Not My Daughter

by Suzy K Quinn

  ‘She’s a long-lost relative,’ says Michael, beaming. ‘A niece.’ He puts an arm around my shoulder. ‘This is young Liberty. It was a surprise, her turning up out of the blue. But I’m glad she’s here today.’

  Cat’s big blue eyes widen even further. ‘A niece? I thought none of your brothers had kids.’

  ‘Like I say. Liberty here was a surprise.’

  Cat blinks. ‘Okay. I get it. None of my business. Right?’

  Michael claps her on the back. ‘Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.’

  Cat looks me over, her eyes loose and worried. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Sixteen.’

  ‘Come on, Cat Cannon,’ says Michael. ‘Let’s go mingle. The party’s about to get started.’

  ‘Of course the party’s starting, Michael,’ says Cat. ‘I just got here.’ She turns to look back at me. ‘Sixteen, huh? That’s a hell of an age.’

  Michael laughs. ‘It certainly is.’

  Lorna

  The international dialling tone rings like a distress signal.

  ‘Boooooop. Boooop. Heeeeelp. Heeeeeelp.’

  Come on Dee. Pick up. Pick up …

  I know she will. She always picks up for me.

  There’s a click as the line connects. ‘Lorna?’

  Hearing Dee’s voice floods me with relief. My warm, loving big sister. The only constant, my whole life. The one I can always rely on.

  ‘What’s up?’ Dee asks. ‘I’m on my way to work.’

  I start crying like an idiot. ‘Liberty,’ I jabber. ‘She’s found out who her father is. She’s gone, Dee.’

  A pause.

  ‘Okay. I’ll be on the next flight out.’

  Liberty

  I know this party isn’t a real music festival. But I’m pretending like it is.

  Out here in Michael’s woods, for the first time ever I feel like I’m living a real teenage life – dancing in bare feet and denim cut-offs, covered in mud and rainbow make-up, singing along, arms around a big bunch of strangers.

  I’ve taken my shoes off to feel the earth, as instructed by Michael during his first performance just after lunch. Other bands played during the afternoon, and now Michael is back on stage again.

  The party is in full swing and the woodland clearing is packed with people, dancing, swaying their arms. Almost everyone here has bare feet, and we stand on summer-warmed earth together, swigging from cider bottles and listening to the air crackle with live music. Well, okay – I’m swigging organic apple juice, but close enough.

  On stage, Michael’s croaky voice demands to know if we’re having a good time.

  ‘YES!’ everyone shouts back. And I hear myself shout too.

  ‘Everything is connected,’ says Michael. ‘Do you feel it? We’re connected by love and music and freedom. This is our own little world and we don’t need anyone else.’

  Everyone looks happy, except for Diane – who is walking through the crowd towards me, eyes concerned.

  ‘Have you had enough to eat, Liberty?’ she asks. ‘The chef just put out a load of veggie hot dogs. Are you helping yourself?’

  ‘I am. Thanks.’

  There are hundreds of people in Michael’s woods now, all talking and dancing and drinking. Guests have been arriving all afternoon and now this place is mobbed. I’m surrounded by more leather jackets than I’ve ever seen before. What’s the collective noun for a group of people in leather jackets? A throng? A black?

  ‘Look at my husband, up there on stage,’ says Diane, shaking her head. ‘Man of the moment. He always has to be in the limelight.’

  Cat Cannon weaves up onto the stage too and grabs a mic, throwing her arm around Michael’s shoulder. ‘This guy, is like the GREATEST guy in the world. The greatest front man EVER.’

  Diane frowns. ‘Jesus. No wonder that woman was a heroin addict. She needs calming down.’

  On stage, Michael laughs and takes the mic back. ‘We’re one big family today,’ he booms. ‘Love is all there is and love is who we are. Everyone here …’ he points to the crowd. ‘Do you feel it? Do you feel the love here?’

  A collective ‘Wooo!’ passes through the crowd. I feel my fist raise in the air.

  ‘Woo!’

  Cat stumbles down from the stage then and lights a cigarette. She notices me and stares for a moment, a frown creasing her pale skin. Then a man in a leather jacket leans to whisper something and she throws her head back and laughs, turning away.

