Family Connections Read online

  I hope you don’t think I’m cheeky, but it’s terrible not knowing what sort of background I come from, so could you please write and tell me something about yourself? I would really like to meet you one day. I’m going to do a gap year starting in fifteen months, before I go to university – well, I hope I’ll be going to university. I’m planning to go backpacking with a friend and we both want to visit Australia. Would you mind if I came to see you? I feel a bit lost at the moment about who I am.

  I’ve enclosed an international reply coupon, so please, even if you’re not the right man, could you let me know because I’ll have to start searching again? Only, I have a hunch you are the right man and my hunches aren’t usually wrong.

  Rosie Quentin

  PS I’m sorry if I’ve not written this tactfully, only I’ve tried six times and this was the best I could manage.

  Brad stared at the letter, then re-read it slowly.

  ‘Jane Carroll,’ he murmured as memories came flooding back. She’d worked in a café near his office, so bright and full of energy and enthusiasm. He hadn’t meant anything to happen, but he and Helen had been going through a bad patch just then and Jane had been lonely because her travelling companion had met a guy and moved on without her.

  He wasn’t normally the unfaithful sort and the thought of his children had made him finish the affair a few weeks later and try harder to make his marriage work, but he’d never forgotten the cheerful English girl. He’d wondered from time to time how she was doing, but had no way of finding out because she’d not given him her address in England.

  She’d had a daughter! His daughter!

  Why the hell hadn’t Jane told him? He’d have helped her financially and… Then he remembered how short of money he and Helen had been in those days and knew it’d have not only have been a struggle to support Jane and her child; it’d have been the final straw that destroyed his fragile marriage.

  A daughter! Was she called Rosie because of his surname? He smoothed out the letter, touching the signature, not knowing whether he was glad about this or not. But the words touched his heart. ‘I feel a bit lost at the moment about who I am.’ Poor kid.

  A sentence near the end of the letter caught his eye again. ‘I have a hunch you are the right man and my hunches aren’t usually wrong.’ He was prone to hunches, too, uncanny feelings about the people he loved. And his weren’t usually wrong, either.

  Psychic, his mother had called it, and said it ran in her family. He didn’t know about that. He wasn’t into ghosts and all that woo-woo stuff. But he had to admit that he did have hunches from time to time.

  He couldn’t think of anything else but Rosie all evening, lost track of his favourite TV show in the middle of the episode, drank a second and then a third glass of wine, and eventually went to bed to toss and turn.

  At three o’clock the solution to all his problems came to him and he lay smiling as he thought out the details carefully. It would work, he knew it would!

  * * *

  When she got back home from her meal with Lexie, Gina could wait no longer. She spread out the long, thin piece of green and white paper that was headed Certified Copy of an Entry of Marriage and studied it intently. Daniel Everett, bachelor and soldier, had married one Christine Pirie, nurse, at the Register Office, Blackpool, in June 1942.

  So it had been a war-time marriage.

  She knew her father came from Lancashire, because he’d never lost the accent, but she’d thought he came from near Preston from something she’d overheard once. Perhaps Blackpool was his first wife’s home or he’d been stationed there.

  Here in faded black ink, for the first time, she found her paternal grandfather’s name and the information that he was a shopkeeper. She mouthed the name and touched it with one fingertip. Why had her father always refused point-blank to speak about his family? The old resentment surged up. She’d begged him to tell her about them so many times and he’d insisted she was better off without ‘that lot’. And her mother had just shrugged and said she had no close relatives left, and begged her not to upset her father.

  Clearly Dad had quarrelled with his family, but Gina had never been able to understand how that could have happened, because Dad had been a calm man, the best of fathers, a loving husband, a generous friend.

  What had happened to his first wife? She must have died very young, poor thing, because Gina knew her parents had married in 1954, the year before she was born.

