Part 8 (1/2)
It was slow going, but Ca.s.sandra didn't need to go far to realize that Nell had been trying to solve the mystery of her ident.i.ty.
August 1975. Today they brought me the white suitcase. As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was.I pretended casualness. Doug and Phyllis don't know the truth and I didn't want them to see that I was shaking. I wanted them to think only that it was an old suitcase of Dad's that he'd wanted me to have. After they'd gone, I sat looking at it for a time, willing myself to remember: who I am, where I am from. It was no use, of course, and so, at length, I opened it.There was a note from Dad, an apology of sorts, and beneath it other things. A child's dress-mine I suppose-a silver hairbrush and a book of fairy tales. I recognized it immediately. I turned the cover and then I saw her, the Auth.o.r.ess. The words came fully formed. She is the key to my past, I'm sure of it. If I find her, I will finally find myself. For that is what I intend to do. In this notebook I will chart my progress, and by its end, I will know my name and why I lost it.
Ca.s.sANDRA TURNED carefully through the moldy pages, filled with suspense. Had Nell done what she set out to do? Found out who she was? Is that why she'd bought the house? The final entry was dated November 1975 and Nell had just arrived home to Brisbane: carefully through the moldy pages, filled with suspense. Had Nell done what she set out to do? Found out who she was? Is that why she'd bought the house? The final entry was dated November 1975 and Nell had just arrived home to Brisbane: I'm going back as soon as I've tied things up here. I'll be sorry to leave my house in Brisbane, and my shop, but what does it compare with finally finding my truth? And I'm so close. I know it. Now that the cottage is mine, I know the final answers will follow. It is my past, my self, and I have nearly found it.
Nell had been planning to leave Australia for good. Why hadn't she? What had happened? Why hadn't she written another entry?
Another look at the date, November 1975, and Ca.s.sandra's skin p.r.i.c.kled. It was two months before she, Ca.s.sandra, had been deposited at Nell's place. Lesley's promised week or two had stretched on indefinitely until it turned into forever.
Ca.s.sandra set the notebook aside as realization hardened. Nell had taken up the parental reins without skipping a beat, had stepped in and given Ca.s.sandra a home and a family. A mother. And never for an instant had she let Ca.s.sandra know of the plans her arrival had interrupted.
Ca.s.sANDRA TURNED from the aircraft window and pulled the book of fairy tales from her carry-on, laid it across her lap. She didn't know what had made her so certain that she wanted to bring the book on board with her. It was the bond with Nell, she supposed, for this was the book from the suitcase, the link with Nell's past, one of the few possessions that had accompanied the little girl across the seas to Australia. And it was something about the book itself. It exercised the same compulsion over Ca.s.sandra that it had when she was ten years old and had first discovered it downstairs in Nell's flat. The t.i.tle, the ill.u.s.trations, even the author's name. Eliza Makepeace. Whispering it now, Ca.s.sandra felt the strangest s.h.i.+ver tiptoe along her spine. from the aircraft window and pulled the book of fairy tales from her carry-on, laid it across her lap. She didn't know what had made her so certain that she wanted to bring the book on board with her. It was the bond with Nell, she supposed, for this was the book from the suitcase, the link with Nell's past, one of the few possessions that had accompanied the little girl across the seas to Australia. And it was something about the book itself. It exercised the same compulsion over Ca.s.sandra that it had when she was ten years old and had first discovered it downstairs in Nell's flat. The t.i.tle, the ill.u.s.trations, even the author's name. Eliza Makepeace. Whispering it now, Ca.s.sandra felt the strangest s.h.i.+ver tiptoe along her spine.
As the ocean continued to stretch below, Ca.s.sandra turned to the first story and began to read, a story called ”The Crone's Eyes,” which she recognized from the hot summer's day long ago.
The Crone's Eyes by Eliza Makepeace Once in a land that lay far across the s.h.i.+ning sea there lived a Princess who didn't know she was a Princess, for when she was but a small child her kingdom had been ransacked and her royal family slain. It so happened that the young Princess had been playing that day outside the castle walls and knew nothing of the attack until night began its fall towards earth and she set aside her game to find her home in ruins. The little Princess wandered alone for a time, until finally she came to a cottage on the edge of a dark wood. As she knocked upon the door, the sky, angered by the destruction it had witnessed, broke apart in rage and spat fierce rain across the land.
Inside the cottage there lived a blind crone, who took pity on the girl and determined to give her shelter and raise her as her own. There was much work to be done in the crone's cottage, but the Princess was never heard to complain, for she was a true Princess with a pure heart. The happiest folk are those that are busy, for their minds are starved of time to seek out woe. Thus did the Princess grow up contented. She came to love the changing seasons and learned the satisfaction of sowing seeds and tending crops. And although she was becoming beautiful, the Princess did not know it, for the crone had neither looking gla.s.s nor vanity and thus the Princess had not learned the ways of either.
One night, in the Princess's sixteenth year, she and the crone sat in the kitchen eating their supper. ”What happened to your eyes, dear crone?” asked the Princess, who had wondered for a long time.
The crone turned towards the Princess, skin wrinkled where her eyes should be. ”My sight was taken from me.”
”By whom?”
”When I was but a maiden, my father loved me so much that he removed my eyes so I need never witness death and destruction in the world.”