  Diane shakes her head. ‘This isn’t my scene, you know? Hedonism. All the dirt and noise. I’ll be relieved when everyone goes home.’

  I notice Diane is one of the few people still wearing shoes – heels, actually, that spike little holes into the baked mud clearing. I guess she isn’t feeling love in the bare earth, like everyone else is.

  ‘Do you want me to go home?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, no, love.’ Diane’s eyes widen. ‘I just meant … you know, Michael and I have different tastes when it comes to celebrations. I’d rather just be at home, having a meal with a few friends. But that man of mine likes to make a big romantic public spectacle every year, so here we are. Love isn’t love unless he’s booming it through a microphone apparently. But listen to me, complaining like an old woman. Michael’s enjoying himself. And you are too, by the sounds of things.’

  ‘I’m loving it,’ I say. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to a music festival. This feels kind of like that.’ I raise my voice as the live music starts up again. ‘A big festival in the woods.’

  ‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything else to eat?’ Diane shouts back. ‘You’ve had some lunch, haven’t you?’

  The music dies down a little and I nod. ‘Three veggie burgers and a veggie hot dog.’

  ‘Well, now it’s supper time,’ says Diane. ‘How about some bread? I’ve just put some in the outdoor oven. The chefs are still working away. They’ve got three grills going over there now. Two of them veggie only, so you needn’t worry—’

  ‘I’m okay,’ I say. ‘All I want to do is talk to Michael.’

  ‘Oh, that’s almost impossible at one of these things,’ Diane laughs. ‘Look at him. Peacocking around on stage. He’s in his element here. But I promise you, love, he’ll find time at some point. Michael is a man of his word, whatever Lorna might have to say on the subject. He is a show-off. Don’t be under any illusions there. Show him a stage and he can’t stay away. But he’s a man of his word.’

  We watch as Michael sings a few notes into the mic, throwing his head back and spreading one hand wide. Cat is back on stage too now, strumming at a red electric guitar.

  ‘You’d never guess this was our anniversary, would you?’ says Diane mildly. ‘More like the Michael and Cat show.’

  ‘Do you mind?’ I ask.

  ‘Not often,’ says Diane with a wry smile. ‘Hardly ever, actually. It’s just how it is. True love is selfless.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I know that one. I have a little sister. Well, stepsister. Darcy. She has autism. So life sort of revolves around her. It has to. Darcy gets really upset if we don’t stick to a routine or do things a certain way. I can’t even wear hats because it freaks her out. But it’s fine. Because I love her and I know it’s what she needs. Love makes it okay. You know, putting up with the bad parts.’

  ‘What a beautiful thing to say.’ Diane smiles. ‘You’re a special girl, Liberty. Lorna did something right. Raising someone like you.’

  On stage, the music fizzles out and I see Michael slapping the backs of the musicians.

  ‘I’m not all that special,’ I say, watching as Michael hops down from the stage and weaves through the crowd, shaking hands and patting shoulders. ‘Plenty of people make themselves second best because they love someone.’

  Diane nods and nods. ‘Yes. Yes, they do. And it’s okay, isn’t it? Like you say, we accept it.’

  Michael comes bounding up to us. ‘Everything okay with my girls? I could see you from the stage, the pair of you look
ing ever so serious. What’s going on here then? Nothing bad, I hope?’

  ‘We were just having a nice girls’ chat,’ says Diane, squeezing my hand. ‘And this girl is getting desperate to talk to you, Michael Reyji Ray. So I’m going to leave the pair of you to it.’ She winks at me. ‘I’ll go mingle. Back in a sec.’

  ‘How are you liking the party so far?’ Michael asks.

  ‘I’m having a great time,’ I say. ‘It’s awesome. Like being inside the pages of NME.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve collected some good people around me over the years,’ says Michael. ‘And let me tell you something, young Liberty. You are nothing without other people. Absolutely nothing. You can have all the talent in the world, but if no one wants to help you or work with you, you’re finished.’

  ‘It’s an amazing party,’ I say, looking at the crowd. The air is buzzing, even without the music, and the collective feeling here is one big good mood. Rainbow flags fly from the branches, musicians arrange themselves on stage and food sizzles on grills at the edge of the clearing.

  All around us are eager faces, many clearly desperate to speak with the great man.

