Chapter 17

Beth

On my drive to work, I tried hard to refocus on the busy day ahead. First up was a meeting with representatives from the state’s environment agency and a local Aboriginal land council, to talk about joint management of a tract of bush.

I walked into the meeting room and selected a chair to Geoff’s left.

‘Good morning. How’s things? How’s your day going?’ he asked. I had noticed he’d been a little more attentive since my early finish the other day, which I assumed meant he thought I did have a job interview.

‘Good thanks,’ I said as I sat down and poised my pen above my notebook, ready to take notes. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this meeting. This is a special patch of bush.’

The area provided the setting for many older residents’ memories of the good ol’ days, when they’d spent from sunrise to sunset building forts and climbing trees. Today, people cherished it as one of the last remaining natural areas for miles. The bush also offered refuge to some endearing native animals, such as the honey possum and quenda. And a couple of western grey kangaroos persisted there despite all the odds.

Most importantly, the area had particular significance to First Nations peoples, as it contained a number of plant species that were used for bush medicine. These meetings were an important part of ensuring that the Traditional Owners were central in conserving this natural apothecary. But, as hard as I tried to focus on the numerous ‘action items’ being captured and promises made to ‘circle back’, my mind kept wandering to thoughts of Gran and whether she’d heard from Gerry.

‘Oh, hi there,’ Alannah said, looking up from their screen when I returned to my desk after the meeting. ‘You’re popular today.’

‘What do you mean?’

I had never in my life been described as popular.

‘Your phone has been buzzing nonstop for the last hour.’

‘Oh, sorry.’ I launched my hand into my bag to retrieve it. I loathed it when unattended phones buzzed away or, worse, rang, in open-plan workplaces.

‘It’s fine. It was a nice distraction from having to listen to that lot dissecting last night’s episode of Married at First Sight.’ Alannah nodded their head towards the group of twenty-somethings from the events management team, who were huddled over a screen trawling through a gossip news site, whispering and giggling.

I tapped on my phone to illuminate the display and gasped. There were sixteen missed calls from Gran.

‘Everything okay?’ Alannah asked.

‘I hope so,’ I said. I hurried outside and hit redial. Gran answered after the first ring.

‘You took your time,’ she huffed mockingly down the line.

‘Sorry, Gran. What’s wrong?’ I asked, slightly breathless from the worry that something terrible had happened and from the exertion of dashing outside.

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she laughed. ‘In fact, everything’s great.’

‘I take it you heard from Gerry, then,’ I said, my breath rate calming.

‘I sure did.’

‘So?’ I probed. ‘What did she say? Did she sound the same as you remembered?’

‘More or less,’ Gran replied pensively. ‘A little more … mature, perhaps. But her voice was still as lovely as ever. I always loved the way she said my name. Elise. Elise. Elise.’ Gran repeated her name in a plum English accent, emphasising different syllables each time as she experimented with the sound.

‘What did the two of you talk about?’ I asked.

‘Oh, you know,’ she said coyly. ‘This and that.’

I hmphed down the line. Normally I wouldn’t dream of probing for information from someone who was clearly not willing to share. I hated when Jarrah pressured me for what she irritatingly referred to as ‘the 411’. But this felt different; I felt completely invested.

‘We’re speaking again tonight.’

‘It must have gone well, then,’ I said. Geoff appeared at the doorway and nodded to indicate he wanted to speak to me. ‘I have to get back inside for another meeting, but give me a call tonight after you’ve spoken to her.’

‘I will, pet. Wish me luck.’

~

That night, after I had washed up from dinner, folded my clean washing and selected my outfit for the next day, I settled down on the couch with my phone close by.

I watched a documentary about a woman advocating for better food labelling regulations in hospitality venues after her son suffered a fatal allergic reaction. Then I sat through a debate between a conservative white male politician and a drag queen about the need to invest in the arts. I started a detective show set in a tiny English county with a worrying rate of crime per capita, but I must have dozed off before the handsome cop figured out whether the priest had been murdered by the loyal parishioner or the creepy publican. I started awake when my phone chimed with a message from Gran.

It’s late. I’ll call you tomorrow. It went well. xx

I typed a reply: I’m so glad, Gran. I can’t wait to hear all about it. x

Another message quickly followed with a smiley face emoji.

