by C. Fonseca
Eleven months ago, on the first anniversary of her mother’s death, she’d finally summoned the courage to sort through her belongings. It was hard to be in the cottage without her mum’s physical presence; every corner was filled with reminders of her life. Framed photographs, art and knick-knacks from her travels, and her precious collection of botanical books. Through every doorway, Alexa expected to see her mother, brewing a pot of lemon verbena tea in the kitchen, or painting at her easel on the patio.
Alexa often referred to her mother’s gardening journal, filled with roughly drawn maps and handwritten notes on the dozens of flowers, vegetables, and medicinal herbs she’d planted. As she dug a trough for the tomato seedlings, Alexa was thankful for the mountains of soil and compost her mother had trucked in to enrich the barren, stony plot.
She dropped one seedling after the other along the trench and covered their roots with soil. Although her grandmother had encouraged Alexa to make Gold-Dust Cottage her own, she’d kept most of the furniture, all of the books, and her mother’s flower paintings. The cottage was Alexa’s hideaway, and apart from a new watering system, she hadn’t changed the garden much at all, wanting to preserve this piece of her mum.
“Alexa!” a sharp voice called. The bark of a dog and the clip clap of approaching footsteps across the cottage’s floorboards brought her out of her daydream.
“I’m out here,” she called back. On her knees, she leaned back and braced herself as the Staffordshire terrier barrelled towards her. “Whoa, Daisy,” she cried, holding out her hands in front of her. The puppy flopped onto her back and Alexa tickled her tummy. Daisy wriggled with delight. “Hello, darling Daisy, it’s good to see you, my little petal. Where are your mamas?”
“We’ve arrived.” Kelly came through the back door and into the garden, sporting oversized dark glasses and a big grin.
Alexa smiled. She wasn’t surprised to see Kelly’s sturdy athletic frame clothed in her signature khaki shirt and trousers—minus the wide-brim hat that usually kept her wiry spiralling curls in check.
“Ah, we thought you’d be out here. It’s such a spectacular morning.” Kelly lifted her arms to the sky and bowed as though in homage to the sun. “You should have ventured with us to the Res.” She picked up Daisy with an easy swoop of one hand and tucked her under her arm. “You’d have enjoyed the swim, Alexa.”
Alexa got to her feet and dusted the earth from her hands. “You’re crazy. Too cold for me this early in spring.” She looked around. “Where’s Louise?”
“Putting some things in your fridge, probably reorganising your kitchen.” Kelly laughed and jumped as Louise, who’d appeared by her side, lightly punched her on the arm.
“I was just putting the dessert in the fridge,” Louise said. She walked up to Alexa, balanced on the tip of her toes, and gave her a hug.
Alexa wrapped an arm around Louise’s waist and leaned down to brush her friend’s forehead with a kiss. “Great to see you, Lou. Thank you for the dessert, but you shouldn’t have. I asked you over for lunch,” she said. “How late is it? Time seems to have got away yet again.”
“Is that so?” Kelly winked at Alexa and gently placed the struggling pup onto a patch of grass. “Daisy, you’ve wet my clothes with your dirty feet.” She pulled at her damp shirt.
Louise groaned. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I told Kelly not to let Daisy go through the house.”
Kelly stepped up beside Louise and placed an arm around her wife’s shoulder. “She took off before I could stop her. The front door was open.”
“Don’t worry about Daisy’s footprints. It’ll be cleaned up in a flash,” Alexa said. “Now, about lunch. It won’t take long to put together. There are drinks in the fridge. Make yourselves comfortable on the patio.” She waved her hands in front of her friends. “I’ll have a quick wash and change.”
“I brought some Pale Ale,” Kelly said. “Would you like one?”
“I’m right for now, thanks.” Alexa turned to Louise. “What dessert did you bring?”
“Rhubarb Crumble and coconut custard,” she replied.
“Yum, that sounds a treat.” Alexa swooned at the thought.
“We’ve got loads growing in the garden.”
