by John Kelly
After calling Warwick Steedman with the news of the fire, Brad Murphy finished breakfast, and took the dogs for a walk along the beach. It was a little after ten o clock and the sun was now high above the horizon. The wide sandy expanse of the beach gave him a feeling of freedom, physically and mentally. The waves crashing into the shore with such fury exhilarated him as he watched Fixem and Mixem race after the two tennis balls he hurtled toward the water. The dogs loved the water. Nothing it seems would stop them from retrieving the balls, as they thrust themselves into the swell with a fearless determination.
As he walked, young children played at the water's edge, but Brad's thoughts kept returning to the news of the fire. It had been no more than a day and a half since he visited the Adoption Agency and spoke with Julie Macleod. She had been very helpful and co-operative. Perhaps she had been to the Aston Park office before the fire, and located the file on Mary Therese, he thought. Perhaps there was no need to be concerned that the information he sought might be lost. Perhaps he could call her. 'Yes call her.'
When he returned to the store with the dogs, Brad dialled the adoption agency number. Not surprisingly it was engaged and remained so for several subsequent attempts. He decided to leave the island early and drive to the agency on the way to the television studio, intending also to take a look at the fire scene along the way. All morning, the news of the fire bothered him. Even though the fire department had reported that it began in the adjoining property, it all seemed too much of a coincidence. He decided to take with him too, the address and telephone number of Elizabeth Ashford, the person who had handled the adoption of Mary Therese. If all else proved fruitless, he could at least continue his efforts, albeit from another direction.
Travelling north along the Brisbane-Gold Coast motorway, he took the Aston Park exit and merged with the Ipswich Road traffic. It was a warm, humid morning and he had the air-conditioner running in the car. At eleven o clock the normal hourly news bulletin on ABC radio began, and what he heard shocked him to the core.
'Here is the news?.Police have just advised that they have discovered a body in the shop destroyed by fire last night in Aston Park. The fire that began in the adjoining house completely destroyed both properties, and it was believed that no one was inside either building at the time. Police say that the as yet, unidentified body appears to be that of a male in his late thirties or early forties. They believe he may have been a homeless squatter using the unoccupied building as a shelter.'
Shocked and bewildered by this totally unexpected turn of events, Brad pulled off to the side of the road, and turned the engine off. He sat there for a few moments allowing time to digest the news. He then tried to call the agency again on his mobile phone. 'Still engaged!' Continuing his journey along Ipswich Road, he could see the fire scene ahead. The fire department still had one unit present. The Police had sealed off the block extending some one hundred metres and traffic was banking up as cars were being diverted to the opposite side of the road. With the traffic moving very slowly, Brad was able to take a close view of the damage as he drove past. There was little by way of any discernable structure of either house or shop remaining, and the ruins were still smouldering. "Keep moving please. Keep moving," the policeman called out as cars slowed down to take a look. Brad realized nothing could be learned from being there, and after passing by the scene, he once more pulled over to the side of the road, deciding to try the agency one more time. Finally he got through and asked for Julie Macleod.
"Julie Macleod," the voice said at the other end.
"Good Morning Julie, this is Brad Murphy. I came to see you two days ago. I just heard about the fire at Aston Park. Were you able to obtain the information I was asking for?"
"Umm, Brad, yes, err no. What was it about again?" she said sounding dazed and disoriented.
"I came to see you about an adoption you worked on in 1974. Mary Therese Steedman? You were going to check on some details for me." "Oh yes Brad. I am sorry. We are in a bit of mess here. Police and the press are everywhere. Umm, I'm afraid all our records at the Aston Park store are destroyed. There's nothing left. The only thing I can suggest is that you contact the Department of Communities and see if they will help you. They will have some information there I'm sure."
Disappointed but determined, Brad scribbled on a piece of paper. "Okay. I'll do that. Sorry to hear about the fire. I hope things get back to normal quickly," he said, deciding not to mention the body at the fire. 'None of my business,' he thought.
Not wanting to deal with a government department without first checking with Warwick Steedman, Brad chose to ring Elizabeth Ashford, the person whom Warwick said had handled the adoption of Mary Therese some twenty-two years ago. Dealing with government departments involved a lot of red tape. If there was a short cut, Brad knew Warwick would prefer that. Rifling though his papers he found the telephone number, and made the call.
"Good morning, my name is Brad Murphy. I wonder if I could speak with Elizabeth Ashford please."
"I'm Elizabeth Ashford," the frail voice replied.
"I'm sorry to bother you," Brad began, somewhat excited that he had reached her without any difficulty. "Are you the same Elizabeth Ashford who worked at the Western Family Agency in Aston Park some years ago?"
"Yes I worked there for ten years. But I haven't been involved with them now for a very long time," she answered
"I am making some enquiries concerning an adoption I am told you were associated with about twenty-two years ago. I wonder if it would be possible for me to come and see you."
