Page 36 of Sharing Forever in Hope Creek (Hope Creek #2)

I really don’t want to be here! Callie’s inner voice screamed.

Keep going.

Knowing she was subject to the intense, suspicious scrutiny of the guards, her nerves stretched so tight she was certain one would snap at any moment and she would hear a twanging sound like a violin string breaking.

Don’t think about where you are.

Nerves combined with the musty scent of the air made her feel increasingly nauseous and light-headed, but she was determined she would hold herself together. There was too much at stake for her to lose consciousness or have her visit denied before she’d even met with her mother.

One foot after the other.

What she really wanted was a good, hot shower. The whole atmosphere felt unclean—like evil had leached into every atom of oxygen. And her skin felt dirty because she’d been subjected to a frisk by the prison guards.

Pull it together, Callie.

She needed to have her wits about her because although this was one thing she’d sworn she’d never do, it was, perhaps, the most important thing she’d ever done.

It had been over twenty years since she’d seen either of her parents.

Over twenty years since her world had crumbled, her mother, Julie, had been led away in tears and her father, Mike, had wrestled with the police officers before he’d finally been physically subdued and cuffed. Then his face had been an impenetrable mask of belligerence and cold resignation.

It was amazing she still recalled those images so clearly.

What would her parents look like now?

Callie hadn’t even been sure that her mother, an inmate at the Dame Phyllis Frost Centre maximum security women’s prison in the western suburbs of Melbourne, would consent to her visit. It had been a tense two days’ wait until she’d received a response that her mother had accepted the visit.

Why had her mother consented?

Was Julie curious to find out about Callie’s life?

Did she have any regrets that her life choices had led to her child being left for others to raise on the outside?

If she did have regrets, would she apologise?

Callie pushed the questions aside. This visit wasn’t about her or about Julie.

Emotions needed to be shelved because this was neither the time nor the place for accusations or recriminations. Any questions she may have formed over the many years since she’d seen her parents needed to be locked down. There was only one question that mattered now.

Can either of them help me to help Jack?

Far-off sounds of clanging metal doors and muffled conversations of inmates or guards played as an unsettling background soundtrack as she proceeded down the long, almost clinical corridor towards the interview room.

Somewhere a woman shouted a torrent of abuse.

Dear Lord! How could any human survive in this coldly sterile, restrictive atmosphere?

Oh, she knew the people incarcerated must’ve committed terrible crimes against society, but what if some of them were innocent like Jack?

‘You’ll have half an hour.’ The prison officer’s voice broke into her depressing thoughts.

‘Yes.’ Hopefully that would be all she’d need.

‘Physical contact is permitted, but every move you make will be watched—both by the guards in the room and by those monitoring the security cameras,’ the guard told her in a detached, bordering on bored voice. ‘Break any of the rules and your visiting rights will be reviewed and possibly revoked.’

‘I understand.’ Callie felt increasingly as though she was the criminal.

This is for Jack and for our child.

With Jack’s future hanging in the balance, she had no choice but to confront the past she’d tried so hard to leave behind.

The officer opened the door to the interview room—a depressingly bland room with high, barred windows and row upon row of tables and chairs. Simultaneously the door on the opposite side of the room opened and a woman stepped inside escorted by a guard.

Julie had aged, of course, in the last twenty years, yet Callie still recognised her. Her mother was thinner and the prison clothing swamped her, appearing to be at least two sizes too large.

As Julie walked closer, Callie observed that her hazel eyes had dulled and her brown hair had greyed. Deep lines were etched into her forehead and grooves of bitterness bracketed her mouth. Lines carved due to the passage of time or the weight of her crimes?

‘Half an hour,’ the guard reminded them as she gestured to the table where Callie and Julie would sit.

They both sat.

For a few moments neither spoke.

Trying to read her mother, Callie saw interest quickly masked by an almost sullen defensiveness.

‘The prodigal daughter shows up.’

‘Hello, Julie.’

‘You used to call me Mummy.’

A title she isn’t worthy of.

When Julie spoke again, there was condemnation in every word and her eyes were accusing. ‘It’s been over two decades, Callie.’

