Memories of May Read online

  She put the book down under the counter to serve a customer who was buying a copy of the same book, plus a novel. When the customer left, Olivia went to the storeroom to collect something from her bag, then placed it on the counter.

  ‘What’s that?’ Marcus asked, pointing to the glass jar.

  ‘A memory jar. I’m going to encourage customers to write down one of their favourite memories anonymously on a bit of paper, fold it up and place it in the jar. Then when I eventually finish and publish Mrs May’s book, we can have a book launch here and one of the novelty activities could be that we pass the jar around and people read out a random memory.’

  Marcus’s mouth opened. ‘Wow! That is awesome. And wow, you do think and plan far ahead, don’t you.’

  ‘The idea came to me in the middle of the night.’

  ‘As all good ideas do,’ he said. ‘I had a good idea to get up in the middle of the night and have half a tub of ice-cream once. Regretted it the next morning, I must say.’

  Olivia smiled. ‘Anyway, if you like, feel free to add a memory or two of your own. I’m going to add one about Mia telling me she loved me the other day, it was so cute.’

  Marcus picked up a pen. ‘I could fill the whole jar. But I better let some others get theirs in. And I better only put in the PG rated ones.’

  ‘Yes, I think we’ll make that a rule. PG memories only.’ She winked.

  ‘How’s the book coming along?’

  Olivia tidied the counter as she spoke. ‘Not bad, putting things in order, writing some of the chapters late at night. Listening to the recordings of my grandma’s memories. I’m really enjoying it.’

  ‘Glad to hear.’

  She was also enjoying her occasional texts with Joel about random things. He would send her ideas for her list, and crazy pictures of people skydiving and bungy jumping and skinny-dipping. She freaked him out in return by sending him some photos she’d found on the internet of men wearing crochet underwear, adding the text: These might keep you warm on your adventures. She also thought that might count as flirting, since it was about underwear. Even if they were God-awful revolting crochet abominations that had compartments for various body parts and could not be unseen.

  When he’d replied and said: Though they are tempting, my Bonds underwear will do me just fine, thank you, she’d gotten a little flutter in her belly. Was he flirting? Or being funny? Either way, it made her giggle like when she’d made the pancake shape.

  And now in tonight’s class, she would no doubt either imagine him in his Bonds underwear, or heaven forbid, the crochet things. And those sorts of things were best left to the private memory jar of one’s mind.

  * * *

  ‘And that, my friends, is what makes a killer opening. Pardon the pun.’ Joel turned off the PowerPoint presentation that evening after his second class, which focused on story structure, particularly the importance of those vital opening pages. ‘I look forward to reading your opening page or two, send them to me when they’re done and we’ll workshop them in class.’

  ‘Mine’s already done, do you want it now?’ asked Dylan. ‘And it’s definitely a killer opening. An almost killer opening. Hence, I’m here to tell the tale.’ He patted his right leg. ‘I sounded so old then. Hence,’ he remarked. ‘Hence.’ He put on a posh old voice.

  ‘I’m old and I can’t remember the last time I said hence,’ said Mr Donovan.

  ‘Sure, Dylan,’ Joel replied. ‘I’ll take a look tomorrow.’

  Dylan fiddled with his phone then said, ‘Sent.’

  Joel gave him a thumbs-up.

  ‘Sent mine too,’ Zac said. ‘Two versions, actually. I’m not sure whether to open with the scene from Afghanistan, or my first day of sobriety.’

  ‘I’ll let you know what I think, but trust your instincts. What you feel is the best way to tell your story.’ He was fascinated to read about Zac’s experience.

  Zac gave a nod.

  He glanced at Olivia, whose face was pinker than usual and she was fiddling with her earring. Her eyes often looked like they were distant—seeing things that weren’t there, like she was lost in some other world, or her imagination.

  ‘I hope to finalise mine tomorrow night,’ she said, and when he caught her eyes she diverted her gaze.

  What went on in that woman’s mind?

