The Secret Daughter (30 page)

‘Well, yes . . . but I only teach music – I do classes with primary school children. I’m not a
proper
teacher.’ Charlotte was still staring at me, as if she hadn’t heard a word I’d said, so I tried again to clarify, ‘My degree was in music, I did a post grad certificate in education.’

‘Interesting,’ Charlotte said, although her tone suggested that it was anything but. ‘Have you all had a nice day, getting to know one another?’

‘It’s been marvellous,’ Lilly said, and she gave me yet another one-armed hug.

‘Lilly said you own a salon?’ I tried to shift focus back to Charlotte.

‘I do,’ Charlotte said. I waited, expecting her to elaborate. She flashed me a smile and rose. ‘Is Simon getting drinks? I think I need a wine.’

‘He’s at the bar,’ Emmaline confirmed.

‘Can I have a lemonade, Mum?’ Neesa asked hopefully.

‘Stay here with Nan and Papa, and be
good
,’ Charlotte instructed, then left the table. I glanced at Ted, and he raised his eyebrows at me. So I wasn’t imaging it – Charlotte was decidedly chillier than the rest of the Wyzlecki family.

‘This must be so weird for you,’ Emmaline said quietly.

‘It’s different,’ I admitted, ‘but I’m so glad to be here.’

There was a grunt from within the pram, and I saw Emmaline immediately wince and shoot to her feet. She hushed the baby, rocking the pram gently, and after a moment I saw the relief in her face.

‘I love them, but by God, I miss my sleep. Lilly told us you’re expecting your first, Sabina?’

‘I am.’

‘I hate to say this, Sabina . . . but evil newborns are genetic in this family. Most of our babies have reflux from birth.’ Lilly sighed. ‘Simon
always
slept like an angel, but Charlotte and Neesa were nightmares and so were my sisters. I always thought it was just the girls until Dominic was born.’

Ted silently entwined our fingers and rested our hands on my thigh.

‘Good times ahead, then?’ he laughed softly.

‘Lilly will help you,’ Emmaline assured us. ‘She has such a knack for babies.’

I glanced at Lilly, and she beamed at me. I knew that we were both thinking the same thing – that I would indeed ask for and accept her help, and what a wonderful gift that would be to both of us. She would be a part of my newborn baby’s life; even if, as predicted, that baby was a terrible sleeper and would turn my world upside down. For everything we’d missed, here was something magical about to happen, and we’d found each other just in time.

Charlotte and Simon returned to the table. She was carrying the tray of drinks, Simon a tray of empty champagne flutes, with a bottle of champagne tucked awkwardly under his arm. After they’d passed the drinks around, and Charlotte had taken her seat again, Simon remained standing. He quietly poured seven glasses of champagne, and then decanted some lemonade from Neesa’s cup into the last flute. Once everyone had a glass in hand, he raised his towards me.

‘It just seems right to stop for a minute before we do anything else, and to toast you, Sabina. There has been a hole in this family that is the exact shape of you and it’s been there forever, but now you’re back to us,’ Simon stopped, and pressed his fist against his mouth for a moment as he battled against the tears I could see in his eyes. After a moment, he then cleared his throat and laughed self-consciously. ‘Here’s to the Piper family finally –
finally –
being complete. We can’t wait to get to know you.’ He reached across the table and gently tipped his glass against mine, then added softly, ‘Welcome home, big sister.’

The rest of the family –
my
new family – quietly echoed his words, but I held my glass and felt the gentle bumps of their glasses against mine. There was not a chance in hell that I could hold back my tears after that, and I looked around each of them, completely overwhelmed.

‘T-thank you.’ I choked. Lilly pulled me close for a too-tight hug, and I flashed a very teary smile to James, who raised his glass silently towards me a second time with a grin.

‘We need a photo!’ Lilly cried, and she waved frantically to a waitress across the restaurant.

‘Something wrong, Lilly?’

‘No, sweetheart, everything is absolutely
right
,’ she laughed. Simon withdrew a camera from the bottom of the pram and gave the waitress a quick lesson on how to use it, and then he and Charlotte crept around to stand behind James and Lilly. There was some awkward shuffling of the twins, with Dominic soon seated with Emmaline and Neesa holding up Valentina as if she were a doll.

