Heart of the Cross

by Emily Madden

  ‘Here you go.’ Mike placed two mugs on the counter, sliding one towards her.

  ‘Thanks,’ Brie mumbled as she took a sip. ‘Look, I’m just going to come out and say it. Are you my father?’

  Mike looked at her intently. ‘This is not the first time I’ve been asked that question.’

  His answer baffled her. ‘What? Who else …?’ And then the penny dropped. ‘I didn’t realise you knew Rosie.’

  ‘I haven’t seen her in over twenty-five years, but yes, Rosie and I had a unique relationship. How is your grandmother? Does she have any idea you’re here?’

  ‘Rosie passed a couple of months ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said with sincerity. ‘She was extremely proud of you.’

  Brie tilted her head. ‘How would you know? You said you hadn’t seen her in twenty-five years.’

  ‘After Maggie died, I asked her to keep me updated on how you were. Every year on your birthday she would send me a photo of you. When you went off to New York, she told me how proud she was of you. I was proud too. You wouldn’t know this—but I bought you your first camera. It was a toy one, of course, but you would hold it so intently, with such poise that it’s no wonder you’ve ended up a professional photographer.’

  His tone was wistful and tinged with regret. Was it because he regretted not being part of her life? Why hadn’t he been part of her life?

  ‘Mike, are you my father?’ she asked once again.

  Mike cocked his head and considered her for a while, but once again avoided the question. ‘Your eyes are the same colour now as they were when you were a baby. I remember Maggie wondering if they would change.’

  ‘You lived with my mother after I was born?’

  ‘And before. Maggie discovered she was pregnant not long after she moved in.’

  ‘So you are my father.’

  Mike slowly shook his head. ‘Brianna, I wish I was. But no, I’m not.’

  Brie looked at Mike in disbelief. ‘But from what I can gather, you had feelings for her.’

  Mike picked up his phone and showed her his home screen. It was a photo of Mike holding a very cute Pomeranian with one hand while the other was slung around a slightly younger man.

  ‘This is Geisha,’ he said, pointing to the white ball of fluff. ‘And the other handsome devil is Byron. We’ve been together for nineteen years.’

  Brie smiled, noting the evident happiness. ‘Longer than a lot of marriages.’

  ‘Honey, if we ever get the go-ahead to legally wed here—trust me, it will be as big and as expensive as you can get,’ Mike said hopefully before his tone sobered slightly. ‘Brianna, I know that you came here for answers and I want to give you all that I have. I know who your father is, but before I tell you his name, I need to tell you about how I met Maggie.’

  For the next while, Mike told Brie how Maggie had ended up working in The Vinyl Room.

  ‘My mother was a bartender?’ Brie couldn’t believe her ears.

  ‘She was hired for her smarts.’ Mike tapped the side of his head. ‘But she was good at what she did.’

  Brie nodded, remembering the uni letter. ‘So what happened?’

  Mike told her of Sharon’s death and how Maggie blamed herself.

  It was sad hearing about her mother from a relative stranger, and yet, it was the most she’d known about Maggie. Rosie often said it made her too sad to talk about Maggie and Brie always had dropped it.

  ‘Did you know my father?’

  ‘He came into the bar one night; that’s how they reconnected,’ Mike told her, explaining how Maggie had fought with Rosie for reneging on her promise to allow Maggie to travel for a year after high school.

  ‘This sounds completely unlike Rosie,’ Brie said. ‘She always encouraged me to travel, to follow my dreams. She wasn’t strict, the complete opposite, in fact.’

  ‘I think losing your mother had a lot to do with that. From what I could see, it made her a different person. The first time I met your grandmother she asked me if I was Maggie’s boyfriend. The last time I saw her she asked me if I was your father. In both cases the answer was no, but I cared deeply for your mother. It was because of her that I came out.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘She kissed me one night, and when I kissed her back and felt nothing, I just blurted out that I was gay.’ Mike chuckled. ‘I’ll never forget poor Maggie’s face—she thought it was she who had turned me. I guess I’d known for a while. Before working at The Vinyl Room, I worked behind the bar at a strip club and probably was the only guy in the joint without a hard-on. Anyway, once I was out, that was it. Maggie made me promise to go in the Mardi Gras, which back then was nothing like it is today, let me tell you. And every year before she died, Maggie would bring you along to the parade.’

