The January Wish

by Juliet Madison

  She giggled along with some children nearby when each new wave approached. They would try to run away from it, but she walked into it, each splash enlivening her, waking her. What would it be like to live here all the time? If she did, she’d probably come to the beach every morning; it was a great way to wake up and start the day.

  Grace’s eyes soaked up the vast expanse of blue surrounding her, and she wasn’t sure where the ocean finished and the sky began. It was all connected. Up to her right, the famous ‘Tarrin’ sat proudly on the headland. The brochure she’d read said the town was named after the unique ‘Earth Man’ rock formation, which naturally resembled a man’s face. Years of waves gone before had sculpted cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a protrusion that looked like a nose. It was amazing, actually, that a random natural phenomenon could produce something that appeared to be sculpted on purpose.

  After a few minutes, Grace walked back up the hill to the caravan park, took a quick shower and got dressed into denim shorts and a white t-shirt. Now that it looked like she might be here for a while yet, she’d have to buy more clothes. Hopefully the markets would have some inexpensive options.

  By eleven, Grace stood at the Wishing Fountain in Miracle Park, reading the plaque nearby.

  ‘Hi Grace.’ Sylvia approached, her eyes slightly bloodshot.

  ‘Oh hi, I wish I’d known about this Wishing Festival thing, I could have come here earlier for that and made a wish!’

  ‘Not to worry, maybe next year, huh?’

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ she replied.

  ‘Hey, I was thinking we should probably exchange phone numbers,’ Sylvia said, scratching her ear and alternating her stance to her other foot.

  ‘Sure,’ Grace whipped out her phone from the canvas satchel strapped diagonally across her chest. She punched in Sylvia’s number, and Sylvia did the same on her phone.

  ‘So, is there anything in particular you’d like to look at, or will we just wander around?’ asked Sylvia, turning her head from one side to the other.

  She’s probably seen all these stalls a million times. I hope she doesn’t mind being here.

  ‘I’m happy to wander, although I’d love to get some new clothes somewhere.’

  ‘There’s a lot of bargains here, let’s see what we can find, shall we?’ Sylvia smiled, and Grace’s heart warmed. Here she was, enjoying the summery ambience of the markets, and shopping with her biological mother.

  She remembered shopping with Maria, the only mother she’d known and loved all her life, and buying her first bra. Her mother had to fight back tears when the shop assistant rang it up and handed Grace the plastic shopping bag. Grace couldn’t wait to get home and put it on, so much so, she even took a raincheck on her mother’s offer of taking her to her favourite dress shop. At that stage, Grace knew she was adopted, but it didn’t concern her all that much as she’d grown up knowing the truth since she was little. In fact, when she was younger she assumed that all children were adopted, and that parents simply picked the kids they wanted from an orphanage. After asking just about every child in her kindergarten class when they were adopted, David and Maria Forrester were advised by teachers to explain the situation a little better to their daughter.

  As she got older, Grace of course wanted to know if they knew anything about her birth mother, and why she’d given her up. Her parents said that she was too young to be able to care for her properly and give her a good life, and she loved Grace enough to give her to a couple who couldn’t have children of their own.

  Our special little angel they’d called Grace since she was little.

  ‘Oh, those tops are awesome!’ Grace seemed pulled to one of the clothing stalls like a paperclip to a magnet. She lifted and turned the tops on the rack, and held some up to her body in front of a mirror. ‘Only ten bucks each, wow!’

  In no way concerned with passers-by, she lifted her t-shirt off right there, revealing a spaghetti-strap singlet beneath. Grace pulled a top over her head and turned side to side in the mirror. ‘What do you think?’ she asked Sylvia.

  Sylvia seemed taken aback. ‘I um, I think…it suits you,’ she replied.

  ‘Good. I’ll have four of these,’ she said to the salesperson, while lifting the top over her head and replacing it with her own. The tops were cotton, with an over-layer of mesh sewn haphazardly in different angles across the front. Grace chose the pink, blue, white, and silver tops, and handed forty dollars to the sales person.

  ‘Listen, if there’s anything else you want, or need, I’m happy to buy it for you,’ Sylvia said quietly.