‘A photo is a great idea,’ I said softly to Lilly.

‘I’ve waited thirty-eight years for a real family photo,’ Lilly said. ‘This one’s going to be enlarged so big I might have to get it made into wallpaper.’

‘Okay, three . . . two . . . one . . . cheese!’ the waitress called.

A wave of chatter broke almost instantly, the babies were quickly returned to their pram and the adults picked up menus. Charlotte and Simon started debating whether or not Lilly’s habitual preference for this particular bistro was ever going to pass.

But I lingered in the perfect moment, unwilling to let it pass. It had been captured in time by the camera but that just didn’t seem enough. I stopped and let myself savour the welcome that Simon had given me, even though that meant that soon I was the only person at the table sitting in silence, fresh tears running unhindered down my face.

I consciously stopped and tried to remember everything about it – the scents and the sights and the sounds of my first moments there with my family. I felt loved and wanted and accepted – truly and completely
embraced.

It felt a lot like coming home.

Over dinner, I saw the dynamic of the Piper family at work. Simon was loud and jovial, cracking jokes with Ted and teasing me about my supposedly terrible taste in ‘fancy’ beer. Charlotte was, for the most part, quieter, but when she spoke, a sharpness came and went in her tone, as if she was trying to hold back bitterness, and not always succeeding. Emmaline was sweet-natured and warm, and Neesa was just awestruck. Whenever I spoke to her, she’d giggle and blush.

‘How do I become a real musician?’ she asked me.

‘I think the best thing you can do, other than
loads
of practice, is to listen to different styles of music. A lot of kids just listen to pop. Try to listen to some classical and to world music and older styles of rock and my
favourite
, which is jazz.’

‘I can do that,’ Neesa was staring at me, wide-eyed. She glanced to Charlotte. ‘Can you buy me some new music?’

Charlotte raised her eyebrow at me and offered a slightly sarcastic,

‘
Thanks
for that.’

Every time I looked to Lilly or James, they were silently watching us interact. I wondered how many times Lilly had pictured this moment in her mind, and whether it was playing out as she thought it would. There was no awkwardness at all here – it wasn’t nearly as intimate as the chats between Lilly and I had been. There were more people to bounce questions off, and an easier small talk flowed. By the time we were finishing our meals, I found myself so engaged in the conversation that it felt completely
natural
.

Lilly started packing up the plates as we finished with them.

‘Come on, Neesa,’ she said, gently scolding as she reached for her grand-daughter’s plate. ‘What’s that doing there?’

Neesa had ordered her regular chicken meal, but she had left a small portion untouched.

‘I’m not hungry, Nan,’ she said.

‘Just have a few more bites,’ Lilly was insistent. ‘It’s terrible manners to leave food on your plate, darling.’

I glanced down at my plate. I’d eaten most of my risotto – it was delicious, a creamy mix of wild mushrooms and white wine. I’d enjoyed every bite, but I’d left sizeable corner of the serving anyway. I could hear Mum’s voice echoing in my head,
restaurants always serve far too much food, you should never eat the whole serving
.

‘But Nan . . .’ Neesa was complaining for the first time all night.

‘Hurry up, Neesa. Finish it up and you can order your ice cream.’ Neesa sighed and took another slow, reluctant mouthful. ‘Good girl.’

I picked up my spoon and took another bite of my risotto, letting the creamy rice roll around my tongue. Those final bites were somehow the most delicious.

THIRTY-SIX

Megan—September 1973

At first, it really was very easy.

In the first few days that Sabina was in our home, once I’d had some advice about newborn stomach volume, she just slept most of the time. I caught up on some reading and gardening, and enjoyed the early spring sunshine. I quickly got used to changing her nappies and keeping on top of the laundry.

And initially, I was actually amused by the sudden change in my husband. It wasn’t that he’d been unhappy before Sabina arrived, but he was certainly
much
happier now. He came home for lunch and made it look easy to eat a messy salad sandwich with one hand while he nursed her with the other. He often got up to her when she cried at night, and every day he came home with something from the stores . . . generally toys, which I continually told him that she would not need while she was with us, but he just shrugged and said she could take them with her when she went to her real parents. Grae kept the house stocked with formula and nappies and had some kind of automatic instinct about caring for her. If she was unsettled, he somehow seemed to know
why
.

