Chapter 31

I arrived at mum’s just before 7pm. Mum poured a red for herself and a Jack straight up for me. It was time for A Current Affair to begin, so we positioned ourselves in front of the TV.

This is foreign ground for both us. Neither of us normally tune in to watch this show, but tonight we were interested in this particular episode, or part of it at least.

Two days ago, A Current Affair contacted me for comment following the retraction published by the West Australian newspaper. They suggested it was a newsworthy, feel good story of public interest.

After discussing it with mum, we agreed to meet with them. Prior to the interview commencing the Producer asked if mum and I would be prepared to be interviewed on TV. We considered it an opportunity for our voices to be heard, so we accepted.

Two days earlier, the cameras were set up right here in the lounge room. Several crew and the interviewing female journalist filled mum’s lounge. Bright spotlights on tripods beamed on us from either side of the camera.

Like most average Joes, I have not appeared on TV before, so it was a nerve wracking experience. We were advised to ignore the camera and focus on the interviewer.

The interview lasted approximately thirty minutes. Mum and I were happy with the questions asked and our responses; those we can recall, of course.

The interview was our chance to articulate, from a personal level, how we have been mistreated and how this Dawes investigation has impacted on our lives.

We realize the whole thirty-minute interview will not be aired, so we are interested to see what questions made it and what ones were edited out of the ten-minute segment.

When the show started our interview was the first cab off the rank. It was surreal watching ourselves being interviewed on TV. I clearly looked nervous, but mum was great.

The take away I got from the parts of the interview aired was how absurd this police investigation is, particularly when we confirmed we had a birth certificate proving I was born in WA.

In the interview we discussed Dawes and the lengths he has gone to in trying to prove his absurd theory. And we discussed our pending law suit against him and Queensland Police. To me at least, our responses made Dawes look like the desperate cop that he is, when it comes to this investigation.

The interviewing journalist raised the issue that back in ’94 witnesses noticed a green sedan driving passed Jayden Evans’ home more than once on the morning he went missing. She asked mum if she or dad owned a green sedan, when they lived in Queensland.

For us, it was a good question. Mum explained how they never owned a green sedan. She mentioned dad drove a brown and white Range Rover, which he needed to tow his boat, and she drove a black Audi sedan. They sold those cars before moving interstate to Karratha.

The journalist also raised the point that over the years following Jayden’ disappearance, the police interviewed a total of five hundred persons of interest.

‘But none were ever charged.’ She slipped in a comment, “chances are, Jayden’s abductor was probably among those interviewed.”

She then asked mum if the police spoke to her or dad at any stage while they lived in Queensland.

When mum replied with a firm no, the journalist added, “So would it fair to say, the investigating police had never heard of you, or your husband around the time Jayden Evans disappeared?”

Before mum could answer, the journalist asked, “You were never considered suspects, back then?” Her question was rhetorical to prove a point, but mum answered anyway with a firm “definitely not… And nor should we be.”

I was taken aback slightly when the journalist asked if we were aware that a convicted paedophile sued Dawes for damages after Dawes continually harassed this person and publicly accused him of being the person who took Jayden Evans. She mentioned the Queensland police settled the law suit for an undisclosed sum.

To hear Dawes has already been sued once before, over this case, was comforting, even reassuring given what we are going through.

I was so nervous at the time of the interview I didn’t retain all the questions asked, or our responses. So it was pleasing to see the interview presented as a neat package. Everything we wanted to be kept in was aired during the interview.

When our segment was over, the show went to an ad break. Mum and I exchanged curious glances; each one clearly wondering what the other thought. I went first.

‘What did you think…?’

‘I didn’t mind it, actually,’ mum said. ‘I think we were given a fair and reasonable opportunity to put our position forward… To show how we believe we have been mistreated in this whole investigation.’

‘I agree. She was completely sympathetic to our position, which was good. The green car question was a nice touch, I thought.’

Mum nodded. ‘I think the most telling part was that until recently, Dawes and the Queensland police had never heard of us. We were never on their radar as suspects, so why now, after all these years?’ Mum asked rhetorically.

‘I actually liked the part about Dawes being sued by someone else and the cops settling it. Means they knew they couldn’t defend it in court… That’s where we are with Dawes, I reckon.’

I lifted the remote when the show returned from the ads. ‘Are you interested in the rest of this show?’

‘Not particularly. Are you?’

I turned off the TV. ‘No.’

After watching our segment on TV we were both feeling upbeat for the first time in a long while. The aired interview spoke volumes to the injustices we are experiencing.

I decided to try and keep this feeling going so I offered to take mum out to dinner at the restaurant of her choice.

After making a quick reservation call, we finished our drinks, selected a suitable bottle of red and headed to mum’s favourite Chinese restaurant in the city.

Of late they have been few and far between for us, but tonight was a good night, especially for mum.

Chapter 32

Miles pushed himself up from his chair and stood. ‘Miles Davison, Your Honour. I appear for the two defendants named in the warrants… Mrs Vicky Miller and Mr Kade Miller,’ Miles said. ‘Both are present in court today.’ He gestured to us.

‘Thank you Mr Davison,’ the Magistrate said. Miles resumed his seat.

When Thursday finally arrived I was not looking forward to the scheduled court case to challenge the latest police warrants seeking our DNA and medical records. But the thing I dreaded most, was seeing Dawes again at the court hearing.

We were first case up, following the various adjournments and bail applications. When our case was called we made our way to Court One. The court room was empty when we entered.

High ceilings illuminated by rows of fluorescent lighting, with ceiling to floor timber panel walls and several rows of public seating; it was everything I pictured in a court room.

The witness stand was at the front on the left, while the prisoner dock and jury box were on the right side.

The Magistrate sat atop of a high, wide timber desk, beneath a framed photo of a young Queen Elizabeth. Seated in front of him was the female Clerk of Courts. Both were watching us as we entered.

Miles moved to the bar table beside the police Prosecutor, while mum and I sat behind Miles in the front row of the public gallery.

The Queensland Police Force was represented by a WA Police Sergeant. I scanned the room several times before it was evident Dawes will not be attending. That was the first positive to come from this process.

With the introductions out of the way, the Magistrate continued. He was an abrupt, elderly man in his late sixties to early seventies. With silver grey hair and a ruddy complexion, he glared over the top of small reading glasses perched on the end of his reddened nose.

‘This matter relates to an application to challenge warrants issued by Queensland Police against Vicky Miller and Kade Miller.’ It was a question, not a statement. Maybe people in his position of power don’t need to clearly articulate their questions.

Miles stood from his chair. ‘That is correct, Your Honour. You will note from our application, which I understand you have a copy in front of you…’

‘That is correct.’

‘…We have filed a motion to quash the warrant served on Mr Kade Miller, as invalid and further, we are challenging the warrant against Mrs Vicky Miller, compelling her to provide her DNA and medical records.’

‘Yes, I see that, Mr Davison. I have read your application.’ The Magistrate’s glare shifted to the police prosecutor. Miles resumed his seat as the Magistrate began. ‘Sergeant, do the police consider Mr Kade Miller to be a suspect, or the victim in this investigation? I must say… I’m a little confused.’

The Prosecutor stood from his chair and flicked through some notes. ‘Ah… The Queensland Police suspect Mr Kade Miller to be the young boy, formerly known as Jayden Evans, who was kidnapped back in 1994.’

‘So the Police consider Mr Miller to be the victim…?’

‘That is how I read it, sir.’

‘Then why has a warrant been issued for him to provide his DNA and medical records? He is not a suspect.’

The Prosecutor flicked through his notes. Several beats passed by as he turned pages. ‘Um… I note in the affidavit provided to the court by Queensland Police it names Mr Miller as a co-suspect, Your Honour.’

‘I see that, sergeant. But he isn’t, is he?’

‘No, sir. Not as I understand it. Your Honour will no doubt appreciate, I am not involved in this investigation. It is a Queensland Police matter.’

‘I am aware of that, sergeant. I am however concerned as to whether Queensland Police has misled the issuing court in its application for the warrant against Mr Miller. I too read in the affidavit that Mr Miller is considered a co-accused with Vicky Miller. It is clear to me that the warrant against Mr Kade Miller should never have been issued, and had the affidavit been accurate in content. The warrant would not have been approved.’

