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ABOUT
THE AUTHOR Born on the A proud
convict descendant she often gives thanks to the ancestor who stole a piece of
fabric in A
professional storyteller and educator J B now lives in CHAPTER ONE Three
strangers walked across the park. Oblivious
to their approach Myrtle took Audrey’s hand and traced her forefinger in a
circle on her daughter’s palm. Her light touch sent tingles through the
child’s body. Myrtle
chanted: “Can you keep a secret... Can you keep a secret...? I don’t suppose
you can. You mustn’t laugh; you mustn’t smile, but... do the best you
can.” As
Myrtle finished the last sentence she quickly ran her hand along Audrey’s arm
up to her armpit. Throughout her mother’s chanting Audrey had managed to keep
a solemn face but at the moment her mother tickled her under the arm she burst
into peals of laughter. Myrtle also shook with laughter, suddenly realising it
was the first time she had laughed in a long time. The feeling of wellbeing that
resulted took her by surprise. Noel
lay on the picnic rug trying to eat his rattle but the rattle’s round head was
too large for his tiny mouth. Bertie sat on the edge of the rug and picked a
yellow, black centred daisy. He picked another one and started to make a chain
the way Myrtle had shown him, his fingers clumsily twining the stems around each
other. Then with confidence and authority he proceeded to demonstrate the skill
of making a daisy chain to his sister. Audrey, a willing and compliant student,
followed her brother’s instructions. Myrtle’s heart swelled with pride as
she watched. Three
shadows fell across their picnic rug before they were aware of the strangers.
Myrtle looked up. A stern faced woman in a navy suit flanked by two uniformed
policemen towered over them. Myrtle’s smile slowly receded. The children
seemed to sense danger. Bertie moved closer to his mother and sat on her thigh.
Audrey buried her head in her mother’s lap. The cold blue eyes in the stern
face stared down at Myrtle. “Are
you Myrtle Millicent Bishop, wife of Henry James Bishop?” Myrtle
was taken aback. Amid her confusion her senses seemed to be alert for threat yet
her mind could not grasp the possibility of danger. “Yes,”
she said. The
stern faced woman in the navy suit continued. “A case has been brought against
you in the court, Mrs Bishop. You failed to attend. I am here to tell you that a
ruling was made against you.” “Against
me?” “You
have been judged an unfit mother.” Fear
gripped Myrtle’s body. She lifted Noel up and circled her arms tightly around
him. “We
have an order here,” the stern faced woman continued, thrusting a piece of
paper in Myrtle’s face, “giving us the authority to take the children and
place them where they will receive proper care and attention.” Myrtle
could not believe what she was hearing. What was this woman talking about?
Proper care and attention? She looked up at the policemen. They stood
with arms folded, faces expressionless, eyes averted. Myrtle gathered Bertie and
Audrey into her arms with Noel and hugged the children close. Strong hands
pulled at her shoulders. She tightened her arms around the children, shaking her
head in protest. “You
can’t take them,” she screamed. “They’re my children.” Audrey
began to cry. “You’ll
only upset the children, Mrs Bishop. Don’t make it harder on them.” But
Myrtle knew only that she had to hold tight to her children. She felt Bertie
being pulled out of her grasp—saw him being swept up in the arms of the
policeman. Her hand clutched his shoe. He called to her; fear in his voice. “Mummy.” Myrtle
released her grip, afraid of hurting him. The policeman gathered him up and
turned away from her. Above Audrey’s screams she heard Bertie call again. “Mummy.” The
other policeman bent over and took hold of Audrey. Myrtle felt the child being
pulled from her grasp. “Nooo!!!”
she cried. “No! No!” Still
holding Noel to her chest with one arm she reached out in vain with the other,
at the same time trying to rise to her feet. The stern faced woman gripped her
arm and pulled Noel away from her. Myrtle fell back onto the rug. The woman
backed away with Noel in her arms. “We’re just doing our job, Mrs Bishop.” Myrtle
stood up and lunged at the woman. “Leave my baby alone,” she screamed. “It’s
an order from the court. We have no choice.” The
woman turned and quickly followed the two policemen to the parked police car.
Myrtle ran toward the vehicle, tears streaming down her face. The children had
already been put inside before she reached it. The woman restrained Audrey and
Noel in the back seat. One of the policemen nursed Bertie in the front passenger
seat. The other policeman walked around the front of the car to the driver’s
side door. Myrtle ran to him, clutching his sleeve as he made to slide in behind
the wheel. He prised her fingers open and released her grip on his shirt. “Let
go, love,” he said. “Your kids’ll be looked after, don’t worry. We’ll
let you know where they are.” Myrtle
begged helplessly as the policeman took his seat behind the wheel. “Please…
Please.” “I’m
sorry, love. They’ll be all right. I promise.” The
police car moved slowly away. Bertie pressed his tearful face up against the
window. Myrtle ran alongside the car, clawing at the glass, calling out. “My
babies. My babies.” When the car turned onto the open road and picked up speed she fell back, but ran and stumbled until the vehicle was far ahead. With faltering steps she walked in the direction the car had taken, sobbing, calling the children’s names. Several miles down the road her footsteps slowed. Perspiration dripped from her face. With dragging feet she wandered off the road into the bush, mindless of twigs and undergrowth. Finally exhaustion overcame her and she fell to the ground. Her body convulsed by sobs, she lay in a crumpled heap under a tree. Click on the cart below to purchase this book:
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