Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Jules
T o appease our guilt at planning a brief break without Riley, Mick and I take her to the museum to see an ancient Egyptian exhibition. It might seem like an odd place to entertain a six-year-old, but the curators have included some interactive sections I know Riley will love. We might have also promised her ice cream and a ferry ride afterwards.
What I didn’t anticipate was my reaction. The musty odour has the effect of smelling salts, awakening memory cells that have languished since the day I left Egypt, my pregnancy a dirty shame that immobilised my career faster than a viral TikTok.
Riley jumps up and down, rubbing her hands together, unable to contain her excitement.
“What’s a Pharoah?”
“What’s a Mummy?”
“Are they really dead?”
Mick answers her rapid-fired questions with infinite patience, which is a relief because there’s a windstorm whipping up a frenzy in my head. It was a mistake to come. I thought it would be a wonderful bonding experience to share my love of archaeology with Riley. The exhibition has travelled all the way from Egypt and contains many treasures, some of which have only been uncovered in the last ten years. It’s as close to the Middle East as I can get for now, and yet all I want to do is run as far away as possible in the opposite direction. Away from heat and sand. Shovels and broken pottery. Hopes and shattered dreams.
“Why don’t you ask your mum?”
Mick’s question jolts me back to the queue we’re standing in. I blink and turn to Riley.
“Mummy, did you dig up stuff when you were in Egypt?”
The wonder in Riley’s expression is confirmation that bringing her here was the right decision, even if it is uncomfortable for me. “I certainly did.”
She slips her tiny hand in mine. “Wow. I can’t wait to tell everyone at school that my mum’s an archologist.”
I laugh at her mispronunciation, but a pang of want swamps my heart. I was an archaeologist for a short, short time. And I loved it. Maybe one day I’ll get a chance to do it again.
We nudge closer to the entrance. A nearby attendant, an older woman with striking platinum hair and a friendly face, approaches us. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Did you spend time in Egypt?”
I smile, my jaw tightening at the pretence. “Yeah. At Saqqara.” That’s the site from which many of the exhibition’s artefacts come from. It’s the very location where I started my short, four-week career. While it may not have the same fame as Luxor or the Great Pyramids, it’s firmly on the map thanks to recent discoveries. And good old Amelia Leppington is right there in the thick of it. Which means I really didn’t think this through. I scratch the base of my neck. The interior of the museum feels as parched as the Western Desert where Saqqara is located. “I was just out of uni.”
“That must have been incredible.”
“It was.” Desperate to stop the conversation, I glance at Mick, but he’s on his knees, re-lacing Riley’s sneakers. I return my attention to the woman. “Have you been to Egypt?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’ve never been outside of Australia. I could never afford it.” Her smile fades. “My son had a lot of medical needs growing up, so we spent all our money on expenses.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He’s healthy now. Twenty-five and off to Europe with his friends for the trip of a lifetime. No sacrifice is too big if it makes your children happy and healthy. Besides, the world comes to Australia from time to time, so I haven’t missed out at all.”
“That’s true.” It’s not the same as seeing the real thing, but I have no desire to burst her bubble. I’d rather join her within its comforting embrace. Instead of wallowing in self-pity at the unfair challenges life has thrown at her, this woman has thrived. The happiness and contentment emanating from her is so strong I feel an urge to hug her.
She glances at Riley, who’s returned to interrogating Mick about what else will be in the exhibition. Gold? Horses? Is he really, really sure we’re not allowed to touch anything?
“Your husband is very patient.”
“Yeah. He is.” I give him full marks for trying to make amends for his workaholic tendencies. He’s a wonderful dad when he makes the time. I glance at her badge. “So, you volunteer here?”
“Yes. I’m also lucky enough to work part time in the natural history section. Most of us helping with the exhibition are volunteers. If you’re interested, you should enquire. No doubt, the museum would love to have someone with your expertise on the team.”
I stand a little taller. Why didn’t I consider this option before? It may not be Egypt, but it’s closer to my passion than a café. “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought.” Hell, I’ll be submitting an expression of interest the moment we get home. A part-time job at the museum, even if it’s only volunteering, would be perfect. At least in the short term.
We finally step inside the exhibition. The air is crisp, sending a shiver down my spine, and the lights are dimmed to create a mysterious ambience. The crowd is hushed like they know we’re in the presence of greatness. Although, if the curators wanted to be authentic to the location the artefacts were found in, they would make the room hot and dusty and blindingly bright.