I smiled broadly at my phone, aware of the lunacy of grinning at an inanimate object. I then checked the doors, turned out the lights, changed into my pyjama shorts and top, brushed my teeth and slipped into bed.

The sheets were cool against my bare legs. On nights like this, when it was crisp but not quite cold enough to use the flannel sheets or my winter pyjamas, I had to admit it might be nice to climb into the bed with someone else. It also might have been nice to have someone to debrief with about what a big week it had been.

The next morning, I set off for work ten minutes ahead of schedule. I planned to call Gran from the road and wanted to allow for extra time to hear how it had gone with Gerry.

I was enjoying the modern conveniences of my new car. Beyond being able to get in and out without performing a yoga manoeuvre, I was enjoying the radio that played AM and FM, the connectivity with my phone, and the ease of opening and closing the windows with the touch of a button.

‘Hello, darling.’ Gran’s voice filled the space of my new car via bluetooth.

‘Sooooooo?’ I wasted no time on pleasantries. ‘How did it go?’

‘Oh, love,’ she sighed euphorically. ‘It was wonderful. We spoke for hours and hours. And I’m sure we could have spoken for many more.’

‘You do have sixty years to catch up on.’

‘Indeed,’ she chuckled.

‘Has she changed much?’

‘Yes and no,’ Gran replied thoughtfully. ‘It sounds cliché, but it feels like no time has passed, and yet like I’m getting to know someone for the first time. She still has a lightning-quick wit, and she’s incredibly clever and accomplished, so nothing’s changed there. But her rosy view of the world has tarnished. She carries scars from navigating a world that hasn’t always been willing to accept her.’

Gran paused before continuing in a more upbeat tone. ‘But she’s fit and healthy, and she’s led a full and rewarding life, which is all any of us can ask for.’

‘Did you find out what happened to her after she returned to the UK?’ I asked.

‘No. I didn’t want to get into it when there was so much else to catch up on,’ she said. ‘It didn’t feel like the right time. And I’m still not really sure I want to know.’

Gran explained that Gerry had become the eminent authority on English vascular plants and had enjoyed a long and illustrious career with the University of New London. Her work with plant fossils had been revolutionary and had earned her widespread accolades.

Gerry told Gran that as well as providing her with immense personal satisfaction, her career had also offered a socially acceptable justification for why she hadn’t married or had children. Her unwavering dedication to her work was more readily accepted than her sexual preference for women, apparently. She also shared that she had enjoyed love in her life, including for many years with an internationally known thespian whose name Gran was ‘not at liberty to share’.

‘We’ve got a date to speak again tonight, too,’ Gran finished as I pulled into my office’s car park.

‘Wow!’

I shut off the engine, gathered my things and began the walk to my office.

‘Sweetie, at our age, there really is no time like the present,’ she said, obviously sensing my surprise that they were speaking again so soon.

‘Fair enough. Well, keep me posted.’

‘I will, pet,’ she replied. ‘And thank you again.’

‘Morning,’ Alannah said when I arrived at my desk, gesturing to the phone that was still in my hand. ‘Was that my favourite drug dealer?’

I laughed. ‘Yes, it was. She’s just reconnected with someone she’d lost touch with years ago, and she was keen to tell me about it.’

‘That’s nice,’ they said, looking back towards their screen. ‘It’s so nice that you’re close to your gran. I really miss both of mine.’

Alannah’s maternal grandmother had passed away last year, six months after their mother had succumbed to cancer. They said what upset them most was knowing how much fun the two of them would be having ‘upstairs’ without her. Their family was Irish, and the tales of family gatherings were legendary.

‘Just make sure you make the most of her while you’ve got her. She won’t be around forever,’ they said tenderly.

Alannah was right.

This whole business with Gerry had started because I wanted to use my lotto winnings to make Gran happy. Admittedly, this had catapulted us both on a journey I did not anticipate. But sixty years after they had been separated by a chasm of distance – geographic and sociopolitical – they had the opportunity to cross the abyss and reunite properly. And I had the means to make it happen.

I picked up my phone and hastily typed a message to Gran.

Is your passport valid?

I waited as three dots danced on the screen.

Yes. What have you got in mind?