by C. Fonseca
* * *
“What a great location. This is where you live?” Eleanor looked up at the solid brick building, its factory-styled windows and pencil-thin black steel frames. “I love how the elm tree’s green canopy and twisted branches reflect in those huge windows. It must be bright inside. How lucky you are to have such a place, just a stone’s throw away from the city.” Eleanor longed to have something like this for herself. One day.
Alexa spread her arms wide and smiled. “Home sweet home.”
“You’re so close to the park and walking trails along the river. What was this building originally?”
“A shoe factory. My loft is one of two self-contained apartments. It has its own street entrance and a lock-up garage.”
“Of course.” Eleanor glanced along the narrow semi-residential street. She couldn’t imagine Alexa leaving her cherished car parked on this road. She would have to have undercover parking for Farina.
Leo raced around to the passenger side and opened Alexa’s door. Eleanor liked that her brother was old fashioned and gallant in the nicest of ways. He opened the rear door, holding the front seat forward for Eleanor to climb out as well.
Once out of the car, Eleanor and Alexa stood there smiling at each other. Eleanor thrust her hands in her pockets, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She knew she should say something instead of standing there like a fool, but she couldn’t think of anything sensible to say.
Leo cleared his throat. “So, would you like me to walk Alexa to the door, or will you do the honours, Eleanor?”
Eleanor thumped him on the arm as Alexa turned to face him with an appreciative smile and held out her hand. “Leo, it was good meeting you. Thanks for the lift home.”
They briefly shook hands. “You’re welcome.” Leo tilted his head towards Eleanor. “I’ll be waiting right here.”
Alexa opened a heavy iron entrance gate and walked through. “Come with me?” She looked invitingly over her shoulder at Eleanor.
Eleanor nodded, following her through the gateway. A wire-mesh fence covered in a tangle of colourful vines lined one side of the cobbled path, leading to an impressively large door, deep blue in colour.
Alexa pulled her satchel off her shoulder, placing it down on the bluestone step. She crouched, rummaging around in her bag. “Where are those keys?” She looked up apologetically as her hand continued searching. “I’m sorry the weekend didn’t quite achieve what we’d hoped.”
Well, that had a double meaning, didn’t it? Eleanor wanted to run and hide; instead she ducked her head in agreement.
Jasmine laced the air, and Eleanor inhaled its fragrant scent, feeling a little giddy and unsettled. Here she was, outside Alexa’s apartment. After putting the brakes on and not accepting Alexa’s invitation to share her bed at the cottage, could Eleanor ever expect an invitation inside? Where would they go from here? If anywhere. She had to remind herself that it was sometimes best to focus on the moment and not get hung up about the future.
“You were great company, especially in the storm with your red umbrella.” Alexa waved her keys in front of Eleanor. “Bingo,” she said. “Give me a buzz when you meet with the Image Tech team. We could have a coffee together.”
“I will.” Eleanor was relieved that her rebuff last night had not altered Alexa’s good nature and readiness to spend time with her.
Alexa turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door, and dropped her satchel on the polished concrete floor inside. Eleanor peered into the cavernous space. It was inviting and spacious. An exposed brick wall lined the entranceway, and another wall was covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves.
“What day are you photographing Gran? Isn’t that sometime this week as well?” Alexa stood in the doorway, watching Eleanor with interest.
“Err, Tuesday,” Eleanor said. “I’m going to Grace’s house on Tuesday morning and the library for part of Thursday and Friday. Luckily, Dad hasn’t got many appointments this week.”
“I’m off site on Thursday, but I’ll be there most of Friday.” Alexa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, maybe next time, you’ll come inside.” She leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Eleanor’s cheek.
Eleanor shivered. “I’d like that. See you sometime on Friday, then.” She strolled towards Leo’s car, trying not to skip a little in her excitement. Cupping her hand over her cheek, she could still feel the brush of Alexa’s lips.
She didn’t hear the door close; Alexa was probably still watching her. Eleanor looked down. She’d better concentrate. If she didn’t watch her step on the uneven path, she’d likely trip over and make a complete clown of herself.
