The Library of Lost and Found(38)
When she sat down in her wooden chair, she now had space to stretch out her legs. She straightened them out, one at a time, and rotated her ankles without kicking against bags or boxes. It felt so good.
It was only when she’d finished her drink and conducted a small dance along the freed-up pathway that she saw the postcard on her doormat. It poked out from under leaflets for home cleaning services and pizza delivery.
After picking it up, she first admired the illustration of a black Scottie dog on the front, then turned it over. On the back there was a first-class stamp and her name and address. The handwriting was in small capitals, neat and robot-like.
SUNDAY, NOON, FUNFAIR ENTRANCE, BENTON BAY
NO EXCITEMENT
NO SUGAR
NO ALCOHOL
NO BETTING
NO HEAVY CONVERSATION
NO LATE RETURN
FROM GINA
15
Fairground
When Martha arrived, ten minutes early, at the entrance of the fairground, she positioned herself next to a six-feet-tall fiberglass ice cream, which had a face and a big tongue. Although she craned her neck to peer to her left and right, she couldn’t see her nana’s wheelchair or Gina’s white hair.
There was a flutter in her stomach and her heart thumped, as if she was on a first date. She wandered around in small circles on the pavement and rummaged through her handbag, to pass the time until they arrived.
More than anything, she wanted to find out how and why her nana was still alive, but as each minute ticked by, her hopes subsided. Her steps grew slower and her shoulders drooped. She looked at the postcard, to check the date and time.
Where is Zelda?
It was 12:16 p.m. when she eventually saw her nana and Gina approaching with Percy trotting alongside them. Even though her excitement was dampened by the sight of the stern carer, she still felt like skipping to her nana’s side, as she did when she was young. She wanted to wrap her arms around her, to assure herself that she was really here.
She strode over to greet the two women and spotted that Gina’s lips were set in a hard, thin line. Martha felt a flare of anger in her stomach at why this woman was being so hostile towards her. Shouldn’t she be more pleased that the woman she cared for was reunited with her long-lost granddaughter? Martha repeated the last line on the postcard to herself—no late return. Gina made her nana sound like a library book.
“Shall we agree ninety minutes maximum?” Gina said. She wore a beige trench coat with boot-cut jeans and gray loafers. She looked softer today, with her snowy hair in loose waves. Zelda was in her wheelchair, with a turquoise blanket tucked over her legs and a silk scarf wrapped around her head.
“That’s not very long.” Martha frowned. How could they possibly fit years of conversation into such a short time?
“It is enough, for a first outing.”
“I am here, you know.” Zelda raised a hand. “I can speak for myself.”
Gina looked at her. “Ninety minutes only, today. And please be sensible, Ezmerelda. Hook the Duck or the penny arcades are fine, but I do not want you to dislocate your shoulder on anything like the coconut shies.”
Martha curled her fingers to stop herself from intervening. She spoke through her teeth. “Is there anything I should know about health matters?”
“No,” Zelda spoke up. “I’ve got a bad dose of old age, that’s all. It’s bloody awful. No cure.”
Martha tried not to laugh and she felt the tension between the three of them ease a little. “We’ll just grab a coffee, or a bite to eat in the café. An ice cream sundae will be as adventurous as we get,” she told Gina.
Her nana’s carer twitched a wry smile. “And that just shows how little you know Ezmerelda,” she said.
* * *
“She’s just trying to look after me, in her own way,” Zelda said, her lips ventriloquist-still as she waved goodbye to Gina.
“She’s very, um, firm.”
“It’s just her way.”
The two women headed through the entrance arch and into the main body of the fairground. Martha remembered them as magical places: the flashing lights, the blast of music and the laughter. But now she saw danger and neglect. Thick black cables running across the floor might trip you up. She noticed the chipped paint on the Waltzer cars as they spun around their circular track and she found the smell of fried onions sickly. Everything seemed louder and brasher.
Her neck felt stiff as she thought of how many years had passed between her and Zelda. If you loved someone so much in the past, would the future only disappoint? Could the years melt away so easily, or would they be like a wall of ice?
“The café looks nice,” she said as they moved towards it, though it didn’t look very pleasant at all. Two flat wooden clowns held up a menu board on which everything was served with chips. “I don’t think I’ve ever had chips and cheese before.”
“Are you even hungry?” Zelda stopped her wheelchair abruptly.
“Well, not really.”
“Good.” Zelda took hold of her wheels and pushed forward with her hands, skillfully spinning in the opposite direction. “Follow me.”
“Where to?”
“I want to see the rides.”
Martha sped after her. Her brow furrowed. “But, we need to chat—”