After some discussion, it was agreed they did not want to leave the peaceful surrounds of the house but did want pies and beer for lunch. Further discussion and then a game of rock paper scissors resulted in John being deputised to go get it.
He left, grumbling, and was back just moments later.
‘We will listen to no further arguments,’ Gwen said. ‘It was a fair game and you lost.’
‘It’s not that,’ John said. ‘Cecily, I’m sorry my darling girl, but you’ve been discovered.’
‘What?’ Cecily sat up and Alec felt the loss of her warmth along his side.
‘There’s media. Outside the front gate. Well, a man with a huge camera around his neck, but he asked me if you were there and why else would a man with a camera be asking for you if he wasn’t media?’
‘Oh, god.’ Cecily grabbed Alec’s hands. ‘I’m not ready.’
He kissed her. ‘My fight.’ He got up and went outside.
A middle-aged man with a digital camera hanging from his neck stood at the gate. He smiled when Alec came out. ‘G’day, mate. I’m wanting to speak with Cecily Carter?’
Alec made a quick decision about this. ‘She’s not available. What is this regarding?’
‘The PM’s long-lost daughter is in Tybrim. This is a story, mate.’
‘When do you go to print?’
‘Sunday night, for publication Monday morning.’
‘So, if you came back Sunday morning, there’s still time to do the story?’
‘I’d rather do it now, mate. We need to make sure the photos work out for the front page.’
Oh, lovely. ‘I want to do you a deal. Cecily isn’t feeling well today—she’s got a terrible cold. Any photo you get is going to be terrible. So, come back on Sunday, and you can talk to her and photograph her then.’
The man frowned. ‘It would be better to photograph her now.’
‘With snot running out her nose and coughing all the time? No, my media friend, that won’t work for your front cover at all. But I’m sure by Sunday morning, once she’s rested, she’ll be a much prettier picture for you. And I tell you what—do this, and make sure no other media find out she’s here, and your chat on Sunday will be an exclusive.’
‘Believe you me, no one is going to know she’s here until I’ve gone to print so I get it first,’ the man said. ‘You promise you won’t skip town in the meantime?’
‘Promise. She’ll be too sick to travel until Sunday. Keep her safe and you’ll get your exclusive.’
‘And how can I trust you?’
‘Got some paper?’
The man whipped out his notebook and Alec wrote on it. ‘There, that’s my name, my mobile number, and that’s the mobile number of the Prime Minister’s media team. You can contact them to corroborate who I am and that I am trustworthy.’
‘I’ll do that,’ the man said. ‘I’ll stay out here and I won’t leave until I do.’
‘Good,’ Alec said.
He went back inside and joined the others. ‘All right. He’s agreed to keep all other media at bay in return for an exclusive on Sunday morning.’
Cecily frowned. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be ready to talk then.’
‘You will,’ Alec said. ‘I’ll be with you and it’s just one journalist, doing an interview and taking some pictures, so it will be good practice for the media gallery. Except you aren’t talking to him right now because you have a horrible cold. All snotty and gross and that. So you can stay in the house and not be seen. Even at the wedding. Sorry, Gwen.’
‘If it saves Cecily some stress, that’s fine,’ Gwen said. ‘You’re here to keep her company, so she won’t be alone. You are still coming.’ She pointed at John.
‘Damn. Don’t suppose I can get a cold too?’ John said.
‘No, you can’t.’ The phone in Alec’s pocket buzzed. ‘Just a second.’ He answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello. Hayden Ballymore from the Tybrim Times. We spoke at the gate. The PM’s team confirmed who you are and that you are with Cecily. I’ll be back here at nine Sunday morning for the interview.’
‘Perfect.’ Alec hung up. ‘There, safe for the next couple of days.’
‘Thank you. My knight in shining armour.’ Cecily kissed Alec.
‘Now, John, go fetch us lunch.’
***
John returned half an hour later with the pies and beer. As they sat around the table and ate, he said, ‘I’ve had an idea for what to do next.’
