Memories of May Page 11

  ‘Oh yes, was that where we were up to?’ She took a deep breath and adjusted her nasal oxygen tube. ‘Did I tell you about the signature? Is that where we left off?’

  ‘Yes, and that Jacques didn’t want to travel and that the writer of the letter had to be left-handed.’

  ‘Ahh,’ Mrs May went still for a moment, her face softening as though her memories were smoothing out her wrinkles and making her younger again. ‘Well the next day, it all became clear …’

  * * *

  May’s Memories, of truth …

  I volunteered to collect some groceries the next day for the household. Staying in the house was making me a little bored, so as Mrs Chevalier was cleaning the bedrooms, I scooted to town with my list and basket, making sure to offer Jacques a wave as I walked past the tailor’s shop, but my wave went unnoticed; he did not see me.

  The sun speckled the ground as I wandered up the street, and I glanced toward the ocean across from the park and harbour, feeling an impulse to go in for a swim. But there was no time for such luxuries these days, and I needed to be of service as much as possible to the family housing us so kindly.

  The bell jingled as I entered the general store.

  ‘May, what are you doing? I could have delivered you groceries this afternoon,’ said William, standing by the counter, some papers in his hand.

  I swished a hand in the air. ‘Nonsense, I am perfectly capable. The fire didn’t burn my ability to go shopping.’ It was only after I spoke I realised my words may have sounded a bit abrupt. ‘Sorry, your help has been wonderful, I’m just needing to get out a bit and be useful.’

  ‘No offence taken, Miss May. You like to keep moving, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes, I don’t like sitting still. Except when I’m sewing, then it’s actually necessary, but sometimes I think I’d just like to …’ I recalled the secret letter, ‘… run off into the sunset and have a grand adventure.’ I gave a firm nod. I actually hadn’t thought about that before, but since reading the letter, something had sparked in me that urged to be ignited.

  William’s eyes widened. ‘You should do it,’ he said. ‘Everyone should have an adventure.’

  ‘But I have such responsibility. People need me, and we need money.’

  ‘People will get by. Life is for living, is it not?’ I exchanged an interesting glance with him then, and he smiled and looked down at his papers. ‘I’ll let you collect your supplies while I organise this inventory.’

  I nodded, and as I weaved between the shelves and gathered items, I kept glancing back at the counter, his ruffled crazy hair falling over his face, his furrowed brow as he concentrated. Something about him was … intriguing. Interesting … appealing. And as I picked up a bottle of maple syrup, William picked up a pencil and wrote something on the inventory, with his left hand. The maple syrup slipped from my grasp, collided with the edge of the basket and was about to topple to the floor when I managed to quickly catch it.

  Could it be?

  William glanced over, noticing the bottle upside down in my hand. ‘You caught it, how very quick your reflexes are! That was lucky, wouldn’t want to clean up a ton of maple syrup from the floor.’ He winked.

  ‘It was lucky,’ I said, after clearing my throat, then curiosity pushed the next words from my mouth. ‘It was … miraculous, even.’

  William’s pencil hung limply from his hand as he went still for a moment.

  ‘I, ah, I think I have everything I need.’ I took the basket to the counter and he added up the cost in silence and I paid.

  I smiled and thanked him and went to open the door, then turned back. ‘William?’ I asked. ‘Could I ask your opinion on my new signature? I want to make sure I have one I am happy to use throughout my adult life, and I’m so fussy with these things.’

  ‘Of course, show me.’

  I placed the shopping list on the counter, pointing out my attempt and Jacques’. ‘That one’s okay,’ he said, pointing to mine, ‘but not that one, too boring,’ he said, pointing to the other. ‘How about something with a bit of a swirl at the start of your name, like this …’ he used his pencil and wrote May on the paper, the M with rounded tips and a curly swirl at the start.

  Left-handed. Rounded-tip M. His handwriting looked similar to that in the letter.

  My heart pounded. How could I not have known?

  I stared at the paper for what was probably a bit too long, but long enough for William to realise that he had just provided proof of his identity. His hand went to his mouth.

