Tears Of The Moon Part 31

They smiled at each other and Olivia glanced at the medical records. 'Well, Maria, I'm glad to say you seem to be very healthy. I'm sure all will turn out well.'

Olivia sat by the bed where Maria was hunched in the centre, her legs tucked under her, still wearing the simple shift they gave all the girls for the checkup. She looked miserable and tears trickled down her face.

Reaching over, Olivia took her hand. 'My dear girl. I know how you must feel ... truly I do.' And as the girl lifted an angry tear-stained face, Olivia managed to say, 'I have lost my only child, my son, in this war.'

The girl was instantly contrite but she spoke with bitter sadness. 'I don't understand why he went. He didn't have to.'

'Do you want to talk about him?'

The girl shook her head.

'Then let's make a pact. We can share our grief but we don't have to talk about it and drag it up all the time. It's just something you and I have to bear. They tell us to take it moment by moment, day by day. And it seems the best way. You have your child to think about.'

'I don't know what to do. I can't go back to my family ... the shame of it all. We weren't married yet ... we were about to be but he was called up to go, so quick ... '

'Let's wait and see. Maybe after the baby comes, you-and they-will feel differently. It is their grandchild, after all.'

The girl looked unconvinced but was somewhat comforted by Olivia's words.Maria soon slipped into the routine of Shaw House, marvelling at the compa.s.sion, help and generosity shown to the girls who pa.s.sed through. Three of them were pregnant-one had been a.s.saulted for running away from a brothel and two were homeless Aboriginal runaways who'd been living on the streets after being taken from their families as young children and farmed out as servants and mistreated.

She made herself useful and Olivia found herself calling on Maria for a.s.sistance more and more. Finally she asked Maria if she would be interested in working as her a.s.sistant once she was over the birth. Olivia liked the calm and pleasant girl and a bond slowly developed between them. She put it down to their shared loss, but was sensible enough to recognise the girl's abilities.

Gilbert encouraged the friendship, hoping it would help divert her attention. They never spoke of Hamish, Olivia kept all her pain locked up. She had taken down his photos and put them in a drawer by her bed. But once Gilbert had found her sitting in the darkness holding a photo to her chest. Not knowing she was in the bedroom he'd turned on the light and was shocked at the anguish on her pale, still face. He sat beside her and held her silently, wishing with all his heart she would at least cry or share the burden with him.

Maria's baby decided to come in the middle of the night and when Doctor Shaw was summoned Olivia insisted on going with him.

Strange feelings, thoughts and emotions swept over Olivia as she sat beside the panting girl in labour. Memories of the birth of James came back with great intensity and for a moment the awareness that she had lost both sons, her only children, threatened to overwhelm her. She gripped Maria's hand as her child pushed into the world and Olivia fervently hoped Maria would never suffer as a mother the way she had.

Gilbert held up the squalling infant. 'A girl,' he announced.

She was perfect. Dark hair and eyes like her mother. Olivia weighed and wrapped the baby in a blanket and tucked her into the crook of Maria's arm. Maria lay back and shut her eyes as she held her baby and several tears escaped from under her lashes. 'Oh, she's like a little doll.'

Olivia patted her head and silently left the room, her heart full, knowing Maria was thinking of the baby's father and how he would never share this joy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Over the next two years Maria became firmly entrenched at Shaw House. Olivia had taught her rudimentary bookkeeping and some secretarial skills. Although they'd found her a valuable worker, they knew at some stage she would have to find other work and make a fuller life for herself and her daughter. The impish and mischievous two-year-old ruled the roost at Shaw House and was considered part of the family, bringing great delight to Gilbert and Olivia.

To Maria, the Shaws had become her family as much as her friends. She hadn't been to visit her own family though she sent a note saying she had a baby girl and had chosen to keep her. Her mother had replied with a terse and bitter letter telling her she should have given up the child and then there might have been some chance of her returning to them.

When Maria mentioned her daughter's second birthday was looming, Olivia asked if she would like a little party. It would provide the staff at Shaw House and other children and their mothers with a happy diversion.

'Oh, Olivia, it would be wonderful,' responded Maria with delight. 'She's old enough to get some fun out of a birthday party, but it never entered my head to have one. Gosh, we haven't much time to make preparations.'

'Time enough, I'm sure. Tomorrow is Sunday so we'll pick you up after church and take you around to our house for lunch and we can sort it all out. The birthday is next Sat.u.r.day, and will fit in with the routine quite well.'

Maria rushed to Olivia and impulsively gave her a hug. 'You're a really special person, Olivia. Thanks. We can spend the week making decorations. It'll give everyone something to do. The kids will love it.'

