Margaret Jones

She sat staring at the wall. She could hear the ticking of the clock, so she knew that time was moving forward but in that moment it felt entirely motionless. As if just one second could last an eternity. In some ways, she hoped it would, for what she was waiting for was utterly terrifying. She wished for just a few moments more of blissful ignorance.

‘Camille Bowman?’, she sharply turned her head, flaming red curls flowing around her face. Her glistening emerald eyes met with dejected coffee ones and her deepest fears were confirmed. She knew, that in a few short minutes her world would come crashing down and there was nothing she or anyone else could do about it. She must have answered, though she was not aware of it, because the voice directed her to follow and she found her legs obeying without her consent.

The hallway was long and was made all the more extensive by the dreaded news that awaited her behind the door at the end. Nevertheless, she continued on. Her footsteps echoing through her brain which was both racing with thoughts and completely empty at the same time. Finally, she reached the end of the hallway and the door was opened revealing a bright, sterile room. She was ushered in by the voice which belonged to a man wearing a white coat and told to take a seat. The chair was black vinyl with metal legs and arms, it was the worst chair she had ever sat in. Though that had nothing to do with its physical features and everything to do with the reason she was in it. The man in the coat searched for papers on his desk and she took that opportunity to try and distract herself by taking in more of the room. It was a reasonably small room but it was made to feel huge by the large floor-length window overlooking bustling New York City. She sighed wishing she could be down there and not in this room.

Suddenly, she was brought back to the room by the man introducing himself as Dr Michaels. She shook his hand then sat back quietly awaiting her news. Dr Michaels took a deep breath and began to speak.

‘Camille,’ he paused as if weighing up whether to unleash the tidal wave of devastation onto her. Responsibility and logic soon won the battle as he continued, ‘I’m afraid that the surgery was not successful.’

With those words, just as she feared, Camille’s entire world crumbled in front of her eyes. Though looking at her you wouldn’t know it, her bottom lip didn’t quiver, she didn’t allow her eyes to sadden any further than their glassy state. She had never been one to show emotion.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Dr Michaels continued with pain evident on his face, ‘but the tumour in your pancreas couldn’t be removed and has progressed too far to treat with chemotherapy. There’s nothing we can do for you.’

‘How long do I have?’ Camille asked, voice weak and ready to break but still, she held strong.

‘Up to a year,’ the doctor answered sorrowfully, ‘I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more.’

Camille nodded curtly, ‘I’m sure you tried your best.’

The walk home was a blur. The only thing she could focus on was the panic-stricken voice in her head screaming 'you’re going to die'. Only once she was past the threshold of her apartment with the door firmly locked behind her, did she allow herself to sink to the floor and weep.

***

That was three months ago. Camille hasn’t told anyone yet. This wasn’t the plan, she was supposed to have so much longer left. There are still so many things to do, places to visit, people to meet. She just needed a bit more time to save up the money. Now she won’t even get the chance. At any second it could be over, she could be in a hospital dying tomorrow. She’s been trying not to think about that but it’s getting increasingly more difficult.

The next day is Tuesday. Tuesday the 23rd of February 2010 to be exact. It’s an icy day with a light snow falling outside. Camille is just tidying up her floristry getting ready to close, when a man wearing a long black trench coat and holding a briefcase comes through the door along with a gust of crisp air.

‘How may I help you?’ she says politely to the man, as he starts unwrapping the scarf that had been fastened around his neck. He finishes unwrapping it before he speaks.

‘You are Camille Bowman, yes?’ he questions simply.

‘In the flesh,’ Camille replies while thinking to herself 'not for much longer'. She pushes the thought out of her mind as the man continues.

‘I’m Jackson Williams and I am the executor of your late great aunt’s will.’

‘I’m sorry but who?’

‘Jackson Williams of Williams Family Law Firm.’

‘That’s great but which aunt?’ Camille questions further.

‘Your great aunt Margaret?’ Jackson answers confused.

‘Yes, but I don’t think I’ve heard of her.’

‘Well, apparently she heard of you because she left you a cheque for $20 000 to spend however you wish.’

Camille’s mouth falls agape and she exclaims. ‘She what?’

‘She left you $20 000,’ Jackson repeats.

They sort out the paperwork, of which there is a lot and finally, as he’s about to leave, Jackson remembers something. He pulls a small, old, black, leatherbound notebook out of his briefcase and holds it in his hands looking over it.

