Callie Taylor stepped out the cab, dumping her small holdall on the pavement next to her suitcase. She felt in her jeans pocket for some cash.
"There you go, keep the change," she said, handing a twenty-dollar bill over to the driver and flashing him a smile.
"Thanks." The driver, a middle-aged stout man returned the smile. He carefully turned his vehicle around and drove out of the quiet suburban close.
Callie stepped onto the pavement and surveyed her new surroundings. It was so hot; she'd never expected this intense heat. She regretted her outfit choice now, but she'd made such grand plans when she'd packed to come on this trip that she felt to change things now would be to jinx things. Her jeans felt too tight and were rubbing, even if they did show off her long legs and skinny hips. Her top was thinner and more suitable for the weather, but showed off her rapidly fading tan that she'd gained from her holiday in Spain almost two months ago. Only her flip-flops seemed appropriate for the Australian summer.
The street was very quiet. Obviously even the locals found the heat oppressive and were sensibly staying indoors. Not like stupid Poms. Callie felt around in her holdall for the scrap of paper she'd scribbled the address she had to go to down on. 24 Ramsay Street. She looked around. The houses were set back off the road, and the gardens were full of lush vegetation. She wasn't exactly sure how these Australian houses worked; where were the numbers? She could hardly go rooting around people's gardens, checking door numbers. They'd think she was crazy. She crumpled the paper back up and shoved it in her back pocket, before hoisting her holdall onto her shoulder and moving towards the nearest house.
It was a large house from what she could see behind the trees. The garden was nice with a rockery and a variety of plants. He step-father, Gary, would be highly impressed; he was very into his gardening. Callie looked around for signs of habitation. A vintage looking car sat on the pavement outside it. She was useless with cars and wouldn't know the difference between a Mini and a Porsche.
Aha! A post box. Callie found the wooden box among a sea of plants and located the number. Twenty-four. Perfect. On seeing the numbers, she felt a strange fluttering in her stomach. This was really it; she was here. After the twenty-four hour flight from England, and the long coach journey out to the suburbs from Melbourne, not to mention staying in that grotty bed and breakfast last night, she'd finally made it to her destination. She looked up at the house with new eyes; she was standing only moments away from finding her family, the family she'd barely even thought about until a few months ago.
Taking a deep breath, Callie tossed her long treacle coloured hair back off her face, pursed her lips determinedly and flip-flopped her way up the steep drive. She negotiated the flight of stairs up to the front door well, used to it from work. The balcony outside gave her a stunning view across the road, and into next door's garden. She could imagine people would spend hours noseying into people's business around here.
She knocked on the door, making sure her shoulders were back and her chin up. Presentation was everything and she knew first impressions counted. Maybe she should have put on some real shoes…
The door opened and a man appeared. He looked about forty, she guessed, probably a little younger than her step-dad. He had a kind looking face, and dark hair that was turning grey almost in front of her eyes. Dressed in a check shirt and jeans, he looked the epitome of everything Callie had ever expected an Australian man to be.
There was silence as he looked her up and down, obviously waiting for her to say something. Callie, usually so unflustered, found herself stammering over her words. "Um, hi," she said awkwardly, giving him a weak version of her trademark smile. "I'm… is… does David Bishop live here?" The man's face looked shocked and Callie mistook it for ignorance. "I might have the wrong house!" she added hurriedly, preparing to leave. "It's no big deal, I must have the wrong address or something, I'll leave you to it, I'm really sorry to disturb you."
"No!" The man finally found his voice. He still looked horrified. "No, don't go…"
"Callie," Callie supplied her name. "Callie Taylor."
"Don't go." The man shook his head and gestured inside. "Come in, I… You better come in and sit down."
Callie followed him into the deliciously cool living room. She looked around. It was a nice place; it looked like it had been newly decorated. There was something cooking in the oven that smelt delicious.
"Sit down, can I get you anything?" The man still looked flustered and was awkwardly moving around.
"No, I'm fine thanks." Callie shook her head, her earrings jangling. "Sorry, are you David?"
"Me?" the man squeaked. "No! No, I'm his brother in-law, sort of, Joe, Joe Mangel." He offered his hand, and then shook his head. "It's not important."
