Fake ID (6 page)

Then I checked to see if Mum had e-mailed me. She keeps different hours from me because her Antarctic station is in a time zone that's three hours behind.

Often Mum forwards me jokes from the other expeditioners. They're mainly guys Down South, but Mum is one of three women. I used to like the jokes, but now I wonder if she sends me jokes because she can't think of anything else to say. Other times she sends me digital photos of wildlife, the animal kind like seals or penguins or killer whales. Luke prints them out for me.

I stick them up beside the wildlife map with the grid references. When Mum sees a special bird like an albatross, she tells me and I mark it on the map. Mum's a birdo, which means she really notices birds.

‘The Sooty Albatross are beautiful,' she wrote. ‘They fly in pairs and mate for life.'

Mum didn't stay with Dad but I guess she still likes the Sooty Albatross best.

When Mum first went down, she'd just got a new digital camera and she hadn't read the instructions, so lots of the shots were at odd angles.

Then she started sending me stuff in a picture code.

Thank you Zoe for the e-mails from you.

Since the "written word" is too "hard" sometimes, let's use "smileys" to describe how we feel when the sentence is written.

:-) = smiling

*LOL* = laughing out loud

*S* smiling — good mood etc.

:-* = kiss:-( = not so happy

There are hundreds of these "chat-signs". And you find them all over.

Mum

But she didn't use any of the signs after her name.

I e-mail her every few days, or when Luke gets off the Warne computer and I can have a turn. I've started using a few of the ‘smileys', but there hasn't been much to smile about since Gran's funeral.

‘My turn now.' Luke started checking.

‘I've found the finalthoughts.com site. Decided to fill in the forms as if I were your gran to work out what she did. Maybe that will give a clue.'

I looked over his shoulder and read aloud:

‘ “Arrangements for after your Death. To Join, please enter your email address…” But if you fill that in, won't they charge us a fortune?' Mum had warned me not to join Internet sites.

‘No. I can delete it afterwards. Let's look at the FAQs and the Demo. Fastest way to find how it works.'

Luke tapped furiously, as if his fingers had lives of their own. Lives of their own. Death. I'd have to stop thinking of those words.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

Q. What Services do you provide?

A. You receive your own personal and confidential File Cabinet with easy-to-use, fill-in-the-blank forms to help you share important information with loved ones.

Q. Do your services replace the need for a will?

A. No. In fact, you may actually save time and money by completing our online forms in advance of meeting with a professional. We provide them to help you share information regarding your final wishes with families and friends.

Q. How will my messages be sent?

A. Choose one or more individuals to serve as your "Guardian." The Guardian will have his or her own special login and password and will be able to send your messages to your intended recipients when you pass away.

Q. Can I view your services without joining?

A. Yes. We recommend that you view the demo on our homepage. You will learn how "Anonymous", our fictional first member, has taken advantage of our services.

‘Meet Anonymous. That's me…'

Luke hit the delete button.

‘Well that's what your Gran must have done. They've even got one for pets. I wonder who fills that one in? A.Dog?'

‘Luke!' called his dad, ‘Come outside and have a hit with your stick. Get off that computer.'

For the next half hour, down the side of the garage, Luke was fooling around with his Dad. Crack. Bang. Lots of laughs.

‘Look out!'

They were using an old chair as the goal. Luke was dribbling a hockey ball along the uneven driveway. He was trying to score a goal through the chair legs, using his hockey stick. Dad was defending, when he wasn't doubled up laughing. He hauled at his loose trackie pants, pushed back his daggy glasses and then made another lunge.

‘Got it!' Laughing they fell over in a tumble of legs and hockey sticks. In between, Puss streaked, just as Luke stepped backwards, and fell over the startled cat.

‘Your fault, Puss. Get out of the way. If you get under my feet, of course I'll squash you and you'll be a Flat Cat.' Luke pushed the cat away with his foot.

‘Careful with dumb animals.' Luke's dad picked up Puss, and smoothed the cat's fur. ‘Sorry, Puss. We nearly took one of your nine lives then.'

‘Puss isn't dumb. You can hear that squawk anywhere,' Luke protested.