‘Margaret asked me to give this to you. She wouldn’t let me record it in the will but said it was of the utmost importance that it found its way into your hands,’ he hands it over, fingers lingering on the cover, ‘she made me promise not to open it and I’m a man of my word so I never have,’ he explains longingly.

Camille nods and feels somewhat pressured into opening it just to put this man’s mind at ease. However, she has an inkling that this is something she should do alone.

‘Well thank you very much this was interesting news and it’s terrible to hear of my Aunt’s passing. Though I must admit I didn’t know her all that well,’ Camille thanks Jackson as she walks with him to the door.

He smiles thoughtfully and replies, ‘thank you for your time Miss Bowman and good luck,’ with that he turns and walks out the door into the cold evening air. Camille hadn’t noticed until then that the sun had set and darkness was starting to creep in. She is tempted to take a cab home but seeing as these could be her last few days she feels the need to experience every second of them. Plus the stroll will give her time to think over what she will do with her new money. She thinks she will travel but she’s not sure where.

By the time Camille makes it home she is frozen to her core but feels more alive than ever. The frosty air had stung her face, the freshly fallen snow crunched beneath her feet. She heats a steaming bowl of her favourite soup made using her grandmother’s recipe and snuggles in on the lounge chair to investigate the notebook. She opens the cover and is immediately mesmerised. She’s always appreciated beautiful things and this book is certainly beautiful. The pages are made of what feels like the finest quality paper and the writing is that old-style cursive with the gorgeous swirly letters. The first page reads:

To Whomever This May Have Reached,

My name is Margaret Jones. The year is 1965 and the month is February. You’re probably very confused as to who your mysterious great aunt is, so let me explain. I’ve always been a small person with big dreams to someday change the world. However, I am starting to realise that may be harder than I originally anticipated. That’s not at all to say I’m giving up my hopes and dreams, I would never, I’m merely starting smaller and building my way up.

So here it is. All going to plan, this notebook will fill up with the recounts of adventures of women from all over the world. The $20 000 dollars you have received along with this is to help you do something you’ve always wanted to do but have never had the chance. I don’t care how small or large, if you want to do it, I want you to know that you can. Too often we are told we can’t do this or that, but let this notebook be proof that you can do anything you put your mind to.

Now, I want you to go out and do that thing that’s been calling your name. Have the time of your life, live in the moment, but savour every second of it. Write every detail down in these pages, even add pictures if you like. Then, when you are done return it to ‘Williams Family Law Firm’ , I guarantee there will be one near you and they will know what to do. Don’t ask how, it’s part of the magic.

Make sure you don’t forget to read the other adventures as they may inspire you to do something truly wonderful. Most importantly, is that you know that anything and everything really is possible.

Lots of Love,

Margaret

Excitement races through Camille as she realises what’s happening. This is her chance. Her chance for a last hoorah. She can go to all of the places she’s always wanted and see all of the sights she dreamed of for so long. This is her dream come true.

She spends most of the night reading through all of the adventures recorded in the notebook. It’s so amazing to see so many people’s dreams laid out in one place for her perusal. She can’t wait for her chance to join them. As she’s reading she decides where she will go. It’s ambitious especially given her circumstances but like Margaret said “anything and everything really is possible”. Japan will be the first stop on her trip, she plans to go in spring to see the cherry blossoms that blanket their surroundings like snow. Next, she aims to go to Greece to see the mesmerisingly beautiful white buildings of Santorini. The last stop but most definitely not the least will be a small seaside town in Italy for the summer. Somewhere where she can bask in the golden rays of sunshine all day long without a care in the world as time briefly ceases to exist.

Just before she gets up to get ready for bed she writes her name, Camille Bowman, at the top of the next blank page already anticipating what it will contain. It’s the last page in the book. She closes the notebook with a snap, revealing the smooth leather once again. She runs her finger down the spine before placing it on the side table. As she gets up she suddenly feels very dizzy. She falls barely conscious, crimson curls falling over her eyes and understands that it’s over. She’ll never get to go on her adventure, and for a moment that panics her, but then she remembers that hers was the last page of the book. It was always supposed to be this way she was never supposed to pass it on. Margaret’s legacy ends with her. Maybe it doesn’t though. The notebook will be discovered and those stories will be read. They will inspire more people. Her family will donate the money to cancer research so a cure can one day be found. With that Camille Bowman finally lets go, falling into the abyss. As she does so, she makes peace with the fact that maybe her real dream was the beautiful life she has been living all along.