‘’I agree, sir.’

‘Mmm…’ The Magistrate glared at the Prosecutor. ‘I am mindful not to shoot the messenger… but I will be considering whether further action should be considered against the police informant who prepared the warrant affidavit…to determine if he has intentionally misled the court for the purpose of obtaining a warrant that should never have been issued.’

‘As Your Honour pleases.’

‘Mr Davison…’

Miles jumped to his feet. The Prosecutor sat down.

’I am declaring the warrant issued against Mr Kade Miller invalid, in that it misrepresented the substance of the laws it cited and further… It rendered the offence against Mr Miller, to which the warrant related, invalid.

‘Only a suspect can be compelled under this legislation to provide a sample of their DNA. As I understand it, Mr Miller is not, and has never been considered a suspect in the police investigation. Therefore, such a warrant cannot apply to him. The warrant is quashed.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Miles said. He resumed his seat.

The Magistrate glared over his glasses at the Prosecutor. ‘I trust there are no surprises in the warrant issued against Mrs Vicky Miller, Sergeant?’

The cop stood. ‘Not that I am aware of, sir.’ He resumed his seat.

‘Thank you, Mr Davison…’ The Magistrate said to Miles.

Miles jumped to his feet. That was his cue to present his argument. ‘Your Honour will note in the information in front of you, sir, that it is our position, this entire investigation by the Queensland Police is a witch hunt, bordering on harassment of my clients. To date, the police have not formally interviewed my client, Mrs Vicky Miller to put any allegations to her about their allegations she was the person who kidnapped Jayden Evans, the young boy who went missing from his Robina home in 1994.’

Miles flipped over some pages before continuing. ‘Your Honour will also note… In the records provided to the court, is a birth certificate, which I suggest is prima facie evidence my client’s son, Kade Miller was born in Western Australia in 1991 to my client Vicky Miller and her late husband.’

‘I see that, Mr Davison…’

‘Your Honour… It is our position that if the police accept this document as a genuine record from Births, Deaths and Marriages, then it questions their just cause in requesting my client’s DNA. This record confirms Mr Kade Miller is not the missing toddler from 1994.’

‘I tend to agree, Mr Davison.’ The Magistrate glared over his glasses at the Prosecutor. ‘Does the police have any evidence challenging the veracity of the birth record, Sergeant?’

Miles took his seat as the Prosecutor stood from his chair and quickly flicked through a number of pages in his file. ‘I don’t believe there is any evidence from the Queensland police at this time that would discredit the birth certificate provided, sir.’

‘What is the evidence Police will be relying on that will prove Mrs Miller kidnapped Jayden Evans, if the police accept the birth record?’

The Prosecutor flicked over pages. ’Sir… It is my understanding, the police have not accepted the birth certificate…’

‘I see… Explain.’

‘At this point of the investigation they have just not challenged it.’

’So, they are disputing the birth certificate as being genuine…?’

‘As I understand it, sir…’ The Prosecutor flipped over some page in his notes. ‘The Police reserve the right to challenge the birth certificate at a later time, based on the outcome of their inquiries.’

‘I see…’

’Queensland Police are hinging their expectations on the DNA tests they have requested to prove Vicky Miller and Kade Miller are not related. Further, Your Honour… The Queensland Police also suspect the medical records they seek will show that Mrs Miller never actually gave birth to Mr Kade Miller… If that occurs… They will then challenge the authenticity of the birth record.’

‘Given the Police are yet to obtain any DNA, or medical record evidence at this stage of the investigation…’ The Magistrate said. ‘What is the extent of evidence against Mrs Vicky Miller?’

‘The police were able to place Vicky Miller in the area where the toddler went missing back in 1994. There’s evidence to show Mrs Miller and her late husband resided in Varsity Lakes, a suburb that neighbours Robina.’

Chapter 33

Miles jumped up from his chair. ‘The defence challenge that statement, Your Honour…’ The Prosecutor sat. ’We do not dispute that my client and her husband resided in Varsity Lakes, however we dispute this places them in the area in 1994, when the young toddler went missing.

‘My client and her late husband sold their Varsity Lakes property in 1989… Which is a matter of public record…’ Miles emphasised, as he addressed the Prosecutor. ’And they moved from Varsity Lakes to Karratha after my client’s late husband accepted an offer for employment in his field of Civil Engineering. Your Honour will note, the Miller family home was sold well before the young toddler, Jayden Evans was born, let alone went missing.’

The Prosecutor stood from his chair. ‘That is how I understand it, Your Honour…’

Miles sat. The Prosecutor continued. ’Queensland Police are merely suggesting that given her knowledge of the area, Mrs Miller could have returned to the area at any time after they moved, to take the young toddler, as alleged.’

Miles jumped to his feet. The Magistrate held a hand up to Miles. Miles quickly sat. ’Does the Queensland Police have evidence that Mrs Miller actually travelled from WA to Queensland after 1989, sergeant?’

The Prosecutor checked his records, albeit briefly. ’No, sir. But I think the police are suggesting that Mrs Miller could have returned to Queensland at a later time and taken the child and because of this… The possibility cannot be discounted, so they are focussing their inquiries in this area.’

‘So there is no evidence at this time to support this theory?’

He made a cursory scan of his notes. ‘Not that I’m aware of, Sir.’

‘Thank you, sergeant.’ The Prosecutor sat. ‘Anything else for me to consider, Mr Davison…?’

Miles stood. ’No Sir. Other than the fact the police evidence fails to clearly show why my client is considered a suspect in their twenty-five year old case… Which, as Your Honour earlier pointed out, is a requirement under this legislation. We maintain the government birth record is a genuine copy and proves my client’s son, Kade Miller, cannot possibly be the missing toddler.

’Further to that, Your Honour, the police do not have a just cause to seek my client’s medical records. What they are intending to do, sir, is go on a fishing expedition in the hope they find something incriminating.’ Miles took his seat.

‘Thank you,’ the Magistrate said. He shuffled papers in front of himself. ‘The fact Mrs Miller previously resided in a suburb neighbouring Robina, is circumstantial at best, but could explain why she is considered a suspect in the police case…’ The Magistrate paused while he read his notes. ’But it should be noted, this is a directions hearing to determine if the warrant issued against Mrs Miller is valid, not a trial against Mrs Miller.

’While the police failed to present evidence that shows Mrs Miller did return to Queensland, at a time following her move, the lack of this particular evidence also fails to prove she did not. Therefore, and taking into consideration the veracity of the birth certificate is yet to be challenged, this possibility of return travel cannot be ruled out.’

The Magistrate leaned on his elbows. ’While I exercise caution over whether I consider Mrs Miller to be a suspect in the Queensland Police investigation… She is, after all, still considered a suspect. And under the legislation, a suspect is compelled to respond to the requirements of the warrant.

’Therefore because of the fact Mrs Miller previously resided in a suburb near where Jayden Evans went missing, it is the decision of this court that your client, Mr Davison, is required to provide a sample of her DNA to the police… This requirement of the warrant is to be satisfied on, or before eight days from the date of this hearing. I will add Mr Davison… I have made such a decision in the expectation that this process will most likely exonerate your client, rather than implicate her. I also question whether the police will have another sample to match it to.’

The Prosecutor stood. ‘Your Honour will note that Police have obtained a DNA sample from the mother of the missing boy… So police expect Mr Kade Miller’s DNA will be a genetic match to this DNA sample.’

The Magistrate’s eyebrows arched as he thumbed through his file. He paused to read something. ‘Ah yes… I see that. Thank you, sergeant. But I have already ruled that Mr Miller is not compelled to provide his DNA or medical records… Unless he volunteers these records… Mr Miller’s DNA will not available for comparison.’

‘Police still have the request for Mrs Miller’s medical records, sir.’ The Prosecutor return to his seat.