  ‘Rosie used to take me every year.’

  Mike smiled. ‘She knew it was something Maggie did for me. I asked Rosie to keep me updated with how you were, and in return I promised to stay away. She wanted the chance to raise you the way she should’ve raised your mother. Despite their estrangement, Maggie loved her mother, and I knew Rosie was suffering enough and I didn’t want to add to that.’

  Brie took in his words. She was glad Maggie had had Mike in her life but was sad that she had no memories of him. ‘I don’t remember you, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Brianna, you were only a baby. Even at four you couldn’t say my name, you used to call me Ike.’ He laughed fondly at the memory and Brie couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘It sounds like we were lucky to have you.’

  Mike gave a small huff. ‘I was the lucky one.’

  Mike took her through his memories of Maggie, including the night Brie was born and her first birthday.

  ‘It was you that took the photo, wasn’t it?’ Brie asked, recalling the photo she’d found of Maggie and her.

  ‘You were so excited to see that cake.’ His smile went from happy to sad. ‘When Maggie died and you went to live with Rosie, I lost you both. It was hard.’

  ‘Why did I go to Rosie? Did my father not want me?’

  ‘Brianna, your father didn’t know Maggie was pregnant. She never told him.’

  ‘But … why?’

  ‘He was a lawyer back then, but he came from a political family. Both his father and grandfather had been in state politics. The day of Sharon’s funeral, Maggie discovered your father was engaged to another woman. A woman deemed suitable for him and his political career. Maggie didn’t know she was pregnant then, she found out a few weeks later. By then, the engagement of this young would-be politician was headline news. As hurt as Maggie was, she loved your father and knew a love child would ruin him.’

  ‘So she sacrificed her own happiness for his.’

  Mike smiled wryly. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Brie’s heart thundered as she asked the question.

  ‘His name is Robert Ryan. Never made it to state politics, but he was a player in local government. I believe he was lord mayor of Sydney a few years back.’ Mike grabbed his phone and started tapping.

  ‘Here he is.’ He slid the phone across the counter and with shaking hands Brie picked it up. It was an official-looking photo of a man in his mid-fifties, give or take a couple of years. There was something oddly familiar about him, which was strange. Was she only thinking it because she knew he was her father?

  ‘I feel like I’ve seen him before,’ Brie murmured as she searched her memory.

  ‘Possibly.’ Mike shrugged. ‘Like I said, he was lord mayor.’

  ‘No, it’s not that. I don’t even know who the prime minister of the country is half the time, let alone the lord mayor of Sydney.’ It was bugging her. His face … where had she seen him?

  ‘You’re not alone.’ Mike chuckled.

  And then it hit her—Avery and Max’s wedding, the guy who had chatted with her as she’d headed out to catch the Uber. The one she had thought looked like Rob Lowe. Rod Cooper’s business associ
ate was her father.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Brie gasped. ‘I’ve met him. I know who he is.’

  * * *

  It didn’t take much detective work to get Robert Ryan’s contact details. Knowing Josh wasn’t probably the best person to approach on the matter, she went straight to Rod Cooper.

  ‘Brie, this is a pleasant surprise.’ He beckoned her inside. ‘Honey, we have a visitor!’

  ‘Rod, the last time you said that it was—’ Sheena appeared at the end of the hallway, her tone changing from wary to excited immediately.

  ‘Brie!’ Sheena enveloped her in a big, perfumed hug, her jade-green tassel earrings tickling Brie’s neck. ‘So nice to see you! Come in, I’ve just made some espresso martinis.’

  Unlike the first Mrs Cooper, Sheena always had been warm and friendly towards Brie. Sheena and Brie had hit it off right away and it only served to annoy Abigail more.

  Rod ushered her into the living room and Brie decided to launch into the reason for her visit.

  ‘I was wondering if I could ask you a question about one of your business associates.’

  Rod looked at her with interest. ‘Who?’

  ‘Robert Ryan. How long have you known him?’