“Not custard. She means rhubarb.” Kelly smirked. “Not that you need to worry, bean-pole. We can walk it off after lunch.”
Alexa frowned. There was only one person who was allowed to use her nickname from school, and that was Louise. Kelly did tend to take liberties.
“I’m looking forward to lunch,” Kelly said. “What are we having?”
“Ignore Kelly. She wasn’t impressed with the Green Goddess smoothie we had for breakfast.”
Kelly winced. “It was more like green slime.”
“Don’t worry. No slime, but your food intolerances have all been taken into account,” Alexa said and walked into the cottage, contemplating what she was going to feed her friends. She slapped her forehead. As usual she’d forgotten the time and wasn’t prepared.
With the ingredients in her veggie patch and those she’d picked up on her way through Woodend yesterday, she decided on the spot to throw together a salad of grilled halloumi and couscous with tomatoes, leafy greens, and herbs. She hummed contentedly as she spotted the remaining three-quarter loaf of sourdough on the kitchen sideboard. “All sorted. She’ll be right.”
* * *
“That was delicious.” Alexa scooped the remnants of crumble onto her spoon. “You said it was Kelly’s grandma’s recipe?” She popped the last crumbs into her mouth, savouring every last bit.
“My mother’s crumble and Kelly’s mum’s Tongan coconut custard. She taught me how to make it when we visited her in Auckland.”
The sun had moved behind the gumtrees, shadowing the patio where Alexa sat with Louise, enjoying her cup of tea.
“You managed to rustle something together quickly. I gather you’d forgotten we’d been invited for lunch.” Louise grinned.
“Of course, I remembered.” Alexa hid a smirk behind her hand. They both knew she hadn’t exactly forgotten; she’d just been oblivious to the time.
They’d been friends since secondary school, when outgoing Alexa had befriended petite, sweet-natured Louise. She’d been in a loving partnership with Kelly for over a decade. Even though they were proof that it could happen, Alexa couldn’t imagine it happening to her anytime soon. In her immediate family, love often led to heartache, so Alexa would rather maintain her uncomplicated single status than take any risks. She admired Louise and Kelly. They were one of the few couples in her life that had stayed together long-term—and were happy.
“Your mum must be smiling down on you,” Louise said. “Look at the great job you’ve done maintaining her garden.”
“Thanks. It is nice to cook for others using stuff from the veggie patch. The garden supplies more than Granny and I can ever eat.” Alexa propped her feet on the upturned wooden crate, closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. “We should have joined Kelly and Daisy on their walk.”
“Hmm. Do you think so?” Louise groaned contentedly. “You realise, Kel volunteered to take Daisy for another walk to get out of doing the dishes.”
“Smart girl.” Alexa laughed. “She seems more relaxed since she changed jobs.”
“Thank goodness.” Louise gave her a dimpled grin. “I’m fond of her new ranger uniform.”
“If she’s happy, then you’re happy, too,” Alexa said in a playful sing-song voice.
“Speaking of happiness, it’s a shame things didn’t work out with Tara. What happened to her? It was turning into a long-term relationship,” Louise said with a sarcastic smile, tapping Alexa on the knee. “Lasted for nearly two months, didn’t it?”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “Can you believe it—she didn’t like Bruce? It was mutual; he didn’t like her either.”
“How so?”
<
br /> “Bruce bit her nipple.”
Louise clutched her breast. “What? Shock, horror. When did this happen?”
“He was staying with me at the loft while Granny was away. Tara was on his side of the bed.” Alexa folded her arms across her chest. “It wasn’t working anyway. She wanted more of me than I was prepared to give. You know what I mean, the clingy type.” It wouldn’t have been fair to string Tara along when Alexa knew she couldn’t give her what she wanted. Commitment.
“Oh, Alexa. I suppose you tried to send her packing even before breakfast?”
Alexa examined her fingernails. She should trim them soon. Thinking about that was easier than thinking about Louise’s question and its implications.