‘Want to have a go, Zoe?' Luke's dad held out his stick, but I shook my head. Usually I didn't miss having a dad because he'd never been around. But, just sometimes, it hurt when Luke's family was so uncomplicated. I didn't even know who was in mine any more. Several Grans. Maybe an uncle. I'd have to paint a tree like Gran did to work out all the twigs and branches. Had she done that for herself or someone else or just copied Bruce's tie?

‘Dad meant playing hockey, not squashing Puss,' Luke laughed. ‘Although that might be a good idea.'

‘Yeah. I know.' I said but I was really thinking about Gran's clues.

Who was the mysterious Fortuna? I'd checked the postcards which weren't written in English. Rather than ‘
FOR TUNA
', the curly writing could have said
FORTUNA
. But Zaria was a third name! I'd keep that appointment at Studio 17 at 4 p.m., even if I had to get off school early. Should have shared the ‘
not to be opened'
package with Bruce, but Gran's things would be taken away from me and if she had other lives for bad reasons, the whole world would know next time
Missing Millions
was on.

‘Want to cuddle Puss?' Smoothing its fur, Dad offered the cat to me.

‘No, thanks.' Bark and I agree on that cat.

‘Dinner's ready,' called Luke's mum. She'd set the table with red place mats that you can wipe clean if you drop bits.

Spag bol is terrific the way she makes it. Luke had two helpings. So did I. The cheesy bits on top are ace. And the crusty bread is sliced sideways. She's different from Kat, who hates cooking.

‘Luke told me about the Trustee, Zoe. Glad you've got some help. Your gran must have set that up recently. Did you bring anything back from the house?' Luke's mum continued, ‘What's happening about that dog?'

‘Mrs Donna…er, Nell is feeding Bark for a few days. I'll go back and give him walks. I didn't want to bring Bark here.'

Luke's Mum just nodded. She knew Puss didn't get on with other cats. A dog like Bark would be even worse.

‘I brought back some Kovacs family photos. Might put them up in my room.'

‘Do you want to show them to us?' asked Luke's mum as she put plastic wrap over the left-overs.

I shook my head. While Luke and I helped clear the table, wipe the red place mats and stack the dishwasher, I thought about those photos. The ones from the ‘
NOT TO BE OPENED
' package and the digitally enhanced ones. I was planning to look at them in my bedroom later, sort of in private.

In my bedroom I made a bit of a memory corner with one of the photos.

‘Bloody shrine,' said Luke later, looking at the candles. ‘It's a fire hazard if those veils catch alight on the candle. Dad hasn't put our smoke detectors in yet. Come out and watch TV.'

Luke wanted to watch
Missing Millions
. ‘There's Bruce. Doesn't he look …!' Presenter Bruce was so obviously loving the camera

‘Yeah…,' I added. ‘But he's OK to talk to.

‘Welcome to “Missing,” the TV program where we share with you. Some people do not leave wills. Sometimes they have big estates. If you can prove you are a descendant of this person, you may stand to gain. Do you know this person?

The job of State Trustees is to find who might inherit. Maybe you can help.'

A zoom to a woman's face.

‘Good definition,' Luke always liked to be seen as the techie expert..

‘Known as “Freda”, this woman died recently leaving an estate of over a million dollars. We are looking for her descendants. Documentary evidence like a birth certificate and photos will be needed. DNA testing may be required to check if they are of the same family. A sample from Freda will be DNA tested against any claimants.'

The camera zoomed on a passport photo. That made me think of Gran's ID card and why she didn't have a passport showing when she entered Australia. Perhaps she came in legally, but didn't renew it; 1956 was years ago. Gran was becoming a shady lady. Would anyone remember the real her ?

‘If she's already dead, how can you take DNA samples to compare with other family?' I said.

‘Maybe they dig up the person?' suggested Luke. ‘And then take a bit off the body. Like a slice. In science we had to dissect a frog and then Mr Noel…

‘Luke…!' called his mother warningly. ‘Remember where Zoe has been today.'

