‘How much longer until she wakes up?’ he asked one of the nurses quietly around midnight.
He shrugged. ‘Hard to know, mate. Sometimes people take a while to wake after surgery. She’s comfortable though, I think.’
‘Thank you.’ He turned to Hope and caught her yawning. ‘Why don’t you head back to The Anchorage and get some sleep? I can call you when—’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’m not leaving. I want to be here for you.’
After what felt like a few minutes, but could have been hours, he glanced over at Hope. She had fallen asleep in the chair, her head leaning back against the window. He found a spare pillow and gently lifted her head and put the pillow under it. She didn’t stir. He found a blanket and placed it over her.
He heard a shuffling sound behind him and glanced back at Monika. Her eyes were open.
‘Hi,’ she croaked. She ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘Water...please.’
He wasn’t sure if she was allowed to drink but the nurse had left a jug and a plastic glass on the bedside table. He filled the glass with water, put a straw in it and held it to Monika’s lips. She drank the entire glass and exhaled softly when she was finished.
‘Thank you.’
‘Are you in pain?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
Heavy silence filled the room and he shifted in his seat. He had no idea what to say.
‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ she asked finally.
‘Yeah.’ What was the point in lying?
She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and at him. ‘I’m sorry.’
For what? Sorry for leaving me? For having cancer. For coming back into my life.
He stayed silent.
‘I’d like to tell you my story,’ she said softly. She hesitated, searching his face. ‘May I?’
He nodded.
‘You might not believe it, and you might not understand why I didn’t come looking for you any sooner, but it was for the best.’
He raised his brows.
‘I arrived in Australia from Hungary when I was seventeen, hoping to start a career as a beauty therapist. Instead I was trafficked into a world of prostitution and sexual slavery, forced to take drugs, and surrounded by relentless sexual and physical violence and abuse.’
It felt like she was telling someone else’s story because of the neutrality in her voice. Her eyes were glassy and as she spoke, she looked through him as if looking through a pane of frosted glass. It was the oddest sensation. He’d imagined she’d had a hard life just from looking at her, but nothing could have prepared him for this.
No wonder her demeanour was so flat. He’d thought it was because she’d just had surgery and was doped to the eyeballs with analgesia, but he could see she’d put a veil over her eyes and set her face to avoid showing too much emotion.
‘I spent my first six years in Australia in brothels, on the streets and in dingy hotel rooms before I finally made my escape.’
He barely trusted himself to speak. Swallowing twice, he cleared his throat and still his voice sounded raspy. ‘What happened after that?’
‘I had nowhere to go, no one I thought I could turn to. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until the night I gave birth.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the hospital? The police? They would have helped you.’
‘I didn’t trust anyone. I had no identification. Nothing. I was living in a room in a house in Essendon with some squatters. I lived moment by moment with handouts and free meals whenever I could get them. When the pains got so bad, I went to the hospital, but I was too scared to ask for help so I went to the bathroom and they found me there after it was all over.’ She gave a weak smile. ‘You were so tiny. Less than five pounds. But you had a set of lungs on you and I knew you’d be okay.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I lied. I told them your father was away working and I had no way of contacting him.’
‘And what? They believed you? Sent you home?’
‘I didn’t want them to take you away.’
‘Why didn’t you tell them about the abuse? Tell them you had nowhere to live?’
‘It was a long time ago and back then they would have asked too many questions and taken you from me.’
He shook his head. Unbelievable. He had so many more questions. ‘Who was my father?’
‘I don’t know.’
He felt sick. He could have the DNA of a drug dealer or a paedophile or a murderer. He sat back as wave after wave of emotions buffeted him.
‘I named you Mitchell because it means “who is like God” or “big”. I never wanted you to feel small. Ever.’
‘What about my surname? You didn’t call me Horvath.’
It felt like his entire life and his entire identity had been faked.
‘The lovely doctor who looked after me was called Anna Davis. She was so kind. She didn’t ask me any questions.’
‘So, you created my entire identity and pretended to be something you weren’t.’
‘I didn’t know what else to do. You cannot understand. My own identity was robbed. Unless you have been in my position, you cannot understand,’ she repeated. ‘Afterwards, I took you back to the squat and they encouraged me to go to a place called One Horizon. It was a shelter for homeless women run by a church. I lived there for two years but I never told anyone what had happened to me. I was so scared. Every time I saw someone who reminded me of the men who trafficked me, I thought they would take me back.
‘What about your parents? Your family?’
‘I did not have a happy childhood which is why I came to Australia. My parents were divorced, and my mother had problems with alcohol. My childhood in Hungary was chaotic and my father, before he left, was abusive.’
‘Did you have any sisters? Brothers? Grandparents?’ Mitchell found himself desperate to know whether he had other family members.
‘There was only me.’
There were still so many gaps in her story, and he needed more answers. ‘What happened after you left the Horizon house place?’
‘I only knew one way to make money.’ She dipped her head. ‘It was all I could do to afford the rent and to put food on the table. I was putting money aside, saving it so you and I could move somewhere to the country and start again.’
