Andrea's Secret

by John Kelly

The following morning in the upstairs room at the Four Clovers hotel in Coventry Street, Gerard Martin waited nervously for the phone to ring. He looked out the window and shuddered at the sheer volume of traffic clawing its way into the city. He looked at the huge skyscrapers across the river and wondered how people could bear working all day inside them. He wondered how people could live in cities, sit in traffic, suck in foul air everyday, put up with the noise, pass by thousands of people everyday, and not know, or greet any of them. Not for him. He was a man of the land. He had spent his whole life on the land, where the air was clean, where the noise was no more than a tractor, or the sound of a breeze, and almost every person he saw each day, he knew. And now, even in his sixties, he was still a man of the land, working the soil, producing, and providing in much the same way that farmers had done for hundreds of years.

  Meeting Julian Knowles the day before, outside the commission flats where he believed Elsie Steedman lived, was for him a boon, an answer to a prayer. He had no idea how he was going to contact Elsie, and, but for the timely arrival of Julian, he might still be wondering. But Julian said he would ring him around midday, and that promise he took on faith. He had woken early, a legacy of working the land all his life, showered in the communal showers down the end of the hall way, and then enjoyed a full breakfast in the hotel dining room. He took an early morning walk, to get the blood flowing and taste the aroma of the city. He didn't like it and cut short the walk, preferring to stay in his room and watch television. He felt a feeling of relief when the clock showed five minutes after twelve. It was time. Julian would ring any minute now.

  As he waited, he reflected on his good fortune over the past fifteen years. Following the removal of the boundary fence separating his property from what was once George Kenny's 'western paddock', he immediately began ploughing the field on the blind side of the crest, approximately fifteen acres in all. It was a good season. Two years later, he was brimming with confidence. Convinced that the owner did not care what was going on, he expanded over the crest, and ploughed a further ten acres. Spuds galore! Three years later, he had expanded all the way to the bottom of the hill. The entire 'western paddock' was under plough. It was spud heaven, and still no sign of interest from the owner. The subsequent years saw the bank balance grow to a point where it was healthier than it had ever been. In this same period, to his great delight, his son Frank, had graduated from Law school, and had been admitted to the bar. Gerard lent considerable financial assistance towards Frank's future, and Frank was able to open his own practice in Baldargo. Good times indeed. But then it got even better. Gerard intended no disrespect with his visit to Elsie. He meant no harm. But the opportunity had come, courtesy of young Frank's legal training. A law on the statute books, few people would even be aware of, but it was there, and Frank knew about it. He discussed the matter with his father, and Gerard had grabbed it by the throat. Gerard had come to Melbourne to break the news to the owner of the 'western paddock', that she was the owner no longer. If only Julian would ring him with the details, he could speak to Elsie Steedman, and have the matter done with quickly, and then he could return to Baldargo. Julian would call any minute now, and Gerard's heart was pumping with anticipation.

  Fifteen kilometres to the east, at Box Hill Hospital, Maria Stewart was ready to be discharged. She had packed her bags, and received some pain killing medication in case of headaches. She had said her goodbyes and thanked the nursing staff, and now she sat by her bed, excited and relieved that she was finally leaving the hospital and going home. Any minute now, Michelle would arrive, and this unfortunate chapter in her life would be no more than a vivid memory. She would rest a week or two at home, and then return to Elm Tree Cottages and get back to doing what she loved. It was time. Michelle would be here any minute now. As she sat there, reflecting on the events of the past weeks, she realised that it was time to speak to Warwick Steedman. It was time to tell him about Michelle. Andrea had passed away and the truth must now be revealed. She had kept faith with Andrea and said nothing. She had taken Michelle in to live with her, as she promised. Michelle's subsequent decision to move into a place of her own was to be expected. But even then Michelle stayed true to Andrea's wishes. As Maria considered the words she would use to tell Warwick the truth of it all, she reflected on the way things turned out. Andrea's search for Michelle had been successful, even if the circumstances were somewhat bizarre. Why did Andrea not want her mother Elsie to know until now? Surely having a baby out of wedlock was not so terrible. For some maybe, for others maybe not. But Andrea was different in so many ways. The psychological reaction of each individual is unique, and it is impossible to predict how any individual will react to a given set of circumstances. So many aspects of one's life, one's fears, real or imagined, one's perceptions, all will play a part. Within the depth of Andrea's mind she had convinced herself that Elsie would think less of her, were she to learn about Mary Therese, and what she did with her. As wrong as that belief was, Andrea could not convince herself otherwise. Maria would have to explain all this, both to Warwick and to Elsie. It would not be easy, but she would do it the best way she could.

