Memories of May

by Juliet Madison

  How correct she was, but she was looking at the wrong person.

  ‘Perhaps,’ I said.

  ‘May, how is that novel you’ve been reading?’ Jacques asked.

  ‘Oh, yes. Ah, it’s quite good I suppose.’ The truth was, I hadn’t read any the last couple of nights. Hadn’t needed to. My life was becoming more interesting.

  Though I had grown quite comfortable around the Chevaliers, conversation that evening was strained. There was an undercurrent of forced connection, and although I liked Jacques, I didn’t like feeling forced or required to interact a certain way. And it only made me want to run … run to where I felt natural and free, and that I did, when I retired to my room and crept out the window yet again.

  ‘May,’ William said, devouring me with his arms, sprinkling kisses on my face as I met him at the lookout. ‘Let’s go down to the harbour, for your surprise.’

  ‘What’s in there?’ I asked, pointing to the satchel.

  He smiled. ‘You’ll see.’

  We sat on a park bench near the harbour, sheltered behind a stone wall that minimised the night breeze, and any observers.

  He pulled out a large notepad from his satchel. And then some charcoal. ‘I want to draw your portrait.’

  My eyes went wide. ‘Draw? I didn’t know you could draw!’

  ‘I mostly do it at home for my own amusement, but the other day, I was drawing at the store when it was quiet and a customer liked what they saw—asked me to draw their portrait for a nice sum of money!’ He gripped my forearm. ‘Oh, May, if one person wants my services, then perhaps more will. This could be the perfect career for me, and one that wouldn’t require me to stay put in a town going nowhere.’ His words were laced with passion and oozed enthusiasm.

  ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Well, hurry up mister, show me what you’re made of!’ I crossed one leg over the other and held my knees with clasped hands, straightening my spine and putting an accomplished smile on my face. ‘How long do I have to stay still for?’

  ‘Until I do this.’ He took my cheeks with his hands and encouraged my lips to his. It was heaven, pure, magical heaven. My body softened at his hold and I surrendered, until he pulled away and got his paper ready. ‘Okay, Miss May, let’s do this.’

  I kept giggling and trying to peek. He kept holding the drawing up momentarily to his chest and saying, ‘Uh-uh, patience, Miss May, patience.’

  But he was quick. Really quick. And as I discovered when he finally showed me his creation, his drawings were both accurate and organic, with a confronting rawness and intensity that made them come alive on the paper. It wasn’t a rigid, perfect, presentable portrait, but a unique and bold representation of the true nature of a person’s face. Somehow, he had captured parts of my face and expression I hadn’t ever taken notice of and yet I recognised as uniquely me.

  ‘I’m … I’m amazed,’ I said. ‘Words don’t do it justice.’

  ‘And a drawing does not do your beauty justice,’ he replied. Then he chuckled. ‘That was so very pathetic, wasn’t it? Like something they’d say in a romantic film full of clichés and unrealistic ideals.’

  ‘I like pathetic. Your version of it at least. And I like romantic films and unrealistic ideals, thank you very much.’ I crossed my arms but smiled.

  ‘What we have here, between us, seems so real yet also unrealistic, does it not? As though it does not fit into this small world here and requires some far-off magical land of equivalent beauty and intensity.’

  I wondered where such places existed. Tarrin’s Bay was charming and beautiful, but there was a sense of sameness to it. I loved it, and yet I also had an urge to explore somewhere new.

  I accepted the drawing from William and smiled. ‘This … whatever this is, is so very real to me.’ And I leaned forward and kissed him, in a way that showed him exactly how real this romance was.

  ‘Oh, Grandma, do you still have the portrait?’ Olivia was literally on the edge of her seat.

  ‘Oh golly, I haven’t seen that thing for years. I kept it as a memento of him, but after the years passed, it became less important and it must have been put away somewhere. Jacques saw it once and asked about it. I told him I’d had my portrait drawn by a wanderer, a travelling artist. Which was the truth, really.’

  ‘I would love to see it. Anyway, I can have a better look through those boxes of your old things you gave Mum and me, sometime.’