As the days stretched into a second week, I began to suspect that somehow, I was
lacking
that instinct. Sabina was awake more, and unsettled much more, and I found that those lazy hours to relax or even keep on top of the housework disappeared overnight. Grae could walk in and hear her crying and he’d go right to a bottle or her nappy or pick her up for a cuddle, but for me it was a process of painful elimination. Sometimes, when she was really upset, I’d get so flustered that I’d forget altogether about even the obvious things. Grae came home from work on Friday afternoon to find Sabina and I both sobbing, and within two minutes he had me settled with a glass of wine on the deck while Sabina greedily drank a bottle of milk in his arms. Apparently, I just plain forgot to give her lunch.

It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy having her in our home. Emotions dawn slowly in me, and they build by degrees over time, but I’ve always been like that. I didn’t fall in love with Graeme, so much as inch toward the edge of love, and then lower myself in gently over months and years. It was the same with Sabina. In those very early days I could quite easily hold myself at a distance, doing the job I’d committed to: acting as her professional and
temporary
nurse.

And there’s no sugar coating it: they were difficult days. She was not an easy child to care for, she suffered terribly with reflux and I rode the waves of her pain with her. She’d go from screaming with hunger to screaming in pain in only a few minutes, and I could never really tell what it was she was looking for – was it more milk? Less? A burp? A nappy change?

Or . . . her
mother
?

Sometimes, I caught myself wondering if a child could even love me the way it should. Was it karma? Or some kind of universal truth? My body was not conducive to fertility, maybe that extended to how I would nurture – maybe Sabina saw the deficiency in me, and that’s why she was so miserable? Graeme said it was because I got so upset around her, and in time I realised there was some truth to that. On the bad days it was like she was tied to me and I couldn’t put her down, but the more upset I got, the more upset
she
got. We fed off each other, and as soon as Grae walked in the spell would break, and she’d be contented again. I could see the logic and rationality in all of that, but in the thick of it, it was impossible to stop myself from taking it personally.

I’d remind myself that this was only for a little longer, and I planned to spoil myself when Sabina finally went home. I intended endless sleep-ins, trips to the beauty salon, and reading . . . day after day of blissful reading in peace and quiet. I had to keep adding to that list though, because for a while it seemed like every new day was worse than the one before. Sabina soon slept and ate on her own schedule and day or night she was squirming and grunting as if she was in pain. I made a few frantic trips back to the hospital, where the midwives and doctors would check her over. Mild reflux, the doctor would say, and the midwives would tell me to hang in there and send me home.

I had no idea what sleep deprivation could do to a person’s state of mind, but Sabina quickly taught me. I found myself walking around the house in a fog of exhaustion, barely meeting my own basic needs. The occasional flashes of tenderness I felt towards Sabina reminded me somewhat of Stockholm Syndrome – I was trapped with and by her, and that thought alone made it easier to resist any chance I might bond with her. It was with a kind of desperate longing that I looked forward to the day that Lilly would call to ask for Sabina. I couldn’t wait until my life became
mine
again.

When the phone rang early one Monday morning and I recognised Lilly’s voice on the line, I watched the fog recede and I stared towards a window, where the day instantly seemed to have brightened.

‘Is she okay?’ was Lilly’s first question, delivered both with fluency and desperation.

‘She’s just fine,’ I assured her. ‘You’re discharged?’

‘They made me stay a while, the doctor wanted to make sure my body was healing okay. But yes, I’m out n-now. I had to go home to my family.’ Her words were increasingly uneven. ‘It’s horrible, Megan. I can’t even look at Tata, I’m so angry with him. But the solicitor said our easiest shot at the marriage licence was for Tata to give his consent, so I had to come home and try to convince him.’

‘So, that’s the plan, then? Have you talked to him yet?’

‘I’ve tried, but he’s still so mad at me, it didn’t go very well. And James had to go back to university while we wait, he has exams coming up so couldn’t miss anymore school. But he’s back in a few weeks and we’re going to try to talk to Tata together then.’