As soon as she’d fastened her seatbelt, Leo looked her up and down with one of his annoyingly smug expressions. “Well, that was a sweet, chaste kiss.”
“What were you doing, perving at us?” She narrowed her eyes.
He started the car and pulled out into the street. “Just checking.” He chuckled loudly. “Had an impromptu sleepover in the country, did you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t you think it’s strange that Alexa took you on a road trip in a leaky vehicle when a rainstorm was predicted?”
“She didn’t know there was going to be a storm,” Eleanor said, defensiveness rising within her.
“Uh-huh,” he repeated her words, shaking his head.
Eleanor gave him a withering stare. “Honestly, Leo. She wouldn’t have endangered her prized Peugeot if she’d known.”
“Handy, though. A cottage in the woods, log fire, nice and cosy during the storm. All night.”
She placed both hands over her ears. “Enough,” Eleanor said. “With three bloody lawyers in the family, I don’t stand a chance.”
“Okay, I get it. She does have dazzling green eyes,” Leo said smoothly. “Captivating green eyes.”
“Hmmm. Hazel-green eyes.”
Alexa’s eyes constantly appeared to change colour. One moment like the dappled hues of the Caribbean Sea. Sometimes, the lush yellow green of the Sri Lankan rice paddies. Just before they’d kissed at the cottage, her eyes had turned dark, like the gold-flecked amber sand of the Baltic seashore.
At a red light, Leo turned to Eleanor and stared fixedly at her. “Are you okay?”
“Yep, I am.” Eleanor scrubbed at her forehead, as if to clear her vision of Alexa’s eyes. “How was lunch with Mr and Mrs Wright?”
“The Honourable Judge Wright, Mrs Wright, and Ms Wright,” Leo said with a hint of mischief in his eyes. “How could we go wrong?”
Eleanor laughed. “Ms Wright?”
“Yes.” Leo nodded. “Stella Wright is a member of Counsel in commercial arbitration and dispute resolution.”
“Impressive. I gathered Mum had an ulterior motive for the lunch,” Eleanor said. “So, was she right for you?”
He laughed loudly and shook his head. “Oh, no. You’ve got it wrong. That’s why Mum was so upset. Stella was there to meet you, the famed photographer, and you didn’t show.”
“What? No, Mum wouldn’t be so blatant—”
They looked at each other knowingly and said simultaneously, “Yes, she would.” Then burst out laughing.
Eleanor was still giggling and shaking her head thinking about her lucky escape when Leo drove down the tree-lined street where their parents lived, pulled into the paved driveway, and parked in front of the three-car garage.
Their mother had strange ideas about who would make suitable partners for her children. She uttered a groan of despair, remembering Alexa’s lips on hers. What would their mother make of Alexa?
Leo switched off the car. “So, did you have a good time in the goldfields? Find what you were looking for?”
Eleanor shrugged. “We did find a few of the slides’ locations. Not all of them though.”
“Gives you a reason to go
back, then?”
“Hmm…We’ll see.”
Of course, she wanted to go back, with Alexa as her guide. She’d had fun while they’d explored the goldfields and learnt heaps about the region. Alexa was beguiling, with her catalogue of facts and stories and her vivid imagination. Apart from a tendency to lose track of time, she was well-organised, and that was a definite plus for Eleanor. Alexa put Eleanor at ease. She was the perfect person to help Eleanor investigate into Helen’s slides. Why, then, did the prospect of seeing her again on Friday both excite Eleanor and throw her into a panic?
Chapter 13
Bouquet of flowers
Eleanor arrived at the front gate of Grace’s home with just her camera backpack and a bunch of coral peonies from her parents’ garden. She hadn’t had to cross a surging river or fight her way through a crowd of rioters for this photoshoot, but she was still excited at the prospect of photographing Alexa’s grandmother. Eleanor was five minutes early for their ten-thirty appointment, and not wanting to be rude, she stopped at the gate to study the house. The two-storey terrace with its postage stamp sized front garden was as neat as a pin. Eleanor considered it to be a large rambling house for one person to live on their own.
