The Photograph E-Book

Andrew P. Jackson

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

What if you knew you were dying? What would you do to lessen the grief of your loved ones?

Harry knows his time is coming, and with his passing will leave his daughter, Trixie, all alone in the world. Trixie had already lost her Mum shortly after she was born, and her sister had been taken violently by her abusive husband. 

But there were happier times. Much happier times, back when it was just the three of them. Harry had shared his own passion for photography with them and would take his girls on trips called “photo hunts”, challenges they would set themselves, to capture the one perfect shot that would win the day.

Harry is sending his little girl on one final adventure, solving the clues, capturing the photos and ultimately discovering a truth neither of them could ever have imagined.

The Photograph will keep you guessing with every turn of the page as you share Trixie’s journey, to follow her father’s footsteps, to learn of the man she never knew and a future she could never have imagined.
Discover “The Photograph” for yourself, and be swept away on an adventure of a lifetime, 30 years in the making.

Leseprobe

Andrew P. Jackson

The Photograph

A father's Goodbye is a Daughter's Discovery

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

The Photograph

The Photograph

By Andrew P. Jackson

© Copyright 2018 Andrew P. Jackson

For My Children

Jessica, Corey, Tristan, Teegin, and our own little Monkey, Taylah

Who have taught me, that besides Love,

Hope is the most valuable emotion to hang on to.

Never let it go.

Prologue

On a mountain top overlooking Trinity Lake in upstate California, there is a viewing platform that, if stood upon at just the right moment, would give the viewer the most amazing spectacle as the sun broke over the distant horizon, its reflection sparkling off the crystal-clear waters of the lake far below. On this fine spring morning, when the light had just taken on that ever-brightening tinge of sapphire, signalling the approaching end to another night, a young girl stood anxiously next to her father, holding his camera in her hands, her face not quite tall enough to see over the handrail. The camera looked much too big for her small fingers and the neck strap sat taught across her shoulders. Her sister stood nearby, her new camera sitting atop its tripod, her hands firmly holding onto the remote shutter release her dad had set up. Harry Bellingham wore an expression on his face that spoke more than just “I'm happy to be here”. It said more than “I am proud to be your father”. What his expression conveyed in volumes was that he was proud that his girls were happy. Samantha had just turned 9 the previous day and had been anxiously asking for a camera for her birthday for the past 5 months.

“Please Daddy. I know I can be responsible with it,” she would say almost nightly when he tucked her in to bed. Trixie would hear them from her room next door and would often tell her father that he should consider it.

“She is very responsible, Daddy,” she would tell him, backing her sister to him. He loved how they were with each other. Like best friends. He had done it tough since their mum passed just after Trixie was born. She had turned 7 the month before and the past 6 years had been the toughest of his life. But he was trying his hardest and sharing his passion for photography with them had brought them closer together and closer to each other. Samantha had finally received her first real camera yesterday and he had tried his hardest to hold his tears in as she tore the wrapping from the box the previous night.

Samantha had carefully unpacked it, then shared the excitement with Trixie, holding the box above her head like a fight-winning prize fighter, finally victorious. They had sat on the floor facing each other, carefully unboxing it, taking each component out, inspecting it then handing it back and forth between each other. The instructions and the warranty card they had handed to their Dad, a serious look on Sami’s face as she watched him tuck them into pocket.

“Those we send back to the people that make the camera. Just in case there was something wrong with it,” he had said to them, and he smiled a little when he saw Sami’s expression change a little, a deep concerned line appearing across her forehead at the thought of her camera having something wrong with it.

She now stood in the predawn light, wrapped in a windbreaker and beanie, looking out over the lake below them, proudly holding the shutter release, the camera ready for action. Harry had set the camera with the right settings, had Sami take some sample shots then had checked the images with both girls. He had done the same to his own then much to Trixie's surprise, slung the neck strap around her neck, her eyes lighting up as he handed her the big Canon. She held it tight to her chest, her Cheshire grin only eclipsed by her father's above her. She loved her Dad. And she loved her sister. And now, standing on the mountain top in what seemed to her to be like the middle of the night was what a 7-year-old would remember as magical when she would look back on this moment in the years to come.

“Bet you can't take a photo of the sun coming up,” Sami suddenly whispered to her sister.