  Grace flicked her hand. ‘Oh, you don’t have to do that. Thanks though, I appreciate it.’

  ‘Well, if you ever do need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ Grace smiled, and they walked to the next stall, a homemade food stall, where Sylvia picked up four bottles of chilli and tomato relish.

  They wandered for another half hour or so, grabbed a bite to eat, then Grace found another stall she wanted to check out.

  ‘How cool, I’m going to do it!’ Grace said, as she eyed the fancy equipment and saw a person walk away thanking the stallholder, grasping a large photo. ‘I’ve always wanted to try iridology! Do you mind?’ Grace’s eyes queried Sylvia’s.

  ‘Um sure, go ahead. But while you’re doing that, I might just take a look at this stall over here,’ Sylvia said, walking awkwardly towards the next stall displaying knitted baby clothes and toys.

  Why would she want to look at baby items? ‘Er…okay then.’ Grace eyed her curiously, until Sylvia looked at the baby items and her face became red.

  ‘Oops, I meant that stall…over there,’ she said, pointing to a handmade jewellery display.

  ‘Sylvia, long time no see.’ Grace turned around to see the man behind the iridology equipment winking in Sylvia’s direction.

  ‘Oh, hi Mark,’ Sylvia said, in what seemed to be a fake tone of surprise.

  ‘So you’ve been to this stall before, Sylvia?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Me? No, no, Mark and I work at the same clinic.’

  ‘Oh, right. Cool.’ Grace smiled and walked up to Mark, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Grace. I’d love to see what my eyes tell you.’

  ‘Sure, just take a seat, and rest your chin here.’ Mark pointed to something protruding from the equipment, and she settled her chin on it while he took a photo of her eyes.

  ‘I, ah, I’ll just be over here.’ Sylvia was obviously anxious to check out the jewellery.

  ‘No worries, I’ll fill you in on the secrets of my soul later!’ Grace replied. Sylvia nodded and scuttled away.

  Mark fiddled with a laptop computer, and soon the irises of her eyes appeared enlarged on the screen.

  ‘Whoa! How weird is that?’ Grace had no idea her eyes contained that much detail. There were colours woven through her irises that she didn’t even realise were there.

  Mark smiled, and examined the photo. ‘Okay, first of all, this tells me that your circulation isn’t as good as it could be. Are you prone to dizziness or fainting spells?’

  Grace chuckled, nodding her head.

  ‘And what about cold hands and feet?’ Mark asked.

  ‘How did you know?’

  Mark ran a finger around the dark outer rim of Grace’s irises on the computer screen. ‘This here is called a scurf rim. Most people who have this sign have poor circulation. And see these other markings,’ he moved his finger over what looked like cracks of some kind, ‘I’d say you’re also prone to muscle cramps and spasms. Do you get any leg cramps or eyelid twitches?’

  Grace thought she could feel her eyelid twitching as he spoke, and then found herself rubbing her calf muscles. ‘Wow, you’re good. I always get those eyelid twitches, and once they start they’re hard to stop. What does it mean?’

  ‘Sometimes it’s due to eyestrain, but often it’s a simple magnesium deficiency. Do you have trouble winding down, or falling asleep at night?’

  ‘Definitel
y trouble winding down, I can’t seem to switch my mind off sometimes. But I can also find it hard to get going in the morning, especially now I’m not at school anymore. It’s easy to sleep in.’ Grace went off on a tangent, as she often did. ‘I’m also really tired in the afternoons, but as soon as I’ve had dinner I’m wide awake!’

  Mark nodded. ‘That’s common with magnesium deficiency. It can make it hard to relax, but also contribute to fatigue. But if you’re tired often, that’s not great for someone as young as you, so if it concerns you it might be good to come in for an appointment so I can assess your diet and lifestyle.’

  ‘Sure, I’d like to actually.’ Grace picked up one of Mark’s business cards, then looked at the computer screen. ‘What’s that ugly spot thing?’ She pointed to a dark patch on the lower part of her right eye.

  ‘That’s a psoric spot. They usually appear over areas that have a genetic inefficiency of some kind. Are there any kidney problems in your family history?’

