The Secret Daughter (28 page)

‘Oh . . .’

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but after a minute, Lilly seemed to decide that she needed to elaborate.

‘Her name is Tania. We don’t know very much about her son at all, but it sounds like he wasn’t placed with a great family and he’s pretty messed up. Tania hopes that one day he’ll be ready to reunite properly, but who knows if it’ll ever happen. She’s actually on the town council these days, and she runs a welfare agency,
and
she has formed a support group for other girls from rural homes like this one.’

‘She sounds amazing.’

‘She is,’ Lilly said. ‘Amazing and damaged, just like the rest of us in that support group. But at least we’re not
broken
, and plenty of the girls who came through here were.’

‘Why haven’t they demolished this place?’

‘I think they will soon. And on that day . . .’ She released me and linked her fingers through the chain again. ‘… I’m going to come here with my sledge hammer and do my part. See that door over there?’ I looked to the wide front doors, now sealed up with chipboard. ‘They locked us in at night. Right on the dot of 10 p.m. a nurse would double deadlock that door. There were girls who tried to escape, but the police always brought them back. We were prisoners here, locked away to be punished for our crimes. There were physical locks, and procedural locks . . . but the worst part was the emotional lock. You can trap a person quite easily if you convince them they’re unworthy of escape.’ Lilly sighed and rested her forehead against the chain-link, then glanced back at me. ‘Tania and I tried to get out once, just before you were born. It was years before I told even James about it, I felt too embarrassed because we failed almost immediately. We snuck out of bed after the nurses had done the head count for the night, but we only made it as far as the fire exit. The door was alarmed, we didn’t even make it out of the building.’ Her face fell again and she stopped, her breathing laboured as she battled against the tears. ‘I tried, love. Between James and me, we tried
everything
to find a way to keep you.’

‘I believe you, Lilly,’ I whispered. ‘I can see how badly you wanted that.’

‘You know, I always thought of those months as the worst of my life … but I
do
have happy memories of my time here. I remember what it felt like to first fall in love with you, and how exciting those early weeks were when I was so sure that James was coming to take us both home. I’d been pretending I wasn’t pregnant until they admitted me here, and then there was this period where I finally acknowledged to myself that I was going to be a mum and I still thought James would find a way to get us out.’ Lilly offered me a sad smile. ‘I was such an optimist back then.’

‘And … Megan …’ I saw the way she tensed when I said Mum’s name, but I
desperately
wanted to hear something positive about her, and I pressed on. ‘You were saying she was kind to you? When you were in here, I mean.’

‘Oh, yes. I have memories of her too when I was confined.’ Lilly whispered. ‘In fact just about any positive thing that happened inside of these walls involved Mrs Baxter, and
all
of that is tainted now by what came after. She used to come and take me for walks so that I could get some fresh air, and she broke so many rules for me. Without Mrs Baxter, James wouldn’t have even known I was pregnant until after I was released. It was winter when I was here, freezing just like this all of the time, and she got me new clothes and an extra blanket, and one day she took me for a hot chocolate in the hospital cafeteria. She was
kind,
Sabina, but that’s almost
worse
.
Now I ask myself . . . was it her plan all along? I just wish I
knew
. . . I wish I understood what it was about
me
that made her do what she’s done. Did I
invite
it somehow?’

THIRTY-TWO

Megan—September 1973

When I heard the crunch of tyres on the gravel driveway just after noon, I was confused, and for a split second, a little paranoid. I did a quick mental check of my situation. Had I broken the law – were the police coming for me already?

But, no – although I felt a little guilty, the truth was that I’d not done a single thing
wrong
. I walked to the kitchen window and was relieved, and a little amused at myself, when I recognised Grae’s car outside. I greeted him at the door with baby Sabina in my arms, and as he stepped out of his car, he paused and stared at us.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘Isn’t this just a sight? It suits you, Megan.’

There was a softness to his voice and his expression, and a depth of longing that I recognised with a distinct sense of discomfort.

‘Just practicing for when it’s our turn,’ I said, the words higher and thinner than I’d anticipated. Grae brushed a kiss over my cheek, and when I moved to step out of the doorway to make room for him, he gently caught my elbow and steadied me, then stepped back to stare at me again.

