Tracing Invisible Threads

by C. Fonseca

  “Stacking shelves in a salt mine? That would make a curious photograph.” Eleanor matched Alexa’s low tone. She gazed at her appreciatively. “You in bubblegum-coloured trousers and retro-print shirt would be a fun subject against a stark white background.”

  “Prairie-print shirt.” Alexa spun around in a circle before sitting down.

  “Yeah, those. You look just like those sweet effervescent lolly bombs I bought after school that would explode deliciously in my mouth.” Eleanor fanned herself with her hand. Had they turned the thermostat up a few notches, or was her flushed skin Alexa’s fault? “Is the air-con working in here?” she asked sheepishly.

  “Of course, the air-conditioning is on. I heard it’s another scorcher outside but not as bad as last week. Thank goodness.”

  “How will Grace cope with the heat today? I would have called in to check on her before coming here, but I hitched a ride into the city with Mum.”

  “I left her with strict instructions to stay indoors.” Alexa shrugged matter-of-factly and rolled her chair closer to Eleanor at the wide desk. “Before I left, Mrs Grasso from next door arrived bearing a large bowl of Italian vegetable and bread salad along with an esky of homemade granita and iced tea. I was almost tempted to stay home from work and have lunch with them.” Alexa chuckled softly.

  “She’ll have some company, then. That’s great,” Eleanor said, flashing a smile. “Do you mind having to work through your lunch break? Should I have grabbed something for you to eat?”

  “Thanks, but I had a sandwich before heading down here. Strictly no eating in these spaces, anyway.”

  “Of course. Only bottled water is permitted in this room.” Eleanor cast her eyes to the ceiling. She should have remembered that.

  Alexa opened her laptop and smiled at Eleanor over the rim of her glasses. “Shall we get to it, then? I’ll open the email.”

  Eleanor nodded. “This is a lot different from the last time I was in the library, and you dragged me into that tiny room under the Dome. I recall there was just a couple of chairs and a table. And you got a little frisky.”

  “That won’t be happening today, not in here—surrounded by all these other researchers and security cameras everywhere.”

  Eleanor met Alexa’s resolute gaze with a pout. “You’d better behave then.” She tapped her fingers on the desk, remembering how she’d sulked all the way home after Alexa had run off to a workshop just as things were getting steamy. “I gather you’ve had a response from the Public Records Office?”

  “Yes, only just. I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”

  Alexa clicked the wireless mouse a couple of times, scrolling through her emails. “Since the state library doesn’t hold records of historic cases that were dismissed unless they are of particular interest involving precedent, the PROV is our only option. Fingers crossed.”

  “Ah-ha. If a case ruling sets a new precedent, they would keep a record.”

  Alexa inclined her head towards Eleanor. “Yeah, you explained that to me on Saturday. And a whole lot of other legal stuff.”

  “Yes, you were a very attentive student.” Eleanor grinned and gestured towards the computer screen. “Now, keep reading.”

  “Here we go.” Alexa squinted. “They’ve got something.”

  “What?” Eleanor peered closely at the small screen in front of them.

  “We’re in luck,” Alexa said. “They found records regarding the Foster versus Brown case because it created so much controversy at the time. That’s probably because it involved a prominent American businessman and a female Chinese herbalist.”

  Eleanor leaned forward and pointed excitedly to the next paragraph. “Fantastic. Look at this. They’ve located an old address for Perceval Foster in Waterbury, Connecticut, in the US.”

  “Waterbury… I’ve heard of it.” Alexa drummed her fingers distractedly on her knee.

  Eleanor kept reading the email, “Foster and his daughter returned to Waterbury in 1926. The daughter’s name was Betsy and she was three years old at the time.” She stopped and read the last sentence to herself. Her shoulders drooped in disappointment. Eleanor slowly raised her chin and turned to Alexa. “That’s it, Alexa. Unfortunately, they say that’s all they’ve got.”

  “But it’s a start.” Alexa’s tone was firm and encouraging. She typed Waterbury into the search engine. “It’s seventy-seven miles from New York City,” she read from the Wikipedia page. “It was known as Brass City and was famous for manufacturing brassware, clocks, and watches.”