’Thank you for reminding me, sergeant. On the issue regarding Mrs Miller’s medical records… I will not be allowing the second part of the warrant. I do not authorize Queensland Police to access Mrs Miller’s private medical records. I agree with Mr Davison… This process is nothing more than a fishing expedition. This court requires a lawful and just cause reason to grant this access… At this stage, the police case has not provided such evidence. Therefore, it is my ruling that the second part of the warrant, relating to the provision of medical records, is quashed as being unsupported and therefore, invalid.’

---

It was a bitter sweet feeling as I strolled from the court with mum and Miles. We won, but we also lost. In the end, mum still has to provide her DNA, even though, in my opinion at least, the cops failed to prove why they consider her a suspect.

When we stepped out into the large foyer outside Court One, we found ourselves amongst a heavy population of people milling around, waiting for their hearing to be called.

The gathering was an interesting cross-section of our community. Some were respectably dressed in suit and tie, while others obviously thought a pair of faded, baggy track pants and a torn t-shirt was suitable court room attire. A heavy splattering of tattoos was the constant among the gathering.

Miles steered us to vacant seating along a side wall. We sat huddling in close while Miles discussed the brief hearing.

‘I was happy with how that went…’ Miles began.

‘But I still have to provide my DNA…’ Mum said in a tone dripping with frustration. ’For no justifiable reason at all… That is what irks me about this whole thing… It is against my civil rights…,’ mum said. Her bottom lip dropped as she sat back in her seat, clutching her hand bag to her chest.

‘I understand your frustration Vicky. Even though you are compelled to provide your DNA… The police will not have a sample from Kade to compare it to… The Magistrate even touched on that fact. So in essence, yes, you will have to provide it, somewhat against your will… But it will be an exercise in futility given the sample will not benefit their investigation. It will go nowhere.’

‘Even so… They will have my DNA sample… Just sitting there.’

‘That’s true… But as a suspect you are able request your identifying particulars… Your DNA, if you will… be destroyed after two years, if you have not been charged with a relevant offence during that time.’

‘So, they can hold mum’s DNA sample for two years…?’ I said. Mum rolled her eyes at the thought.

‘That is the current law,’ Miles said, rather matter-of-fact.

‘Look…’ Mum said, as she paused to adjust herself in her uncomfortable moulded plastic seat. ‘I am not concerned about providing a sample…That isn’t the issue… I haven’t done anything wrong… But by being forced to provide the sample… I feel like my rights have been violated.’

‘I understand Vicky,’ Miles said, again rather matter-of-fact. ’That is something we have no control over. I would rather we concern ourselves with what we can control… The rest is just background noise, as far as I’m concerned,’ Miles said. ‘The police don’t have a case against you, Vicky, and I don’t see that changing moving forward. We just have to let this run its course, after which it should fizzle out.’

’Should…’ I emphasized. ‘But never underestimate Dawes.’

‘Now…’ Miles said, clearly ignoring my comment. ‘Are you right to attend at the Police station to provide your DNA?’ Miles asked. ‘All they will do is take a mouth swab… It is quick and painless.’

‘I’ll do it tomorrow… I just want to put this all behind me.’

“Do you require me to attend with you, as your legal advisor?’

‘If all they are doing is a mouth swab… I don’t think you will need to be there…’ Mum said.

Miles stood. ‘OK, good,’ he said. He shifted his focus to me. ‘I’ll contact you next week in relation to the upcoming directions hearing for our civil action against Mr Dawes.’

‘No worries.’ We shook hands and Miles left.

I took the morning off work to attend court, so with plenty of time up my sleeves, I treated mum to a coffee and cake in a nearby café. I am worried about how she is coping with all this unnecessary stress Dawes is causing, so it was a good opportunity to reassure she is OK with everything that happened today at court.

Chapter 34

First thing Friday morning I attended my weekly meeting with the developers in their city office, to report on the progress of their build; a 30 storey apartment complex with ground floor retail tenancies, on the fringe of the city.

After this meeting I took the opportunity while in the city to visit the council offices to follow up on permits we were waiting on.

Once I was clear of my morning commitments I met Mitch for a mid-morning coffee at our usual café. As it turned out it was only a quick catch up because Mitch had to be at a meeting by 11am.

From the city I decided to head back to my office, via mine to pick up my gym gear for an after-work session. During our cuppa Mitch asked about mum, which reminded me that I still have to check in on how she went with the cops and her DNA test. She attended to it first thing this morning.

As I drove I hit a number on my speed dial and called mum on the hands free. It took several rings before mum answered.

‘Hi Mum… Just checking in to see how everything went with the cops this morning.’

‘Hi darling. It went OK, I suppose.’ Mum’s tone lacked her usual zest.

‘Was there much to the test?’

‘Not really. Some paperwork then they handed me the swab and I had to take my own sample.’

‘Relatively painless then…’

‘No it wasn’t Kade.’ Mum’s tone firmed. ‘I hated it. I was so upset. I felt like a common criminal when they escorted me out the back for the test. People were looking at me…’

‘Are you OK, mum?’ She sounded like she was heavily medicated.

After an unusually lengthy pause mum responded. ‘I think so. I’m just… I feel a little dizzy. It upset me doing that this morning, Kade, maybe a little more than I realised. But I’ll be fine. I’ll just makeammummab.’

‘Make a what…?’ I threw a U-turn. My trip home was now a detour to mum’s. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

Silence.

‘Mum…?’ My pulse rate quickened at the lack of reaction.

Silence.

‘Mum…! Are you there…’ I checked the connection. ‘Mum…’ My stomach started to churn.

‘Oh… Oh my lord…’ Mum began. ‘I’m. I just… I, I don’t… I feel… I think I need tositdunnnon….’

‘Listen mum. Sit yourself down and take it easy. I’m coming over to see you. OK…? I’ll make you a nice cuppa when I get there…OK…?’

Silence.

‘Mum…’

Silence.

I was only a couple of minutes from mum’s by this time. Speed limits and road rules no longer mattered. I overtook cars like they were standing still.

Something is clearly wrong. I have never heard her sound like that before. She was tripping.

I gave mum one more try. ‘Mum… Can you hear me…? If you can hear me… I’m getting worried. I’m going to call an ambulance…’ There was no response. I ended the call and dialled 000.

By the time I finished explaining my concerns and gave them mum’s address, I was pulling up at mum’s. I was out of the seat before my car came to a complete stop, sprinting to mum’s front door.

All I could think of as I ran was please be alive… Please be alive… This is my mum. She is all the family I have left.

After bursting through the front door I called out to mum as I ran through her home, searching for her. There was no response. My stomach churned.

When I reached the kitchen mum was nowhere to be seen. As I moved towards the lounge I caught sight of mum’s legs. She was unconscious on the kitchen floor, lying on her side.

My heart raced as I moved to her. She had a sizeable puce coloured bump on her forehead. Mum was non-responsive to my voice. I checked her pulse. I couldn’t find it. I started panting.

I had to stay calm. No pulse… Shit. I have to preform CPR. What is it…? ABC… Airways Breathing Circulation. After I checked mum’s mouth was clear I rolled her onto her back and opened her airways. I listened for any breathing. There was nothing. I re-checked her pulse. Nothing.

There was no time. I have no idea how long ago she stopped breathing. I started chest compressions, pausing to puff two breaths into mum’s mouth, before continuing. I repeated this action, hoping the ambos will be here soon. I don’t even know if I am doing this right.

As a sixteen year old, I applied to work part-time as a pool lifeguard, which required me to qualify for my pool bronze medallion. Part of that achievement was the requirement to demonstrate efficiencies in performing CPR—on a CPR manikin. I did it and did it well.

Shortly after I passed my Bronze Medallion my interests changed and my sporting pursuits took me away from the pool, so I have not practiced CPR since.

That was over twelve years ago and it was on an inanimate manikin, not a person and certainly not my mum; l cannot fail.

Mum’s sternum compressed under each downward push, causing her body to heave slightly. There was no reaction. Was I doing this right? I kept hoping CPR hasn’t changed since I last did it.

Where are the ambos? Come on guys.

Thirty compressions followed by two puffs of air. Thirty compressions flowed by two puffs of air. I continued this rotation, stopping only to check for a pulse. Each check returned the same result—nothing. I kept working, all the time pleading with mum to start breathing.