  I didn’t know what to say next, so I quickly shoved the list in my basket and scurried to the door, glancing at him briefly before offering a feeble smile and walking outside.

  Oh goodness, oh goodness! My feet had a mind of their own, scurrying along the street towards our temporary home, desperate to get away from the heightened emotions of the exchange. What do you say to someone when you’ve discovered they are your secret admirer? And what does that someone say to you?

  I hoped I would not have to visit the store tomorrow for any other urgent supplies.

  And it turned out I didn’t. The next day I helped sew new curtains for the sitting room with Mrs Chevalier as Mother was able to rest on the chaise longue and observe. But at the end of the day, Jacques brought in the mail and handed me an envelope. ‘Something for you,’ he said, a curious glimmer in his eye.

  This time, the ‘May’ on the front had the addition of a little swirl at the start of the rounded-tip M, just like the one he had drawn yesterday. My hands quivered. ‘Thank you,’ I said, tucking the letter in my apron pocket.

  ‘What’s that, dear?’ asked my mother in her raspy voice.

  ‘Nothing, just a note from a friend. Everyone’s being so supportive after the fire, it’s nice.’ I pushed a few strands of hair off my face, my cheeks warming.

  ‘Are you alright? You seem a bit flustered, perhaps you’ve been doing a little too much lately after everything that’s happened,’ said Mrs Chevalier. ‘I can finish these on my own, you take some rest, okay?’ She ushered me out of the room without any time for me to object.

  I went to my room and, with a relieved exhalation, sat on the bed. I took the envelope out and with shaky hands, opened it. I licked my lips as though they were about to devour the most delicious treat, and my eyes moved side to side quickly, as though what I was going to see could disappear at any moment. And I read, this time knowing all too well whose hand had moved the ink across the paper …

  Dear Mischievous May,

  I believe you know why I am calling you mischievous.

  I didn’t realise until after I’d written your name that you must have had your suspicions about me and wanted proof. I’m sorry I was speechless, but now that the ink is flowing, so are my words.

  I understand if you are too embarrassed to visit the store, so I will gladly deliver groceries anytime they are needed, but if you feel any kind of interest in what I have been writing, and what I have been feeling, even a smidgen of curiosity, please find a way to meet me tonight after supper, around nine, at Lookout Point. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you, and good intentions, but if we could have a chance to meet and be alone, I could talk to you properly, and then if you want me to leave you alone and stop writing these letters I will, but if you don’t, then … well, I won’t.

  I hope to see you, but if not, I understand and I wish you well on your grand life adventures.

  From your not-so-secret admirer.

  W xx

  Even the W had rounded tips, or bottoms, and a little swirl at the start. I didn’t know why, but tears welled at the edges of my eyes. Why was this making me emotional? Maybe it was because it felt like a fantasy from one of the novels I loved reading, and I didn’t know why or how something beautiful and genuine could happen to me, in this small town, with such a charming, fascinating, and hard-working young man who before now I had not really thought of in that way.

  I tucked the letter into my current nov
el, placed the book under my pillow, then paced the room. I considered telling Mother and Father and the Chevaliers that I was going to visit Betty, but she lived on the other side of town and they wouldn’t want me walking late at night that far on my own. So I decided then and there that I would agree with Mrs Chevalier’s remark from before and that yes, I was indeed feeling a bit worn out and would have an early night.

  But an early night was the last thing on my mind. After supper, I said goodnight to everyone and went to my room, changing into a dress and a woollen cardigan, with flat soft shoes that didn’t make a sound yet were slightly too small for me, being one of the donated items I’d received. They pinched but I didn’t care. I opened the window slowly, placed a cardboard bookmark on the ledge so that it wouldn’t close too tight to ensure I could get back in, and climbed out. The cool breeze nipped at the skin on my ankles and neck and ruffled my hair around my face.

  I had never been dishonest to my family before. But this was something I wanted to do. Maybe this was my adventure, or the start of one, I wasn’t sure. But I would find out very soon …

  ‘And?’ Olivia asked. ‘Then what? Did you meet him? What did he say? What did he do?’

