Forgotten

by Neven Carr

  I couldn’t even imagine what my Papa had done, the man who glowed with a natural, spirited warmth and kind-heartedness, to warrant my mother leaving. Still, I wasn’t about to question it, not after his earlier rebuke.

  “A small time passed and she became pregnant with you, Nathaniel.” Papa said it with much love, but it did little to dispel the visible discomfit on Nate’s face. “That’s when I returned to retrieve you, Carino. What I was not prepared for was Alice’s reluctance to let you go. She saw you as her own child. But, you were not… you were ours.”

  Papa took a long, steady breath before carrying on. “I reminded Alice of our initial deal. It was not as if I had led her to believe anything different. She knew I would be back. Under the circumstances, your mother and I concluded that a clean break was best, not just for Alice’s sake, but for yours as well. We advised her not to come and see you again.”

  My father wiped his beading brow with the back of his hand. “Alice was racked with grief. She ignored our requests and began turning up on our doorstep, pleading with us to see you.” Papa stopped, shook his head and groaned. “It was so pitiful.”

  I recalled the heart-warming Alice when we had first met, tried to connect her with this sad, obsessive woman. Compassion for her filled me.

  “I wasn’t proud of all that happened,” Papa said, “but here I was, given this unexpected miracle to start afresh, to rebuild our family. I could not allow Alice to be a part of it. She would have been a regular reminder of a time we desperately needed to forget. Naturally, Alice did not take it well. She began stalking us, called on our phone many, many times, even sat at our front door banging and banging and banging.”

  “So how did you stop her, Papa?”

  My father clenched his hands into a tight, knotted fist. “I had a restraining order filed against her. I hated doing it, but I had no other option.” Papa stopped, looked at me. “Please believe me, Carino, I did care for Alice, quite a lot. But I cared for our family more.”

  Strangely, I did believe him. His voice, his expression both appeared genuinely regretful.

  “A few days later, Alice turned up, yet again. I had just returned home from work. When I got out of the car, there she was, standing across the road. I was annoyed. I hurried over to her, threatened her with the police. She pleaded for me not to call them; swore on your life, that she would never contact any one of us again, if she could at least say one last goodbye to you.”

  “And did she, say goodbye, I mean?” As with everything from that era, I had no memory of it.

  “Only from a distance; that was all I would allow. You needed no further upsets and I didn’t want your Mama to know. The next day, I took you to a large nearby park. I spotted Alice in the shadows of an old oak tree. From there she watched you for almost an hour. After that, she turned and walked away. We never saw or heard from Alice Polinski again, until of course….”

  “She got shot at my complex.”

  My father nodded.

  “And the figures that you insisted were my imagination. Could they have been Alice?”

  “There was no-one there, Carino. Your Mama and I were naturally concerned when you first started talking about them but we never saw anyone. We decided it was most likely a leftover memory from when Alice did stalk you in Sydney.”

  No, Papa, they’ve never been leftover memories.

  “In time,” Papa went on, “we knew if we were to ever escape the past, we had to leave Sydney. We then moved here, to Nankari Bay, where your Uncle Al and Aunty Lia were living. Al gave me a job at his demolition car yard. And little by little, our life got back to some normality.”

  I sat speechless for a time, absorbing. Certain events were at last beginning to make sense. Even though, there were still more questions to ask. I noticed my weary-looking father, his head buried in both hands. I noticed Nate looking as shell-shocked as a war ruin and I noticed the very soundless, very unobtrusive Saul staring at me with… what was it exactly… admiration?

  I cast all three from my buzzing head and began my next round of questions. “When did you actually give me to Alice?”

  My father looked up. “I will never forget the day… December 3.”

  The exact day I received Alice’s birthday cards each year. “Did all the family know about this?”

  “Not me,” piped in Nate.

  I forced a smile. All this had to be a far worse for Nate than it was for me. At least, I had been semi-prepared for some of it.

