Lola's Secret (18 page)

Beneath the image, a small box displayed the age of the subject: seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy-nine … She asked Luke to stop the program at the age he would be now—eighty-three. If nature had been as kind as the computer program, if he was still alive—all those ifs—then Alex was still a handsome man. Elderly, yes. Wrinkled, yes, but the image on the screen had the same kind eyes, the same shy smile. Beside her, Luke stayed silent. She was grateful for his sensitivity. She patted his hand.

“Thank you, Luke.”

“Does he look like you imagined?”

“Even better,” she said.

“Would you like a printout of that last photo?”

“You can do that?”

“I can do anything.”

Another click of the mouse, a whirr of the printer, and there it was in her hand, a color print of the photograph.

“I’m so glad I’ve lived this long,” Lola said to Luke. “And I used to think the invention of television was incredible. Not to mention skyscrapers. The wheel. Fire …”

Luke grinned as he closed the program down. “Is there anything else I can do, Lola? Would you like me to try and find out where your friend is now?”

Lola laughed. “Could you? Yes, please. Would you ask him to meet me for lunch here tomorrow?”

“I mean it, Lola. Do you want me to try to find him?”

“How on earth will you do that? You don’t even know him.”

“Lola, haven’t you listened to anything I’ve been teaching you for the past year? This box thing is called a computer. It’s connected to an amazing invention called the Internet that stretches all around the world and—”

“Yes, Luke, very droll. I mean it. How could you possibly find him?”

“On the Internet. There are thousands of websites to help find people. Not just by Googling them, either. You remember what I taught you about Googling?” At Lola’s nod, Luke went on enthusiastically. “There are ‘find your family’ sites, ‘trace your ancestry’ sites, hundreds of ways of tracking down people, all over the world.”

“But he’s probably still in Italy. You don’t speak Italian, do you?”

“No, but the computer can. There are hundreds of translation sites. Lola, I’m serious. I’m happy to try and find him if you want me to.”

“But he might be dead by now. He probably is. It’s a miracle I’m still walking and talking.”

“Maybe he is. I can find out for sure, if you want. That would be where I’d start, if you don’t mind me being so ghoulish.”

“Ghoulish?”

“Dead people are the easiest to find. Most cemeteries register all their—” he searched for the word.

“Inhabitants?”

He smiled. “Yes, them. They’re registered online these days. Nearly everything’s online these days. I helped my boss’s wife find her great-uncle last month. He’d fought and died in France and she wanted to find out where he’d been buried. It took a while but I found him. Not just his exact location in the cemetery, either. I even found an aerial photograph of it. I’m sure I could find your friend. I just need all his details, every single thing you can remember about him.”

Lola remembered a great deal. Luke wrote it all down. Alex’s full name. His birthday. His mother’s name. His place of birth. His occupation. His last known address … She hadn’t kept his letters, but she’d always remembered the address.

After he’d finished making notes, she sat back, folded her hands in her lap, and waited.

Luke noticed. “Lola, I’m sorry. I won’t be able to find him right now. It might take me days of searching. Weeks even. Especially when there are two languages involved.”

“Oh, of course,” Lola said, feigning a laugh. “What was I thinking! That you’d be able to conjure him out of thin air just like that!” It was exactly what she’d been thinking. And hoping.

“I’ll do what I can, as quickly as I can, Lola. I promise.”

She patted his arm “You’re a good, kind man, Luke. A good, kind man.” He was. Just like Alex had been.

It was only after she’d said good-bye that she realized she’d missed another opportunity to talk to Luke about Emily. Next time, she vowed.

“H
ELLO
, D
AD
! Did you have a good day at work?”

“Hello, Ellen.” Glenn stopped at the door, immediately suspicious. “What’s wrong? Have you broken something? Has Lin left?”

“No, everything’s fine. She’s cooking dinner. I’ve even done my homework.”

“You do know Denise and Lily are coming tonight?”

“Seven o’clock, isn’t it?”

“And that’s okay? You’re sure?”

“It’s fine.”

