Chapter 18
Angela was holding the front door open as Tamara walked through the gate and up the path. ‘Are you coming in?’ Angela’s voice sounded very frail, and her face was strained and resigned.
‘If I can,’ Tamara answered, feeling as if she was watching this scene from outside of her body. Then she realised that the Tam and the Tamperer had been quiet for a little while—maybe they’d been shocked into silence.
Tamara followed Angela into the kitchen.
‘Would you like a cup of tea? Or one of your leftover beers?’ Angela sounded as though she was entertaining a stranger. In a way, she was.
‘No, thank you. Can I sit?’
‘Yes, of course.’
In her hurry to pull out a chair from the kitchen table, Angela accidentally knocked it over. They bent down together and their hands brushed. Angela gazed straight into Tamara’s eyes. The jolt that Tamara felt was powerful.
In those eyes, she saw remorse, apprehension and fearfulness. But she also saw love. She saw an old lady who was trying to put things right with the adopted daughter she had so badly wanted.
Tamara felt as if she should reach out and take Angela’s hand. Maybe even give her a hug—it had been a long time since she’d done that.
But she couldn’t. Not yet.
Instead, Tamara went around to the other side of the table and sat down.
Angela took her seat. Her chest was rising and falling with quick, short breaths. Tamara hoped she didn’t have a heart problem.
The kitchen table was the same one that had been here when she was a child. An old faded Formica top with chrome around the edges. It was scratched and marked, but polished so that it shone.
Tamara took a breath. ‘I’m really angry,’ she said.
Angela didn’t move.
‘I’m really, really pissed off.’ Although Tamara’s voice was low, it held a great deal of power. She’d practised not letting emotion get the better of her. She didn’t want to yell: quieter tones were much more forceful. Doctor Kerr had helped her with that.
But she found that she couldn’t sit still. She pushed back her chair and started to pace around the kitchen. Glancing at Angela, she saw that her mother—no, she wasn’t that anymore, was she?—had her head bowed and was staring at the table as if she was a naughty child being reprimanded.
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before now,’ said Tamara. ‘You let me think I was someone who I’m not. I could have searched for my birth mother—maybe even met her. Every year that goes by means there’s less likelihood of her being alive. If she’s dead . . .’ Tamara’s mouth dried up. Her tongue wouldn’t work.
Come on, she coached herself. Come on.
‘You know, when I was a kid, I always felt unseen. Unheard. Always, always unwanted.’ She stopped and stared at Angela. ‘Have you got any idea how that affects someone? You and Evan didn’t love me, and now it turns out that my birth mother gave me up. Where does that leave me?’
Angela raised her head, tears on her wrinkled cheeks. ‘Tam, that’s not fair. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I just couldn’t provide it in the way I wanted to.’
The words made Tamara’s heart ache, but she still couldn’t stop pacing, words pouring from her mouth. ‘It took me years of therapy to work out I’m worthy of someone loving me. But even with that knowledge, I can’t get over the fear that whoever it is will leave me. Everyone else has. And you’ve had a hand to play in that.’ She felt as though she was getting rid of every resentment and bitterness she’d ever felt. Doctor Kerr would have told her this was a cleansing process.
Maybe it was. A weight had been taken from her shoulders.
Sitting back down opposite Angela, Tamara let out a huge sigh. Relief overcame her. She’d done it. She’d got her point across without yelling.
Now it was up to Angela.
Tamara looked down and saw her hands were shaking. Funny, she hadn’t felt them doing that. Her nose began to run and she sniffed, not wanting to cry.
Angela seemed to realise her tirade had finished.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I know your life has been very difficult.’ Her voice cracked. ‘But you couldn’t possibly have any idea what it was like to watch Evan treat you with contempt. I loved you—I didn’t want him to be like that with the person I loved most in the world. But I was scared of him, of what he might do to us. The night he threw you out . . . After you’d gone, I couldn’t hold it in, I screamed at him. Told him how much I hated him.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘Then he hit me.’ She looked down. ‘It was over for us from then on, but we kept up appearances.’