‘Hello…’ A voice yelled from the front door.

‘Down here… In the kitchen. Quick…’

A Paramedic burst from the hallway and raced around to us in the kitchen. ‘You’re doing a great job… Are you able to keep going while I set up,’ he said.

‘Yes. But I’m not sure if I’m doing this right.’

‘You’re doing perfectly. Just keep going,’ he said as he set up a defibrillator.

His colleague followed behind with the stretcher. He moved over to me and quickly checked mum’s heart with a stethoscope before taking over with the compressions. I stepped back and watched. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

Watching ambulance officers frantically working on an unconscious parent is terrifying and something I never want to experience again.

‘Is this your mother?’ The first ambo asked.

‘Yes.’

‘How old is she?’ The second ambo asked as he continued the compressions, stopping to squeeze puffs of breath into mum with what looked like a plastic bag attached to a mouthpiece.

‘Um…’ I cupped my forehead. My brain was clouded. I couldn’t think. ‘Um. Fifty-eight.’

‘Does she have a history of heart disease..?’

‘No. I don’t think so… Is she going to be alright?’

The first ambo applied the pads from a defibrillator to mum’s chest and activated the device. The second ambo used the stethoscope to check for a pulse. He shook his head.

Following a brief pause, a second shock burst was administered with the same result. No pulse.

My stomach churned. My legs felt like I had run a marathon. Come on, Mum…Breath.

It took the 3rd shock for mum’s heart to respond, albeit erratically. Once stabilized the Ambos loaded mum onto a stretcher and then into the ambulance.

After I gave them mum’s details I asked, ‘Which hospital are you taking her to?’

‘Royal Perth…’ The ambo said closing the ambulance rear door, after mum was loaded.

‘OK. I’ll see you there.’

Chapter 35

The Royal Perth Hospital Emergency Department only provides a row of six short-term car parking bays, to drop off patients. Technically, I wasn’t dropping off a patient but I parked in the only available space anyway, then rushed inside.

The automatic doors parted as I ran into the Emergency Department. Signs directed me to the Reception/Triage desk. A Nurse seated behind a window looked up at me from her clipboard.

’My mother was just brought in by ambulance… Vicky Miller… She’s fifty-eight,’ I blurted.

The nurse checked a list beside her. She glanced back to her right, to an area out of my line of sight, while I anxiously tapped my hands on the counter.

‘Your mother is currently undergoing some tests so I—’

‘Tests… What sort of tests…?’

‘Well… She’ll have an x-ray, some blood tests, but at the moment she is undergoing an Electrocardiogram.’

‘What does that involve?’

‘It will assess her heart rate and rhythm. The doctors will be looking for signs of heart disease, heart attack, an enlarged heart, or abnormal heart rhythms that may cause heart failure.’

‘She’s going to be OK… Right?’

‘You said she is your mother? What is your name?’

‘Kade… Kade. Miller.’

‘OK, Kade. Your mum is in good hands,’ the Nurse reassured. ‘The best thing for you at the moment is to relax.’ She gestured with her pen. ‘Take a seat over there in the waiting room and I’ll call you when she is back from her tests.’

The waiting room, located off to the side of the entry foyer, smelled of stale air and misery. The twelve or so people seated among the rows of chairs gave me assessing glances when I entered. I slid onto a seat close to the entry.

Apart from the young woman bouncing a screaming toddler on her knee, most of those waiting stared blankly at the floor, or at the wall mounted TV looping news highlights, broken at intervals by medical advertisements and health messages.

There was no talking or interaction. Everyone shared the same expression of Emergency Department wait time intolerance.

As time passed more people wandered in adding to the growing list of those waiting to be attended to. I found myself glancing around the room wondering what each person was in here for. A common thought kept recurring—I hope what they have isn’t contagious?

A bloke about my age, wearing baggy grey trackie pants and a black Nike hoodie and thongs wandered in and sat two seats from me. He nodded a muted greeting as he sat. I nodded back then checked my watch, hoping the nurses would hurry up.

Old mate next to me leaned in closer. ‘You don’t happen to have a spare dart, by any chance do ya, mate?’ He said feigning smoking by moving two fingers to his mouth.

While appearing personable, this guy was not someone I usually associate with. His emaciated face was pallid and sunken. The backs of his hands and the front of his neck were splattered with tattoos. What teeth he had left were crooked and yellowed.

‘Sorry, mate. Don’t smoke.’

He regarded me, unconvinced, as he said, ‘OK. Cheers any way.’

I checked my watch then checked out the Triage Nurse, hoping for some indication mum was back from her tests.

While I waited I watched the procession of arrivals filling the waiting room. An older guy, cradling a hand wrapped in a blood soaked bandage, accompanied by a similar aged woman, rushed up to the triage reception. His face echoed his apparent pain. He went straight through to the treatment rooms.

Just as my bum was starting to numb, a Nurse approached the waiting room. All eyes in the room watched in anticipation, no doubt hoping it was their turn. She paused at the waiting room entry. Her scanning eyes met me. ‘Kade Miller?’ She asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Can you come with me please…’

I jumped to my feet. I tried to get a read on her expression. ‘Is my mum OK..?’

A woman from behind moaned out loud about how unfair it is because she has been waiting longer than me.

‘Your mother suffered a heart attack… but she is stable,’ the Nurse said. ‘We have moved her up to the ICU… I’ll take you up.’

According to the floor-by-floor tenancy listing on the elevator wall, we exited at the 2nd floor Intensive Care Unit. I followed my escort passed the Nurses Station, down wide, seemingly never ending corridors, lined on either side with patient rooms.

Apart from a couple of two-bed wards, most of the rooms we passed were shared wards, with a bed in each corner, separated by a light blue curtain.

‘This is the Cardiac Care Unit,’ the nurse said, like a tour guide, as we strolled. ‘This is where we will bring your mother, once she fully stabilizes.’

’OK… Into one of these wards…?’ I said gesturing to the four-bed ward we passed.

‘That’s right…’

‘Will that only be temporary…?’ I asked on behalf of mum. Not that mum has had many, but all her previous hospital stays were in a single-bed, private room in our private hospital. We each pay handsomely for the privilege through our private health insurance. So she will not approve of this four-bed, shared ward in a public hospital.

‘Are you referring to the shared ward…?’

‘Yes. My mum would definitely prefer a private room…’

‘There are no private rooms available at the moment but… There may be a two-bed ward available. I’ll see what I can do. OK?’

I shrugged my disapproval. ‘Doesn’t sound like we have much choice… does it?’

The Nurse appeared to ignore my comments and deflected the conversation. ‘I understand it was you who found your mother.’

‘That’s correct. She collapsed while I was talking to her on the phone.’

‘The Paramedics said you performed CPR on her…’

‘That’s right.’

‘Well you should be very proud of yourself. From what the Paramedics said, your CPR saved your mum’s life…’

Those words resonated deeply as we continued along the endless corridors. My biggest fear the whole time I was working on mum was that I going to lose her because my CPR skills were not current.

The feeling of overwhelming relief when the Paramedics arrived can never be overstated. It was a case of, the experts were here. mum now has a chance.

After a series of left and right turns that caused me to question the size of this hospital, we arrived at the ICU. The sign on the closed door warned me to turn off my mobile phone and to ensure I refrain from entering if I feel unwell.

Following a compulsory squirt from the wall-mounted hand sanitizer, my escort opened the ICU ward door. I followed her down another corridor into the Ward. Rows of cubicles with curtain fronts, most of which were open, surrounded the fishbowl style Nurse and Doctor station.

The Nurse stopped at the 4th cubicle along and gestured inside. The front curtain was open. ‘Your mother is resting at the moment but you can go in and sit with her.’

The sight of mum lying there caught me off guard. I was taken aback. I don’t know what I expected to see, but it wasn’t what confronted me.

Mum was not conscious. She wore a full face mask, hooked up to oxygen. An IV drip was attached to her hand. Beeping and flashing monitors stood guard beside her bed.

I slid into the only chair beside mum’s bed. The prominent lump on her forehead was now a darker shade of purple.