  “Of course,” my father said.

  “And they kept it secret all this time?”

  Papa shifted positions, some of his old self-pride returning in the noticeable firmness of his voice. “It is the Cabriati blood, Claudia. We stand by each other no matter what.” And more distinctly, “We look after our own.”

  There was something strong and honest in Papa’s last words.

  Yet, highly disturbing.

  “And Mama? Did she not once come to see me?”

  Papa sighed heavily. “You are not to be angry with her. She had her own problems and as expected, she thought you were safe with me. She didn’t even know about Alice Polinski, not until much later.”

  Perhaps Papa was right, but it didn’t appease the growing hurt I felt. Lethargy, disappointment, whatever, took a rapid hold over me, and I slumped back. I knew there were more questions. But the ability to remain focused was becoming more and more difficult.

  Thankfully, Saul intervened. “Sir, I have a few questions.”

  My father considered Saul with a clear, hostile expression.

  I stepped in immediately. “Saul is helping me, Papa, and I trust him, please.”

  Papa wasn’t so accepting. “What can he do for you that we cannot?” he snapped.

  “Not lie to me, for one,” I snapped back.

  Papa scoffed, casting his head aside. “Men like him will only cause you more harm.”

  Men like him?

  “You belong here where we can keep you safe.”

  “I can keep her safe also,” Saul announced, seemingly unruffled by my father’s harsh appraisal. “But Claudia’s safety is contingent on us getting to the truth. If she is your primary concern, then you would be encouraging me, as well as Claudia, to find the answers.”

  For a weird, brief second, I saw Papa as a father lion fiercely protecting his cherished litter, all stiff, intimidating bristles and thunderous snarls, ready to pounce.

  “You have answers,” he growled.

  “And a lot more questions. Need I remind you that there are two dead bodies associated with your daughter? It’s important we find out why and who is responsible, before anyone else gets hurt.”

  An unusual fusion of fear and displeasure crossed my father’s face as he ordered Saul to ask his questions.

  Saul bent forward. “Where did Alice and Claudia live?”

  My father shifted again. This time it was an awkward, prickly shift. “They lived in a few places.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know exactly. It was a very long time ago. Once in Parramatta, Cronulla perhaps.”

  “Always in Sydney?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Think so, Papa? Did you not always know where your so-called precious Carino was?

  “But you knew where Claudia was when you regularly visited her, when you returned to retrieve her.”

  The two men stared at each other without blinking, appearing as if they were still conversing. I closed my eyes, seriously questioning how much more of this ridiculous U-turn in my life I could bear.

  “You said you moved to Nankari because of Alice Polinski. What year was that?”

  A distinct, but short pause from my father. “1990. Claudia was almost eight.”

  “And that was how long after you collected her from Alice?”

  “About five months.”

  “And you were absolutely sure that Alice wouldn’t have contacted Claudia, even after the restraining order ran out?”


  “Ah, the English peoples,” Papa mocked.

  What did Papa mean by that?

  Saul remained quiet, watching him.

  “Alice Polinski was Italian.” Papa said it as one speaking to a fool. “When we swear on our family, or on someone we love, we mean it. Call it respect, honor, superstition if you want. But I knew Alice. She swore on Claudia’s life. She would never break that promise.”

  “And yet she did,” Saul pointed out. “Just recently.”

  “Then there would have been a good reason.”

  “Know what that reason is?”

  Papa shook his head. “I have already said that I had not seen Alice.”

  “Did you know she was living just outside of Nambour?”

  “Not until the police informed me. We were all rather surprised.”

  “Did you inform the police that you knew Alice?”

  “No.”

  No? My Papa lying to the police also?

  “Didn’t you think they’d find out eventually?”

  I saw Papa’s face screw tightly. “I have my family to protect.”

  Was that even a rational answer?

  Saul rubbed his chin. “Any idea who could have shot Alice Polinski?”

  My father half-laughed. “Of course not.”