My assumption was right, Tamara thought with dull shock.
She wanted Angela to know they had this experience in common. There was a strong bond between people who’d experienced domestic violence.
‘I used to live with a man who hit me,’ she said.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Angela said, more tears spilling down her face.
Tamara lifted one shoulder. ‘It’s in the past.’ She didn’t want to say more about Matt now. It didn’t feel like the right time.
Angela took the hint and dropped it. ‘How about we sit in the lounge room? I’ll make us a pot of tea.’
In a few minutes they were back in the cosy rockers beside the photos on the mantelpiece, with cups of tea and a plate of banana bread on the coffee table.
‘So, why did you keep my adoption secret?’ Tamara asked.
‘Evan didn’t want anyone to know he couldn’t have children. He had such pride! I tried to get him to change his mind, but he wouldn’t be swayed. Every time I suggested you might want to find your birth mother, he refused to agree.’
‘So he hid it from everyone?’ Tamara asked, astonished. ‘How did you get away with not showing you were pregnant? Don’t tell me you wore a fake belly!’
‘I never went out much. Back then, I was a housewife. Other than shopping and church, there weren’t many places for me to go, and you know that our families all live interstate. We lied to everyone. For a few months, at Evan’s insistence, I pretended I had terrible morning sickness and stayed home from church.’
What a story! Tamara ran her hands over her face and leaned her head against the back of the chair. All this bloody emotion was exhausting.
‘So, would you like to find your birth mother?’ Angela asked. ‘What you said in the kitchen—you’re absolutely right. If you don’t look soon, she might pass away.’
‘Yes, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. I don’t know what I want yet. I need time to process all of this.’
Angela nodded. ‘I completely understand. But for now, do you think . . . do you think we could be friends?’
Tamara closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn’t want to make any assurances. ‘We can try. I need to take it day by day. Is that okay?’
Angela nodded, and they gave each other tentative smiles.
‘So, tell me some more about you,’ said Angela.
‘What do you want to know?’ Tamara asked, right before she bit into a piece of banana bread. ‘Wow, this is really good. I don’t remember you making things like this when I was a kid.’
‘Evan didn’t appreciate my cooking. It wasn’t like his mum’s.’
‘Geez, he was a bloody control freak.’
Angela chuckled softly and rolled her eyes. ‘That he was.’
Tamara wanted to keep their conversation light. ‘So, what do you do for fun?’
‘Fun? I’m a little too old for fun.’
‘No, you’re not! What are you, seventy?’
‘Seventy-two next birthday.’
‘Seventy-two is the new fifty-two. You must do something to celebrate!’
Angela looked sad. So much for keeping it light.
‘Well, I don’t have a lot of friends anymore,’ she said. ‘They faded out when you left, and I wasn’t going to the school concerts and so forth. And Evan used to fri
ghten people away. Occasionally we’d go to a movie or a bingo night at the bowling club, but not often. And then, when he wasn’t well, he expected me to stay here with him all the time, waiting on him hand and foot. I had nowhere else to go.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Tamara sympathetically, expecting to hear more about these tough times. She was relieved when Angela’s mouth curved up in a smile.
‘I intend to make up for it now, though!’ Angela declared. ‘The day after he died, I joined the bridge club at the community centre down the road. I don’t know many of the other members yet, but you’re right—maybe I should invite them to a birthday party.’ Her smile widened. ‘What about you? What do you do for fun?’
‘Fun? Hmm.’ Tamara had to stop and think. ‘I take our dog Whiskey for walks in the park.’ She stopped—Whiskey wasn’t ‘ours’ anymore. And he might never be again, she thought sadly. She cleared her throat. ‘I love to go shopping for beautiful clothes and shoes. And I love to sing, but I don’t usually let anyone hear me, unless I’ve had a few and there’s a karaoke machine nearby. And I love the movies!’
Angela nodded. ‘Me too. I saw The Dressmaker the last time I went to the movies.’ She leaned forward and whispered, ‘I laughed so much I wet myself!’ She raised her eyebrows in a comical way. ‘Unfortunately, that’s one of the downsides of getting old. But the movie was fabulous! Have you seen it?’
