So far in Embraceable You ….
School girl Josefine Hanrahan has been a boarder at Our Lady of Dolores for most of her childhood. Today is her eighteenth birthday but it’s a lonely birthday. Josefine finds it difficult to make friends and the other girls don’t like her. Her father is Australia’s richest man but he’s a lousy father. Today, Josefine is going to break free …
“I want you to remember that love’s the only thing that matters. Will you do that for me, Baby?”
So blue, her mother’s eyes were, even when the rest of her faded.
“I’ll remember Mummy.”
“Say it for me, baby girl.”
After Liv died, taking longer than St John had budgeted for, her father made the trip himself to fetch his daughter back. She must have made a sad little bundle with Mormor’s small cardboard suitcase and a battered leather saxophone case – all arms and legs and bewilderment. As she’d been expecting an envoy, Josefine briefly thought that his arrival was a sign of love for his only child. It was a fleeting delusion. She read in the in-flight newspaper that it was the only way that the Danish authorities would agree to her leaving the country. Liv Axelsen’s daughter had dual citizenship and her maternal grandparents had contested their son-in-law’s demand that they return his off-spring, so he had to come to collect her himself. How annoyed he must have been to be forced to take his eyes off managing every little thing in the conglomerate that was Hanrahan Iron!
A couple of years later, she checked the business pages for December that year and found an article which confirmed that the company’s share price dropped one percent during the week that St John was fetching back the inconvenient child. Extrapolating from the information, she calculated that JosefineKarla Hanrahan was worth over five hundred million dollars a week when she was just eight and a half years old. She wondered if, like a good wine, her market value might even improve with age.
“Happy birthday Josefine,” the senior year school girl murmured to herself as she bundled up her golden saxophone and set out from Our Lady’s gated grounds.
The bodyguards her father paid to protect her should have known she would creep out through this path, but she’d scanned with an expert eye and she couldn’t see them. The walk along the lake from the school was cold and crisp and she could feel the frosted grass snapping under her feet.
In the sculpture garden, the automatic timers had not yet turned on the misters, so the central sculpture was just rusty metal strips, evoking the impression of a ship hull sallying forth amidst waves of soft fern tendrils. Josefine nestled into the pebbles on the ground. They were cold under the thick fabric of her heavy overcoat and her saxophone was icy to touch as she slipped the pieces together. She closed her eyes as she placed the mouthpiece between her lips. It was only because her torso she was so elongated that she could sit on the ground and play without the saxophone bumping onto the pebbles. There was one advantage to being freakishly tall.
“Happy birthday Josefine,’ she whispered to herself as she began to play.