O, Fortuna

Chapter 15

Five hours had passed unnoticed by Grace, in spite of the myriad of piles and boxes now scattered across every surface of June's bedroom after emptying the wardrobes and sitting on the floor in the middle of it all, she glanced around in dismay. She had found clothes, shoes, accessories, jewellery, cosmetics and the thousand other things that women deem necessary in their lives, including a Louis Vuitton luggage set not that different to that Grace had purchased for herself. What she had not found were photos, journals, trinkets or souvenirs, anything that might have made everything now heaped across the room seem a little less like the costume department of film studio.

Grace had been able to determine her great aunt's preference for Dior and Chanel clothing and the famous No. 5 fragrance, that June had worn Size 10 clothes and 7 in a shoe all her adult life and that she kept everything meticulously ordered. For a moment, opening a shoe box to find it full of loose papers, Grace thought she might have stumbled onto what she was really looking for but instead found herself going through yellowing, faded hand-written receipts and ticket stubs, the earliest from Sydney stores and venues during the 50s and 60s, the latter from Brisbane and surrounds. There was a something of a stray amongst them that stopped Grace short of dismissing the entire box in the direction of disposal - a Hong Kong restaurant in August 1973. It made sense to Grace that a woman with June's sort of money would have travelled a great deal but how a meal in Hong Kong in '73 could be significant...

No photos. That annoyed Grace the most out of this fruitless expedition, Rosa had said there were photos in June's room. Either that information had been extremely dated or someone had taken the liberty of removing the photos after she had mentioned wanting to see them. Grace sat up on her knees at the side of the bed, reaching for one of the large recyclable shopping bags that Rosa had bought down to bedroom and began stuffing it with pairs of shoes whilst trying to focus on the positives of her morning's labours, what she had learned and achieved. That June had an enviable figure, a taste for French couture and had once gone to Hong Kong; that she, Grace, would have the house to herself (if only for a few days) near Christmas...and, O, that she had alienated Liam.

"Busy morning" Grace mumbled mockingly to herself then groaned, fastening off the full to capacity bag before her with a bow and setting it aside on the bed before reaching for an empty bag. More than 250 pairs of shoes, a five decade-long inventory of styles which - and it was something of an amusement for Grace to realise as much - seemed to have come full circle, the number of the beautifully-crafted dress shoes June possessed, clearly not the product of recent mass-manufacture somewhere in Asia, that bore the stamps of Milan and Parisian design and would have no trouble appearing to be the height of chic that very afternoon anywhere on Planet Vanity.

Though she knew simple observation of them they would not fit her, Grace had earlier tried on an exotic concoction from Milan, black 3" heels, peep toes, the velvet decorated with hundreds, possibly thousands of tiny black beads to form stars and a silver metal starburst motif on the silky strap that would sit above the ankle. No, they had not fitted her but holding them now, poised over the bag, ready to pack them, bound for a new home, Grace was not seeing her disappointment in her inability to fit into them so much how beautiful they were simply as objects. Grace did not often wax lyrical over shoes, with her size 9's, her options had always been limited anyway and, when push came to shove, she preferred her flip flops or bare feet to anything fashionable.

But these, Grace sighed at the black heels sitting in her hands, these she would keep to remind her of June's couture tastes because, sadly, nothing was going to fit her. Maybe Rosa or Deanna might like to look through the clothes, if there was anything they wanted as a keepsake or that they could wear and, if not, the Salvation Army were going to find themselves the recipients of some seriously classic, cool fashion statements. Or was it hot? Grace thought to herself, putting the beautiful shoes aside, up on the bedside table, the fashionistas dealt in terms of hotness, didn't they...or was that only when something was new?