She reached up, touching Ella’s face, studying her as if she were a road map that had to be committed to memory.
‘You were expecting someone to find you?’ Ella asked, puzzled at the way this elegant, beautiful woman was smiling at her as she kept hold of her. ‘Because of this photograph?’
‘Well, I expected it would be my daughter searching for me, not a granddaughter, but yes, I’ve half expected someone every day for the past fifty years. And yes, this is a photograph of me with my mother, taken many, many years ago.’ The woman let go of Ella’s hand only to wipe her eyes, still holding the photograph in her other hand. ‘I’m sorry, I just, I gave up hope many years ago of this ever happening. For a long time, I imagined constantly what it would be like, and then I slowly began to lose hope of ever connecting with my daughter.’
‘May I come in?’ Ella asked.
Alexandra nodded, before stepping forwards and embracing Ella, gently holding her in her arms as if she wasn’t certain whether it was the right thing to do or not. She held her for a long moment, and Ella felt her body soften, hugging her back. ‘I would very much like you to come in,’ Alexandra said when she finally let go of her. ‘It was all just so unexpected, seeing you standing there with that photograph.’
‘It was just as unexpected for me, realising that I’d somehow found my way to you,’ Ella said. ‘To the person in the photograph. I’ve been staring at it ever since I was given the box, and it drove me crazy wondering what the link to my family was.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t write something on the back of it. At the time,’ Alexandra said, glancing back at Ella over her shoulder as she walked, ‘it was all so overwhelming. I’ve second-guessed my choices for decades, wishing I could go back in time and leave something more obvious behind.’
Ella followed her into a house that looked every bit as elegant as its owner. She marvelled at the stone walls that were painted the same warm white as the exterior, with an exposed wood ceiling and floorboards to match. The wooden windows were like picture frames for the ocean view, with white drapes billowing in the breeze and adding to the luxurious, relaxed feel of the home. It was stunning.
When Ella turned, she found Alexandra watching her with a curious look on her face, but neither she nor Ella said anything straight away.
‘Please, take a seat,’ Alexandra eventually said, as she sat in one of the white chairs by the window.
Ella followed her lead and sat across from her. She’d thought so much about what to say when she reached the doorstep, but she’d planned very little after that point. It seemed almost impossible to believe that she’d actually found the woman in the picture.
‘Perhaps you can tell me how you came across this photograph,’ Alexandra said. ‘I mean, I think I know, but it’s been a very long time. Was this given to your mother many years ago?’
‘Actually, no. We only recently received a phone call, from a lawyer who represented a place named Hope’s House.’ Ella watched as Alexandra shut her eyes, nodding her head as if she was reliving a memory. ‘There was a box with my grandmother’s name attached to it, and given that she’d passed away recently, I went to collect it, thinking it was something for her estate. I’ve only been in possession of it for six weeks or so.’
‘I think you’ll find it was your mother’s name on the box,’ Alexandra said. ‘My daughter’s name. I’m the one who left it there for her.’
Ella shook her head. ‘No, that can’t be right. I’m certain that it was my grandmother who was adopted.’ She paused. ‘Could she have been your mother’s child? It just doesn’t quite make sense to me.’ There was no way it could have been her mother who was adopted. Wouldn’t she have known?
Alexandra leaned forwards in her chair. ‘I gave your mother her name, Madeline, and my only request was that her adoptive parents continue to use it,’ she said. ‘I named her when she was born, for it was a name my own mother had always loved. Perhaps you were confused, by the initials on the box?’
M James.Of course, her mother and grandmother had the same initials.
‘But—’
‘Hope refused to tell me much about her, even when I begged her for details, but the one thing she did tell me was that they’d honoured my wish and kept her name.’’
‘My grandmother’s name was Maria,’ Ella murmured. ‘That’s why we presumed that the initialMwas for her.’ Did that make this woman sitting across from her, Alexandra, her own grandmother? Her heart started to race. This was her mother’s mother. It was almost impossible to believe. ‘When I was contacted by the lawyer to say that something had been left to the estate of my grandmother, I never once thought to question that they had the correct recipient. It was for my mum all along.’ Her mother, who seemed to be the only person completely uninterested in the history of the box or what it contained.
‘I’ve thought about the contents of that little box every day for the past fifty years, wishing I’d been less cryptic with my clues.’ Tears ran freely down Alexandra’s cheeks then. ‘And not a day has passed that I haven’t prayed that my daughter would forgive me for the terrible thing I did, giving her up for adoption.’
‘My mother doesn’t know,’ Ella told her. ‘All of us, we all presumed that it was my grandmother who was adopted, that it was kept secret because of the era. But you’re so young, it must have been the early seventies when you were pregnant?’
‘It was. And I know what you’re thinking, that surely by then the world had become more progressive and young women wouldn’t have been forced to give up their babies, but I came from a very conservative family. It would have brought great shame on my father’s family if anyone had discovered that I was pregnant.’
Ella could only imagine what it must have been like. She reached into her bag and took out the sheet of music, having forgotten about it when she first arrived. ‘You left something else in the box,’ she said. ‘Something else that helped me to find my way to you.’‘The sheet of music,’ Alexandra replied, her hand hovering over her heart. ‘I can’t tell you how difficult it was to leave that behind.’
‘Please,’ Ella said. ‘Take it. It belongs to you, after all.’
Alexandra reached for the paper, sitting back in the chair and studying it, her hand raised to her mouth now as if to stifle her cries. Gabriel had told her that he wondered if the music had great sentimental meaning, whether it was for an audition or important performance, and seeing Alexandra’s reaction told her that he was most likely right.
‘A friend of mine plays for the London Symphony Orchestra,’ Ella said gently. ‘It was through him that I was slowly able to piece together who the mystery “B” was on the note. Until then, I couldn’t make head or tail of how it connected to my family.’
Ella watched as Alexandra held the worn piece of paper to her chest. ‘Bernard was always writing me notes. He was such a romantic, and whenever I was nervous he’d know just what to say, or what to write.’
‘But why this piece of music?’ Ella asked. ‘Why leave this particular piece behind?’
‘Because it meant so much to me. Because it was the last note he ever wrote for me, the last written words of encouragement, and I wanted to leave the thing that meant the most to me behind for my child.’
