Finding Izzy Read online

  Later that morning, he walked sheepishly back into his father’s workshop where they were working on a special cabinet for Izzy’s twenty-first present to hold all of her trophies and medals for swimming she had brought from the UK. She asked Ruth and Marco some months ago if she brought them with her could she store them in what used to be the guest-room, her room when she stayed on holidays from Rebecca’s house. Tim had finished all the French polishing in the last few weeks so there wasn’t much more to be done. Gramps was working with his dad.

  Tim was so pleased to see him. “Heard you had an accident with a sauce bottle,” said his Pa. Tim said because of the sauce trouble he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to go to the party. Tim said to his gramps, “I think if I am allowed to go the party, I think I should sit with you and Gran.”

  His father smiled at him, “Gramps and I had just decided that.”

  Gramps was admiring his handiwork on the cabinet and told Tim, “You’ve done a mighty fine piece of work.” He looked at his dad and his gramps, they looked so alike.

  “Thanks Gramps, it is special because it is for Izzy, no I mean Isabella.”

  *

  The next morning, after the party, Tim got up early, and taking his mother’s largest platter, worked with all the fruit and bits and pieces from the pantry. He created a picture for Izzy that said Happy 21st Birthday at the bottom. He wanted to put it at her place at the table, so she would see it when she came to breakfast. When it was completed, he put it on the table with a little handwritten note that said, ‘Sorry about the sauce Izzy, it was an accident’. Then because the house was quiet, and no one was up, he hopped in the pool for a swim.

  After a shower, he came downstairs to find everyone excited by his handiwork. Isabella took photos with her camera. Julia gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, “Baby bro, that is so clever and perfect.” His father took a photo too and said he was very proud. David thought it was pretty good and his mother was so impressed she said she’d have to get him into her artist’s studio downstairs a bit more. Tim didn’t take that seriously as she didn’t like to be disturbed when she was painting. What embarrassed him the most was that Izzy kissed him on the lips and said Thank you. He remembers his face went bright red.

  When thinking about life, remember this: No amount of guilt can change the past. And no amount of anxiety can change the future. Anon

  Chapter 1

  ‘Magari and the ’Girl Triangle’

  Magari, that magical Italian word that can mean ‘I wish’, ‘I desire’, ‘maybe’

  It had been a long, quite draining morning. She couldn’t find the right inspiration. Isabella had been hunched over the large table for several hours examining photos and text for the mock-up of her newest catalogue for ‘Magari’. It just simply wasn’t coming together.

  “This is frustrating, what a waste of the morning,” she got up and stretched, gazing out the window. The views didn’t even have their usual calming effect. The weather outside looked as gloomy as she felt.

  Isabella is the owner of the exciting and successful gallery ‘Magari’ featuring ceramic and glass works sourced locally and abroad. ‘Magari’ is nestled into and onto the crest of a hill, a beautiful location, peaceful by day, stunning by night. The gallery exhibition openings held in the evening are magical events. It had been her dream to develop the gallery with the aim of showing ‘one of a kind’ items, both antique and new, sourced locally and abroad. Pieces of ceramic or glass coveted as art; pieces, people would fall in love with, and buy as statements for their living or working spaces.

  The gallery, a purpose-built warehouse style building, has been open for just over four years. The Architect designed warehouse is light and bright. A major feature, the clerestory windows in the roof arch, have areas spilling with light, the glass pieces reflecting the light side by side with highly glazed ceramic pieces gleaming in colour and perfection. The windows, tall from floor to ceiling, give wonderful views of the magic of the Australian Bush.

  The forms and shapes of the exterior of the building blend into the tall gums and their soft greys and muddy greens. The entrance, just to one side but with a full view of the carpark, is covered in lush greenery and guarded by concrete cast English fire-dogs that belonged to her parents.