Nana and Grandad Heysen’s big old house in Melbourne was sold when Grandad died. Nana Marlies wouldn’t listen to Eleanor’s father, who encouraged her to stay, and instead re-located to a retirement village, where she lived in a tiny, two-bedroom unit. It had turned out to be a good move, because Nana enjoyed the company of the other residents and she still loved to travel. Eleanor applauded her nana for standing her ground.
Unlatching the gate, Eleanor traversed the short path and three steps onto the wide terracotta tiled porch. She hadn’t noticed last time that there was a handrail but no ramp. Trust Grace to eschew modifications to the house. Good on her.
Grace met her at the front door attired in tailored slacks, a soft green argyle sweater, and a silk scarf draped around her neck. Bruce, the ginger cat, was held under her arm. Eleanor admired Grace’s style and confidence.
“Good morning, dear. You are punctual.” Giggling, Grace beckoned Eleanor inside and closed the door. “Not like my granddaughter.”
“Not too early, I hope?”
“Of course not. Your timing is perfect.”
“Good morning, Grace,” Eleanor said. “Hello, Bruce.”
“We love spring mornings, don’t we, puss? He was up at the crack of dawn, itching to get outside and chase the lorikeets feeding on my tomato vines.”
“Naughty boy…or is that a good thing?” Eleanor stroked his stripy fur, and he wriggled his torso in response, purring loudly. “I was up early for a jog around the neighbourhood before breakfast.”
“Well, no wonder you’re so radiant,” Grace said so enthusiastically that Bruce leapt out of her arms and scurried down the hallway. “Where is all your camera gear? The lights and other paraphernalia you people use?”
Eleanor couldn’t help but feel a tingle of anticipation as she held out her bag in front of her. “I’ve got everything I need in here. I’m going with a handheld camera today. We’ll use natural light and our imaginations; it will just enhance your beauty.” She handed Grace the flowers. “These are for you.”
“You are a charmer.” Grace accepted the peonies and took a deep breath. “Simply marvellous fragrance, Eleanor. Thank you.” She covered her face with her free hand and peeked through her splayed fingers, her brown eyes challenging. “Where do we start?”
Grace stood near the leadlight panelled front door; prisms of light suffusing the entrance hall bathing her with soft colour. Eleanor gave a satisfied sigh. The gentle nature of the filtered light would make a flattering portrait shot.
“How about right here?” Eleanor opened her bag, pulled out her camera, and looped the leather strap around her neck. She focussed and snapped. “Perfect.” Eleanor smiled. She had successfully captured the dreamy ethereal effect she’d been after.
“That was quick.” Grace wriggled her slim shoulders. “Where to next? How about the living room? The light is just lovely at this time of day.”
Grace perched on the edge of the chaise lounge while Eleanor took in the layout of the room, considering her options. When taking close-ups, she would use the 50mm lens to zoom in on Grace’s facial expressions and textures. She’d take wide angle shots that would place Grace amongst her belongings—the ancient writing desk where she said she had penned her magazine column and the two bright semi-abstract watercolours on the wall above, painted by her daughter, Eloise—weaving together aspects of her life story.
“Sitting here, I have a perfect view of children playing in the street,” Grace said. “When I finished school, I thought about teaching, but my mother was not taken with the idea. Father was much more of a forward thinker, though, and wanted me to have a career. He served in the First World War and was a keen sportsman, like many members of the Brown family. He was one of the first—” Grace stopped mid-sentence and shook her head. “He studied and played football for Melbourne University before he went to war.”
“What did he study?” Eleanor asked. A spark of recognition had been triggered by the name. Alexa had mentioned her great-grandfather’s name was William, but she’d never given a surname. So why did the name William Brown sound so familiar to Eleanor?
“Father was an engineer,” Grace continued.
