Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The roar of the rubbish truck almost deafened Matilda as she wheeled her bicycle out from the garden shed beside her small townhouse. As it accelerated away, she adjusted her helmet and peered down the street. Traffic was consistent at this time of the morning, with everyone in Brisbane on their way to work. The sun already shone hot overhead, and there was a strong scent of rain on summer grass in the air. It’d poured buckets overnight, and the summer heat was doing its best to grow every lawn in the city faster than anyone could manage to mow it into submission.
A magpie on her quiet Tarragindi street took great pleasure in dive bombing her each morning. However, it wasn’t the diving that bothered Matilda, it was the clacking of the bird’s beak as it swept past her ear that always made her heart miss a beat. She never quite knew when to expect it, and already, her pulse was accelerating in anticipation of the encounter. She’d taken to riding this stretch of her commute with a large stick held high over her head. It seemed to do the trick. But this morning, she hadn’t been able to find it. Her neighbour, Mrs Primrose, had probably thrown it away. She liked the yard to be neat and tidy with nothing out of place.
Just as she was about to climb onto her bike, her mobile phone buzzed in her pants pocket. She set the bike against the fence and pulled out the phone, then walked to the concrete front steps to sit as she answered it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Tilly.” The nickname Stella had given her when they were kids had stuck. The entire family called her Tilly, and even some of her friends.
“How are you? Back into the swing of life?” They’d all left Kingscliff the day before after two weeks together, and it felt strange to return to the usual routine now that Dad was gone. She already missed her siblings and the big old house he’d left behind, which now sat empty.
“It’s weird. I wanted to call Dad this morning to tell him about my DNA test results. They were waiting in my inbox when I got home. Then I remembered that I couldn’t. Did you read yours yet?”
Matilda frowned as she put the phone on speaker and scrolled through her email. “I don’t see the email. Oh, here it is. What does yours say?”
“Nothing unusual. I’m mostly English with a bit of Celtic and some French. Just like we thought. Although I was expecting more; I don’t know why.”
“I’ll open mine now.” She clicked on the link and a web page flashed onto the screen displaying the percentages of the various ethnicities and regions that had been found in her DNA. “I’m glad we all passed that cancer test.”
“For now,” Stella replied.
“Yes, no cancer for now. But at least we don’t have to worry about hereditary cancer though, after the genetic testing we did. That was a big relief for me.”
“Me too,” said Stella. “I didn’t want to think about it. But now that we have the results, it’s taken a load off my shoulders.”
Matilda scanned the website, looking for anything that made sense. She grunted. “Hold on, this says I’m German and Nordic. I don’t have any English or Celtic. Nothing from France either.”
“Well, that’s strange,” Stella replied. “How can you have different ancestry to me?”
“I don’t know. I’m not really sure how these things work. Can I have inherited different aspects of our genes?”
“I don’t think so.” Stella hesitated. “You’ve always looked different to the rest of us, but that shouldn’t mean anything. Right?”
“Hold on,” Matilda said, noticing something. “There’s a section on relationships. Do you see that?”
“Oh yeah, I see it. Mine has links to Bryce and Todd. And some of our cousins. Dad’s listed there too. He must’ve done the test before he gave us all a membership on the website for Christmas. He didn’t say anything about it though, that’s strange.”
Matilda’s stomach dropped. “I don’t have links to any of you.”
“What?!” The concern in Stella’s voice was evident now. “That can’t be right.”
“What is going on?” Matilda’s voice dropped to a whisper as a knot formed in her gut.
“Do you have anyone listed in the relationships section?”
“Yes, there’s a surname, but no first name. Someone has chosen to be anonymous on here. At least, that’s how it looks. The name is Osbourne. And apparently, I’m their cousin, at least I think that’s what it shows.”
“Osbourne?” Stella asked. “I don’t know anyone with that last name. Does it say where they’re located?”
“It looks like they’re in Georgia, in the southern part of the United States.”
“They must’ve mixed your test up with someone else’s,” Stella said firmly. “That’s all this is. We don’t have any relatives in the USA. So, it has to be a mistake.”
Matilda pressed her lips together. None of this made any sense. How could she have a link to someone she’d never heard of on the other side of the world? And why did none of her heritage align with her sister’s? They’d always joked that she was the postman’s daughter, and other lighthearted jabs about her looks, her talents, and everything about her that made her different to the rest of the family. But maybe there was more to it. Could it be true though? Surely her parents would’ve said something if she were adopted? The idea that she might’ve been adopted made her throat ache. This couldn’t be happening.
“I wish we’d never taken the test,” she muttered, suddenly angry. “I told you I didn’t want to do it.”
“No, you didn’t,” Stella objected.
“Well, I should’ve said something because I was against it from the beginning. I knew it would be trouble.”
“Tilly … don’t get upset. I’m sure it’s a mistake. We’ll figure it out.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s probably adopted and whose parents never told her.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.”
Matilda could tell that she wasn’t sure of any such thing. All the force had drained from her voice, and it sounded weak and strained.
“Why didn’t Dad say anything? Instead, he gave us these DNA test kits that we might never have used.”
“I don’t know,” Stella replied with a sigh. “I suppose this was his way of prodding you into investigating it.”