‘And then? What happened then?’
A tear fell. ‘They found me.’
He frowned. ‘Who?’
‘The men who brought me to Australia. They still had my passport. They told me I owed them a lot of money for bringing me to Australia. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared they would hurt you, so I agreed to go with them. Every night I would put you to sleep and pray you did not wake up. They would drive me to the casino and dress me up in nice clothes—like I was a princess. We never went in the front door. I was taken to a hotel room and I had to stay there all night. They would drive me back home before the sun was up.’ A tear slipped down her cheek. ‘One day, they did not take me home. I begged and begged, but they beat me and drugged me. It was four days later before they dumped me back at our house. You were gone.’
*
On Friday morning, three days later, Monika was well enough to leave hospital. She barely spoke until he pulled up in front of his house and turned off the engine.
Gazing out through the front windscreen, her eyes bulged. ‘Is this all yours?’
He nodded.
‘It’s beautiful. Stunning.’
‘Thank you.’ He unclicked his seatbelt. ‘I hope you’ll be comfortable here.’
‘I know I will,’ she murmured.
Without asking her what she wanted, he’d made the decision to bring her home to his house. No one talked about Monika’s impending death, but it hung over them all like a dark cloud covering the sun.
A nurse from the community palliative care team had already been arranged, and he expected her at any moment. She’d planned her first visit to coincide with the day Monika
came home. He would leave it to the nurse to make all the necessary arrangements.
As always, Beth had been amazing. As soon as he told her everything, she’d opened her heart to the other woman and had done everything to ensure her stay at Mitchell’s would be as comfortable as possible. He was in awe of her. She seemed to bear no ill-will towards his birth mother. If anything, she was demonstrating incredible grace and love—a love he didn’t yet feel for this woman. His mother.
On the morning after Monika’s surgery, only hours after she’d shared her heartbreaking story with him and just as the sun was coming up, he and Hope left the hospital and went back to the farm. Unable to sleep, even though he was bone tired, he’d lit the fire and they’d sat on the couch, holding hands while he told Hope everything Monika had told him. After he’d exhausted all his words, they’d sat staring at the flames until fatigue finally descended, heavy as a lead blanket, and he’d fallen asleep with his head in Hope’s lap, and the feel of her fingers gently massaging his head.
He’d woken hours later. The fire was out, and Hope was sound asleep in his bed. He’d joined her and fallen asleep again, this time with her in his arms.
Mitchell helped Monika from the car and took her arm and walked beside her as she shuffled slowly up the path and across the decking to the front door. The dogs, sensing something was wrong, stayed back.
Once inside he settled her into a chair in the lounge room that overlooked the water. She sat and gazed out the window while he put her bag away. She didn’t have many belongings.
Moments later the dogs barked, signalling someone was arriving. He went outside and greeted the palliative care nurse. After showing her inside, he left her to take Monika into the bedroom he’d set up for her stay.
While they were in the other room, Mitch took Monika’s recently vacated seat. The sun streamed through the windows, and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky to cast shadows over the green landscape. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept properly.
He heard Beth in the kitchen, humming as she baked. She’d shown up early that morning before he left to go the hospital to bring Monika home, and had been a whirlwind since. Right now, she was whipping cream for scones he had no intention of eating and doubted Monika would want.
‘Want a cuppa, darling?’ she called out from the kitchen.
‘I can make it,’ he said, getting out of the chair, but she’d already grabbed two cups and put the kettle on. ‘Where’s Hope?’ He’d expected her to be at home.
‘She said something about going to see Jordan about something. She didn’t think she’d be long.’
‘Oh.’
‘Why don’t you go out and get some fresh air,’ she suggested. ‘The dogs could do with a play. I’ve ignored them all day and they’re sulking. Go and throw a tennis ball around or something. I don’t like it when you sulk.’
He wanted to deny he was sulking, but it was true. He was in a total funk. He glanced at the closed bedroom door. ‘I thought I should stay in case the nurse needs to tell me anything.’
‘I’m here. If she wants you, I’ll call you.’ She gave him a gentle nudge. ‘Go on, go outside. Take the dogs and go for a walk or something. Moping around won’t do anyone any good.’
Beth was right. Since finding Monika at the motel and taking her to hospital, other than sleeping and showering and making sure the animals were fed, he’d barely functioned. He was still trying to process the enormity of having Monika in his life.
Hope had been amazing too. He desperately wanted to talk to her about their future, but the timing wasn’t right yet.
He went outside and stood on the deck. The dogs circled around him, waiting to see if he’d play. Raf dropped a ball at his feet and he threw it and smiled as the dogs tore off after it. In the distance a magpie carolled in a gumtree and further away, waves crashed on the rocks.
It was funny. His mother was going to die, but life would still go on.
The sliding door opened, and Beth slipped out. ‘Here you go.’ She handed him a cup of steaming tea. In her other hand was a plate of scones, covered in jam and cream. ‘Eat up. They’re still warm.’ He suddenly felt ravenous and he bit into the scone, savouring the taste.