  She re-read the marriage certificate, this time noting that the bride’s family were also shopkeepers. Then she let the piece of paper drop and sat staring at nothing, losing herself in her thoughts.

  Blackpool. Her father’s family had come from there, not Preston. She’d seen the famous seaside resort on television a few times. There had been a drama series set there quite recently. It looked an amazing place. She’d wanted to visit the UK, but her Tom had hated flying. They’d once flown across Australia to Sydney and he’d been white-knuckled all the way, so they’d never gone overseas.

  With a sigh she turned to the other papers in the bundle and what she found made her cry out in shock and seriously consider burning the whole lot in the garden incinerator.

  She didn’t, of course. She stuffed them back into the carrier bag and shoved it into a cupboard. She’d have to find a better hiding place than that. She didn’t want her daughters finding out.

  It was a long time before she got to sleep that night.

  CHAPTER 2

  Perth, Western Australia

  The following day Brad put his plan into action as soon as he got to work. He went to see his manager, and watched Rodney shuffling papers around, as usual trying to give the impression that he could hardly spare the time to talk to anyone.

  Brad fought hard to restrain the smile that was twitching at the corners of his lips. He was going to enjoy every second of this meeting. Rodney was a fool, a pompous, self-opinionated fool. But the manager’s job had come up when Helen was terminally ill and Brad hadn’t even bothered to apply. He’d felt from the start that things wouldn’t go well for Helen, though he hadn’t said that to her, of course. Another of his hunches, one he could have done without.

  For all his lack of sleep, Brad’s brain felt crystal clear this morning. ‘I turn fifty-four tomorrow,’ he announced when Rodney looked up.

  ‘What? Oh. Happy birthday. Don’t forget to bring us some of that fantastic chocolate cake.’

  There was a pause as Rodney realized his faux pas.

  Brad took a deep breath. Helen had been famous for her cooking, sending in luscious cakes each year to celebrate his birthday. ‘Look, I need—’

  ‘I’d like to talk to you about—’

  They both spoke together then broke off. Determined not to be sidetracked, Brad quickly dived in before Rodney could start again. ‘Fifty-four,’ he repeated loudly. ‘One year away from retirement.’ Ah! Now he had his manager’s full attention. ‘And I want to retire early.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit premature to discuss this? I mean, you have another year left before you’re eligible to stop work. And anyway, you’ve still got a lot to give to the organization. When I consider—’

  Brad interrupted ruthlessly. ‘I have six months’ long service leave accrued. If I take that on half pay, it’ll double the time and bring me to retirement age. I not only want to retire; I need to. So I’m telling you first, since you’re my manager.’ He pushed a couple of pieces of paper across the table and added with great relish, ‘Here. These are the forms you’ll need to sign to OK that.’

  Rodney pushed the pieces of paper hastily back, shaking his head. ‘I’m sure you don’t mean this, Brad. It’s—’ he paused and his voice took on a solicitous tone that was as false as his smile, ‘the anniversary of Helen’s death soon, isn’t it?’

  Brad nodded, feeling his face muscles tighten. He had never discussed his feelings with Rodney and never would.

  ‘You’re bound to be feeling a bit down. Look, why don’t
you take a week off? We can manage without you for a few days, though it won’t be easy.’

  ‘No.’

  Rodney puffed out an angry breath. ‘I’m trying to give you time to think things through properly. You should—’

  ‘I shan’t change my mind. If it weren’t for my superannuation entitlements, I’d have gone two years ago.’

  Rodney glared at him. ‘Well, I won’t approve a year’s leave. I do have the power of veto on such things, you know. Your services are going to be needed on the big new training project.’ He took the papers, ripped them in half and tossed them in the bin.

  Brad shook his head, trying not to smile. ‘I’ll have to see the doctor then and ask about sick leave. I’ve been feeling rather depressed lately. In fact, that might actually be the best way to do things from a financial point of view. I’ve got lots of accrued sick leave. Yes, that’s a great idea, Rodney. Thanks. You’re doing me a favour by refusing, really.’