  ‘But you want to talk,’ says Michael. ‘Right? As in talk talk. I can see it in your face. Why don’t we find a little quiet spot, the two of us? Come on. We’ll get away from this noise.’ Michael points to three tree stumps arranged like a table and chairs in a small clearing. ‘Let’s have a father-daughter catch-up. Step into my office. Do you play chess at all?’

  He pats a shaded chess grid carved on the largest tree stump.

  ‘Is this a chessboard?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah. Not very rock and roll, I know, but I just love the game. I’ve carved all the pieces too. I’ll show you.’

  Michael reaches into a hollow part of the tree stump and pulls out a waterproof bag – the kind you put survival gear into. He opens it and shows me crudely carved wooden chess pieces.

  ‘My groundskeeper and I spent weeks whittling these,’ says Michael. ‘His wife died, so … you know. He likes to keep himself busy. I tell him to spend as much time here as he likes with us. He’s not keen on being at home.’

  Music boom, boom, booms from the woodland stage and I hear Cat’s croaky, cigarette-ravaged voice singing ‘My Way’.

  ‘I love chess,’ I say. ‘I was captain of the school chess team. But then I got into music.’

  ‘No kidding? Like father, like daughter. A logical mind under the chaos and creativity. Hey, you must be a bit good if you were captain of your team.’

  ‘Well … yeah.’ I manage a smile. ‘I mean, I never lost. Not to players my own age.’

  ‘I should have known a daughter of mine would be a chess champion,’ says Michael. ‘Well, that sounds like a challenge to me. Let’s set up the pieces.’

  I examine a roughly carved bishop. ‘If we’re playing, we won’t be talking about anything meaningful.’ I look up then, right into his dark eyes.

  ‘You’re giving me credit for more intelligence than I have,’ Michael laughs. ‘I’m not plotting some great distraction. I just wanted to play a chess game with my little girl.’

  ‘If I win, will you stop beating around the bush and tell me what you know?’

  Michael watches me for a moment. ‘Okay, deal,’ he agrees, shaking my hand. ‘But you won’t win.’ His palm feels rough but warm.

  I laugh. ‘I will win. I’ve never lost.’

  ‘Maybe you’ve never played with anyone decent before.’

  ‘Oh, he’s got you playing chess, has he?’ Diane comes strolling over, heels sinking into leaves and mud. ‘Don’t fall for it, Liberty. Never play games with Michael. He makes you think you’re going to win and then he takes you to the cleaners.’

  ‘I just told her she’s going to lose,’ says Michael. ‘That’s hardly misleading her, is it?’

  ‘You won’t win this game,’ I say, eyes moving over the chessboard.

  Diane pats my shoulder. ‘Well, at least you’re confident.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I blush. ‘I know that makes me sound like an idiot. But it’s true. And I have an especially good incentive to win.’

  ‘Let battle commence,’ says Michael.

  Diane sits on another tree stump and watches us play. She’s a good audience member, gasping at the appropriate moments.

  Eventually, Michael gets me in a position where I can’t win. I tip my king and grudgingly shake his hand.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ I say, searching the board. ‘I totally didn’t see that coming.’ I shake my head. ‘Wow. I really, really wanted to win that game.’

  Michael nods. ‘I know you did, Liberty. But it’s for the best you didn’t, if you get my meaning. Honest to God it is. Just … be patient, okay? Give us all a chance to get to know each other.’

  ‘You played a very good game, Liberty,’ says Diane.

  ‘A great game,’ Michael agrees. ‘Big well done. Bravo. Quite the head on your shoulders. A worthy opponent. But I’ve got forty-odd years on you, when all is said and done. I’ve learned all the tricks.’

  Diane claps her hands. ‘Don’t take it to heart, Liberty. I’ve never seen Michael lose at anything. He’s pig-headed when it comes to competition.’

  ‘But she was pretty brilliant, my daughter,’ says Michael, swiping at tears. ‘Oh goodness. Here come the waterworks again.’

  ‘Listen, it’s getting late,’ says Diane, looking up at the greying sky. ‘Michael, your audience are missing their front man. What are we going to do with you, Liberty? Have someone drive you home … or … what do you want to do? Have something more to eat? Does your doggy want something to eat? A bean burger or something?’