“No comeback? I hope that when the right woman comes along, you’ll actually recognise her.” Louise flipped her blonde ponytail over her shoulder. “And you’ll want to make her breakfast.”
Alexa squirmed in her seat as they fell silent. She didn’t enjoy being reminded of her inadequacies. Alexa had no idea if she could change, or if she wanted to. She might be kidding herself, but why create complications when her current laid-back dating style suited her perfectly?
“Okay,” Louise piped up, startling Alexa. “Tell me more about the photographer you met at work.”
“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me something.” Alexa smiled, relieved at the change of topic. She’d messaged Louise asking her if she knew of Eleanor, or her aunt.
“Yes. I looked them up. They both have impressive bios,” Louise said with a bright smile. “I thought I recognised the name. One of my students based their masters on Helen Heysen’s work.”
“Really?” Alexa gently prodded her friend’s forearm. “That’s interesting.”
“Uh-huh. Eleanor’s aunt was well respected in her field, and Eleanor herself has won a few awards of her own,” Louise said. “And you didn’t have a clue, did you?”
“No, I didn’t know anything about Eleanor before we met, but Jac knew who her aunt was. Eleanor comes from a Melbourne dynasty of corporate lawyers.”
“Yeah, I read that. I wonder what Eleanor’s family thought when she graduated with honours and didn’t practice law.” Louise reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. After a moment of tapping on the screen, she held it up to Alexa. “She takes a rather good photo.”
Alexa bit her lip. “Yes, as you said, she’s won awards.”
“Awards for her good looks?” Louise arched an eyebrow.
“She seemed strangely defensive when I met her. But I guess she’s seen a lot and been in some pretty tough situations.” Alexa ignored Louise’s comment, but it was true. There was no denying the fact that Eleanor Heysen was extremely good looking.
“That’s the life of a documentary photographer. How old is she?”
“Only thirty-six.”
“I wonder what she’s doing back here?”
“I have no idea,” Alexa replied. “We should have information on the glass plate negatives fairly soon. I’m hoping to call her back to the library by the end of next week.” Fingers crossed Katherine would give her the project.
“What did I miss? Who are you hoping to call by the end of next week?” Kelly strode towards them from around the side of the house with Daisy padding slowly behind.
Louise held up her phone to face Kelly. “Her.”
“Her.” Kelly moved closer to peer at the screen. “Now, where have I seen that woman? And why have you got a photo of her on your phone?”
“She came in to see Alexa at the library yesterday with some old photographic slides,” Louise said. “How do you know Eleanor Heysen?”
Kelly waved her finger in the air. “Ahh, that’s who she is. I met Eleanor a few years ago at an exhibition. She was swanning about with the Melbourne art set on the arm of that Aussie actor.” She scratched her forehead. “What’s her name?”
“Mia Conti,” Alexa said staring at the screen. While researching Eleanor, she’d found lots of stuff about the couple. She’d been amazed that Eleanor had made such a name for herself and mixed in such glamorous circles. “You’ve actually met Eleanor Heysen?”
Kelly nodded. “They’d been touted as a couple on social media and then there they were, seen with my very own eyes in a St. Kilda gallery.”
“I remember you were thrilled about meeting Mia Conti and her girlfriend,” Louise said with a smirk.
Alexa turned to Kelly. “I read that they’d split two years ago.”
“Yep. Mia’s been working in Hollywood for a bit. She’s with an American now. At the time, I remember thinking Eleanor was pretty gorgeous. She and Mia looked fantastic together,” Kelly said with a dreamy eyed expression.
“My wife is so star-struck. Aren’t you, honey?” Louise asked fondly. “More importantly, Alexa, what was your overall impression of her?”
Alexa took a deep breath and shrugged. “Eleanor was only with me for an hour. She was okay. I was suitably impressed,” she replied laconically, even though just the thought of Eleanor made the back of her neck tingle.
Kelly reached over and held her hand out for Louise’s phone. “Can I take another look?” She scrolled through the pictures, rocking back and forth on her heels, occasionally squinting at Alexa.