“What did Lola say to you? Has she bribed you to behave?”

“Kind of.”

Glenn sent up a silent prayer of thanks. He wanted to pick his daughter up in a hug, thank her. But instinct told him to play it carefully. “That’s great. I’ll just go and change. I’m soaked with sweat. The sooner this storm breaks the better.”

“Can I get you a cool drink?”

“I’d love a lemonade, thank you.”

“Coming right up.”

G
LENN COULDN
'
T RESIST
. He rang Lola from the bathroom, hoping the noise of the running water would mask the sound of his voice. “What did you say to Ellen? Because you should hire your speech out to troubled parents the world over. She’s like a new girl.”

“I didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know.”

“You’re not going to tell me what you did say, are you?”

“No,” Lola said. “Some things are best kept secret between a great-granddaughter and her very elderly great-grandmother.”

“Thanks, Lola.”

“Any time, Glenn. Let me know how it goes. I want Ellen’s version of tonight and then I want the truth.”

“I’ll ring you tomorrow. Will you let me know the best date for her to arrive as well?”

“I’m just juggling a few things here. I’ll get back to you about that as soon as I can.”

“I owe you, Lola.”

“No, you don’t. We both love her. It was the easiest thing in the world to do.”

All evening, Glenn could see Denise and Lily watching Ellen with something like amazement. A cross between wariness and amazement, in fact.
This
was the she-devil who’d been hiding in her room, shouting at them through doors, who’d refused to come out, who’d turned down their Christmas invitation? She couldn’t have behaved better or been nicer. Her manners were impeccable. She asked questions, answered their questions. She took Lily into her room after dinner and even from the living room Glenn and Denise could hear the two of them laughing as they played something—innocent pop videos, Glenn hoped—on Ellen’s computer.

“I don’t know what you’ve done, but you should market it,” Denise said.

“I’m sorry it’s taken this long. And been so hard on you.”

“It’s been hard on everyone, I know. You’re sure she won’t join us for Christmas?”

Glenn had never been more sure of anything. Much as he loved seeing Ellen behave like the old Ellen, he knew even a mention of the island holiday could take them right back to square one. Possibly to some place even more troublesome.

There were more giggles.

“I’ll just check they’re getting on okay,” Glenn said.

Ellen and Lily had a large photo album on the bed between them and were looking at his wedding photos. Laughing at his hairdo, specifically. Glenn knew his daughter wasn’t just showing off his funny hairstyle. She was showing off her mother.

“It was the happiest day of your life, wasn’t it, Dad?”

“It was a beautiful day,” Glenn said carefully.

“Your wife was very pretty, Glenn,” Lily said politely.

“Yes, she was.”

“Lily’s mum and dad got divorced when she was only three, Dad, did you know that?”

Keep smiling, Glenn told himself. She’s trying. “I did know that, Ellen, yes.”

“I’ll bring photos of their wedding day next time I visit,” Lily said. “He looks even funnier than your dad. I only see him twice a year. He lives in America, but he’s bald now. I think he polishes his head.”

“Polishes it!”

“With furniture polish!”

The two of them shrieked with laughter again. Time to go, Glenn thought. It was a relief to return to Denise’s company.

T
WO DAYS LATER
, in her room at the motel, Lola had the rare and frankly unpleasant realization that she had nothing to do. She’d been so busy all week and now here she was, with a whole hour to herself and nothing to do in it. She ticked off her mental list. Ellen—sorted. Window display—sorted. Christmas secret—all underway.

There was nothing more to do now in regard to her Christmas guests until they started arriving. She could hardly wait. Though there was of course still the minor matter of booking the airline ticket for Ellen. Something kept stopping her from doing that, and she still wasn’t sure what it was. Sixth sense or another new hope? She’d spoken to Ellen and Glenn after the most recent dinner with Denise and Lily. It had all gone swimmingly, apparently. Ellen sounded very proud of herself and after some prodding, had confessed that Denise’s daughter was “okay.”

“Too young for me but she’s not as bad as I thought.”

