And I'd had over a decade to come to terms with that. Dad was just the man who'd been present when I'd been conceived, that was all. Just a face on the TV screen, a face I could regard with curious detachment. But when it came to my daughter, that was a different story. I'd never forgive him for the way he treated her when she went to see him. What a shame the country couldn't've seen him at that moment. So much for all his talk about getting back to basics and family values.
'Minister, d'you really believe that a quota system for the asylum seekers we in this country are prepared to aid is fair – never mind the legality of it?'
'We cannot keep taking in any person who comes knocking at our shores for entry,' said Dad.
'So if, for example, a major civil war caused a number of people to be dispossessed, you'd be happy to tell them that they will be accepted on a first come, first served basis and after our quota is met, the rest would have to go back to where they came from to face oblivion?' asked the interviewer.
'I think the specific details will need to be thrashed out with the PEC—' Dad began.
'But your proposal is to pull us out of the Pangaean Accord as ratified by the Pangaean Economic Community,' said the interviewer. 'Wouldn't that leave us in a rather invidious position as far as discussing anything with the PEC is concerned?'
'The PEC has placed an unfair burden on this country in terms of the number of immigrants we're supposed to allow into our country,' said Dad. 'I believe . . .'
I wasn't going to watch any more of that man. He wasn't worth my time. He wasn't worth my tears. But my mother definitely was. I needed to go and see her to make sure the drinking had well and truly stopped. She was scaring me to death, in more ways than one. Meggie entered the room, just as I was standing up.
'Sephy, can I talk to you?' she said as I walked past her.
It was as if she'd had to pluck up the courage to even ask me. I turned round. 'Yes, Meggie?'
'Is there any chance of you and Sonny getting back together?' Meggie surprised me by asking.
Frowning, I shook my head. Sonny was long ago and far away. I hadn't even seen him in close to a year.
'I hope . . . I hope it wasn't me . . . I mean . . . if you want to live with him or anyone else, I wouldn't stand in your way,' said Meggie.
I kept my mouth shut. Where was this going?
'I'd miss you . . . and Callie, but I'd wish you well and I wouldn't try to stop you,' said Meggie, her cheeks getting more and more red. She was looking anywhere but at me. 'I just wanted you to know.'
'It's a shame you didn't let me know years ago when it might've made a difference,' I told her icily. 'It's easy to say now, when my daughter and I are always at each other's throats. Thanks for nothing, Meggie.'
'I intended to say something the night you . . . you and Sonny split up. But it seemed academic then as you weren't together any more.'
Oh, Callum, look at your mum and me. So apart, that she's still considering Sonny, when I'm now going out with Nathan.
'Sephy, I . . . I'm so sorry for what I said and did when you came out of hospital.'
At my bewildered expression, she said, 'When . . . when Callie was a toddler. When you were very ill . . .'
My expression had nothing to do with trying to figure out what she was talking about. I just couldn't believe what I was hearing, that's all.
'I think I must've gone a little crazy.' Meggie shook her head. 'I've regretted it so much ever since
'Are you serious? And it's taken you over fourteen years to apologize?'
'Sephy, please. We need to talk—'
'Talk to your son,' I sneered. 'Get him to tell you the truth about Cara Imega and the countless others he's slaughtered. Get him to stay away from my daughter.'
'This isn't about Jude or even Callum. This is about you and me—' said Meggie.
'You made sure that any relationship I entered into after Callum was doomed to failure from the start. You blackmailed me into staying in your house. And you think sorry is going to cut it now?'
'Sephy, please. I just want—'
But I'd had enough. I couldn't bear to hear another inane word. Yes, I was being unfair. I knew Meggie's threats all those years ago had little to do with what happened to Sonny and me, but I didn't want her to think her coercion had made no difference to my life.
Because it had.
Callum's letters
eighty-five. Sephy
I stared at the label on the bottle of claret next to me. How long had we been in this cellar now? How long had the bottle been in this cellar?
'I'm going to keep asking until you tell me,' said my daughter, interrupting my meandering thoughts. 'Why didn't Nana Meggie take me to see you when you were ill?'
I'd promised myself that there'd be no more lies between Callie Rose and me. But how could I tell her the truth? How do I tell my daughter about what Meggie did to me? Some things are just better left unsaid, left dead and buried in the past. Callie loves her nan. I can't take that away from her. Not on top of everything else – no matter what Meggie did. Because if I told Callie, she'd hate her nan but hate me too for making her despise someone she's loved for ever. And I can't do that to her. And I won't do that to myself. I love my daughter too much for that. I've got so much wrong. About Callum. About my family – my mother, and Minerva and Callie. I can't afford to get anything else wrong.
'Are you going to tell me or not?' said Callie.
I sighed, then said with a great deal of care, 'Your nana acted with the best of intentions. She did what she thought was right at the time.'
'Mum, I want to propose something?' said Callie, unexpectedly.
'I'm listening.'
'Until Nana Jasmine lets us out, I want to ask you some questions and I want you to promise that you'll only tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but.'
I considered. 'I promise to tell you the truth or say nothing at all,' I said at last. I raised my hand to ward off Callie's protest. 'That's the best I can do.'
