Fake ID

by Hazel Edwards

  I said quickly. ‘So it’s against the law. But sometimes people break rules. So someone would keep quiet about that. Or the person they thought they were married to might.’ I was thinking aloud. Pa or Gran? ‘What if there was no will?’

  Bruce fingered his tie and then brought out a mini-recorder so sleek it looked like the latest device. ‘If someone dies intestate?’

  ‘Like dying in Sydney or another state of Australia?’ Luke asked quickly.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. Gran didn’t have millions. But maybe she had more than one name?

  ‘No, intestate means they didn’t leave a will,’ corrected Bruce. ‘There’s no ‘r’ in the word, it’s intestate, not inter-state.’ You could see he liked being the Expert. ‘Tomorrow the valuers will come in. They make a list, called an inventory. They have to list everything of value that’s in the house. They look for anything worth money — documents and valuable items. Meanwhile, I’ll have a quick look around.’

  Talking into a silver hi-tech mini-mike, Bruce walked though the house, listing and describing objects, like the chairs and ornaments.

  ‘D’reckon he’s making sure we don’t pinch stuff overnight?’ whispered Luke.

  I shrugged. ‘Probably just doing his job. Must get sick of saying ”chair”.’

  Using the percolator, I made real coffee and put out the Tim Tams Gran kept especially for me. Gran was into feeding people and would think I was rude not to offer Bruce something. Just as Bruce returned to the front room, Bark started barking loudly outside.

  ‘Apart from money, can you inherit other things?’ I poured Bruce’s coffee and offered the biscuits. I gave him Gran’s ‘Veteran Belly Dancer’ mug that I had given her last birthday. The woman had a red veil draped over most of her with the word Veteran underneath.

  He looked at the mug. ‘Is this for me? Makes a change from cartoons on coffee mugs,’ he said, and then sipped, with a little smile.

  I guess he meets lots of strange families. Bruce might be OK.

  Luke looked sideways at me. ‘Inherit? Like what? Dogs? Names?’

  ‘Maybe diseases…or genes… you know.’ I suggested. ‘Good or bad genes?’ Mum used to say I was a bit like Gran the way I liked secrets.

  ‘Good and bad genes are a matter of opinion. Well, sometimes people do look like their relatives. Occasionally we get a likely match. You know, hair colour or shape of noses or something. Will you be taking that dog with you, Zoe?’

  Bark was getting louder. I did have red hair, but Pa was sandy too. And my nose was getting to be as big as Gran’s. Seriously. That was a worry. I’d never be a millionaire with enough money to have cosmetic surgery to make me look different. So I’d have to live with that nose for life. Pity you couldn’t trade-in body parts.

  ‘Not tonight. We won’t take Bark with us now. Maybe later?’ I looked at Luke. It was his cat’s life at stake. Puss hated Bark.

  ‘Mrs Donna likes Bark,’ said Luke. ‘She won’t walk him, but she’s feeding him.’

  ‘Only because there’s no one else. When my mum comes back, we’ll have Bark at our place, probably,’ I said quickly. ‘But Luke’s family already have a cat.’

  Sometimes it was really hard, not having your own place. Kat had let the flat where we used to live and I didn’t want to live in Gran’s house without Gran.

  ‘Having a guard dog around is not a bad idea, while the house is empty.’ Bruce sipped his coffee. ‘Now, I’m off to do some research. For tonight’s Missing Millions program, I had to trace the first wife. So I contacted the UK yesterday to search for the divorce again. Unless there was a divorce, the first wife or her family will inherit.’

  That made me think. ‘Even if Woman Number Two had been with him forever?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Maybe that was a Gran clue? Or was I just looking for anything to link with Gran?

  Bruce fiddled with his tie. ‘Tonight’s program is a pre-record. Give you some idea of how we work. Of course, a con-artist case like that attracts all the nutters. Not like your gran’s situation,’ he added quickly as if he hadn’t been sensitive enough to our feelings. ‘Your gran was a bit of an artist, wasn’t she? Paintings?’

  I nodded, ‘Portraits.’

  Luke went fiery red. He was blushing! I knew why. The fallen painting and that sneaker hole.