  Eight kilometres further to the east, a taxi pulled up outside Michelle's house at Gracedale Street and the driver, Alberto Antonini, knocked on the front door. Inside, Michelle was folding a letter she had written, placing it inside an envelope. On the front of the envelope she wrote, "Maria", and placed it on the hall table adjacent to the front door. Moments later she opened the front door and smiled at the driver. She was dressed in a track suit and joggers, hair tied back with a blue ribbon, and suitcase in hand. "I'm ready," she said to Alberto, who took the suitcase from her, and placed it in the boot of the car. When both driver and passenger were settled inside the car Alberto asked, "Where to ma'am?" Michelle took one last look at her little house and sighed, "The city please. Spencer Street Station! Could you go via the freeway. I'd like to get there as soon as possible." Alberto took off and headed for the freeway. As they motored along, Alberto took a customary glance at Michelle through the rear vision mirror. He thought he recognised her. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" he asked. Michelle looked into the rear vision mirror and saw only his eyes. "No, I don't think so," she answered.

  The traffic was light, and the car moved smoothly. As they motored along, Alberto played some gentle, romantic, Italian opera music, on a tape and Michelle began to reflect on the events that had brought her to this point. So much had happened so quickly. Her life had been turned upside-down because she had allowed external influences to guide and direct her. It had been a roller-coaster ride, too fast for her as it turned out. Why had she agreed to do this? It wasn't right. How could she have allowed herself to be drawn into such a deception? Alberto interrupted her thoughts. "Travelling off somewhere?" he asked. "Yes," Michelle answered, "I'm catching the train to Baldargo," she said.

  Warwick Steedman did not go to the office that Friday. At eight thirty, he telephoned Jill Toogoods and gave her the news of the events of the previous night. He did not tell her about his brother Robert's extortion attempt. Prior to calling Jill, he agonised over whether to tell his wife Susan, that he had been unfaithful. Over and above the drama of Pastor Doug's death, Warwick was haunted by Robert's threat. For Warwick, his dalliance with Jill Toogoods had been a gradual thing. He never in his wildest dreams considered the possibility that one day it might lead to this. But one thing led to another. It wasn't intentional, it just happened. It wasn't as if he went out of his way to pursue her. She was there in the office, every day, looking lovely, being his right-hand woman. She saw to it that things worked as they should. She was protecting him from the monotonous, banal, petty squabbles that make up office life. She kept him focussed on the main game, getting the job done. He was spending such long hours in the office, working hard to provide for his family's needs and the future. She often stayed back to help him. It was inevitable that sooner or later the two minds would connect to something beyond the da
y to day routine. Even if they had resisted that first 'moment' one night when they were alone in the office, and he helped her with her coat, most likely it would have happened some other way. When he allowed his hands to rest on her shoulders, and she touched him gently, the intensity stunned them both. Even then, as she turned around to look at him, with a deep, longing gaze, and two sets of eyes were momentarily captured by an unknown force. Even then, there was still time to withdraw, to retreat. But they didn't. He touched her cheek, and ran the back of his hand down her face. She drew herself closer to him, and he felt her soft breasts press against him. They kissed, a soft, tender kiss, both longing for the moment to be suspended in time. Perhaps, had they submitted there and then, to the passionate extreme, ripped each other's clothes off, dropped to the floor, or onto the desk or the armchair, anywhere, and made frantic, erotic love, they might have nipped the whole attraction thing in the bud. They might have realised that the moment was little more than a release of all the tension, and the energy that had been building in the sub-conscious mind, the product of work overload. But they didn't.

  They did 'the right thing', and apologised to each other. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he said. "Not your fault," she said. He then walked her to her car, and saw her off, and, realizing that he would see her again the next morning as usual, the moment became something else. It was the beginning of the affair. How could something so tender, poignant, touching, be ignored? How could they pretend it didn't happen? The following morning they tried not to look at each other. It was so awkward. They stumbled with words, with meaning, with intention. Other than for Warwick's appointment schedule, that saw him leave the office for most of the day, it would have been unbearable. Now, with his brother's threatening intrusion, the affair had escalated to a point far beyond anything he had bargained for. The affair was now a major disturbance.

  Maria Stewart looked at her watch again. 'Where is Michelle?' she thought. 'This is not like her.' The duty nurse came into her room. "Is there anyone coming to pick you up?" she asked. Maria looked at her watch again. "I was expecting my niece. I don't know what's keeping her. I'll give her a call," Maria answered impatiently. Maria telephoned. There was no answer. She held the phone to her ear, listening to the ring tone, over and over. Then it stopped. 'She's not there. Is she on her way? Surely she would have rung by now to tell me she would be late,' she thought. Embarrassed that some of the nursing staff were watching her, and possibly thinking that she had been forgotten, Maria phoned Julian on his mobile phone for help.