‘What are you—’

‘Just let me
savour
this for a moment, Meg,’ he said, and when I shot him a look of pure impatience, he ignored it. He stared at me while he inhaled slowly, and a grin gradually spread over and transformed his face. I’d always felt, on some level, that Grae was just a little too good for me . . . just a bit too handsome, a bit too charming, a bit too clever. He’d aged rapidly over the last few years, but watching that smile transform his face I was startled to realise that the tension and wear faded away as he stared at me with the baby. ‘Let’s go inside so I can take a look at her.’

‘I’ll put her in the bassinet and make you some lunch,’ I said, but Grae shook his head.

‘No, let me have a hold first.’ He extended his arms towards me, and I awkwardly passed him Sabina’s sleeping form. She sat much more naturally in his arms, and he peered down at her with an expression of pure wonder. ‘My God, she’s
adorable
.’

‘She’s a baby,’ I said, and that same stiffness was in my voice. ‘They all look pretty much the same. Besides . . . you won’t think she’s so adorable tonight when she wants milk.’

‘Don’t listen to cranky Meg, I’ll get up to you,’ Grae whispered, and he reached down with a forefinger to gently touch her cheek. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Sabina.’

‘
Sabina
,’ he repeated softly. ‘What a beautiful name. It suits her perfectly.’

I didn’t want to see him with that gleam in his eye, or the joy on his face as he nursed the tiny child. I busied myself with some bread and deli meat from the fridge.

‘So it went well at the hospital?’ Grae asked.

‘As well as could be expected. June was disappointed.’

‘Did she mention any chance of you coming back after we finish with the baby?’

I cleared my throat and shook my head.

‘No, they’ll have replaced me by then . . . I’ll find something else, I told you that.’

‘I know. I was just asking.’ Sabina squirmed and gave a tiny grunt, and Grae effortlessly shifted her up to his shoulder and began to rub her back. ‘What stuff do we need to buy?’

‘The hospital gave me most of it. I think we need more clothes, and some nappies and formula at some point. But I borrowed the bassinette from the hospital, so we don’t really need anything else in the way of furniture.’

Sabina grunted again, and I glanced back in time to see her give an almighty vomit down Grae’s back. Shock registered on his face, then he winced and gingerly lowered her back into a reclining position against his forearm. I stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

‘That feels like a lot of vomit,’ he said, then grimaced. ‘A
lot
of vomit. How much formula did you give her?’

‘A whole bottle. She must have been so thirsty.’

‘Meg, I’m pretty sure new babies don’t need that much milk.’

‘They don’t?’

‘No, they don’t.’

‘How do
you
know that?’

‘I was the oldest, remember. Mum fed Gilly with a bottle and I was twelve when she was born. I’m pretty sure it was no more than a few teaspoons at a time for the first few days.’

‘But . . . she kept drinking . . .’

‘Maybe you should just call the ward, and get some tips,’ Grae suggested, quite gently. ‘I don’t mind if she wants to vomit on me, but I don’t want her to be uncomfortable if her tummy is too full.’

So my first test of quasi-motherhood, something as simple as feeding Sabina a single bottle of milk, appeared to have been a complete failure. I ironed Grae a fresh shirt and trousers, while he held Sabina and ate his lunch, as if it was no big deal at all to him to be eating and nursing a newborn while his back was drenched in sick. Afterwards, he passed her back to me so I could change her jumpsuit, but in the time it took him to change his entire outfit I’d struggled to even get Sabina out of hers. Grae stepped in, and made it look like a simple operation. I hadn’t realised how floppy new babies are, or how difficult it was to push limp limbs in and out of clothes.

‘Don’t worry, Sabina, you’re in good hands . . . with me,’ Grae said, and he shot a wink my way.

‘Lucky it’s only for a few weeks,’ I muttered. I scooped the pile of messy clothing up carefully into my arms.

‘Ah, you’ll be a pro by then. You won’t want to give her back.’ Grae rested Sabina back into the bassinet. ‘I better get back to work. I’ll bring some formula and nappies home tonight to save you taking her out to the shops. You’ll call the ward and check about how much milk next time?’

‘They should have told me that when I picked her up.’

‘We’ve got lots to learn. But it’s all good practice, right?’ Grae grinned at me, then chased me across the room to swoop me into his arms. I dropped the soiled clothing and squealed as he dipped me backwards. My squeal faded into confused shock as he bent to kiss me tenderly.

