I simply stare at the cover of this black, hardcover book.

I begin to trace my fingers over a stunning gold embossment that says "To Addy, Love, Your Secret Admirer"

On my own, I have managed to determine that the 'Secret Admirer', is my Nanna's Government contact.

Yet again, the copious amount of family facts and information is overstimulating me. I decide on a cup of chamomile tea to settle myself.

I head downstairs and place the book on top of the other Secret Admirer paperwork, and head into the kitchen.

Brewing my chamomile tea is a ritual in itself. I place Nanna's chamomile blend into a steel tea bag (aka steeper) and boil the kettle.
I like to pour the water over the steeper inside a proper ceramic teapot and allow it to brew for a few minutes.

While it sits, I like to smell the chamomile steam that exits through the spout.
I also have a tray set up with sugar, my teacup and saucer, all only waiting on the teapot to finish.

However, I decide to show my impatience by pouring a cup straight away and make myself have two or three sips before placing the teacup back onto it's saucer to carry with me to the dining table.

I place my tea set directly in front of my piles of paperwork so I can pull out my chair and sit down.

Once I am seated and comfortable I pause and inhale deeply, then ensure the exhale to a count of six. I repeat this process three more times until my pulse has stopped racing making my breathing settle into a calm rhythm and my nerves mamage to relax for just a few moments.

I pick up my teacup from its saucer and take another slow sip as I flip the first page over and am rewarded with my Nanna's beautiful cursive script handwriting.

I know I need to vent in a safe place. Outside of my head but no verbal statements either.

The first line says.

My name is Adelle and I have just completed my Twelfth year of education. I want to go onto further study and become a teacher and hopefully major in English.

I know my Mum and Dad can't afford to help me.
So when I was approached by a man from the Government, offering me a spot that will enable me to work and get paid, but also to have the funding for the University of Teaching and gain my masters degree.

I know I'm going to regret this, I can feel it in my bones. But being eighteen and really wanting to go to University, I've accepted what they call a "three-year contract."

I can then walk away with a non-disclosure agreement in hand and the ability to study my dream of becoming a teacher.

I've just managed to complete the training required to do my job. This included a spot of weaponry training, alongside charm classes, fashion classes, the art of seduction classes, make-up and hairstyling classes and more.

My 'Secret Admirer' is my boss and hands me my job requirements and cases.

My first job will be underway in a mere ten minutes. My brief states I am to flirt and seduce a man to find out some "House of Representatives"  dirt to dig up once I got him soused on alcohol.

I've been provided new outfits, shoes, jewellery and make-up. The lingerie is a bit revealing for my taste, but it's all a part of the seduction.

I've already been warned that one of the upcoming case files I'm going to have will help in averting a National Security risk and change the course of history.

My Dad likes to follow politics and discuss them at the dining table with the family.
My Mum, Dulcie, my two sisters Anne and Grace, my two brothers Terry and Arthur and my Dad, James.

I've personally got zero interest in Politics, but from the dinner table discussions of late, I can't help but notice the split within my family over a particular policy that the new Prime Minister, Harold Holt, has been endeavouring to pull apart and remove - the White Australia policy.

Both Anne and Grace have chosen to agree with Dad's arguments for keeping the White Australia Policy in place, which enables us to refuse any and all immigrants that were not white, allowing only those who had the same white skin alongside us. Those already in the country that are not white, the policy forces them to be extradited home.

However both my brothers and my Mum side against keeping the policy in place.
This would allow any immigrants, any at all, to enter Australia and not be extradited to their original country.

I don't want to pick a side, but I must agree with Mum that keeping that policy in place is going to be detrimental to the future of our country.

I must go, Mum is calling me for tea and I adore the gossip she brings.

I'll write more when I know more.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

By the time I have read this entry, it truly does answer 15 of the 99 questions I currently have in my mind.

I impulsively decide I must read this journal not only as soon as I am able, but as much of it as I can before my time runs out and I will have to finish up here to go home.
Automatically I place the journal in my room under my pillow and proceed back upstairs to the main room I was previously sorting through when this mess of paperwork got me all distracted.

I immediately, manage to completely empty and sift through the last of the boxes.
Having already grabbed the roll of large garbage bags, I begin to bag the different piles.

I make up three large garbage bags with items to donate to a local second hand store and place them to the right of the front door.

I walk up the stairs and manage to make up two bags of just rubbish, items that could be thrown into the wheelie bin before bin night, but I quickly decide to walk them out to the wheelie bins Nanna kept stored right near the front door for ease of access for herself.

Lastly, I make up the items I want to keep. Whether for sentimental reasons or the items I simply couldn't bear to part with.
I make sure to keep two or three of the archive boxes handy for all Nanna's interesting paperwork, photo albums and frames and the few items of clothing and jewellery I want to keep.

This clears the room out immensely and enables me to have clear access to the remaining pieces of furniture. I already know that the filing cabinet holds a few year's worth of Nanna's bills, deeds, receipts, education certificates and assorted certifications were all in the three drawer filing cabinet.

Once I finish filling two entire garbage bags with expired documents and whatnot, I text my Father to see if I throw it away or burn it.
He texts me backs pretty quick, specifying destruction of the unneeded documents.

I walk those two bags into the loungeroom that boasts a large, gorgeous open fireplace set as the central item in the room. I check the weather and I can see that it is due to rain in the next half an hour to an hour and I think this will be the perfect time light the fire, make my food to eat here in the loungeroom in front of the fire, before settling onto the couch to read more of Nanna's journal.

This sounds like an ideal plan for the evening and so I head to the rug in front of the couch and sit myself on the floor with my legs crossed. I start to wad, crush and crumple the main part of the first bag of papers, into the fireplace.
Once a decent size pile is stacked on the bottom of the fireplace I use a safety match to light it on fire.

Once the glow of the fire was not only flickering in different shapes and sizes but creating dancing in shadow form on the walls and ceiling.

I take a moment to appreciate the beauty being shaped and reformed in front of my eyes both stunning and serene.
Gazing around me, I see the shadow of a female against the wall.

I snap my head from side to side in order to check there really was no one else here and upon taking note the flames are starting to die down, I begin the process of adding more paper, then I grab one of the few remaining logs to add on top, then I'm back to adding more paper.

Once the fire is throwing some heat through the room, I put an old record Nanna used to play for me many times throughout my childhood, poured myself a glass of wine and begin to slowly heat my can of soup on the stovetop while I sway and hum in time to the music.

I feel a momentary sensation of cold around me before I again feel the effect of the fire.

Once my soup is hot enough to serve I put two pieces of bread in the toaster and pop my soup into a bowl. Once the toast was ready I buttered it cut both the slices into 'little soldiers' and started to carry my soup, toast and glass of wine out to the loungeroom to eat.

I know I should add more papers into the fire whose embers are glowing brightly, but Nanna's journal is calling to me to be read.

Stubbornly, I convince myself to eat my food then wash, dry and put away my few dishes from the day and also get into my pyjamas before grabbing Nanna's journal.

I curl up on the couch with a blanket and run my fingertips over the embossment on the front.