A Twist of Fate (44 page)

‘You mean spy on her?’

‘I mean just go and do what you’ve got to do.’ His face grew more serious as he trailed his fingers along the curved line of his scar. ‘Life’s too short to play
“what if”, Thea,’ he said. ‘Don’t end up living with regrets.’ He forced a smile. ‘The Thea I remember, she never let anything get in her way. Just go and
do what you feel is right.’

Thea squeezed his hand tight in hers, his faith in her filling her with confidence. She found herself wishing again for a second, just as she had done in Landstuhl, that he’d never let her
go. And as his eyes met hers, despite what he’d just told her, she caught herself thinking:
What if . . .

And now here she was in Sydney – only all the confidence she’d felt then was gone. She wished she’d asked Michael to come with her. Just like when
they’d been kids, with him standing by her side she still felt she could take on the world.

Thea noticed the waitress hovering, waiting to take her order.

‘I’m still waiting for someone. Sorry,’ Thea said. ‘My sister,’ she added, testing out the words.

The waitress smiled brightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘No problem, you just call me over when you’re ready,’ she said, heading off to where other
diners had signalled they wanted their bill.

Thea looked at her watch again. She felt her heart fluttering with nerves.
Would
she come?
Would
she? Would she want to meet Thea as well?

She.

Jenny Mulligan.

Her sister.

In the twenty-four hours since she’d arrived in Sydney, Thea had studied Jenny Mulligan from Balmain in minute detail, sitting outside her house on the street in the hire car, peering
through the binoculars she’d bought. She’d watched a seemingly confident woman prepare coffee in the morning, before she’d ushered two boys out of the front door and had driven
them to school.

Thea had followed her to a shopping mall, where she’d opened up the grille of a shop and had turned on the lights, before plumping up the soft toys and furnishings in the window. Thea had
plucked up the courage to go into the store. She’d browsed for ages, before – her heart pounding at the sheer recklessness of her choice – she’d selected a red heart-shaped
cushion embroidered with the words ‘
Sisters make the best of friends
’. Something about it had reminded her of the embroidered heart Mrs Pryor had helped her make all those years
ago for her mother. Her mother, who had kept this secret from her to her grave.

Thea had felt so unconfident and humble as she’d approached the till where Jenny had been standing, as if her secret were written all over her face. But up close, Thea hadn’t been
able to imagine what genetic traits she might share with this taller, more athletic stranger. Thea had imagined this moment over and over again, thinking it might be like looking in a mirror. But
it had been nothing like that. In fact the only trait Thea had recognized in Jenny at all had been their mother’s eyes. The rest must have been Johnny’s, she’d thought, unable to
quell the sense of disappointment that this discovery had stirred up inside her.

‘Your sister will love that,’ Jenny had said, shocking Thea with her Australian accent. ‘I’m assuming it’s a gift?’ she said.

‘Er . . . yes . . .’

‘I always wanted a sister,’ Jenny had commented conversationally as she’d wrapped the cushion up.

Me too
, Thea had wanted to blurt out.

‘But instead I just got lumbered with a couple of naughty little brothers,’ Jenny had added with a grin, as she’d tied off the bow.

Thea’s resolve had wavered then. She had brothers? Thea’s file hadn’t mentioned that, but of course it was possible. There was no reason why Jenny’s adoptive parents
shouldn’t have had more children? Thea had felt herself starting to panic. What else might she not know?

She’d imagined it would be black and white. She’d thought that, after all this time and money she’d invested, she’d arrive here in Australia and make her grand
announcement and have a wonderful sense of:
what?
she wondered. Closure? Elation? But staring at this woman – this
stranger
– Thea had realized that it was all going to be
so much more complicated than that.

‘I know this is going to sound very strange,’ she’d said, plucking up the courage, suddenly knowing that if she didn’t do it now, then she’d never come back.
‘But I need to talk to you.’

‘Me?’ Jenny had said, staring at Thea blankly.

‘I have something to tell you, Jenny. It’s something to do with your family.’ Thea had lowered her voice, as other customers had come into the shop.

Jenny had stared at her, dumbfounded, obviously amazed that Thea knew her name. ‘But I don’t know you. Are you sure you’ve got the right person?’

