Lost Without You

by Rachael Johns

  ‘Hi,’ they replied in unison as Paige took in the organised chaos around them. There were rows and rows of racks crowded with clothing, interspersed with stands stooping under the weight of hats, handbags, scarves and plastic jewellery. Along the walls at the sides and back of the store were shelves and other storage units, almost overflowing with books and board games. There seemed to be lots of mismatched kitchenware and she even noticed the odd broken birdcage among the bric-a-brac.

  Karis drifted over to one of the racks and began rifling through rows of dresses that looked like the costume wardrobe from That ’70s Show. Or at least they would do if Paige tried them on, but Karis managed to not only pull off such clothes but look like she’d just stepped off a Paris catwalk.

  ‘We’re looking for a wedding dress,’ she said now, loud enough to remind Karis they were on a mission.

  ‘Lovely!’ exclaimed Miriam, clapping her hands together. Her eyes went to the sparkling diamond on Paige’s finger. ‘We have quite a collection of bridal gowns at the moment.’

  ‘Great, but I’m not looking for any old dress,’ Paige said, a tad apologetically. ‘I’m looking for my mother’s dress.’

  ‘Oh?’

  She quickly told Miriam everything.

  The older woman pressed a hand against her heart. ‘Your poor mother. My husband had kidney disease and was on dialysis two long years. It really messes with your life.’

  ‘Is he better now?’ Paige asked hopefully. ‘Did he get a transplant?’

  ‘He did—my son gave him a kidney in the end—but sadly John had a heart attack six months later and we lost him.’

  Oh geez. Paige’s heart went out to this sweet old woman. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Thank you. It is what it is. We had thirty-six wonderful years together and for that I’ll always be grateful. Anyway, let’s see if we can find your dress.’

  ‘Karis,’ Paige hissed as Miriam turned to go.

  Bringing two summer dresses with her, Karis trailed Paige who followed after Miriam to the far back of the store where a mannequin wearing a meringue-style wedding dress stood on a blue box. Not the dress Paige was looking for but the rack on one side of the plastic woman gave her hope. It was crammed so tightly with bridal gowns that you couldn’t tell one from another.

  ‘Here, hold this.’ She thrust her bag at Karis and immediately began flicking through.

  Nope. Nope. Nope. There were gowns of every style and colour, dresses from the sixties right through to the present day, but Paige’s heart sank as she neared the end of the selection.

  Her shoulders slumped and she turned to Karis and Miriam. ‘It’s not here.’

  Her friend frowned. ‘Are you sure? You went through them pretty damn quickly.’

  ‘I think I’d recognise my mother’s dress,’ Paige snapped, fighting tears. It had been a silly fantasy to think that the dress would still be here two years on, but she hadn’t known that eighties wedding dresses were in such high demand.

  And she’d wanted it so much.

  Without a word, Karis stepped forward. As she went through the wedding gowns much more slowly, another woman joined them.

  ‘Miriam,’ said the lady with bright rainbow-streaked hair. ‘I’m taking a smoko. Can you man the shop for ten?’

  ‘Wait a second, Ramona,’ Miriam said, then looked to Paige. ‘Have you got a photo of your dress?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Show us. Ramona has been working here so long she’s practically part of the furniture and she has a memory like an elephant. If she was here when your mother’s dress was purchased, she might remember something about the person who bought it.’

  Paige was rapidly losing hope but as she dug the photo she’d taken from her parents’ wedding album out of her bag, Miriam gave Ramona the rundown on the situation.

  ‘Here it is.’ Paige practically shoved the photo at Ramona, then held her breath and tried to read the other woman’s mind as she stared at it a few long moments.

  Finally, Ramona clicked her fingers. ‘I do remember that dress. It was a stunner. I don’t love eighties fashion usually, but there was something special about this one. It reminded me of Princess Di’s classic gown. I put it up in the window and in less than an hour, it had sold.’

  Paige felt her heart rev. ‘Do you know who bought it?’

