by Amos, Gina
It was just after Billy married Suellyn that he bought the house in Eden Street. I was surprised when he and Suellyn picked me up in his fancy car one morning and we drove out of the city, away from the boarding house to the leafy suburb. He pulled up outside the house and I sat there for some time looking at the house and the street wondering how I could live here, a place that seemed to me to be so far away from the life I led in the city.
The three of us, Suellyn, Billy and I, stepped out of the car, closed the doors behind us and walked across the grass nature strip, through the timber gate and up to the front door. Whenever I looked at the front door from that day on, I always thought of the day I moved to Eden Street. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so kind, not even my own son. A wonderful gift to someone who never really expected anything from anybody. Tears welled in my eyes and I remember that I had to wipe them away so I wouldn’t look like the silly woman that I was.
I stood in the doorway and hugged Billy for a long time, so long that I know he was embarrassed. He cleared his throat, moved my arms away gently and led me through the house to the kitchen. He apologised to me that the house was run-down and needed work done to it. Suellyn said she would see to all of that, but she never did. I suppose she never found the time.
People didn’t want to live in the city anymore. There was a real push, especially in the fifties, for families to find a block of land and build a house somewhere away from the dirt and the noise, out in the suburbs somewhere. Living in the inner city was not regarded as a respectable place to live. It had the reputation of being a slum. Most of my friends had already moved of course, there was more money about but I never did understand why people wanted to leave. The city was alive with interesting smells, it was vibrant, full of noise from the traffic and people going about their daily lives.
I was sad to leave the boarding house at first, but Billy insisted, especially as Dora had recently died and the boarding house was on the market, but I soon settled into my new life. I was lucky with my neighbours, especially, Kevin Taggart and Edi and Rhoda Blake.
Kevin Taggert was always a good neighbour to me and I never did say a proper thank you to him. I was embarrassed by his kindness and embarrassed by the circumstances in which I had found myself. He kept much to himself and I kept to myself. A couple of hermits the both of us. Kevin had his painting and I had my crosswords and, of course, I had Astrid.
Astrid was an extremely intelligent cat with a rather unique voice. She was my only true friend, apart from Max Gray. She kept me warm at nights, especially after it turned cold and the electricity had been disconnected. I liked her chatting away to me in her deep, loud voice, more like a dog than a cat. I loved her playfulness and affectionate nature and she was always climbing onto my kitchen table, showing off her long slender legs. Often when she was looking for attention from me she would climb onto my bony shoulders and look into my wrinkly old face with her blue, almond shaped eyes. Suellyn will have her put to sleep after I’m gone. She didn’t care much for cats.
A new neighbour moved in, next to Kevin. She looked friendly with her neat haircut, and designer clothing and I thought she was going to speak to me on the day I died, when I was on my way to the shops and she was returning home. It was a shame that she didn’t have the time to stop and say, ‘Hello.’
Chapter Sixteen
Tommy looked down the row of backlit buzzers affixed to the facade of the Panorama Apartments and pressed the intercom button marked 16. He checked his watch; he didn’t realise it was so late. While he waited for an answer, he wiped away a wet drip from his nose with the back of his hand. Waves crashed onto the beach and filled the night air with a fine mist. He ran his tongue over his lips and tasted the salt.
‘Hello?’ Suellyn wasn’t expecting anyone, especially at this time of night.
‘Sues, it’s me, Tommy.’ He spoke into the intercom slowly and clearly, not knowing whether he could be heard. He ran his hand over his chin, it felt like sandpaper and he realised that he’d forgotten to shave.
‘Tommy, what are you doing here?’ she whispered. ‘William’s home, you should have phoned first.’
‘I don’t care. We need to talk. I need to talk to both of you. William needs to know the truth.’
‘Okay then, come on up.’ Suellyn pressed the security door release button and waited for a moment before she asked, ‘Are you in?’