‘I can explain it all. I’ve come a very long way to find you.’

‘Well, I can’t talk here,’ Jenny had said.

‘Then meet me later. I’ll be at the Opera House bar from six.’ Thea had put down some cash to cover the cost of the cushion, as well as a business card relating to the bar, so
that it would be easy for Jenny to find it. ‘Please. It really is vital that you come.’

And now Thea finally saw her. Jenny Mulligan was wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing at work. She must have come straight here, Thea thought, wondering
instinctively who she’d got to look after her kids. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face. She looked around her, as if it was the last place she ever might visit.

Thea stared at Jenny, again waiting for the moment of profound connection she’d been expecting to kick in. But it didn’t. Instead she felt an overwhelming urge to run away. She
forced herself to smile and wave.

She could do this, she told herself, remembering Michael’s confidence in her. Jenny might not be what she’d imagined, but she was still
family
. Her family. The only real
connection Thea had to her mother. Which is why Thea kept her smile locked in place until Jenny joined her.

Thea offered her some wine, but Jenny Mulligan refused, sitting nervously with her plastic handbag on her lap.

‘So what’s all this about then?’ Jenny asked, startling Thea with her directness. Thea was so used to people being subservient towards her, so used to them treating her like
their boss, that it felt weird to be put on the spot. ‘Is this to do with Danny’s cousin? If he’s got into trouble, then we’re not bailing him out—’

‘No, not at all,’ Thea said, startled, and remembering from her notes that Danny was Jenny’s husband. She realized that Jenny must have jumped to all sorts of conclusions since
their meeting this morning.

‘Then who are you?’

‘My name is Thea Maddox,’ she told Jenny.

‘You’re American.’ The words sounded more like an accusation than a question.

Thea watched Jenny scrutinizing her, her eyes checking out her diamond earrings and Moschino jacket.

She smiled uneasily again. ‘There’s no easy way to tell you this. But I’ve recently found out that you and I are sisters. Well . . . half-sisters.’

She looked at Jenny for a reaction – for tears? For denial? for what exactly she didn’t know – but all Jenny did was just stare blankly back.

‘Your father is Johnny Faraday,’ Thea said, hiding now behind the facts, hoping they’d be enough to convince Jenny that what she was saying was true. ‘He lives in South
Africa. Your mother – our mother – is . . .
was
. . . Alyssa McAdams.’ Thea slid the envelope across the table. The papers she’d spent weeks preparing.
‘It’s all in here.’

Jenny exhaled. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’

‘No.’

‘But me? Are you sure? I mean, Mum and Dad – they never said anything . . .’

Mum and Dad. The way she said those words. The way they sounded so solid. So full of history.
Oh, God
, Thea thought,
what have I done
?

‘You mean you didn’t even know you were adopted?’ Thea felt sick.

Jenny’s eyes filled with tears and her hard features crumpled. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She stared at the envelope, not taking it.

And Thea realized that she’d been so utterly wrong to have come here. And Michael had been wrong about her too. Whatever judgement she’d possessed as a child, she’d lost it all
now. Jenny already had a caring, loving family. She’d had no need, like Thea, to rake over the past, searching for embers of the truth.

‘I don’t know what you want from me,’ Jenny said.

‘I don’t want anything,’ Thea said.

But she did. She wanted something, she knew for certain now, that Jenny Mulligan would never be able to give her. She wanted the kind of sister who was a mirror-image of herself. The kind of
sister who might really be her best friend. The kind of sister that would make the nagging ache about her past go away.

Thea’s phone rang. And kept on ringing. She cursed herself for not putting it onto mute.

Jenny was staring fixedly at the envelope.

In frustration Thea snatched up her phone and demanded, ‘What?’

Storm’s voice crackled down the line. ‘Thea, where are you? Nobody has been able to reach you. You’ve got to come. Thea . . . it’s Griff . . .’

October 2009

The Nico Rilla Retrospective that Simona Fiore had organized in his memory was being held at the prestigious Belina gallery in Rome. The event had been on Romy’s radar
for months, but as Saturday night arrived and her driver, Dario, pulled the sleek Mercedes to a halt outside the brightly lit downtown mansion block, Romy suddenly found herself filled with
apprehension and dreading the attention and scrutiny she knew she was about to face.