  She sat forward and tensed on her chair as her grandma took a sip of water. ‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘Such a lot to remember. So much excitement, anticipation. My mind is spinning like my stomach was in that moment.’

  Olivia was both concerned for her grandma and extremely eager to find out what happened next, but she couldn’t rush her. If she got overtired physically or emotionally, she would lay for hours not saying a word until she regained her strength, so she had to space things out. There was no way she could not find out the rest of this untold story. But on looking at Mrs May’s weary eyes, she knew it would have to wait till probably Saturday. Except she had her book-worthy moment with Joel, so she would have to go Saturday night, or leave it till Sunday.

  ‘It’s okay, you rest now and we’ll talk again soon,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I should get Mia home and start to get ready for bed. Motherhood calls,’ she chuckled.

  Her grandma nodded. Why did her recollections always end on cliffhangers like in books? Perhaps Mrs May was doing it on purpose to tease her. She wouldn’t put it past her cheeky grandmother.

  She gathered her things and her daughter’s hand in hers, and left Mrs May, smiling at the nursing staff as she left the building.

  Then a shiver of apprehension rippled through her when she thought about the coming weekend … She hoped that Joel’s plans for her didn’t include a cliffhanger of the literal kind. Just like the cliffhangers from her grandma’s story, she wouldn’t put that past him either.

  Chapter 14

  After her mother and Peter picked up Mia, Olivia paced the living room impatiently. She wasn’t used to not knowing what was about to happen. She was used to being prepared and organised for everything. She adjusted the collar of her canvas utility jacket, and smoothed down the creases of her skinny dark jeans.

  A loud and unusual rev sounded outside and she wondered what kind of car Joel drove. She didn’t take him for the muscle-car type, probably something more functional and simple. She grabbed her handbag and stepped outside, locking the door, and turned around to face her driveway.

  She stood frozen to the spot. ‘What on earth is that?’

  ‘It’s a Ducati Diavel.’ He stepped off the matte-black motorbike that looked large and angry and unwelcoming, like it would growl if she got too close to it.

  ‘Why did you come over in that? Do you need to park it here and we’re going to walk somewhere for the book-worthy moment?’

  He shook his head. ‘I hired it.’ He unzipped his backpack and withdrew a helmet. He held it out. ‘Put this on. You’ll need protection.’

  Olivia crossed her arms and shifted on the spot. ‘No, I won’t, I’m not getting on a motorbike. Let’s walk to wherever we’re going. Or I’ll drive.’

  ‘But this is the book-worthy moment; riding off into the sunset, or at least the glaring afternoon sun, with a dashingly handsome man. It’s the journey, not the destination.’ He winked, holding the helmet closer towards her.

  When she didn’t take it, he stepped closer and placed the helmet above her head, and despite her hands instinctively grabbing it, he managed to get it on.

  Her lungs craved oxygen but filled with fear. She gulped and he patted her arm. ‘You’ll be safe with me, trust me. I am fully licensed to ride one of these.’

  It’s okay, Olivia, it’ll be okay, she tried to talk herself around. It’s just like a car, except, it has no roof, and no sides, and … it’s like a … a seat! A chair. An armchair, with no arms. It’ll be just like sitting down and getting comfortable while someone else does everything for you. I just have to hold on.

  She breathed deeply, and her eyes must have looked terrified beneath the helmet because Joel came even closer and this time held both her arms. ‘Seriously, it’ll be okay. Fun, even. I won’t put you in any danger. And afterwards, I will shout you absolutely anything you want to eat and drink, even if it’s not something different.’

  ‘Umm …’ She had forgotten how to speak. And couldn’t feel her legs. And somehow Joel had managed to walk her to the motorbike. And she was lifting one leg over, and sitting down on the wide seat feeling like she was on a hard horse, and her hands were gripping Joel’s waist, and shaking a bit, and then the God-awful sound started up again and she thought she might puke.