Tamara burst out laughing. ‘I loved it too! Kate Winslet was so good.’
‘And that Liam Hemsworth . . . is that his name? He’s a twin, I think I’ve read? Well, he’s just gorgeous! That chest!’ Angela sighed theatrically.
Tamara couldn’t stop giggling. ‘I’ll need a beer if we’re going to have this conversation,’ she said. She got up and started towards the kitchen. ‘Liam’s not a twin, by the way. He’s got two brothers, and they’re both actors.’
‘Right! Well, I’ll have to go to the video shop and see what other movies they’re in. Are they all as handsome as each other? I’m sure I could watch the most boring of movies if Liam took his shirt off. Maybe he could just read the phonebook in a pair of undies or something.’
‘Geez!’ Tamara glanced over her shoulder in amazement at Angela’s wicked smile. She fetched her beer and walked back into the lounge room. ‘What else do you like to watch?’ she asked Angela.
‘I like most movies. One that stands out recently is Bridge of Spies. Have you seen it? Tom Hanks is in it, and the client he’s representing calls him “Standing Man”. He keeps getting knocked down, but he gets back up. I liked that analogy.’
‘I tend to avoid the ones with guns and violence. I love comedy. Have you seen Mrs Brown’s Boys on TV? You reckon you wet yourself over The Dressmaker—well, you’d better have a change of knickers handy when you watch that show!’
Before too much longer, the beers and the intensity of enjoying some time with Angela knocked Tamara sideways. ‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘I’ve got work tomorrow and I need some sleep.’
‘But you’ve been drinking,’ said Angela.
‘Light beers. I’m fine to drive.’
‘Where do you live?’ The fear was back in Angela’s voice. She was probably wondering if she’d ever see Tamara again.
‘Well, right now, I’m staying in a motel.’
‘What? I’ve got a few spare bedrooms. You can come and stay with me!’
‘No. I can’t.’ Tamara’s heart picked up speed. ‘We’re only beginning to get to know each other. I just can’t.’ She stood up. ‘Look, I really have to go.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Angela said quickly. ‘We’ve had a lovely evening, and I shouldn’t have pushed you.’
Tamara’s heart started to slow. ‘It’s okay. But I do have to go. I’ll see you again soon.’
‘When?’ The longing in Angela’s face was painful for Tamara to witness.
‘I don’t know. Please, don’t rush this. There are twenty-odd years of making up and catching up to do. One night isn’t going to fix everything.’
Take that Doctor Kerr, she thought. I’ve got a handle on this!
‘Tam, if you want a room here, you’re more than welcome,’ Angela said, standing tall and straight. ‘But I’ll leave it for you to get in contact. The number’s still the same.’
Chapter 19
Skye stood at the end of the couch and stared down at her mum. She was stretched out, one arm over her face, her eyes shut. She looked a bit like how Skye imagined someone dead would look—all grey and drawn.
‘I’ve got to tell you something,’ Skye said.
‘What’s that?’ her mum asked.
Last night, Skye’s mum and dad had told her that the small operation had gone according to plan, the CT scan had been done, and now they just had to wait on the test results. Skye had nodded, then taken herself back upstairs, stuck in her earbuds, and waited for Billy to Snapchat her. They had plans.
Meanwhile, Skye had been working up the courage to tell her mum about her new job—and the shoplifting. ‘I’ll call them late tomorrow morning,’ Tam had told her. Plus her brother, being the arsehole he was, had threatened to tell their parents about her being driven home by some random stranger. Skye was shitting herself.
‘It’s best to be upfront and honest,’ Tam had said in the car. ‘It will make your parents respect you.’
Respect? I don’t know what that is, Skye had thought.
Might as well dive right in.
‘I got caught shoplifting yesterday,’ she said.
Her mum took her arm away from her face and stared at her before sitting up. She was frowning and seemed really confused. ‘What?’
Skye lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to repeat it. Her mum had heard her.
‘You got caught shoplifting?’
