The Ripple Effect (16 page)

“Jo’s given me her doctor’s name.”

“Call him then and he’ll be able to refer you to a gyno. It’s much better to have a specialist just in case there’s a problem along the way.”

“Do you think there will be?” she asked in alarm.

“Of course not. You look fine but no-one can guarantee anything.”

“All right, Doctor,” she said and laughed. “Thanks. I guess I’ll be seeing you quite a bit from now on.”

“Maybe.” Shay waved and left her standing waving next to the Beetle.

Back at home, Mel’s idea ran rampant in his head. Contact all the Graysons in Toowoomba and radiate out from there. He sat down at his computer with a piece of defrosted pizza in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. He put the glass down, took a bite of pizza and began composing a letter.

He ground to a halt very rapidly. He typed, “I am trying to contact any relatives of…” and stopped. He didn’t know their first names.

Stan answered the phone after a couple of rings.

“Stan Brookes.”

“Hello, Dad.”

“Shay, how are things? Any news?” He realised with a start of guilty remorse he hadn’t told them anything of his results.

“Good—brilliant—Dad. I found her. My sister. Her name is Joelle Paice and she lives in Sunshine Point near Wollongong.”

“Have you contacted her yet?” Stan’s voice was measured and calm.

“Yes. I found her a week ago but Dad, she didn’t know she was adopted and her parents didn’t want me to talk to her. I met them last week.”

“They hadn’t told her?”

“No. It’d got to the point where they were afraid to tell her because of how it made them look.”

“Oh Shay, mate,” groaned Stan. “We warned you it might cause trouble.”

“Yes, you did but it’s all right. They were glad, I think, to have it all in the open. They told her today while I was there. She was upset with them but she’ll get over it. They’re a very loving family and she’s had a happy life. Her sister is staying with her so she’ll be fine.”

“What does she look like?” asked Stan softly.

“She wants to meet you,” said Shay. “We thought we’d come at Easter. She has deep blue eyes and reddish blonde hair, curly. She’s very pretty. Small boned but not a small girl. More delicate. Fair skin.”

“Sounds just like her mother,” said Stan.

“That’s what I thought from your description.”

“We’d love to meet her. So would Olive.”

“Dad, we want to find our father if we can. I thought we may be able to track him down through her parents. Kind of work forward from there.”

“You’ll probably discover some other relatives,” said Stan.

“Yes, I hope so. Do you remember their names—Emily’s parents?”

“Rebecca and Joseph. She had the mother’s name as her second name.”

“Thanks.”

“Keep in touch, son. Let us know what you find, won’t you?”

“Of course, Dad. How’s Mum?”

“She’s got a cold at the moment. Lost her voice or I’d put her on to say hello.”

“Tell her to stay indoors and rest,” said Shay.

“Funny, I seem to remember her saying the same to you starting when you were about eight. You took no notice.”

“No, well, I’m a doctor and Mum’s not eight. Give her my love.”

“Will do, son.”

Back to the letter. But first another slice of pizza hot from the oven. Juggling the steaming piece and dripping cheese and mushrooms onto the plate Shay faced the screen again. Vigorous two finger typing brought the letter to a stage where he was reasonably satisfied. He could do multi copies at work on Monday. No idea how many he’d need but a visit to the Post Office should solve that. He opened the Sydney phone directory for a rough figure. Not many. Less than two columns. If Joelle and Melanie helped they could cover them as well.

Joelle woke before dawn on Sunday. She was mildly surprised to discover she’d woken because she didn’t think she’d even been asleep. It seemed to her she’d lain wide eyed with thoughts tumbling about her head from the moment she’d crawled into bed. There was absolutely no chance now of more sleep despite the time. Her brain was awake and firing. She slipped out of bed, pulled on her red cotton Japanese yukata with the white flying birds and padded barefoot to the kitchen. Standing on the balcony in the cool morning air with a cup of tea clasped in both hands, she stared out towards the ocean.

Last night’s storm hadn’t eventuated. A pink and yellow glow on the distant horizon marked the arrival of the sun. Another hot day on the way according to the forecast. She sipped the tea and the scalding liquid coursed down her throat.

