Andrea's Secret

by John Kelly

The sign outside the high set single story terraced house on Ipswich Road, Millers Bridge read, 'Western Family Agency.' Brad Murphy checked the details in the letter. Yes, this was the place. He folded the letter and parked his car outside. Inside, behind a reception counter, an attractive young woman was typing on the word processor. The room was tastefully appointed with carpet, a lounge area, coffee table with magazines. It was comfortable and relaxing, with soft music playing in the background. As Brad Murphy approached the young lady she turned her head in his direction and immediately recognized him from his television show.

  "Oh my goodness, you're Mr. Murphy aren't you?"

  "Yes that's right." Brad replied somewhat embarrassed.

  "What can I do for you?" she asked.

  "Could I speak with the manager please? I don't have an appointment, but I won't take a minute."

  "Just a moment Mr. Murphy. I'll see if Miss Macleod is free." The young woman picked up the phone. "Miss Macleod there's a gentleman here to see you; a Mr. Murphy, Brad Murphy actually, the one on television," she said with a silly giggle. "He says he won't keep you a minute."

  Seconds later a middle aged woman emerged from her office. She was tall and thin, in her fifties, brown hair swept up at the front, wearing a grey skirt and cream blouse with epaulettes. Peering over the top of her glasses hunched half way down her nose she smiled and extended her hand as she approached Brad.

  "Good afternoon Mr. Murphy, I'm Julie Macleod, how can I help you."

  "Good afternoon Julie, can I call you Julie?" Brad asked. "Yes certainly," came a rapid, inviting reply. Brad nodded. "I wonder if I might have a moment with you in private. It concerns an adoption your agency supervised many years ago."

  "By all means," Julie replied. "Would you like to come into my office?" she said.

  Seated comfortably in Julie's office, Brad began to explain his visit but was quickly interrupted.

  "Can I offer you some tea, or coffee?" Julie asked.

  "No thanks, I won't keep you long." Brad replied.

  "Oh a soft drink then?" Julie asked as she flipped back her hair.

  "No nothing thanks," Brad replied.

  "Well then," she said, a trifle disappointed that the social side of the visit was cut short, "what can I do for you?"

  "I'm here representing the executors of the estate of Andrea Steedman, who passed away recently in Melbourne." Brad began.

  "Yes," Julie replied quickly. "How can I help?" she asked.

  "The terms of the will provide for her daughter Mary Therese Steedman, who was born here in Brisbane at Princess Alexandra Hospital in 1974. Mary Therese was put up for adoption through your agency a few months later. It was conducted from an office in Aston Park, which is now closed. The executors are trying to locate Mary, who would be twenty-two now, and thought that you might be able to help them."

  "I see," Julie said. "Do you have anything official for me to see, a letter requesting information or something? I mean, I know who you are of course, I watch your show on television," she added with a nervous grin, "but I would need something in writing before I could pass out any information. You understand I'm sure?"

  "Certainly," Brad agreed. "I can leave you with all the information they have passed on to me. It's all contained in this letter," he said as he passed the letter to Julie. She took a brief look, noting the letterhead of Sinner, Brady & Capper, Trustees and Executors, and the opening paragraph authorizing Brad to enquire on their behalf.

  "Yes, well this looks fine," she said nervously. "I don't have any information here for something going back this far. As you are aware, the Aston Park office is closed now, but we still use it to store records. The information you are seeking is most likely stored there somewhere."

  "So you don't have computer records handy?" Brad asked. "Not for something as far back as this." Julie answered. "What information were you looking for specifically?"

  "We're looking for anything that would help us to discover her whereabouts. The adoptive parents, her surname, anything," Brad said.

  "She could be anywhere now; a young woman just starting out in life," Julie said turning her head to the window. "Well, I'll do what I can. It will take a day or two to sift through it all. Of course under the provisions of the Adoption Act, I would have to check with the Department of Communities who, strictly speaking are the only adoption agency in Queensland. We only conduct assessments for them. They will have to approve the release of such information."

  "Will they do that?" Brad asked.

  "Yes, provided no objection has been lodged by either party. Can I contact you somehow?" Julie asked.

  "Yes, of course," Brad answered, and handed over his business card. "You can call me anytime on my mobile."

  "Is this sort of thing something you do often?" Julie asked, curious that a well known television personality would be making enquiries of this nature, and hoping to extend the conversation a few more minutes."

  "No," Brad replied. "I'm doing this as a personal favour for one of the executors, Warwick Steedman. We have known each other for years and it was just convenient for me to be able to help."

  "Oh," Julie said, looking surprised, a trite confused, and uncomfortable. "Well then, let me see what I can find out and I'll call you back."

  Julie walked with him as Brad passed out through the reception area, nodding his appreciation to the receptionist.

  "Okay then," he said, turning once more to Julie. "I'll look forward to hearing from you shortly."

  "Yes, I will call you as soon as I find something," she answered.

  As Brad walked away from the agency, Julie Macleod watched him intently and her face went white with fear. Thoughts raced across her mind. 'What in God's name is going on here? What the devil is he up to? Is he testing me? The Campbells? So long ago. Where on earth would they be now? How are we going to fix this?' she thought as she looked down and noticed her hands were shaking. 'My God! Andrea's letter! Where is it? What did I do with it?'

  As Brad drove back toward the city, he passed the Aston Park office of the agency where Julie had told him the records of adoptions going back to the time of Mary Therese's birth were stored. It was a run down timber shop-front premises, between two more modern dwellings, and looked quite out of place in an area that was undergoing redevelopment. The shop had no identification on the front door and the windows were covered with curtains, preventing any opportunity to peer inside. Satisfied that he had done enough at this stage, Brad headed for the Television studio where he was due to record another chat show.

  16.