  Family history was one thing Grace had no idea about. Maybe she should bring it up with Sylvia? ‘Um, I’m not exactly sure,’ Grace replied, twisting her lips to one side. ‘But I have had a problem with my kidneys once. Actually, there’s something I should probably tell you…’ Grace filled him in briefly on her medical history and left the stall with a photo of her irises, an appointment booking for Wednesday morning, and a questionnaire she was to fill out and bring to the appointment.

  * * *

  Thank God, here she comes. Sylvia had just about memorised the entire display of jewellery and their prices, as she tried to look interested while waiting for Grace. The stallholder must have presumed she was concocting a tactical strategy for stealing jewellery, as she hovered back and forth wherever Sylvia was standing. She asked ‘Can I help you?’ and ‘Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?’ and ‘You’re sure there’s nothing I can help you with?’ several times, and each time Sylvia replied, ‘No thanks I’m just looking.’

  ‘Thanks for waiting, what did you get?’ Grace asked as she approached.

  ‘Er, nothing,’ said Sylvia.

  ‘Oh, I thought you must have wanted to get something, you seemed keen.’

  ‘Nothing really caught my eye.’

  ‘Oh well. Hang on…unless, you weren’t trying to avoid talking to him were you?’ Grace’s eyes glanced in the direction of Mark, who was now busy talking to another interested customer.

  ‘Huh? What do you mean?’ Sylvia said, trying to shut out the shaving cream fantasy from her mind again, and most likely turning a deep shade of crimson. Now that she worked with Mark, it would be best to keep a professional distance. Plus she didn’t want him to know Grace was her daughter, didn’t want to give off a false impression or be judged in any way.

  ‘You two, you haven’t been…involved or anything, have you?’

  ‘Oh no, definitely not!’

  ‘Oh good, I wouldn’t want to cause any awkwardness between you. I’ve booked in for an appointment with him, he’s going to assess my diet and give me some health tips. Look at the picture of my eyes!’ Grace showed Sylvia the print-out.

  ‘Hmm, interesting. Well, I’m glad to see that you’re health conscious,’ Sylvia replied. But why did she have to believe all this hype about iridology; surely it wasn’t an accurate way to assess someone’s health?

  ‘So, I take it you’re not married,’ Grace said, eyeing Sylvia’s bare fingers. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

  Sylvia almost replied, ‘Yes, his name’s Richard,’ but the memory of him storming out that night caught her words.

  I didn’t sign up for this.

  I just can’t take on anything complicated right now.

  All of a sudden she was classed as ‘complicated’, even though all her life she’d strived to be the reliable, consistent, successful, organised, and easygoing woman that any man would be happy to have in his life. Grace’s arrival had complicated things. Part of her was so pleased to have met her and to be with her right now, and the other part was wondering whether it would have been best to leave the past in the past, and keep living the stable life she’d worked so hard to create. The life where no one knew what happened eighteen years ago, and her reputation could remain intact. So many people in town that she knew as a child still lived here today. They’d smile and wave as she passed them in the street, and some had even become patients. It would be a shock for them to find out the real reason she’d left town all those years ago.

  ‘So, do you?’ Grace nudged Sylvia’s arm with her elbow.

  ‘No, I’m single,’ Sylvia replied coolly. She couldn’t say, ‘I did until you turned up.’ It wasn’t Grace’s fault, and she didn’t want to make her feel like she was intruding.

  ‘Me too,’ Grace said. ‘Although I’ve seen a few cute guys around here!’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll find someone special when the time is right.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Grace glanced around. ‘Oh, hey—do you mind if we check out the bookstore?’

  ‘Sure.’ Good idea. Sylvia had nearly finished the book she was currently reading and would need another one soon. She only ever bought one or two books at a time, refusing to buy any more until she’d read the others. Unlike Larissa, whose To-Be-Read-Pile resembled the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

  ‘I’m a bit of a bookaholic,’ Grace said as they walked across the road.

  ‘Well, it’s a good addiction to have, I guess.’ Sylvia smiled.