  ‘Oh,’ Joel said, raising his finger. ‘And don’t forget, have a think about what I said before: if you or your life were an object, what would it be? You can bring an object next week, or just tell the class.’

  Olivia, she was like a … cardigan. Warm, comfortable, covering up what’s underneath. Or a … clock. Ticking away at the same speed, starting all over again the next day.

  But after discovering more about her lately via her cute and often funny text messages, which seemed to be the way she communicated the easiest, he was starting to think of her as an alarm clock—ticking away at the same speed, starting all over again the next day, but also—surprising him at certain times with sudden bursts that awakened him.

  The class shuffled out, except for Olivia who seemed to be taking a long time to pack away her things, and Mr Donovan who was checking some posters on the community noticeboard.

  ‘Can I walk you out, Miss Olivia?’ Mr Donovan said when he turned away from the board.

  ‘Oh, no thanks Mr Donovan, I’d like to have a brief word with Joel,’ she said, and he managed to catch her eye for a split second. She probably wanted to tell him that he could take his idea for a book-worthy moments list and shove it where the sun didn’t shine, as she had not been too pleased with his suggestions so far via text.

  Greg Donovan put his cap on his head and gave a little bow as he exited the hall. Joel switched off the main lights, leaving the one near the entrance on.

  He offered her a smile.

  ‘Great class, thanks,’ she said. ‘And I accept your challenge.’

  ‘The pancake challenge?’

  She laughed. ‘No. Well, yes, but I mean the other one. The book-worthy moments. I’ll do five more over the duration of the course, as long as they don’t take up too much time away from my daughter, and I don’t have a lot of time off, so they would have to fit in with my schedule and all that.’

  He nodded. ‘Have you decided what you’d like to do?’

  ‘You can decide. As long as they don’t involve life-threatening situations like jumping from a plane, jumping from anything and hanging upside down from a rope, or skinny-dipping. And I’m not getting a tattoo. Or body piercing. Also I’m never wearing crochet underwear, just so you know.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Skinny-dipping is life threatening huh?’

  She went pinker. ‘You know what I mean. Just bring me back home to my daughter safe and sound, and fully clothed.’

  ‘It’s a deal.’ He held out his hand. She grasped it tentatively at first, her soft skin cool against his, then firmer as she gave it a single shake. ‘Send me your schedule with available days and times and I’ll send you a schedule back with when I’ll pick you up, and what you’ll need.’

  ‘So each thing is going to be a surprise, not only the treasure hunt?’

  ‘Yep.’ He grinned. ‘And I’m surprised, Olivia. I didn’t think you would trust me this much.’

  ‘I didn’t either. So that counts for something different too.’

  He held her gaze for a moment. She adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder, which he’d noticed she often did, and something popped into his mind. ‘A-ha! Your bag, you had it on the other shoulder, that day at the café.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You noticed?’

  ‘It occurred to me just now.’

  ‘Wow.’ She shook her head. ‘Even I’d forgotten about that.’

  ‘It’s amazing the detail you learn to notice in small things when you’re stuck in the wilderness for ages with nothing else to do.’

  She nodded. ‘Speaking of which, I finished your book.’

  ‘Oh?’ He was impressed. And als
o felt a little bit exposed, knowing she knew so much about him now.

  ‘Amazing, Joel. Really.’ Her eyes and smile were genuine. ‘You’ve been through a lot. And you’ve come out on top, it’s inspiring.’

  He closed his eyes briefly and nodded a thank you. He’d been told similar things before, but it often felt like unnecessary praise. He had simply done what he had needed to do to survive both his mother’s death and his near-death experience. The first event had taught him emotional strength and resilience, the second event had required it. Although sustaining a physical injury when he’d fallen from the cliff face and snagged his leg and calf muscle on a sharp rock protrusion, among other injuries, it had been that mental strength he’d relied on to get him through and take one more breath after the other. When he had run out of food, he’d thought of his mother. When he’d tried to crawl as far as he could and then rest again, before repeating and repeating, he’d thought of his mother. And when he’d resisted screaming after taking that last drop of water, knowing this could be the beginning of the end, he’d thought of his mother and how he couldn’t die, he had to live and keep living, for her.

