Open Writing

In another month I’ll be eighteen. I’m looking forward to this birthday more than all my earlier ones. I know mum and dad will have a party for me and I’ll receive a galaxy of wonderful presents, but this birthday has a special significance. As an adopted child I will now be legally allowed to search for my birth mother.

‘We’ll give you all our help and love,’ mum said, ‘if you’re sure that’s what you want.’ Dad was a bit more cautious. ‘You have my support, too, but you must think this through, Michelle.' I knew dad was really serious when he used my full name. At all other times he just calls me Chell.

I’ve talked many times to mum and dad about wanting to find my natural mother. They’ve raised me since I was a few days old. Both offered to support me but always cautioned me to think seriously about it. Dad said, ‘Have you thought what would happen if your natural mother said she didn’t want to see you? You’d be devastated wouldn’t you? It’d be even worse if, after one meeting, she says she didn’t want to meet you again. How would you handle that?’

It was typical of dad to zero in on the very problems which were causing me so much worry and nervousness. He’s always been that way. When I wanted to study Anthropology at Uni. he said, ‘Not a great choice,’ Chell, ‘do you realise to get any advancement you’ll have to work in some third world country?’

No wonder I chose Law. I’ve always appreciated dad’s incisive questions. He was right to raise the possibility of my birth mother going into a state of denial. As a typical teenager, I had dismissed these worrying questions as something not likely to happen to me!

I always told mum and dad that I wanted to know my birth mother for medical history reasons. Was I a candidate for breast cancer? Was there any other family medical problem I should know about? It was true I wanted to know these things but really I often wondered what she would be like. Do I look like her? Does she have the same dimple in her cheek that I have? Does she like jazz? Does she like muffins? Does she go bush walking at every opportunity? I had enough questions to fill a hard disk!

Soon after my birthday I wrote to the Department of Human Services for my original birth certificate. After a month had passed and I’d received nothing, I began to worry. I rang the department and was told the certificate was in the mail. Typical!

It was another four days before it arrived. I ripped the envelope open and searched immediately for my natural mother’s name. There it was. Sallyanne Hawthorne. She was born in Broken Hill in 1949 but lived in Wagga when I was born. She was only 16. I looked at the name again for a long time. It was a nice name and had a familiar ring about it for me. Had I ever heard it before, I wondered.

Now that I’d found the maiden name of my mother, I could search the marriage registers for all the intervening eighteen years. I spent hours, when I should have been studying, reading the microfiche records of Wagga marriages at my local library. Although I lived in Sydney I thought it best to begin checking where I knew my mother last resided.

I found nothing and had a deep ache in my heart. How difficult is this all going to be? Should I stop now? A real sense of uncertainty enveloped me. I went to the Internet and read the stories by others who had successfully found a missing parent. I received great encouragement from the story by Cassie. When Cassie had arrived at the same dead-end as I was at now, she went to the department and spoke with a Mediator.

She was told that in many cases, mothers relinquishing their babies suffered from a great restlessness. They wanted to get far away from the place that had left them so emotionally scarred. It would be necessary to check the Marriage Registers of all States. I knew this would involve me in a great time and effort but I couldn’t afford to pay a Searcher. I certainly wasn’t going to ask mum and dad to provide the money.

With just an hour here and there available to me away from my studies, it took almost a month to search the NSW Register. At last I found the entry and let out an involuntary yell, ‘Wow.’ Others in the library gave me the stare they save for just such occasions.

The entry seemed to be printed in inch letters. Sallyanne Hawthorne married Reginald Somers at Dee Why 17 April 1967.

I was so excited, I telephoned dad at his office and told him. He was delighted.

‘Good work, Chell, but please don’t do anything further until we talk.’

I knew the next step was the electoral roll to find where she lived or even if she was still living. Still, I waited until I saw dad. Over a roast lamb dinner, the favourite of the three of us, we talked about what I should do if I found she had a local address in Sydney.
Dad led our discussion. ‘Since your interest in this problem, Chell, I’ve had an itch to know more myself. I’ve done a lot of reading and searching the net. There’s a lot of interesting stuff there.’

‘What did you find, Dad?’

‘Well, the first thing, and this makes sense to me, the adopted child shouldn’t make a phone call or visit the address. You can understand that, can’t you, Chell? It could be so confrontational.’