“And Denise?” Lola had asked.

“Okay. But not as pretty as Mum. Or as nice. Or as funny.”

“No one ever will be,” Lola said.

Glenn had reported positive results, too. Astonishing results, in fact. Denise had apparently even asked if he was sure Ellen wouldn’t like to join them for Christmas.

“Don’t push your luck just yet,” Lola had advised. But she had tucked the idea away herself. It would mean she wouldn’t have Ellen at the motel as her Christmas assistant, but if worse came to worst, surely her guests wouldn’t mind pitching in and helping her themselves? Wouldn’t that make it even more of a Christmas to remember for them all? And really, when it came down to it, they were getting free accommodation, weren’t they? It was only fair that they do a little something to earn their keep.

There’d even been good-ish news on the Mrs. Kernaghan front. She’d taken as much credit as possible for the reworked charity shop window, even setting up an interview with the local TV station in Port Pirie. The other ladies were outraged, but Lola had doused their flames of fury.

“It’s good publicity for the shop and our Christmas packages,” she said. “That’s all that counts, no matter how and who gets the publicity.”

“But did you see her on the TV, Lola?” Kay had said. “Showing them around the shop as if she was Coco Chanel?”

More like Coco the clown, Lola had privately thought.

“And then that bit of her sitting at the computer pretending to write the note for the window!” Margaret added. “She doesn’t even know how to use the computer!”

“We’ll get more donations. More items for our packages. Focus on that, not on her,” Lola had advised.

She’d been right. The donations had doubled in quantity after the TV segment went to air. They also got something else unexpectedly. New volunteers for the shop. Whether it was the Christmas spirit kicking in, or the lure of the computer setup, Kay had reported a tenfold increase in retired people wanting to work shifts in the shop. Not just retired people, either. They’d had a few young people get in touch. Come the new year, Lola suspected she and the other ladies would be lucky to get a shift at the shop—or on the computer—at all.

The only little bugbear in Lola’s mental roll call remained her granddaughters and their still-simmering row. She hadn’t seen either of them so far that week, but she’d spoken to both. Carrie had done her usual whining about Matthew and the children but had refused to talk about Bett.

“I’ve done all I can with her, Lola. If she’s going to get huffy about anyone offering even the tiniest bit of advice, then there’s nothing I can do.”

Bett had been no better. She’d spoken in the fake cheery voice Lola knew she used only when she was in danger of bursting into tears. She’d also spoken in strange clipped sentences. How are things with the twins? Lola had asked.

“Fine! Great!”

“And Daniel?”

“Great!”

“Have you had a chance to talk?”

“Every night. It’s all great!”

Both Carrie and Bett were unhappy, Lola knew it. They were so clearly keeping their distance, not just from her, but from each other, too. It made her so sad. What would it take to get them talking to each other again? Should she lock them in a room together and not let them out until they were friends?

That was it! The solution was so obvious Lola was amazed it had taken her so long to come up with it. It was a matter of logical thinking, outlining the problems inherent in the situation and letting the solution rise slowly to the surface. Problem one. What needed to be done? Carrie and Bett brought together on a project. Problem two. What else needed to be done? The Christmas care packages assembled. Possible solution to both problems? Carrie and Bett assembling the packages together! Any obstacles? Just one. Their children. Their five children. Their five handfuls of children.

The solution? A team of experienced babysitters, of course.

Lola picked up her mobile phone and started making some calls.

Twenty minutes later, it was all organized. Her friends had agreed immediately. “Many hands make light work.” “The more the merrier.” “Five of them, five of us. It’s an equal battle.” It took her only ten minutes and two admittedly begging calls to her granddaughters to get them to agree, too.

The next morning, before the sun had turned up its heat to high, her plan was underway. There they all were—Lola, Patricia, Margaret, Joan and Kay—in the living room of Bett’s house, looking after not just Zachary and Yvette but also Carrie’s three for the day. Gazing around the room, Lola decided it looked like a social experiment—a combined nursery and an old folks’ home. She didn’t voice her thoughts, mind you. Kay in particular was sensitive about getting older.