She was trying to be kind, but Motormouth Luke always says what he thinks and that's sort of comforting, when you're feeling low. It wasn't that I didn't care about Gran. I did. Lots. But this business didn't seem to have much to do with Gran and me. Still, I dropped my voice so Luke's mum wouldn't think we didn't care.

I whispered, ‘But what if they were cremated? There'd be nothing to match against? You can't use ashes can you?' I remembered those rows of urns at the funeral place.

‘Maybe that's why some people are cremated, so officials can't check?' Luke looked thoughtful. ‘Who decided your gran was to be cremated? ‘

‘She did, I guess. Was it written down? Wouldn't she have to tell someone what she wanted?'

‘Not if she died quickly. And no one's found a will yet.' Behind us, TV-Bruce was talking to himself, sort of. ‘That's why wills are called that,' Luke said. ‘Will you do this…? Sort of… Like organ donors… To take care of things in case they're out of it at the end…' Then Luke went red. ‘Sorry. She was OK, your gran.'

‘I know. You said that at the funeral.'

Missing Millions
finished with a list of contact websites and phone numbers rolling over Bruce's face. The volume increased as the White Ladies' Funeral ad started suggesting people pre-arranged their own funerals, paying in advance and saying what they want to happen.

Luke pointed. ‘Bet that's where she got the idea and booked them, too.'

I nodded, still thinking about tests Gran might have taken earlier. Wouldn't the Blood Bank keep records of donors? Yes. I remember having a free milkshake at the Blood Bank, waiting for her because you can't donate until you're sixteen.

‘Can they DNA match blood?' I asked.

‘Yeah. Or scrape inside your cheek with a cotton bud to get DNA. I saw that on TV Or tell stuff from just one hair from your head. They can check if your dad is your dad.' Luke laughed. ‘Mine says he'd like to trade me in if he could, but unfortunately we look so like each other.'

Luke's dad had daggy reading glasses too. Bad eyesight genes in the Warne family. So lucky.

‘I'm the same height as my gran was. And we have…had the same colour eyes.' That didn't really prove anything. I didn't mention my nose was starting to stick out as much as Gran's.

Mum usually rang me once a week, but in between she e-mailed. Because it cost a lot to ring from Down South, we usually agreed on the time and I'd try to be around. The phone was in the hall at Luke's place, and the cord was short, so others could hear when I did talk. Mum wasn't much of a listener. Sometimes I didn't know what to say, because her life was so different. She just told me what she was doing on the station, or about the penguins or the icebergs. Sometimes she'd ring Luke's mum as an extra, but I didn't always know when that would happen. With the funeral stuff, Mum had been ringing a bit more. It was easier when we talked about stuff like what time and how much and who was there. I couldn't really talk about Gran being someone else because I hadn't worked it all out in my head yet anyway. Maybe I'd write down some questions to ask Mum.

‘Luke, if you have another snack-attack and eat all of the left-over spag bol, please wash the plate,' Luke's mum reminded.

After, as I was cleaning my teeth, Luke knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Hey, Zoe! That
Missing Millions
program made me think. Want me to do an online search to find out about your gran's past?'

‘She's not missing. She's dead. Anyway, Sandor already found her here.' I said. ‘But what if we find out she killed someone? Or was a spy? She does seem to have more than one name… and other lives.'

Luke whispered, ‘Maybe she changed names for another reason?'

‘So how would we know which name to search? Or what if you find the other Magda?'

‘Try them all,' said Luke decisively. ‘Night.'

I slept with both family photos under my pillow that night. Which was real? Or were they both fakes? It was like parallel families. Had Gran meant to scan them onto the computer and send them somewhere? Or attach them to her finalthoughts.com message?

In my dream that night, I was back at the funeral. Like a replay, with the White Ladies and a little kid who looked a bit like me: big nose and sandy hair, with freckles. Like the digitally enhanced boy in the photo. And a bit like Pa, who had red hair until he went bald and just the fluffy bits stayed around the edges of his head. Even Bark got into the dream and he was barking in Hungarian. In the dream I started to ask the dog in how many languages he could bark, and then I woke up. It was like one of those English essays when you can't think of anything to finish with so you write…
and it was all a dream.