  Displaying many Murano and M’dina glass collectibles in the gallery, these are items from overseas juxtaposed in this beautiful environment with artworks created by Australian artisans. Many other art glass items such as the cool blue green Aqua glass from Bath in the UK, and some Scottish Art Glass millefiori works also feature. The ceramics imported mainly from Italy, the Cinque Terre, Tuscany and the Amalfi coast are displayed with Spanish ceramics glazed in a riot of colour so different to the cool greens and almost greys of celadon works from Asia.

  The vision for the quarterly catalogue is to produce a reference book featuring items in the gallery and their provenance rather than just a list of items for sale and the price-tags. Isabella developed the demanding brief wanting pages filled with design ideas, including photos showing various pieces ‘in situ’ in houses and corporate settings. She also includes articles about glass creation and glazing techniques together with features on architecture and interior design. It is a booklet to be enjoyed, not simply a price list.

  Julia, one of two close friends, whose father, architect Marco Martinelli, designed the building, would normally be her partner in creativity as she assembles the catalogue in readiness for the printers. Julia operates the successful Import Export business in commercial quantities of glass and ceramics which has become an integral partner of the gallery. This time around, Julia is on holiday, being romanced in Italy by Antonio, her fiancé, a winemaker. Their mutual close friend, Rebecca, is the administration and business guru. Her partner Paul, who would be described as kind and steady, is a psychologist working with the military and currently based in Perth. When Isabella and Julia are on buying trips, they know they can rely on Rebecca for the day to day operations. They are a formidable ‘girl triangle’. They have a bond that has lasted since a childhood of play and daisy chains and continues to last through all the ups and downs of life.

  Chapter 2

  Isabella

  Isabella didn’t mind working on the catalogue alone, she was still feeling very fragile after everything that had happened with Isaac, four years had passed but it was still a whirl of horrible memories. A fog had descended over her life that she felt would never clear. She often found herself avoiding situations where conversation was required, preferring to be alone in her sorrow. She stood up and stretched, cursing under her breath that she had been so absorbed, as she now felt stiff and out-of-sorts. Moving across to her desk to check for any recent emails, she paused at the stunning vase of flowers. She stood fingering the mauve roses, her favourite, with such a beautiful fragrance. David had been so extravagant! It was so unlike him. Picking up some notes made earlier, Isabella strolled from her office to Rebecca’s desk.

  Rebecca, friend and confidant, understands Isabella better than most. Whilst Isabella is her boss, it is purely because she is the Director of the gallery. Isabella is quite disorganized and never in control of her paperwork. She has a chaotic style of working, is full of ideas, an absolute day-dreamer, but drives herself giving everything one hundred and ten percent of her energy. Rebecca is measured, structured, organized; she is not particularly creative but loves to be surrounded by the beauty of the gallery. They have different working styles, their skills are complementary, their friendship strong, surviving many a work disagreement.

  Rebecca looked at the time in the corner of her computer screen; smiling up at Isabella she asked in a cheery tone, how her boss was going to spend her free hours. Turning to look out the front windows of the gallery, Isabella shrugged her shoulders and said, “I am not really sure, the weather outside looks grey and gloomy, I don’t really feel like heading down to Mornington now. The drive is never relaxing, at some point though, I do need to see Phyllis
about those ceramic pieces.”

  Sighing, “I don’t want to head home, I find it seems so big and full of memories. I never feel I belong there.”

  “It is all white and sleek and modern, there is no colour, no relief.”

  Rebecca asks her, “Do you think you will move from the house?”

  “No, I don’t think so. How can I?? I think I am just supposed to live with the memories and eventually the pain will slowly ebb away.” Then facing Rebecca, the sadness so evident in her stunning blue eyes, “I think I’ll go for a wander at Central, maybe buy something new.” As Isabella slouched to her desk to pick up her handbag, Rebecca watched after her, frowning and anxious for her friend; almost voicing a query to her boss, if there was more work to be done, maybe Isabella should stay, rather than have her regular Tuesday afternoon off.

