As Nell had sadly passed away, I could no longer just drop into the nursing home where she lived and pick her brain about her remarkable life, or ask her to clarify details and dates, and so the search began for fragments of Nell, that I might put them together in an honorable and respectful way.

I became quite close with the woman who managed the lifestyle program for the folks living on level 3 at the Bupa Caufield residence. Sunny, a robust, big-hearted, red-headed Scott with singing aspirations of her own had a vast storehouse of memories and details associated with the residents she cared for. She had shared with me some amazing details about Nell’s life, before and after moving into the Caufield home, and I wanted to get those details clear before I shared Nell’s story.

I put a call into the Caufield residence and asked after Sunny, who to my dismay had since retired from the role and was no longer available. I then asked about Nell, put the word out to nurses and employees there who may have had as close a connection with her as Sunny had. I asked if it was at all possible to perhaps be introduced to the family, perhaps they could call me and I would ask them directly about Nell’s life, which I knew had been quite something.

Alas, the records were no longer easily accessible and a lovely nurse offered to do her best to track something down. In the meantime she suggested that I try the white pages. I had met one of Nell’s daughters at the home on a couple of occasions and I knew her name, and Nell’s surname, assuming the daughter had held onto her maiden name, I might just be in luck.

I scrolled through the rather slim list that came up on the screen of the white pages site and found a match, not far from me. The woman who answered the phone sounded about the right age to be Nell’s daughter. When I introduced myself and told her I was looking for the daughter of Nell, by the name of so-and-so, she confirmed that she indeed was the daughter of Nell, and her name was that of Nell’s daughter, but that her mother had never lived at the Caufield residence and had in fact never lived in a nursing home.

I apologised a little dazedly, reeling at the uncanny connection between this woman and myself. She wished me well in the search,I thanked her for her trouble.

‘I hope you find her,’ she said kindly.

‘So do I,’ I replied. So do I.