  ‘I remember it was a man. Pretty young. Tall, dark, handsome, in that clichéd movie-star kind of way.’

  ‘A man?’ Paige and Karis asked in unison.

  Ramona nodded as if this wasn’t unusual at all. ‘I’m guessing he wanted it for fancy dress. That’s what most of our wedding dresses are used for. Guys in drag, theatre productions, hens’ night costumes. That kind of thing. Most brides want a new dress, something they can call their own, or they go to a specialist second-hand bridal store where the gowns have been professionally cleaned and made to look new again. Maybe you should try one of them—you might find something similar to your mother’s.’

  But Paige didn’t hear anything past ‘Guys in drag’. She shuddered to think of some broad-shouldered sweaty man parading around in her mum’s dress for fun. Who cared if he was good-looking! He’d probably stretched, even ripped it, or spilt beer down the front. She fought the urge to burst into tears.

  ‘I don’t suppose you remember anything else about this man?’ Karis asked, wrapping her arm around Paige. ‘Do you have sales records? His name perhaps?’

  Ramona shook her head and glanced at her watch. ‘Sorry. We might have bank transactions that could give you a clue, but even if we could find something like that from over two years ago, due to privacy, I couldn’t give out any such information. Good luck anyway. I’ll be back in ten,’ she told Miriam before walking away.

  Miriam smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m really sorry, love. But I hope you find a dress you love just as much and that your mother gets well again soon.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Paige managed, still fighting tears. She felt so stupid. Sol had warned her how hard it might be to find the dress, but she’d never failed at anything in her life before.

  ‘I’m just going to buy these two,’ Karis said, bending to pick up the ugly seventies dresses she’d procured earlier.

  ‘Okay.’ Paige tried not to be annoyed that Karis would be walking out with two new outfits while she was leaving empty-handed. ‘I’ll wait in the car.’

  ‘I was thinking,’ Karis began a few minutes later as she fastened her seatbelt. ‘If a guy did buy your mum’s dress for a costume, then he probably didn’t keep it. Maybe he took it back to another shop. So why don’t we check out a few more?’

  Paige suspected Karis’s suggestion was more about her love of scouring charity shops than it was about the dress, but clutched at this new hope. ‘Okay, it’s worth a shot, I guess.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. There’s another one just around the corner, we could walk but they have good parking, so I’ll direct you.’

  True to Karis’s word, there was another op shop very close by. They left the car in the car park at the side of the row of shops and went inside. Paige’s eyes immediately found a rack of wedding dresses. But the hope that lit in her heart at the sight was short-lived. There weren’t as many as there were at the first shop and it took even less time to come to the conclusion that her mother’s dress wasn’t among them. Karis forced her to show the photo to a woman manning the desk—‘just in case’—but not only did she not remember ever seeing such a gown, she was cranky about being interrupted in the game of Candy Crush she was playing on her phone.

  ‘Never fear,’ Karis said, linking her arm through Paige’s as they retreated back onto the street. ‘We’ve barely scratched the surface of Sydney’s opportunity shops.’

  But, three hours later they’d scoured every Red Cross, Vinnies, Anglicare, Save the Children, Salvos, Goodwill and Smith Family store they could find in the inner west and Paige was ready to admit defeat. It would be impossible to visit all the op shops in New South Wales and e
ven then she might come up empty-handed.

  ‘Your mum’s not on Facebook, is she?’

  ‘No,’ Paige replied. ‘She’s always refused to sign up—says it’s a waste of time, that people don’t show their true selves anyway and if she wants to know what’s happening in a friend’s life, she’ll call them. Why?’

  A victorious smile cracked across Karis’s face. ‘I’ve had an idea.’

  When Karis just sat there grinning, Paige prompted, ‘Well, go on then, what is it?’

