SIX
Six
That weekend, Lottie made the four-hour drive to her grandmother’s cousin Marie’s place. She found it rather relaxing. She listened to music as she admired the passing scenery, forever amazed by the ever-changing landscape. From the wide-open spaces of Banalla, scattered with rocks and jagged outcrops to the rich, fertile countryside of the mountain country, where rainforest and waterfalls ruled, then down towards the coast, where glimpses of the jewelled sea could be spotted as she travelled along the highway. She loved the ocean—what wasn’t there to love? It was beautiful—but her heart belonged to the highlands. There was just something about them that pulled her back there.
Still, she could enjoy a brief visit to the coast, even if it was a day trip—albeit a long day.
She didn’t know Marie well—they’d only met maybe twice in her entire life—but she’d grown up hearing about her and the family through her grandmother relaying any news over the years, as grandmothers tended to do.
The address she pulled up in front of was a modest white fibro house with a pretty garden full of colourful flowers and a rather extensive collection of gnomes lining the pathways, the front steps and the edge of the front verandah. They ranged from cute Snow White –themed ones to the more risqué, with a few being downright obscene. Lottie gingerly picked her way through them to the front door and knocked.
‘Here she is!’ Marie’s greeting caught Lottie off guard; with that same soft, countrified accent, she sounded almost identical to Gran. She even looks a little bit like Gran . Lottie blinked back her surprise.
‘How was the trip?’
‘Fine. It didn’t seem to take that long, actually.’
‘You must have had an early start,’ Marie continued. ‘Come on in, I’ll put the jug on.’
Lottie followed the older woman down a hallway towards the rear of the house to a small kitchen area with a round table covered in an assortment of magazines, opened mail and knitting. ‘Take a seat,’ Marie offered, reaching across to remove the knitting and some of the clutter and place it on a smaller table nearby. ‘How’s your mum? I haven’t seen her in years.’
‘She’s good. Busy with the new day spa and business.’
‘Day spa,’ Marie said, shaking her head slightly as she busied herself with the coffee mugs. ‘Sounds fancy, doesn’t it? Good on her. I’d love to catch up with her again one of these days, but I don’t do much driving since Brian passed away. He used to do most of the driving. I’m getting too old now for long trips.’
‘I’m sure Mum would like to hear from you,’ Lottie said diplomatically. Her mother wasn’t particularly close with any of her extended family. Most were like Marie, second cousins and quite a bit older. Few stayed in contact.
Lottie politely drank her coffee and tried to keep up with the family gossip, but really, she was more interested in what Marie had found that related to her research. Finally, after finishing her coffee, Marie announced she’d better get the things to show her and heaved herself up from the table. She disappeared down the hall, reappearing a few moments later with a box that she placed on the table in front of Lottie.
Lottie lifted the lid of the box and placed it on the table. A slight musty, old-house smell wafted up from inside. It was a familiar scent—her shop often had a similar smell for the first few minutes every morning when she opened the front door. It was the smell of memories and long-forgotten treasures.
Inside were a number of black-and-white photographs and Marie leaned across to explain who the people in them were. Basic information was written on the back of each one, but Lottie was grateful to hear the stories about each of the people in the images. ‘This is Hattie, Emmeline’s daughter,’ Marie said, holding up a photo of a young woman in her early twenties wearing a simple white dress with long sleeves and a high collar. Marie handed her the photograph and Lottie studied it carefully. Hattie’s hair was swept into a bun on the top of her head. The yellow-brownish tint of the image made it impossible to tell what colour her eyes or hair were but there was something familiar about the way her head was slightly tilted that reminded her of Gran. She’d read and typed Hattie’s name into her computer countless times over the years, but this was the first time she’d seen a photo of her and she couldn’t deny that it made her a little emotional.
Underneath the photos was a bundle of photocopied papers and Lottie carefully lifted them out, her pulse rate leaping as she noticed a date in the top corner.
‘I think those will be of interest to you too. I don’t know what happened to the original letters, I only have the photocopies, and they aren’t the best quality, but they were from Emeline to her cousin, Adelaide. The originals would have been very old by the time the copies were made, so they’re a bit hard to read, but very interesting if you have the patience to decipher the handwriting.’
Lottie picked up the first one and took a moment to admire the elegant, minuscule penmanship. The original letter would have most likely been written in black ink but, as Marie had warned, the copy was faded and quite difficult to read. Emeline’s slanted, looping handwriting, although beautiful, seemed almost unreadable at first glance, though Lottie could pick out a few words here and there.
‘These are brilliant, Marie.’ Lottie glanced up and smiled at the older woman. ‘I’m so excited to start reading them. This is exactly the kind of stuff I was hoping to find.’
‘Well, that’s good. I’m glad I could help. None of my siblings or grandchildren were interested in family history, and I only have a little bit on your line of the family tree, because I seemed to be the only one who wanted to save it. I was so happy when you told me about your book and I realised I could give it to you.’
Marie put the jug on for another cuppa and they went through the rest of the photos. This time, Lottie made sure to take notes as Marie talked through the pictures. There was only the odd one or two people that Marie was a little hazy on, but Lottie hoped she’d be able to find some more information once she was able to do some digging of her own.
As she drove home, her mind was already racing with ideas.
As far as information went on Emeline, there wasn’t a great deal. She seemed to pretty much vanish after the hullabaloo of her kidnapping. There was one article Lottie found that mentioned the safe return of William Grant’s daughter two days before Jack was killed in the shootout, then nothing. It seemed odd, but then, Lottie supposed, there’d been so much going on at the time, maybe it was simply overlooked … or had been played out that way. If the gossip was true that not everyone believed Emeline had been taken against her will, and that maybe she and Jack had really been lovers, she could understand why such an important family would want the whole thing to just blow over quietly.
Lottie found a newspaper announcement about her marriage to Henry Oldsfield, the son of another wealthy family in the area, only a few weeks after her return home. Maybe it was just another way to protect reputations—a show of support to end rumours of the Jack and Emeline romance. Whatever the reason, it seemed extremely fast.
Her phone rang, with Beyoncé belting out the lyrics of ‘Diva’.
‘How did it go? Find anything juicy?’ Cher asked when Lottie answered.
‘Not as juicy as a signed confession that Jack McNally fathered Emeline’s child, unfortunately, but there are lots of gorgeous letters and photos that will be perfect for the book. It was well worth the trip.’
‘That’s great news!’
‘What about you? How was the weekend?’
‘The show on Saturday night went fabulously. A huge crowd. I’m still recovering from the Melbourne crew who came up to perform. I think I’m getting old, darling. I don’t seem to bounce back from a night of drinking and dancing like I used to.’
‘Happens to the best of us,’ Lottie chuckled. ‘I’m sure you were still the last one off the dance floor though.’
‘Of course,’ Cher agreed haughtily and Lottie could imagine her fluttering those incredible false eyelashes and giving a flick of her wig.
They said goodnight and Lottie walked back into the lounge room, where she’d spread out the contents of the box onto the floor. She hadn’t gotten through everything yet, but she already knew exactly which stories she wanted to put with each of the images. She decided to get busy and start scanning everything so she could work on her project. She wouldn’t be getting to bed early tonight, but she didn’t mind—the book ideas were flowing and she wanted to jump on this surge of inspiration.