  He stood up and walked towards the door, turning only at the last minute to frown and say, ‘On the other hand, I’d rather do it my way by using up my holiday leave. Fewer hassles, you know. I’m really not up to hassles at the moment.’

  With a loud, patently false sigh, he left, but couldn’t help smiling broadly once he’d closed the door. He strolled back across the big open area to his office at the far side, a rare cubicle of privacy on the perimeter of a group of desks, ringing telephones and staring faces. For once, he didn’t stop to speak to any of his colleagues.

  But he couldn’t settle to work. His thoughts kept returning to Rosie and to the idea he’d been toying with for a while, of going to England and travelling round Europe. It all fitted together so neatly, as if it was meant to be.

  * * *

  Gina woke up with a start, covered in sweat, and gaped in shock at the glowing green numerals on the clock/radio. Nine o’clock! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late. She usually enjoyed getting up early, especially during the hotter months, waking at six or even earlier.

  Then she remembered what she’d discovered among her father’s papers, something which had kept her awake until the small hours, and she groaned softly. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t. But as she showered and snatched a hasty breakfast, she knew it was, didn’t even need to look at those papers to check.

  She pulled them out of the bag and checked anyway. Yes, she’d remembered the date on the second marriage certificate quite correctly.

  Her parents hadn’t got married until she was ten years old!

  She didn’t mind about them living in unwedded bliss, but she did mind them pretending they’d got married the year before she was born, counting off the supposed number of years each wedding anniversary and including her in their little celebrations.

  They’d lied to her!

  She minded that very much indeed.

  There were some envelopes with faded Australian stamps in the carrier bag, addressed to members of his family in England. Jake Everett was the name on some of them, Peggy Everett on the rest. That wasn’t his wife’s name, so who were these people? Children? Did she have a half-brother and sister? The mere idea of that made her clutch the envelope to her bosom and close her eyes. So often as a child she’d longed for a brother or sister.

  Or were these people her father’s siblings? In which case she had an aunt and uncle.

  Why had the letters been returned unopened, though?

  She studied them. They all had the same address, scored through with a heavy hand and ‘Not wanted at this address, return to sender’ written in big capital letters.

  She wondered whether to open them, but didn’t feel she ought to. It would seem like prying into something very private.

  Then she gasped as another thought occurred to her. Perhaps she could go and find these people, give them the letters in person? Surely after all this time they’d have lost their anger and be prepared to hear what her father had to say.

  She went to make herself a cup of English Breakfast Tea, her favourite in the mornings, and sat staring into space for so long it went cold.

  ‘Snap out of it!’ she told herself. She still had to finish clearing out her father’s house.

  Putting the letters away, she ate a bowl of cereal and set off. It took a full hour to drive up the freeway from Mandurah to her father’s house, what with major road works and the busy Saturday traffic. When she pulled up on the drive, she stood by her car for a minute or two, staring at the old weatherboard house with its sagging veranda, suddenly reluctant to go inside. She hoped desperately that there wouldn’t be any further shocks lying in wait for her.

  The house looked the same as ever. Only the garden betrayed a lack of care and attention. It had been beautiful before, her father’s hobby, with roses, petunias and flowering bushes to attract the birds. Now, it was merely tidy and she’d put the bird feeder away. She hadn’t time to do anything except weed the front, make sure the reticulation system was working and pay a man twenty dollars to mow the lawn every couple of weeks. Grass grew so quickly in the hot weather and the place had to look neat so that it could be sold.

  When she went inside, her strange mood evaporated and the house felt, as it had always done, peaceful and welcoming. She’d had a very happy childhood here. It suddenly came to her that what had happened didn’t change that and feeling better, she settled down to work on clearing the final bedroom.

  Her parents weren’t stupid or spiteful. They must have had a very good reason for what they’d done.