‘Yeah. At the shopping centre. I took a pair of shorts and got caught. That lady from Angelic Threads—you know, the one where we’ve shopped sometimes—she stepped in and rescued me. It was so cool. And then she bought me a pizza and offered me a trial job.’
‘When? Why?’ Her mum looked panicky. ‘Skye, why didn’t you call us?’
Skye shrugged. First she felt ashamed, then angry. ‘You were at the hospital.’
‘You’d better talk to me, missy,’ said Lauren, who was now standing. She tried to cross her arms, but Skye could tell from the pained look on her face that her bandage must have pulled. ‘Tell me everything.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. I got caught. That’s all. Now I want to work for Tamara. She says she’ll pay me a fair wage. I’m starting after school today!’
Lauren was shaking her head as if to clear it. ‘But Skye, why? You’ve got everything you could want here. Why would you steal something?’
Skye shrugged again. Why would she tell her mum that? ‘Anyway, I’m just letting you know coz I won’t be home. I have to go to work this afternoon.’
‘Skye, I really don’t understand. I wish you’d talk to me more. And this Tamara, is she the blonde lady? The one who’s always bright and bubbly and remembers everything about everyone?’
‘That’s her. Oh, Mum, she’s really great. She gets everything I told her yesterday.’ Skye’s words gushed from her before she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be nice to her mother.
‘You talked to this woman? Alone? About our private family matters?’ Lauren’s voice rose an octave.
Skye stopped, then said, ‘Gotta go to school.’ She ran out of the lounge room quickly, banging the door behind her. Her mum couldn’t follow her and her dad had gone to work, so she hoped to be able to get to school and then to the shop. She didn’t know much about Tamara, but she knew she’d protect her from her parents.
‘Tamara?’ Lauren asked the blonde woman at the glass-topped counter as she glanced around Angelic Threads. ‘You’re Tamara Thompson, aren’t you?’
Dean stood beside Lauren, a frown on his face.
‘Oh yes!’ said Tamara. ‘You’re Skye’s mum. Good to see you again. I was going to c
all you today.’
‘I’m Lauren Ramsey, and this is my husband, Dean.’
Tamara smiled and shook their hands. ‘So, how are you, Lauren, after your operation yesterday?’
‘I’m fine. Thanks so much for your concern.’
God, aren’t we all being polite? thought Lauren.
She felt Dean shift next to her. He had been wary when she’d rung him at work and asked for him to come home and drive her to the shop. ‘Surely you can do this over the phone,’ he’d said. ‘And I think we should go when Skye’s there. It’s pretty average on her behalf. And you, my love, are supposed to be resting.’
‘We can’t leave it, Dean. This is a family emergency! Plus, it’s only my arm, not anything major. I’m a bit tired, that’s all. If you can’t come, I’ll ring Dad and see if he can pick me up, but I think we really have to.’
‘I agree that we have to go,’ Dean said. ‘But how about once we’ve both talked to Skye? Tonight, maybe.’
‘No. No, I need to find out what happened and how. God, I just don’t understand it. We raised her well.’ Her voice broke off. ‘How is it that good kids go off the rails? All her friends are nice kids—none of them have been in any trouble.’
‘They probably just haven’t been caught. It seems that Skye doesn’t have a future as a criminal mastermind.’
Dean always knew how to cheer her up. But now, in the brightly lit shop, Lauren felt off-kilter. Like the world wasn’t lining up properly. Tamara must think I’ve done a poor job of bringing up my daughter, she thought. As parents, she and Dean had always led by example, making sure that both their kids understood the importance of honesty and integrity. It didn’t seem to have worked for Skye.
Shame rose in Lauren’s throat like bile. It made her think of Dirk and how Zoe must have been feeling after their meeting on Monday. But Dirk had needed her help—he wasn’t able to look out for himself or tell his mother what he needed. Skye was fourteen, nearly fifteen. She should know so much better than this!
‘Now, Lauren.’ Her old mentor, Fran, flashed into her mind. ‘She’s a teenager. Testing the boundaries. Wanting to be noticed. Take a breath before you react.’
The Missing Pieces of Us Page 16