I cradled mum’s hand, careful not to dislodge the oxygen clamp on her finger. Her hand was warm. Tears welled as I watched her sleeping.

She has to pull through this; she is too important to me. I don’t want to lose her too. But the more I had time to think, the more the anger inside me raged. Mum is here because of Dawes. She is here because his DNA warrant forced mum to provide a sample against her will. It was the final straw for mum.

Chapter 36

My eyes opened to the sound of two Nurses standing at the foot of mum’s bed, talking quietly.

All those sedentary hours sitting watching mum sleep, the casual glances to make sure the machines keep beeping, all took its toll. I fell asleep in my chair.

Before I opened my eyes I heard one Nurse say how cute it was of me to be maintaining a vigil by my mother’s bed. I heard the other whisper, “I think he is cute, regardless.”

It was time to let them know I am waking before it gets too embarrassing. I sat back in my chair.

‘Welcome back sleepy head…’ the Nurse holding mum’s patient record said, as I stirred awake. My focus flicked to mum. No change. She was still sleeping.

The other Nurse said to her colleague, ‘I’ll catch you later,’ then left.

‘Your mother is doing really well…’ the remaining Nurse reassured. ‘You are welcome to stay if you wish, but she is unlikely to wake before morning. She is medicated to ensure she rests.’

My focus shifted to this Nurse. She was hot—my age with Delta Goodrem looks, piercing blue eyes and perfect white teeth. Her name tag read, “Georgie”.

Surprisingly, there were no rings on her left hand. Maybe she takes them off to work. ‘Is she going to be alright?’ I asked as I regarded mum. ‘I have no idea how long she stopped breathing for before I got to her. Is that likely to have caused any permanent damage…?’

Georgie read mum’s record. ‘The Doctors completed a number of tests to check your mother’s brain activity and they were all very positive…’

‘I can feel a “But” coming…’

She smiled. ‘But…’ she said with emphasis. Her smile was captivating. ‘The Doctors will need to examine her fully when she wakes, just to check there are no lasting complications.’

‘OK thanks.’ I held my gaze on the Georgie. ‘You have an amazing smile.’ Those words flew out before I had time to think.

‘Oh. Thank you.’ Her tone was one of surprise.

‘I’m sorry, that probably came across as a little sleazy. It wasn’t meant to. It was purely a compliment.’

‘No. No. No. It was quite flattering, actually…’

I stood from the chair. After sitting for so long I moved with the dexterity of an old man. ‘Well…I suppose I may as well head home…So you think it will be OK for me to visit her tomorrow morning?’

‘Absolutely. I’m not sure if she will be awake by tomorrow, but you are welcome to come in and see.’

‘Great. Thanks.’ I kissed mum’s forehead. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Mum…’ I whispered near her ear. When my eyes met Georgie, she smiled. ‘I don’t know if she can hear me or not… but…’ I shrugged as my words trailed off.

‘I think she can…,’ she said with convincing conviction.

’I’m Kade… you know… in case I see you ‘round here tomorrow…’ It was the best line I had.

She smiled as she hugged mum’s patient record to her chest. ‘Georgie…’

I pointed to her name tag. ‘Yeah, I kinda already knew that…’

She rolled her eyes then giggled. ‘Of course… Sorry. I forget I’m wearing that sometimes.’

I checked my watch. ‘No wonder I’m feeling hungry. Do you get a meal break in here…? Maybe I can buy you some dinner on your break.’

Georgie’s face tightened. ‘Oh… Ah, no. Sorry. I ah… Look… that’s very kind but… I, I eat when I get then chance. But thank you anyway…’

That was the politest fob off I have ever experienced. I held up a hand. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable… I just thought, I have to get something to eat and if you… Anyway…’ I waved the back of my hand as my words trailed off, again. I didn’t need to spell it out.

‘You don’t have to apologize. It was sweet you offered, but I’m on until 10pm tonight, so…’

‘I understand…’ I gestured towards the door after making a fool of myself. ‘I must get going…’ Georgie stepped back from the end of the bed to allow me to pass.

‘But, if your offer extends to breakfast tomorrow morning, then…’ she said with a flash of her brilliant smile.

She caught me off guard. I was not expecting that. ‘Breakfast…. Ah Yes. Yes. Of Course. Of course it does. Breakfast would be great. Would you prefer somewhere in the city?’

‘The city would be best for me.’

’OK. Do you know Mancini’s on Swan…?’

‘Best coffee in town…’

’I know right? How does 8am suit?

‘Eight is great. I look forward to it.’

Following an exchange of mobile numbers, I left the hospital to return to mine to rustle up something for dinner.

It was difficult to remove the smile etched into my face as I strolled back to my car. Hitting on the ICU Nurse caring for mum is not my style. Sure they look hot in their uniforms but my sole concern during my visit was for mum’s complete recovery.

If nothing else, meeting Georgie was a pleasant distraction from all the worry and fear I have over mum’s well-being.

---

A fit looking waitress greeted me at the “Wait Here To Be Seated” sign, with a pleasant smile. Her manicured eyebrows lifted as she asked, ‘Table for one…?’

I flicked up two fingers. ‘Two.’

Following a quick scan of the café she escorted me to a two-seater table over by the side wall. ‘Thanks Tonya,’ I said as I slid into the seat facing the door. I pointed to her name tag when she stopped and gave me a, do I know you frown.

The café culture is alive and thriving at Mancini’s. People freshly groomed for the office occupied the 10 or so tables in the seating area. The hand full of staff behind the glass display counter presenting a fish bowl view of the cakes and pastries on offer, were flat out serving the take-away coffee line snaking back to the door.

Georgie arrived around two or three minutes after me. She paused at the door, lifted her stylish sunnies up onto her head as she scanned the café. My raised hand caught her eye. She smiled and moved towards me.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she approached. She looked amazing in her denim skinny jeans with burst knees and a white designer t-shirt. Last night in the hospital Georgie’s mousey-brown hair was tied back. Today, her shoulder-length hair fell free, framing her face perfectly.

I stood and greeted her with a cheek peck. We hardly had time to take our seats and say our hellos when Tonya returned and handed us two menus and ran through the Breakfast Specials.

While our order of two coffees and two serves of French Toast were prepared—mine with a side of crispy bacon, Georgie and I took the time to get to know each other a little better. For me, time seemed to stand still.

‘Have you had breakfast here before?’ I asked.

‘No. This is a first for me. I often grab a morning coffee from here though.’

‘I do too, usually when I catch up with my mate.’ I jabbed a thumb to my left. ‘His office is just up the road.’ Georgie smiled her response. ‘You come here for morning coffees…’ I said. ‘It’s a long walk from the hospital for a coffee…?’

‘Oh no. On my days off I come here for a morning coffee.’

‘I see.’

Georgie gestured to her right. ‘My apartment is not far from here.’

‘You live in the city?’

‘I do.’

‘Cool. So I take it you’re not a local then…?’ Georgie’s perfectly formed eyebrows arched. ‘I mean, living in the city… I assume you’re not from here, originally.’

She smiled. ‘I’ve been here now for three years but I’m originally from Victoria…a Regional town called Geelong, about one hour south of Melbourne…’

‘I know Geelong. It’s near Bells Beach…’

‘That’s right. Are you a surfer?’

’I don’t mind catching a wave or two… but I know Bells because when I was a teenager my dad took me there to watch the Bells Beach Classic… We stayed in a hotel in Torquay.’

‘Nice part of the world, isn’t it?’

‘It is. So how did you end up over here?’

‘I did my degree in the university in Geelong. After I graduated I did a few placements in Melbourne and Geelong… but positions in Victoria were highly sought after. I eventually applied for this position over here and I was lucky enough to get it. That was three years ago now…’

‘Geelong’s loss…Perth’s gain.’

Tonya arrived with our hot coffees. Our breakfasts followed shortly after.

Conversation with Georgie was so easy. I didn’t want breakfast to end. When I mentioned my unfortunate experience with Dawes and his absurd allegations about me being Jayden Evans, Georgie said, ‘I saw that in the West Australian. Was that you…?’

My mouth straightened. ‘Unfortunately… Yes, it was.’