“I bet you can't take a photo of the sun coming up over the water,” she had replied.

“And I bet you can't take a photo of the sun coming up over the water with a bird flying by,” Trixie whispered back.

“Sounds like a challenge,” Harry had said to them and then looked toward the horizon, the sky beginning to show the tell-tale signs of an impending dawn. The sky began to lighten from the dark ocean blue to light purple to a dull yellow then a bright orange. A couple of clouds drifting in the sky seemed to become emblazoned with fiery orange, a deep almost red around their edges.

“Get ready, girls.” Harry whispered to the girls and they both focused in the distance, their cameras at the ready. “Here it comes,” he finally said, kneeling down between them, and the first twinkle of sunshine came rushing over the land, the lake beginning to reflect rays of cheerful yellow of its almost mirror surface. Samantha had begun clicking, her look intense, her eyes filled with joy. Trixie was about to start snapping when she heard the cry of an eagle in the distance, somewhere below them. She scanned the land below, trying to find it. It cried again, a little closer and Trixie saw, with amazement, that it was a big bald eagle, rising above the waters of the lake. She pointed, found it in her view-finder, half pressed the button to focus it, then pressed it completely, the camera whirring into life, snapping repeatedly, 3, 4, 5 pictures. When she had taken enough, she jumped up and down.

“I got it. I got it, Daddy,” she cried, overjoyed. “Sami, I got the bird. And the sunrise. And the lake.” Harry reached for his camera, turned it over and pressed the playback button, the pictures popping into view. The third one turned out to be her “money shot”. The lake sitting in the background, the sun roaring to life off to one side, and there, right in the middle of the frame, with its wings spread wide, floated a proud eagle. Trixie hooted a little when she saw it, jumping again.

“Beginners luck,” Sami had replied, but put her arm around her little sister. Harry stood, looked at his girls and smiled, that proud expression never leaving his face. What ran through his mind at that moment was the realisation that he was on the right track, raising the girls the way he was supposed to. They loved each other and he loved them. Trixie looked up at her Dad grinning and he gave her a thumbs up. She had the look of someone that had just won the Nobel prize. She was proud. She felt accomplished and above all she felt happy.

They had stayed on that mountain top, filling their memory cards, until the sun stood high on the far horizon. It was a memory that they would all look back on with fondness, the three of them, their family, doing what they had loved the most. Being together and capturing memories. Trixie stood proud, the victor of the first, of what would become their “photo hunts”, her grin stretching as wide as her little shoulders, with the tragedies that would unfold before her still many years into her future.

Chapter 1: The Delivery

“Trixie, it's for you!” her roommate shouted from the hall way. She had been so engrossed in her novel, that for a moment, she didn't hear Pam at all. “Trix!”

“Coming,” she replied, adding the final couple of words to the paragraph she had been typing. The book had been coming along well, and when Trixie entered the zone, the point where the living world ceased to exist, and her imagination ran wild, making her fingers dance across the keyboard, trying to grab her attention took effort; effort that Pam had become accustomed to over the past 6 months.

“It's a delivery for you,” Pam said as they pass each other in the hall.

“Thanks Hun.” Trixie opened the door to greet the delivery man.

“Trixie Bellingham?”

She nodded, curious about the large white envelope he was holding. He handed her an iPad.

“Sign here please. Your finger is fine.” She nodded again, taking the iPad and signing her name.

Once finished, they trade; envelope for iPad, as well as a smile. He doesn't look much older than her, she thought, and apart from the weird 80's moustache he was trying to wear, she found him cute. It had been almost a year now since she broke it off with her fiancé, Ryan. More than enough time staring at the bottom of an empty ice cream container. Being cheated on does that to a person. Especially with your best friend, as is so often the case.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping back into the house, one last smile as she closed the door.

She bolts it back to her room, inquisitively looking at the envelope. It's one of the big ones, A4, white, and curiously with no return address. She tore it open and pulled from it a single sheet of paper.

There was no writing on the sheet at all, instead, a small silver USB taped to one side. She peeled it off, dropping the envelope to inspect the USB. There were no visible markings or logos. It was a shiny chrome, resembling one purchased at any reputable office supply warehouse. She inserted the stick into her laptop and waited for it to load. She opened the drive directory and clicked on the e: drive. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name of the USB: Monkey. It had been her Father's pet name for her since he saved her from a nasty fall when she was 2.