Tommy didn’t answer, but Suellyn heard the distinctive click of the door as the lock released and the entrance door shut. She opened the door to the apartment before Tommy had a chance to knock. She flinched at the sight of him as his body framed the doorway. His hands were in the pockets of a pair of black jeans and the bomber jacket he was wearing gave him a youthful appearance. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, his hair unruly, ruffled by the wind. As he gazed into Suellyn’s eyes, he tilted his head to one side, sheepishly, as if he expected her to suddenly take him in her arms and kiss him. When he realised that this wasn’t going to happen he didn’t wait for her to invite him in. He shot her a smile, kissed her hard on the lips anyway, nudged past her and walked down the hallway and into the lounge-room. Tommy knew the apartment like the back of his hand and looked about for William.
‘Hello,’ William said. He was holding an opened bottle of red wine in one hand and two wine glasses in the other. William was annoyed, but not surprised by the sight of him. He was hoping to spend a quiet evening alone with Suellyn to find out if there was anything left in their marriage worth saving and to find out more about Tommy Dwyer. Now he would have a chance to find out about Tommy without having to ask his wife. ‘We met at the funeral,’ William said, as a statement of fact. He put down the wine glasses and of‘Have a seat. Would you like a glass?’ He raised the bottle. ‘Suellyn and I were just about to have one.’ William looked at Suellyn. She was standing in the middle of the lounge room, looking awkward, guilt written on her face like tarnished silver waiting to be polished. They had both calmed down after the outburst earlier in the day but William knew Suellyn well enough to know that he had to keep her calm if he wanted to get some answers from her.
‘Thanks, I could do with a glass of vino,’ Tommy said. ‘It’s blowing a gale outside.’
Suellyn looked at Tommy and noticed the smug look on his face and the cockiness in his manner. William knew from years of legal negotiations that Tommy Dwyer looked as if he knew he was holding all the aces. His eyes were bright, his lips moist. The expression splashed across Tommy’s face was one that Suellyn had never seen before. He turned away from her, accepted a glass of wine from William and made himself comfortable on the leather lounge. Suellyn draped a pale blue pashmina around her shoulders and sat opposite him on the ottoman and looked at the two men, wondering who would speak first.
It was William who broke the awkward silence. ‘Suellyn tells me you live up the coast and that you are a friend of Kerry Dawson.’
Tommy nodded and took a large mouthful of wine. Tommy wasn't here for small talk and he had never heard of a Kerry Dawson. A fabrication no doubt thought up by Suellyn to explain how she knew him. ‘William,’ he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, ‘at the funeral, I said that your mother and I went way back.’
‘Yes, I remember you saying something like that.’ William leant over and topped up Tommy’s glass trying to make light of the situation they had all found themselves in. William had a gut feeling after their meeting at Rose’s funeral that Tommy Dwyer was going to turn up again one day and here he was. He didn’t like this cocky fellow sitting across from him in his apartment, drinking his expensive wine and looking at his wife in a way which suggested that they were more than just friends. William decided to get in first before Tommy had a chance to take control of the conversation. ‘Before you say anything Tommy, I know from Rose’s will that you’re probably my half-brother. Some sordid story no doubt. So, let’s cut to the chase, which half are you?’
‘William,’ Tommy hesitated for a moment, then
looked him square in the eye.
‘Rose is... well, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but Rose wasn’t your birth mother. We’re half brothers, same mother but different fathers.’
William’s body straightened as if it had just turned to stone. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know how to respond. The answer wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. William knew he had just broken the first rule of cross examination, never ask a question to which you don’t already know the answer. He placed his glass of wine down carefully on the coffee table, not trusting himself not to spill it, and sat down on the lounge chair opposite Tommy. He gave him a puzzled look, a please explain kind of look.
‘What do you mean Rose wasn’t my mother? Of course she was.’ William’s dark eyes narrowed and darted towards Suellyn. ‘Tell me you don’t know anything about this.’
Suellyn looked down at her hands and fiddled with her wedding band. By not answering he knew she knew.