Gilbert and Olivia detoured on their way home from church to wait at the Catholic Church until Maria and her little girl came out. They drove home and while Gilbert read the Bulletin Bulletin on the verandah, the two women took tea and biscuits in the garden in the shade of a tree. on the verandah, the two women took tea and biscuits in the garden in the shade of a tree.

It didn't take long to make a list of party items that had to be bought and a menu of cakes, sandwiches, biscuits, jelly, lollies and cordial prepared. It was done with a lot of laughter as both of them recalled funny events they had experienced at parties while growing up.

It was while the two were cleaning up to go inside that Olivia, without giving it too much thought, remarked sympathetically, 'Of course, it must be sad not being with your family for her birthday.'

When Maria didn't reply Olivia looked up to see Maria trying hard not to cry. 'I'm sorry,' Olivia said softly.

'No, it's all right. Truly. It's just that I'm not sure who is family.'

'Whatever do you mean?' asked Olivia, sitting down again and motioning Maria to join her.

Maria took a deep breath, 'Well, you see, I'm not white. I'm part Aboriginal.' Olivia gasped and Maria went on. 'Oh yes, I was adopted by a white family living in Albany, but somewhere I know I have another family. I have memories ... ' and her voice trailed away as she tried yet again, as she had for so many years, to make sense of the fragments of images of that other distant life.

Olivia leaned across and took her hands, trying to give emotional support at what she recognised was a cathartic moment in the young woman's life. 'You've not talked about your background to anyone?'

'No. Mum and Dad never mentioned it. Not once. The nuns at school never talked about it. It was as if it never existed. I was happy enough to accept it eventually. Seeing how Aboriginal kids were treated made me afraid to mention it, I suppose. I don't know. It's all so confusing. I tried to block things out but those memories just wouldn't go away.'

Olivia studied her, seeing the possibility of Aboriginality in her melting brown eyes and olive skin. 'What sort of memories?'

'Singing. I hear singing, but not in English. Singing and campfires.' She paused and seemed to be almost in a trance.

'Go on,' said Olivia in a whisper. 'What else is there?'

'I can remember a special night that I was the centre of everything. With my mother. But I can't remember clearly what she looked like.' Maria's Up trembled.

Olivia waited and squeezed her hands gently.

Maria went on. 'It was under the stars. Not a party ... a ceremony, yes, a ceremony. And I was given something special, like a present, I suppose.' Maria broke the clasp with Olivia and lifted her hands to a fine braid around her neck. 'I only wear it when I go to Church,' she explained. 'It seems as if there is some connection between it, the Church and the memories. I just have to put it on for Church.' She pulled the pendant from under her blouse and held it out for Olivia to see.

Olivia felt she was going to faint. The blood drained from her face as she swayed slightly and gasped.

'Whatever's wrong?' exclaimed Maria. 'Olivia, what's wrong?'

'The pendant ... ' said Olivia in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. 'I can't believe it. I've seen it before. Many times. The pattern, that is.' She looked at Maria more closely than ever before, searching for something that would confirm what was swirling through her mind as almost an impossibility. 'It's the same as Niah's.'

Their eyes met. 'Niah,' repeated Maria softly. 'Niah. I remember that name. It is one of the memories. Who was she?'

Olivia took a deep breath. She was on the point of tears. 'Your mother, I think. Yes, your Aboriginal mother.'

Maria let the pendant drop and the two women reached out, their hands locking in support of each other. 'My mother.' Maria could barely say the word. 'How can we be sure? It's almost too much to believe. Where? When?'

'I'm having trouble believing it, too, but the story goes back many years to when you were a baby in Broome. At least, it will if we can prove what I suspect. But everything adds up, your memories, your age, your beautiful looks, but above all your pendant. Niah told us that the pattern was special, a family totem.'

'Us?' queried Maria.

Olivia took another deep breath, but this time had to reach for her handkerchief and dab her eyes. 'Your father, if you are indeed Maya,' she said at last. 'Your father, John Tyndall. He was a friend of ours when we lived in Broome. When I was there with my previous husband.'

'Who was he?'

'He's still alive. A master pearler in Broome. I actually have shares in the pearling company he owns. My husband was a partner with him in getting it all started years ago.'

'He's white?'

'Oh, yes. He and Niah ... ' It was too hard for Olivia to go on. 'Look, we've got to be sure before we jump to many more conclusions.'

Maria closed her eyes. It was too much to take in. The world around her had to be shut out for at least a few seconds so that her racing mind might settle down again and let reason prevail.