  At two o’clock there was a banging on the front door and Lexie yelled through the letter box, ‘Open up, Mum. We’re here to kidnap you again. It is Saturday, you know. You don’t have to work 24/7.’

  Gina hurried to unlock the door, wishing her car hadn’t given away the fact that she was here. Today she’d far rather have been left alone.

  Lexie stared at her. ‘Why did you lock the door? Are you all right? You look tired.’

  ‘I didn’t sleep very well.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Gina shrugged, wondered whether to explain why, then decided not to, not yet anyway. ‘It’s upsetting me, clearing out Dad’s stuff.’

  ‘I told you it wasn’t worth the effort. You should have given everything to a charity and let them clear the place.’

  ‘We’d all be several thousand dollars poorer if I’d done that.’

  Lexie stared at her. ‘You mean those horrible, lumpy old pieces of furniture are worth that much?’

  ‘So the valuer told me. At least they’ve taken them away now, so I shan’t be worrying about the house getting broken into. There’s probably nothing else of value left.’

  ‘I’ve got this afternoon free, so I can help you if you like, speed things up a little.’

  Ben began tugging at his grandmother’s jeans, holding his hands up to be cuddled so she picked him up. ‘Thanks for offering, Lexie love, but I need to do this myself. And anyway, you’d just throw everything away.’

  Lexie grinned. ‘Yeah, well, someone has to or you’ll never get it finished.’

  ‘Look, I’ve got everything sorted out into piles and you know what Ben’s like. Let me finish it my way. You could make me a cup of tea before you go, though. I’ve brought some of my own tea bags. Dad used to drink cheap rubbish.’

  ‘You and your fancy teas! Have you had any lunch?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘You always used to nag us to eat sensibly, so I’m going to return the favour now. I’ll go and buy you a sandwich at the corner deli and I’m staying to make sure you eat it. We don’t want you fainting when you’re babysitting Ben tonight.’

  Damn! Gina had forgotten about the babysitting. She would normally have brought her overnight things with her to save an extra journey, since Lexie’s house was the other side of her father’s from hers.

  When her daughter came back from the deli, Gina obediently ate the sandwich.

  ‘Mum… Did you know Mel’s pregna
nt again?’

  Gina gaped at her. ‘No, I certainly didn’t, though she didn’t look well last time I babysat. But she said she’d been doing extra hours at work. Why on earth didn’t she tell me?’

  ‘She’s upset about it because she’s sick as a dog again.’

  ‘Poor darling. My mother said she was the same when she was carrying me.’ Gina screwed up the piece of paper the sandwich had been wrapped in and threw it into a bag of oddments destined for the tip. ‘Time for you to leave now, Lexie. I’ll never get anything done with this young man messing up my piles.’

  ‘All right. See you tonight!’

  ‘What? Oh, yes.’ Damn! She’d have to leave early to go home and fetch her things. She was getting a bit tired of all the babysitting, something she’d never expected to feel in the first flush of joy at having grandchildren. No, she’d buy a cheap nightie and go as she was to Lexie’s. It was a warm day. She didn’t need anything else, could leave early tomorrow morning to go home.

  Since Tom’s death, both Lexie and Mel simply assumed Gina would be free any time they wanted her help, which had been three times last week, and she’d had to miss her book club meeting. If this went on she’d have no life of her own. She needed to put her foot down about it.

  She began to go through the final bits and pieces in grim readiness for any other nasty surprises. But she couldn’t settle to it with her usual efficiency, because one thought kept coming back to her.

  She might have half-brothers or sisters in England!

  The thought of that made something deep inside her ache, the same desperate longing for family that had haunted her childhood, something she thought she’d outgrown after she married. Tom had an older brother and a few relatives in Sydney, but apart from that one visit, he hadn’t kept in touch with them beyond a card at Christmas. None of them had bothered to come across to Western Australia for his funeral, which had seemed dreadful to her.