"Oh dear, you are not a parent or something are you. I don't want to have to get involved in anything."
"No I'm not a parent. I'm making enquiries on behalf of the trustees of a deceased estate in Melbourne. They are trying to locate somebody. I won't keep you long, I promise."
"Who did you want to know about?" Elizabeth asked.
"The baby's name was Mary Therese Steedman. She was about three or four months old. The year was 1974."
"The name is vaguely familiar," Elizabeth replied after a brief moment of thought. Why don't you check with the agency?"
"I have, but unfortunately the building that was used to store the details of adoptions at that time, was destroyed by fire."
"My goodness. The building where I used to work?" Elizabeth asked. "Yes I'm afraid so. It only happened last night."
"Goodness. I haven't bothered to listen to the radio this morning. I've been out in the garden. What happened?"
"If I can just pop in to see you, I can tell you all about it," Brad said trying to push things along.
"Well, I suppose I could spare a moment," she answered.
"I won't keep you long," Brad promised.
"Well, I suppose it will be all right. What did you say your name was?"
"Murphy, Brad Murphy."
"Oh," she said with a girlish giggle, "the same name as that television person?"
"Err, yes, that's right," Brad answered slightly embarrassed.
"Well, all right. When did you want to come?"
"Well, actually I'm in the area right now. I could be there in about fifteen minutes if that's not too inconvenient," he answered.
Fifteen minutes later, Brad was knocking on the door of Elizabeth Ashford's house. It was an old cream coloured timber dwelling, high set with an iron roof, facing east to take advantage of the cool breeze that brought relief from the thick, stifling humidity. The character of the old dwelling was greatly enhanced by the lush, well cared for garden, thriving in the sub tropical climate.
When Elizabeth Ashford opened the door, she immediately recognized the face standing outside and was taken completely by surprise.
"Hello, I'm Brad Murphy," he said. "We spoke on the phone earlier?"
"Oh, my goodness, hello. You didn't say that you were the same person as the one on television. I watch your program all the time. Do come in," she said.
"Sorry," Brad answered, "I was a little embarrassed." It was wit
h hidden delight that Brad Murphy felt his high profile was about to pay dividends. All too often, celebrity status had its drawbacks. From being recognized almost everywhere he went, and sometimes suffering unsolicited, unflattering comments, to being constantly asked to attend this function or that function to lend weight to some charitable cause, all took their toll. Here though, he was being ushered in by a seemingly delighted senior citizen, whom he felt would probably go to extraordinary lengths to tell him everything he wanted to know. 'What a change of pace?' he thought.
"Can I get you anything," Elizabeth asked as she showed him into the lounge. "A cup of tea or something cool to drink perhaps?"
"Tea would be lovely." He answered.
"Would you like a biscuit or a piece of cake?"
"Either would be fine, thank you."
"Do sit down, I won't be a moment."
While Elizabeth was in the kitchen, Brad surveyed the lounge room. It was a large wallpapered room, with ageing furniture and fittings. A picture rail extended around all four walls and three walls contained sepia photos of what Brad presumed were deceased relatives.
"Won't you be late for your program?" she called out from the kitchen. "Your show starts in about an hour or so."
"No. It's pre-recorded. We taped today's show yesterday," he said as he continued to absorb the character of the room.
"Oh, I didn't realize that. I suppose that takes some of the panic out of it," she said from the kitchen.
"Panic?" Brad asked.
"Well, recording the day before, would enable you to edit out something you didn't like, wouldn't it?" she asked.
"Oh yes. It certainly does," he replied, still gazing around the room. On the wall above the old sideboard, Brad noticed an unusual number of photographs, all tastefully framed, mostly of young children, some photographed with adults. A small number were of babies, photographed in black and white. The photos looked quite old as if taken several years ago, and it was with a gasp that Brad guessed these were children placed for adoption while Elizabeth Ashford worked at the Western Family Agency. Immediately it sprang to his mind that one of these babies might well be Mary Therese.
"I see you have met my children," Elizabeth said as she returned to the lounge room with a tray containing a plate of biscuits and cakes.
"Your children?" he answered. "Not all of them surely?"
"No, goodness me, no. These are my children from the agency. These are some of the children I helped find parents for."
"Was this normal agency practice?" Brad asked.
"Oh yes, sometimes. But these are not agency photographs. These are mine. I always took two of them and kept one as a personal memento of a wonderful occasion; a new life, with a new family. It was so exciting." Elizabeth said excusing herself once again as the whistle of the kettle could be heard in the kitchen. Brad turned back to look at the photos, to see if any names were tagged along the bottom. No names.
As Elizabeth returned with two cups of tea on a tray, the two settled down in two roomy armchairs, and addressed themselves to the business of Brad's call.