  Eleanor scanned down the web page, searching for any relevant information. She refused to give up. “‘The Waterbury Clock Company produced the Mickey Mouse watch, clocks, and watches for the military with glow-in-the-dark dials.’ This is interesting, but I don’t know how it helps us.”

  “Me either. Though I do remember those Mickey Mouse watches. I’ve seen something similar at the Mill Market.”

  “It says here that Walt Disney’s Mickey Mouse watches kept the Waterbury Clock Company afloat during the Great Depression,” Eleanor read. “It later became Timex watches.”

  Alexa turned to Eleanor resignedly. “So, we’ve only learnt two things. The Fosters came from Waterbury, a city famous for making brassware and glow-in-the-dark watches, and their daughter’s name was Betsy. I think our next step is to find out more about Betsy Foster, right?”

  Eleanor racked her brain, trying to think of some way to dig up more information. “Ahh, I’ve got it. We can use my account with Ancestry.com to search for Betsy,” she said. “Can I borrow your laptop? I have an idea.”

  “Go for it.” Alexa slid the computer and mouse over to Eleanor.

  Eleanor typed in her username and password and pressed Enter. “Okay. Betsy Foster, Waterbury, Connecticut. Six hits.” She scratched her forehead. “She’d be nearly a hundred if she was still alive, so we can disregard most of these women on the list.”

  Alexa waved her finger at the screen. “How about this 1940 census? Here’s a Betsy aged eighteen years. Our Betsy would have been around that age in 1940. This Betsy lived at 56 Ridgeway Avenue, Waterbury. Hey, look at this; she lived with her father Perceval. Bingo.” She clapped Eleanor on the back, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Betsy lived with her father, Perceval Foster, her stepmother, and three siblings.”

  “Brilliant. Let’s see if Ancestry has more about her.” Eleanor typed in the name, birth year, and residence from the census and again hit Enter. Almost immediately, a match appeared on the screen, and Eleanor gave an involuntary squeal. “Here’s the family tree. Betsy Jane Foster, deceased 2002, married to Frank Joseph Sabatini, and they had two daughters and a son.”

  “Her children would be in their sixties.” Alexa stared at Eleanor with bright eyes. “God, I wonder if we could get in touch with them. Someone might be willing to talk with me.”

  “Let’s go with the youngest daughter, Reyna. She is listed as unmarried.” If Reyna subscribed to Ancestry, they could write her a carefully worded message and hope she would reply. She crossed her fingers, hoping Reyna used Ancestry.

  Alexa grabbed Eleanor’s wrist, making her jump. “How did it get so late? Damn, I’ve got a meeting, and Image Capture are expecting you now. What are you doing this afternoon?”

  “Is it that time already?” Eleanor asked, glancing at her watch in surprise. They had both lost track of the time. “I’m rushing to get things done for the opening of our exhibition. Everything has to be ready for the framers by early next week.” Eleanor’s phone pinged, and she chose to ignore it.

  “You’re flat out, but aren’t you at least curious to see the message?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Knowing you, I find that hard to believe.” A whisper of a smile danced across Alexa’s lips.

  Eleanor’s eyes lingered on Alexa’s mouth before she blinked and m
et her gaze. “Okay.” She lifted the phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. She frowned. “That’s unexpected. It’s an email from the director of the Merri Community Home.”

  “Now I’m burning with curiosity.” Alexa tapped Eleanor’s hand. “Go ahead and read it.”

  Eleanor clicked the email app and scanned the screen, eyes widening as she read. “I’ll be damned.”

  “Is it bad news?”

  “On the contrary.” Eleanor laughed out loud at Alexa’s puzzled expression. “Listen to this. The Department of Healthcare and Ageing are very keen to include my images as part of a national education programme for their workers. They’d like me to expand the photo stories I did for the Merri Community and include new images of both elders living independently, and residents of other aged care facilities.”

