The Secret Daughter (35 page)
Read The Secret Daughter Online
Authors: Kelly Rimmer
When Grae came home for lunch, the paperwork was still on the table, but I’d signed and dated it and left the page open for him to see. He had repeated his usual routine and had Sabina in the crook of his arm.
He reached forward for the papers with his other hand and brought it close to read it, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
‘Please take it to June on your way back to work so that she can finalise things.’
I waited for him to protest at the middle name I’d chosen. Instead, Grae dropped the paper back onto the table. Then he lifted Sabina and rested her in the corner where his neck and shoulder met. He swayed a little, and he closed his eyes, and I watched the endless shades of joy breaking over him. I was watching the man that I loved becoming a father as surely as if I were present at the birth of his child.
Here
was my reward for the terrible thing that I’d agreed to do.
When he opened his eyes, I met his gaze, and the thoughts that passed between us were not given words. It would be almost forty years before we’d raise the subject of the adoption again – the paperwork denied those frightful early weeks, and we were content to play along, even in the intimacy of our own relationship. We didn’t need to speak about it; we both knew that we were now complicit in the deception together.
Grae did not realise it yet, but
I
knew that we would be
guilty
together too. The guilt and shame of it all was the shared price that we would privately pay to create
this
family.
I knew that every time Sabina cried and I felt irritation at the sound, somewhere else in the universe Lilly would be longing with all of her heart to hear that same cry. I knew that there’d be a million more smiles over the years and that every time I enjoyed one I’d be committing another act of theft. I knew that Grae would love Sabina with all of his heart, but that James would have done that too, and however big our love for her grew to be – their loss would
always
dwarf it.
‘We will have to move back to Sydney,’ I said, after a while. ‘I’m not going to be able to do this on my own . . . I think the past few weeks have shown that. I’ll need my family to help. Plus . . . I don’t want any complications arising . . . and if we stay out here . . . we’re just . . . it’s just too close to them. There’s just too much potential for messy run-ins.’
Grae looked at me at last. Then he smiled, and at least in that moment, all of the years of longing and pain had been wiped clean from his face. He was that charming young man I’d married, and I loved him so deeply that there were no limits on what I’d do for his happiness.
‘You’ll see, Megan,’ Grae said, after a while. ‘You’ll see that this is for the best. For all of us.’
EPILOGUE
21 March 2013
Mama Lilly and Papa James were running late.
Mum was sitting beside me shaking so hard that my chair was shaking too. I took her hand, more to hold her still than to calm her. Every now and again, I heard a little squeak from deep in her throat – a whimper of sorts. Mum was as unsettled and anxious as I’d ever seen her.
Around us, hundreds of people were taking their seats. The Great Hall of Parliament House was full, the space both bursting with people and laden with grief. The event hadn’t even started yet, and already I’d seen countless people sobbing.
I kept glancing at my watch, because Mama could
not
miss this. She’d texted me a few minutes earlier to say that they were still trying to find a parking space, and I’d have run out and given her mine if there’d been a way to do it without leaving Mama and Mum to reunite without me here to support them both.
‘Please take your seats,’ some nameless suit spoke softly into the microphone, and I released Mum to stand and look around for Mama. I saw her slip through the door just before it was closed. She was wearing a beautiful pink and purple dress, the colours bright and striking, and a pair of hot pink sandals that I’d helped her select on one of our monthly weekends with her. Mama was running – Papa coming in several steps behind her as he often did. She saw me and waved, and then she beamed.
This was my Mama’s day.
Her footsteps slowed as she approached us, her gaze fixed on Mum. It had been
Mama’s
insistence that Mum should be here, and I’d actually tried to talk her out of it at first. I couldn’t quite believe that they wanted to meet at
all
, but today hardly seemed the day.
This
was the day that the Prime Minister was going to apologise for the hurt and damage caused by forced adoption policies.
But Mama had been adamant that Mum should attend, and I’d already learned not to mess with Liliana Wyzlecki when she set her mind on something. She and Mum had crossed paths electronically over the past six months – both working to collate stories of other families affected by forced adoption. Mum had also joined forces with the lobby group who had worked towards this apology, and in recent months had returned to full time work supporting and reuniting affected families.
Mama felt that Mum should be at the apology too. She said that she’d earned it. That was nice in theory, but I was nervous about them coming face to face. Mama had come a long way in a short time, but I was terrified that she was asking too much of herself.
Mum rose as Mama approached, and so I did too. Mama hugged me, and then Papa too, and finally they both stood in front of Mum. It was my turn to shake, this time with adrenaline.
‘I’m so sorry—’ Mum started to say, but Lilly shook her head. Her lips were compressed into a tight line and there was such a tension in the way that she held herself that I was suddenly sure that I had been right all along and that this was a terrible, terrible mistake. I wondered if she was going to launch herself at Mum and physically injure her.
Lilly did raise her arms, but as I hastily moved to intervene, she pulled my Mum into one of her those overwhelming embraces that I’d come to love so much. Mum was stiff at first, but no one could resist the all-encompassing warmth of Mama Lilly’s hugs. My mothers stood like that, both sobbing, until almost everyone else in the Great Hall had taken their seat.