  ‘Of course, dear. But no need to show me if you do, I have it ingrained up here.’ She tapped her head. ‘The only thing we can take with us to wherever it is I’m going. Our memories.’

  Olivia gave a resigned nod. Talking to her grandma and hearing her stories was so enlivening, it made her forget time was running out, that soon she would not be able to tell any more stories. And all that would be left for Olivia would be her memories, of her grandma, of May.

  ‘Do you need to rest now? Shall we leave you to it?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘But don’t you want to know what happens in the next chapter, my dear?’

  Olivia turned to check Mia, who was happily humming, her earphones in, her hand holding a pencil and drawing as though she had all the time in the world. ‘Of course I do, but only if you’re up to it.’

  ‘Oh, I will probably never be up for anything much except rambling on about my life, so I might as well make the most of it.’ She patted Olivia’s hand. ‘Besides, the next two weeks were some of the best days of my life. But I won’t go into details, all you need to know is what happened that night I saw my very first shooting star.’

  ‘Oh, wow, I’ve never seen one of those.’

  ‘I do not believe they occur by accident, darling Olivia. Should you ever see one, they are there for a reason.

  ‘Did you see it from Lookout Point?’

  A soft smile teased Mrs May’s lips. ‘Yes. So beautiful but so fleeting. And the catalyst for what William did next.’

  * * *

  May’s memories, of shooting stars …

  The letters continued over the next couple of weeks, but not as often as our meetings, which had become even more beautiful than the letters.

  He didn’t limit himself to writing his words; he would also speak them. Whatever popped into his mind, or his heart. Sometimes we would simply stay at Lookout Point, other times we would go for walks, down to the beach, along the harbour, and along the coastal track between Lookout Point and the Tarrin rock formation. Time flew, but it also seemed to freeze, it was a strange, beautiful thing.

  One night, while walking along the beach, the sand cool beneath our toes, the sky clear and the ocean calm, a quick flash shot through the sky. ‘Look!’ He pointed. We stopped.

  ‘Oh my,’ I said. ‘Is that …’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘A shooting star.’

  I glanced at his face as he stared in awe. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He chuckled, then turned to face me, enveloping me in his arms. ‘And just what I was looking for.’

  I looked up into his diamond eyes. ‘You were looking for a shooting star?’

  ‘No. A sign. And I got it.’ He grinned.

  ‘A sign? For what?’

  He took my hand and we resumed walking. ‘That I would know I’m doing the right thing.’ He swung my arm back and forth, and it was as though I could feel his energy buzzing through me. We stopped again, and he faced me. ‘I’m going to leave Tarrin’s Bay,’ he said, and my jaw dropped. I knew he wanted to explore the world, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.

  ‘Leave, what, now?’

  ‘Oh yes, My darling May. Well, in one week. I’ve been saving up, and I will bring my art supplies to make money from doing travelling portraits.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘And I want you to come with me. Come with me, May.’

  His eyes were unblinking, looking straight into my heart. It started beating fast.

  ‘But … in one week? I … I …’ Conflicting thoughts swished through my mind, back and forth. ‘I don’t
think I can just leave, I mean, I have my mother, and I should be helping her as Father looks for a new house we can afford to live in, and the Chevaliers have been so good to us, and I have my sewing clients, I have curtains I need to make in a week or two for the Pattersons’ home redecorating, and …’

  And I couldn’t just leave.

  ‘That’s all just … stuff,’ he said. ‘What we have is real, powerful, one of a kind.’

  ‘I agree, but maybe we should keep things the way they are for now, while everything is good.’

  ‘I love all of this,’ he said. ‘But my feet are itching to move forward. To discover new places, walk on new ground, instead of repeating the same thing, day in day out.’ He caressed my cheek with his palm. ‘I would love nothing more than to have an adventure with you.’

  My eyes closed for a moment, savouring the soft firmness of his hand and the warmth of his skin. This. This was so good. Us. Together. I wanted nothing more than for that too.

