Anna walked in slow circles around the hospital foyer. The reception desk was deserted and she was waiting for a nurse to appear so she could let them know she was here to visit her father. She liked the confident sound of her high heels on the terrazzo floor. She’d dressed up for this meeting in her smartest outfit, and spent extra time on her hair and make-up. She was hoping to distract Karl from his folio, drawing attention to herself instead.
As she passed the desk her eye was caught by a gleam of sunlight reflected on the gold lettering of the memorial plaque. The sight of the Lindenbaum name made her falter mid-step. She had been trying not to think about Eliza, but the questions she’d put aside flooded back. There was now a whole new set, on top of the ones prompted by the photograph in the darkroom. Why had Eliza been out in the storm last night, meeting a man in black who was carrying a gun? Why had he saluted her? And what was the secrecy surrounding the envelope she’d handed over? Whatever it contained was obviously personal, romantic: she’d kissed it before letting it go. But the American officer, Randall, was her boyfriend and she’d only just seen him. It made no sense. And Anna couldn’t help thinking the nighttime meeting was connected in some way with the photograph. The speculations just went round and round in her head.
Eliza hadn’t appeared for breakfast in the morning, so Anna had had no chance to talk to her – not that she’d have asked her any direct questions anyway. Marilyn had drummed into her daughter the importance of people knowing how to mind their own business. In some ways it had been easier for Anna to find herself alone at the dining table; she didn’t have to struggle to keep her curiosity at bay.
As Magadi poured coffee from a silver pot, he explained that Eliza had gone out to take some photographs. She’d left early, as soon as the wind had died down. The telephones weren’t working, apparently – the storm must have brought down a tree somewhere – but she had said she would arrange for a taxi driver to come to the house and take Anna to visit her father.
A car had appeared as promised – an old Renault with doors of different colours that looked out of place parked in the space usually occupied by the Jaguar. Anna had climbed in cautiously, sitting on a seat with the springs exposed. Black smoke trailed behind the car as it rattled along the road into the town. Struggling up the Avenue of Storms, the engine revved loudly as if the gears were not functioning properly. Even with the slow trip, Anna had arrived at the hospital ten minutes before visiting hours started. Now, as she paced steadily up and down, she checked the time on her watch. She’d been here over half an hour – and it had felt much longer than that. It came to her, suddenly, that Eliza would not be standing here meekly like this, just waiting. After hesitating for a second, she turned on her heels and set off up the corridor on her own.
Hurrying past the shared ward, she noticed one of the patients sitting up in bed. The young woman bent her head over a breakfast tray as she nibbled at a triangle of toast. The only clue as to why she was here was a bandage on her left arm. It looked so neat and white it was hard to imagine that a wound of some kind lay beneath.
Anna was just nearing the door to Karl’s ward when she heard hasty footsteps behind her.
‘Mademoiselle Emerson!’
Anna recognised Nurse Jansen’s voice but didn’t turn around.
‘Please wait!’ the nurse called out. ‘You can’t go in there.’
Anna opened the door. It was visiting time; she was entitled to be here, even if she had come without an escort. Two steps into the room, she stopped still, staring at the bed. The green sheet was pulled up, completely covering Karl’s body – even his face was hidden. For a second, she made no sense of what she saw. Then shock flashed through her like an electric current.
Jansen came up behind her. ‘I’m so sorry. We couldn’t phone you. The lines are out of order.’
Anna walked over to the bed. Her legs were weak, her heart pounding. The shrouded figure was completely still, the chest no longer rising and falling. The drip line hung loose, draping the floor.
‘We’ve just sent a driver with a message.’
Anna turned round, shaking her head in confusion. ‘What happened?’
Jansen stood there, biting her lips, her hands clasped together. She seemed unsure how to respond to the young woman in front of her. In the end, she took a matter-of-fact tone. ‘He passed away during the night. At two o’clock he appeared to be fine but when the changeover took place at six, he had gone.’
‘But he seemed all right yesterday. He got overtired, but I didn’t think he was in danger.’
‘Neither did we,’ Jansen said. ‘He had that turn, but he recovered. He ate his dinner last night. I fed him myself.’ Distress broke through her professional facade. ‘You poor girl – seeing him like this, with no warning. They should have stopped you in reception. I’m just so sorry.’
Anna turned back to the bed. Karl was there, under the sheet, she told herself. He was dead. But it didn’t feel real. She jumped at the touch of Jansen’s hand coming to rest on her shoulder.
