by John Kelly
Elsie Steedman sat down and tried to absorb the tidal wave of information Maria had revealed. Her thoughts reverted to the night of the family meeting when her son Warwick first revealed the shattering news that Andrea had a daughter. That revelation was a nightmare for her. Since then, she had adjusted to the news somewhat, but the pain of being shut out by her daughter persisted. It was now with some relief that she learned the truth of the matter. It did not relieve the pain, but at least she was able to rationalise Andrea's motives, however wrong she thought they were. As she thought the matter through, she agreed that Warwick had to be told. He was executor of Andrea's estate. He had hired people to find her, probably at some personal expense.
She phoned his office only to learn that he was at home. She then rang his home, at the same time that Gerard Martin arrived at the front of the housing commission flats.
As Gerard entered the front foyer of the flats, two miles to the north, Alberto Antonini was driving his taxi up to the drop off point at Spencer Street railway station.
"Here we are," he said to Michelle. "That will be thirty-five dollars please." Michelle thanked him and handed him a fifty dollar note. "I'm sure I've seen you before," Alberto said as he handed back fifteen dollars in change. "I never forget a face," he said. "Can't think of anywhere," Michelle said. Alberto climbed out of the car and opened the boot to retrieve Michelle's case, at the same time as Michelle got out of the car. Suddenly it came to him. "The taxi rank at Doncaster, that's it. You came up to the taxi rank at Doncaster one morning. You were not happy. You wanted a ride. Julian took you, I remember now," he said, delighted that his memory had not let him down. The mention of Julian's name paralysed Michelle.
"Yes that's it. Julian took you. We were joking later that he missed a call to the airport, but he said it didn't matter." Michelle turned her attention to her baggage, avoiding any further eye contact with Alberto.
"Thank you for your help," she said, and added, "I have to catch a train now, goodbye." Without any further word, Michelle made her way to the front entrance of the station.
When Warwick Steedman answered the phone, he was expecting it would be from the office and answered with his executive voice. "Warwick Steedman," he said abruptly. He was somewhat jolted when Elsie responded. "Warwick, it's your mother, don't put on that official sounding voice on my account," she said, not the least bit intimidated. "Sorry mother," he said rather sheepishly. "What are you doing at home?" she asked. "Are you ill?" Warwick was not physically ill, but the events of the previous night had taken their toll, psychologically and emotionally.
"No, mother, I'm perfectly fine," he lied. "Just taking a break, that's all. What's up?"
"I've found Mary Therese for you," she said.
There was only silence from the other end. "Did you hear me?" she said, "I've found Mary Therese. She's here. She's in Melbourne." Warwick could not believe what he was hearing.
"What do you mean? How could you have found her?" he asked. "Well, I didn't find her. Andrea found her all along," Elsie said. "She must have been protecting her or something. I don't know. Didn't you say that Andrea asked you to find her? It doesn't make sense to me, but anyway, she's here, in Melbourne. So you can call off your search. Maria Stewart has been looking after her."
The mention of Maria Stewart embarrassed Warwick. He knew she was Andrea's sister, and met her briefly when the two women were reunited two years ago. But even after subsequent and equally brief meetings, he had never warmed to her. She was the one who looked after Richard and Warwick had always avoided Richard. He was happy to pay for Richard's upkeep, his taxi fares, his clothes, his occasional outings organised by Elm Tree Cottages. But that was as much involvement as he wanted with Richard, and he was therefore wary of those whose task it was to care for him.
"Maria Stewart?" he queried. "How did she get involved?" Elsie was annoyed at the question and also Warwick's tone of voice. "Warwick," she said forcefully, "Maria is Andrea's sister. Of course she was involved with Andrea. Don't question her in that manner. As generous as you have been to Richard, you have not been a brother to him. Maria has been his de facto sister, his carer, his constant companion. In fact, she's been everything that you haven't been."
Elsie surprised herself with her forcefulness, and although pleased that she still had the mental strength to put Warwick in his place, she was saddened to have to do so. As she spoke, she heard a knock on the door. Glancing through the lounge room window, she saw an elderly man outside. "I'll talk to you later. There's somebody at the door. But you can call off the search," she repeated defiantly. "Mary Therese has been found."
Maria Stewart was stunned. As Julian drove her home, he told her of the events the previous night at the prayer meeting. "Douglas Bilby shot himself?" she repeated over and over again. "Why? Why? Poor Michelle, she must be devastated. No wonder she didn't pick me up. She must be in so much shock, she's forgotten. She must be at home. Can you take me there now?' she asked Julian. "Yes, if you want to," he answered, "but there's more," he added.
"What?" she asked.
