to take shape, just how we planned. It’s going to be fabulous. Crowds will pour through here all summer with the Ashes Urn in the gallery next door. This exhibition, Recent Acquisitions and Highlights of the Lehmann Collection—it’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?—will get plenty of exposure.”
“Yes,” Katherine agreed with a chuckle. “It is perfectly timed, especially with the extra events organised for our grand re-opening. I’ve approved the mock-ups and will leave you and the curator to sort out the final design. Double check those thematic text panels. We had a problem in the Victoria Gallery with the printer. The text was too pale.” She narrowed her eyes. “I could hardly read a thing.”
The devil is in the detail. Alexa nodded, remembering one of her grandmother’s favourite sayings. “Everything’s set up in the workroom, so we can tweak the final layout.”
“Excellent.” Katherine checked her watch. “Let’s leave the installation team to get on with it, and we can check back later. Unless you have any concerns, Alexa?”
“No concerns at the moment. If you don’t need me, I’ll head back upstairs now.”
“Good. I’ll walk with you.” Katherine fell into step with Alexa, and they strode towards the staircase. “I’m having supper with the Heysens tonight. I expect Eleanor will be there.”
Alexa gulped. She had almost forgotten her boss was Eleanor’s mother’s best friend. “That’s nice. I expect she will,” she said in a restrained tone.
Katherine gave her a sideways glance and lightly tapped Alexa’s forearm. “I’m happy you and Eleanor are friends. It can be lonely coming home after such a long absence. Sarah worries that her daughter is having difficulty settling back in Melbourne—I don’t think Eleanor kept in touch with many university friends after she left for London.”
Had Eleanor really settled back, or was she just biding her time before traipsing off to some far away destination? The fact that she didn’t know Eleanor’s plans for the future sparked a bit of worry in Alexa.
“Are you still working together on finding the locations of Helen Heysen’s slides?”
“Nearly done,” Alexa replied.
Katherine stopped with one foot on the step above. She gave her head a small shake, and her tawn
y coloured hair, pinned to the side of her head with a large Art Deco hair comb, barely moved. “I know I’ve already expressed my amazement, Alexa, but the news about your ancestor’s connection to the Lehmann slide collection—well, I am gobsmacked.”
Alexa answered in a quiet voice, “Me, too.”
“Considering Helen Heysen’s contribution to the Lehmann Collection and your family connection, we could expand on the link. We should involve Eleanor. Her talent is a real asset,” Katherine said. “Talk to her. I have faith that the two of you could come up with something unique that would work hand in hand with the Lehmann exhibition. Despite our time constraints and the extra work involved, there is scope in our budget to develop this further.”
Alexa stared at Katherine. That was an inspired idea. A blossom of hope unfurled in her chest. Could Eleanor be persuaded to come on board and work with Alexa?
Katherine squeezed her forearm. “As I said, think about it. Just don’t leave it too long.”
Alexa could have hugged Katherine but restrained herself and just nodded. It would be a perfect excuse to contact Eleanor today.
At the top of the stairs, Sanjay Kumar ambled towards them, carrying a stack of flat document folders. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said, flashing a shy grin. “Alexa, you probably already know this, but Eleanor’s agreed to work with us in Image Capture sometime next week. We’re totally swamped and would really appreciate her help.”
“Oh, that’s great.” Alexa stared at Sanjay who bowed his head at Katherine, then kept moving in the opposite direction down the corridor. No, she didn’t know that about Eleanor. She also didn’t know why everyone felt the need to mention Eleanor’s name the moment they saw Alexa today.
Katherine raised an eyebrow but said nothing and kept on walking.
“I’m still trying to get my head around it.” Alexa caught up to Katherine. “I mean that I’m related to Guãn Li-Shen, our Chinese herbalist.” The fact that she hadn’t heard a whisper about Eleanor working at the library next week was another thing she had to get her head around.
“Remarkable,” agreed Katherine. “Well, keep me informed about the installation and any ideas you come up with about expanding it.”
They passed a workroom just as Jac appeared at the door, wheeling a small two-tiered cart.
“Good afternoon, Katherine. Alexa.”
“Afternoon, Jacqueline,” Katherine said. “Alexa and I have just returned from checking on the progress downstairs.”
“That’s good. Everything’s coming along well, isn’t it?” Jac tapped the top of the white tote box on her cart. “I’m transferring Eleanor’s glass plate negative slide boxes to Exhibition Prep to measure up for display. I have it on my to-do list to ring Eleanor about the photograph of her aunt that’s to be included in the exhibition catalogue.”
Good grief! Was Eleanor going to haunt her all day?
Jac tilted her head at Alexa questioningly. “Or would you rather do it?”
“I guess I could,” Alexa answered. “We’ll need to know the proper dimensions, format, and all that stuff.” Now she had another excuse to ring Eleanor today.
“Okay, you’ll handle Eleanor then.” Jac smirked. “I’d better be off.”
Alexa looked down at her feet, hoping she hadn’t flushed bright red.
