Umbilicus: An autobiographical novel

SCRAPBOOK

SMILING, SHE REACHES OVER to the scrapbook still lying on the far side of the table, and pushes it gently towards you. 'Here, I have a small gift for you.'

It's the kind you buy at CNA for school projects, and has been covered in brightly coloured wrapping paper and protective plastic. The childlike illustration is of two women facing each other. The younger one with dark hair is holding out a bunch of flowers, and the older one with blonde hair is holding out a plump red heart. What at first looks like a typical drawing of an apple tree in the middle of the picture is actually a tree bearing a dozen little red hearts. The significance of the illustration and the obvious care with which this paper has been chosen is not lost on you.

'It's something I've been working on for a few years now, as a form of therapy. I didn't know if I'd ever have the chance to meet you, and if you'd ever have the opportunity to read it, but when you phoned yesterday, and we made the plan to meet today, I knew I wanted to give it to you. It's basically just a mishmash of journaling, ramblings, thoughts, stuff that I wanted to tell you, but had no way of doing. I covered the basics in that letter they gave you at Child Welfare, but this is a more detailed history of my own past, of my marriage to Dylan, of the circumstances surrounding our divorce, and our decision to place you for adoption. I've also included quite a few important letters, and photographs, which will hopefully make things a little easier for you to understand.'

'Oh Beth, thank you!' You are deeply touched by this generous gesture, this intimate chronicle of your 'previous life' she has put together for you.

'It's only my pleasure. Go ahead, open it.' She sits back quietly while you turn to the first page. Blue sugar paper with a photo of a younger Beth glued to it, and a handwritten letter above that.

18th August 1992

Dear Charlotte

My thoughts are so very close to you today. If you should ever come searching for me, and then find that I have gone, please know that I never stopped thinking about you. At the innermost part of my being, you were always there. My heart ached with every beat, longing to know you.

With love

Beth

With a lump in your throat, you turn another page and there are two ID photos, one of a young Beth, the other of a young guy with long shaggy hair. Your heart is beating so loudly in your chest, you are sure she can hear it. There they are. Your mother and your father. Two faces, on the same page. At last! It truly is the most bizarre thing to find yourself, for the first time in twenty-one years, staring into the eyes of the two humans who actually created you, the people who gifted you your unique DNA. Studying the faces more closely, you are a perfect blend of both. His eyes, her mouth and chin, but the nose appears to be all your own. Underneath her own picture she has written: Beth Farrier, nee de Beer, born 5th March 1953. And under his: Dylan Farrier, born 12th July 1949. That would make her a Pisces and him a Cancer. Very different from the household of fire signs you grew up in — an Aries mother, Sagittarius father, and two Leo kids.

Pretty pops her head round the door and asks if either of you would like anything else before she leaves for the day.

'Good grief, is that the time already?' says Beth. 'I think it's best I be getting you home, so I can avoid hitting the worst of the rush hour traffic back out of town.'

'Good idea.' You've just realised she's had to make four trips for you today. Two into town, and two back. A full two hours in the car. What a schlep. It's at times like this you wish you had your own set of wheels.

'No thanks, Pretty. We're fine. You can go now. Thanks so much. I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Bye, it was lovely meeting you,' you say.

'Bye, Miss Charlotte. We hope to see you again,' says Pretty, spoiling you with a dazzling farewell smile.

'I hope you don't mind me cutting our afternoon short,' says Beth, looking a little disappointed it all had to come to an end. 'But I definitely hope we can see one another again. Before you leave for overseas.'

'Oh, absolutely.'

'As much as I'd love to sit and go through this whole scrapbook with you, it's actually probably better for you to do it in your own time. I can only imagine how mind-boggling all this information is for you, and how hectic it must be suddenly having a whole new family to get used to. Not just me and mine, but Dylan and his as well.'

'Sheesh, you're telling me!'

You both laugh.

The journo in you is dying to get home and jot down all the details while they're still fresh in your mind.

'I hope the photos manage to paint a better picture for you, help you put some faces to names, and the letters and things I've included are able to answer any other questions you may have. Stuff that we may not have had a chance to chat about today. But if there's anything I've left out, or you still want to ask me, please do. I'll do my very best to try and fill in all the gaps for you.'

'That sounds great. Thank you.'

'No, my darling. Thank you. For being so open with me today, even though we've only really just met. It was a helluva lot for the both of us to take in. But I'm so, so glad we got this opportunity.' She comes over then and hugs you. The connection is real. You feel valued, heard, but most of all, unconditionally loved and accepted. The foundations for a lifelong friendship have just been cemented. There is a sense of inner calm as the demons you have wrestled for so long quieten and retreat.