Private Sydney (Private 12)

‘A press shot showed him in a t-shirt with a jacket over his face. He had a tattoo of what looked like an angel on his left upper arm.’

‘Great work, Darlene. Remember, we all need to be careful. This isn’t over. In fact, it just got a whole lot worse.’

As soon as we arrived at Eliza’s house, she collected her spare set of crutches and headed to the bedroom. I followed. A double bed was raised higher than normal, easier to get down from, I assumed. A bookshelf in the corner only had books on the middle shelves, at a functional height for Eliza. The top and lower shelves were filled with photos, vases and trophies. I couldn’t help noticing the multitude of swimming awards, including a gold medal in one corner. There was so much I didn’t know about this woman.

‘Wait a minute. This is gold from the 2008 Paralympics!’

‘For breaststroke. As you know, butterfly wasn’t an option.’

I had d

one a quick background search on Eliza and this wasn’t something she promoted in her company or online.

‘You won this and never think to mention it?’

‘It doesn’t make me any better than anyone else. It was a personal goal I set and got to achieve it. It doesn’t define me. That blue ribbon,’ she pointed to a small wide ribbon with faded writing, ‘for running twenty-five metres in first grade means far more. Doctors said I’d never walk, and it took me longer than anyone else, but it was my proudest moment. Dad’s too. It showed me life was about potential not limitations.’

She leant across and removed an old, faded picture book. ‘Here it is.’

We sat on the bed and she lovingly stroked the cover. I noticed there was minimal dust on it.

‘When was the last time you looked at it?’

‘Couple of years, maybe.’

Someone else had touched it since.

She opened it and flicked through the pages. ‘Every page is here.’

‘May I?’ I ran my hands over the cover and binding. ‘We need to pull it apart.’

Eliza hesitated then agreed. ‘Do whatever you need to.’

I used a knife from the kitchen. The lining inside the back cover came away more easily than expected. I opened the binding and separated the cover, exposing a thin piece of paper.

Chapter 117

ELIZA READ THE letter slowly, then handed it to me.

My dearest Eliza,

These words are my legacy to you. I see you rolling your eyes because you have heard all of this before, many times, in various forms over the years. These are my firm beliefs. If we are separated, this is what I pray you remember.

I have always been the best person I could be. I beg you never forget that.

It isn’t who you are in life that matters. It is what you do and WHY that counts. Intentions are paramount. I have always believed that inaction is more harmful than well-intentioned actions that fail.

Life is a series of illusions. Things aren’t always what they seem.

Each of us is the hero in your own story (and you in mine). However, we may equally be viewed as a villain in others’ stories, for genuine or perceived crimes. Despite holding different views, looking or sounding different, originating from another place, one truth is certain:

We all strive to live in a just world, and to see that our loved ones are safe and cared for.

If events occur beyond your control, accept them. You were neither complicit, nor responsible. You should never be shamed by them. Hold your head high for the woman you are. Innuendo, supposition and accusations of others have no role in your life.

Anger, hatred and bitterness are lethal poisons. They cause a slow, painful emotional death that only you suffer. Self-destruction will never defeat an enemy or create justice.

Be prepared to live with the consequences of your actions. If you will not be proud of an act, don’t commit it.