Legacy by Larissa Behrendt Page A

‘Never lose that passion,’ he whispered. He opened the flap of the post box and listened as the leather-bound emotions of his life dropped to the bottom.
    Returning to his house, John pushed his hands deep into his coat pockets, heard the soft scrunching of snow underneath his feet. He could see his footsteps in the fresh snow as he returned to the house, the only one who had ventured out on this cold night. ‘I never could get used to this damn New England weather. Always too cold for my liking,’ he thought. ‘But it’s no colder than my wife. And no colder than my own heart.’
    John entered his house as quietly as he left it. Still in his coat and scarf he returned to his study. He searched through the still-open top drawer until his fingers found the small gun. He held the barrel to his temple as his eyes fell to the smile on Lucy’s face on the page in his photograph album. Her name floated on his last breath as he squeezed the trigger.

PART II

15
    SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA
    I am lying on my bed pondering how so much has gone wrong in such a short space of time. My bag’s already packed even though my plane does not leave until late in the afternoon.
    It all began three days ago when the phone rang at 6 am. I panicked and my first thought was that I had forgotten a call with Professor Young until I realised the next had been scheduled for just over two weeks away.
    Mum had reached the phone before I even got out of bed. ‘It’s for you, sweetheart,’ she said as she came to my bedroom door with the handset.
    â€˜Hello?’
    â€˜Hi, Simone. It’s Glenda Barnes, Professor Young’s secretary.’
    â€˜Hi. Do I have a meeting with the Professor?’ I asked, confused.
    â€˜No. I have bad news. The worst, I’m afraid. I’m ringing to let you know that Professor Young passed away two nights ago.’
    â€˜Oh God.’
    â€˜Yes. It’s awful. Just awful. And such chaos. I only just realised that you wouldn’t have heard. It’s been on the local news here. It was so unexpected and he was so well known. So popular.’
    â€˜I don’t believe it.’
    â€˜I know. Such a shock. There’s a family service on Friday but the faculty is having a memorial service in the church in the University Yard in two weeks. Thought you might like to be back for that.’
    â€˜Yes. Yes, I would. I was coming back soon anyway but I’ll definitely be there.’ And suddenly I realised that I would never see Professor Young again. ‘I just can’t believe it. Was it a car accident or a heart attack?’
    The secretary hesitated, then she whispered, ‘We’re not supposed to tell but, well, if you can keep it quiet, he killed himself. Shot himself in the head. Can you believe it?’
    â€˜No. No, I can’t.’
    When I got off the phone Mum was waiting with a cup of tea. She could tell it was bad news. She has her own kind of telepathy.
    â€˜Oh Mum,’ I stepped into the comfort of her arms. ‘Professor Young is dead.’
    She didn’t speak or fuss too much, just waited patiently until I was ready to talk.
    â€˜I just feel numb. I guess it hasn’t sunk in yet.’
    â€˜Grief is like that. You won’t feel it deepest until you least expect it. And then something little will trigger everything locked up inside you.’
    She comforted me until I stepped out of her embrace.
    â€˜What does this mean for your studies?’ she asked.
    â€˜I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about it. I’ll need to find a new supervisor I guess,’ I replied glumly.
    Who could be to me all the things that Professor Young was? Who else would understand me and my work the way that he could? I put my head into my hands. My mother hugged me again. ‘There, there.’
    â€˜What’s going on?’ my father asked, coming into the room, sensing the mood. He looked at me, then at my