‘Grae!’ I protested, and I pushed him away – after a moment or two. ‘What’s gotten into you!?’

‘I just think this is going to be
really
good for us,’ he said, and then he straightened his tie, planted a much more sedate kiss on my cheek, and headed for the door with a whistle.

THIRTY-THREE

Sabina—April 2012

The sun was now completely behind the building and we were standing in shade. It was bitterly cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to stifle my automatic shiver.

‘Their office was about here,’ Lilly said. She’d led the way along the street, to more boarded-up windows at the side of the building. ‘The social workers, I mean. Us girls didn’t get to go in there much, I only saw the inside once or twice when I was down at the nurses station and the door was left open. But I know that there was always paperwork and folders stacked up, almost to the roof. I know now from the support group I’m in that Mrs Sullivan was here for years and she did a terrible job with the paperwork. Dozens and dozens of families torn apart, with no proper paper trail between them so no hope of bringing them back together. I don’t know what became of her and I hate to wish evil on another human being but …’ Lilly let the words trail off, and she didn’t need to finish the sentence. She cleared her throat then looped her arm through mine and almost dragged me around the corner. ‘That was the window to the kitchen. Behind it was the dining room, and a little rec room where we could watch television for a few hours at night. I didn’t often go in there, mostly I stayed in my room and read books, but sometimes when I missed my siblings I’d sit in that room and try to pretend I was at home.’

We crossed the road now, towards the main hospital. Its footprint was an entire block, but it comprised a misshapen conglomeration of buildings in various materials and sizes. The tallest section was three storeys high, but all around it and clearly over many decades additions had been made. I glanced back to the car and saw that James was hanging back at a distance, but slowly following us.

‘What did you do when you left?’ I asked Lilly

‘I went home,’ Lilly whispered. ‘I didn’t want to. I didn’t have any choice. I stayed with my parents until I turned eighteen, and then as soon as I was an adult, I packed the same bag I took to the hospital with you and I walked across the paddocks and told Ralph and Jean that I was never going home.’

‘Ralph and Jean?’

‘James’ parents. They took me in, and James came home, and we married a few weeks later. I moved to Armidale with him while he finished his degree, and by then we had Simon so we all came back here to the farm. And you know the rest.’

She stopped again, at the fences around the main building. It was getting dark rapidly now and it was difficult for me to see what she was pointing at.

‘That was the entrance to the laundry. I spent all day, every day in there, except Sunday mornings when we walked to that damned church. And around here is the maternity ward …’

The doors and windows were now boarded up like the maternity home, with layers of weather-warped particle board. I was sure the effort to seal the building was to keep people
out
, but it looked a whole lot like someone was trying to trap the stain of the memories contained inside.

‘The first time I heard your heartbeat was in a room just here,’ Lilly whispered. ‘I thought you were a boy, actually, and then I heard the sound of your heart and I just
knew
. Do you have a feeling what your baby’s sex is?’

I shook my head.

‘Not yet, anyway.’

‘I didn’t with the other two, just with you. I never saw you on the ultrasound but I heard them talking about you and I knew you were healthy. That was early, just a month or two after I came here, and I thought I’d be able to keep you then if I just refused to sign you over. I was upset that day because they’d embarrassed me when they were doing the examination, but I remember having this gut feeling that you were a girl and I decided that if James would agree to it, I’d name you after my grandmother.’

‘You did mention her name last night but I’ve forgotten how you said it.’

‘
Sabinka
,’ Lilly murmured. ‘My father rarely spoke about his family, he lost most of them in the war and he was terribly traumatised by it – although, of course he’d never have admitted that. The one story he used to tell us was about one of his birthdays during the war. They were just barely surviving on rations at the time, and of course there were no gifts to be had. He was working in the fields with his brother and when he came home his mother had made them a huge feast of pierogis. He told me they were the best tasting pierogi he’d ever eaten, in
all
of his life … that even in all of the years since and with all of the prosperity here in Australia, he’d never tasted anything so good. He said that she’d made something magical for him out of absolutely nothing,’ Lilly finally seemed to acknowledge the cold, pulling her coat tighter around herself and digging her hands deep into her pockets. ‘I wanted to give you her name . . . partly because I thought it might appease Tata, I suppose, but mostly because that story was such a strength to me. Actually, it has been for my whole life. We come from a line of women who could make
something
out of
nothing
. That’s worth remembering, isn’t it?’