  ‘You put up a post with a picture of your mum’s dress. Tell everyone you’re trying to track it down and that if they know your mum to please keep it secret from her as this is going to be a surprise. Then you ask people to share it. There’s heaps of different groups and stuff that are all about helping people find lost shit, so you can post in those as well.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ The heaviness that had been dragging her down since they’d left that last shop suddenly lifted. She felt revived as if she’d downed a can of Red Bull. How many stories had she heard about friends, family, pets and all sorts of other things being reunited through social media? ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

  Paige dug her phone out of her handbag. She was a fast typist and within moments, she’d tapped out a spiel. As she posted the wedding dress photo to her timeline, she tried to keep her hope and excitement in check. Even if she did manage to find her mother’s dress, there was no knowing what kind of state it would be in after all these years, all these owners.

  Rebecca

  Rebecca’s gaze fell upon the familiar sight of their house as Hugh turned into their driveway. It felt like she’d been in hospital two long years and her hand was on the passenger door handle before he’d stopped the car.

  ‘Steady on, you don’t want to fall and end up back in hospital.’

  No way she’d let that happen. Excited barks sounded from inside as she headed towards the house, Hugh hurrying after her.

  ‘Sounds like I’m not the only one happy to have you home,’ he said as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Molly exploded from inside and jumped all over Rebecca.

  She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the pup. ‘Hello, beautiful girl. I missed you too.’

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Hugh said, stepping past them to head properly into the house.

  ‘I think I’m going to have a lie down for a bit.’ Rebecca glanced around—the house was spotless, even the pile of washing waiting to be ironed that usually lived in a basket near the TV was empty. Hugh (and perhaps Paige) had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure there was nothing she needed to do.

  ‘Good idea, I’ll bring you in a cuppa.’

  ‘Actually, do you mind giving me a few minutes privacy?’

  Hugh blinked. ‘You don’t want me to come into the bedroom with you?’

  ‘Don’t be upset. In hospital I’ve not had a moment to myself—there’s always some nurse or doctor or orderly popping their head in. I just need a little me-time.’

  ‘O-kay.’ Hugh spoke slowly as if he didn’t understand at all, but after the scare she’d given him two weeks ago, he’d be willing to grant her pretty much anything.

  ‘Thanks, hun.’ She threw him an appreciative smile and started up the stairs towards their bedroom, Molly pattering closely behind.

  Like the rest of the house, this room was immaculate and there was even a bunch of gardenias on the bedside table. She smiled as she crossed the room and then stooped to sniff them. Hugh knew they were her favourite.

  As Molly twirled three times like she always did before a snooze and then settled herself down in her favourite spot in front of the bed, Rebecca glanced at the closed door, praying Hugh would respect her request for privacy. Then, taking a deep breath, her hands shaking ridiculously, she went into their walk-in robe, stretched up high on her tippy-toes and pulled down a box she’d labelled ‘Old Music Notebooks’. Neither Hugh nor Paige shared her love of music and so they would never think to pry into this box. Besides, it wasn’t a lie—the box did contain her old journals, but, right at the bottom, it also housed a whole load of mix-tapes left over from her teenage years, letters, and something even more precious to her than them.

  She took the box over to the bed and her breath caught in her throat as she lifted the lid. What if the photo was gone? There was no reason why it should be but suddenly the fear felt real. Without care, she lifted the notebooks that were at the top and flung them on the bed beside her, then rifled through the rest of the box, resisting the urge to look at the tapes from her high school boyfriend—she should have thrown them away years ago. Finally, she found what she was looking for, the old journal filled with the angst-ridden songs she’d written as a teenager. They were all dismal—singing was her skill, not songwriting—but she’d put her heart and soul into them anyway. Ignoring the R&R Forever scratched into the front cover in her flowery adolescent handwriting, she flicked straight to the end.

  And there it was.

  There he was—tiny and perfect, a bald-headed angel looking up at her with big, blue, innocent eyes. Well, not at her, she’d never got that close to him; he’d been looking up at whoever took the photograph and she didn’t know who that was. Maybe a nurse. Certainly she couldn’t imagine her mother would have done so.