  “Darling, that’s fantastic.” Alexa leaned out of her seat and folded Eleanor in her arms. “I know how important this is for you.”

  “It would be a substantial commission of work.” Eleanor buried her face in the warmth of Alexa’s neck. Her focus on celebrating the lives of older Australians had been validated. At the Mahjong tournament, she’d learnt if you didn’t take a chance you could be stuck with a bad hand and indecision could lose you the game. Staying in Melbourne and expanding the focus of her work was a risk but one that was paying off. She snuggled in closer to Alexa. Definitely.

  “I’m looking forward to sharing a celebratory drink with you tonight,” Alexa whispered.

  “Perfect, me too.” Suddenly remembering where they were, and the fact they were both running late, Eleanor extracted herself from Alexa’s embrace.

  Alexa gently pushed Eleanor’s hair off her forehead. “Meet me after closing? I have my car.” She closed her laptop and tucked it into her bag.

  “Shouldn’t someone be home with Grace tonight?”

  “Patrick and his daughter Amy are taking over a home-cooked meal. Amy is Gran’s lawyer. They have legal stuff to discuss,” Alexa said.

  “Do you have to be there too?”

  Alexa shook her head. “No. Matter of fact, Granny suggested I invite you on a proper date.” She grinned broadly. “Eleanor? Would you like to have an early dinner with me?”

  “I’d love to,” Eleanor said eagerly. “We have two things to celebrate. We’re making progress with the investigation and I may have some work.” Actually, she had another thing to celebrate—Alexa just asked her on a proper date, even if her grandmother had suggested it—but Eleanor didn’t say anything.

  “We really do.” Alexa stood up and planted a sweet kiss on the top of Eleanor’s head. “Meet you near the Visitor’s Centre just after five?”

  Eleanor felt the blood rush to her face as she watched Alexa walk away, provokingly swinging her hips ever so slightly in her bubblegum trousers.

  * * *

  “Why have I never been to this place before?” Eleanor pressed her head back against the high-back chair, gazing around the restaurant’s terrace while Alexa kept her gaze solely focussed on Eleanor.

  “I mentioned the Abbotsford Convent to you ages ago, when we first met. You never took me up on my offer back then.” Although Alexa didn’t think the way she felt about Eleanor back then could possibly compare to the fullness of her heart right now.

  “You did. I’m here now, and we’ll have to come back during the day when the artists’ studios are open, and we can properly explore all this medieval-styled architecture.” Eleanor turned her camera over in her hands. She hadn’t put it down since they’d arrived fifteen minutes ago, capturing a series of garden vistas as they walked to Lentil as Anything to have dinner. Being around Eleanor’s simmering energy was addictive. She had a wide-eyed, insatiable thirst for anything new, and Alexa’s pulse quickened in anticipation of taking Eleanor to all of her favourite places.

  “Growing up, the convent was my playground. My friends and I spent hours scouting the six-point-eight hectares of historic buildings and gardens. It was awesome for a city kid. Magical.” She smiled fondly. Despite being an only child with one parent who had to work a lot, she had many happy memories of those early days.

  “Trust you to know the exact size of the property.” Eleanor’s mouth twitched with amusement before she took a healthy slurp of the restaurant’s popular thirst quencher. “This mango lassi is so good.” Eleanor licked her lower lip with a lazy swipe.

  Alexa pressed an index finger to her own trembling lips. She’s totally kissable.

  “Did you scrape your knees and scratch your elbows climbing these giant trees?”

  “Of course. Even though I wasn’t exactly a tomboy, I was long and leggy, and my preferred outfit of overalls and Doc Martens gave me the freedom to get up to all kinds of mischief.”

  “What were you like at school?” Eleanor grinned.

  Alexa put her chin in her hand and her elbow on the table. “High spirited, a dreamer, probably distracted—and a handful for the teachers. My favourite subjects were—”

  “Let me guess.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Eleanor smiled, tapping her brow. “That’s easy. History and English?”

  “Would you believe, biology? I had a crazy crush on my teacher from the moment she stepped into our classroom. She made even dissecting frogs bearable.” Alexa shuddered. “Literature, definitely. It was my way of connecting with faraway places and temporarily transporting myself to imaginary worlds.”