‘Of course I understand, Dad. My mother may have a complex emotional burden about giving me up. I know there could be a hundred reasons why she had to do it, but I bet she still has scars of that episode in her life.’

Mum interjected at this stage. ‘I’m so pleased you’re mature enough to understand that, Chell.’

‘Another thing I’ve learned, Chell,’ Dad continued,’ the majority of women never resolve having to give up a child. Rarely have they ever told anyone, not even later children or husband. They have a hidden desire to know their child but the emotional problems seem insuperable.’

‘It must come as a frightful shock when their child first makes contact,’ mum said, ‘but I’m sure they hoped it would happen some day. Even so, emotions they’ve kept in secret parts of their hearts are suddenly jerked to the surface.’

‘Yes, Mum. The department recommends the adopted child use a Mediator at this time. It gives the birth mother some time to think about what it all means. I think this is excellent advice and it’s the way I’d like to go. I certainly wouldn’t want to harass her. I don’t think that would achieve anything. I want the Mediator to tell her I exist and maybe fix a meeting. Perhaps somewhere for lunch. That would be easier for her if she had not told any new family, or husband for that matter, that another child had bobbed up.’

‘Another thing, Michelle,’ dad put his knife and fork on the side of his plate and stared directly at me, ‘the name of the husband on that Marriage Register is familiar to me. Unless there happens to be two men of the same name, Reginald Somers is a very ambitious Sydney Councillor. This year he is Deputy Mayor and hopes to be Mayor next year. He doesn’t sound to me like the type who would appreciate his Lady Mayoress suddenly announcing a new child. He’d be afraid it would become public and cost him votes.’

‘Oh my God, Dad. Should I forget all about it? I certainly wouldn’t want to stir up that kind of trouble. Or be in the media myself.’

‘Let’s leave it to your Mediator and birth mother. They can decide what happens next.’

Mum had a puzzled expression. ‘It’s strange you should recognise the name of the husband because I thought I knew the name Sallyanne Hawthorne. There is a program each week on FM 222 called ‘Chatting with Sallyanne.’

‘No wonder it sounded familiar to me when I first saw it on the birth certificate. I read an article in New Idea about her. The story said her husband was a prominent public person and he preferred she use her maiden name for the program.’

‘Well, you have some interesting times ahead of you, Chell,’ Dad said.

I barely slept a wink that night. A thousand questions rattled around my brain. Did I want to continue with this search? Did I want to intrude into such a public family? Will her husband prevent my mother from meeting me? Will she decide to meet me against his wishes? Would I want that? Was I setting myself up for a terrible let down? The questions continued to mount up. I finally got some sleep by deciding, as dad had recommended, leaving it to the Mediator to smooth the path.

The next day I headed straight to the Electoral Office to check if she was listed, or even if she was still living. I stared at the page for what seemed like an age. There they were, one above the other, Somers, Reginald and Somers, Sallyanne with an address in exclusive Vaucluse. My hand began to tremble as I recorded the address.

I looked around for a phone book. I prayed they didn’t have a silent number. Far from it. There in large black letters was the name Reg.Somers, Real Estate Pty. Ltd. Listed beneath this were the addresses of six suburban branches. Reg was obviously doing well for himself and his family. I rang the Department of Human Resources and asked for an interview with a Mediator.

I was told there would be a wait of four weeks before I could have an interview. Nothing seems easy about this search. Again, my enthusiasm took a plunge and left me at a low ebb.

I told mum and dad, over dinner, of the progress I’d made. Dad was philosophical about the delay. ‘It’ll give you more time to think about what you want to say when you meet your mother, Chell. You can also listen to her radio program and at least hear her voice.’

‘I’ve already thought about that, Dad. She is on air next Sunday and I’ll certainly be listening.’

I found the Sallyanne program to be of little interest to me. Her other listeners were more enthusiastic. They were ringing and telling her how much they loved the program and her constructive advice.

During the talkback section she commented on a variety of problems concerning her callers. Trees and shrubs growing over a neighbour's fence, loud music from a house that had a party every week, a truck driver parking his vehicle on the nature strip and obscuring a dangerous intersection. In each case she recommended consultation between the aggravated listener and the neighbour rather than racing off to authority. Why did I think she might be talking about adoptees trying to find their birth mothers?

