‘None of this makes any sense to me,’ he said, like someone feeling they’re being pushed too far. ‘Let me show you this.’
It came out of the same cardboard box that had held the photograph album: a letter. Dated four years back, it was written on what appeared to be a law firm’s letterhead. Frank Wells was advised that according to her dying wishes, his birth mother, Dr Amelie Santos, wished to inform him of his parentage, proof of which was attached. She had died only recently and solicitors from the above-named firm were acting as executors to her will. She had left an estate valued in the millions and if he rang the above number, he would learn the exact amount of his inheritance. It was signed Ian Blackmore.
Attached to this correspondence was a photocopy of a letter from the Salvation Army to a sanatorium in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales, relating to the adoption of baby X, son of Amelie and Rafael, by a family with the surname of Wells. The letter was dated in the first half of the 1930s and gave the baby’s age as two months old. The full names and addresses of the adoptive parents, in Annandale, were also recorded. It was noted that the family was now ready to receive the baby and also that he was being adopted out because the father had deserted his mother two months prior to the birth. It concluded by saying that the adoptive parents would arrange for his christening and had chosen the name Francis Martin. Also attached was an extract from a register of marriages recording the marriage of Amelie Warwick, eighteen, and Rafael Santos, thirty-five. There were eight months between the date of the wedding and the adoption of the child.
Harrigan made quick notes of these details in his notebook, including the address of the law firm. They were based in Katoomba in the Blue Mountains. He looked up. Frank was leaning forward, his eyes still sharp and bright. He was shaking, involuntarily Harrigan guessed.
‘Were these your adoptive parents, Frank?’ he asked. ‘Is this their name and address?’
‘That’s them. That’s where I grew up. I’d never heard of this Amelie Santos before. I rang that legal firm just like the letter said I should.’ The bitterness in Frank’s voice was almost too profound. ‘They said they were the executors of my mother’s will all right, but they’d never sent that letter and they’d never heard of the man who signed it. And they’d never heard of me. She hadn’t left me a penny! When I heard that, it was a kick in the guts. That’s when I went and got my own solicitor. I couldn’t afford to but I was angry. I had to get something out of that woman. She wasn’t going to do that to me. What she’d done already was bad enough.’
‘Your adoption?’
‘Throwing me away.’ He sat like a rock, every bit of him radiating fury and hurt. ‘I didn’t care about any of this until I got that letter. But when I read that and I knew, I thought, you fucking bitch! She had fucking millions! She didn’t leave me a cent.’
‘Did she know who you were?’
‘She could have found me. Someone did. Why not her?’
Again silence while Harrigan waited for Frank to grow calm.
‘Who did she leave her estate to?’ he asked.
‘Some charity called Medicine International. My solicitor wrote to them and said I had a moral right to something. It took a while but she got it out of them. I’ve still got some money left.’
Out of an estate worth millions, perhaps not much.
‘Did you know you were adopted?’
‘Oh yeah, we knew. No one wanted us. That’s what she used to tell us all the time.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘My adoptive mother. When he was around she wasn’t so bad, but when he was gone, she was nasty.’
‘Your adoptive father?’ Harrigan asked, avoiding an inquiry as to what the word nasty might cover. ‘Is that who you mean by he?’
‘Yeah. They were Salvos. He used to go away to meetings and things.’
‘How many of you were there?’
‘Five. There was even an Abo. We had to sleep with him. She had her own two kids as well. Not that it made any difference. She was just as bad to them as she was to us.’
‘Do you ever see any of your adoptive family these days?’
‘They’re mostly dead now,’ Frank said. ‘Last time I saw most of them was when she died. That was 1970, I think. I wasn’t going to go to the funeral but my wife said we should. I should have pissed on her grave. I think I just wanted to make sure she was put inside it.’
‘Why have so many of you if she treated you so badly?’
‘Because it was her Christian duty.’ Frank mimicked what might have been the long-ago tones of his adoptive mother. ‘That’s what she used to tell us every bloody day anyway. There was one I got on with-Stan. He was my younger brother. Only friend I ever had.’ He sounded almost wistful. He looked into the distance, shaking his head. ‘She fucking broke his arm when he was twelve. Wouldn’t take him to the doctor. Tried to fix it herself, bodged it up. She lied about it too. He came home and she said, Stan slipped and fell, he’s such a clumsy boy. Fucking liar. His arm was never right after that. It fucking hurt him too.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘He used to be in the nursing home just down the road here. They said he had early onset dementia. I’d go and see him. Then one day he wandered off. They never found him. That was years ago, I guess he’s dead by now.’
‘Did your wife know you were adopted?’ Harrigan asked.
‘Oh yeah. She knew. And that’s the thing about that fucking letter I showed you. Where this Blackmore got that information. You see, my wife kept on at me. I should find out who my real parents were. I fucking didn’t want to know. I told her that. She didn’t fucking listen. Then one day she says to me, I hear they’re rich. Jennifer told me at the funeral. If you find them, we can get some money out of them. So what if they were rich? They didn’t want me in the first place. Why would they fucking give me money? Couldn’t get it into her head.’
‘Jennifer?’
‘My adoptive mother’s niece. Nasty cow, like her aunt. She liked to big-note herself.’
‘Could she have known who your real parents were?’ Harrigan asked.
‘Yeah. She worked in this place where the Salvos kept all their records. She told my wife. All the adoption records were there with everything else. She got to look at them.’
‘You really didn’t want to know who your parents were?’
Suddenly he looked tired almost to death. ‘No, I didn’t want to know. Why should I? They didn’t want to know me. It just makes you feel bad inside. I couldn’t get my wife to understand that. When I read that letter I showed you, I found out that my mother didn’t even give me a name. I wish I’d never known that. Even with the fucking money I got now. But fucking Jennifer. She told my wife, you know, give me the money and I’ll tell you, I’ll give you the papers.’ Frank leaned towards Harrigan, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. ‘Back then, you couldn’t find out any other way. Fucking told my wife she’d already made the copies. We just had to hand over the money, she’d give them to us. I wasn’t going to pay that fucking bitch for that. See her smile at me when she handed them over. My wife says, if you won’t do it, I will. I’ll pay her.’ Suddenly he was shouting in a raw, violent voice, as if she were in the room. ‘Fuck you, I said, no, you won’t. I said, if you fucking do that, Jesus, there’ll be hell to pay! She left after that. Took Craig with her. I didn’t want him. I remember when we were having that argument, he was sitting there watching my wife shout at me. Gave me the creeps. I just wanted him to get out of there. He was always fucking staring at me.’
‘Did you hit him?’
‘No!’
You did, Harrigan thought. You hit him and you beat her up. Maybe she even thought you were going to kill her. And she left, taking him with her. Left as quickly as she could. Frank was breathing hard. Harrigan gave him time to calm down.