Page 71 of Return to the Waratah Inn

He studied her a moment. “Do what you like, Bindi. But you’re married — do you remember that? We said vows.”

“Of course, I remember it clearly. I haven’t done anything wrong, Josh. I love you, you know that.”

He hesitated and then forced a smile. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong. As you said, it’s not a big deal. I’m sure he’ll get over his crush. Let’s keep walking, I’m getting hungry and I’d love to eat soon.”

She fell into step beside him. Even as the sound of the crashing waves echoed in her ears, the silence that fell between them was deafening. She wished she hadn’t mentioned Brett. All she’d done was upset her husband over something trivial. She’d had no intention of spending more time with Brett. She’d dodged his calls and texts for days and she would keep doing the same until he got the message. But she hated that her own actions had brought this small rift into her marriage. She loved Josh with her entire heart. He’d been there for her through one of the hardest times of her life. He was kind, good and everything she wanted in a husband. She’d never let anything threaten their bond again.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

February 1998

Brisbane

The drive up to Channel Seven’s studio on top of Mount Cootha was a short one from Mima’s hotel in Brisbane’s CBD. She hadn’t told anyone where she was. Kate thought she was visiting a friend. She’d forgotten that cover story when she told Reeda she had a doctor’s appointment. Reeda had almost foiled Mima’s plans by insisting on driving her to the appointment, but she’d managed to deflect by telling Mima that her friend Betty had already offered.

She hated lying to the girls. They loved her and wanted to take care of her, but sometimes she needed to be on her own. And this was one of those times.

Even though she’d had multiple conversations with the producers, she still wasn’t entirely sure why they wanted her to come on the TV show. It was called Find My Family, and they’d told her she would meet the son she gave up years ago. But they must have it wrong — they’d likely confused her with someone else from the same hospital. She hadn’t given up a son for adoption. It was a mistake. So, should she go on a nationally televised show only for the host to realise the mistake live? Perhaps she should try again to call them back. So far, she hadn’t found anyone who took her concerns seriously. They'd brushed her off, told her not to worry, everything would come to light when she was on stage, didn’t matter if it was a mistake—that it was all part of the drama.

Still, there was a constant and niggling thought in the back of her mind—what if it wasn’t an error? Maybe someone had discovered the truth about her past. About the baby. She hadn’t given him a name. Before he was born, she’d wanted to call him Oliver, but then she’d never actually had a chance to look him in the face or call him anything at all. He’d died so quickly, and she was unconscious when it happened.

In truth, she was lucky to be alive. She’d come to this realisation after many years of pain and torment—that horrible day could’ve been her final one on earth as well. And even though at the time, she might’ve welcomed the darkness as a relief, she was glad now that she’d managed to fight her way back and live a happy existence in Cabarita with all of the people she loved most in the world. She’d made a life for herself, she’d healed from her brokenness, and she’d found her laughter again. It’d taken time, but she was happy and whole.

If someone from her past wanted to reconnect, or a stranger was looking for family, she was ready to face that. She had plenty of space in her heart for love and friendship now, and she was honestly curious about who it might be. She’d simply have to go on stage and wait to hear what they had to say. Even if it meant she was humiliated by some false narrative on national television.

She pulled her car into the parking lot. A red-and-white antenna tower loomed over the squat building in front of her. The building was nestled into the bush on the crest of a sloping mountain that overlooked the city of Brisbane. Eucalyptus trees lined the road and circled around the studio. A flock of cockatoos screeched as they flew overhead, white wings flapping in a steady rhythm. They settled in one of the gum trees nearby, their raucous calls rising in a deafening crescendo before falling quiet.

Mima slung her purse strap over her shoulder and faced the studio with trepidation. What awaited her inside? She wasn’t sure, but the possibilities were too appealing for her to walk away. She wanted to know the secret they were holding so close to their chest. She had to find out what it was that had made the producers call her a month earlier.

She clomped through the automatic doors and checked in with the receptionist, then waited until a production assistant came to fetch her. Before long, she was ensconced in the green room, with hair and makeup flitting around to all of the guests seated there. Each person looked as nervous as Mima felt, and no one was talking. Mima was too anxious to engage in the banter she normally utilised in order to get to know people or lighten the mood. She wanted this to be over, to get through it without embarrassing herself.

When it was her turn to go on stage, the same production assistant appeared at the door and beckoned her to follow. She asked him questions, but he brushed them off with a polite smile, saying he didn’t know anything more than she did. She doubted that, but he was a nice boy, so she pretended she believed him and did what she was told with far more docility than usual.

The assistant stopped in front of her before a black curtain. She almost ran into him, but managed to halt in time.

“Whoops! Sorry about that,” she said, smoothing her skirt with both hands. “So, what do I do now?”

He fastened a microphone to her collar, threaded the line down to a place on her back, and then pulled aside the curtain and pushed her through the opening with one hand on her waist.

“Oh, okay… Wow. Hold on…” Mima was blinded by a flash of light. There was the roar of applause and cheering coming from what must’ve been a live audience, although she couldn’t see a thing. She raised an arm to her face to block the glare, then stepped forwards.

“Come on over here, Jemima Everest!” a man with a smooth, jovial voice called out to her.

She blinked and saw him waving at her. He wore a navy suit with a red tie, and his lips were pulled into a wide smile, exposing large white teeth. She shuffled towards him. Her eyes adjusted to the light and spotted an audience seated in rows of stadium chairs in front of a rectangular stage.

“We’re so glad to have you join us. Won’t you take a seat?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’m Jimmy Cahill, and I’m the host of Find My Family. Do you know why we’ve asked you to come here today?”

“Hi, Jimmy,” she replied beaming for the audience. “No, I’m not sure why I’m here. But I’m certain you’re about to tell me.”

The audience tittered and Mima sat down, shifting her weight so she found a comfortable position on the hard couch.

“We have a secret,” Jimmy said with a dip of his head.

“Oh? How exciting.”