  Eleanor tilted her head to one side. “Books were my escape, too. Of course, photography as well,” she added. “Where did you go to school?”

  “Not far from here. I attended a Steiner School that’s actually now re-located right here in the old convent building.”

  “This is a great location.” Eleanor glanced around in amazement. “Pity it wasn’t here back when you were at school.”

  Alexa prodded Eleanor’s shoulder and huffed. “Back when I was in school? I’m not a whole lot older than you, you know.” She cleared a space at their end of the communal table as the waitress placed down a generous platter of vegetarian sides and a mound of coconut rice.

  “Yum. Thanks for bringing me. This is such a heavenly setting.” Eleanor gave Alexa a cheeky grin.

  Alexa handed over a ceramic bowl, cutlery, and napkin. “Help yourself.” She sat back and watched, taking pleasure in the enthusiasm with which Eleanor attacked her meal.

  The evening light diffused in pink-orange bathed Eleanor’s face in the glow of the setting sun. Lovely. Alexa sipped her spiced tea and sighed. It was such a romantic setting and she was with the woman of her dreams. But was it just a dream? Was it all too perfect? Alexa had never done anything like this before.

  Eleanor placed her fork down with a clatter. Her eyes narrowed. “Why aren’t you eating?”

  Alexa pushed the vegetables around in her bowl as she tried to find the right words. Finally, she squeezed out a breath and met Eleanor’s questioning gaze. “I’m so happy to have found you. You are the first woman I’ve truly allowed into my world, my real world. So, this thing…” She waved a hand between them. “Is wonderful but terrifying at the same time.”

  Eleanor frowned. “Why terrifying?”

  “You’re a traveller, Eleanor, an international photographer, and even though you said you’d like to find your own place soon and live on this side of town, it’s just hard to believe that you’ll stay long-term in Melbourne.” Alexa said it all rather fast, hoping not to sound needy. She couldn’t help herself. “Are you going to stick around long enough to give us a go?”

  “Yes, I am.” Eleanor reached for Alexa’s hand, and squeezed her fingers tightly. “This is home. Home is where the people you love are. If you’re asking me if I want an us, I do. I want all of this, especially you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. One hundred and ten per cent.”

  Alex
a laughed out loud at Eleanor’s sheer confidence. A warmth stirred deep inside her. With just those few words, Eleanor had allayed her fears, and suddenly her appetite returned. She picked up her fork with renewed enthusiasm. “This food does smell amazing.”

  * * *

  Alexa waited until Eleanor fastened her seatbelt before pulling out from the curb and turning right. “Next stop, the Heysen home, Hawthorn.” She smiled wistfully.

  “If you’re anxious to see Grace, why don’t you drop me at a tram stop?”

  Alexa glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She couldn’t help but worry about her grandmother, but it was only seven forty-five. Gran hated her to fuss. “Patrick messaged to reassure me that Gran is in good spirits. His wife is on night duty, so he’s in no rush to get home.” She pointed to her phone that she’d placed in the car console. “Sit back, relax, and listen to some music. It’s connected to Bluetooth. You know how to push the right buttons.”

  “I do.” Making herself comfortable, Eleanor patted the dashboard. “Your car has a retro looking music player, but I recall it has awesome sound.” Eleanor hit play, and music streamed from the stereo speakers in the rear of the coupé.

  “Yep, looks can deceive. Fits the classic vehicle but has all the mod cons.” Alexa slowed the car, turning into Studley Park Road.

  “Hey, it’s the Orbweavers.” Eleanor swivelled around in her seat to face Alexa. “We must be in sync. I’ve been listening to this at home, too.”

  Alexa smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying their album.”

  “Very much. It pulls my emotions in all directions.”

  Halfway through Marita’s poignant vocals on “Radium Girls”, Alexa tapped Eleanor’s forearm. “This one about radium poisoning is particularly intense.” The haunting music and the sad lyrics gave her goosebumps.