‘Didn’t the newspaper run a retraction of the article and an apology…?’

‘They did, but only after we threatened to sue them for libel. Long story really but the short version is… Mum and I met with them with our lawyer and presented evidence to show the article contained false and damaging information about me and my family, especially my mum, whom you met last night…’

‘I did… Well, she was sleeping, but I’m sure I will get to meet your mother on my next shift.’ She said followed by a mesmerising smile. ’I especially remember reading that article though,’ she said continuing. ‘Because I felt so sorry for the guy mentioned in the article and the family involved…’ She shook her head. ‘And that was you…’ she said is a tone of amazement.

I held hands out to the side. ‘In the flesh,’ I said.

Our conversation continued well after Tonya cleared away our empty plates. It continued long after we declined Tonya’s offer for another coffee.

We shared a lot of information about each other; some of it personal. But the information that resonated with me the most was when I learned Georgie was single, having recently split from a 6-month relationship.

Patron numbers in the café had thinned considerably. Our table and two others were all that remained occupied. I had no idea what the time was and I didn’t care.

‘A lot quieter now…’ I said.

Georgie checked her watch: 9.45am. ‘Oh my goodness. I’ve kept you from your work.’

I raised a reassuring hand. ‘It’s OK. I have the morning off to visit mum, so time is not an issue. Are you working today?’

‘No. RDO. I’m on afternoon tomorrow.’ She scanned the café. Her nose twitched. ‘Do you think we should probably get going…?’

‘Probably should.’

After fixing up the bill I walked Georgie out onto the street. ‘I’m this way.’ She gestured to her right.’

‘I’m this way,’ I said pointing left. Several beats of smiles and awkward silence passed. ‘Well…’ I rubbed nervous hands together. ‘Maybe drinks and dinner next time…?’ I said, nervously.

‘I’d like that…’

Following a kiss on her cheek and an undertaking to call her later, we parted company. For the second time in as many days I could not wipe the smile etched into my face as I strolled to my car.

Chapter 37

It was a little after 10.15am by the time I parked the car and made my way to the ICU.

While I completely understand the hospital’s policy on banning visitors bringing flowers, cards and gifts into the ICU, it didn’t make my arriving empty handed any better. It felt so wrong not bringing mum a big bunch of get-well flowers to cheer her up.

There was no change when I arrived. Mum was still sleeping. I hailed a passing Nurse. ‘Excuse me…’ The Nurse smiled pleasantly as she approached. ‘I was just wondering how my mother is doing…’ I said, with a gesture towards mum.

‘Your mother is doing really well. Her body has been through some trauma so she is resting at the moment. It’s the best thing for her right now.’

’Is she having trouble breathing…? I said, holding an imaginary face mask to my face.

‘You are aware your mother suffered a heart attack, aren’t you…?’

‘Yes.’

‘It is completely normal for anyone who suffers a cardiac arrest to require some form of intubation and ventilation with a breathing machine. The type of assisted breathing required depends on the severity of the heart attack.’

‘I see…’

‘In your mum’s case, she has what we call non-invasive ventilation… This is where she receives oxygen through a full face mask, rather than the more invasive breathing tube…’ She gently touched my arm. ‘That is a good sign…it means she is breathing on her own.’

‘Is she sedated…?’

‘Yes, she is. This is just to help her rest while her body recovers. As I said…she has been through quite a traumatic experience.’

‘OK. Thanks…’ My pained eyes shifted to mum then to the beeping and flashing machines keeping her alive.

‘You’re welcome to sit with your mother, but it is likely she will be sleeping most of today… This is completely normal though, OK…’ she reassured.

The return walk to my car was depressing. Seeing mum in a comatose state in Intensive Care is difficult. Not being able to speak to her, to know she is well and that there are no lasting side effects from her heart attack, makes the extended wait all the more agonizing.

---

When the elevator doors freed me from my containment, I jumped out like a short-priced favourite at Ascot and moved quickly through the Cardiac Care Ward corridors. I was on a mission.

It is the end of mum’s 3rd day in hospital and I am still yet to talk to her. I am still yet to be reassured there are no physical or neurological effects from her heart attack.

When I called the hospital yesterday for an update, mum’s condition remaining unchanged, so I never visited. It is too upsetting seeing her like that.

The timely good-news text message I received from Georgie this afternoon lifted my spirits. Mum was awake and has been taken off assisted breathing. She is being moved out to the Cardiac Care Ward.

From the elevator I navigated the corridors like a seasoned visitor, thanks to the directions in Georgie’s text.

The door to 214 was closed when I arrived. After slowly opening the heavy timber door I peered inside. It was a two-bedroom ward. The afternoon sun bathed the room in natural light, courtesy of the large north facing window at the end of the room. Two beds, each enclosed by pale blue curtains, lined the right side of the room.

A Nurse emerged from the curtains surrounding the bed furthest from the door. She smiled. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Vicky Miller…?’ I said, alternating a questioning point between the closed curtains.

‘Ah…’ She moved to the bed closest to the door and peeled open the curtain at the corner. ‘Vicky is in this one,’ she said.

Mum’s eyes were closed when I peered in through the opening. Beeping and flashing machines stood watching over her.

‘What beautiful flowers…’ the Nurse said. ‘Would you like me to get you a vase for those?’

‘That would be great. Thanks.’

Mum’s eyes opened during my exchange with the Nurse. With dark rings under hers eyes and a pale complexion, she looked drawn. ‘Hi…’ I whispered then moved in to kiss her cheek.

‘Hello, Darling…’ I handed mum her flowers. They were the largest bunch I could find. ‘They are beautiful… but you shouldn’t be wasting your money on me…’ she said as she favourably examined the floral arrangement.

I jabbed a thumb towards the door. ‘A Nurse is getting a vase for you…’ I said quietly, as I slid into the chair beside her bed. I took hold of mum’s hand. ‘How ya feeling…?’ I whispered. ‘I gotta say… You scared the hell out me, Mum…’

‘I’m so sorry I put you through that, Kade… But I’m feeling OK… I suppose…’ She said, albeit unconvincingly.

The Nurse returned with a large glass vase, which she filled with mum’s flowers then placed them on a wall-mounted shelf.

‘Thank you for that,’ I said to the Nurse as she departed. ‘Do you remember much of what happened…?’ I asked mum.

Mum slowly rocked her head. ‘No… I have no memory of what happened. All I know is I woke up in hospital.’

I sandwiched mum’s hand between mine. ’That’s OK… There’s not much to remember. ‘You’re OK now though… Right?’

She smiled. ‘Thanks to you… From what I’m told.’

‘Thanks to the Paramedics and the staff at this hospital, mum. They’re the heroes here…’

‘I remember a young Kade moaning about going through all that training for his bronze medallion. He hated the CPR practice… “It’s a waste of time”, he said. “I’m never going to use it…”, he moaned, as he tried to get out of it. It interfered with his footy training. Do you remember…?’

With a conceding nod, I said, ‘I do.’

Mum’s mouth straightened. Her eyebrows arched. She made her point. Nothing further needed to be said, but I did anyway. ’You always told me, “You never know when your CPR training might be the difference between someone living or dying…”. Tears welled in my eyes. ‘I was so scared I would lose you…’

Mum placed her hand on mine. ‘I’m not going anywhere, Darling… thanks to you… and the staff in here.’

It was so relieving to chat to mum again. There are no apparent residual effects from her heart attack. Her conversations are lucid. She is alert and aware. ‘You just need to get better…’ I said.

The curtains parted and Georgie entered. ‘Knock. Knock. Hi Vicky…’ She smiled at me then moved to the opposite side the bed. ‘How are you feeling this evening…?’ she asked, as she checked one of flashing machines.

‘I’m feeling good thanks, Georgie…’

‘Good to hear…’ Georgie said. She made her way to my side of the bed.

‘This gorgeous girl is Georgie…’ mum began. ‘She’s been caring for me in here.’ Her eyes followed Georgie. ‘This is my son, Kade, Georgie…’ mum said proudly. Her mouth fell open as she watched me stand from my chair and greet Georgie with a kiss. Mum’s eyebrows arched. ‘Oh. You two have met…?’