"Michelle wasn't having an affair with Bilby. It was more like a father, daughter thing. Bilby was gay." Maria gasped for air.
"Gay? Him? This is too much. Who told you that?" she squealed. "Michelle told me at the hospital last night," he answered.
"What hospital?" she asked, her voice pitched at high 'c'.
"Here. We were both here last night getting checked out," he said.
"You and Michelle were here last night?"
"Yes, in the emergency ward. We weren't here that long. Michelle had fainted last night and hit her head when she fell back. She was placed under observation for a while, but it was only light concussion. I had a sprained ankle. I got it from kicking in the door to the back room. That's where Bilby did it."
"Christ Jesus!" Maria exclaimed.
Warwick Steedman replaced the receiver and sat down. He found it hard to reconcile what his mother had just told him. But he forced himself to accept it, for the moment anyway. The news had temporarily distracted him from his concerns about Robert, Jill and his wife Susan. His thoughts then shifted to Brad Murphy. He realised he had to call him.
At the time, Brad Murphy's plane was just touching down at Brisbane airport. His meeting the previous day with Rosie Fitzgibbon in Cairns, and their late night dinner, had imbued him with a wealth of information. He believed all that Rosie had told him, and she had told him plenty. He knew the truth about Julie Macleod. He knew the truth about James and Irene Campbell. He believed he knew the whereabouts of Mary Therese. 'Sydney! Living with her father!' As a consequence of all the information he had learned from Rosie, his opinion and attitude toward Warwick Steedman had now been profoundly affected. 'What on earth was Warwick up to? Why did he use me this way? I will have to have it out with him. I will not stand for this. It is outrageous that he should treat me this way,' he thought to himself as he prepared to leave the plane. As he walked down the centre aisle, preparing to exit the plane, another thought crossed his mind. 'What a fantastic story this will make. I've got to get all this down on paper.'
Warwick Steedman, picked up the phone again, and dialled Brad Murphy's home number. Brad's daughter Sonia answered. "Hello, yes," she said. "This is Warwick Steedman calling from Melbourne. Is Brad Murphy there please?" he asked. "No, I'm afraid not. Dad is on his way back from Cairns. You might be able to contact him on his mobile number," she said. "Christ, what the devil is he doing up there?" Warwick said, anxious to speak with him, and completely forgetting that Brad had told him previously about the live television broadcast. "He was doing a TV show there all last week," Sonia answered. "Oh, okay, sorry. I think he might have mentioned that to me at some stage. Just a second I'll see if I have his mobile number," Warwick replied.
Julian and Maria pulled up outside Michelle's house. "Let me go in alone, if you don't mind," Maria said to Julian. "I want some time alone with my niece." Julian nodded in agreement. Maria walked to the fr
ont door and knocked. As Julian waited out the front, a lady from across the road approached him. "Hello," she said. "Are you free? I need a taxi to take me to the shopping centre." Julian immediately recognised the lady from an earlier trip when he had picked her up from a shopping centre and brought her home. "Er no, sorry, I'm engaged at the moment," he said. "Oh, sorry," the lady said. "I thought you were leaving that other lady here." Julian looked back to where Maria was standing at the front door. She had knocked three times and there had been no response. "Er, no, the lady is checking on someone," Julian replied.
The woman looked across and noticed Maria. "Oh she won't find anyone there now. The young woman who lives there left in a taxi this morning," she said. "She had a large suitcase with her. I think she was going away somewhere." Julian stared at the woman, stunned. "She left this morning?" he said.
"Yes, I saw her go," the woman replied. Julian looked back toward Maria, who was still standing at the front door. He jumped out of the car and ran up the footpath. "Maria," he said, "she's not there. She left this morning with a suitcase. The lady from across the street saw her go," he said. "My God, what has she gone and done?"
Maria stood there thinking. "I need to get inside. Just to check on things," she said. "Do you have a key?" Julian asked. "Yes, but it's at home. Can you run me home and then bring me back?" she asked.
"Sure," Julian replied. "Let's go."
Brad Murphy was waiting at the baggage collection area when his mobile phone rang. He moved away from the milling passengers to take the call.
"Brad Murphy," he said.
"Brad, it's Warwick Steedman." The mere mention of his name caused Brad tension. He hadn't yet formulated what he would say to Warwick. He was still feeling betrayed, and he didn't like that feeling. He decided that, for the time being, he would play along with whatever Warwick wanted to discuss. He needed time to think things through.
"Hello Warwick, hope you can hear me all right. I'm at the airport, just got in. It's very noisy here," he said.
"Yes I can hear you fine," Warwick said. "I just wanted to let you know that we have located Mary Therese. You can call off the bloodhounds. She's here in Melbourne. She has been here all long from what I understand." Brad was staggered.