Beth sat on one of the deck chairs and looked up at him.
‘How are you doing?’ she asked when he’d finished two scones and was reaching for a third.
He didn’t reply for a while. He finished his scone and sipped his tea while fighting the ache in his throat and the pressure-cooker-like tightening in his lungs. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Resting his mug on the deck railing, he sank into the chair next to Beth and, like a dam bursting its banks for the first time, he sobbed.
‘All those years I blamed her for leaving me,’ he choked out eventually as he wiped at his tears. ‘And it wasn’t even her fault.’
Beth ran soothing circles across his back with the palm of her hand, comforting him the way she had for so many years. ‘There was nothing you could do, darling.’
‘She told me she never stopped hoping to see me again, but she had no way of finding me.’
‘It’s a tragic story,’ Beth said.
‘I wish I’d known.’
‘Would it have made things different for you?’ Beth asked gently.
He sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know.’
Beth pulled a freshly ironed hankie from the pocket of her apron and passed it to him. ‘It’s clean.’
He blew his nose. ‘All my life I’ve blamed her for walking out on me and blamed her for my crappy childhood and yet what she experienced was worse than anything I can imagine.’
The story had gone from bad to worse.
When Monika was considered too old for use, her traffickers let her go, but by then, she was addicted to drugs and alcohol and spent the next fifteen years in and out of jail, relying on petty crime to make ends meet.
She’d been clean for eighteen months when her counsellor suggested she start to search for him. It had taken her that long to convince the authorities of who she was before they’d release any information about Mitchell’s identity and whereabouts.
‘Well she’s here now and I suggest you use every moment to make it up to her. She gave birth to you, darling, and she loved you first. You must believe that and remember that.’
The dogs started barking and tore off around the front of the house to investigate but they stopped quickly which meant it was probably Hope.
Beth stood. ‘I’ll go see who it is.’
‘It’s okay. It’ll be Hope.’
Beth smiled. ‘She’s a good woman, that one.’ She picked up the plate with the remaining scones and his half-drunk mug of tea. ‘Don’t let her go this time.’ Opening the sliding door, she stepped inside.
‘Beth.’
She stopped and turned. ‘Yes?’
‘I love you.’
Her mouth opened but no words escaped.
He stood and went to her, taking her hands in his. ‘Monika may be my mother, but you’ll always be my mum. You know that, right?’
A tear trickled from the corner of each eye. ‘Thank you, Mitchell.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve never told you how much I love you and how grateful I am for everything you and Bill did for me.’
She ran a weathered hand down his cheek. ‘You don’t have to tell me, darling. I’ve always known.’
Chapter 30
On Saturday morning, two days after they’d settled Monika into the spare bedroom at Mitchell’s house, Hope and Mitch headed to the local showgrounds. Hope was buzzing. It felt so good to be home.
Home.
The word had been testing itself out on her ever since she got back to Macarthur Point. With each passing hour her life in Melbourne slipped further and further away and she’d woken that morning realising she hadn’t missed the city once.
She hadn’t told Mitchell yet, but Jordan had spoken with her about the idea of a pilot program—a satellite clini
c run by RCH at the local hospital. It had sounded so appealing she’d contacted her boss immediately, and Sean promised to do some homework to see if it was feasible. But even if the job didn’t work out, she’d made her decision. She was staying.
A few times during the drive Hope glanced across at Mitchell and wondered whether he had read her mind. He’d worn a grin since she got back.
After finding a park, Mitchell took her hand and they walked up the street to the showgrounds. The air around them was thick with the smells of popcorn and wood fires and food, mixed with fresh cut grass and farm animals. Children dashed around, darting in and out of the legs of the adults, racing each other to the rides. A Ferris wheel rose above the sheds and two other rides spun people, trapped in tiny cages, in the air. Squeals and screams filled the air.
They weaved between groups of people and past lines of kids waiting for rides, walking past arts and crafts displays. All around them people were stuffing their faces with food. Hope’s head swivelled left to right faster than the open-mouthed clowns in the sideshow alley.
Mitchell laughed at her expression. ‘Is this your first show?’
She nodded. ‘I hadn’t expected it to be so busy.’
‘It’s one of the highlights of the country calendar.’
‘Where has everyone come from?’ Her eyes flicked across the showgrounds again. In the centre, a large fenced-in arena was surrounded by brightly coloured marquees and tin roofed sheds. There were people everywhere. Farmers, young and old, male and female, dressed alike in their uniform of RM Williams boots and Akubra hats alongside city folk—mums and dads and their kids, some of whom had probably never come this close to a farm animal in their life, or if they had, the only time they did was at the annual show.
‘Wouldn’t be surprised if everyone from Macarthur Point was here at some time during the day and people come from hours away.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought shows like this still existed. I remember Mum and Dad talking about going to the show every year and show bags and fireworks, but I thought they would have died out.’
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