‘Georgie and I went out for breakfast a few days ago…’ I said.

Georgie threaded her arm around mine. ‘And we’re going out for dinner on Friday night,’ she said.

‘How long was I under…?’ mum asked rhetorically. ‘So much has happened…’ she said. ‘You do make a handsome couple, though…’

‘I’ll pop back in later to see how you are going, Vicky, OK…’ Georgie said. She grabbed my hand. ‘And I’ll see you later,’ she said to me, followed by a departure kiss.

I watched her disappear through the curtains. When I looked back at mum, she smiled knowingly. ‘She is lovely, Kade.’

‘She is…’

The two hours of my visit was spent discussing anything and everything, to bring mum up to speed with what has been happening since she was admitted.

Everything that is, except for the one subject that contributed to mum being in here— Brent Dawes. Especially not the upcoming civil court case, which mum will not be attending; fully recovered or not.

Chapter 38

After parking my Ute in the multi-level car park, Georgie and I strolled along Hay Street towards the Perth Magistrates’ Court, located in the Central Court building.

Georgie and I have been seeing one another for about two weeks now and with mum not permitted to attend for health reasons, Georgie wanted to be my moral support at the civil case against Dawes and the Queensland Police.

The six or seven metre wide footpath outside the court building was heavily populated with several people standing around, presumably waiting for their case to be called. I was the only one wearing a suit and tie. Most were smoking despite the No Smoking signs prominently displayed along the building’s rendered brick walls.

We weaved our way through the gathering towards the front steps of the court building. Dawes was standing by the kerbside rubbish bin, drawing in a lung full of smoke before jetting it skyward. He stubbed his cigarette on the bin lip.

Georgie must’ve seen my lip curl. ‘What’s wrong…?’ She asked. She followed the line of my glower. ‘Is that him…?’

‘That’s him…’

Dawes met my glare. He smiled and lifted his chin in a muted greeting; an action I ignored.

We met up with Miles on the footpath out the front, near the steps leading into the court. A voice from behind interrupted me introducing Georgie to Miles.

‘Hi Kade… Good to see you again…’ I turned to the voice. My eyes fell to Dawes’ extended hand. Mine remained buried into my pockets. He got the hint and withdrew his hand. He passed his eyes across Miles, Georgie and me. He then scanned the gathering. ‘What… Vicky not joining us today…?’ He asked.

I have no idea if he knows mum has been unwell, but I really don’t care. I opened my mouth to unleash a barrage of abuse that has been building for months. Before any of my rage-filled words passed my lips, Miles grabbed my arm and gently eased me away, towards the front door. ‘We don’t have any comment for you today, Mr Dawes. Thank you,’ Miles said over his shoulder, as he guided me inside.

---

The 2½ hours waiting for our case to be called was spent watching the passing parade of people fronting up for their day in court.

Not being a regular visitor to the courts, it was astounding to witness the multi-cultural mix of people, mostly between 18 and 30, who lack basic pride in their appearance.

There was certainly a fashion stereo type present in the public waiting area; unkempt appearances, trackie daks—some of which have not seen soap and water for some time—t-shirts and thongs. A heavy splattering of tattoos was also a constant for all genders.

By the time our case was called the numbers in the public waiting area had thinned considerably. The elderly Magistrate eyed us from his elevated bench as we entered via the rear door and made our way to the front of the court. The light above him sparkled off the top of his balding head.

I slid into a chair in the front row, immediately behind Miles. Georgie sat in the row behind me. Dawes sat to my right, at the other end of the row, behind two, dark-suit wearing lawyers. The introductions helped clarify why Dawes has two legal representatives.

Miles went first. He stood from his chair. ‘Miles Davison, Your Honour. I represent the two plaintiffs in this matter, Kade Miller and Vicky Miller. Unfortunately Mrs Miller is not able to attend today, sir, due to ill health. I have a letter from her attending Medical Practitioner…’ Miles handed the letter to the Clerk of Courts, who relayed it to the Magistrate, as Miles took his seat.

‘Thank you, Mr Davison,’ The Magistrate said. He glared over his gold framed glasses to Dawes’ legal representatives.

The first lawyer stood. ‘Caleb Lowe, Your Honour. I represent one of the respondents in the matter… The Queensland Police Department… Ah, I understand we are included in this writ because Mr Dawes is employed by Queensland police… Not as a result of any actions by the Department.’

‘Thank you.’

He resumed his seat. The 2nd lawyer rose to his feet. ‘Byron Kent,’ Your Honour. I represent the other respondent in this matter, Detective Sergeant Brent Dawes.’ He took his seat.

‘Thank you, gentlemen.’ The Magistrate shuffled some papers on his desk. ‘This is a directions hearing to determine whether the matter should proceed to a civil hearing…’ He continued to shuffle papers as though searching for something. ‘I take it we are here today because attempts to mediate this matter have failed…?’

Miles stood. ‘Correct, Your Honour. We have been in communication with Mr Dawes and the long and short of it is, sir, Mr Dawes has refused to withdraw the damaging comments he publicly made about my clients.’ Miles took his seat.

The lawyer representing Dawes stood. ‘That is our instructions, sir… We have opted to defend this litigation.’ He resumed his seat.

‘Very well…’ The Magistrate said in a disappointed tone. ‘Mr Davison…’

Miles stood with note pad in hand. ’Your Honour… My clients have filed a writ against Mr Dawes, and by association, the Queensland Police Department, in relation to damaging comments Mr Dawes made to a journalist from the Western Australian newspaper.

‘This journalist later published Mr Dawes’ comments in the newspaper, citing Mr Dawes as the source. Your Honour has a copy of the West Australian newspaper article included in our writ submission.’

The Magistrate flicked through a file in front of him. ‘I do…’

‘These published comments from Mr Dawes, which we will show were defamatory, were this, sir… He stated categorically to the journalist that back in 1994, my client Mrs Vicky Miller and her late husband, Ross Miller, kidnapped a three year old child by the name of Jayden Evans, brought him to WA and raised him as their own son… naming him Kade Miller…’ he gestured to me. ‘Your Honour will be aware that Mr Kade Miller is a co-plaintiff in this matter.’

Miles continued. ’Regrettably, sir, the type of damage caused by Mr Dawes is no longer something that can be simply undone. As a highly qualified and respected member of the Queensland police force, Mr Dawes did not suggest Mrs Vicky Miller was a suspect… No, sir… Mr Dawes went all in, despite lacking essential evidence to support his comments, he presented Mrs Vicky Miller as the person responsible for the disappearance of a child in one of Australia’s most disturbing and troubling cases.

‘The damage to my clients’ reputation as a result, sir, is so serious and the allegations are so reprehensible, that they have had a detrimental effect on both Plaintiffs.

’As discussed at the outset of this hearing, sir, one of the Plaintiffs… Mrs Vicky Miller, is unable to attend today’s hearing. This is because Mrs Miller recently suffered a heart attack, which her medical practitioner indicates in the letter before you, sir, was the result of extreme stress.

’I point out to Your Honour that Mrs Miller suffered this stress-related heart attack in the two hours after she was forced, under the requirements of a warrant issued by Mr Dawes, to provide a sample of her DNA to the police.

‘As a result of a break down in mediation attempts, I am instructed to take this matter to civil hearing where my client’s will be seeking damages from Mr Dawes and Queensland Police.’

‘What were the plaintiffs’ requests of Mr Dawes in the mediation discussions?’ The Magistrates asked.

‘Quite simple, sir,’ Miles said. ‘All my clients required from the mediation was a retraction of the unfounded and damaging comments published in the newspaper, along with a public apology.’

‘Hardly unreasonable, under the circumstances, Mr Kent…’ the Magistrates said, addressing Dawes’ lawyer.

The lawyer stood. ‘Your Honour… As I explained to my esteemed and learned colleague, Mr Davison…’ he said, gesturing to his left. ’It is our position that my client has not done anything wrong, or illegal.

’He is the lead investigator in a twenty-five year old missing person case… the well documented disappearance of three year old Jayden Evans from back in 1994… It is our position, sir, as the lead investigator, Mr Dawes was qualified to speak to the newspaper journalist.