Katherine paused at the office doorway and turned, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Eleanor seems to have made a number of friends at the library,” she said with a gleam in her eyes. “Isn’t it extraordinary how the stars have aligned to bring everything together? It’s destiny.” Katherine gave Alexa a sweet but knowing smile. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Alexa stood with her mouth half open, watching her boss stride briskly away. Why did the stars have to align and bring Eleanor into every conversation with everyone she met? Alexa took a deep calming breath. It was true. If the stars hadn’t aligned, the extraordinary discovery about her ancestors may never have come to light. She and Eleanor wouldn’t have met, and Alexa would never have caught a glimpse of opportunities previously unimagined. Alexa reached for her phone. For the last few days, during her period of introspection, Alexa had tried to convince herself that she could manage without Eleanor, but she was tired of pretending. She unlocked her phone and began to type out a text.
* * *
Eleanor guided Grace to a worn leather armchair beside an elderly gentleman who’d introduced himself as Roberto. He’d insisted he was an inmate there, at the Merri Community Home, and Eleanor had laughed at his good spirit.
“Oh, thank you, Eleanor.” Grace puffed a breath and sank into the armchair, resting her head back against the padded cover. “You finally got here without interference from my granddaughter.”
“Yes, I am very glad to be here at last,” Eleanor said. She was relieved that she and Alexa seemed to be back on good terms again.
“The players and the residents are happy for you to take their photos, although I suspect some needed a little cajoling. Wrinkles and vanity and all that.” Grace shrugged her shoulders.
“You’ve been a great help setting things up for me, Grace. I think they’d do anything for you.” Eleanor crouched down beside her and lightly held her hand. “Are you sure you’re okay? Can I get you a glass of water?” She glanced at the long table laid out with a beverage station and dishes filled with interesting goodies, cooked by the residents in the home’s central kitchen. “I don’t think the hot drinks are ready.”
“No, not yet. I’ll be fine in a jiffy. I just need to sit here and rest for five minutes.” She patted Eleanor’s hand.
Grace had remarked that, thankfully, the home was not administered by one of those unscrupulous mining companies and the manager and staff were respectful of the residents’ needs. Considering the horrors being revealed through the Royal Commission into Aged Care Quality and Safety, Eleanor was relieved places such as this existed.
“Roberto will look after me. Now, off you go to create some magic with your camera. Covertly, if necessary,” Grace insisted with a wink. “When the games are over, the gang will make a beeline for the afternoon tea table like a horde of hungry mice.”
“I’m not sure how much help Roberto will be. He’s taking a nap.”
He hadn’t moved in his rocking chair for some time but startled to attention at the sound of his name. “What? What did you say, dear?” he boomed, “I’m awake.”
“Off you go.” Grace gently tugged the camera strap that hung around Eleanor’s neck.
It wasn’t at all surprising that Grace needed a rest. Eleanor was amazed that, even though Grace was ninety-one, a lot older than many of the residents, she’d been rushing around organising the tournament like a headmistress mustering her students at assembly. With two younger volunteers, they supervised the twenty-four participants, meandering between the square Mahjong tables of four, keeping scores, ensuring everyone was adequately hydrated, and resolving minor disputes before they erupted into something more serious. Hopefully, Grace wasn’t totally worn out by all that rushing about.
The Merri Community Home’s Annual Report would feature the tournament and participants, and Eleanor was tasked with the photoshoot. Her heart warmed at being able to help out the residents, and this was a great opportunity for her to gain more experience photographing elderly people. She’d already been introduced to an array of colourful characters, and many had allowed her to get up close. Eleanor smiled as she checked the photographs she’d taken so far. She’d been able to capture the fine details and expressions of these amazing individuals who’d laughed, cried, and loved for a very long time.
A fashionably dressed woman—her makeup perfectly applied—entered the recreation room, brandishing a long white stick, and carefully manoeuvred past the players towards Eleanor. “They tell me you’re the shutterbug today. My name is Josie. Would you like to photograph me?” she invit
ed sweetly.
Eleanor’s eyes lit up. This petite, well-poised lady in her violet pantsuit would make a fantastic subject. “I’d love to. Would you like to sit down, or are you comfortable right here?”
“Here will do nicely,” she stated with enthusiasm. “I’m legally blind, so I can’t play anymore, but I want to be close to the action. Even though I’m a nonagenarian, there’s nothing wrong with my hearing. I love the music of the Mahjong tiles being shuffled. All the players put their hands in and make as much noise as possible. The clacking of the tiles is like the twittering of sparrows. Do you know how to play, Eleanor?”
“Not really, but I can see why it could become quite addictive,” Eleanor said. “Grace has explained the basics. After the twittering, they rebuild the walls and then they throw the dice to determine who gets to be East Wind and start the round.”
“Yes.” Josie turned to Eleanor with a bright smile. “It is a game of chance and strategy in equal measure, just like life.”
“That’s food for thought,” Eleanor said. When it came to Alexa, she figured a bit more strategy was required—and less reliance on chance. She shook her head. Somehow, her thoughts always returned to Alexa.
“I’m ready, Eleanor. Are you going to take my photograph?”
Eleanor lifted her camera to quickly capture the alertness and determination in Josie’s upright posture and strong jawline. How did Josie navigate life through a haze, through a foggy lens? Eleanor couldn’t imagine losing her eyesight, and yet this woman seemed perfectly aware of everything around her, as though her other senses were more highly tuned to compensate. Eleanor knew she had gained more from this short time with Josie than a few photographs. Josie’s resilience was inspiring.