  ‘Told me she was organising a family portrait,’ Bruce slipped his mini-recorder into his inside pocket. ‘Portraits give clues. Once, we were trying to find a woman’s maiden name. Then we got lucky. There was a big self-portrait. And she’d signed it with her maiden name. I told your gran about that case. She was interested in that too.’

  Luke nudged me. ‘Show him.’

  I felt a bit mixed up, between finding out the answers and worrying in case I found out stuff about Gran that I didn’t really want to know. Like, she might have been a crim. Or a con-artist. But then again, I’d known Gran all my life. Surely I knew better what she was like than some ‘geni’ like Bruce who only met her a couple of times.

  ‘Want to have a look at my gran’s portrait?’ I offered, and led him into the room. Of course, he noticed the sneaker hole. ‘That can be repaired.’ Bruce peered at the signature.‘Yes. Looks genuine.’ Luke’s hole in the canvas didn’t seem to fuss him. It was like he accepted whatever was there. Maybe he thought Gran put her foot through it, and didn’t want to suggest that, after nearly calling her a con-artist.

  ‘Anything on the back? Ah! This painting is more interesting. A family tree with initials, like I have on my tie. Your gran noticed. Are you the Z on the branch Zoe? There’s an S and a K here too.’

  I’d missed that. I’d have a closer look when Bruce left.

  Bruce admitted, ‘I made a mistake, once. Spent months looking for the wrong name. We read the letter as a G instead of an M. Spent ages looking for Gann instead of Mann.’ He checked his watch. ‘I must be off.’

  As we walked him to the front door, I started thinking about letters and names. Could that have happened with Gran’s photo? Those loops on the names on the back of the photo. Should I get it out to show Bruce, before he went? Somehow I didn’t want to share any more of Gran with a stranger like Bruce

  ‘Can one letter wrong make that much difference?’ asked Luke, as they shook hands goodbye.

  ‘Yes. Especially if it’s the surname and you’re chasing alphabetical lists. Most are very long lists.’ Bruce hurried down the path to his car while Luke picked up a package from the side table.

  ‘Alphabetical lists like in a Dead Letter office?’ Luke looked at me and blushed. ‘Sorry. More dead words!’ To change the subject, he held up the package. ‘There’s unopened mail here on the table. D’you reckon we should open it?’

  ‘What’s the address on the back?’ I asked.

  ‘Photographic restorer, Main Street,’ Luke read out. ‘Photos I guess. Maybe they’re of you?’

  I decided to open the package. It was a family group shot of young Pa, Gran and two children — a boy and a baby girl.

  Luke looked closely at the photo.

  ‘This is digitally enhanced,’ he said.

  ‘So what?’

  ‘Extra faces have been added or changed. Look closely.’ He pointed.

  ‘Pa, Gran, Kat as a baby, and someone else. A boy standing behind.’ I looked closely. ‘And here’s a second photo in the package… Pa, the boy and another woman.’ A curl of excitement grew inside me. ‘They’re addressed to Gran. There’s a bill in here, and a note.

  ‘ “The Kovacs family photo you left for re-touching is enclosed. I think you’ll be happy with the result and it was within our quote. The little boy’s head fits in with the group quite naturally. The second photo reproduced quite well.” ’

  Then the lights went off.

  Chapter 6 Answer-phone

  The lights went on.

  ‘Power’s back!’ called Luke, who had been fiddling with the fuse box. ‘Just a fuse.’

  There was a click. And then Gran�
�s voice. ‘This is Madga…I’m glad you called…

  ‘What’s that?’ I swung around. It couldn’t be a ghost. I didn’t believe in ghosts. Just for a second, I wondered if Gran had come back. Maybe someone else had been buried instead of her? There were so many Grans, maybe one had survived.

  Another click. ‘This is Madga…I’m glad you called…’

  Then I realised. The answer-phone had run back to the beginning of the messages.

  ‘How come your gran is talking?’ Luke was freaking out at the sound. That was a first. He was always telling me that I was the weird one.

  I explained. ‘She used to forget to turn off the answer-phone. Sometimes she’d leave it running while she spoke to people, so it recorded her and the caller. It happened a couple of times with Gran and Mum when Kat called via satellite and Gran was so excited she forgot to turn it off.’