Meanwhile, ten kilometers away, in the function room of the motel, if everything Lola had set in train was starting to unfold, Carrie and Bett were hopefully making up the first of two hundred or more Christmas boxes, finding themselves chatting, laughing, and growing closer as each minute passed …

That was the idea, anyway. Lola could only hope things were going better at the motel than they were here in babysitter land. She put her hands over her ears again as Zachary gave a loud squeal.

“What’s happened to babies these days?” Margaret said, as she jiggled a wailing George in her arms. “Mine were never as noisy as this, I’m sure of it.”

“Or as athletic. What is Bett feeding the twins? Royal jelly?” Kay asked. She was trying to change Yvette’s nappy and struggling with her wildly waggling legs. She’d also narrowly avoided an impromptu shower in a liquid other than water when she’d tried to change Zachary’s nappy ten minutes earlier. “Now I know why I only had one daughter,” she said.

Lola glanced at her watch. They’d been minding the five children for less than fifteen minutes. Just six hours and forty-five minutes to go.

She stood up with a groan. “Cup of tea, anyone?”

“T
HIS IS A JOB
for a dozen people, not two,” Carrie said sulkily, looking around the motel function room. “It’s like a supermarket in here. How on earth are we supposed to get it all done in one day? Lola made it sound as if she just needed us to do a bit of packing, not run a wholesale warehouse.”

“The sooner we get started, the sooner it’ll be done,” Bett said. She could feel Carrie mimicking and mocking her words behind her, but fought against her instinct to turn and shout at her. The atmosphere between them was already bad enough. They could at least try to get through one hour without fighting.

Bett knew what Lola was up to. Subtlety had never been their grandmother’s strong suit. The musical four years earlier had got the sisters talking again and Lola obviously thought a day packing these Christmas packages together would do the same. Wishful thinking, in Bett’s opinion. She was already steeling herself for one of Carrie’s lectures on childrearing. She’d seen the look on Carrie’s face that morning, when Carrie came to her house to drop off her children and pick up Bett.

She had done her best to tidy up, but Carrie and her X-ray vision seemed to notice every hastily shut cupboard, dirty counter, and dusty windowsill. Lola’s gang, as Bett thought of them, were fortunately already there. For ladies of a mature age, they were surprisingly giggly. If it hadn’t been so early in the morning, she’d have suspected they’d all been drinking. They’d also been very carefree about Bett’s and then Carrie’s instructions regarding their children’s needs. Lola had eventually interrupted.

“Darlings, please! Between us we’ve reared enough children to fill a football team, if unisex football teams exist. Off you go to do those packages and don’t give us a second thought. You can ring, but only twice during the day, okay? We’ll call you if anything happens. And besides, if anything does happen, Margaret’s got a first-aid certificate, haven’t you, Margaret?”

“Me? Well, I donate blood to the Red Cross—”

“So you’re not squeamish? Perfect!” Lola said. “Off you go, girls. See you at six!”

Six
P
.
M
. Many long hours away. Bett suppressed a sigh and wished she wasn’t feeling so tense, in her temples, her back, her whole body. It had been another bad night with Daniel. Both so polite to each other, on the surface everything perfectly normal, except for the fact that she felt constantly on the verge of tears and continually guilty about forcing him into going part-time. She’d tried Lola’s suggestion of a daily walk. Oh, they’d walked. They’d also fought, all the way down their country road, for a kilometer of the Riesling Trail that followed the path of the old railway line and all the way back home. There didn’t seem to be any common ground between them anymore. No safe areas of conversation. She’d tried apologizing again, tried to explain, but Daniel had interrupted.

“Bett, you’ve got your way, so now we get on with it. It’s that simple.”

“But it doesn’t feel right.”

He stopped. “So you don’t want me to go part-time in the new year now?”

“Yes, I do. I mean, no! No, I don’t.”

He started walking again. “You don’t know what you want, so you can’t expect me to know either.”