  ‘Wow, this isn’t like any other bookstore I’ve seen, it’s so…homely.’ Grace’s eyes widened as they entered Mrs May’s Bookstore and wandered along the creaky timber floor aisles. Tall wooden shelves divided the shop into sections, and in the corner were a couple of old-fashioned velvet upholstered armchairs. There was even a separate room housing the children’s books, complete with tables and chairs and a puppet theatre.

  Sylvia always welcomed the warm, rich scent of timber and books, and each time it brought her back to her childhood. This store had been around for as long as she could remember. She’d come in here after school with her mother in the days when Mrs May herself worked in the store. Now in her eighties, Mrs May still owned the store but it was run by her daughter and granddaughter now, although she still came in occasionally to check on things. Sometimes Sylvia saw her at the clinic as she was a patient of Dr Bronovski, and always admired her strength of character and resilience. She’d had a few health challenges, but just as she’d start to look frail, she’d bounce back again. A penchant for hard work seemed to run in the family. Sylvia had gone to school with Mrs May’s granddaughter, Olivia, who now seemed to work at the store every day while raising a daughter on her own.

  Sylvia remembered flipping through books in the store with her mother and tugging on her skirt in hope of having one bought for her. Sometimes they’d sit at one of the chairs and read together. On Fridays, the children’s room would be packed full of kids, waiting in anticipation for Mrs May’s weekly puppet show.

  ‘Yes, the store is definitely one of a kind,’ Sylvia said.

  ‘So, what sorts of books do you like reading?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Um…a bit of a mixture I guess. I like suspense and mystery novels, but I also like real life stories—you know, people who have overcome difficult odds and survived, or have been through something major—that sort of thing.’

  ‘So you like stories with a bit of meat in them?’

  ‘Yeah I guess, but nothing too gruesome, more psychological and intellectual suspense than anything.’

  ‘Oh! Have you read this one? It’s totally amazing.’ Grace shoved a copy of A Difference of Opinion in her face, and Sylvia had to lean back to be able to read the cover properly. God, she wasn’t losing her perfect eyesight was she? She hoped it’d be a while before she’d have to wear glasses like both her parents, who had to lean back, squint, and extend something in front of them as far as their arm would reach in order to read it. She saw it all the time, people over the age of forty-five or f
ifty, whose ability to read and focus on things up close gradually diminished. There was a name for it: presbyopia. One of the most common eye problems affecting middle-aged people.

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ Sylvia turned the book over to read the back cover.

  ‘It’s got everything—mystery, suspense, secrets, lies…and then, just when you think you have it worked out—bam!’ Grace clapped her hands together. ‘A twist appears that throws everything you ever thought out the window.’

  Hmm…sounds like my life. Sylvia held the book close to her side. ‘I’ll take it then.’

  ‘Great! You’ll love it. Okay, now let’s find you another goodie. Oh, here’s one,’ Grace said enthusiastically.

  ‘Actually, I usually only buy one book at a time. When I’ve finished this one I’ll come back and get another,’ Sylvia stated.

  ‘Really? Okay, well remember this for next time. This one’s about a woman who travels to India in search of her missing husband. It’s like the TV show 24 on steroids. There’s fast-paced action, but also a lot of mind games and stuff that you’d probably like.’

  Sylvia nodded, impressed by Grace’s sales ability.

  ‘And this book,’ Grace said, holding up a copy of The Stranger, ‘is more of an emotional mystery than suspense, but it totally hooks you in from the start and you really feel like you know the characters personally. The last few chapters were so intriguing I stayed up half the night to finish them!’

  ‘I’ll add it to my mental list.’ Sylvia decided. And later she’d add it to her actual list, or more precisely, her ‘Books I Want To Read’ spreadsheet, with books listed in categories and in order of priority.

  Grace had other ideas. Click! She took a photo of the two books. ‘I’ll give you a copy of the pic so you remember exactly what they look like when you come back to find them.’ Grace ran a finger along the bookshelves. ‘Do you have a favourite book? Like, a favourite book of all time?’

  Sylvia rolled her eyes upward and thought for a moment. ‘Actually, there’s one book that stands out for me. It’s a classic, written in the 1860s. The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins, have you heard of it?’