From the shadows of the car she looked at the rain-slicked pavement and the blurred reflection of the gallery lights. Behind the plate-glass windows the venue was already full – a
colourful crowd of people laughing and drinking. Even from the car she could hear the hubbub of voices over the beat of the music coming from the open gallery doors. The Black Eyed Peas, Romy
recognized. Alfie had this track on his new iPod.

Simona had made Romy the guest of honour tonight, and in her Dior clutch was a speech she’d spent hours preparing, but still she wondered whether she was strong enough to be around all of
Nico’s old friends. It would be like travelling back in time. To that night again. The night Alfonso and Nico had died.

Romy had spent so much of the intervening years trying to erase the memory of what had happened – plucking out those shards of shrapnel, those twisted, bloodied remnants of the night her
life had blown apart. And mostly she’d managed it. But only by relentlessly and tirelessly focusing on the future – a future, she’d grown to realize, she was lucky to have at
all.

And as she’d driven herself forward, Roberto had been only too willing to let her drive his business alongside her. In the last two years he’d given Romy more and more
responsibility. So much so that, for the first time ever today, he’d left Romy in sole charge of Scolari while he and Maria set off to enjoy what Romy hoped would be the first of a series of
long-overdue holidays.

Romy’s only regret was that they’d taken Alfie with them. Romy hadn’t been able to refuse their invitation, especially as it had been presented as such a
fait accompli
by all three of them. Alfie had been so excited about going on the yacht. He’d also known, of course, that his grandparents would spoil him rotten, and that Roberto would give him a free rein
– far more than his mother ever did at home. And it wouldn’t be fair to him, Alfie had argued, if
he
didn’t go on holiday, when Romy was going to be at work every day
anyway, and had been for most of the time he’d been off school in the summer, he’d added, tightening the thumbscrews of guilt.

But Romy was still full of misgivings. She knew Roberto and Maria would protect Alfie, of course. She knew he’d be safe and would in all probability have a wonderful time, but she had
never spent so long away from him before – a whole two weeks. And it had hurt her that he’d wanted to go as much as he had. That he didn’t seem to mind being away from her at
all.

Does this mean I’m not a good mother?
The thought plagued her once again. She’d bent over backwards to do the right thing, whilst still fulfilling her commitments to
Roberto’s company. Even if it had been for just small parts of each day, she’d tried her best to be there for Alfie whenever she could.

But now she wondered whether that had been enough. Or perhaps whether somehow it might even have made matters worse, and that by seeing him in so many fits and starts, she’d only ever
really highlighted how much of the rest of the time she wasn’t there.

She remembered how he’d puffed out his little chest as he’d said goodbye this morning. He’d looked so independent, it had made her want to cry. And watching the raindrops snake
down the limousine window now, his absence filled her heart with a dull ache. And another sort of fear too. That he was no longer hers. That even though he was only seven and a half, he was already
more Roberto’s protégé than he was her little boy.

It’s only a fortnight
, she told herself, reminding herself again what she had come here to do, and telling herself that she too needed to be strong.
In two weeks they’ll
all be home in time for Alfie’s cousin Cesca’s eighteenth birthday party in Milan
, she told herself. In the meantime Roberto had told her this morning, before they’d all left,
that she should let her hair down and have fun tonight. But Romy wondered whether she even knew how to any more.

Usually she went to events like this with Alfie, or certainly with one of the family. But tonight she was painfully aware of how alone she was, and she regretted not asking Anna or Flavia along.
But their lives were busy. She couldn’t expect them to drop everything for her. And yet, without Alfie, she suddenly glimpsed the future. Pulling herself together, she took a deep breath and,
thanking Dario, who’d opened the limousine door for her, she stepped out onto the red carpet and smiled.

The gallery was crammed with so many people Romy recognized. That model – hadn’t they worked together on the Ferragamo campaign? Wasn’t that man Pierre,
Nico’s boyfriend when he’d died?
This would have been Nico’s favourite kind of party
, Romy thought, smiling sadly at his self-portrait in the centre of the room.