  “Did you know an Anthony Iacovelli? Also went by the name of Colt?”

  “The man found dead in Claudia’s car? No.”

  “No idea why he was at your daughter’s complex?”

  “I think I have answered that question.”

  “You must have some thoughts on the matter?”

  My father glared at Saul, livid and surly-like. “Of course I have some thoughts on the matter. A crazed lunatic out there has targeted my daughter. This is precisely why I want her home.”

  Nate took a strong hold of Papa’s arm. “Papa, calm down.”

  But Saul, with his systematic composure, was relentless. “One more question, Mr. Cabriati. What is it that Claudia is not to remember?”

  The consequence of the question was rapid. My father’s large body jerked violently.

  “Papa,” Nate yelled. “What’s wrong?”

  “Papa?” I parroted.

  However, my father only had eyes for Saul, eyes saturated with pure contempt. Using the sturdy, metal armrests as an advantage, he stood, his trembling body arrowed to the source of his rage. “Mr. Reardon, I would like you to leave now.”

  Saul slowly raised himself from his seat. “Very well, Mr. Cabriati, but just remember, this is your daughter’s life and whether you dismiss the issue or not, there is someone out there, very cold, very calculating and very smart, who is not playing games. Good afternoon to you both.”

  I stood up.

  “You’re to stay here,” my father demanded.

  I knew that now to be impossible. “How can I feel safe amongst people who can’t speak the truth?”

  “I swear, Claudia.” Papa had pitched his voice very low. “I swear if you leave today, if you continue this madness with this man, I will….” His words froze.

  “You will what, Papa? Disown me?”

  His blatant lack of denial struck me with vigor so powerful I mentally curled up. Was this man my Papa, the one who for so long devoted much of his existence to loving me? And yet the same man who had easily discarded me for many years? I felt the first rumble of overdue tears, the sickening spasms in my chest. “You would disown me again?”

  He said nothing, his hurt clearly visible on his face.

  My hurt simply smothered me. “Goodbye, Papa,” I barely breathed. And with that, Saul and I left.

  Before reaching the car, Nate had caught up to me. “What the hell is going on?” he said.

  “I’m not sure.” I glanced towards Saul, who had the passenger door open. “But I guess we’ll find out.”

  “Put your phone on at least, so I can text you… call you.”

  I threw my arms around my gorgeous brother. I tried to recall a time when life seemed less problematic, when the only concerns we had were which one of us would fess up to our latest prank on Milo.

  A thought then crossed my mind. I pulled free from Nate. “If you see or talk to Milo before I do, can you get him to call me immediately?” Privacy was everything with our anti-social brother.

  Nate screwed up his face. “Why would you want to?”

  “I need to talk to him. He knows something of great importance.”

  Of that I was now certain.

  Chapter 17

  Araneya Estate

  1988

  “PAPA,” THE LITTLE girl screamed. Her hair flounced in all directions as she scampered down the cobbled driveway.

  He had just driven through the ironclad gates. He pulled his station wagon to a halt, flung the car door open and in a flash, ran along the same pathway into the arms of his daughter. “Carino,” he murmured. She was all warmth and giggles. How he loved her, that oval face beaming at him, those wide, glimmering eyes that mirrored his adoration. Why had he taken so long to see her this time? What was wrong with him? He knew all too well the frailty of the future. He was, at times, beyond redemption.

  “Papa, I missed you.”

  If it was at all possible for a body to be severed and still survive, then that was his pain at that moment. “Oh my Carino, I missed you too. Your Papa has not been well.” His excuse was pathetic but it gave her the solace she deserved.

  “Are you feeling better now?” Her eyes brimmed with optimism. He savored the moment with his daughter and thought if innocence in its purest form could be captured in something so corporeal, then she was that thing.

  “I am getting better,” he said. The words sounded like truth to a child’s ears. “I just need a little more time and then we will be together.”