‘I have seen this happen before. Sometimes a patient who is terminally ill chooses the time when they will depart.’ The nurse’s voice was gentle, but held an edge of certainty. ‘Your father was waiting for you to arrive, and then you came. It brought him some peace. He was ready to go.’
Anna shook her head. How could he be ready to go? Their time together had only just begun.
‘Do you want to sit with him?’
Instead of answering, Anna pulled the chair back to its place beside the bed and sat down.
‘There’s a nurse’s call button over here, if you need anything.’ Jansen pointed to a panel on the wall.
Anna nodded without looking away from the bed. She was aware of the nurse hovering as if reluctant to leave her alone.
‘We didn’t get the priest for your father,’ Jansen added. ‘He wrote “atheist” on his form. But we do have a chapel if you want to pray.’
‘Pray?’ Anna had the mad thought that there was still some way for Karl to be saved.
‘For his soul,’ Jansen said gently. ‘Who knows, maybe he turned to God at the end.’
As the nurse left the room Anna bent her head, closing her eyes. She felt numb with shock. She could feel the deep stillness of the body in front of her. It seemed to spread into the room, making it hard for her to breathe.
Her hands clenched, futile. He was gone. It was all over. The long journey she had made ended here.
When the taxi reached the house, Magadi was waiting outside. Anna could tell by the look on his face that he already knew what had happened. He helped her climb out of the taxi, steadying her as she almost tripped.
While he paid the driver, Anna stood on the steps, hugging Karl’s folio to her chest. She’d taken it from the cupboard before leaving the hospital. She had picked up the leopardskin slippers as well. She wasn’t even sure why she’d done this. It just felt better than leaving them behind on the floor. Jansen had promised that the framed photographs and all Karl’s other possessions would be sent to the Lindenbaum residence.
As the taxi drove away Magadi came to stand in front of her. ‘I am sorry for your pain,’ he said simply.
‘Thank you.’
‘Mademoiselle Eliza has not yet returned.’ Magadi guided Anna inside, then led her upstairs. ‘I will tell her the news as soon as she arrives.’
He lingered in the doorway to her room, looking unsure – as Jansen had been – whether to leave her alone. ‘Can I do something for you?’
Anna had the feeling he was offering more than just the option of a drink or perhaps some clean handkerchiefs. She saw how the years had worn deep lines into his skin. Looking into his dark eyes she sensed a time-earned wisdom.
‘I don’t know . . .’ Anna swallowed a lump in her throat. ‘It’s just that . . .’ She gazed up at the ceiling. A spider was bundling up an insect in its web, rolling it over and over. ‘I should be sad for him. But all I can think of is me. I came here to get to know him. And now I’ve got nothing to take away.’
She watched Magadi’s face as he took in her callous words. He didn’t seem shocked by her selfishness. Of course, he knew Karl Emerson: the man had often stayed here with the Rousseaus. No doubt Magadi had the same poor opinion of him as everyone else. Perhaps he understood, then, the true nature of Anna’s loss. She would never be able to make sense of her history with Karl. She would never have the chance to find out if there was another side to him. Her dream of having a father to love and admire had been shattered.
Magadi’s figure became blurred as tears filled her eyes. She bent her head, covering her face with her hands.
‘Do not hide your tears.’ The man’s voice came to her as if from far away. ‘A child has only one father.’
Anna sat on her bed, staring down at the insignia on the folio and then at the spotted slippers she’d placed on the floor at her feet. Her body felt frozen but her thoughts paced restlessly. She wondered what was going to happen now. Would she have to arrange a funeral? And what about the art collection? The Emerson Trust? Nurse Jansen, trying to be helpful, had told Anna as she was leaving that there was a lawyer who handled Monsieur Emerson’s affairs. He paid the hospital bills and sent a bunch of flowers for the room each week. The hospital would contact him as soon as the phone lines were working again. Jansen gave Anna the lawyer’s phone number, in case she had any questions to ask. Anna had eyed her in silence. She had lots of questions to ask, but she doubted this lawyer would be able to answer any of them.