It was Monday afternoon that I received a phone call from the Department telling me that an appointment had been made with Mediator Robyn Preston. It excited me that my search was nearing a climax, and at the meeting with Robyn, she reminded me of all the reasons why she should make the first contact with Sallyanne. I was happy to agree and asked Robyn to try and make a lunch appointment. I also asked her to make clear to Sallyanne that I didn’t expect her to go through all the reasons why she had to allow me to be adopted. I understood the reasons must have been pressing at the time.

There was one more thing I wanted. ‘Please ask her, Robyn, if I may call her ‘Sallyanne’. There is only one person I can call ‘mum ’ and she’s the one who raised me. I just want Sallyanne and any of her family to be good friends.’

When Robyn rang and told me that Sallyanne was delighted about meeting me, my heart began too hammer with apprehension. ‘Where? When?’ The questions bubbled out.

Robyn continued, ‘She asked me to book lunch for just the two of you at Harbour View restaurant, next Wednesday. So you have just a week to wait. I’ll drive you to the restaurant and introduce you. Then I’ll go and wait in my car for as long as you want to spend together. I have a feeling that you two are going to hit it off. Oh, and here’s a pleasant surprise for you, Michelle. She has two other daughters, younger than you. See you at 12.30 next Wednesday,' Robyn concluded.

Mum and Dad became as exhilarated as me when I brought them up to date with my search. ‘I hope it all goes well, darling,’ mum said.

‘It’s a posh restaurant,’ was dad’s comment. Then he added, more seriously, ‘I hope she has told her husband before you meet and can let you know how he feels about you.’

On Wednesday morning I spent a long time deciding what to wear. I finally settled on the new dress I had received for my 18th birthday. It was a shimmering blue creation that displayed my figure to perfection. It had a low cut, but not immodest bodice, fitted waist and tight skirt.

Although I rarely use make-up I decided today was so special I should make an extra effort with my hair and face. I started with my shoulder length brown hair, which had a tinge of red. Not for the first time I wondered whether I should have it cut but that would have to wait. It was soft and shining and I brushed and twisted and coiled it into a variety of styles before I settled, more or less, on my usual fashion. I brushed it back just behind my ears so that the shining gold studs, which were another birthday present, were able to twinkle. A faint dusting of rouge on my cheeks, a light powdering of my nose and just the hint of lipstick to define my lips, and I was happy with my preparation.

Right on time Robyn arrived in her dark blue Holden. As I climbed in beside her she said, ‘You’re looking very beautiful today. Your mother will be so happy. You’re alike.’

‘I really want her to like me,’ I mumbled.

As we made our way through the lunchtime traffic she told me about her meeting with my mother and how she was looking forward to our meeting.

‘I told Sallyanne that you didn’t want to spend your time together going over the circumstances of years ago. She agreed, but insisted I should hear her full story and then tell you as much as you wanted to know. I think you should hear some of it,’ Robyn urged.

‘If that what she wants, I’m ready to listen.’

‘She was only sixteen and three months pregnant before her parents learned of her condition.’ Robyn was speaking very softly and I began to sniffle. ‘Her father arranged for an abortion to be done in Macquarie street. Sallyanne said when she was called she got as far as the couch and being put into stirrups when she became hysterical and upset. After being swiftly ushered back downstairs her father was called to take her home. He was angry and disappointed.

When she arrived home her mother said there could be no turning back and she would have to go through with the pregnancy. A few weeks later she took her to the Women’s Hospital Crown Street to book in for pre-natal care.

Sallyanne was placed into a home for unmarried mothers and was given one of the little stable-like rooms that ran in a row off a verandah at the end of the yard behind the laundry. The rooms were as narrow as a single bed with enough space at one side to be able to walk up to your pillow and nothing more.

It was tough being an unmarried mother in those days,’ Robyn said. ‘She worked from 6am to 6pm, six days a week, setting and clearing tables for the nurses in the dining rooms in preparation for three meals a day, and spent the time in between polishing silverware. She was not allowed to sit down while she polished the cutlery. You can imagine how her legs must have ached!

‘Sallyanne thinks she stayed there for a few weeks. She awoke one morning to hear a girl screaming and crying. She had gone into labour and the staff refused to let her stop working because her contractions weren't frequent enough. That scared Sallyanne and she called her mother to come and get her out of there. When she got back home she told her mother she wanted to keep her baby.

