‘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.

‘What was this Jennifer’s last name?’ he asked.

‘Shillingworth,’ Frank said. ‘Bitch.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘I don’t know too many people with that name.’

‘Do you ever see her these days?’

‘Not since my wife left. Didn’t want to. But that’s what I don’t understand. What I just showed you, that must be what she wanted to sell me all that time ago. Who the fuck is this Ian Blackmore? Why would he have it?’

He was staring at Harrigan, his look almost a plea. All Harrigan could do was shake his head.

‘How did you get along with Craig when he was living here?’

Frank seemed to withdraw; his look was made up of suspicion and fear.

‘Why?’ he asked sharply.

‘Just background information, Frank,’ Harrigan said. ‘I don’t have any other reason for asking that question.’

‘He used to tell lies about me.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Just lies. All the fucking time. I tried to frighten him. I hit him. Things like that. Never fucking touched him. Even my wife didn’t believe him.’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘The day they left. I gave him my hand to shake. He twisted my finger as hard as he could.’

‘And you never saw either of them again?’

‘No.’

Silence.

‘You said he might still be alive?’ Frank asked.

‘I don’t know that,’ Harrigan replied. ‘I’m just investigating the possibility.’

Frank stared at him with an expression that spoke of strange knowledge.

‘Is there something else you want to tell me?’ Harrigan asked.

‘No. You can go now. I thought you were going to help me more than you did. I haven’t got anything else I want to tell you.’

‘Okay. Thanks for your time, Frank. Are you prepared to see me if I need to talk to you again?’

‘If you bring your wallet. You can see yourself out.’

Harrigan walked out of the silent, stale house and closed the door behind him.

He drove down to the beachfront and bought lunch in the local mall, then sat in the beachside park to eat it. The water was calm across Botany Bay. Planes taxied along the airport runway jutting out into the bay before powerfully skimming their massive weight upwards through the hazy air. Harrigan let the sun clear the shadows of Frank Wells’s house out of his head, then checked his watch. It was early afternoon. He would give Ellie an early mark from Kidz Corner and they would both go and see Toby. His son was confined to a wheelchair but Frank Wells was locked inside his own head more inescapably than Toby’s disabilities could ever have imprisoned him. Toby’s mind was free; given the confines of his body, it was the best gift he could have, the one Harrigan hoped he’d given him. He tossed the remains of his lunch to the waiting seagulls and went to his car.

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