He had come into the kitchen early one morning to find Trixie hanging from the top of the door frame. She had grabbed the door handle, lifted herself up, then reached for the coat holder which was screwed into the middle of the door a little further up. She had managed to stretch her arm far enough to grab hold of it, then used the door handle as a foothold. Once she had a firm hold of the coat holder, she reached higher and found the door frame, wide enough for her fingers to hook behind. Her dad came into the kitchen just as she was about to let go and fall to the ground. He caught her by the sleeve of her jumper, and surely saved her from a broken ankle or worse. Harry Bellingham had discovered that his 2-year-old daughter was a climbing enthusiast, labelling her a monkey from that day onward. It had further matured to include the backyard tree, the house roof, the garage roof, the school roof, as well as an annual membership to the local climbing centre as soon as she was old enough.

The USB contained a single file. A video file, which she clicked. She felt her pulse in her temples and noticed her hand shaking, trying to aim the mouse on the Play button. When she managed to double click it, a video screen opened, showing an empty desk in an office she recognised. It was her late father's. A tall, grey-haired man came into view and sat on the edge of the desk, looking straight into the camera.

“Hello Monkey. Please forgive me sweetheart, I never meant for things to end the way they did, but I couldn't live with myself knowing that I was the reason Bud hurt your sister so bad.”

Trixie raised her hand to her open mouth, tears welling in her eyes, slowly running down her cheek. The shock of seeing her father in the video overwhelmed her a little, what he just said shocked her even more.

“I couldn't let him get away with what he had done to our Sami, and I needed to be sure that he could never hurt anyone again. I know how much of a shock it must have been for you, but I know that you are one tough little cookie. Your mum didn't just give you her wonderful looks, Sweetheart, but also her sharp tongue and a character no-one could push around.”

Trixie paused the video and sobbed into her hand, her tears blocking her vision. She wiped her eyes, making herself stop.

Her father had died almost a year before, in very peculiar circumstances. The police ruled it a murder, but certain parts of it never made sense to Trixie. They conducted their investigation, and in the end had concluded that the murder come about after a string of tragic consequences, the final ending leaving two people dead. Her father’s words now contradicted what they had found, or rather supported it, but the other way.

She got herself under control, reached forward and restarted the video.

“I can't imagine how tough the past year must have been for you, to lose us the way you did. But believe me when I say I love you, Sweetheart. I couldn't let that monster do what he did to Samantha, to anybody else's child.”

He paused, wiping one eye and fixed his collar. “I am so proud of the young woman you have grown into. I know that your mum would be just as proud. You have come so far with your writing, and not such a bad photographer either, just like your old man.”

His gaze fixed on something off camera. After a few seconds, he continued. “Do you remember those trips we used to take to Yellowstone, and we used to go on those long walks with our cameras? We used to write down things on bits of paper that the others would have to try and photograph. Remember? Photo hunts, we called them. You and Sami always tried to outdo each other with the hardest possible thing you could imagine. A deer jumping through water, or a rainbow, yet we always managed to find something by the end of the trip that filled the quota. If there is a heaven, I cannot picture a better place that I would love to spend eternity, running around Yellowstone with my girls. The smiles on your faces.”

He struggled again, coughing, then smiled into the camera and continued. “Trixie, there is something I would like you to do. The trip that I took before you were born, the one to Australia where I met your mum. It was my trip of a lifetime. I was just a kid, younger than you are now. I met the most amazing people on that trip. I felt so in tune with mother nature and I also fell in love. I have “arranged” a final hunt for you, a final photo hunt from me to you. It's kind of like a goodbye gift to my little girl.”

He stood, took a step toward the camera and smiled. “Ready for one final journey with the old man? Your car is already waiting for you outside. It will take you to the airport. Mike Penfold has helped in arranging your visa and passport, they are in the car as well. This will be fun.”

The video ended and Trixie stared at the screen, tears streaming down her cheeks. Pam walked in, sees Trixie and goes to her.

“Hey, you OK? What's wrong?”

Trixie pointed at the screen, wiping her eyes, and in a trembling voice said, “It's my Dad.”