Eleanor examined the light meter in her hand, readjusting the dial. “And you married an engineer, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I was working as a typist and just twenty-one when we met. He swept me off my feet, but Father insisted Gerald and I court for a year before we married.” Her eyelids fluttered, and she placed her hand over her heart.
Eleanor pressed the shutter, capturing a series of shots. The angle of the light just grazing the skin surface, creating tiny shadows in the lines and pores of Grace’s expressive hands. She wanted to draw attention to the details—bringing depth and emotion to the images, emphasising Grace’s bony wrist that appeared too delicate for the oversized emerald ring she wore on the ring finger of her left hand.
“I was twenty-five years old when Gerald died. A widow with a two-year-old toddler. I don’t know how we would have survived if Uncle Oswald hadn’t offered me a job.” Grace cupped her chin in her hand, perfectly framed, and Eleanor waited for the moment when she appeared to be between thoughts before she clicked the shutter again.
Grace seemed almost oblivious to Eleanor as she changed angles, checking the light meter and lifting the camera to her eye.
“I was suddenly a copy girl,” she continued. “A newspaper career had never really been in my sights. It was not a particularly glamorous job in the 1950s.”
Eleanor smiled as Grace leaned back in the chaise lounge, her hands folded in her lap. Bruce lay on the top of the backrest, paws tucked underneath his body, head erect like a sphinx.
Eleanor crouched and lifted her camera. Click. Grace was posed with the light through the sash window at a forty-five-degree angle, casting dramatic shadows. In this shot, Eleanor wanted to reveal Grace’s sassy, independent soul. Fingers crossed she’d got it.
Studying Grace, it was clear where her granddaughter got some of her knockout features. “Alexa has your remarkable cheekbones,” Eleanor said, her heart rate picking up a bit at the thought of Alexa.
“Must be in our genes.” Grace smiled. “Although in this light, my wrinkles will look like the channels of a braided river plain.”
Eleanor laughed. “Trust me. You’ve hardly got any lines, and the ones you do have just give you character.”
“You know the right things to say to an old lady. My story is reflected in my face. And not all my stories are happy ones. A mother should never outlive her child.” Grace sighed, and as if sensing her sadness, Bruce slinked off the headrest and crawled onto her lap. Lost in thought, Grace stroked the
top of his head.
From a different perspective, Eleanor increased the aperture, using backlight to create a halo, isolating her subjects. Woman and her feline companion. The sublime qualities of both subjects were reflected in the image, showing the loving connection between these two kindred spirits.
Grace tickled the top of Bruce’s head and drew herself upright. “I was desolate, on a downward spiral, so angry Eloise was taken from us. But I’ve had to be brave. Alexa needs me. She has no one but me.”
On their train journey from Castlemaine, Alexa had encouraged Eleanor not to take her mother for granted. At the time, as Eleanor had been so irritated with her mother, she’d brushed the words aside. Later on, though, she’d recalled Alexa’s advice with gratitude. Her immediate family was not large, but she had Leo, her parents, and both grandmothers. Alexa was right; she was lucky.
Eleanor put her camera on the coffee table and went to stand beside Grace, murmuring softly, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Alexa and her grandmother had suffered so much, and yet they were both courageous. Eleanor leaned across and gently clasped Grace’s hand, hoping to give her some comfort.
Bruce stretched, resting his paw on Eleanor’s shirtsleeve.
“Bruce is usually a fusspot,” Grace said. “An anti-social fellow, but he seems to like you.”
Eleanor scratched the puss under his chin, increasing the volume of his purr. She beamed. One of these days she hoped to have her own home, a girlfriend, and a cat or two.
“My granddaughter seems to have taken a shine to you, also,” Grace added earnestly. “I’m glad you’re spending time with her.”
“Err…yes.” Eleanor’s cheeks flushed.
“When Alexa was here yesterday after work, she told me that your trip to the goldfields didn’t turn out how she’d expected.”
Eleanor rubbed her temples, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks again. What on earth had Alexa said?
“I worry about her driving that old jalopy.” Grace shook her head. “And you two were stuck in the cottage overnight together in that terrible storm.”