  ‘I can answer that question,’ Sheena interjected. ‘Rod and Robert had the same divorce lawyer. They met over a mutual hate of their ex-wives.’

  Brie knew that Robert Ryan had been divorced for some time. After leaving Mike’s house, she had googled him and found details of his ex-wife as well as their two sons, her half-brothers. There was no mention of a current wife or partner.

  Rod chuckled. ‘Sheena is right. Robert and I were both going through marriage breakdowns when we met in a solicitor’s waiting room.’

  ‘I thought he was a lawyer?’ Brie mused.

  Rod nodded. ‘He started his career in law, but he hadn’t been working in the field for a while. What’s this about, Brie?’

  Brie sighed. She knew that if she was going to have any success with getting Robert Ryan’s contact details, she needed to come clean.

  ‘He knew my mother and I … I think he’s my father.’

  Rod Cooper conveyed his surprise by leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. Sheena conveyed hers by spraying her mouthful of water. Luckily it missed Brie. Just.

  ‘Robert has never mentioned a daughter to me,’ Rod said.

  Brie gave a nervous laugh. ‘That’s because I don’t think he knows about me.’

  ‘How sure are you about this, Brie?’

  ‘I’m fairly sure,’ she replied.

  Rod stood and left the room, returning with a piece of paper with Robert Ryan’s number on it.

  Brie folded it and slipped it into her wallet. ‘Thank you,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘I’ve known Robert for over ten years. I know him on both a professional and personal capacity and I’ll say one thing. If you are his daughter, he won’t turn his back on you.’

  Brie left the Coopers’ house mentally and physically drained. She was almost at her car when Tam’s phone call came through.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Where are you?’ Tam demanded.

  ‘I’m just leaving Josh’s dad’s place, I—’

  ‘Wait, what? What were you doing there? Never mind, you need to get in your car and get to my mum’s place, now.’ Tam was speaking at a million miles an hour and it only compounded her head noise.

  ‘My gran is here and we’ve just figured out … well, you just need to get here.’

  Brie sighed heavily. ‘Tam, I don’t think I can. I’ve had a cracker of a day. I was up late going through Rosie’s things and—’

  ‘That’s the thing, this is about Rosie.’ There was an urgency in Tam’s voice that snagged Brie’s attention.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I can’t believe we didn’t make the connection before this.’

  ‘Tam, what are you talking about? What connection?’

  ‘Brie, just get here. You’re not going to believe this.’

  Brie pressed the ‘unlock’ button of her car and let out a wry laugh. ‘Trust me, I’ve uncovered some doozies over the past twenty-four hours. Nothing would surprise me.’

  * * *

  As soon as Brie walked into the living room of Adele’s house, Tam’s grandmother took one look at her and gasped.

  ‘My Lord!’ she whispered as she clutched at her chest.

  ‘Hello, I’m Brie Hart.’ Brie proffered her hand, but the older woman pulled her in and enveloped her in a tight hug, and Brie was slightly taken aback by her overfamiliarity.

  ‘I’m sorry, Brie.’ Her voice wavered. ‘It’s just that when you walked in you looked so much like Rosaleen.’

  ‘You knew my gran?’ The reason behind Tam’s enthusiasm on the phone earlier was slowly becoming clear.

  ‘My dear child, Rosaleen Hart and I were friends from when we were six years old. I’m Sinead Kelly, but your grandmother knew me as Sinead Murphy.’

  ‘Rosaleen. I haven’t heard anyone call her that in years.’

  ‘Well, she was always Rosaleen to me.’ Sinead gave a watery smile.

  ‘What was she like?’

  Sinead took a deep breath and closed her eyes. ‘She was the kindest person I knew. And that night, when she met Tom Fuller, had I known what a mess he would make of her life, I would’ve intervened. Instead at the time, I was jealous.’

  Sinead took Brie through that night at O’Malley’s, when Rosie met the man who would ruin her life by killing their child and causing the death of Jack Reid, the man who had loved Rosie.

  ‘I only found all this out because we were living in Cooma at the time. It was big news for such a small town. I tried to find Rosaleen, but she’d already left to go back to Sydney. I probably should’ve tried to search for her, but I had small children and well, truth be told, I’d lost my nerve. So much time had passed, and it just seemed too late.’