Her mum then spoke to a social worker who recommended adoption. ‘It’ll ruin your daughter’s life if she keeps the baby, she told your grandmother. She argued with her until she agreed to the adoption.’

While we stopped at red lights, Robyn looked at me and said, ‘You can see that all along Sallyanne wanted to keep you. Nobody ever discussed with her what adoption actually meant or that it was permanent and final. She was never told about a thirty day revocation period. She read about that in a newspaper article. She wasn't advised of any financial provision, childcare facility, foster care facility or any other provision, which was legally available to help her keep her child. Can you imagine how frightening this must have been for a sixteen-year old?’

Robyn was doing her best to tell me my mother had not given me up without a struggle.

‘I don’t want to hear any more, Robyn. I know my mother loved me and all I want now is to share my love with her.’

The small, discreet neon sign read Harbour View. ‘There’s some parking around the back’, Robyn said. ‘That’s where I’ll wait for you. Now we we’ll go in.’ She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘You’re going to love her’, she said.

I climbed from the car and straightened my skirt. I felt sure my thudding heart would be on view through my dress.

When we entered the elegant restaurant the headwaiter swooped to take us to our table. We didn’t need him. I could see the lady we had come to meet in a far corner of the room at a table for two. She stood up as we approached and flashed a dazzling smile. My buzzing mind took in a slimly attractive brunette with small neat features. Her hair was exactly like mine, shoulder length brown with a tinge of red. She had the type of figure one usually sees on magazine cover girls. Her light lemon suit was stylish, not couturier class exactly, but certainly off an expensive peg.

She stepped around Robyn with another smile and took me in a wonderful hug. She held me tightly then moved back and kissed me on the forehead.

‘I’ve dreamed about this day for eighteen years and since Robyn met me I’ve hardly slept. Michelle. I love that name. You are so beautiful. You must have wonderful parents.’

Tears of joy now flooded her eyes and splashed on her cheeks. She brushed them aside impatiently. My eyes began to fog up with tears and my words became thick.

‘You don’t have my dimple,’ I mumbled.

‘Wait until you see my other daughters,’ Sallyanne laughed and led me to a chair.

Robyn then spoke for the first time. ‘I’ll leave you two to have a nice lunch and I’ll meet you Michelle whenever you’re ready.’ With a wave of her hand she left us together.

Sallyanne leaned across the table and took both my hands. ‘This is so wonderful, Michelle. You’d never believe the number of times I’ve dreamed about this meeting.’

‘The same with me. I’ve thought about it since I was ten years old.’ I smiled.

‘You have a beautiful dimple, Michelle. Wait until you see your sisters.’

‘Sallyanne, did Robyn explain that I would like to call you “Sallyanne”?’

‘Yes she did and I love that. We’ll be real friends.’

‘I’m so anxious to meet my sisters. What’s their names? How old are they?’

They’re so excited about meeting you. They wanted me to bring you home tonight. Caroline is 12 and Fiona is 14. Fiona says she’ll now have an older sister like Caroline does.’

‘I’m looking forward to having two sisters. What about their father? What are his thoughts about you having another daughter turn up on the scene?’

For the first time, Michelle noticed a slight hesitation before Sallyanne answered.

‘Reg is a Real Estate Agent. When working he thinks nothing but Location, Location, Location. He is also a City Councillor. When he’s wearing his Councillor’s hat he thinks only Votes, Votes, Votes. He plans to stand for election as Mayor this year. He didn’t take it calmly when I told him my news, believe me. He really threw the toys out of the cot! He stormed around the room. He flung the fridge. open and grabbed a stubby.

Then he began to yell, ‘If the local papers get to hear this I’ll be sunk before I get started. For God’s sake, Sallyanne, can’t we keep this quiet for another year? Can’t you see the Telegraph headlines, ‘Would-be Mayor has another filly.’ ‘Somers of the 3rd Doll’ Councillor finds another vote.’ He could see his goal of being Mayor going out with a tide of ridicule.’

Sallyanne couldn’t suppress a laugh. ‘Reg is a wonderful husband but he can’t stand his plans being sabotaged. Don’t you worry, Michelle, I’ll see he doesn’t take it out on you.’

A waiter arrived with a platter of delicious looking ribbon sandwiches surrounded by colourful slices of pink watermelon and pale green honeydew melon.