“What?” Alexa asked, even though she had a pretty good idea what Kelly was thinking.
“You thought she was okay?” Kelly beamed at Alexa. “Great, because really, she looks like she could be your type.”
“I don’t have a type,” Alexa snapped.
Louise and Kelly stared at each other, turned to Alexa, and grinned.
“A bit broody, slightly dishevelled hair, big brown eyes,” Louise began, bowing to Kelly to continue.
“Lean, fit, tall…gorgeous.”
“I disagree.” Alexa shook her head and scrambled to her feet, determined to hide her embarrassment from her friends. She held her hand to the top of Kelly’s head. “She’s more your height, actually, about five centimetres shorter than me.”
Alexa squeezed her eyes shut and held out her arms, soaking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. One of her friends nudged her playfully on the shoulder, and she was aware of their friendly laughter, but her mind had already drifted back to …lean, fit…gorgeous… Alexa smiled to herself as she thought of spending more time with Eleanor.
Chapter 7
Triple knitting
Each time Eleanor returned to Melbourne, she noticed how the central streetscape changed. The buildings grew taller, the spaces between them smaller, like crowded plants pushing upwards reaching for air, reaching for the sky. Her hometown was now in the league of some of the most modern cities of the world. Thankfully, it had retained many impressive heritage buildings within the inner-city matrix.
Today, as she walked along crowded pavements, through secret laneways and into the central market, as always, her camera hung around her neck, tucked inside her jacket.
Watching natural light play across the buildings, reflecting off the glass and onto people in the street, Eleanor was struck by the contrasts and similarities of the organic human form caught in everyday activities and the geometric shapes in the architecture around her.
A silvery shimmer drew Eleanor’s attention, and she spied two ladies of advanced years, with snowy white hair sheltering under a plane tree. The shopping trolleys tucked beside each woman overflowed with packages. Dappled light lit their smiling faces. Eleanor’s camera was ready with the aperture and shutter speed set and the lens focussed to affinity. She unzipped her jacket and pulled out the Leica, knowing she would have to act quickly as the mood could change in a flash of a second.
Positioning herself behind a tall A-framed signboard, she lifted the camera to her eye. As the taller of the two women reached inside her trolley and plucked out two bananas, handing one to her companion, Eleanor pressed the s
hutter button, capturing a continuous series of images.
She glanced down at the screen and smiled in satisfaction at the pictures. Moody, gentle—almost mystical monochromes. Beyond the details of the women’s faces, their wrinkles and slightly bent bodies, their vitality shone. Using a shallow depth of field, Eleanor had created an intimate portrait with a streaky, blurred background of the pedestrians hurrying by, bringing the women into sharp focus. She’d followed her instinct and it had paid off.
When she turned back towards the couple, they were nowhere in sight. The moment had passed, gone forever. Now, light filtering between the large leaves of the towering plane tree lit the empty pavement.
Eleanor secured the camera back inside her jacket and kept walking towards the library. She didn’t have a definitive answer when people asked, “What made you the photographer you are today?” The obvious answer was Helen, but that didn’t tell the whole story. Since Eleanor was a child, she’d loved capturing a moment in time with her camera. There had always been something that stirred her very bones and called her to document the world around her. She just wasn’t very good at explaining that to people.
At the library entrance, there was an elderly woman standing all alone at the bottom of the stairs, gazing upwards. She was stylish in a deep red jacket and skirt, holding a cane in her right hand and a large upholstered bag in the other. Eleanor’s fingers tingled. That would make a great shot. Just as she retrieved her camera, the woman turned, caught her gaze, and gave her a tentative smile. Eleanor grinned back in return. Too late.
She slid the camera back inside her jacket and took a couple of steps until she stood beside the eye-catching woman. Photographing the older generation—emphasising their resilience—was a concept she’d like to develop further.
“May I be of assistance?” Eleanor asked. “These stairs are steep. Would you like to take my arm? We can go up together.”