  “All of us,” she sang, clapping her hands in rhythm with her words.

  “Of course, Carino, all of us.” He held out a parcel wrapped in silver and surrendered it into her eager hands. “I have a present for you.”

  She drew it close to her chest and held it there, taking pleasure in its existence. A mixture of joy and shame quickly hit him. “Where is Alice?”

  She grabbed her Papa’s hand and while humming and skipping, led him back along the meandering path, past the lions and the fountain and over the rise to the little cottage.

  The white stoned dwelling was a page from a children’s storybook. Vibrantly colored gardens fenced it. A tall, wired archway entwined with emerald ivy, served as an entrance. Once through, the little girl hurried up the pathway to the open wooden doorway. “Alice,” she screamed, “Alice, quick, Papa’s here.”

  A young, waiflike woman appeared at the door, hastily fingering her fair hair into place, then smoothing the wrinkles from her midnight blue dress. Her pretty face searched for the person in question and once seeing him, smiled happily.

  The man ventured closer, his eyes now fixed to the woman. No words were necessary to explain his lengthy absence; no presents to nullify the guilt. He simply drew Alice into his arms and kissed her. After a moment, he pulled back. Then in one brisk movement, he scooped up his daughter and entered the house.

  “See, Alice?” the girl said. “I told you he would come soon.”

  Alice reached over to her and gave her hand a loving squeeze. “You were right, my little one, you were right.”

  Chapter 18

  Claudia

  December 26, 2010

  6:25 pm

  I WAS SILENT for the entire trip back to Saul’s house. When we pulled up in his driveway, he asked me if I was all right.

  I wasn’t sure if I was. I wasn’t even sure if I was reacting the way I was supposed to, you know, like the way normal people would–those who weren’t associated with two murders, three if you included Simon–when discovering their birth was an accident, that not only had they been given to someone else as a result, but for seven whole years.

  I felt frozen, disconnected, completely burnt out.

  P
erhaps that was normal.

  “I’m okay. Tired, but okay.”

  Once indoors, I promptly excused myself and went to my bedroom. I retrieved my phone from my bag and turned it on. Ignoring the many texts and missed calls, I tried to ring Milo. His phone was off. No surprises there. I quickly fingered a request to call me as soon as possible. I then set about making myself appear a little less like shit.

  The shower was perfect, cool and refreshing. It loosened my stiff muscles, helped dampen the persistent, dull throb in my head. Even the sweet smell of orange body wash was surprisingly uplifting. I stayed immersed beneath the powerful water jets, until my fingers wrinkled, until I felt strong enough to continue with my absurd life.

  Once dried and dressed, I pocketed the phone into my stonewashed shorts and returned to the living area. I found Saul on the outdoor deck reclining on one of two sun-loungers. An opened bottle of white wine, two glasses, one almost full, the other empty, stood on a wooden table attached to the side of his lounge.

  The sun was setting to the rear of us. Its rich, shimmering hues commanded the skies, stretching across the lush vegetation to the dark blue of the ocean. And the only sounds were those of the abundant wildlife.

  I didn’t refuse the offer of a drink or the occasion to unwind alongside of Saul. I nestled into the other sun-lounger, felt its soft fabric brush the skin of my legs and laid my head against the thick headrest. I sighed and tried to compartmentalize much of the day. I needed time to center, if only for a moment.

  Saul passed a glass of wine to me. “Are they always like that?”

  I placed the wine on my own attached side table and then swatted a ravenous insect on my arm. “Who?”

  “Your family.”

  “Deceiving, over emotional, demanding… what part?”

  “Hmmm… more like over-protective.” Saul set about lighting several large potted candles. Within seconds, the tangy smell of citronella suffused the air.

  “You noticed!” I said with some derision. Then in kinder tones. “They just worry.”

  Saul was quiet.

  “I guess I’ve always given them so much to worry about. And when things went wrong, I, well… would fall apart and allow them to step in.”