"Oh, it is!" Callie nodded eagerly, taking his hand. "But I have got the right house?"
"Sort of." Joe nodded, but he still looked uncomfortable. "Look, why don't you sit down, and I'll make some tea? In fact, I'll ask my daughter to do it. Sky!" He called through a door leading out of the living room. He hesitated before moving into the kitchen area.
Callie lingered in the living room. A collection of photographs caught her eye and she moved nearer to take a closer look. One was of two girls, about seventeen or eighteen she supposed, one blonde, one with wild chestnut curls. They were both smiling widely, and looked pretty close. Another was of the second girl, with a woman who could only have been her mother with that hair and smile, and a man. Callie looked at the man more intently. He looked about the right age, she supposed, and his eyes…
"Dad, what's up?" Callie dropped the photo with a clatter, the glass smashing as it hit the tiled floor. The blonde girl from the photo looked across at the noise.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, shooting across the room and dropping to the floor. "Oh God, Dad, it's ruined!"
"Sky, be careful!" Joe warned her, coming back into the living area. "You'll cut yourself."
"But look, Dad!" Sky picked the photo up. It was slightly wrinkled in one corner where it had bounced when it had hit the floor. She looked at it with far more upset than Callie deemed strictly necessary. "It's all crinkled up," she said. She looked at Callie. "Who are you?"
"Sky, fair go," Joe said uneasily, as his daughter advanced towards the newcomer. "You can't just ask people that. Her name's Callie, she was looking for David."
Sky turned to face Callie in amazement, her unusually brown eyes creased up in disbelief. "You what?" she asked, virtually spitting the words out. She looked Callie up and down. "What did you want to see David for?"
Callie stepped backwards, feeling unwelcome for the first time since coming to this house. This Sky was certainly very hostile. "Um, I'd really rather discuss it with him first, if you don't mind. Is he not in?" Now she thought about it, maybe coming at two o'clock in the afternoon hadn't been the best idea. He was probably at work or something, but she couldn't wait any longer.
Joe looked about to speak, when Sky jumped in. "No, he's not. Is this some sort of sick joke or something?"
Callie frowned, utterly mystified as to why this girl was being so rude. There was absolutely no need for her to be so aggressive, and she was younger than her after all. Two could play at that game, and she wasn't exactly known for being a shrinking violet back home.
"No, it's not." Callie drew herself up to her full height of six foot, fixing the other girl with a challenging stare. "All I want to know is does David Bishop live here, and is he in? I just need to speak to him."
"Sky," Joe warned her, but his daughter was seemingly untameable.
"No, he's not in," Sky retorted.
"Okay, can you tell me when he'll be back then?" Callie asked, determined not to let it go now she'd come so far.
"He won't be back," Sky replied. "Never."
"What?" Callie was confused. "What do you mean? You said he lived here," she looked at Joe for an answer. He'd looked like an honest man, she hadn't expected him to lie to her like that.
"He does." Joe shrugged as Sky turned round to look at him angrily. "Sort of."
"No, he doesn't, Dad!" Sky lashed out at him. "Not any more!" She turned back round to look at Callie again. "David doesn't live here anymore, because he's dead, okay?"
Callie's stomach fluttered again and she felt the strange urge to laugh. Her knees trembled even though she was usually so infallible. She blinked several times, before answering her. "You're joking." A statement not a question.
Sky's jaw dropped and she gave a snort of laughter, not a funny laugh, but an incredulous bitter laugh. "You think I'd joke about that? Get out! Whatever reason you've got to see him, get out."
"You don't understand," Callie said, her voice wavering and hesitant. "I need to see him."
"Well you can't!" Sky pointed out the obvious.
"No, I…" Callie felt her legs starting to give way and she sat down on the sofa heavily. She took some deep breaths, practising the relaxing exercises that her mother had shown her from yoga.
Sky grew impatient with her. "What do you want here? We've told you he's dead, what more do you want?"
"Why did you want to see David?" Joe asked, in a kinder calmer tone.
Callie looked up at them both, her blue eyes clouding over with tears. "He… he's my biological father. I came all this way to see him," she said in a soft husky voice.