“But he could’ve said something.” Matilda was exasperated. Why hadn’t her father simply pulled her aside and talked to her about this? What had he been hiding? Or did he think the test kits were a cute gift and knew nothing about what she’d find? They would never have clarity. He was gone. So was her mother.
“We should ask Auntie Flora about it,” she said suddenly, her eyes widening. “She’s bound to know the truth.”
Flora was their mother’s older sister and the two of them had been very close. Flora had recently been a little forgetful though, so it would be interesting to see if they could get any useful information out of her.
“Great idea,” Stella replied. “I’ll call her later, see if she’s around tonight. We can go over there, take some cake. She’ll be talking in no time. I’m certain of it.”
Matilda finished the phone call and climbed onto her bike. She set off pedalling down the road, lost in thought. This was clearly some kind of misunderstanding. It couldn’t be true. The lab had messed up. They’d switched her test results with someone else’s. It was the only plausible explanation. But in the back of her mind, the same niggling doubts that’d plagued her childhood bothered her brain.
She’d always wondered why she was so different from everyone else in her family. Even studying biology had confused her—why did both parents have brown eyes and she had blue? It didn’t make sense. At the time, when she’d questioned her science teacher, they’d made some kind of remark about one parent having hazel eyes. Which made sense. Dad’s eyes had been more hazel than a true brown. Still, every other kid in the family, every cousin, uncle, aunt and grandparent, had brown or hazel eyes. And yet hers were a piercing light blue. They stood out. They made her different in a way that was hard to ignore. And now, she finally had no choice—the truth was tapping at the doorway of her soul, and she couldn’t look away any longer.
Auntie Flora’s house was a hour away from where Matilda lived. Her sprawling bungalow was set in five acres of bushland in the Sunshine Coast hinterland. It was beautiful and wild with dense green trees and long, thick grass. It could definitely do with a bit of elbow grease, since the house was in desperate need of a new coat of paint and the mailbox hung askew, but Matilda loved it there. She had so many good childhood memories of visiting the “farm” as they’d called it. Although there weren’t any farm animals these days.
They found Flora in the back garden with a watering can in hand and an oversized straw hat on top of her grey hair. Sweat beaded on her upper lip which Matilda noticed was stretched into a smile.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you two,” Flora said, as she embraced them one at a time.
“I called earlier,” Stella said. “You told me you’d be home.”
“It’s still so hot out,” Flora replied, deftly ignoring Stella’s words. “Let’s go inside. I’ve got the air-conditioning running, and I’ll put on a pot of tea.”
They went inside and sat in the sunny breakfast room at the back of the house overlooking the extensive gardens. They were a little overgrown these days, but it seemed Flora still spent most of her time there. Matilda had fond memories of picking sugar peas and eating them by the handful on hot summer mornings around Christmas time when they would often visit for a week or two. And some of Matilda’s favourite childhood memories happened there.
Flora fussed around the kitchen, boiling the kettle to make tea. She set some scones on a plate with small bowls of homemade blueberry jam and freshly whipped cream. Then, they all sat together on the lumpy, old wicker furniture that had seen better days.
“This is lovely, but you didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” Stella said.
“No trouble at all. I don’t get to see my favourite nieces often enough. I wish you’d called, I would’ve changed clothes.”
“We did call,” Matilda began, then changed tact. “We had some questions to ask, Auntie Flora. About Mum and Dad.”
“And about Matilda,” Stella continued, making eye contact with her sister.
Matilda’s heart was in her throat. What would Flora say? Would the next few minutes change everything? She wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear—that the DNA test was a mistake, or that she’d been adopted and everyone had hidden it from her. Even allowing the thought to flit across her conscious mind felt wrong, like a betrayal of her loving parents.
Flora raised a cup to her lips and sipped the hot tea. Then set it down again. “What is it, my darlings?”
Stella cleared her throat. “Dad gave us all DNA testing kits for Christmas.”
Flora arched a thin, grey eyebrow. “He did? Why?”
“We’re not exactly sure.” Matilda replied. “But maybe there was something he wanted us to know, that he hadn’t gotten around to telling us.”
Flora shrugged. “I doubt that. He was always an open book.”
“But when I did the test, it returned a really strange result, and I’m trying to understand it.”
“What do you mean?” Flora asked, her brown eyes finding Matilda’s blue ones.
“There doesn’t seem to be any connection between my DNA and my siblings. They’re all connected to one another, but I’m not.”
Flora’s eyes clouded, as though she had been transported far away. She gazed out the window. “Hmm … must be an error.”
“Do you think so? There’s nothing else to it?” Stella asked, worry etched in a line between her eyebrows.
“It doesn’t make any sense.” Flora shook her head slowly. “I was there. I saw you born. Your mother wanted me to be in the room. We were close, you see. Our whole lives, as close as two sisters can be. Your father didn’t want to be in the room. Not many fathers did in those days. But I was there. And you came out healthy and huge with a red face and ready to bawl. You’ve always been a strong one, my dear.”
Stella sighed and slapped her thighs with both hands. “Well, there you have it. I knew it was a mistake.” She smiled. “Phew! I’m glad we can put that behind us. There’s no arguing with Auntie Flora’s personal witness, Tilly. Let’s eat our scones and forget all about it.”