‘Looks good,’ Sallyanne pushed the titbits towards me. ‘I ordered while waiting for you. Hope you like sandwiches.’

‘Anything except tomato.’

‘Isn’t that a coincidence? I don’t like tomato either. There’s none among this mouthwatering lot.’

Sallyanne chose herself a pineapple and mild cheese nibble then smiled again.

‘Robyn said you were studying Law. What year have you reached?’

I’m in my second year. One more to go then my articles.’

‘I’m so proud of you Michelle. The rest of the family is bursting to meet you. Will you come for dinner Saturday night?’

‘Sallyanne, I can’t believe I’m about to meet my sisters but I’ve got a bit of a thing about your husband. I had a little giggle. I hope you can convince him I’m not about to upset him. I hope he’s over his initial shock by Saturday. I’m anxious now to tell mum and dad about our meeting. They’ll both be apprehensive until I get home. Mum will be at the gate waiting for me!

‘See you again Saturday.’ Sallyanne rose and hugged me then kissed my cheek. We walked out to Robyn’s car together. Sallyanne remained there waving until we were out of the carpark.

Dad was not yet home from his business but mum couldn’t wait. ‘Tell me all about it’ she said taking off her apron and sitting at the kitchen table. She smiled when I told her we both disliked tomatoes.
“You’ve hated them from four years old,’ mum said.

I heard the garage door open and knew dad was home. He strode into the kitchen with a big grin on his friendly face.

‘You’re going to have to tell it all again, Chell. I know Mum wouldn’t wait.’ Dad grabbed a beer from the fridge. flipped the top off, and took a swig. He hooked a barstool with his foot and pulled it out where he could sit.

Although Dad owned Apex Printing works and employed twelve other men, he still wore overalls to work. Polio had made rough work of his left leg as a child, but he was every bit as rugged as the Blue Mountains. A wild dance of red hair topped his freckled face, highlighting his sparkling eyes and ready smile. He had meaty hands that would never be completely clean, the kind that took printing machines apart and still could tie a fly onto a line.

When mum gently suggested he wear a suit and collar and tie, dad was scornful. ‘What a way to start my day, putting a noose around my neck!’
-
I retold dad all I had given mum. ‘And, by the way Dad, her husband is a councillor, and he’s not happy about me bobbing up on the scene. Sallyanne said he wanted to keep my existence secret for another year.

‘I hope you didn’t agree to that.’ Dad wiped a big hand across his mouth.

‘No way, Dad but there’s nothing I could do about it if Sallyanne wanted to let the world know she had another daughter. Anyhow, she said she’d make sure he didn’t take it out on me. I’m going there for dinner Saturday night.’

‘It’s wonderful you found your mother, Chell, and it will be great for you to have two new sisters as friends.’

Both mum and dad were genuinely happy for me. I’d been worried they may have thought I wasn’t happy at home.

‘I was wondering whether I should take a present on Saturday night. What do you both think? Should it be something just for the girls or something for the whole family? I’d have no idea what to get the family. I think they probably have every thing they want.’

Mum spoke first. ‘I think they’d all love to have an album of photographs of you Michelle. You know, baby pictures, the day you took your first step, school pictures, the fancy dress ball, teen pictures, the holiday in Tasmania. We could easily put something like that together before Saturday.’

Trust mum to come up with something exactly right, she’s marvellous at choosing presents.

‘I’ll get an album tomorrow,’ I said and gave mum a hug.

‘If that husband of her’s gives you any angst, Michelle, let me know. I’ve handled that type before.’ Dad was back to serious mode.

The next couple of days were difficult for me. I found it impossible to concentrate on studies. One moment I was exhilarated about seeing Sallyanne again and joyful at the thought of meeting two sisters. Then my stomach would flip as it reminded me I also had to meet the man who wished I didn’t exist. I’d take a deep breath and tell myself I do exist and I don't intend letting any creep prevent me from seeing my mother and sisters.

When Saturday arrived I was still nervous about what was ahead of me. Again I spent ages deciding what to wear. Mum suggested I always looked good in my dark blue silk slack suit. That’s what I settled on. I had the same trouble with my hair that I always seem to have when I want to look good. Eventually I pulled it back and snapped on a scrungy, white with blue spots. I put on a silver necklace and bracelet that dad bought for me when I succeeded in getting University entrance.