“Your Dad?” Pam asked. She looked at the screen, and pressed the play button once more, replaying the clip.

As it finished a second time, Pam walked to the window.

“Hey, that delivery guy is still outside,” she exclaimed, pointing to the road. Trixie walked over to the window and looked out. The car the delivery guy has driven up in was still parked at the kerb. The driver looks up and smiles again. He sheepishly waved at her. She gave him a half-hearted thumbs up and stepped away from the window.

“My Dad always had these crazy impulses, where we would be sitting around on a Saturday afternoon one minute, then driving to another state the next. This is so him,” she said, hesitantly smiling.

Her phone rang, and she answered it. “Hello?”

“Trixie, it’s Mike Penfold. How are you doing?” Mike had been her father’s lawyer for as long as she could remember. He was the person who broke the news of her father’s death to her and had helped her with the necessary arrangements for the funeral. He had also taken care of the will reading and having the house signed over into her name. He had been a good friend to Harry Bellingham for the better part of 40 years, after meeting in Junior High.

“Trixie?” he asked again.

“Yes Mr. Penfold, sorry. How are you?”

“I'm good. I'm sure you're a little surprised by your special delivery just now. Your father wanted to share something special with you and had spent many months planning this little adventure for you.”

He broke off and said something to someone else probably standing in his office. “Sorry Trixie, my secretary. Anyway, your dad spent quite some time putting this trip together and I think you are in for one hell of an adventure. There is a plane ticket for you in the car outside for a direct flight to Sydney onboard a Qantas plane, scheduled for take-off at 7:45 tonight. You have a couple of nights’ accommodation at the Sofitel in Sydney upon arrival, and there is a driver scheduled to pick you up at the airport. Any questions?”

Her skin rippled, the butterfly taking flight in her stomach. “When did my Dad do all this? I mean, he's been gone almost a year.”

“He told me about it maybe six months before he died. He had just returned from a trip he took himself, probably organising things for you while he was there.”

She remembered moments during the past couple of years when her father seemed to disappear for days, sometimes weeks on end. She figured at the time that he just needed some space with his grief just as she did.

“Mr. Penfold?”

“Yah?”

“Did my dad, I mean, he just said that-“

“Maybe it’s best we just let things stay buried, Trix. Do you understand?” He sounded sincere, almost apologetic to her, and she understood. Whatever reason, whatever steps he had taken, whatever secrets he had, had died with him and should stay there.

“Thank you, Mr. Penfold,” she finally said.

“You have my number, Trixie. Call me if you need anything.” There was a click as he hung the phone up, leaving her in silence.

She walked to the window and looked out. It was 3.40pm.

“That is amazing,” Pam said suddenly from behind her. Trixie turned to look at her, still bewildered at the events unfolding.

“Spur of the moment trip to a foreign country. Why not? Pretty normal, right?” She began to smile, the idea finally taking hold of her, easing her apprehension.

“You have time before your book deadline, don't you?” Pam asked, already taking the pink suitcase from the walk-in closet.

“Yes, but I can always work on it on my travels, although I will send my Editor an email letting her know what's happening. I might take a month or so, you know, so I don't have to rush. Is this really happening?” she giggled a little.

“Guess so. That was your Dad, yeah? And you know the other guy that called, so it's pretty legit, yeah? Sometimes surprises are meant to...you know...surprise.” That made her giggle again, more gleefully this time and she began to pack.

She spent about 20 minutes packing, talking to Pam and trying to make herself believe what just happened. Her Dad must have planned for this very moment, because it was the first time in almost a year that she had some spare time. Her new book wouldn't need to be ready for a few more months and her finances were pretty much sorted, a good thing for someone as young as she was.

“Want me to come?” Pam suddenly asked her, and for a moment, Trixie considered.

“Could you? At such short notice?”

“I'm not sure but my passport is active. Just be a case of getting the right visa, yeah?”

“And a seat on the plane.”

She almost said yes, but something inside her told her not to. Maybe not for the moment anyway. “It's OK. Thank you, but I think maybe this is something my Dad wanted me to do on my own.”

Pam hugged her and then pulled back, looking at her.

“Just promise me that if you need me to come, I will be there in a heartbeat.”