  I opened my eyes. But wouldn’t that be selfish? And what would I do, how could I make my own way? I didn’t own much, after the fire, so I would only need a small supply of clothing and essentials, and my sewing kit if I were to find some simple work along the way.

  ‘We can fish, we can go fruit picking, we can find our way,’ he said. ‘Live off the land, see where it takes us.’

  ‘And then what?’ I asked. ‘We couldn’t go on like that forever.’

  ‘We could stop and start. Settle for a while somewhere nice, move on when it feels right. Let our intuition guide us. Maybe we would find someplace else we loved and stay put, who knows. All I know is that right now, I can’t stay.’

  ‘And if I didn’t come with you?’ Would he really leave without me, leave what we had? I stepped away from him.

  ‘Oh, May. But I know your heart. I know where it longs to be.’

  With you, I thought. With you.

  ‘And that is all that matters.’

  ‘But my family.’

  ‘You can always come back and visit. We wouldn’t be disappearing without a trace.’

  But I knew they would not let me leave if I were to tell them my plans. If I went, it would have to be in secret.

  ‘My aunt and uncle know I plan to travel. They are happy for me to go. I even have my uncle’s old automobile I helped him restore. I’m all set. Maybe it’s easier for me to leave, I have fewer responsibilities than you. But you’re a grown woman now, May. This is your time to live the life you want.’

  It sounded so good. Perhaps I could bring a couple of books and do readings for people as a form of travelling entertainment? Or children’s books … I could do storytelling sessions in different towns. Ideas roamed my mind at the possibilities.

  ‘I … I need time to think,’ I said.

  ‘Of course.’ He kissed my forehead. ‘I don’t want to rush you. I just know what I want, and I want it with you.’

  We met up again the next three nights, and each goodbye kiss, although wonderful, was filled with uncertainty. On Wednesday night, he kissed me with such intensity and promise I thought I might forget my own name. It was like the kiss was either our last one, or the first one, and he wanted to imbue it with everything he felt, everything we had shared, in one perfect moment.

  The next day, I received a letter …

  My Memorable May,

  It is time. I know you still haven’t decided, but it is time. I will be leaving on Saturday at noon. Meet me at Lookout Point then, and bring whatever you will need. I have money, enough to last a while until I do some more drawings.

  I am so excited. It will be amazing and fabulous. Life is for living and I plan to live it, and you are the only person I want by my side.

  If you don’t show up, I will assume you have decided to stay. And though I’ll be heartbroken, I will understand. But all I can do is trust that your heart knows the way, and I will meet it. I will welcome you with open arms into my embrace, my life, and our future.

  So I will not meet you tonight, or tomorrow night, I will only see you then.

  With all my love, and the promise of an adventure you will never forget.

  William.

  ‘Grandma, are you okay?’ Olivia handed Mrs May a cup of water as she covered her mouth with a coughing fit.

  She went to sip but then the cough resumed.

  ‘I’m okay, I just …’ She coughed. ‘All this talking, my throat’s a bit strained.’

  She left the cup beside her and patted her back. ‘Should I get a nurse?’

  As if they heard her question, Sam, one of the nurses came in. ‘Waking me up from my nap, I hear,’ she said. She checked her grandma’s handkerchief, her temperature, and then her pulse and blood pressure. ‘Hmm, nothing too much to be concerned with here. Talking too much, I’m guessing.’ She winked.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she managed, the coughing dying down. ‘But I’ll be alright.’

  Mia had unplugged her earphones and looked concerned. ‘It’s okay, Mrs May is fine,’ Olivia said. She stood. ‘Come on, we must let our favourite lady get her beauty sleep.’

  ‘Sweetheart, after ninety years, let me tell you, there is no such thing as beauty sleep.’

  Olivia chuckled.

  ‘I’ve tried it, and I still got old.’

  The nurse was right, there was nothing much to be concerned with. But the talking was fatiguing her and straining her throat.

  ‘Thanks for sharing more of your story,’ Olivia said. ‘When you’re up to it, I’ll come back for the rest.’ She was dying to know what happened that Saturday at noon. Did she meet him and tell him she couldn’t go, and they had a teary farewell? Did she simply not turn up, or did she go with him for a short while and then returned to Tarrin’s Bay? Olivia had no idea.