‘Oh yes, he was inspired earlier,’ Gwen said.
‘We aren’t interested in hearing about your sex life,’ Alec said. Gwen hit his arm. ‘Go on, John.’
‘We set up a foundation aimed at promoting the problems of postnatal depression and what’s involved with diagnosing and treating it and supporting women who suffer from it,’ John said. ‘Alec, you and I have the contacts on both sides of politics to make it happen. We both can fundraise as well. Gwen, you are the organiser to end all organisers and can keep it all together and on track. Cecily, you can be our patron and use your family connections to get us noticed.’
Cecily wrinkled her nose. ‘Can I start using family connections when I’m not even sure I really want a family?’
‘Of course,’ John said. ‘There’s no escaping the fact you are the PM’s daughter, even if you decide not to pursue a relationship with the Baileys. People are going to want to use you to try to get close to the PM, so why not use that interest for good? And this is a cause that no doubt your parents will be behind. It might also be a good way for the three of you to get to know each other and forge a relationship.’
‘Dammit,’ Alec said and raised his beer. ‘Fucking brilliant. Can’t believe you thought of it, not me.’
John grinned. ‘I was going to beat you one day.’
‘I love it.’ Gwen clapped her hands. ‘But I’m not going to quit my job to join you until the foundation is in a position to support us all.’
John frowned. ‘We need you to make it work, Gwen. You’re good at all the stuff Alec and I suck at.’
‘I will work on it, just evenings and weekends,’ Gwen said. ‘If you’re not going to go back to paid employment, someone has to support the two of us.’
‘So, Gwen’s in. What about you two?’
Alec looked at Cecily, who smiled. ‘If it keeps you two busy and out of mischief, I’m all for it.’
‘I love the idea,’ Alec said. ‘In fact, I already have some ideas for fundraising. We could have a dinner where both Cecily and Lois speak about the impact of PND on their lives.’
Cecily shook her head. ‘Not ready.’
Alec took her hand and stroked it. ‘Long time away, sweetie. And only if you want to. Otherwise, I’ll find another foundling. There’s got to be others out there.’
‘Selling their story to the magazines,’ John said.
‘Again, not ready.’ Cecily’s voice rose a little in pitch.
‘Down the track,’ Alec said. Cecily’s hand trembled within his. ‘Let’s get into those sorts of details later.’
‘Right,’ John said. ‘Then let’s raise a glass to the …’ He frowned. ‘Name of the foundation?’
‘Lost Time Foundation,’ Alec said.
‘Lost Time Foundation. Perfect.’ John lifted his beer. ‘To the Lost Time Foundation.’
‘The Lost Time Foundation,’ they all parroted and clinked their beers.
Ernestine
Cecily paced up and down the office, mentally rehearsing the lines of her speech. She had cards to read from but she wanted this to be more natural, to appear as if she was speaking to people rather than just reading.
‘Do you want a drink?’ John held out a glass of whiskey. Cecily waved it away.
‘Not nervous,’ she said, although she was. ‘Just want to be sure I get it right. And alcohol won’t help with that at all.’
‘Fine,’ John said and downed the drink.
‘I wish you’d sit down, Cecily, and take a breath,’ Gwen sa
id.
‘Let Cecily do what she needs to do,’ Alec said and Cecily gave him a smile of thanks.
A door opened and Lois and Michael entered. Cecily hadn’t managed to bring herself to call them Mum or Dad yet, and doubted she ever would.
Lois smiled. ‘Your father paces to practice his speeches too.’
Cecily stopped and looked at her father and her father looked back at her. ‘I guess genetics will out,’ she said.
‘You are going to be magnificent. Both of you.’ Michael smiled first at Cecily, then at Lois.
‘Of course we are,’ Lois said. ‘Cecily and I are never anything but magnificent.’
Cecily had to agree with that. Preparing for tonight had meant she had spent time with her mother, getting to know her. Lois really was a magnificent person and Cecily was glad she was her mother.