William’s heart pounded painfully through his chest as if Suellyn held it in her hands and was squeezing it, squeezing it hard, hard enough that it felt as if it was about to explode and break through his chest.
Suellyn pouted her lips as a small child does who was not used to not getting her own way. She put her head in her hands and began to sob. Tommy drained the remaining drops of his wine and placed his glass on the coffee table next to William’s.
‘Somebody, tell me what’s going on,’ William demanded.
‘As I said, you’re my half-brother and Rose wasn’t your birth mother. I don’t really know what else to tell you or what it is you want to know,’ Tommy said goading William in a toneless, flat voice.
William walked out onto the terrace and gulped the fresh air greedily, as if it were a glass of iced water. He moved to the edge of the balcony and grabbed the top of the railing. With his feet spread wide to balance himself, his eyes blinked and watered with the force of the wind. It was gusting at least thirty knots and William stood looking out to sea like a ship’s captain standing at the prow of his doomed ship, knowing what was to come, waiting for the next giant wave to strike and engulf him. His self-confidence had been stripped away, he felt raw and naked, it was as if the person he thought he was, no longer existed. The ocean was wild tonight. The coal black waves tumbled over each other in the shallows with a roar; piggy backing each other like survivors of a ship wreck in a scramble to make it to shore. He took another deep breath, this time filling every inch of his lungs with the smell and power of the ocean, trying to take in the information, absorbing it, casting it about in his mind, and wondering what he would do with it. The sky was full with growling dark clouds, thunder was stalking in the distance, the ocean was ripping itself apart. William wiped his eyes and tugged at his hair. He turned around slowly and walked back inside to face the truth and to face Tommy Dwyer.
He stood looking at his half-brother for a moment before he spoke. ‘There’s more to all of this. You aren’t telling me everything, so let’s start with where have you been all my life? It was bad enough being lied to by my mother about the identity of my father. And by the way, I still don’t know the answer to that question. I wanted nothing more to do with her and never forgave her for leading me on like that, encouraging me to believe that a photo of some soldier she found in a dusty second hand bookshop could be a substitute for a father. Making me think for all those years that he was some great war hero and that he died before I was born. What a joke.’ William paced around the room. ‘If only she’d been honest with me and for that matter, honest with herself right from the beginning. She was such a stupid woman.’
Tommy looked down at his feet attempting to suppress the pleasure he was experiencing from William’s outburst.
‘Enough of talking about Rose, I’m on a roll here. Have I got this right? My mother was not my mother, my father was not my father, but you are my half-brother and can I also assume that you are having an affair with my wife?’ William was pacing backwards and forwards now, like some caged, wild animal, rubbing the back of his neck with his head bowed, his fists clenched. ‘Suellyn, did you know that lover boy here was my brother when you started cheating on me?’
‘Of course I didn’t. Tommy and I met at a bar in town and we just sort of clicked. It was as simple as that, a chance meeting. Besides, our marriage was already over in my mind.’
Suellyn reminded William of a pathetic clown, her tears had caused her mascara to bleed, thick, black tracks ran down her cheeks, her lipstick was half eaten away and her hair was disheveled. She blew her nose loudly into a tissue and when she had finished, she stuffed the crumpled square into the pocket of her jeans.
Suellyn crossed her arms firmly against her chest. She had finished with the hysterics, now she was just mad. ‘I’m sick to death of all the lies and secrets! I don’t need any of this.’
William drank from his glass and was about to take another mouthful, but decided against it. He knew he had to remain sober. He was already too upset and perhaps already a little too drunk. He knew he needed a clear head so he could deal with this. He slammed the glass down on the coffee table for effect as much as anything else and was not upset that the contents spilled over the pile of Vogue magazines he knew that Suellyn had not yet read. ‘You’re sick of the secrets! Christ, Suellyn, after everything that’s been dumped on me tonight, you’re going on about secrets?’ William’s mind was racing but his legal instinct was starting to kick in. He turned from Suellyn to Tommy. He was trying to control his desire to grab him by the throat, drag him out onto the terrace and throw him over the railing onto the street below. ‘Okay, one thing at a time,’ William said coolly. ‘Would you mind telling me who my mother and father are, Tommy, or at least who they were?’