  "Julian, it's Maria. Can you help me? Michelle hasn't arrived to pick me up. I don't know what's happened, but do you think you could come to the hospital and get me. I don't want to go home alone," she said. Julian was at home. He had begun the day in a daze. The events of the previous night were still piercing his mind relentlessly. "Arhh, yep, er sure, What's happened with Michelle?" he said without thinking." Maria sounded lost. "She hasn't turned up to get me, and there's no answer on her phone," she said.

  "Okay, I'll be there in half an hour. Is that okay?" he said, and then collecting his thoughts, he added, "have you not spoken to Michelle this morning at all?" Maria sounded annoyed. "No, she was supposed to pick me up. I was relying on her. Now I've tried to call her and there's no answer. I don't know what to think," she said. Julian tried to turn things over in his mind. "Well, er, okay. I'll be there as quickly as I can," he said, and then decided to forewarn Maria. "Er, something happened last night at the prayer meeting which might explain that, but I won't go into it over the phone. I'll come and get you now." Maria wanted to know more. "What on earth happened last night?" she asked. But it was too late. Julian had hung up.

  Knowing she still had at least thirty minutes to wait, Maria's thoughts turned to Elsie and her family. She wanted to tell them that Michelle was Andrea's daughter and everything else that Andrea had confided in her. But Andrea wanted Warwick to find her. How long was she to wait? What if Warwick didn't find her? How much time was she supposed to give him? Andrea was relying on her if Warwick failed. Enough time had passed, she thought, and it seemed as good a time as any to arrange to see Warwick. She telephoned Warwick's office only to learn that he was at home. She knew that the office would not give out Warwick's private number so she didn't bother to ask. She decided to ring Elsie.

  While Julian walked out to his car, he checked in his pockets for his car keys, and discovered the note with Gerard Martin's details, and he remembered that he was supposed to ring him at the hotel by midday. "Oh shit," he said out loud, disturbing a passer-by. He jumped into the car and dialled the hotel on his mobile phone.

  At the Four Clovers hotel, Gerard Martin had waited long enough. Disappointed that his best intentions were coming unstuck, he decided to leave the hotel and return to the station to catch the train back to Baldargo. He made his way down to the reception desk and paid his bill.

  "Hope you enjoyed your stay Mr. Martin," the clerk said as she handed him his receipt.

  "Yes, it was fine thank you. I just wish I had achieved what I set out to do." Then as an after thought, he said to the clerk, "I wonder if you could help me. I was expecting a call at midday. It hasn't come. If anyone calls for me, could you give them my telephone number in Baldargo, and ask them to call me there tonight?" The clerk took up a pen and paper. "Certainly, we can do that for you. What's the number? Opps, wait a minute, we already have that don't we?" she said. Gerard checked with her that the number she had, on his original booking was correct, thanked her for her help, picked up his bags and left.

  Moments later as he walked down Coventry Street heading towards Spencer Street station, the phone rang at the reception desk. Seconds later, the clerk came running out of the hotel, looking down Coventry Street, to where Gerard Martin was walking, and called out to him. "Mr Martin, Mr. Martin." Gerard turned around and looked back at the clerk. "Telephone call for you," she said smiling.

  Maria waited as the phone rang. She knew that Elsie wasn't quick on her feet and patiently held on. When Elsie answered, she sounded tired. "Are you all right?" Maria asked. "Yes, I'm fine Maria. I've just had Robert on the phone rambling on about someone getting shot last night while he was driving his taxi. He was quite incoherent and I really didn't understand too much of it. Anyway, how are you? Are you out of hospital yet? The supervisor at Elm Tree cottages told me yesterday that she thought you were coming home soon. Is that true?"

  It was several minutes later, when Maria finished explaining her improved condition. "So now I'm waiting for Julian to pick me up," she said. "In fact Julian told me yesterday that he picked you up at Elm Tree and took you home," she added.

  "Yes, I did catch a taxi home yesterday. The driver was very nice. He told me he was a friend of Richard's, and he gave me his number too, in case I wanted a taxi in the future," Elsie replied.

  "That was Julian," she said. "Has he called you this morning?"

  "No," Elsie replied. "Why would he call me?" she added. "Yesterday, Julian came to see me after he took you home, and said that he spoke to an elderly man outside your flat. The man wanted to know where you lived. He said he wanted to speak to you."

  "Who was this man?" Elsie asked.