”But, dearest crone, you can no longer witness beauty, either,” said the Princess, thinking of the pleasure she gained from watching her garden blossom.
”No,” said the crone. ”And I would very much like to see you, my Beauty, grow.”
”Could we not seek your eyes somewhere?”
The crone smiled sadly. ”My eyes were to be returned by a messenger when I attained my sixtieth year, but on the night ordained, my Beauty arrived with a great las.h.i.+ng storm on her heels, and I was unable to meet him.”
”Might we find him now?”
The crone shook her head. ”The messenger could not wait, and my eyes were taken instead to the deep well in the land of lost things.”
”Could we not journey there?”
”Alas,” said the crone, ”the way is far, and the road paved with danger and deprivation.”
By and by, the seasons changed, and the crone became weaker and paler. One day, when the Princess was on her way to pick apples for the winter store, she came upon the crone, sitting in the fork of the apple tree, lamenting. The Princess stopped, startled, for she had never seen the crone upset. As she listened, she realized that the crone was speaking to a solemn grey and white bird with a striped tail. ”My eyes, my eyes,” she said. ”My end approaches and my sight will never be restored. Tell me, wise bird, how will I know my way in the next world if I cannot see myself?”
Quickly and quietly, the Princess returned to the cottage, for she knew what she must do. The crone had sacrificed her eyes to provide the Princess with shelter and now must this kindness be repaid. Although she had never traveled beyond the forest rim, the Princess did not hesitate. Her love for the crone was so fathomless that if all the grains of sand in the ocean should be stacked up end to end, they would not run so deep.
The Princess woke with the first dawn of morning and wandered forth into the forest, stopping not until she reached the sh.o.r.e. There she set sail, crossing the vast sea to the land of lost things.
The way was long and hard, and the Princess was bewildered, for the forest in the land of lost things looked vastly different from that to which she was accustomed. The trees were cruel and jagged, the beasts ghastly, even the birds' songs made the Princess tremble. The more frightened she became, the faster she ran, until finally she stopped, her heart thundering in her chest. The Princess was lost and knew not where to turn. She was about to despair, when the solemn grey and white bird appeared before her. ”I am sent by the crone,” said the bird, ”to lead you safely to the well of lost things, where you will find your fate.”
The Princess was much relieved and set off after the bird, her stomach grumbling, for she had been unable to find food in this strange land. By and by, she came upon an old woman sitting on a fallen log. ”How fare you, Beauty?” said the old woman.
”I am so hungry,” said the Princess, ”yet I know not where to seek food.”
The old woman pointed to the forest and suddenly the Princess saw that there were berries hanging from the trees, and nuts growing in cl.u.s.ters on the ends of branches.
”Oh, thank you, kind woman,” said the Princess.
”I did nothing,” said the old woman, ”except to open your eyes and show you what you knew was there.”
The Princess continued after the bird, more satisfied now, but as they went the weather began to change and the winds grew cold.
By and by, the Princess came upon a second old woman sitting on a tree stump. ”How fare you, Beauty?”
”I am so cold, yet I know not where to seek warm clothes.”
The old woman pointed to the forest, and suddenly the Princess saw brambles of wild roses with the softest, most delicate petals. She coated herself with them and was much warmer.
”Oh, thank you, kind woman,” said the Princess.
”I did nothing,” said the old woman, ”except to open your eyes and show you what you knew was there.”
The Princess continued after the grey and white bird, more satisfied now, and warmer than before, but her feet began to ache, for she had walked so far.
By and by, the Princess came upon a third old woman sitting on a tree stump. ”How fare you, Beauty?”
”I am so tired, yet I know not where to seek carriage.”
The old woman pointed to the forest, and suddenly, in a clearing, the Princess saw a s.h.i.+ny brown fawn with a gold ring around his neck. The fawn blinked at the Princess, a dark, thoughtful eye, and the Princess, who was kind of heart, held out her hand. The fawn came to her and bowed his head so she might ride upon his back.
”Oh, thank you, kind woman,” said the Princess.
”I did nothing,” said the woman, ”except to open your eyes and show you what you knew was there.”
The Princess and the fawn followed the grey and white bird further and further into the dark forest, and as days pa.s.sed the Princess came to understand the fawn's soft and gentle language. As they spoke, night after night, the Princess learned that the fawn was in hiding from a treacherous hunter sent to kill him by a wicked witch. So grateful was the Princess for the fawn's kindness that she undertook to keep him safe from his tormentors.
Good intentions pave the way to ruin, however, and early next morning the Princess woke to find the fawn absent from his usual place by the fire. In the tree above, the grey and white bird twittered in agitation, and the Princess jumped quickly to her feet, following where the bird led. As she drew deeper into the nearby brambles, she heard the fawn weeping. The Princess hurried to his side and saw there an arrow in his flank.
”The witch hath found me,” spoke the fawn. ”As I collected nuts for our journey she ordered her archers to shoot me. I ran as far and as fast as I could, but when I reached this spot I could go no further.”
The Princess knelt by the fawn and so great was her distress at witnessing his pain that she began to weep over his body, and the truth and light from her tears caused his wound to heal.
Over the next days the Princess tended the fawn, and once his health was restored they continued their journey to the edge of the vast woods. When they broke finally through the rim of trees, the coastline lay before them and the glistening sea beyond.