My skin itches. I’m torn between running screaming from the building and lapping up every single description of each artefact. It’s exhilarating yet depressing. Fascinating but also soul destroying.
“You okay?” Mick cups my jaw, his expression telling me he knows this is hard for me. I give him a tight nod. His consideration is unexpected. We never talk about what I gave up when I became pregnant. And this is why I want to share it with our daughter. Share this part of me with her. I don’t know if or when I’ll ever visit Egypt again or take Riley. This exhibition has brought a piece of that ancient land to Australia, and I’d be a fool to ignore it because of regrets or envy.
Riley slides a finger across the Perspex protecting a sarcophagus from onlookers. I gently move her hand away. She huffs and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
We continue through the exhibition. The richness of colours—shades of ochre—tug at my soul. At least there’s no mention of Amelia in any of the credits since her discovery is too new. I’m not sure I could control my emotions or my reaction if her name appeared in the acknowledgements. Riley doesn’t need to see her mother thrown out for poor behaviour. I shudder to think what she’d paint next at school.
Mick dips out of the 3D visual experience. No surprise there. Even though we’re safely inside the museum, he wouldn’t be comfortable having his senses cut off from the world around him. He thinks I don’t notice how he’s constantly scanning his surroundings. But I do. When we go out to dinner, which isn’t that often these days, he always takes a seat that protects his back.
Riley gives me a thumbs up as the attendant positions goggles over her eyes.
I’m next and soon the video starts. My fingers grip the edges of the seat, my head swivelling from side to side, taking it all in. ‘Spirit’ Nefertari guides us through the ruins and rolling sand dunes where artefacts are waiting to be found, studied and revered. The experience is so real I can almost taste the desert. Touch it. Sense the warmth of the sun on my face.
The tone becomes sinister as we’re chased by the spirit of Ramses II in the form of a whirlwind of sand. His massive mouth looms closer and a shiver as harsh and relentless as the imaginary desert sweeps over me. Has marriage swallowed my dreams?
A scream pierces the air.
Riley.
My heart thuds like the hooves of a thousand warrior horses. I don’t bother to throw my hand up to attract the attendant’s attention. I just rip off the goggles and headphones and slip out of my chair.
Mick is crouching over our daughter, calming her.
“Sorry. It was a bit scary, but I’m okay now.” There’s a rosy sheen to Riley’s cheeks that suggests she’s more than okay. “That was awesome, Mummy. When can we go to Egypt?”
My panic settles at Riley’s quick adjustment. Has she inherited my passion?
“When you’re older,” says Mick.
“How old?”
Oh my God. So many questions. Riley’s mind is sharp. Too sharp .
Mick taps her nose. “When I say so.”
As we leave the 3D experience hall, Riley slips her small hands in mine and Mick’s, and I take one last, lingering look behind me. I’m flipping from frustration that I should have been on the ground in Egypt, uncovering the latest artefacts to overwhelming love at my child’s delight in the exhibition. She’s so much like I was at her age with her vivid imagination and unquenchable curiosity. I may have missed out on the thrill of archaeological discoveries, but if I hadn’t fallen pregnant, I would never have known the joy of watching my child grow and learn.
The woman with the silvery hair waves as we walk past. I wave back. I was wrong to fear the ghost of Ramses II. Marriage and motherhood haven’t swallowed my dreams. They’ve brought me riches worth more than all the gold in those ancient tombs.
Riley chatters nonstop for half the trip home and then crashes. It’s been a huge day for all of us. A bonding day. One that will stay with me for a very long time.
Mick carries her into the house. “I’ll put Riley to bed. Shall I get takeaway tonight?”
I kiss his cheek. “Sounds perfect.”
After kicking off my shoes, I pour a glass of wine, settle on the couch with my legs curled under me, and open my laptop. I don’t want to waste another moment applying for a volunteer position. I find the website, fill in my details and hit send.
Yay!
This might be the change I need to climb out of my rut.
Instead of wasting time on Facebook, I google archaeology to see if I can find any other jobs and stumble upon an ad that has all the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention. I uncurl my legs and sit straighter.
A master’s degree.
Could I?
I read the description through twice. The subject matter is different from what I studied, but it sounds fascinating. Perhaps a brand new start is what I need?
The ad closes on Monday, so it’s lucky I looked tonight. Maybe there’s even more gold out there for me. I’ve just been looking in the wrong places.