Trixie hugged her again and thanked her. She finished packing and grabbed her suitcase. Before she walked out of the house, she headed to the living room, to the mantle where her Dad’s urn sat. Trixie looked at it, then reached out and touched it lightly with one finger.

“What have you done, Daddy?” she asks questioningly, quietly. She ponders for a moment then turns and walks out.

Pam walked her to the car and as they approached, the guy got out and opened the back door.

“I can take that,” he said, and reached for her suitcase. She let go and he took it around the back. Trixie turned to Pam and they hugged it out one last time.

“Wow. How exciting,” Pam said, and felt genuine jealousy, laughing a little at the emotion she felt as Trixie jumped in the car and opened the window. She leant out and wished Pam good bye, waving at her as the car began to roll down the road.

“Call me when you land,” were her final words, and then she was gone. Pam was standing in the middle of the road as the car disappeared around the bend.

Shortly after take-off, Trixie took something out of her phone case, an old square photo that her dad had carried for many years. It was one of the few photos she had of her Mum, and was taken the day she was born, by one of the nurses on duty at the time.

The photograph was of her Mum, lying in a hospital bed, holding a baby wrapped tightly in a blanket. Her. Standing next to the woman was her Dad, and sitting on the bed next to her Mum was Sami, 2 years old.

She looked at the photo for a few minutes, missing them more at that moment than she had in the past year or so. As the plane reached its cruising altitude, Trixie reclined her chair a little and closed her eyes. She was grateful there was no one sitting next to her and appreciated the space.

She began to think about her sister, Samantha, who died some 4 years before, at the hands of her husband. She recalled the pain and guilt her father had felt, being the person who initially introduced the pair.

Bud was a fellow firefighter and was only a couple of years older than Sami. They had what you’d call a whirlwind romance. Trixie often came home to find Bud’s black Camaro parked on the front lawn, Sami and Bud making out in Sami’s bedroom. She didn’t have a good feeling about him, something didn’t seem quite right to her, and as one of her good friends had once said, a woman should always trust her gut. But Sami was happy, very happy, and Trixie didn’t want to get in the way of that.

They were married within the year and her sister was so happy, planning babies and building a home. They rented a house not too far and would catch up regularly for weekend barbeques and get-togethers.

On a few occasions, Sami asked her to come along on a double date if Trixie was seeing someone at the time, and it was during those dates that Trixie noticed his drinking. He would drink hard and fast, often becoming loud, but what Trixie remembered most was his tendency to become aggressive.

On one occasion, she asked her friend, Paul, to come along. They were seeing each other on and off for a few weeks, nothing too serious. They all caught up at a local grill house called The Chook Pen.

The waiter brought their meals out, and accidentally knocked a glass of wine over, spilling into Sami’s lap. Bud jumped to his feet, grabbed the waiter by the collar and asked him, ‘just what the fuck he was doing’. The waiter looked no older than 18 and Bud was a good head taller than him. The waiter apologised profusely as Bud shook him, Sami pleading with Bud to let him go, that she was fine. Paul reached out, grasping Bud's arm, telling him to calm down. Bud suddenly released the waiter, and grabbed Paul by the throat, his other hand flying toward his head. Paul managed to weave and pull away, Bud’s fist grazing his left ear. He asked Bud what his problem was, and Bud just put both hands up, saying it was all good man. He sat back down, grabbed his glass, and finished his beer.

Trixie looked at Paul and Sami. Sami sat down, touching Bud's hand, telling him it was OK baby, but he pushed her away. Instead, he called for a waiter to get him a refill. Paul looked at Trixie and she mouthed the word sorry to him. He shrugged, and they sat down again.

After the meal, Paul drove Trixie home, and she never heard from him again.

The next day Trixie noticed fresh bruises on Sami’s upper arm, dark fingers that wrapped around her small upper arm. Trixie questioned her about the bruises, but Sami said she just walked into a door, probably because she had had too much to drink. She would walk into a lot of doors in the months to come.

Trixie had never felt more anger than at that moment, knowing a man was punching on her sister, hurting her. She went outside to find Bud, who was working on his car, as usual. He was leaning under the bonnet and reaching into the engine bay, grease smudges all over his shirt. Trixie noticed a hammer on the fender, picked it up, and smashed it down on the fender, leaving a smiling round dent. Bud lurched up, surprised, and almost lost his footing, but steadied himself with one hand grabbing the raised hood.