  I played back the answer-phone. It was a different kind of message from the dead. Not like the lost-in-cyber-space www.finalthought.com. This one was male and had an accent.

  ‘Hello Madga. I’m not sure if I should call you that or not. It was my mother’s name. But you are not my mother. This is Sandor. I am the son of Janos and Magda. Red Cross International gave me your contact details…’

  A shrieking noise. Then a CLICK.

  ‘Not again! What’s wrong with it?’ I hit the machine. It whirred.

  ‘My guess is that your gran turned off the answer-phone. That’s why it shrieked,’ said Luke.

  I though it might have been her shrieking. ‘What if I rewind it? Will I lose the original message?’

  ‘Try it.’ Luke said.

  The male voice spoke again. ‘I was told that my father had died a year ago. I would like a photo of him. Could you send me one?’

  Then the tape stopped.

  Simultaneously, the phone rang. I lifted the receiver. I chanted the number. What was the good of saying that? Or her name? Or anything? Habit? Phone manners were one of the few things my mum was strict about.

  ‘Is the owner available?’ said a woman’s voice.

  ‘Er no,’ I said. ‘ She’s… er… May I take a message? This is her grand-daughter speaking.’

  ‘No, thank you.’ The woman hung up.

  ‘Put on the answer-phone message,’ Luke clicked it on. ‘Then you won’t have to answer it.’ The tape did a circuit. Then Gran’s voice came on with the recorded message.

  ‘This is Magda Kovacs. I’m glad you called. I’m not here right now, but if you’d like to leave a message, and the time at which you called, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’

  ‘Don’t you think you’d better record a new message?’ suggested Luke. “That one’s past its use-by date. Besides, she can’t.’

  Before I could do it, the phone rang again.

  ‘This is Fortuna. I have a message for Zaria. Our next appointment is at Studio 17, at 4 p.m. tomorrow. I have something to show you.’ Click. The caller had gone.

  Fortuna. For…Tuna? Was that a clue? Had I got the letters and spaces in the right order? I’d have another look at the writing on the bundle of postcards.

  ‘We’ve got a late hockey match tomorrow night. Will you be able to play if you go to that meeting? Missing two in a row isn’t good if you want to make the team,’ warned Luke.

  ‘I’ll play. And I’ll go to Studio 17,’ was my answer.

  Chapter 7 D.N.A.

  At home, after a snack-attack of toasted muffins (3), cheese, salami and tomato, Luke opened up the finalthoughts.com site on his laptop but something had definitely corrupted Gran’s last message. Her e-words had gone into cyber-space.

  ‘Reckon she should get a refund,’ decided Luke.

  ‘Too late for that.’ A wave of sadness came over me. I was trying to do and say ordinary things, but a voice in my head kept asking, ‘Why did my gran arrange those family photos? Of two different families? Who was the boy? Was it the Sandor on the answer-phone who asked for a photo? And who was the other woman? Whose initials were on the family-tree painting of faces? If the K was my mum, was the S for Sandor? Why were they on the one family-tree painting? Why did Gran send me a www.finalthoughts.com message? How could she have been certain that Luke would deliver it to me? If Red Cross International did find people, how could I check without asking Bruce directly? I felt that if I asked him too much, he’d take over, and Gran’d just become an ‘interesting’ case on TV. She was my gran and apart from Mum, I didn’t have anyone else in my family. Luke had his real family but Gran was becoming only what I could remember. And I didn’t want to lose the memories I did have, even if I had to rearrange them as I found out new stuff.

  Other kids knew they were part of blended families and that was OK. Jessica had a step-dad and twin baby brothers, but she knew about them even before they were born. It was just when you weren’t sure who your relatives were that it was a problem.

  Or when you lost facts in cyber-space.

  Luke spoke to the server’s help desk and they were trying to work out why Gran’s finalthoughts message closed down the computer. Those server guys are supernerds, and it’s like playing hi-tech computer games for them. They don’t think about you as a customer, as a person; you are just a tech. problem.

  They made lots of suggestions. Maybe the file was too long? Or it had jpg photo files? Or a virus.