  Vibrations from the bike radiated throughout her body, making her feel even more unsteady, and after Joel turned his head and said, ‘Hold on tight,’ (like she wasn’t already), she gasped as the bike surged forward and off onto the street, then screamed as it tilted sideways around the corner and she thought she might graze her leg on the road.

  Oh my God, oh my God! And what if I do need to puke, and Joel can’t hear me over the noise of the thing, and I do puke and it goes all inside the helmet and up my nose and down my chin and in my ears and then explodes down and out of the helmet and sprays backwards for miles to the poor buggers behind us on the road!

  ‘Aghhh!’ she cried out, as they turned another corner, her body feeling like it was flying, but through intense turbulence. And then, hallelujah, after several turns they made it to the highway and it was straight ahead mostly, and she was able to catch her breath.

  ‘How you doin’ back there?’ she thought she heard Joel say.

  A loud and shaky ‘Ahh!’ was all she could manage.

  Shouldn’t they be finishing by now? Shouldn’t they pull over and rest for a while? Surely there was no need to keep going, she’d now officially been on a motorbike. Book-worthy moment number two done and dusted. Time to finish, and then she could …

  ‘Eeeeeee!’ some strange sound escaped her lungs as they sped up and the sound and vibrations intensified. Oh dear. She had a feeling they were just getting started. She also had a feeling Joel was grinning widely beneath his helmet. She should have gotten a tattoo instead, at least she could lie down for that.

  He veered off the highway and up a hill, eventually reaching a more rural area where their speed slowed down. The terrain became bumpier and she thanked the heavens she was wearing a sports bra, as her boobs wobbled like there was no tomorrow. She was also surprised that Joel could still breathe with how tightly she was holding onto him.

  They turned a couple of corners and she tensed again, hoping her legs would not scrape the ground, then they came closer to a small town with only a few shops, a café, and a pub, and he rode into a side street and into a small parking lot where they came to a halt, and for a moment she thought she was going to fall off the bike until Joel put his foot down and held the bike in place.

  Her heart pounded, her breathing was fast, and she was still gripping him.

  ‘You can let go now,’ he chuckled.

  Her fingers appeared glued to his jacket. She peeled her hands off him and tilted to the side to put one shaky foot on the ground, then swun
g her other over and off the bike.

  Joel took off his helmet and then hers. ‘Welcome back to the land of the living,’ he said.

  She took a step forward and almost toppled over, the vibrations still shaking inside of her.

  ‘Awesome, huh?’ He secured the bike. He smiled as he looked at her, then his hand came towards her. He tucked some of her hair behind her ear. She peered into the rear-view mirror and adjusted her half-helmet and half-windswept hair.

  ‘What did you think?’ he asked with an eager grin, his eyes wide and bright.

  ‘I can’t really think straight, I’m not, I’m …’ her heart was still beating fast. But as her brain tried to formulate words, something surprising happened. Her lips arched into a smile. Not a soft, demure smile. But … a big, wide, gaping grin.

  * * *

  She was still smiling the next morning as she made pancakes with Mia, then remembered she was supposed to make a butterfly shape for Joel’s pancake challenge. ‘Oh!’ she said.

  ‘What, Mum?’

  ‘I’m going to try to make a butterfly.’

  ‘Yay!’ Mia jiggled next to her. ‘With sparkly wings?’

  ‘With jam wings. How about half strawberry and half blueberry?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ll eat one wing and you eat the other.’

  ‘Deal, darling daughter.’ She held out her hand for a high-five.

  Now, how on earth to make a butterfly … She started with the spine, or whatever that middle bit was that butterflies had, but scrunched up her nose. It was a bit fat. She tried to tease the end of it to make it a bit longer, then added two blobs either side to make wings, touching the corners slightly to extend them out a bit before the batter set and bubbled.

  She tested the edges to make sure it was set. ‘Now to try and turn it over without messing it up!’ she said, sliding the spatula carefully underneath. She lifted it slowly then flipped it, the ‘butterfly’ retaining its shape. ‘Yes!’