Authors: Joanna Rees
He explained that he’d been hosting a dinner for the various heads of their media interests. It annoyed her that she’d not even been informed, but she decided to bite her tongue. He
wouldn’t be calling just to inform her of that.
‘We’ve had approaches again,’ he said, finally cutting to the chase. ‘From Russia, as well as America this time.’
First Thea Maddox, and now this.
Alfie was scuffing a stone on the pavement. It flicked up and hit a parked car. ‘Don’t,’ she mouthed to him.
‘Do you want me to email the details?’ Franco asked.
‘No. I’m not interested. Don’t tell Roberto. You know how worked up he gets about these things.’
‘Romy, you’re the one who has to look to the future of Scolari. At least consider a merger—’
How dare he. Looking out for the future of Scolari was
exactly
what she did. Every hour of every day. A merger was out of the question. Scolari would go intact, just as it was now, to
Alfie. That was Roberto’s heart’s desire, and Romy was damned sure she was going to deliver on it. ‘The answer is no.’
‘Do you have to talk on the phone the whole time?’ Alfie asked. He scowled petulantly at her as she made her excuses and rang off. She wondered whether he ever thought about how much
she had to juggle even to pick him up from school at all.
The sensible thing would be to do as Roberto and Maria had suggested and send him to a good private boarding school. But sending him away wasn’t a sacrifice Romy was willing to make. He
was still all that was left of Alfonso. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him too.
Romy shut her phone. ‘You’re right,’ she said, crouching down to his level. ‘I’m sorry, darling. It’s just that I have lots of people waiting for me to make
important decisions. But you know what? They can wait. Why don’t we go to the cinema? Just you and me.’ She knew the new Harry Potter film he’d wanted to see –
The Order
of the Phoenix
– was showing at cinemas.
‘Right now?’ Alfie’s face broke into a grin.
‘Right now.’
‘Is it a premiere?’ he asked as she ushered him into the car, but Romy saw in his swagger that he already expected it was. That he’d be once more on the red carpet, as he had
been a few times in recent months. That he would stroll in and be the centre of attention.
Alfie had already changed so much, she thought, her conscience pricked. She remembered how he used to be. How just going out on his scooter used to make him happy. But now he was getting used to
this privileged life.
Maybe I should get involved in the children’s charity
, she thought, as the chauffeur opened the door for them and they climbed into the back of the bulletproof limousine.
Maybe
it would do Alfie good to realize how little others had.
Or perhaps this is just how it was – how life always
would
be for her son. After all, both he and she were Scolaris now. And there was no going back.
November 2007
Thea put on her sunglasses and took a sip of icy water. The late-afternoon sun was beating down. Maybe she should have chosen a table in the shade, she thought, but she’d
wanted to be as conspicuous as possible. Besides, she told herself, she shouldn’t grumble. After the howling, icy winter days in Manhattan, which she’d temporarily escaped, anywhere
warm like this wasn’t so bad. Particularly when the view was this fine.
Her gaze moved slowly east from the fixed billowing sails of the Sydney Opera House towards the Harbour Bridge and the myriad of boats criss-crossing the wide blue bay, thinking how illicit it
all felt – and, yes, she admitted, almost enjoyable because of that – to be away, even for just a few days, from the office.
She checked her phone and then put it back in her soft leather tote bag, chastising herself. She had an intermittent signal, but Michael still hadn’t replied to her text. But then, it
occurred to her, he might actually be fast asleep back home in the States. Even so, she couldn’t help wondering what he’d think when he did read her message. Would he be proud of her
for taking the plunge and coming to Australia?
Stop it
, she told herself. Why was she seeking Michael’s approval – or even such regular contact with him – when she knew there was no hope of anything more than a
limited friendship ever developing between them? He’d said as much himself a few email exchanges ago: that he doubted he could
ever
be in a profound relationship again.
Damaged goods
. That’s how he’d described himself.
But not to me
, Thea had wanted to reply.
But she knew it wasn’t only Michael’s lack of faith in his own emotional ability that was keeping them apart. It was her own fear of the barbed tangle of emotions that she’d
swallowed deep down inside herself. Because what was the point of even dreaming about one day perhaps being closer to Michael if she could never tell him the truth about herself?