‘Unfortunately, it is now time to go and circulate,’ Lois said.
‘Hate this part,’ Michael muttered and Lois patted his hand.
There was so much Cecily was learning about her parents, not least of which was realising how much her father’s political success had been a team effort. He really didn’t do small talk very well, was much more at ease with deep policy discussions. Lois, however, loved meeting people, old and new, and so with her by his side the PM had negotiated the years of social gatherings necessary to making a political career.
Cecily had come to find Alec was similarly well suited to her. Not that she hated making small talk, but she was not used to being the centre of attention. Indeed, she’d learnt in her childhood to be as small and quiet as possible, to not draw attention. Alec however was a natural with meeting people, putting them at ease. A smile, some witty banter and they became instant converts to the cult of Alec Moncrieff. He then was able to make Cecily feel comfortable so she joined in. Together, they were a socialising machine.
They made their way from the Prime Minister’s offices, through Parliament House to the marble lobby, where the attendees of tonight’s function were enjoying drinks and hors d’oeuvres before they went in for dinner.
It was packed—everyone had wanted to be present at the first joint speech by the Prime Minister’s wife and her re-discovered daughter. They were all expecting something special and considering the money they’d paid to be there—money that was going to the Lost Time Foundation—Cecily was determined they would get their money’s worth.
They all circulated. Everyone wanted to be the first to hear what Cecily was going to say. Alec would come up with a joke answer, everyone would laugh and then Cecily would kindly say she couldn’t tell them, and move the discussion to the foundation. In the six months since it had been set up, the Foundation had raised enough money to already be well at work in establishing a program to assist new mothers, with trials taking place in the Centenary Hospital for Women and Children in Canberra. The progress of the legislation in Parliament had stalled, no thanks to Leon de Belle ensuring Alec’s legacy was as small as possible. Tonight, Cecily intended on pointing out the opposition’s recalcitrance and making them a public embarrassment over not supporting the legislation.
Then it was time to go into the Great Hall and find their seats. Having attended a few dinners over her time working in Parliament House, Cecily found it strange to be taking her seat on Table One, right in front of the stage. She looked at the lectern, looming over them and her stomach began to roil.
‘I can’t eat,’ she whispered.
Alec put his hand on hers and kissed her cheek. ‘Try a little. It will help. And some water.’
Cecily drank the water but couldn’t bring herself to put any food in her mouth. She could feel the stage right behind her, and the expectations of the crowd building, sucking the air out of the room.
Alec leant close and whispered in her ear, ‘How about I crawl under the table and lick your pussy? That will relax you.’
Cecily let out a sharp bark of a laugh and with it, most of the tension. ‘Don’t dream of that,’ she hissed. ‘Except tonight, in bed, you go to town.’
‘Get through your speech and I’ll make you come so many times you won’t be able to stand.’
Well, with a reward like that on offer, she had no choice but to succeed.
Michael introduced them. ‘A little over six months ago, my wife stood on this stage and bravely told the world about the depths of her problem with postnatal depression that ultimately led to her abandoning our little girl. As we all now know, that speech helped us find our daughter, Cecily. Tonight, my wife and my daughter are going to speak to you about the impact postnatal depression has had on their lives and the importance of supporting women who have suffered the disease. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce for the first time, my daughter, Cecily Carter.’
Drawing in a deep breath, Cecily took to the stage. She kissed her father’s cheek. When he was seated, she began.
‘Thank you all for being here tonight, and for supporting the Lost Time Foundation. It is called lost time because that is what happens with postnatal depression. Mothers lose time with their children. Children lose time with their mothers. Sometimes it is days. Sometimes weeks, or months. In my case, it was twenty-seven years. That time is time that cannot be gained back, so the shorter we can make it, the better it is for mother and child.