"Er great news, that's great, er, what's the story? How did you find her?" he asked, unable to bring himself to challenge Warwick's news.
"Actually, I don't have all the details yet. It seems Mary Therese was staying with Andrea's sister. I haven't even met her yet, but I'm sure I'll find out what happened in the next day or so," he said. Brad had one ear listening to Warwick, with a finger blocking the other ear from the noise around the baggage collection area. Just then, he noticed his luggage pop up onto the platform, and moved forward to retrieve it.
"Warwick, I'll have to go. Let me get settled at home, and I will call you back tomorrow," he shouted. Brad ended the call and collected his luggage. As he made his way out of the terminal to catch a taxi, he tried to make sense of it all. 'Either somebody is lying to me, or I am losing my mind. But one way or the other, I'm going to get to the bottom of this,' he pro
Elsie Steedman opened her front door. The elderly gentleman immediately removed his hat and introduced himself. "Good afternoon, my name is Gerard Martin. Would you be Mrs. Elsie Steedman, ma'am?" Elsie was taken back with his politeness. She wasn't used to that. "Yes, I'm Elsie," she answered, brushing back her grey hair from her cheek. "I wonder if I could have a word with you concerning a business matter," Gerard asked. Elsie had no idea what the business matter could be, but somewhat enchanted by his politeness, and gentle persuasion, she was happy to be guided by him. "Yes, what is this all about?" she asked.
"It's a matter concerning your daughter, Andrea. I understand she is not well, and so I didn't want to bother her. My son Frank, who is a solicitor in Baldargo gave me your name and address, well, most of it, and suggested I speak with you instead."
The mention of Andrea's name, brought a pained expression to Elsie's face, such that Gerard stopped what he was saying and asked, "Is everything all right?" With a lump in her throat, Elsie forced herself to say it. "My daughter Andrea, passed away two weeks ago," she said quietly. Gerard was shocked. "I'm so terribly sorry. I had no idea. Perhaps this can wait. Maybe I should come back some other time," he said with sensitivity and understanding. "Frank should have told me. It's just that I haven't seen him in two weeks and I'm not sure where he is right now. Oh dear, this is very embarrassing," Gerard continued. "No, no, it's all right," Elsie said, now trying to comfort him. "There's no need to come back. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea perhaps?" It was the cup of tea that brought an instant nod of the head from Gerard. "Well, yes, if it's not too much trouble?" he replied.
When Gerard Martin entered the flat, he was impressed with its simplicity. It reminded him of his own place. Simple, but tastefully decorated, with an absence of modern hi-tech appliances. There were just the basic necessities of life, without all the fancy trimmings. He felt an immediate connection with Elsie. That made his visit all the more difficult, but he felt it had to be done.
Elsie made tea, and the two sat down in the lounge room. "You said your son Frank gave you my address. I don't know any solicitor in Baldargo. How did he know who I was?" she asked.
"Frank was a business associate of your daughter's, as I understand it," he replied. "I think they first met when Frank was studying at university back in the eighties. Your daughter was in property I believe?" Elsie smiled and nodded. "Yes, she was in a lot of things. Buying, renting and selling mostly." Gerard took a sip of tea. "I never met your daughter, but I know that Frank did some conveyancing work for her, at least once. Lovely taste," he said taking a sip of tea. "Would you like a biscuit or a piece of cake?" Elsie asked. "I have some fruit cake in the pantry?" Gerard nodded once more. This was the way things were done in the country. He was feeling relaxed now, a far cry from the nervous wait he had experienced earlier in the day. Checking his watch however, he realised he had limited time. His train would be leaving in an hour, and it was at least a fifteen minute walk back to Spencer Street Station. As Elsie cut some fruit cake, he decided to get down to the reason for his visit.
"A little over fifteen years ago," he started, "your daughter Andrea, bought a property just out of Baldargo. Did you know that?" he asked. Elsie shook her head. "Andrea bought a number of properties, here and there. She may have mentioned one in Baldargo, but I don't recall it," Elsie replied. "Well, it was forty acres of prime potato land and it was right next door to my land, where I have been farming potatoes for nearly thirty years now. We always referred to it as the 'western paddock' in those days." Elsie followed what Gerard was saying with a nod. "At that time, I was interested in buying that property to expand my own interests," he continued, "but the price city people were paying, to have a slice of the country life, was much more than I could afford. So my neighbour George Kenny sold it to Andrea."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Elsie said, detecting a note of regret in Gerard's voice. "No, that's all right. I didn't mean it to sound like that," Gerard said. "That's just some of the early history. Anyway, my neighbour George, told me at the time that he didn't think Andrea had any immediate intentions to develop the land, or farm it, or do anything at all really, so he suggested to me that I could probably plough it and sow a few potatoes anyway," he continued. Elsie nodded her head as she followed the gist of Gerard's story.