  Coming back through the office, pulling on her black leather coat as she walked, she called half-heartedly, “See you later,” as she let herself out. Standing in the impressive entrance to the gallery, on first glimpse she looked every inch the successful business woman she had become. Her clothing, tailored black trousers, a turquoise cashmere jumper topped with the beautiful leather coat, Italian leather boots and matching hold-all, looked very professional; her pensive manner and youthful long blonde hair belied the fact. She looked lost and immediately began to battle with the blustery wind blowing her hair across her face.

  As she turned against the wind, her eyes caught sight of the motorbike-leather clad man hunched over, holding his head in his hands, a bike lying on its side near the bus-stop. The scene was worrying. There didn’t seem to have been an accident. The bike didn’t look damaged. The man visibly upset.

  Feeling a little apprehensive, she stepped forward thinking perhaps she should approach him and see if he needed help. Reaching him, she leaned over, gently touching him on the shoulder. He didn’t respond immediately, then, turning to look at her, he startled her with the abject black sorrow that seemed to pass across his face. “Are you hurt; did you have a fall from the bike?” He laughed; a hollow empty sound that was neither amused nor sarcastic. Isabella stepped back, feeling a little shocked at his attitude.

  Deep within, Tim struggled to regain some natural response to this kindly stranger. His eyes skimmed up the length of the woman’s legs, up further to the edge of what he registered as a very expensive leather coat; admiring the colour of her jumper, he travelled on to her face and the most amazing blue eyes widened with alarm. She was very attractive, but more than that she was frighteningly familiar. Pulling himself together with the knowledge that she might just be part of his wider circle and could share her knowledge of his intended actions, he straightened himself to his full height and motioned to the nearby bus stop seat. Leaning back against the frame of the shelter, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and scrambled for an explanation of his predicament.

  Isabella took a seat beside the man, perching as she was inclined to do when she sat, ready to flee if necessary, she continued to watch him warily. Had he fallen off his bike? Was he ill? Was he drink or drug influenced? She asked, “Do you need a doctor?” Somehow though, she felt it was just a pause he needed, a break from life, maybe someone to listen. Her intuition told her to just sit, and he would start to talk. Tim tried to regain some composure, the shock of what he had nearly done registering in his brain. He knew he must keep the darkness to himself. He found his voice, thick and slurring at first.

  “I was feeling very unwell, so I had to stop riding. I just need to sit for a bit, so sorry to trouble you.”

  She looked across into his face and felt she should stay just to be sure he was okay. She registered he was very handsome, a strong jawline, his face perfect symmetry, stunning dark brown eyes that seemed to reflect so much pain. He was younger she thought about 25 to her 32. He looked as if he was carrying ‘the weight of the world’. He looked a lot like David, her friend, her accountant, her …no he wasn’t her lover, just someone she liked.

  David came to mind, Julia’s older brother, possibly one of her closest male friends, someone that was always there and could be relied on. David, it seemed had always thought he felt romantically towards her; she knows he had supposedly been devastated when she married Isaac. With Isaac gone…. Stopping her reverie, she started fossicking in her hold-all for her most treasured possession, her multi-coloured beanie with the dirty white pom-pom. It had been one of the last gifts before her parents died, so many years ago. It was not only going to give her the emotional fortitude she needed to deal with this deeply troubled stranger, it would keep her long hair, the wind continued to tousle, in check.

  Tim managed a grin which spread to delightful crinkles around his eyes as this well-groomed lady rammed the silly hat on her head. Glimpses from the past, of his sister’s beautiful friend Isabella, wearing the very same hat, jolted him into dealing with the present. He knew who she was now and also realized that she hadn’t a clue about him, if she did, she wasn’t giving any indication. Odd, he thought, but to be fair, they probably hadn’t been in each other’s orbit for at least two, if not three years. Actually, longer because she had been married for a while and quite removed from her ‘special’ families. She hadn’t attended his father’s large funeral, six months ago, which had irked his mother no end. He could still hear his mother, “after all your father did for her.” Isabella’s memories, if any of him, would probably be as a callow secondary school student.