It had been. And there were another ten years to serve. Such had been the profundity and complexity of Julie’s crimes. Although she’d hidden her searches from Margaret and Jim, Callie had looked her parents’ court cases up on the internet when she’d been in high school.

If Callie had needed to list all the crimes her mother had committed, she wouldn’t even know where to start.

There was the money laundering and fraud for one of Australia’s most notorious underworld gangs, Julie’s knowledge of ‘hits’ against rivals and, in two cases, her role in helping to dispose of the bodies of two rival gang members after her husband had completed the hit.

Julie sat back, crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. ‘Why now, sweet daughter of mine?’

Callie felt her eyes widen and her heart jump erratically in her chest as she saw the knowing look in her mother’s eyes.

Far out.

Julie knew.

It was ridiculous to assume so. Illogical to believe it. Yet somehow it was true.

How on earth can she know?

With every second that ticked by, Callie was more certain she was right. ‘I think you already know why I’m here today.’

Everything in Julie’s manner confirmed it. The light in her eye warned she was going to make—and enjoy listening to—Callie grovel.

‘I hear things,’ Julie confirmed. Her smile was bitter. ‘For the first time in twenty-odd years you need your parents’ connections because all the wealth the Richardsons have isn’t going to get you what you need.’

Callie couldn’t help the way her jaw dropped. Her fostering by the Richardsons was supposed to have been confidential. For her safety, her parents—and maybe even more importantly her parents’ associates—were never supposed to have known the identity of her foster family or where Callie was living.

‘Oh yeah, angel-face. Mike and I have known where you are all this time. We know where you live, where you work, and we know the father of your child has been charged with murder.’

Holy hell!

Yes, Jack’s arrest had been on the news, but how had Julie made the connection to Callie?

How did Julie know she was pregnant and that Jack was her child’s father?

Callie’s breathing stalled and every muscle went rigid. Alarm raced across her synapses, but perhaps more disturbing was the way her heart cramped as if some invisible hand had reached into her chest and squeezed it hard.

Had they bugged her homes? Bugged her phone?

Why? she wanted to ask. Why had her parents kept track of her?

The vulnerable child who still lived inside her wanted to believe it was because they cared about her. That somewhere, among all their evil deeds, they had actually loved her.

Tears began pricking at her eyeballs like the points of needles and that was enough for her to pull herself together. She would not feel anything for her parents. She would never give them any power over her.

Forcing her gaze away from her mother’s, Callie gave herself a mental shake and steeled her spine. Searching for pragmatism, she told herself it was a good thing they knew. If they knew so much about her, then they still had connections—connections to information that might be able to help Jack.

But, dear God—they even know you’re pregnant!

How on earth?

‘How do you know these things?’

Julie uncrossed her arms and raised one hand to her mouth to make a zipping gesture. Clearly her mother wasn’t going to reveal her sources.

Squaring her shoulders, Callie forced the questions aside and got to the point of the visit.

‘Jack’s innocent.’ Her words emerged hoarsely through vocal cords that were thick with emotion.

‘Yeah.’

Callie sat forward, clasping her hands on the table in front of her as she tried to figure out whether her mother’s response was sarcasm or an agreement. ‘What do you know? Is there anything you know that could help me clear his name and get him out of this mess?’

Julie’s lips pressed together firmly and Callie frowned for a moment because she thought her mother looked hurt.

The moment passed. Julie tossed her head a little and pinned Callie with a steely, narrow-eyed gaze.

‘Would you ever have come calling if he hadn’t been accused of murder?

Would you have brought your child here to meet Grandma when it’s born? ’

Callie swallowed. They both knew the answer so it was pointless to lie about it, yet even after all Julie had done, Callie had no desire to hurt her mother.

Besides, would Julie try to help Jack if Callie admitted it was the only reason she’d come?

‘No,’ she said as she released a long breath. ‘I’m here trying to find answers to help Jack. It’s the only reason I came.’

Julie’s laugh was more like a cackle. ‘Honest answer! Who’d ever have thought that Julie and Mike would have a kid who could be so honest? Don’t know where that came from, Buttercup. Honesty’s never run deep in either of our families.’