He ducked just in time as the hammer came swinging around again, hungry for blood. It caught his arm on the way through, and he yelped in pain. Trixie had murder in her eyes and when he met her gaze, for the minutest of moments, it scared him.

As she brought the hammer back around a third time, Bud caught it, and snatched it out of her grip, tossing it aside. He began to grin as he held her wrist, then grabbed the back of her head, clutching a full hand of her hair, as he began to forcibly shake her.

“Bitch!” he screamed as he shook her. She swung her free hand wildly, her claws ready to carve up his face.

“You leave her alone, asshole!” she screamed back, trying to yank her hand free. He was still shaking her head, screaming.

“Bitch! You're gonna pay for that. You're gonna...”

Chapter 2: Sydney

“Wake up. Miss. Miss Bellingham, wake up.” Trixie awoke suddenly, her cheeks wet with tears, and saw an air hostess standing over her, shaking her. Trixie looked up at her, confused. “You were crying in your sleep, Miss, and shouting.”

Trixie looked around and saw people staring in the darkened cabin. One lady shook her head as she turned to face the other way, putting her head down on a pillow.

“I'm sorry. I was dreaming.”

“Bad one, huh?” the hostess asked. “Can I get you a drink or something?” Trixie nodded, sat up and wiped her face. It felt wet, almost soaked. How long had she been crying, she wondered. She unbuckled her seat belt and stepped into the aisle, a couple of people still staring at her. She tried to smile at one as she walked past, heading for the bathroom.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, the air hostess, Eileen, according to her name tag, was holding a cup of hot chocolate.

She handed it to Trixie, and said, “I used to suffer from nightmares, and a nice hot chocolate use to help me get straight back to sleep.” Her smile was as warm as the cup Trixie was now holding. Trixie sipped, the sweet warmth filling her mouth. Trixie thanked her, smiled, and went back to her seat. She looked out of the window and could see lights dotting the landscape far below. Eileen came past a short time later and took the empty cup.

“Better?” she asked.

Trixie smiled, giving her a thumbs up. She sat back and looked out the window, listening to the engines rumble. And when she closed her eyes again a short time later, she slipped into a sleep that held no nightmares, only her, Sami, and their Dad, singing as they drove along a highway long forgotten.

“Good morning, Passengers, this is your Captain speaking. We are about to commence our descent into Sydney. If you have a look out the right-side windows, you will see the beautiful Blue Mountains on the horizon. Certainly, a wonderful sight from this height. The cabin crew will come around shortly for any rubbish you wish to dispose of, and I remind all passengers to please return your tables back into the seat in front of you, position your seats back to their upright positions, put your seat belts on, and to please remain seated until we have safely landed. I would also like to thank you for travelling with us today and on behalf of everyone here at Qantas, have a pleasant stay.”

Trixie opened her eyes and turned to look. Her eyes adjusted to the bright light that came flooding in as she slid the window blind up. She turned to look out the left side and was blinded by the bright rays flooding in through the windows. She closed her eyes for a minute, then looked out her own. She saw a small city far below. Looking toward the horizon, she could make out some mountains. Not tall ones, like when her Dad took her and her sister to Oregon; but they were mountains alright. She tried to follow their course south, to see where they ended, but she couldn't. They seemed to go on forever. She closed the book still laying in her lap, a Stephen King novel about time travel and J.F.K. She always had a soft spot for time travel. She slid it in the back of the seat in front of her, making a mental note not to forget it.

“Any rubbish, Love?” the Air Hostess asked as she made her rounds.

“No, thank you,” she replied, smiling.

Thirty minutes later, she disembarked the plane, walking down a long dark corridor, her carry-on bag swinging from one shoulder, the Stephen King novel safely tucked into it, and entered Sydney Airport. It was busy. There were hundreds of people walking around, some shouting, some talking, and a couple signing to each other. She gazed at them for a second. Signing had always fascinated her, and Trixie had often thought about learning it.