Standing up, Anna crossed to the window. She undid the catch and swung it open. Hot air rushed in, carrying a muddy, leafy smell – the aftermath of the storm. She looked out over the lake, where fishing boats floated on water that was now smooth as glass. She let the image fill her mind, driving out thoughts of the hospital with its hushed corridors, the shrouded body on the bed . . . In the far distance, way across the lake, she could see the blurry shape of land. It was a completely different country, she knew. She’d seen it marked on a map in Eliza’s sitting room. The name Tanganyika had been crossed out with blue ink, replaced with Tanzania. The territory stretched from the edge of the lake to the east coast of Africa.
And far away, across the vast Indian Ocean, was Australia. Melbourne.
Anna thought of her flat, empty and quiet; a layer of dust gathering on the furniture. She pictured her desk in the office, with a temporary secretary sitting at her typewriter. She hoped Mr Williams was being looked after properly, although not so well that he wasn’t looking forward to her return. She thought of the secretaries meeting for their last-Friday-of-the-month drink after work. Had she been missed, she wondered? Or had the space she’d once filled just closed up behind her? The questions seemed so simple, and her daily life predictable and stable, compared with what surrounded her here.
She turned away from the window, glancing at her possessions spread around the room. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to put everything back in her suitcase and return to her own world as soon as possible.
A zebra tore at a rose bush, pulling back rubbery lips to avoid the thorns before it plucked a pink flower with its teeth. Anna wondered if she should shoo it away, but then decided to let it be. She was sitting on the front steps of the house, and the effort of getting to her feet felt too much: the knowledge of Karl’s death seemed to have settled in her body like lead. She gazed along the driveway with bleary eyes, willing the Jaguar to appear. She longed for Eliza to be here. The urgency she felt reminded her of how, as a little girl, she would run to find her mother when something had gone wrong. It made no difference how Marilyn responded; just the act of sharing her emotions brought relief. Even though Eliza didn’t like Karl, Anna felt sure she’d be sympathetic, as she had been the day before. It was still only mid-morning, but Anna wouldn’t be surprised if she ordered strong cocktails for them both.
At last, the Jaguar appeared, a white shape gliding along the driveway. As the car came to a halt at the bottom of the steps, the sun glinted on the emblem mounted on the bonnet – the sleek shape of the big cat poised, ready to pounce. Eliza emerged from the driver’s side, holding a gift-wrapped box in her hand.
As she approached Anna, she took off her sunglasses and raised her eyebrows questioningly.
‘Karl’s dead,’ Anna said. ‘I’m going home.’
Her voice was steady, but as soon as the words were out, tears welled in her eyes. All the optimism she’d felt about going home, putting the whole episode in the Congo behind her, evaporated. She was left stranded in a wasteland of pain and disappointment.
Eliza hurried up to her, dropping the gift onto the steps, then pushing it aside with the pointed toe of her shoe. She spread her arms, bangles jingling as they gathered at her wrists. ‘Come here.’
As Eliza drew her into an embrace, Anna buried her face against the older woman’s chest, breathing in a musky perfume and the aroma of cigar smoke. She wrapped her arms around Eliza’s back, holding her slender form close. Eliza hugged her more tightly. Even in the midst of her distress Anna felt a flicker of surprise. As she clasped Eliza, she had the sense that Eliza was clinging to her as well.
When Anna’s tears finally eased, she pulled back. Eliza wiped her face with a clean linen handkerchief. When it was soaked, she produced another from her handbag, as if to signal that there was no need to stem the tears. Her own eyes were wet, mascara smudging her cheeks.
Leaving the gift behind on the ground, Eliza walked Anna inside, leading her to the sitting room. She called Magadi and requested he serve whisky and ice.
‘And bring one of the cats,’ she said. ‘Whoever you can find.’
Within a few minutes Magadi delivered a large Siamese, creamy white with dark legs, tail and face. He held it out like an offering that could have been served on a tray. Anna had seen the cat before, prowling in the garden, looking half-wild. Now the creature was drowsy with sleep.
‘This is Zelda.’ Eliza placed her in Anna’s lap. The cat settled there, closing her blue eyes, resting her chin on her paws.
Anna thought Eliza was going to leave her now – with the cat a replacement for her comforting presence. She probably had work to do in her darkroom: films to develop or pictures to print. Instead, Eliza just sat there, ice clinking as she sipped from her glass. The steady rhythm of Zelda’s purring seemed to wrap itself around the two women, drawing them together. The soft tick of a carriage clock on the mantelpiece only added to the atmosphere of peace and closeness. It was hard for Anna to believe that she and Eliza had only known one another for a few days – and that very soon, they would say their last goodbyes.