Dad was going to drive me to Vaucluse but at the last moment he said he’d prefer to pay for a taxi, both ways, for me.

‘I don’t want risk a chance meeting with any of your new relatives until I’m sure they have all accepted you as a member of their family, Chell.’

‘I understand, Dad. We’ll know better after tonight!’

The taxi let me out in a small exclusive court in front of a stylish, two-story white residence. Behind me was Port Jackson, sparkling in the afternoon sunshine, and I realised the views from the home must be spectacular.

From the roadway I could see right back to the Opera House. My nerves caused me to trip on one of the steps that led to the front door, through a landscaped garden so perfect it could have had plastic surgery.

I pressed the doorbell and turned to look out to sea again. I never tire of watching the movement of gentle waves. I heard footsteps coming from inside. How I hoped it was Sallyanne!

No. The door opened and my heart thudded. The man standing there was smiling like someone used to making toothpaste adverts. He was wearing immaculate cream slacks, a red open necked shirt and white leather slip-on shoes. The buckle on his brown leather belt was decorated with a yacht in full sail. He had the suntan and blonde hair of a regular yachtsman. I thought the blonde hair looked a bit too perfect to be natural.

With both arms extended he said, ‘I’m Ron and I know you’re Michelle. Please call me Ron. You are certainly as beautiful as Sallyanne said. Can I have a hug after all this time?’

He smiled again and this time I was stunned to see what I had been too apprehensive to notice when he open the door. He had a dimple, exactly like mine!

He moved forward, took me in his arms and kissed me on the neck. ‘Come on in: we’ve all been waiting for you.’

My mind was in a whirl. Could this be where the family heritage mark comes from? He was certainly not acting the way Sallyanne had indicated.

By this time Sallyanne had hurried up the hall to join us. Behind her I could see two shy, young girls. Both were petite, each smiling face displaying the characteristic family niche.

In the hall I could smell the delicious aroma of fresh baking. I handed the gift mum had prepared for me to Fiona. Both girls became excited and hurried off to their room to open the pretty package.

‘You didn’t have to bring a gift, Michelle. It is us who owe you.’

Sallyanne again smiled the smile that had so bewitched me at the Harbour View restaurant. As we moved off down the hall Sallyanne took my hand and held me back for a moment. ‘After what I had told you I bet you didn’t expect a greeting like that from Ron, did you?’

‘No, I certainly did not. I’d even considered not coming because it meant meeting him.’

‘I have just taken scones from the oven. We’ll have a cuppa and we’ll tell you the full story. You’ve probably guessed by now what I’m going to tell you. I only told Ron yesterday that he is also your father. I must say his reaction surprised even me. He was over the moon with delight. I think his mind slipped into election mode. He pranced around this room, laughing and slapping his hip. He grabbed me around the waist and whooped ‘Can’t you see the headlines?’ ‘Councillor’s Long Search Over. Family Loving Councillor Finds Missing Daughter.’

Sallyanne put an arm around my shoulders. ‘I’m afraid your search is not going to be given much limelight, Michelle. He said if he’d known he had a daughter, he would have been searching the country.’

‘I don’t mind but I don’t want my name mentioned. I’d hate to upset mum and dad, if there are any friends of theirs who do not know I’m an adopted child. How come he only just learned about me?’

‘What secrets are you two swapping’ Ron called from the living room. ‘These scones are best eaten hot.’

‘Coming Ron,’ Sallyanne called back with a chuckle in her voice.

The glorious living room had a large floor- to-ceiling window that provided a panoramic view of the Heads. Every ship coming into or leaving Sydney could be seen for hours. We sat at a large table and Ron poured tea.

‘Has Sallyanne told you we’re all one wonderful family. She only told me yesterday I had another daughter. How could she keep a secret like that?’ Ron flashed his brilliant smile which I’m sure had helped him seal many a contract.

‘Your mother never told me about your birth. She didn’t want to interfere with my career. My firm had moved me to the Sydney Office and she didn’t expect to see me again.

‘I was so much in love’ Sallyanne interrupted, ‘a few months after my baby was taken from me, I came to Sydney and found him again. Within a couple of years we were married. Ron moved out of the real estate Company and started on his own. We’ve been very successful, haven’t we Ron?’