The more he’d told her that he was proud of her and amazed by her success, the more of a fraud she’d felt. He might think he was weak in comparison, but he wasn’t. He was
brave. He was strong. He’d faced his demons and found a way to talk about them. When she’d never done anything of the sort.
Even here in the bright sunshine, the thought of it – what Michael would say, what he’d
think
about her, if she ever opened up to him – sent a wave of shivers crawling
down her spine.
And yet despite herself, as she took another drink of water and checked her watch and the faces of the people passing by, she couldn’t help wondering about Michael. And thinking too that
their last meeting, a month ago now, had put a different perspective on their burgeoning relationship. It had left her feeling full of – there was indeed no other word for it –
hope
.
When Michael had called her to say he was back in the States and going to visit his mother, Thea had suggested straight away that she go and spend the day with him at the
Brightside Home. Michael had agreed. After all, it had been something they’d touched on during her visit to Landstuhl. Thea had cancelled everything to be there.
She drove way too fast from the airport in her hire car, only slowing as the vehicle’s tyres crunched over the last few yards of the rest-home’s gravel drive. It was only now that
she was here that she realized why Brightside was costing her so much money. The main house, an old sawmill owner’s mansion, was an attractive stone building surrounded by dark yew trees.
Manicured gardens stretched down towards a glittering lake.
Thea’s heart swelled to see that Mrs Pryor was ending her days in such a lovely place. She’d forgotten too how much she loved being in this part of the world. The fresh air and clear
blue sky smelt of home. But any joy Thea felt was soon eclipsed by sadness as she remembered how ill the old lady was. Even so, Thea knew Michael must surely approve.
She checked her face in the driver’s mirror one more time, feeling her heart thumping. She’d changed five times before she’d come, finally opting for a dressed-down look, with
jeans and cowboy boots. She applied a slick of lip-gloss, then grabbed her bag and stepped out on the pathway.
‘Thea!’ She heard Michael’s voice before she saw him.
He was waving at her from the porch at the front of the house and started down the steps to meet her. As Thea approached, she could hardly believe that he was the same man she’d seen at
Landstuhl. He’d grown his hair and looked fit and lean in a pair of well-cut designer jeans and a soft blue cashmere jumper. He was tanned and clean-shaven and was no longer trying to hide
his scar. But even that no longer seemed nearly so inflamed and had somehow grown to suit him.
He walked quickly towards Thea, smiling, and wrapped her in a tight embrace. When he pulled back, the way his eyes connected with hers made her heart thump hard.
‘Hey, look at you,’ she said.
He grinned at her. ‘It’s so good to see you, at last. You know . . . properly. Not in a hospital.’ He smiled again, clearly remembering where he was. ‘Just outside one
instead.’
When their eyes locked again, she realized how long she’d been looking forward to that, to just looking at his face. It was Michael who broke the moment. She saw a blush in his cheeks.
‘Mom’s inside,’ he said, grimacing a little. ‘She’s . . . er . . . well, come on, you can see for yourself.’
He led Thea inside and she followed him down a long corridor and into a private set of rooms. Across a sweep of clean pink carpet Mrs Pryor was sitting in a chair with a crocheted blanket over
her knees. She was looking out at the garden at an empty stone birdbath.
She had become like a tracing of her former self, Thea thought, as she approached, shocked by how much the old housekeeper had aged. Thea’s heart ached with chagrin when she thought of
what Michael had told her: that Caroline Pryor had written to her every week, and Thea had never replied. Now a thousand memories assaulted her. Of Mrs Pryor brushing her hair before bed; of the
fat birthday cakes she’d iced; of hemming her party dress, and teaching her to knit . . .
‘You have a visitor, Mom,’ Michael said. ‘It’s Thea. Thea Maddox. She’s come all this way to say hello.’
Mrs Pryor slowly turned to face them. Thea thought she saw a glimmer of recognition in her rheumy, near-translucent blue eyes. Thea bent down, touching the downy softness of Mrs Pryor’s
hand.
‘Do you remember me?’ she asked her. She leant forward and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s so nice to see you.’
Mrs Pryor’s watery eyes searched Thea’s. ‘She wept so much,’ she said.