There was a pause. Tommy looked around the room before he began. ‘My mother, Isabelle Dwyer,’ Tommy shifted in his seat. ‘I mean our mother, died about six months ago. When I was going through her garage to clean out the rubbish she had accumulated over the years, I found a couple of cardboard boxes hidden behind a row of shelves. She’d probably forgotten that they were even there. I didn’t bother to look through them at the time. I was a bit emotional, understandably so. I just packed them up and took them back to my house along with a few other things that had sentimental value. I’d forgotten all about the boxes until recently when I was going through my wardrobe sorting out all my junk for a garage sale I was planning to have. When I found the boxes next to my golf clubs, I went through them more for curiosity sake than anything else and discovered a letter from my mother to Rose Phillips. It confirmed what I already knew about the circumstances surrounding your birth. I also found other letters to Rose and I must tell you, at the time, I found the whole thing quite shocking. My pious mother. Anyway, I digress. To cover up the mess she'd found herself in, she told my father she wanted to travel abroad for six months to visit her parents in England. My father indulged her, as he so often did. I don’t know whether he ever expected anything at the time but he let her go anyway. I know he found out some years later because before he died he told me the whole story.’
William was not aware that his mouth was open. He stared at Tommy. ‘But what’s all this got to do with Rose? Where does she fit into all of this?’ William asked incredulously.
‘That’s the next part of the story. It gets worse I’m afraid,’ Tommy said as he scratched the side of his forehead. ‘But before I tell you, can I have another drink, something a little stronger this time?’
William grabbed the whisky bottle and a clean glass from the sideboard. ‘Well?’ he said as he handed Tommy the glass. ’Get on with it, we haven’t got all night.’
Tommy took a swig and looked into the glass, then his eyes lifted and he looked back at William. He was enjoying watching William squirm. ‘Before Isabelle left for England, she went to the Northside Hospital for a check up. I suppose she wanted to make sure that the pregnancy was still viable. You know, to make sure that she was still pregnant. Imagine
if she had gone to all the trouble of travelling to England for nothing. Her plan was to have the baby in London, adopt it out and return home as if nothing had happened. Very calculating our mother, don’t you think William?’
William didn’t say a word.
When Tommy realised William wasn’t going to say anything, he continued. ‘Well this is where Rose comes into the picture. Rose Evans just happened to be sitting next to mother in the waiting room. Rose had lost her baby, an early term miscarriage apparently. Her parents had already kicked her out of home and the father had done a runner. Isabelle being the sort of person who could see an opportunity when there was one, took advantage of the situation and came up with a plan which would benefit them both.
Isabelle and Rose travelled to London on the SS Arcadia. She had it planned well. She paid for Rose’s passage on what you call a slow boat to London and arrived at Tilbury Dock where she was met by her cousin, Hetti Blakehurst. She didn’t tell her parents she was in the country, all very hush, hush.’ Tommy took another mouthful of whisky and continued. ‘It was all organised, Rose would be recorded on the birth certificate as the birth mother and Douglas Phillips as the father, a fictitious name Rose had thought up. Isabelle had already organized a midwife who was open to a bribe or baby bonus as Isabelle called it and her cousin Hetti worked at the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages so falsifying the records was straightforward. Isabelle gave birth to you three months after arriving on English soil and then just handed you over to Rose. With no family to speak of, Rose was more than happy to go ahead with the arrangement if it meant that she would have the baby she longed for. Simple, really. Apparently, nobody asked any questions, either here, or in England. Rose was your mother, a mysterious man called Douglas Phillips was your father and you were their son. Isabelle stuck to her side of the bargain and supported you and Rose financially until you left school. After going through her bank accounts it looks like she paid for some of your university fees as well.’