  Mrs May nodded, her eyes drooping. ‘Anytime, dear. Anytime. But first, my non-beauty sleep.’ She smiled.

  Olivia captured the memory of her grandma’s smile in her mind, just in case. Every time she walked out of this room, she didn’t know if that would be the last time she ever saw her alive.

  Chapter 21

  Joel had had a busy and fulfilling week, with his two classes, some exercise and outdoor exploration, a conference call with his publishing team, his Friday lunch with Olivia that turned into an afternoon of work on his laptop after she went back to work, followed by a couple of drinks at the pub. But he was glad it was Saturday afternoon, he had been looking forward to this day for a while.

  He parked a little further up the street from her house. He was early, which was on purpose as then she wouldn’t be looking out the window waiting for him. He scrawled on the piece of paper: Welcome to your treasure hunt.

  Clue number 1: There is a silver car just down from your house. There is a man in it. Get in the car. PS—you can trust him, his name is Joel. Clue number 2 will be waiting for you there.

  He peered around the tree to her front porch, then quickly and quietly went up and placed the note on the doormat. He knocked on the door then dashed off and back to his car. He laughed, like a little kid doing knock and runs.

  A few minutes passed, so he assumed she wasn’t ready. Then her trying-not-to-smile face came into view as she walked around the corner tree and approached his car. She knocked on the window and he rolled it down. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Apparently I’m supposed to get in this car with some strange man. Would that be you?’

  ‘It would.’ He popped open the lock and gave the door a shove.

  She opened it and got in. ‘My, what a gentleman you are, opening the door for me from the inside.’ She placed her handbag on the floor.

  ‘It’s a treasure hunt, not an old-fashioned date.’

  ‘So I see.’ She flapped the paper about. ‘So, where is clue number two?’

  He lifted the corner of his mouth into a smug grin. ‘It’s written on my torso.’ He eyed his top, as though she would have to lift it up. Okay, so it was a bit of an immature flirty guy thing, but he wanted to see her reaction. It
would probably be all, ‘Oh, Joel, if you think I am going to lift up your shirt and just—’

  ‘Well, strip off then,’ she said. ‘I don’t have all day.’

  What? He couldn’t help his mouth from dropping open a tad.

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ she reached forward and grabbed his shirt, and before he could object she lifted it up. ‘Where’s the clue? I don’t see anything.’

  ‘I lied,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to see what you would do.’

  She removed her hands and leaned back. ‘Just wanted to show off your impressive torso, huh? And perhaps your ego too?’

  ‘Oh, so you do think it’s impressive then?’ he joked. ‘Nah, seriously, I didn’t think you would do that. If I’d known, maybe I would have written the clue on my torso. Oh well.’ He shrugged.

  She shook her head. ‘Men,’ she mumbled.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Nothing. Where’s this clue?’

  He pointed to the top of the dashboard. She picked up the piece of paper and read it out loud: ‘Take the first CD from the glove box and place it in the CD player. Your driver is awaiting your instructions on where to drive to.’ She opened the glove box. ‘How will I know where I’m supposed to go?’

  ‘Just listen,’ he said.

  She put the CD with no label on and waited …

  Music started and her face showed no signs of recognition. As he expected. It was an old, daggy song. The lyrics began and she angled her ear towards the sound. ‘What kind of song is this?’ He kept quiet as the chorus came on. When the main lyrics repeated, she said, ‘Moving forward … energy … okay, clearly we have to drive. I get that, but …’ She listened more carefully. ‘You’re my energy? You keep me moving …’ She scrunched up her face, it was utterly adorable. ‘Do you want me to drive or something? Like, I’m the energy that keeps you moving?’

  He chuckled and shook his head.

  ‘My power … my fuel … my … oh! Fuel? We need fuel, petrol? But that doesn’t tell me where we are actually going.’

  ‘Then let’s go get fuel and see what happens from there.’ He started the engine.

  ‘Can we turn the song off now, it’s pretty bad,’ she said.