‘Michelle’ Ron turned his sky-blue eyes on me, ‘ talking about business, Sallyanne tells me your dad has his own business. He’s in printing, right? I’m sure I can put a lot of business his way. I certainly owe it to him for having raised my daughter so beautifully.
I’ve got six branches of my Real Estate Co. and they use a lot of printed stationery. Then later in the year, we’ll need a lot of election printing.’

‘Ron, I’ll tell dad. I’m sure he’ll be interested. He’d quickly object if he thought it was charity of any kind.’

‘Well it’s certainly not that, Michelle. He’ll have to produce satisfactory work. Ask him if I can send my Office Manager out to see him.’ Ron moved around beside Sallyanne and the girls, ‘Our family is so much in debt to your mum and dad. We’ve got to have this work done somewhere, it would delight us if your dad could do it.’

The girls were sitting on the bright yellow settee and giggling over something in the photograph album. ‘What’s so funny girls?’ Sallyanne asked.

It was Fiona who spoke up. ‘It’s a picture of Michelle riding a bicycle.’

I laughed and chimed in, ‘I ride a bike everywhere, even to Uni.’

I could see a glaze of tears shining in Sallyanne eyes. She spoke up and said ‘We have another surprise for you, Michelle. You tell her, Ron.’

Ron again flashed his heart warming smile at me and moved his chair closer to me.

What he told me left me speechless. Words I wanted to say wouldn’t come out. I hurried to all four of them and gave each a big hug and a kiss. I now had tears of happiness filling my own eyes.

‘Michelle,’ Ron began again, ‘when you qualify and finish your articles we’d like you to open your own office close to Ron Somers Real Estate Office. You’ve got no idea of the amount of legal work six branches can generate. You won’t have to sit around an empty office for three years waiting for business to grow.’

The man I had come here believing would not want to know me was now making himself so lovable. A wonderful promise and a start to launch my career. I wanted to get home and tell mum and dad.

‘You have all been so wonderful to me; I’m so glad I persevered with my search. How can one person have two such wonderful families.’
Sallyanne popped up and attended to a dinner she had prepared earlier. I could see a huge roast of beef turning a golden brown in the wall oven.

Ron continued to chat on to me about my earlier life. Which schools I had attended? What sport did I play? Did I like yachting? At this point he rose and said’ Come over to the window Michelle. I’ll show you something.’ He opened a drawer in a side table and took out binoculars. ‘Look through these. See the yacht moored three out from the Jetty. The 30ft white hull one. Look at the back of it and you’ll see its name. I adjusted the glasses and focused on the yacht stern.

In large black letters was the name, SALLYANNE

‘Three times I’ve sailed her in the Sydney-Hobart race. ‘Finished twice’, he added with a grin.

‘I hope to get to sail with you one day but it’s going to have to wait awhile. I’ve got studies to catch up with.’ Ron put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. ‘We can’t wait to have you join us on the harbour.’

The girls had prepared the dining table with am attractive dining setting and sparkling cutlery. I noticed they’d set a place for me between the two of them. The aroma of the beef as Sallyanne carved the dinners set my taste buds tingling.

After dinner and another hour of swapping lifetime stories I said I would have to leave. Ron rang a taxi for me.

Mum and dad were waiting in anticipation of my arrival. Both gave me a hug and asked me to fill them in on the day’s activities. ‘Don’t leave anything out,’ dad said. Did that Real Estate Agent treat you properly?’

‘Dad, he could not have been more friendly and welcoming. And here’s a surprise for you. It rocked me! He’s my natural father! Not only did I find my mother but discovered she’d married my father. Hard to believe, isn’t it?’

‘I’m so happy for you, Michelle,’ mum said.

‘Me too,’ dad gave me a wink.

‘Dad, Ron wants to put a lot of printing your way. I told him I’d let you know.’

‘I guess his money is made at the same mint as the stuff we use. I’m prepared to quote on anything.’

I was pleased dad accepted so readily. He does have a thing about Real Estate Agents.

I’ve heard him tell the same derogative story many times. He says a woman he knew was married to a Real Estate Agent but felt so embarrassed whenever she was asked what her husband did she would reply, ‘He plays piano in a brothel.’

Mum and dad fired questions at me until late. Then I casually broke my other surprise. The one Sallyanne asked Ron to tell me.

‘As soon as I get a driver’s license they are going to give me a new car. A new Mazda.

I guess with studies and driving lessons I’m not going to have much free time for the next few months.’