  "Well, that's the problem. We don't know. I gave Julian your flat number to pass on to him, but told Julian to call you first, to check that it was okay. Julian had his name. I just can't recall it now. He said he would call you this morning." A short silence ensued, before Elsie spoke. "Well, I don't know who would want to see me, but I don't mind if Julian passes my flat number on to him. I presume he's not an axe murderer or anything like that," she joked. Then Maria addressed herself to the real reason for her call.

  "Elsie, I need to speak with you and Warwick. It's about Andrea. I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you lately. There's something you need to know," she said. There was a long pause as both women absorbed the sober nature of Maria's words. It was Elsie who spoke first. "Is it about Andrea's daughter?" she a
sked in a low sad voice. Maria was taken back. "You knew?" she asked.

  "Warwick broke the news to all of us a few days ago when we had a meeting here about Andrea's will. I wondered if you knew anything. How did you know about her?" she asked Maria.

  "Andrea asked me to help her some time ago," she answered. "She meant you no disrespect. She just couldn't bring herself to tell you. It was when she went to Brisbane back in 1974. She adopted the baby out and tried to forget her, and get on with her life. Anyway, after a while she couldn't stand the thought of not knowing what had happened to Mary Therese, and she started looking for her. She got a friend of hers, a lawyer she knew from her university days to help her. Apparently the lawyer friend found her in Adelaide. Her adoptive mother died a couple of years ago, and Andrea's lawyer friend convinced her to come to Melbourne so the two of them could get to know each other. Andrea asked me if Mary Therese could stay with me. I wanted to help them. I knew how much this meant to Andrea." The silence at the other end of the line told Maria that Elsie was in shock.

  "Elsie, she's here," Maria said. "She's here in Melbourne. Mary Therese is here. She was staying with me for a while, and then decided to find a place of her own. It sounds a bit bizarre I know, but the lawyer friend thought for the time being, that Mary should use another name, so they decided to call her Michelle." As Maria paused for a moment, there was only silence on the other end of the line. Elsie could not grasp the news. It directly contradicted what she already knew. "That can't be," she said. "Andrea asked Warwick to find her. Warwick said she asked him the day she died. Why would she do that, if she already knew where Mary Therese was?"

  "It was what Andrea wanted," Maria replied.

  "Surely there must be more to it than that?" Elsie asked.

  Maria could hold back no longer. She took a deep breath, and began to tell Elsie the whole story.

  Meanwhile, back at Coventry Street, Gerard Martin returned to the hotel to answer the phone.

  "I'm sorry I'm late with the call, but I have those details for you," Julian said, completely forgetting that he was supposed to check with Elsie first, and find out if it was all right to pass the details on. Gerard took down the details, and thanked Julian.

  "If you have any problems, I'll give you my mobile number," Julian said.

  "Thank you for your help," Gerard said. "I have to say I didn't expect city people would be so friendly. It's been an eye-opener." Gerard hung up and asked the hotel clerk if she could make one call. "Certainly," the clerk said, and Gerard dialled Elsie's number. It was engaged. Deciding, that an engaged telephone meant that Elsie was at home, he decided to repeat yesterday's actions and walk the short distance to Elsie's flat.

  "Elsie, are you still there?" Maria asked after a lengthy silence.

  "Yes," Elsie replied. "I'm still here. I'm just wondering what it was that I did, that prevented Andrea from telling me. We could have been another family all this time. All this time has been lost. Now Andrea is gone, and it will never be the same. We could have been a family," she said. Maria chose her words carefully. "I think it was because you were so good to her that she found it hard to tell you. She had it in her head that somehow she had failed you. I tried to tell her that wasn't true, that you would not think that way, but every time I suggested we tell you, she stiffened up and shook her head. I often wonder if it was the stress she felt over the issue that contributed to her cancer." Elsie was silent. Maria continued talking Elsie through her pain and disappointment, until she noticed Julian limping down the corridor toward her.

  "Elsie, I have to go. I'm leaving the hospital now. The thing is that Warwick needs to be told that Mary Therese has been found."

  "I'll tell him," Elsie said. "I'll call him now. Will you be staying home for a while, to rest up before going back to work?" Maria nodded as she waved to Julian. "Yes I'll take another week before I go back. Will you call me after you speak to Warwick?"

  Elsie said yes, and Maria hung up.

  Julian walked into the room, favouring one leg, and greeted Maria. "Hello, what happened to you? Why are you limping?' she asked. "It's a long story. Let's get you out of here first," he said and helped gather her belongings. "Sorry about this," Maria said. "I don't know what's happened to Michelle." As the two of them began to make their way out of the hospital, Julian said, "Something happened at the prayer meeting last night. Wait until we get into the car, but you'd better prepare your self for a bit of a shock."

  30.