  Isabella turned to motion towards a building behind and suggested as it was her work they could go inside, and she would make him some tea or coffee. He turned his head to where she was gesturing firming his opinion of who she was. The building housed ‘Magari’, a ceramic and glass gallery. Isabella Thompson’s gallery or was her name Isabella Stewart. He couldn’t, just for a minute, remember her maiden name versus her married name. His sister Julia works with her as does their friend Rebecca. The ‘girl triangle’, as they call themselves. The ‘girl triangle’ had been a significant part of his younger teenage years. Most of the time, they were a perfect equilateral triangle with Julia at the base, there were times when ill winds blew and without warning would erupt like a volcano spewing ash and lava at each other, and just like a volcano they would subside and lie dormant again. They were somewhat older than Tim, six years he thought, and they had always thought of him as just Julia’s skinny, nerdy, little brother. Someone to tolerate because he was there, and they were obliged to; he had often been the victim of silly teasing. David, his brother, closer in age to the ‘girl triangle’, being two years older than them, shared a friendship with Isabella and Rebecca and a warm relationship with his sister Julia.

  Tim nodded his acceptance to her suggestion and motioned to his discarded bike. She pointed to the staff parking at the side of the building. He pointed again to the bike and signed that he would park it there. She stifled a giggle too late. He noticed, and with irritation asked, “What’s so funny?”

  She replied, “For the last few minutes we have been nodding, pointing, gesturing without saying any words, it reminded me of charades.”

  Agreeing he said, “I see your point. Okay, let me get this bike up, and parked. I like coffee, strong, with milk and three sugars.” Already thinking he would appreciate the warm, sugary liquid. “But won’t your boss mind you bringing back a stranger after your lunch break?”

  Her quick response, “Ah, no, I am the boss.” They exchanged names, “Isabella.”

  “Tim.” He thought, she still hasn’t realized, it hasn’t dawned on her who I am.

  She helped him with the bike, taking a chance on a very short helmetless ride to the parking. It felt nice resting against his back, her arms on his sides. “That was interesting,” she said as she hopped off. “I am frightened of traffic but maybe sometime we could go for a long ride on quiet country roads. I’d need a helmet and a jacket though and probably not the most expensive boots I have,” as she looked down at her feet. Then looking up at him with a radiant smil
e and twinkling eyes, she said, “That’s a lot of sugar, three sugars, come on let’s get you that coffee.”

  Chapter 3

  Friendship

  Rebecca was surprised when Isabella pushed back through the front door with a tall, dark haired young man following hesitantly. “We’re just going to the tea-room for a coffee, Rebecca do you want anything?” She turned to the young man in her wake, “We have Tim-tams; chocolate biscuits always make me feel better.” Looping her arm in his, she dragged him away. Rebecca had looked up at Tim recognizing him instantly, nodded and stifled a smile. “Tim-tams for…” Strangely, he motioned to her not to speak any further. She looked after them as they walked to the tea-room.

  Isabella returned to Rebecca’s desk to check if she wanted a hot drink, as she came up Rebecca joked with her, “Isabella, are you collecting the Martinelli men?” Mischievously, she added, “Where do you think we might display them?”

  Isabella frowned and then her hand shot to her mouth. “That’s Tim. No, it couldn’t be! He is tall, handsome, and well a guy, someone I’d fancy if I met him out.”

  Rebecca shot her friend an amused look and nodded. “Yes, that’s Julia’s little brother. Not so little anymore hey! You have flowers from David, her older brother, on your desk and now you are entertaining the younger one in our tea-room.” Rebecca had a twinkle in her eye as she watched Isabella shifting from foot to foot, in her silly much-loved hat, a gamut of emotions running across her face.

  Isabella spoke at last, rushing to lean over the counter into Rebecca’s workspace. “Do you know much about him?” she gestured towards the tea-room and questioned Rebecca.