She continued towards the luggage carousel and waited for her bag to appear. She was nervous, scared almost. She had flown before, travelled to other countries even, but never alone. She tried to imagine her father standing where she stood, 30 years before, waiting for his bag just as she waited. The thought soothed her a little, and she smiled. She saw her bag, picked it up and made her way to customs. The process went swiftly, and a short time later she was making her way down an escalator toward the exit. Trixie had no idea where she was headed but had made a mental plan to get a taxi, be dropped at her hotel and figure out the next step from there. There was a line of people standing at the bottom of the escalator, a few of them holding signs. She had seen this before and often wondered about the lucky people that received such an extravagant service.

She was about to take out her mobile and text Pam when her eyes froze. Standing amongst the people was a small lady, old, maybe early 70's. In one hand, she held a cardboard sign and written on the sign was a single word: Monkey. It seemed as though the lady was looking at her, and as Trixie reached the bottom of the Escalator, the woman stepped towards her.

“G'day, Love. Welcome to Australia. Geez, you look just like him; certainly have his eyes.” The lady reached out with one hand and continued, “I'm Gladys. Your dad asked me to pick you up and give you a ride.” Trixie shook the lady's hand. It felt warm, gentle.

“My dad?” Trixie asked, surprised.

“Yeah, last year when he came and saw me. Dunno how he found me after all these years, but he did. Come on, Love. Let's get to the car. I'm sure you got a million questions. I do too. Let's go.” She reached for Trixie's bag but Trixie, pulled it away, smiling.

“No, I've got it.” She wasn't going to allow a senior citizen to carry her bag when she had two perfectly fine arms herself. Trixie tried to think back to the previous year. There were times when either her, or her Dad had taken off, gone on their own little trips and adventures. It wasn’t that they were distant from each other, just both understanding the other one needing their own space to deal with the grief of losing Sami. She recalled a vague memory of him disappearing for around a month. A business trip he had called it. He had been a retired firefighter and the only business he had ever conducted was declaring his tax at the end of the financial year. He did have an interest in a transport business operated by an old college friend and Trixie figured it had been something to do with that.

“You OK, Love?” Gladys asked. She snapped back, nodding.

She followed Gladys between dozens of people. The old lady seemed to duck and weave in and out of the crowds with the grace of a ballerina, almost dancing. She had trouble keeping up a couple of times but eventually Gladys lead them outside, across a road, down more stairs and into an elevator in a parking station.

When they reached Gladys's car a short time later, a white Toyota Corolla, Trixie was glad to finally set her suitcase down. Gladys unlocked the doors and opened the hatch to put the suitcase in.

“Feels like you have bricks in here,” she laughed. She headed around to the driver's side and hopped in. Trixie hopped in and was greeted with the smell of strong bubble-gum. An air freshener was dangling from the centre mirror, doing its job well. Gladys started the car, reversed out and headed to the exit. When they were driving along a busy road a short time later, Gladys began to talk.

“You know, I don't know how your dad managed to find me after all these years. Probably with some good detective work, I reckon. Do you know that I met him about 30 years ago? I was sitting at the airport in my taxi, waiting for the next fare to hop in. The next fare happened to be him. I still remember it like it was yesterday.” She turned to Trixie and smiled. “He was such a handsome man. We spent a few days together. I took him to see some sights. He was always carrying that camera of his. And he loved to photograph everything. Click, click, click. Nonstop. Do you take photos too?”

“Every chance I get,” Trixie answered, patting the bag sitting on her lap. She had been a keen photographer for as long as she can remember.

“Just like your father then.”

“Gladys, did my dad tell you anything else, other than to pick me up from the airport?”

“He certainly did. He asked me to give you this.” She reached down beside her and took an envelope out from the door pocket. She handed it to Trixie. It was plain, white with a single word on the front: Monkey. Trixie felt a butterfly begin to unfurl its wings in her stomach as she tore the envelope open. A single page was inside. She took it out and began to read.

Hello Sweetheart. Welcome to Sydney, Australia. This was my first stop off during my trip and I had the most amazing time. Gladys was also my first “chaperone” during my stay here, and for the four days I spent here, Gladys became my tour guide. She will take you to your hotel. I've booked you into the Sofitel. I hope you like it. It's a little more extravagant than where I stayed but I'd like my little girl to spend the first night in style. Anyway. Down to business.