Shay. She had to see him. They had so much to talk about, so many questions to ask and answer. Yesterday she’d been stunned, too shocked to think at all beyond the rush of anger that William and Natalie had lied to her all her life. Just thinking about it brought tears of impotent, uncomprehending rage. She didn’t want to see them, wouldn’t see them.

Joelle gritted her teeth, her mouth tightened into a hard line. She wouldn’t cry over them either. They’d denied her her birthright. Her brother, her family. How could she forgive them?

Shay.

The glow on the horizon grew stronger and the first rays broke over the surface of the gently heaving waves. Shining like molten metal. Brassy and hard. A shaft of golden light dazzled her so she had to drop her gaze to the treetops and houses, illuminated and fresh now in the clear morning air.

She drained the tea in her cup, a decision forming in her head. She would go to Sydney and visit Shay. Spend the day with him and begin to acquaint herself with the man she should have known all her life. And he would begin to know about her, the sister he’d sought for so long.

Dressed and ready to leave by six thirty, Joelle scribbled a note for Mel saying she’d be home that night. The roads would be clear so early in the morning. She’d be in the city in under an hour and a half, including a petrol stop.

Joelle stood beside the Beetle holding the nozzle in the tank as the pump clicked and whirred, racking up the dollars at an alarming rate. Maybe she should telephone and tell him she was coming. It was very early—too early to call someone on a Sunday. The pump stopped. Forty-two dollars. She replaced the nozzle, screwed the cap firmly onto the tank and headed for the cashier. Unless he was like her and hadn’t slept. Wait until she was closer. Ring about eight. Was he a churchgoer? She had no idea. Her hands smelled of petrol.

Joelle left the freeway and stopped again in a deserted side road somewhere near inner city Darlinghurst to study her Sydney map for Shay’s street. He’d written his address on the back of the card with his phone numbers. The stick-on dashboard clock said ten to eight. Not too early.

She pressed the numbers with a trembling finger, missed the four once and had to start again. Ringing. Click.

“Hello.” His voice blurred with sleep.

“Shay, it’s Joelle.”

“Joelle!” Now he was wide awake. “I’m glad you called.”

“Is it too early?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Shay, can I come to visit you? I need to see you. I have so many things I want…” He cut her off.

“Yes, yes of course. Me too. When?”

“Now?”

“What, today?” Surprise? Or shock?

“Is that all right?”

“Sure it is. It’s wonderful.” He was laughing as he spoke and Joelle laughed too at the happiness in the sound. “What sort of time were you thinking of coming?”

“In about fifteen minutes. Unless I get lost.”

“You’re here already?”

“Yes. I couldn’t sleep last night. I got up at about five thirty. Then I decided I wanted—needed—to talk to you. Now that I’m sort of used to the idea of having…you. Having a brother, a real one.”

“I’ll put the coffee on. Do you like coffee or tea for breakfast? There’s a bakery down the street—rolls and croissants for breakfast. I’ve got home made fig jam and lemon marmalade. Mum made it. Or we could go out somewhere. There are plenty of places around here.”

Joelle couldn’t stop smiling with delight at his delight evidenced by the torrent of excited words. It made her warm all over just from the sound of his voice. “I don’t mind. Anything. I just want to be with you. Whatever you like.”

“I’d better get myself organised. Out of bed. See you soon, Joelle.”

“See you soon, Shay.”

He lived in a terrace house just off the main street of Glebe. There was a pub on the corner opposite with an empty parking area—fortunately, because the narrow street was lined with residents’ cars and signs forbidding unlicensed parking. Joelle locked the Beetle and walked diagonally across and down the road to number fourteen. Painted cream with forest green window frames and door, neat brick path across a tiny garden of ferns and begonias. Upstairs balcony with a beautiful iron lacework railing painted black.

The front door opened before she’d closed the little green painted wrought iron gate.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello.” Joelle stopped and stared up at him standing above her on the front step, freshly shaven, in t-shirt and jeans, barefooted, with that heartbreaking smile. His hair was damp from his shower. Her heart thudded so hard she was amazed he didn’t comment on the dull pounding. She swallowed. He was her brother; she must remember he was her brother. But how did she turn off that incredible rush of attraction whenever she laid eyes on him. What Mel said was absolutely true—what if they’d never discovered the relationship and been free to explore what she was convinced he had initially felt just as strongly?