  ‘Leave it with us,’ they said eventually. Not sure if I was keen on being an ‘it’, but I didn’t have much choice. ‘We’ll e-mail you.’

  E-mail isn’t as personal as talking. Techies prefer that. I wonder why Gran used e-mail at the end, too. Maybe it wasn’t as personal as talking to me face-to-face about important family stuff. Or maybe it was just that she ran out of time. You can go online any time and it doesn’t matter which time zone you live in. She’d left me a message in cyber-space, but it was also a message from the past. Weird.

  Then I checked to see if Mum had e-mailed me. She keeps different hours from me because her Antarctic station is in a time zone that’s three hours behind.

  Often Mum forwards me jokes from the other expeditioners. They’re mainly guys Down South, but Mum is one of three women. I used to like the jokes, but now I wonder if she sends me jokes because she can’t think of anything else to say. Other times she sends me digital photos of wildlife, the animal kind like seals or penguins or killer whales. Luke prints them out for me.

  I stick them up beside the wildlife map with the grid references. When Mum sees a special bird like an albatross, she tells me and I mark it on the map. Mum’s a birdo, which means she really notices birds.

  ‘The Sooty Albatross are beautiful,’ she wrote. ‘They fly in pairs and mate for life.’

  Mum didn’t stay with Dad but I guess she still likes the Sooty Albatross best.

  When Mum first went down, she’d just got a new digital camera and she hadn’t read the instructions, so lots of the shots were at odd angles.

  Then she started sending me stuff in a picture code.

  Thank you Zoe for the e-mails from you.

  Since the "written word" is too "hard" sometimes, let’s use "smileys" to describe how we feel when the sentence is written.

  :-) = smiling

  *LOL* = laughing out loud

  *S* smiling — good mood etc.

  :-* = kiss:-( = not so happy

  There are hundreds of these "chat-signs". And you find them all over.

  Mum

  But she didn’t use any of the signs after her name.

  I e-mail her every few days, or when Luke gets off the Warne computer and I can have a turn. I’ve started using a few of the ‘smileys’, but there hasn’t been much to smile about since Gran’s funeral.

  ‘My turn now.’ Luke started checking.

  ‘I've found the finalthoughts.com site. Decided to fill in the forms as if I were your gran to work out what she did. Maybe that will give a clue.’

  I looked over his shoulder and read aloud:

  ‘ “Arrangements for a
fter your Death. To Join, please enter your email address…” But if you fill that in, won’t they charge us a fortune?’ Mum had warned me not to join Internet sites.

  ‘No. I can delete it afterwards. Let’s look at the FAQs and the Demo. Fastest way to find how it works.’

  Luke tapped furiously, as if his fingers had lives of their own. Lives of their own. Death. I’d have to stop thinking of those words.

  Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

  Q. What Services do you provide?

  A. You receive your own personal and confidential File Cabinet with easy-to-use, fill-in-the-blank forms to help you share important information with loved ones.

  Q. Do your services replace the need for a will?

  A. No. In fact, you may actually save time and money by completing our online forms in advance of meeting with a professional. We provide them to help you share information regarding your final wishes with families and friends.

  Q. How will my messages be sent?

  A. Choose one or more individuals to serve as your "Guardian." The Guardian will have his or her own special login and password and will be able to send your messages to your intended recipients when you pass away.

  Q. Can I view your services without joining?

  A. Yes. We recommend that you view the demo on our homepage. You will learn how "Anonymous", our fictional first member, has taken advantage of our services.

  ‘Meet Anonymous. That’s me…’

  Luke hit the delete button.

  ‘Well that’s what your Gran must have done. They’ve even got one for pets. I wonder who fills that one in? A.Dog?’

  ‘Luke!’ called his dad, ‘Come outside and have a hit with your stick. Get off that computer.’

  For the next half hour, down the side of the garage, Luke was fooling around with his Dad. Crack. Bang. Lots of laughs.

  ‘Look out!’

  They were using an old chair as the goal. Luke was dribbling a hockey ball along the uneven driveway. He was trying to score a goal through the chair legs, using his hockey stick. Dad was defending, when he wasn’t doubled up laughing. He hauled at his loose trackie pants, pushed back his daggy glasses and then made another lunge.