‘Who? Who wept?’ Thea asked, sitting down now in the chair that Michael had brought her.
‘Her . . .’ Mrs Prior answered, before turning sharply to Michael and demanding, ‘Who are you?’
‘It’s Michael, Mom. Remember?’ He smiled an exasperated smile at Thea. His eyes were full of regret.
‘Michael?’ She studied Michael, searching for clues. ‘I don’t know any Michael. Who are you?’ she demanded again, looking panicked now, half-standing up out of her
chair. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Don’t get upset. It’s OK. We’ve just come to visit you, that’s all,’ Michael soothed.
He helped his mother sit back down and she murmured something Thea didn’t quite catch, before falling silent again. She stared back out at the birdbath, as if Thea and Michael were no
longer – had never been – there.
Michael and Thea tried talking to her, taking turns to remind her of her life, but only twice did she actually look back at them, and not once did Thea see that glimmer of recognition
return.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Thea said. She felt a rush of tenderness as she watched Michael stroke his mother’s thin white hair.
‘This is a good day. Believe it or not,’ he said.
One wall of Mrs Pryor’s room had been entirely covered with photographs. Thea walked over and read the Post-it notes stuck to them: names and places and memories. She smiled when she saw a
picture of her and Michael as children – she couldn’t have been much more than six – sitting on the doorstep of Little Elm’s greenhouse, eating a big bowl of strawberries,
their grubby knees touching.
‘Look at us,’ she said, putting her fingertip on the photo. ‘And look, there’s Johnny.’
‘I remember you said you’d seen him,’ Michael said. He glanced back at his mother; she was still staring out of the window. ‘Let’s go and get a coffee,’ he
said.
‘Dr Myerson will come soon,’ Mrs Pryor said, shaking her head.
‘Sorry, Mom?’ Michael said, surprised that his mother had spoken.
But Mrs Pryor didn’t answer. Her eyelids started to droop and her head lolled forward. Right before their eyes, she fell asleep.
With their coffee mugs long empty, Thea stared across the polished wooden refectory table at Michael. She really hadn’t intended to tell him everything, but as soon as
she’d sat down with him in this spacious, silent room overlooking the rolling lawns, she’d found herself confiding in him. She’d told him all about visiting Johnny and finding out
about her mother’s baby. And then she’d told him about Shelley too. About how her half-sister had been given away.
Sister – sometimes the word still seemed so alien to Thea, but at other times it felt so natural, as if a part of her had always known that a bit of her life was missing and was waiting
out there for her.
‘My God. I wonder if anyone else knew?’ Michael said. ‘I wonder if Mom knew. It’s a pretty huge secret to keep, huh?’
Thea nodded. ‘It puts a weird perspective on everything. On the way I remember Mom. I always thought my father was the love of her life, but now I wonder if it might actually have been
Johnny all along. If Mom only stayed with Dad out of loyalty . . .’
‘So what are you going to do?’ Michael asked.
‘I’ve found her,’ she admitted. ‘My half-sister. I know where she is.’
Thea thought about all the money she’d spent over the last five years, on private investigators in England and Australia. Her search had been sporadic. As life in Maddox Inc. had become
ever more hectic, at times she’d thought of giving up altogether.
And after Tom’s death in 2001 she hadn’t wanted to hassle Shelley Lawson, suspecting that Thea would be the last person she needed to hear from. But two years ago she’d sent an
email reminding Shelley of her promise to help. Six months ago, just when Thea had completely given up hope, Shelley had sent a file of information. Details that Thea had studied again and
again.
‘But I don’t know what to do next, Michael. I mean, do I really have the right to drop such a bombshell into her life?’ Thea said. It felt so good to talk about all of this
with him.
Michael put his hand on hers. ‘It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind. Or why dig up all this information on her at all?’
‘But what about her? What about what
she
wants? Of course she has a right to know, but what if she’d be happier just as she is?’
Michael’s hand was still on hers. ‘Why not just go see?’ he said, smiling at her gently now. ‘You’re Thea Maddox, after all. What’s stopping you jumping on a
plane? The Thea Maddox I’ve known always had a pretty good instinct when it came to other people. So why not just go take a look and judge for yourself if she’s the kind of woman who
can take it in her stride?’