“Is it okay for me to park over there at the pub?” she blurted for want of anything more sensible to say and because the silence and his scrutiny were far too uncomfortable.

“Yes. This early no-one will care.” He stepped aside and extended his arm. “Come in.”

Joelle stepped up beside him. He was in the doorway so she’d have to squeeze by. A fresh smell of soap, Shay and clean washed cotton made her pause and breathe deeply. He bent to brush his lips across her cheek as she hesitated. “I’m so glad you came,” he murmured. Heat rushed to her face as she remembered that other kiss on her parents’ doorstep. Would she ever live that down? Would he ever comment on it? Tease her like a brother? Could they ever be as comfortable as she and Bridge and Mel were?

The front door opened into the living room. Steep, narrow stairs went up to a second floor. Shay led the way through to the kitchen. Glass doors opened onto a brick terrace and a narrow back yard with a wooden table and two benches on a strip of sunlit grass under a solitary tree.

“I thought we could sit outside,” he said. “But I haven’t been to the bakery yet. We can walk around now if you like.”

Joelle nodded. She didn’t care. She wanted to watch him, see how he moved, how he spoke, what he wore, the colours he liked, the books he read, the music he listened to, the way he decorated his house, the way he ate and the flavours and food he liked to eat. Look for similarities to her own tastes.

“I want to discover everything about you,” she said suddenly.

Shay closed the side door and locked it. “Yes.” He turned to face her. “I’ve dreamt about finding you my whole life. I can hardly believe I’ve finally done it. I want to know all about you too.”

“There’s not much about me,” said Joelle. “I haven’t led a very interesting life.”

Shay slipped his bare feet into a pair of cotton kung fu slippers.

“I think you’re fascinating,” he said with a smile. “Come on. Let’s see if we like the same things at the bakery.”

Joelle walked beside Shay and cast little sidelong glances at him until he caught her with a quick glance of his own. They both laughed and he said, shaking his head, “I can’t believe it.”

“No, neither can I,” returned Joelle with an unconscious emphasis that made Shay stop walking and turn to her, his forehead creased with concern.

“It must have been an awful shock. I’m sorry it turned out that way but I had no idea your parents hadn’t told you.”

Joelle sighed. “It’s not your fault. It’s theirs.” She started walking. “Shay, I don’t want to think about them right now. I’m too angry with them. And disappointed.” She clamped her lips firmly together to prevent them shaking. They weren’t her parents. They were William and Natalie. The traitors.

Shay walked beside her silently. They rounded the corner into the main street. Hardly anyone was abroad but the bakery was open with its array of fragrant, fresh baked croissants, Danish pastries, breads, cakes, buns, slices.

“Yum,” murmured Joelle. She was hungry, suddenly, starving with just that early cup of tea lining her stomach.

“Croissants?” suggested Shay.

“Yes please and an apricot Danish.”

“Four croissants, please and two apricot Danishes.” Shay gave the order and smiled at Joelle. “I like apricot, too. My treat,” he added as Joelle began opening her purse for coins

“Thanks. I’ll buy you lunch then. That’s if you don’t have plans,” Joelle added quickly and grimaced. “I’m sorry I just arrived on your doorstep. I didn’t even think you might be going somewhere today.”

Shay handed over the money and took the white paper bag of pastries from the assistant. “Thanks”. He turned to Joelle. “I was going to spend the day sending letters off to Graysons. Or, at least addressing envelopes. I’ll have to do copies at the surgery tomorrow.”

They began retracing their steps.

“Graysons where?”

“In Toowoomba and Brisbane. Plus Sydney, I thought.”

“Do you think we have relatives?” The ramifications of her history hadn’t completely sunk in. Another Gran, a grandfather, other aunts and uncles, different cousins? Joelle swallowed. Strangers.

“Sure to, somewhere.”

“But wouldn’t they have found them before? When I was born?”

“Not necessarily. People move and change their names and lose touch with each other. Sometimes deliberately.”

“Go overseas too, I suppose,” added Joelle. New relatives, adding to the family not replacing. Gran and the rest weren’t to blame for William and Natalie’s mistake. But they’d kept the secret and they must have known. They must have.

“Yes.”

“I want to go to Japan,” she said. Suddenly it seemed right, possible, even desirable. The sooner the dream became a reality the better. She could leave the nightmare behind. But what about Shay?