  Brie listened intently, letting Sinead’s words sink in.

  ‘I didn’t know your mother, but I did know Rosaleen and Aoife, your great-grandmother. You come from a line of strong women, Brianna Hart.’

  * * *

  It was getting dark by the time Brie left Adele’s house, her head hurting, her body exhausted by everything that she’d uncovered. Between Mike and the Kellys, Brie felt as if she knew both her mother and Rosie more than ever. She still had questions, in particular why Rosie had left the Cross.

  Thinking about the times her gran had taken her to Mardi Gras, Rosie realised she knew the streets of the Cross as if she was a local. As she turned towards Rosie’s flat, a story from the past surfaced. A story about a young woman who had lost her mother and gone to live with her gran and who had ended up running a profitable brothel. When Rosie first had told the story, Brie had no idea what a brothel was. What struck her was how that little girl could be her.

  ‘Like me, Gran?’ Brie asked.

  ‘Yes, Mary was a little like you.’

  A few years later when Rosie had repeated the story, the question she asked her gran was:

  ‘Does that mean I’m going to grow up and run a brothel?’

  Rosie laughed out loud. ‘My dear girl, you can be anything you like. But remember, there is nothing wrong with people making money from providing a sought-out service.’

  ‘You provide a sought-out service, but you don’t run a brothel.’

  Brie slowed the car in front of the house that Rosie had taken her to and realised this was perhaps the former brothel, which was now a hipster bar. But perhaps the most startling revelation was that it was just down the road from Rosie’s flat. Did that mean that Rosie knew Mary?

  Suddenly not feeling all that tired, Brie parked the car and headed upstairs, making a beeline for her laptop.

  She typed the words Victoria Street Kings Cross Brothel Mary 1960s and hit ‘enter’.

  The first was a Sydney Morning Herald article about how Kings Cross was the epicentre of the sex trade in t
he 1960s. There were mentions of pockets of the Cross where there was a concentration of brothels, but nothing specific.

  The second and third articles were similar, but the next one snagged her interest.

  Veteran Madam Reveals Life Inside a Kings Cross Brothel.

  Eagerly, she scanned the article, only to realise the story was from the late 1980s. Thinking she may need to refine her search, she clicked on the next link, even though she didn’t think it would be what she was looking for. It was more that the article was about a photographer whose name she recognised that grabbed her attention.

  It was a story about how two well-known photographers had captured those living and working in the Cross in the 1960s. There were a number of photos from Les Girls, including Carlotta, but it was the next photo of another Les Girl with two women and a man that had her sitting up straight in her chair.

  ‘Rosie,’ she whispered as her eyes wandered to the man, and even before reading the caption she knew who he was.

  Jack Reid, her grandfather.

  The Les Girl was Floss Rogers and the other woman who looked about her grandmother’s age in the photo was listed as Mary Hawkins.

  What were the chances that this was the Mary that Rosie was talking about in her story? Were Jack and Rosie, Floss and Mary all friends?

  Brie searched for Les Girls Floss Rogers and discovered that Floss, once known as Floyd Rogers, worked at Les Girls from 1963 to 1971. Floss then moved to London before dying in 1983.

  The search for Mary pretty much cemented what Brie had suspected already. Mary Hawkins was a madam of a brothel in Victoria Street. What surprised Brie was what the brothel was called.

  Rosie’s House.

  The article went on to describe how Mary Hawkins and her neighbour Rosie Hart had worked together after the death of Mary’s grandmother and the original brothel madam, Dulcie Hawkins.

  Rosie? A brothel madam?

  Brie needed wine to deal with this and she was onto her second glass when she uncovered that Rosie was never a working girl and eventually had stepped away, and Mary had taken over the reins.

  ‘Wow. Just wow,’ she muttered, wondering not for the first time why Rosie chose to keep this all a secret.

  In the late 1970s, Mary Hawkins left Rosie’s House to study law at Sydney University, and in 1989, she started up Scarlet Alliance, the Australian Sex Workers’ Association.