  Tears prickled Rebecca’s eyes as she touched a finger to the photo. She let out a long slow breath, one she felt like she’d been holding since she’d thought of this photo in the hospital two weeks ago. This little boy had never been far from her mind these last thirty-five years, but she’d kept him in a box and kept that box buried deep in her heart. Yet now, having come face to face with her own mortality, everything felt like it had changed. Now it was like her long-lost son was actually in that box and that he was knocking on the lid, trying to push it open and get her attention.

  Pain throbbed in her forehead and she forced deep breaths in and out, unsure whether her sudden breathlessness was because she was having a panic attack or if it was a symptom of her blasted kidney disease. Either way, this photo couldn’t stay here, in the house, where it could so easily be found by someone looking for something else. She didn’t know how she’d ever been able to sleep with it so easily accessible.

  But what could she do with it? She didn’t trust her parents not to ‘lose’ it and besides, her dad hadn’t been in the best of health lately either; she didn’t want to put anything else on them.

  Did banks still rent out safe deposit boxes? Rebecca wasn’t sure if they were actually a thing or if it was just something used in the movies. She could ask Hugh—he always knew stuff like that—but of course then he’d want to know why she needed one. Google! The answer landed in her head and she went to grab her mobile only to realise her handbag was still out in the hallway where she’d dumped it when she’d dropped down to hug Molly.

  Bugger. Why did everything have to be so hard?

  In lieu of the internet or her phone, there was only one thing for it. She blinked then wiped her eyes, grateful she hadn’t been wearing any mascara. Then, slipping the photograph back into the notebook, which thankfully was small enough to fit in her jacket pocket, she repacked the box and shoved it back on the top shelf of the wardrobe.

  Hugh was putting her suitcase outside the door when she opened it. They laughed nervously as if they were strangers colliding in the street.

  ‘That was a quick nap.’

  ‘I’ve decided I need some fresh air instead,’ Rebecca replied, already walking past him into the kitchen where they kept their car keys on a hook. She thought the location ridiculous but Hugh refused to leave them within reach of the front door, saying they’d be easy pickings for burglars there. She plucked her hatchback’s key fob off the wall and almost bumped into Hugh as she turned around.

  ‘I could get Molly’s lead and we could go for a gentle stroll.’

  ‘I told you, I want to be alone for a bit.’ She started towards the front door before he could launch into an argumen
t.

  He hurried after her like a blasted shadow. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I don’t know. Just for a drive.’

  ‘I thought you wanted fresh air.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Hugh, you’re not my father!’

  His face fell. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just … worried about you. I don’t want you to overdo it. You’ve been very ill.’

  She took a breath and softened. ‘Please, just give me ten minutes. I love you and I promise I won’t do anything silly.’

  ‘Okay, but don’t forget Paige and Sol are bringing dinner round later.’

  She squeezed his hand. ‘Promise I’ll be back well before then.’

  On the way to the bank, the photograph felt as if it were burning a hole in her pocket and her mind drifted once again to the information she’d recently discovered. In hospital, late at night with the ward so quiet she could hear machinery beeping somewhere in the distance, when she’d known she couldn’t be interrupted by Hugh or Paige or any other friends or family, she’d looked up something she’d never allowed herself to contemplate before.

  How to find an adopted child.

  It seemed fairly straightforward. There was a simple form she could fill in to apply to the Western Australia government department for identifying and non-identifying information about the child she’d given up. She could send it off and in due course she would be rewarded with the adoption information, which would include identifying details about everyone involved—her son, herself and the people who’d raised him as their own.

  Then, if she wanted, she could also be placed on the Reunion and Information Register or she could use the information she had to track him down some other way. This day and age, with Facebook—which she’d always steered clear of for exactly these reasons—and all those other online connectors, it had to be easier than ever before to find a long-lost relative.

  That thought sent a tingle down her spine. The idea of seeing her boy after all these years was almost impossible to comprehend, but her excitement was short-lived.