'How will we find out for sure?' she asked, her eyes still closed.

'We'll have to go to Albany to see your white parents. There's really no other way that I can see at the moment. And if we're right, you're not Maria but Maya. That was the name of Niah's daughter. Maya.'

'And Niah?' The two words said little, but the look in her eyes said everything.

'She's dead, Maria. Died when you would have been quite young. I'm sorry.'

'Whatever are you women up to?' came a shout from the verandah and they both looked up to see Gilbert standing by the rail, shading his eyes with the Bulletin. Bulletin. 'Been chatting on down there like you'd never had anyone to talk to before.' 'Been chatting on down there like you'd never had anyone to talk to before.'

Olivia smiled and called back to him. 'In a way, Gilbert, you're right. Wait till you hear what we've discovered.'

Shortly after the birthday party Maria and Olivia caught the train to Albany. They'd both written to Maria's adoptive mother and father advising them that they were coming. Olivia had booked them into a hotel by telephone as the trip from Perth took most of the day. They caught a taxi to the modest cottage where the Barstow family lived and arrived in time for afternoon tea.

Mr Barstow, a schoolteacher, had left cla.s.s early to be at home and answered the door. He was stern looking, with a clipped silver moustache, thinning hair and tightly b.u.t.toned shirt collar. There was a moment of silence as he stiffly acknowledged Maria with a nod. 'G'day, Maria,' he said a little coolly. 'And a good afternoon to you, Mrs Shaw. Please come in. The wife is in the living room.'

'It is good to see you again, Dad.' Maria hoisted up the little girl but her father said nothing. He took a really good look at the pretty youngster who reached her hands out to him, but he didn't respond.

A few steps down the hall were double doors that opened into a living room crammed with furniture, little of which matched but looked well used and immensely comfortable. On an old traymobile with crocheted lace cloth, was an a.s.sortment of sandwiches, a sponge cake and lamingtons and a slightly tarnished silverplated tea service.

Maria tried to break the ice as they walked in. 'h.e.l.lo, Mum. Here she is, your granddaughter. And this is Mrs Shaw.'

The small girl spotted the cakes and threw herself forward, knocking Maria off balance. Spontaneously Mrs Barstow reached for the child and suddenly found herself holding her granddaughter, a little awkwardly and with some embarra.s.sment. The child studied her for a moment, then smiled broadly and planted a big kiss on her cheek. There was laughter, some of it a little forced, but the atmosphere relaxed slightly.

Olivia studied Mrs Barstow as she poured the tea. She was a bony woman with severely cut short brown hair flecked with grey, dressed in a good green dress with crocheted collar.

Olivia took a sip of her tea and began to spell out more details of the family background she believed to belong to Maria. The Barstows listened in silence.

'I've just got to know, Mum, Dad,' said Maria when Olivia finished giving them the facts that she judged to be essential at this point.

'Why, la.s.s?' snapped her father. 'You aren't one of them, one of the blacks. You're one of us. It'll only hurt the kid later on, believe me. And it won't do any good digging into what's dead and buried. Bad enough getting into trouble with that young fellow. Can't forgive you for letting us down like that. Hurt terribly. After all we did for you.'

'Please Mr Barstow,' pleaded Olivia. 'This is painful enough without being so hard on Maria. It hasn't been easy for her, you know.'

'Hasn't been easy for us either,' interrupted Mrs Barstow with some feeling. 'The shame of it all. The rumours that got around. Was hard to hold our heads up, I can tell you.' She smoothed her hair and adjusted the brooch at her collar.

'I'm sorry, Mum. Sorry for the pain it caused you, but there was nothing I could do about it once I knew I was pregnant. There was no way I was going to part with the baby. No way at all.'

Olivia tried to dampen emotions. 'Let's try to be practical about the current situation. Maria is determined to find out about her past. If you won't tell her, then we will try some other way. But surely you won't deny her right to know, whatever the consequences. That's her choice.'

The Barstows exchanged glances but Mr Barstow was immediately distracted by the little girl trying to climb up on his knee holding a half-eaten biscuit. 'Friendly little thing,' he said with a hint of softness in his voice, and carefully removed the biscuit and wiped her hand on a serviette. Mrs Barstow smiled fleetingly then went to a writing desk in the corner, fussed about in the drawers and found a yellowed envelope.

'It's all in there,' she said briskly. 'Advice from the adoption people. Not much about her background apart from the fact she came from an Aboriginal mission in the north near Broome. Father a white man. Mission people no doubt got records that will confirm everything.' She paused while Olivia and Maria read the letter together, then went on, 'Really, Maria, I think you're making a big mistake.'

