Page 88 of Birds of a Feather

‘You must be excited to reunite with lover-boy,’ Jarrah said, before making kissing noises as though she was asking me the question over a water bubbler in primary school.

I rolled my eyes, but it was true. I absolutely was.

On the day after Gran’s funeral, when Nick suggested I join him in London to ‘see what happens’, I told him he was insane. But he insisted I listen to his rationale. He pointed out that Gran and Gerry had been robbed of their relationship due to time and circumstance, so we owed it to them to explore the possibility of what could happen between us. He also reminded me that on the night we spent in the pub in London I had told him travel was in my plans. At the very least, he argued, I could use London as a base to explore the rest of Europe. Then he kissed me passionately and gave me the most compelling reason of all: that he really liked me and didn’t want our time together to end. So we’d agreed that he would return to London and I would spend the next couple of months applying for a visa and lining up a job, and tidying up my life, including seeing out the possum bridge project. Then I would fly to London to start the next chapter of my life.

I was looking forward to the next stage in my career. I had secured a job with the local canal and river authority. My role would be to coordinate a project that aimed to better engage with volunteers to help restore the River Thames. The feedback I received from the recruiter was that Geoff had given such a glowing reference that he was suspicious it was made up.

My colleagues at the council had given me a lovely send-off when I left. They had ignored my pleas for my departure to be low-key. Alannah had basically kidnapped me and driven me to a pub for a surprise lunch, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I was presented with an oversized card filled with lovely handwritten messages, including from people who I didn’t think knew my name. And I was gifted a eucalyptus leaf pendant on a delicate silver chain. It was exquisite and made me feel guilty for all the times I’d shied away from contributing to office gift collections.

My phone chimed as I sat down at the family dining table, which was covered in a massive charcuterie board, featuring French cheeses and cured meat, olives, veggies and dips. The bakery had been out of baguettes, apparently, so Mum had improvised with some pizza rolls that she sliced and toasted.

I retrieved my phone from my back pocket. The message was from Nick.

Not long now … I can’t wait to see you. x

‘Bon appetite,’ Mum announced as I slipped my phone away.

‘A toast, if I may,’ Jarrah said. It wasn’t that long ago that her saying this would have evoked immense irritation. I would have assumed she was about to usurp the moment to make it about herself. However, lately, I had found Jarrah to be much less self-absorbed.

I’d finally told my family about the lotto money and my plans to share it with them on the night of Gran’s funeral. Jarrah surprised me by asking that I hold onto her share until she knew what she wanted to do with it. She admitted that life admin and, in particular, dealing with money wasn’t her strong suit. This, of course, was not a revelation, but I congratulated her for her honesty and capacity for self-reflection.

The following month, she came to me with a very professional-looking business plan that she’d prepared, printed and bound. I could tell she was proud of it. She told me a business idea had come to her as she helped Mum navigate the arduous process of preparing Gran’s house to rent out. Many of Gran’s collectables were quite valuable, and, while we didn’t want to hold on to the majority of them, Mum was reluctant to just hand them over to an op shop where they were at risk of being caught up in the other bric-a-brac. But she was overwhelmed by the prospect of selling them individually on Facebook Marketplace or Gumtree. So Jarrah proposed that her business – Jackalope Treasures – would sell the collectables of deceased estates through popular platforms, rather than at auction like other services, for a small commission.

She used the money I gave her to buy a decommissioned ambulance to cart around the wares, and she developed a website and created some marketing material. Although it turned out she had little need for advertising: since she’d opened for business she’d had as much work as she could manage through referrals she’d received from Nora the funeral director. For Jarrah, Jackalope Treasures wasn’t just about the money; she was committed to finding the perfect home for things that had been cherished by their previous owners. Surviving relatives seemed to find comfort in knowing that their loved ones’ prized possessions were going to be appropriately appreciated by those who bought them. And the nature of her business meant her work was flexible, which suited her new-found passion: ‘forest bathing’ (which I had long called ‘hiking’). We’d even been on a couple of ‘forest bathing’ sessions together.

Elijah spent the money I gave him as soon as I transferred it; he and his bandmates used it to lay down an album. I was the first person he called when he found out they’d been chosen to be featured on Triple J.

Mum and Dad refused the money altogether. I insisted I wanted to do something for them – it wasn’t like I’d earned it – so we compromised that I would pay for them to come and visit me in London once I was settled.

Now Jarrah stood and raised her glass. ‘I think I can speak on behalf of everyone here,’ she said, ‘when I say that, even though we’re going to miss you like crazy, we are so happy for you. We love you, and we adore Nick, and we know the two of you are going to be so happy together.

‘And we know how far you’ve stepped out of your comfort zone to quit your job, sell your new car, rent out your place and move overseas. But, for what it’s worth, I think you’re absolutely doing the right thing.’

There was a time that hearing Jarrah say she approved of my life choices would have made me question them intently. But it had been Jarrah who I’d first consulted about my plans to move. I thought I needed a shove in the direction in which I wanted to go, and I knew she was the one to do it. She encouraged me to open myself to new experiences in a way that felt supportive, and not antagonistic like it used to. And, as she pointed out, trying new things had worked pretty well thus far. Although I drew the line at joining a nudist book club in London that she’d heard about.

‘Thanks Jarrah, that means a lot,’ I said. ‘I will miss you all, but I’m excited for the future. Nervous. But excited.’ I took a sip of champagne. ‘Also I have some other news to share with you.’

Dad slapped the table. ‘You’re pregnant,’ he shouted exuberantly.

Mum gasped.

‘Goodness no. No, nothing like that. I got an email today from Emily Lim – the project leader who was with Gran the day she died.’ I looked to Mum. ‘It turns out that the orchid Gran found was a new species. And they’ve decided to call it Caladenia eliseae, or “Elise’s orchid”.’

Mum’s eyes filled with tears, as had mine.

‘Well,’ she said, her words choked. ‘That would have made her very proud indeed.’ She rose from the table and retrieved a package wrapped in green tissue paper. ‘We were going to give you this after lunch, but now seems like the perfect time,’ she said, passing me the package.

I tore open the paper and looked down at Gran’s Gouldian finch print.

‘We thought you might like to take it with you,’ Jarrah said. Dad and Elijah smiled at me.

I clutched the frame to my chest. The ache of her being gone was still visceral. But, like Elizabeth Gould, Gran had left her mark on science. And, thanks to her, and the twists and turns of fate, the trajectory of my life had been altered, and my heart was open to seeing where it took me.

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