When they finally sat, they took the seats on either side of me. Mama sat very close to me and took my left hand between both of hers. Mum took my right hand, and I was right there in the middle . . . just as I always had been, I suppose.
I had wondered what good this apology would do for us all. Could anything undo the damage done, could any mere words achieve healing that would not come through time alone? There was an astounding energy to the room though, and from the minute the Prime Minister took the stage, I understood why so many people had fought for so long to see this happen.
It was just as Lilly had said to me. It’s by bringing the ghosts to light that we lay them to rest.
In that crowd of officials and dignitaries and other affected families I listened, and I cried, and I thought about the childhood I’d had, and the childhood I
would
have had. Then my thoughts turned to my precious son Hugo, just a few months old and safe back at the hotel with Ted and Dad. It was my first full day away from him, and it would have been easy to fret about the small things. Had Ted had given him enough milk? Was he remembering to change his nappy?
Then I’d tune back into what was happening around me and the context of it would make me dizzy. Hugo would be waiting for me, and in just another few hours, I would take him back into my arms. I promised myself that I would always remember to be grateful for the privilege of parenting him.
I would be a warm mother like Lilly – generous with my hugs and my emotions. I would wear bright clothes and I would beam at people and I would cook up a storm at the slightest invitation to do so.
But I would also be a strong mother like Megan – fierce when I needed to be, and endlessly supportive. I would drag Hugo to speech therapy if he needed it, and I would gently bully him towards hard work if he’d inherited my tendency to avoid it.
I had the best of both worlds now, and because of that,
Hugo
would have the best of both worlds in
his
mother.
As the Prime Minister closed out her speech, we rose automatically for a standing ovation. I looked to Mama, who was clapping and cheering and weeping and beaming. Every now and again she’d stop all of that and pull me close for a hug, then she’d go right back to it. For my Mama,
nothing
could undo the damage caused by forced adoption, but our reunion and now the government’s apology were vital steps in the right direction.
Mum was clapping too in her much more reserved fashion, her guilt and shame etched onto her face. No amount of tireless charity work was going to redeem my Mum, although the work leading to this apology was at least a start towards her finding peace with herself.
As messy as it was,
this
was my family now – birthed in good intentions gone astray and the heartbreaking decision that had changed all of our lives. As much as we could, we would let the past rest behind us as we worked to build the future
together
.
Mama and Mum might never be friends, but for me and for Hugo, they
would
be family.
And because of that we had a second chance, together.
LETTER FROM KELLY
Thank you so much for reading
The Secret Daughter
. I hope that Sabina, Lilly and Megan’s story touched your heart. Although this is a work of fiction, forced adoption was unfortunately a very real part of recent history in many parts of the world. You can find more information about former forced adoption practices in Australia at the National Archive of Australia’s Forced Adoption History Project online.
If you enjoyed this book,
I’d be so grateful if you’d take the time to write a review
. I really appreciate getting feedback, and your review will help other readers find my books.
Finally, if you’d like to receive an email when my next book is released, you can sign up to my mailing list here:
I’ll only send emails when I have a new book to share and I won’t share your email address with anyone else.
Kelly
P.S. If you enjoyed
The Secret Daughter
, I think you’d also like
Me Without You
— read on to find out more…
ME WITHOUT YOU
Don’t miss Kelly’s debut novel,
Me Without You
.
A story of how love can break our hearts – and heal them.
A year ago I met the love of my life. For two people who didn’t believe in love at first sight, we came pretty close.
Lilah MacDonald – beautiful, opinionated, stubborn and all kinds of wonderful in ways that words could never quite capture. The woman who taught me to live again.
My Lilah, who gave me so much, and yet kept from me a secret that she knew would break my heart.
My name is Callum Roberts, and this is our story.
Me Without You
is a book to make you smile, bring you to tears and remind you to hold on tightly to those you love.
ALSO BY KELLY RIMMER
Me Without You
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have been outrageously lucky to work once again with the team at Bookouture on this book, particularly Oliver Rhodes – I can’t thank you enough. Emily Ruston, thank you so much for your patient assistance, particularly when I found myself lost in my ideas. And Jennie Ayers, thank you for the marvellous work you did on the copy edit.
To friends and family who assisted with ideas and feedback on early drafts – Melissa, Tracy, Mum, Aunty Chris and Jodie – thank you. And Sally – thanks for your eagle eye!
To my ‘Phocas phamily’ – particularly Cody, Bill and Val – thanks for all of the support.
I can be obsessive, grumpy and unsociable when I’m caught in the grip of a story – so the biggest thanks of all is reserved for my husband Dan, our amazing children and my ever-patient friends and family – thank you all for putting up with me during the development of this book.
And finally, a note of clarification: although many maternity or ‘mother and baby’ homes existed in Australia until the mid-to-late twentieth century, the setting of this novel (the ‘Orange Maternity Home’) is a fictional institution.
Published by Bookouture, an imprint of StoryFire Ltd.
23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN
United Kingdom
Copyright © Kelly Rimmer 2015
Kelly Rimmer has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-910751-07-7
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