  ‘Oh, I can’t give Skywalker veggie burgers,’ I say. ‘They make him farty.’

  Diane laughs. ‘He’s like most men then.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’ve brought him dog biscuits.’

  ‘Listen, Liberty – you’re welcome to stay overnight if you want. Whatever’s happened in the past, you’re still Michael’s daughter. You’ll always have a place to stay here.’

  Michael nods, his face tired and craggy. ‘But the choice is yours. We’re not going to tell you when you can come and go. You’re sixteen. You can make up your own mind. Have you enjoyed yourself today, young Liberty? A lot of new faces. A few connections in your back pocket, right?’ He winks. ‘I’ve been selling your band to the heavens.’

  ‘You haven’t even heard us all play together. What if we suck?’

  ‘You’re my daughter,’ says Michael. ‘You have an energy about you. Doesn’t she, Diane? Too cool for school, the perfect rock and roll star.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ says Diane.

  ‘So what’s the plan, Liberty bell?’ Michael clears away chess pieces. ‘These party guests are going to start hunting me down soon. Shall I have Danny drive you back?’

  ‘I want to stay,’ I say. ‘I’m hoping to persuade you to tell me stuff.’

  ‘I’ll mingle with the guests for you,’ says Diane. ‘I sense you two need a little alone time.’

  Michael picks up a guitar that’s propped against a nearby tree, idly plucking a string and tuning it as Diane walks away. ‘A deal’s a deal, isn’t it? You lost the chess game. We’ll talk another time.’

  ‘Please, Michael.’

  Michael sighs. ‘Liberty, I never want to hide anything from you. And I know it’s driving you mad, me holding things back. But hurting you is the last thing I want to do today. And I just can’t bring myself to do it.’

  ‘I don’t care. I can deal with it. Whatever it is.’ I recross my legs, feeling rough bark on my bare knees and calves. ‘Whatever you have to say, I’m ready for it. I’ve spent a lifetime waiting.’

  Michael sighs. ‘You’re persistent. Like your old man. But I don’t know where I’d even begin, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘At the beginning.’

  ‘The beginning. Okay. Maybe I can tell you a little of it. The beginning would start with … Lorna having cancer wh
en she was your age. Did she tell you about that?’

  ‘Sort of. I mean, we don’t speak much about it. But she’s always telling me this causes cancer, that causes cancer.’

  ‘What kind of cancer did Lorna have, Liberty?’

  ‘Um … I don’t know. Terminal cancer? That’s what the hospital told her. But she pulled through. She got better.’

  ‘So Lorna didn’t tell you what kind of cancer she had?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A bit unusual, don’t you think?’

  ‘I just assumed … you know, that Mum doesn’t like talking about it. Bad energy, or something.’

  ‘Let me ask you another question,’ says Michael. ‘Your mother has a lockbox in the house. Right? A safe. Something like that.’

  I hesitate. ‘Yes. How did you know that?’

  ‘Call it a hunch. And here’s another hunch. Your mother doesn’t have precious jewellery. Nothing that would ordinarily be locked away?’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘She’s not that sort of person.’

  ‘So what do you think she’d need a safe for? Since she’s not into diamonds and rubies or anything like that. You know your mother. Come on now, you’re a smart girl.’

  ‘She keeps our documents in the safe. Like … passports and stuff. Her medical records, I think. She wants to keep our life locked up in her safe little bubble. It’s just her mentality. You know? Lock it all up safe and—’

  ‘HEY, what’s going on over here?’ Cat Cannon stumbles over rough ground in high heels, coughing into her elbow. ‘This is supposed to be a party. Where’s my stage buddy?’

  ‘Just taking a break, Cat,’ says Michael.

  ‘You’re sixteen, right? You know my daughter went missing when she was about your age.’ Cat watches me for a second, then her face breaks into a thousand heartbroken pieces.

  ‘Hey.’ Michael hops to his feet and pulls her into a hug. ‘It’s okay. I know. She’ll turn up one day. All right? One day. She will.’

  Cat starts to wail and cry. Then she abruptly snaps away from Michael, swiping at her eyes. ‘No. I won’t do this today. Not at your big party. No way. I gotta go, Micky. I gotta go home. If I don’t, I’m gonna drink and you know how that ends up.’