  ‘Thank you for reading it,’ he said.

  ‘Challenge number one, complete. And it’s selling well at the store so far.’

  ‘Glad to hear.’

  He turned off the other light and let her walk outside ahead of him. Before unlocking her car parked nearby, she turned and looked at him with a curious sparkle in her eye. ‘You’re an arrow,’ she said.

  ‘An arrow? Like that dude on TV?’

  ‘No, an arrow. That’s your object. You launch forward to new places, not knowing exactly where you’ll land, but shooting ahead anyway. Then you stop for a while, then launch again. You only pull back long enough to prepare to be launched off into a new place.’

  Huh. Cool. ‘You know, I think you may be right. Joel the arrow.’ He moved his hand forward in a sharp gesture.

  ‘Where will he land next?’ She chuckled.

  Joel held out his hands wide with an eager smile. ‘Life will figure that out for me.’

  ‘So what object am I … I’ll have to think,’ she said. ‘Any ideas?’

  Joel held his lips tight, restraining himself from telling her she was a cardigan or an alarm clock. ‘Hmm, I’m tossing up some ideas. But I think I may need to find out a bit more about you before I can come to a satisfactory conclusion.’ He smiled, and she fiddled with her strap again. ‘After all, you don’t have a book about yourself for me to read.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘But I hope to help you start writing one. Metaphorically speaking.’

  ‘Chapter two awaits,’ she said.

  ‘Chapter two already? What happened in chapter one?’

  ‘Reading your book and beginning my challenge to do the same things differently.’

  He nodded. ‘Oh yes. But once I organise your schedule, you’ll have a new chapter that will be a lot more exciting than wearing your bag strap on a different shoulder.’

  ‘I should hope so.’ Her car beeped as she unlocked it. ‘Goodnight, Joel.’

  ‘’Night, Olivia.’ He waited for her to drive away and then stood there in the dim street next to Miracle Park, the terrace shops snug together like a cosy family, the soft streetlamps casting a soothing glow, and for a moment he understood the welcoming appeal of this town. Safe, predictable, and a place many people called home. He had never felt at home anywhere. Movement, adventure, that was his home, if that was even possible.

  But for now, he would have to settle for making Tarrin’s Bay his temporary home.

  Chapter 13

  May Chevalier had always loved books. She’d said that she couldn’t imagine a life without them, and that it started around the time of the war when stories were a way to escape. But that was only part of it. What really cemented her love of books was also a simple, honest love letter, tucked inside the pages of a novel, and forever inside her heart …

  Olivia typed, backspaced, and typed again, the opening page of Memories of May. She wasn’t sure at first whether to mention anything about the letters, or William, but that seemed like a way to acknowledge that part of her life without giving away her privacy. Readers need only know that she had a secret admirer once, as many young women could have had, and that the first initial thrill of receiving a declaration of one’s affection had made an impact on her in those early days, before she got together with Jacques.

  Olivia wrote about the letter, then the fire, and then gave a brief teaser introduction about how this would kickstart Mrs May’s first taste of independence and her dreams to capture dreams within a quaint, magical bookstore in small town Tarrin’s Bay.

  She reread it then emailed it off to Joel for his critique. As the email sent, she wondered what sort of object she was most like. Or what Joel thought she was. Maybe a computer; capable and efficient and helpful, with the occasional crash. Or … she glanced down at her fluffy, plain white slippers. Comfortable, supportive, and warm.

  But she didn’t want to be those objects. She wanted to be something more memorable, more interesting, like … she glanced to the side of her computer. A pen! Yes, a pen. Able to create her own life by simply writing whatever she wanted. Endless possibilities.

  Dull footsteps sounded down the hall and Olivia turned to her door. She stood and walked out quietly, catching a glimpse of Mia’s dressing gown flicking around the corner into the kitchen.

