Alexandra walked back into the Tianzifang homewares store. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out the same photo that was framed in the shop window. The friendly owners nearly fell off their Eames stools.

‘I don’t believe it,’ said the slightly built woman as she pulled on a pair of thick tortoiseshell frames and leaned over the counter for a closer inspection. ‘I’m Cynthia, by the way.’ She smiled and held out a hand. ‘And this is Lu, my husband.’ She gestured towards a hipster in a faded Neil Young t-shirt who scratched his beard and nodded shyly.

Cynthia explained: ‘We found the photos at the bottom of a box containing Lalique sconces and an old sixteen-millimetre camera when we bought this place, didn’t we, Lu?’

Alexandra tried to hide her disappointment that Cynthia and Lu didn’t seem to know the exact origin of the photo. Instead she said, ‘Great place you’ve set up here,’ as she traced the lines of the teak cabinet acting as the shop counter and counted the neat sets of square drawers with brass handles. Twenty-six—four rows. One hundred and four drawers. It was an odd piece.

Following her gaze, Cynthia explained, ‘This is a traditional medicine cabinet. This shop was a deceased estate. The guy who owned it was a political prisoner for many years after the war. When he was released, he opened this shop.’ She pointed to a faded shingle with some Chinese characters and, below, CHINESE MEDICINE written in English, along with a name: DR HO.

‘When we renovated the shop, we were after a romantic Old Shanghai feel, so we thought, why not use the old photos we found onsite?’ She turned to her husband. ‘There are some more photos at home, aren’t there, Lu?’

‘The Calendar Girls? All the photos have the same dreamy look with flowers or blossom trees in the background and an elegant woman posing in front. Just like the 1930s and 1940s Shanghai advertisements for soaps, cigarettes, beer…I actually took them to the framer this week.’

‘Sure. But there are some streetscapes. A few more of this girl…’ She tapped the Chinese girl’s head. ‘She’s cute enough here, but she grew up to be a real stunner.’

Lu raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement.

‘Do you have a photo of her grown up?’ asked Zhang. He turned to Alexandra. ‘I mean, if she knew your grandmother maybe we could ask her about—’ He stopped himself. ‘I’m sorry; it’s not my business.’

‘That’s fine.’ Alexandra found herself smiling at his interest. ‘I mean, if I can’t find out through the formal channels, maybe this girl—woman—could point me in the right direction.’ She waved the photo in the air.

Cynthia shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but she died a long time ago. Before her brother. There was a box of costumes, silk dresses, strands of pearls. Some newspaper articles and a stack of concert programs, plus paperwork like her identification pass and some family snaps. I couldn’t believe someone would leave these vintage clothes and furs to be eaten by moths—let alone the pearls! They were just shoved in the cupboard, for years…’

She reached out and ran her hand over a battered wooden mannequin wearing a pale blue chiffon dress with a drop waist encrusted with crystals and a large silk bow tied at the back. She lifted the skirt so it looked like a translucent fan and waved it about to catch the light. ‘This is one of the dresses we’ve had cleaned and repaired.’

‘It’s magnificent,’ said Alexandra reaching out to stroke the crystal beads. ‘It must have cost a fortune.’

‘Well, she was the most famous cabaret singer in Shanghai: Yu Baihe. Li Ho.’ Cynthia hesitated. ‘Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?’

‘Do you know if the man who owned the shop or his sister had any relatives? Children? It’s just they may have known my grandmother, if they were friends.’

‘I assume neither of them had any extended family. I mean, everything in this shop was sold as a job lot by the realtor. There were old receipts, the brother’s photos, those books on Chinese medicine…’ She pointed to some dusty books on a shelf. ‘It’s a pity we don’t have any of her stuff here. We’re having a big launch party soon, you see, and we’re having a lot of the original images scanned so we can make some big posters. It’s dress-up, of course. Old Shanghai.’

Zhang smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled. Alexandra imagined how handsome he’d look in a white tuxedo with a silk scarf.

‘You must come,’ Cynthia insisted. ‘It’s in August. Here’s the invitation.’ She handed over a card with a Calendar Girl in repose in front of a mountainscape, legs crossed and dressed in a maroon cheongsam with white peonies, shiny black hair pulled back into a bun with a red chrysanthemum tucked behind her ear. She had a demure smile.

‘She’s magic.’

‘She is. But you wait until you see your girl in the photo. The details are on the other side. Make sure you dress up!’

‘Sounds like I’m off to the tailor,’ joked Zhang.

Alexandra felt a tingle of excitement. Zhang was supposed to be back in Hong Kong by August. Would he come back for the party? ‘Thank you,’ replied Alexandra, handing her business card to Cynthia in return.

‘I’ll email if I find anything in the meantime,’ Cynthia promised. ‘Fingers crossed. I’m mean, what are the chances of you turning up with the same photo?’

Chances. As probabilities and numbers whirred in Alexandra’s head, she felt different. Usually, her starting point for all research was to build in factors for a worst-case scenario. Instead, she felt something light. Hope.

Cynthia was reaching over the counter to hug her now. ‘It’s a real-life mystery. See you next week, if not before.’

Lu waved at them and grinned. ‘Bye.’

‘Looking forward to it,’ said Zhang. ‘And now we have to finish Alexandra’s tour.’ He pressed a hand to the small of her back then removed it. Alexandra wished he’d let it linger there just a fraction longer.