'Mum, all my life I've been haunted by these memories. All my life I've been too frightened to even mention them, not even to you. But it's all out in the open now and I can't tell you what a huge relief it is. I don't know if it is a mistake or not. I know I pa.s.s for white and Aborigines are regarded as rubbish by most people, but I just can't deny what I am any longer. It's as if something is pulling me, some spirit ... ' Maria slumped back in her chair and put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. 'I don't know, it's all so confusing. I really can't expect you to understand. I hardly understand it myself.'

Olivia reached over and briefly touched her hand, then turned to the Barstows. 'I think the next step is to go to Broome. Thank you very much for at least showing us the letter. It tends to confirm everything and that's a big step forward.'

By now the little girl was demanding attention and tried to get on Mrs Barstow's lap. The woman was unable to resist the natural instinct to lift the child up. 'Pretty child, isn't she.'

'One big bundle of energy and trouble, I can tell you,' said Maria quickly, seizing on her mother's softening. 'Can't keep still and more adventurous than any tomboy.'

'A bit like her mother wouldn't you say, Fred?' said Mrs Barstow looking briefly at her husband. 'You were a handful when you first came to us, Maria, believe me.'

Olivia found this reminiscing contagious. 'Maya, Maria, was a real tomboy as a little one, I can a.s.sure you. She used to play with my boy quite a lot and they were always getting into mischief.'

There were a few more exchanges but the Barstows kept a wall of reserve firmly in place and it was clear to Olivia that they had come as far as they could towards accepting the situation. She indicated it was time to get the little one back to the hotel for a nap.

'Before you go, you'd better collect some of the stuff you left behind, Maria,' said Mrs Barstow, hurrying from the room with Maria trailing behind her. In the bedroom wardrobe was a battered schoolbag stuffed with bits of cheap jewellery, old letters, a favourite rag doll and a few photographs.

The farewells were formal enough, Mr Barstow extended a hand to both women and nodded, able to do little more than wish them a good trip back to Perth. Mrs Barstow gave Maria and the sleepy child a fleeting kiss on the cheek. 'You might let us know how things turn out,' she called from their verandah as the little group reached the gate.

The train next day wasn't crowded and they had a first cla.s.s compartment to themselves. It gave Olivia plenty of time and opportunity to tell Maya stories of Broome, Tyndall, Star of the Sea, and the story of how she first met the Aborigines of Niah's tribe, the birth of her first son, and many events that gave Maya a better grasp on her other world.

Maya became more and more excited as she learned about the time in Broome when she was a child. 'I can't wait to get there. Are we really going, Olivia? It seems such a big thing to do. And I've no money, you know.'

'I'm sure Gilbert will be agreeable. Forget about the money. I can't wait to see John's face when he meets you. It will be absolutely wonderful for him. He loved you so much. So much.'

They had morning tea then both dozed a little, lulled by the rocking of the train, the hypnotic d.i.c.k-clack of the wheels over the rails and the peacefulness of the pa.s.sing countryside. They were still about two hours from Perth when Maria took her old schoolcase from the bra.s.s rack above her and opened it on the seat opposite Olivia.

'I loved this rag doll. Couldn't let it be thrown away when I grew out of it.' She gave it a cuddle and pressed it to her cheek. 'Still smells the same.' She tried on some junky jewellery which made them both laugh and she handed some jewellery and the doll to her little one to keep her occupied.

Maya then started thumbing through the photographs. 'Oh, look at this will you. Me just after finishing high school. Mum and Dad were so proud they insisted on a memorial photograph.' She handed the picture to Olivia, who studied the gangly uniformed schoolgirl trying to look scholarly as she clutched a ribboned scroll.

When Olivia looked up to hand it back she found Maya looking intently at another photograph and was surprised to see tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. She said nothing for awhile then, as a big tear rolled down her cheek, asked quietly, 'What is it, Maya?'

Maya hesitated. 'We promised each other never to talk about our loss.'

Olivia nodded in understanding and gave a small comforting smile.

'I'd like to show you. It's the man I loved. Love still. Her father.' She looked at the little girl absorbed in her playing. 'Everything's different now, isn't it?'

'I'd like that. Yes, I'd like to see him.'

Maya handed over the cardboard-backed photograph. She barely had time to notice the look of astonishment before Olivia collapsed to the floor between them. Maya's scream brought a gentleman from the next compartment to the door. He rushed in when he saw Olivia and the two of them lifted her on to a seat.

'What happened, la.s.s?' he asked.