"So did you?" she asked.
"Er, yes, I did." Gerard said, sipping his tea. He felt a somewhat relaxed attitude coming from Elsie. She seemed quite unperturbed by it all. This gave him added confidence to continue.
"I began ploughing a small section at first and then, over time, increased the acreage. All the time, I was expecting that Andrea would call in, asking me what I was doing on her land. But she didn't," he said.
"I suspect she was too busy developing other interests," Elsie said, "although it's odd she never mentioned Baldargo." Gerard
opened his briefcase and ruffled through his papers, extracting a manila folder. "Anyway, while all this was happening, my son Frank was studying Law at University. He turned out to be pretty good at it. He got his degree, did his articles, passed his bar exam, and then opened up a practice in Baldargo. This was back in the eighties. He's been there ever since. I'm very proud of him, I must say," Gerard said with a broad grin, pushing his chest out slightly. "I'd be happier if he would just find a nice girl and get married as well, but I suppose you can't have it all your own way, can you?" he joked. Elsie smiled. "What you've described in Frank is almost identical to my Andrea," she said. "So, Andrea never married?" Gerard asked. "No," Elsie sighed.
"Well," Gerard said, looking at his watch again, "that brings me to the present. A few months ago, Frank asked me how long I had been ploughing the 'western paddock', and when we worked it out, it had been over fifteen years," he said slowly. "Goodness me, you must have done very well out of it then," Elsie said, anticipating some good news, utterly oblivious to what was coming.
"Er, yes I have actually. It certainly paid for Frank's education and helped him set up his practice," Gerard said, now carefully choosing his words.
"So why are you telling me this?" Elsie asked.
"Well," Gerard said, opening up his manila folder, "Frank then told me that because I had worked that land for over fifteen years, and the owner had shown no interest in it, I could apply to acquire it, under the Law of Adverse Possession." He stopped talking, to assess Elsie's reaction. She seemed not to fully understand what he had said.
"The what law?" she queried.
"It's called the Law of Adverse Possession, where someone uses something like land for at least fifteen years, and if the registered owner has not shown any interest in it, the person using it, in a manner adverse to the owner's intentions, can apply to have it transferred to them," Gerard said. Elsie silently absorbed this vague reference to the law. "So, what are you saying to me?" Elsie asked, now feeling a trite uncomfortable. "Are you saying that Andrea owned some land in Baldargo and now you own it?" Gerard handed her a piece of paper. It was a letter from Frank Martin, Solicitor, advising Andrea Steedman, 'the owner', of the property detailed below, that the said property had been acquired by Mr. Gerard Martin under the Law of Adverse Possession.
"Er, yes," Gerard replied. "Frank said to post it. I didn't want Andrea to receive this in the mail. I wanted to deliver it personally, just to show there were no hard feelings. Frank said that Andrea wasn't well, and that you would be the best one to bring it to," Gerard replied. Elsie took the letter and read it briefly. "You said that Frank wanted to mail this to Andrea," Elsie said. "Er, yes," Gerard said nervously, sensing that Elsie's relaxed demeanour had evaporated.
"I was of the belief, from what you said, that they were friends, or at least business associates. Why didn't Frank let Andrea know that he was doing this? It doesn't sound like he was Andrea's friend to me," she asked in a controlled but rigid tone. "Yes, well, I suppose doing that, would have compromised my acquisition of the land. When Frank first mentioned this to me, I have to say, I was of the feeling that I was entitled to the land. After all, I have worked it for so long," he answered tentatively, trying not to aggravate Elsie.
An icy silence descended upon the room and Gerard realised that the news he had brought was not being received well and generating some painful memories. He decided he had now overstayed his welcome. Looking at his watch he closed his briefcase and said, "Er, well, that's pretty much it. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I have to catch the train soon, I'd better go. I'm very sorry if I have been the cause of any pain. That wasn't my intention. I truly wasn't aware that Andrea had passed away. I would have waited longer before doing this, had I known."
Elsie was silent. She sat there like a wounded dog.
"Well, I'll be off now. Thank you for your hospitality," Gerard said, trying to express himself with some degree of sensitivity. Elsie was silent. Gerard stood up, and walked to the front door. Turning around to speak once more, he looked down upon the lonely figure of a woman whom he knew he had hurt, and thought better of it. He opened the door, and left slowly, closing the door quietly behind him. Elsie remained where she was, holding the letter from Frank Martin, silently contemplating the loss of her daughter, and desperately trying to find some compensating factor that would help her overcome a resurgence of grief.
32.