  ‘Honey? You okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Thirsty.’

  Mia had opened the fridge and was about to reach for the juice.

  ‘How about some water, then you don’t have to clean your teeth all over again.’ Olivia poured some water from the benchtop filter jug into a cup.

  ‘Water’s boring,’ said Mia.

  ‘Well, that boring water makes up most of our bodies, so I’d say it’s very un-boring,’ she replied. ‘And what are you doing up so late?’

  ‘My brain wants to think.’

  Olivia chuckled. She knew all about that, and had probably passed this gene onto her daughter. ‘What about?’

  Please don’t make me repeat the USB memory stick thing again …

  ‘You know how you showed me the USB stick and said babies are made when people have loving feelings for each other?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Did you stop having loving feelings for my dad?’

  Crap. Maybe she should have specified that some babies are made when people have loving feelings for each other and some are made when people have lustful feelings for each other and have also consumed a fair bit of wine. ‘Umm,’ Olivia sighed. She slid her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. ‘I guess so, sweetie. Some people aren’t meant to be together for a long time, but the purpose of them meeting is to create a brand new amazing human, and I think that was our purpose. So that you could come into the world.’ She bent down and kissed her forehead. ‘But I will always have special loving feelings for you that are only between mother and daughter.’

  Mia drank the rest of her water then placed the cup in the sink. ‘Okay,’ she said lightheartedly then scooted out of the kitchen. ‘I’m tired, Mummy. You should go to bed too,’ she called out from the hall.

  ‘I will! ’Night, my girl.’ Olivia laughed. That wasn’t too hard. She was expecting Mia to ask more questions, as sometimes giving answers meant more questions were created, and the question and answer sessions could go on for ages. But maybe she was embarrassed that her mother had done the USB memory stick thing and didn’t want to know any more.

  She stood in the kitchen a while longer, her hand resting on the counter, her mind not resting at all. How had so much time passed since that night with Mia’s father … had it really been that long? She wanted to have loving feelings for someone, but not if those loving feelings were destined to end. She couldn’t cope with the heartbreak, and couldn’t put Mia through that. But … lustful feelings? Hmm, maybe she could just have some of those, then there was
no risk to Mia if there were no expectations for anything serious from the get go. But what if she fell more deeply for someone anyway, and they didn’t fall for her? Mia might not be exposed, but was it worth risking being disappointed and heartbroken for a time and not being the happy and always caring and available mother that she’d only ever been?

  Ugh. Too many thoughts in my head. She took a quick breath and forced herself to stop, moving back into her room.

  She jumped when her phone pinged, then she turned the volume off as she saw Joel’s message on the screen.

  I’ll pick you up Sat 3 pm for book-worthy moment #2, text me your address. Wear something comfortable, no skirts.

  Olivia’s heart beat a little faster. Oh God, is it something upside down?

  Olivia had checked prior with her mother if Saturday afternoon would be okay to mind Mia, so she replied to Joel and accepted, though tried to get an idea as to what the adventure was.

  Trust me;) was all he said.

  Well, she was doing this whether she liked it or not.

  * * *

  ‘Thanks, darling,’ Diana said as she kissed Olivia’s cheek at the nursing home the next evening, grabbing her gym bag and walking out in her lycra gear to make her aerobics class in time with Peter.

  Olivia placed her bag down and Mia stuck up her latest drawing for Mrs May on the wall opposite her bed so she could look across and see it; a sky full of cloud-hearts and pink birds flying between them.

  ‘Better than Monet, my dear,’ Mrs May said softly.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Mia. ‘Is that another man you spied on when you were twenty?’

  Mrs May smiled. ‘No, dear. He was a famous painter. An artist. Like you.’

  ‘But I’m not famous.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Mrs May held up the pointer finger on her good hand.

  Olivia helped her grandma take some food, then gave Mia her earphones and sat on the chair with her recorder at the ready. ‘Oh, Grandma, I’ve been waiting to find out what happened next with the love letter, after you found out Jacques didn’t write it.’