"Elizabeth, as I said on the phone," he began, "I'm making enquiries on behalf of the executors of the estate of the late Andrea Steedman who passed away two weeks ago in Melbourne. Just before she died, Andrea told her brother Warwick, who is one of the executors, that she had a daughter twenty-two years ago, whom she subsequently put up for adoption through the Western Family Agency here in Brisbane. The baby was born here. Her name was Mary Therese. None of her family knew of the pregnancy, or at least that's what Warwick thinks is the case. Andrea apparently moved up here from Melbourne to hide the fact that she was pregnant. At the time, she told the family it was a company posting that prompted the move."
"I see," Elizabeth said thoughtfully.
"Andrea would have been twenty three at the time." Brad said as he handed over the photo of Andrea when she was nineteen. Elizabeth took the photo and studied it closely for some time. She cast her mind back to a time now long past, a time she enjoyed enormously and as she did a flood of memories returned.
"Hmm, yes this face is familiar," Elizabeth said as she perused the photo. "A young woman, about twenty one or thereabouts, no family."
"You recognize her do you?" Brad asked.
"Yes! Andrea! I remember her. I remember visiting her. She said she was unable to care for the baby. She was very frightened, as if she was doing something terribly wrong. She was suffering a lot of guilt. She wouldn't tell me very much about her family or the father. She said he was just a one night stand or something like that."
"You spoke with her then? You remember her?" Brad asked.
"I wasn't sure about her. I wondered if she was ready for something like this. It's a huge step to take you know. There was a couple from Townsville?or was it Cairns. Not sure now, but I'm sure I have some detail here. Just a minute!"
Elizabeth rose up and went to the sideboard. She opened up the left door to reveal a bunch of files in manila folders.
"I kept a lot of stuff at home in case I needed to do some work here. Somehow it all just accumulated and after I retired," she said as she waded through the folders, "I just filed it all away. I suppose that wasn't the right thing to do was it. The Department of Communities wouldn't be very happy about it, but it all just accumulated you see. I should have destroyed it all. You won't tell on me will you?" she said in a timid manner.
"What you have here is your business Elizabeth. It has nothing to do with me. But if there's any information you can give me that will help me find Mary Therese, I'm sure the executors would be very grateful."
"Well, let's see," she said as she ruffled through some files. "Yes, here it is," she said as she produced an envelope. "This was them."
Brad couldn't believe his luck. Elizabeth returned to the armchair and opened the envelope. She took out a completed application form.
"Yes, now I remember. This was a strange one. I was never very sure about this one."
"What do you mean?" Brad asked.
"Well," Elizabeth began. "There was always something strange about this one. I interviewed Andrea and I took a photo of the baby, Mary, but that was the last contact I had with them. These were the people though," she said, looking at a handwritten sheet of paper. "They came from Cairns. A young couple who couldn't have any children. James and Irene Campbell. There is an address here but that doesn't mean they are still there of course. But you can have it if you wish."
"Yes please," Brad replied as he reached for his pen and notebook. "What do you mean when you said you were never sure about this one?" he added.
"Well, as it turned out I wasn't supposed to go there. It was all a bit of a mistake. My supervisor asked me to take over a file and I contacted the wrong person. I met Andrea and completed an application form but when I went to discuss it later with Julie Macleod, she said I went to the wrong place and took the file off me. That was the last I heard of the matter until about five years later, when I typed a letter for the agency director."
"Who to?" Brad asked.
"This couple here, the Campbells. Apparently Andrea wanted to make contact with them and wrote to the agency asking for details. At the time Julie Macleod was on holidays overseas, so Ross Davidson looked into it. He couldn't find any record of Andrea having been a client of the agency. It was when he was dictating the letter to me, that I told him about my visit to see Andrea." Elizabeth said.
"What letter? To whom?" Brad asked
"Andrea mentioned the Campbells in her letter. We had an application from them on file from a year or so earlier, but nothing ever came of it. We then checked with the department, and they had no record of an adoption involving Andrea either. Ross Davidson wrote to the Campbells asking if they knew anything about it."
"Forgive me for saying so Elizabeth, but all this is starting to sound a bit bizarre," Brad suggested.
"It was! Well, until Julie came back from holidays, that is. She sorted it all out, but I still d
idn't learn the final outcome. Around the same time, Ross left the agency and Julie was appointed director. She's been there ever since," Elizabeth said. "So how do you know that the Campbells adopted Andrea's daughter?" Brad asked.
"I asked Julie about it one day after Ross had left. She said it was a simple filing error or something. The department had sorted it out and everything was now fine. That same afternoon, Julie was out and I took a call from Cairns. It was Irene Campbell wanting to talk with Julie. I said I'd get her to call back and took her number. Then just as an afterthought I asked her how Mary Therese was getting on and she said, 'fine,' and hung up. It sounded to me like it was a slip of the tongue. That's when I started to feel very uncomfortable about the whole business of Andrea and her baby."
20.