‘I first found out I wasn’t like other children when I was three years old. I was being cared for by my second foster mother. She had other children and one of them called her Mum, so I thought I should to. But she told me no. ‘You don’t have a mum,’ she said. ‘You can’t use that word.’ As the years passed, it seemed strange to me. Other kids had a mum, why didn’t I? I was six when it was explained to me that my mum couldn’t look after me, so she gave me to the government. I asked if that made the government my mum and was told no, but it made sense to me. Maybe that’s where my interest in politics comes from—I literally thought I was the child of the government.’
Laughter. A good sign. ‘Later, more and more information was given to me until I came to know the truth—I was found by a railway worker in a shopping bag in the cloak room of Central Railway Station. My parents had left me there and no one knew who they were or indeed anything else about me.’
Cecily didn’t look at the table. She knew Lois would be crying. She always did when this was brought up. Cecily hoped one day her mother would forgive herself. This speech would help.
‘Now I know a lot of things about me. I was born on September 25. My birth name is Ernestine Maree Bailey. I have a mother and a father who do love me, have always loved me. I have two brothers. If I’d stayed with them, I would have been brought up in Sydney’s southern suburbs. I would have gone to private schools. I would have had a secure life. I would have had friends. I would have been safe.
‘The life that I should have had, the family we all should have been, was taken from us by a horrible disease. It sneaks up on you, takes control of your mind and shuts down everything. It makes you believe the most horrible things, about yourself and your baby. My mother struggled valiantly against that disease. Her trip into the city that day was an attempt to fight it. But without the right support, diagnosis and treatment, postnatal depression is a disease you cannot beat. In the end, the disease beat her and she did something that many people have not forgiven her for.
‘I am not one of those people. I’ve been told I have every right to be angry, to hate her, to want to never have anything to do with her. But that disease has already robbed me of twenty-seven years with my family. I refuse to lose any more time to postnatal depression.
‘I don’t want any other woman to lose any time to it either. I don’t want any other children to lose time to it. Not when it is a disease that can be treated, and the impact of it nullified. It is a disease that can be beaten, but not alone. So that is why I am proud, along with my mother, to be a patron of the Lost Time Foundation. It is why I am supporting this cause. It is why I thank the Government and cross benches for their s
upport and why I beg the opposition to stop opposing the legislation. You can ensure that no other woman suffers like my mother suffered. You can help keep a child like me in their safe, loving family environment. So please, let us put politics aside and join together to ensure health, safety and love for everyone.’
The applause as she stepped off the stage was immense. The first hug was from her father, going up to introduce her mother. ‘I am so proud that you are my daughter,’ Michael Bailey said in her ear.
Next was from Lois, who was of course crying. ‘I am so sorry that I robbed you of that time,’ she sobbed.
‘It wasn’t you. It was the PND.’ Cecily kissed her.
Finally, Alec was kissing her. ‘You done good.’
‘Multiple orgasm good?’
‘Absolutely.’
John and Gwen gave her thumbs up from the other side of the table. Alec passed her a glass of red wine and Cecily drained it.
Later, a young woman came up to Cecily.
‘I’m not sure what to call you,’ she said. ‘Cecily or Ernestine.’
‘Either,’ Cecily said. ‘I’m proud to bear both names. They both say something about me.’
‘Well, my name is Pamela, but I hope one day to have another name as well.’
Cecily looked at her closely. ‘You’re a foundling.’
Pamela nodded. ‘All my life, I’ve hated my mother and have made no attempt to find her, because I couldn’t understand how she could leave me. Are you honestly not mad at your mother?’
‘At my mother, no. I’m a little mad at my father for not realising how sick she was. I’m really mad at the medical system that let her down.’
‘I’m not sure I could ever forgive my mother,’ Pamela said.
Cecily took her hand. ‘If I were you, I’d try to do it. So it’s no longer torturing you, not for her sake. Then if you do ever find her—and it can happen in the strangest of circumstances, without you being prepared—at least you won’t have that darkness wearing you down and you can decide what is best for you.’
The Importance of Ernestine Page 29