'Uncle Jude once said the same thing to me,' Callie Rose remembered.
'Yes, but unlike him, I'm not lying,' I replied.
Jude . . . If I had that man in front of me, I'd more than happily swing for him – in every sense.
I didn't look away from my daughter. I wanted her to believe me. To trust me again. Did she? I was so desperate for her to trust me. At least she wasn't shouting at me any more, but we still had such a long way to go. I couldn't help but wonder if we'd make it. I watched as Callie chose her next words very carefully.
'Why . . . why didn't you tell me any of this before?'
I took a deep breath to marshal my thoughts. I had to get this right. This was my chance to let Callie Rose know the true story and I couldn't afford to blow it.
If this didn't work then Callie Rose and I would be nowhere. We'd have nothing. Then everything Callum and I had been through would be for nothing. I had to let her know the truth.
And I'd never been so scared of failing in my life.
eighty-six.
Callie Rose
Mum bent her head briefly before looking straight at me. What was she doing? Preparing more lies? Or balking at the unfamiliar taste of the truth in her mouth?
'Callie Rose, I've wanted to tell you about the past for so long now, but as usual, my timing was off,' said Mum. 'I wanted to sit down with you and say . . . say all kinds of things.'
'Like what?' I asked, trying hard to keep the desperate edge out of my voice.
'Like no matter what other people might tell you, your dad loved us both very much.'
What a load of crap! 'I thought you promised not to lie to me.'
'I'm not lying, Callie.'
'Uncle Jude said—'
'Jude isn't your uncle, Callie. He just happens to be Callum's brother.'
'Then he's my uncle,' I frowned, confused.
'Callie, "uncle" implies a relationship. It implies more than just an accident of birth.'
'Bu
t Uncle Jude was the one who told me the truth about my dad when you and my nanas wouldn't. Uncle Jude told me about Dad joining the Liberation Militia and how he was . . . he was hanged for what he did to you. Dad hated you and me and every Cross. D'you know what it's like to know how I was conceived?' I looked away so Mum couldn't see the tears gleam in my eyes. 'So I understand . . . I don't blame you for hating me so much.'
'That's not true!' Mum leaped to her feet and came straight over to me. She kneeled down before me. 'Listen to me, Callie Rose, not a word Jude told you is true. Not one single word.'
She tried to pull me to her but I pushed her away.
'Don't lie, Mum. Stop lying. I . . . I've got Dad's letter.'
'What?' Mum sat back on her heels and stared at me, shocked.
'The letter Dad wrote to you. The letter that made you hate me when I was a baby. I've got it. I read it.'
I dug into my trouser pocket and pulled the thing out. I'd wanted to carry it with me on my first and last L.M. assignment. The paper was beginning to fall apart from all the times I'd read it in spite of myself. The tears on my face were a poor imitation of what was going on inside me.
'I read it,' I cried.
And then I lost it and broke down completely.
'Callie, darling. Listen to me . . .' said Mum. She tried to take me in her arms again, but I pulled out of her grasp. I bent my head, mortified by the tears that wouldn't stop, ashamed of the sobs I couldn't control.
I was bigger than this.
I was older than this.
I was harder than this.
But I wasn't . . .
'Callie, where did you get that letter from?' Mum asked earnestly, her eyes boring into mine.
'I . . . Does it matter?' I hiccupped.
'Callie, love, listen.' Mum's hand stroked my hair. 'You couldn't've seen the real letter your dad wrote because only I've seen that.'
I sat back, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar feel of Mum's hand. It was almost irritating, just like the way she kept denying that I'd seen Dad's letter.
'Mum, Uncle Jude gave me Dad's letter. It was just after I found out who Dad really was – when I was thirteen.'
'Jude again. I should've guessed . . .' Mum said through gritted teeth. Her eyes began to flash with quiet rage. 'Callie, the only reason that man got in touch with you was to use you for his own ends. What he feels for me goes beyond reason and far beyond hatred. Stop thinking he's your friend. He couldn't care less about you. He's just using you to get back at me.'
'No. He told me the truth.'
'His warped, hate-filled version of it,' Mum dismissed. 'Give me that thing.'
I looked down at Dad's letter, still clutched in my hand. My dad wrote every hate-filled word, yet I held onto it like it was a priceless jewel. It was my standard. I was determined to be my father's daughter and every time I felt my resolve wavering, I took it out and read it. Every time I wondered who I was, I took it out and read it. It was the only thing I had of his. I told myself it was the only thing I needed. If Dad could be single-minded in his ambitions, then so could I. Dad let nothing get in the way of what he wanted, and neither would I.
'Give it to me,' Mum ordered, her tone not encouraging argument.
The moment I handed it over, Mum took the letter and ripped it into tiny pieces, her gaze never leaving my face. I stared at her as she did it. I know it wasn't a photograph, but it was still from my dad.
'I should've done that the first time I read the wretched thing,' said Mum, more to herself than me.
She flung the shreds away from her without a glance. I watched them flutter and fall, and then they were still.
