Thinking of Zelda’s words about letting go of the past, she stood on her wooden chair and slid a box off the top of the giant wall.
Opening it up, she found it contained random items, such as an old camera, an Egyptian cat statue, a Russian doll and a few photo frames without prints in them. Although she remembered some of the things, none held any real sentimental value. She repackaged them and marked the box with an X to indicate its contents should go to the charity shop.
Another box was packed full of her mum’s books, the spines all facing upward in a line. Martha ran her finger along them—fashion, astrology, family sagas, feel-good novels. She placed the collection on her To Keep pile, to browse through properly another time. Perhaps she could pass them on to Owen. She liked the idea of other readers getting pleasure from them.
Her fingers lingered on the box before moving it to the side of the room, realizing that her brain had conjured up a reason to contact him again.
With each box she relocated from the Berlin Wall to the charity pile, Martha felt a little lighter, as if she’d been carrying a heavy backpack that she’d just shrugged off. She found the task in her notepad and proudly changed the red dot of lateness to an amber star.
One box contained the rug she used to lie on when she was a girl. As she unfurled it and laid it on the floor, dust motes danced in the air and she ran her hand through them, marveling as they sparkled. She leaned down to straighten the tassels on the rug and then got down on the floor. Lying down on her belly, she grinned as she kicked her legs back and to for a while, with her chin resting in her hands.
The only things missing from the scene were her writing pad and pencil.
Martha had just wrapped her arms around a fifth box, edging it off the top of its pile, when the phone rang. She peered over the cardboard, down to see her own feet, and stepped off the chair. Dumping the box on top of the dining table, she batted a stripe of dust from the arm of her long-sleeved T-shirt and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Good morning,” Gina replied.
“Oh,” Martha said, not expecting her voice. “How are you?”
“Fine. Thank you for asking.” Gina’s words were clipped, as if she was making the call against her will. “I would like to ask you a question, about the fairground.”
“Yes, of course.” Martha wondered if she was about to be berated for breaking the no sugar rule, or perhaps the no excitement one. She had definitely bent the no heavy conversation one. She swallowed hard, as she wondered if her nana had reported her for asking too many questions.
To distract herself from the uncertain feeling in the pit of her stomach, she lifted one of the flaps on a box and spied a pair of binoculars. She remembered her father taking them to the beach and pointing them at Betty rather than out to sea.
“Did Ezmerelda do a Read and Run?” Gina asked. “She left with a copy of Blue Skies and Stormy Seas in her bag, but when I unpacked her things it was not there.”
Martha frowned to herself. “I’m not sure what you mean. What’s a Read and Run?”
“They are something Zelda decided she wanted to do, after her operation. She goes somewhere, takes a copy of her book and reads it aloud in a public place. Then she leaves it for someone else to discover.”
Martha cleared her throat. She didn’t want to implicate her grandmother but felt she didn’t have a choice. “Zelda read aloud from the book and placed it on the ground. It happened so quickly, I didn’t know what was going on.”
“I knew it,” Gina said with a weary sigh. “I wish she would stop them.”
“Why does she do it?” Martha asked. To her, it seemed bizarre that her nana would want to share the stories.
Gina fell silent before she spoke. “Ezmerelda says she wants to bring those stories to people, as many as possible, in the time she has left. I assume she has told you about her situation?”
Martha closed her eyes. “Yes.”
Gina tutted. “She thinks that she is still eighteen years old. You are lucky she did not make you go on any rides.”
With a spike of guilt in her stomach, Martha felt she ought to admit the truth. “We, might have, um...”
However, Gina interrupted her. “Please wait a moment. Ezmerelda is here now and wants to ask you something. Goodbye.” And with that, the phone rattled as she passed it on.
“Martha,” Zelda said, her voice lively. “Are you okay? I’ve rested up.”
Martha’s eyes crinkled at the sound of her voice. “I’m so pleased you’ve called. I was worried you might be tired out. after the fair. I know I asked a lot of questions...”
“Yes, you did,” Zelda said. “I’m not really surprised. Look, I know it’s short notice, but are you free for dinner? There’s a few friends coming over.”
Martha found herself grinning. She’d prefer to see her grandmother alone, without having to deal with Gina’s trickiness. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to get to Benton Bay again, but she wasn’t going to turn down this opportunity to see her nana. “This evening?”
“Yep.”
“I’d love to.”
“Fantastic.” Zelda waited a while before she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I told Gina we went for coffee at the fair. No rides. It helped to keep her sweet after my Read and Run.”
“I don’t think you were supposed to do that, either.”
“Tsk. Gina used to do them with me, until she got all careful. Anyway, be here for seven o’clock. Bring tiramisu—and, oh, fetch a friend.”
Martha stared at her phone. There was one person above anyone else that she should take to meet Zelda.
However, the last time she spoke to Lilian she told her to leave the book alone.
Yet it had opened up this whole new other world. Martha wanted to tell her sister that she had found Zelda, that their nana was still alive. But how would she take it? Even Martha couldn’t quite believe it had happened.
When Lilian answered the call, she sounded tired again. “Hi, Martha. Don’t tell me. You’ve finally finished Will’s trousers?” she said.
“Actually, yes,” Martha said. “I’ll drop them around for you.”
“And you haven’t forgotten that you’re looking after the kids on Saturday?”
“No. I’ll try to clear a space in the house.”
“Hmm, I bet that’s easier said than done.”
“Yes, but I’ve made a start. I’ve unpacked five of Mum and Dad’s boxes this morning. Do you want to take a look through any of their stuff?”
“I don’t think so. It’s been so long, and I have lots of photos and memories. I don’t want to get all misty-eyed about the past. Not at the moment, anyway.”
“Well, okay.” Martha fell quiet for a while, trying to work out how to approach the subject of their nana.
“Great. Well, it was good to speak to—” Lilian started.
Realizing she was about to hang up, Martha raised her voice. “Wait. Don’t go. I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Can you join me for dinner this evening?”
“Really? At the house? Can you even find your dining table? What’s the occasion?”
“I’ve been invited somewhere and I’d like you to join me.”
Lilian hesitated. “I think this is the first time you’ve ever invited me to do something social.”
“Sorry.”
“I think I’m free. Where is it?”
Martha wound the telephone wire around her wrist in a bracelet and then back again. She tried to rehearse words in her head but they jumped around. She knew that saying this wouldn’t be easy, and she just had to go for it. “I know you said to leave the old book alone, but I couldn’t do it. I found the date of the dedication was correct. Nana published the book and did sign it, in 1985.”
Even though Lilian was over a mile away, Martha felt the air chill between them.
“What does that have to do with dinner?”
“I’ll try to explain,” she said with a swallow. “Owen Chamberlain, at the bookstore, traced another copy to Monkey Puzzle Books in Benton Bay. The owner, Rita, found it in a very odd way. Two ladies did a reading in the street and left it behind.”