'D'you remember when we were burgled all those years ago?' asked Mum. 'They took our TV and some other bits and pieces.'
I nodded, wondering at the sudden change of subject.
'Well, the thief or thieves also took that letter. In fact, I'm convinced the letter was what the thief was really after. Taking all the other stuff was just a smokescreen.'
'What makes you think that?'
'Why would thieves want a private letter? The only reason anyone would take it was for personal gain or personal use. I'm not rich enough to blackmail. I'm not famous enough for the newspapers to want to publish it and embarrass me. And it'd only be a mild annoyance to your grandad – a five-minute wonder, if that. So that leaves personal use. I had that letter hidden away where no one should've been able to find it. Meggie must've told Jude about its existence and he got a couple of his L.M. buddies to do the honours.'
'But it's still the letter Dad wrote just before he was hanged—' I began.
'It's a fake,' Mum said.
I stared at Mum. Something deep inside me started to unfurl. Something too fragile to even begin to acknowledge, let alone analyse. 'Dad didn't write the letter I read?'
'Oh, he wrote it all right,' said Mum. 'But it was filled with lies. It wasn't the first letter he wrote to me. I've got the first letter Callum wrote. And the first one is filled with the truth.'
'I don't understand,' I whispered.
Mum dug down into her jeans pocket and took out a folded, yellowing piece of paper.
'I brought this to show you,' she said.
'What is it?'
'Callum's first letter. The one he decided he didn't want me to see. The one filled with the truth. The letter you saw was the second one he wrote, the one full of lies. This is the real one.' Mum held it out for me. 'D'you want to read it?'
I slid backwards even though my back was already against the wall. I had to get away from Mum's outstretched hand. 'No. No more of Dad's letters. Please. I couldn't bear it.'
eighty-seven.
Callie is 14
'Hi, Callie Rose.'
I glanced up. 'Oh hi, Lucas.'
Lucas faked a shiver. 'Brrrr! That greeting came with an Arctic wind!'
'Should I jump up and down and clap my hands with glee instead? Or how about I call you Looooo-cassssss!' I asked, affecting Bliss's pathetic girly tone.
'Please don't,' Lucas said seriously.
I looked around. Already we were the focus of an awful lot of attention. This whole situation was getting beyond a joke. Sammi believed my story about what happened at Bliss's party, but I'm not sure Rafiya and Audra did. The sly or snide comments and hushed asides around me were too many to ignore.
'I've never been so popular,' said Lucas dryly.
'I'm glad one of us is enjoying this,' I said, annoyed.
'I didn't mean it that way,' said Lucas. 'I told all my friends the truth about what really happened but even the ones who were at the party reckon there must've been more to it than what they saw.'
'If you can't believe your own eyes, don't believe your own eyes. And if you don't like the story you're told, make one up,' I said with disgust.
'Something like that,' Lucas agreed. 'I keep telling everyone that we're just good friends but everyone wants a love story.'
'You mean a sex story,' I corrected.
Lucas nodded. I looked at him, slightly puzzled. Just good friends . . . When did that happen? Not that I was about to argue. I liked Lucas and it was kind of cool having him like me. That didn't happen too often.
'What?' Lucas asked.
'I was just thinking about the meal we had after Bliss's party that night,' I said.
'What about it?'
'It was kind of you to bother.'
'No bother. I enjoyed it,' said Lucas. 'And to be honest, I was glad to get away. Bliss calling my name every five seconds was giving me a headache. I hope your boyfriend didn't give you too much grief for having a meal with me.'
'What boyfriend would that be?' I asked, surprised.
'Isn't Tobey your boyfriend?'
'Are you kidding me? Of course not.'
'Oh, I thought he was.'
'I don't have a boyfriend,' I denied.
A smile lit a path across Lucas's face. 'Wanna go out with me then?'
'What? And let everyone think they
're right about the two of us?' I asked.
'They're going to think that anyway. Besides, you didn't strike me as the type who cared what other people thought,' said Lucas.
'I don't.'
'Prove it then,' Lucas challenged.
'Yeah, OK,' I replied. 'I'd love to.'
'This weekend? Cinema and a meal?'
Lucas obviously wasn't one to hang about.
'Fine.'
'I'll see what's on and phone you,' said Lucas.
I watched him run off to join his mates further down the corridor. Sammi and Audra came running up to me from nowhere.
'We were watching,' said Audra breathlessly. 'What was that all about?'
'Lucas asked me out on a date,' I said.
'And you're going?' asked Sammi.
'Yeah. Why not?'
Sammi and Audra exchanged a significant glance.
'What?' I asked.
'Nothing,' they both replied at once.
I was about to ask them what that swapped look meant, but decided against it. After all, like Lucas said, I didn't particularly care what anyone thought. Much.
eighty-eight.
Jasmine
I thought, I hoped I'd seen the last of this hospital room. But here I am again and the prognosis isn't promising. I offered to let them do a full mastectomy this time, not just the lumpectomy I'd insisted on before. But apparently that ship has not only sailed but is now on the other side of the world. So I'm to have regular chemotherapy sessions and I have to take a whole pharmacy of pills. What was it Sephy said would be my epitaph?