‘It is a common practice employed by police when seeking community assistance in ongoing investigations. However—’

‘I suggest the Plaintiffs aren’t here today because they question your client’s right to speak to the media, Mr Kent…’ the Magistrate said. ’We both know that we are here because of what your client said to the media… and whether these comments were factual, or defamatory to the Plaintiffs…’

‘That is my understanding, sir…’

The Magistrate waved the back of his hand at the lawyer. ‘Continue, Mr Kent… and stick to what is relevant…’

‘Yes, sir. It is our position that my client cannot be held accountable for the comments published in the West Australian newspaper when he was misquoted and taken out of context.’

‘Is it your position that your client did not tell this newspaper journalist…’ the Magistrate paused to read something in front of him… ‘Ah… Ms Christine Gould… that Vicky Miller kidnapped Jayden Evans back in 1994 and brought him here to Western Australia and raised him as her own son…?’

’My instructions, Your Honour, are my client told the journalist during an interview that Mrs Miller and her late husband were merely suspects in the twenty-five year old case.

’My client shared some of his evidence to show why he believed the Millers were suspects, but at no time did my client allege or otherwise state that Mrs Vicky Miller is the offender and her son Kade Miller is the missing toddler, Jayden Evans. I suggest to the court, sir, these comments were all misquoted as part of journalistic sensationalism to sell newspapers.’

‘I see… Thank you, Mr Kent…’

Miles quickly stood. ‘Your Honour will note in our submission that we have not included the West Australian newspaper, or the journalist, Ms Gould in our defamation writ. This is because after we met with the managing editor of the newspaper, it ran a retraction of the article and published and unreserved apology to my clients.’

Miles sat when Mr Kent stood from his chair. ‘Sir, we contend that retraction and apology was merely a business decision of the West Australian newspaper, after they were running scared and going into damage control, to avoid what we are going through here today.’ He resumed his seat.

Miles stood. ‘Your Honour, during our mediation meeting with the newspaper, the journalist, Ms Christine Gould produced a digital tape recording of the conversation between herself and the respondent, Mr Dawes… Does Your honour have a copy of the transcript from this recorded interview…?’

Chapter 39

I glanced over at Dawes to gauge his reaction, upon hearing about the interview being recorded. I couldn’t help but smile when his mouth fell open.

Georgie placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned in close. ‘How does a cop forget he was being recorded,’ she whispered.

I shrugged. ‘Who knows…?’ I whispered over my shoulder. ‘Maybe he was so focussed on his attempts to solve this cold case, everything else paled.’ Georgie sat back.

The Magistrate fumbled through some papers. ‘Yes. I have the transcript.’

I direct Your Honour’s attention to the opening paragraph, sir, where Ms Gould asks Mr Dawes to introduce himself by name, which he does.’ Miles turns to Dawes’ lawyer. ‘I suggest there is no dispute the voice is that of Mr Dawes…’ he said before continuing. ‘Ms Gould also records Mr Dawes’ comments agreeing to their conversation being recorded.’

‘Yes. I see that…Thank you.’

’I further direct Your Honour’s attention to page three, paragraph two…. where Mr Dawes shows Ms Gould a series of photographs that includes a police digitally aged photo of what the police suspect the missing boy would look like today. In this same paragraph Mr Dawes said, “Jayden Evans now lives in Perth with the family who kidnapped him twenty-five plus years ago.”

‘Ms Gould then asks, “Are you able to say who that family is…?” Mr Dawes replies, “Absolutely… I have uncovered irrefutable evidence that the people who took him are Vicky and Ross Miller. They were originally from a Gold Coast neighbouring suburb to Jayden Evans’ family. Ross Miller has since passed away. After they took him, they renamed Jayden and they now call him Kade…”

’At paragraph six, Your Honour, Ms Gould asks Mr Dawes, “Are you of the opinion the evidence you have in relation to this investigation will sustain vigorous challenges and cross examination in a court trial?” Dawes replied, “It’s a lock… This case is so strong you can put your house on it…”

‘Your Honour should also have a copy of the article in question that was published in the West Australian newspaper…’

‘I do…’

’Your Honour will note that the words Mr Dawes spoke during the interview, as appearing in the transcript, are an exact match to the quoted words published in the newspaper article.

‘It is our position, sir, that the respondent’s claim he was misquoted is without basis. You will further note, sir… Should this matter proceed to a hearing, we will be calling Ms Gould as a witness and she will present her recording of the conversation she had with Mr Dawes.’ Miles took his seat.

The Magistrate slipped off his glasses and leaned on an elbow. He glared at Dawes’ lawyer. ‘I’m somewhat confused Mr Kent…’ the Magistrate began. ‘As to how you intend to present a defence that your client was misquoted when it is more than evident your client made these comments.’

Dawes’ lawyer lifted a finger to the Magistrate. ‘One moment, sir, while I confer with my client.’

‘Make it quick…we have a full list today, Mr Kent.’

The lawyer moved from his chair and slid in beside Dawes. After about three to four minutes that included lots of pointing, waving and whispering, the lawyer returned to the bar table. ‘Sir. I have consulted with my client and we will now be challenging the matter based on a defence of Truth.’

Miles shot to his feet. ‘Which defence is it, sir… First Mr Dawes was misquoted… Now he wants the court to accept his comments were based on fact, thereby being truthful… Your Honour, it is our position that Mr Dawes is wasting our time and that of the court…’

‘I tend to agree, Mr Davison…’ the Magistrate said. He glared at the defence table.

Dawes’ lawyer stood. ’Sir, the comments my client made to the journalist were based on factual evidence he located during his protracted investigation. Therefore,sir, if this matter were to proceed to a civil hearing, we will be claiming the defence of Truth… It stands to reason, sir… My client’s comments cannot be defamatory, if they are truthful.’ The lawyer resumed his seat.

Miles stood. ‘Sir, you will note in the documents filed in our writ, which I understand you have copies of, includes a certified copy of a Western Australia birth certificate for Mr Kade Ross Miller—my client,’ he said gesturing to me. ’Verifying he was born in Karratha, Western Australia on 16 January 1991.

’Also included in the submission, sir, is a number of photographs of what I suggest are typical photographs of proud new parents… in this instance, photos of my client, Vicky Miller, along with some photos of her late husband, holding their newborn son, Kade Miller in the days following his birth.

‘Your Honour will note from these photographs before you that Kade Miller is clearly much younger than the three years of age Jayden Evans was when he went missing… an irrefutable fact in the timeline of events, sir.’

Miles sat down while the lawyers for Dawes presented their evidence to support their position that Dawes’ comments were based on the facts he discovered during his investigation.

None of the evidence presented to the court was conclusive, some was circumstantial at best. But none showed Dawes was justified in making his comments to the journalist, a point Miles reinforced on a number of occasions.

When Dawes’ lawyer finished presenting their facts the Magistrate said, ’I’m afraid I don’t understand why this matter was not settled through mediation, Mr Kent… You have not presented any evidence to support a defence of truth. If your client makes damning and harmful accusations against another person’s character and integrity… he must be able to prove his comments are factual, even more so, when you are relying on a defence of Truth…

‘What about this birth certificate…’ the Magistrate said. He lifted the document from his desk. ’Which is certified as being a true copy of an extract from government maintained records?

‘If you are not in a position to challenge the veracity of this document and at any subsequent hearing it is accepted as tendered… Your defence of Truth cannot succeed.’

‘Sir, we will be challenging the birth certificate…’

‘How do you intend to do that…?’

‘We are currently waiting on some records that once received, will support our position in relation to this birth certificate.’

The Magistrate lifted the Birth Certificate. His voice firmed. ’This is a certified copy of a government record, Mr Kent. How on earth do you intend to discredit it…? Do you have a witness from the Registry of Births Deaths and Marriages who will attest to falsely creating this document, or something…?’

‘No, sir…’

The Magistrate waved the back of his hand. ‘Alright…’ he barked. ’I’ve heard enough. ‘First you try to convince the court that your client was misquoted in the newspaper article. When the evidence before the court demonstrates this was clearly not the case, you change direction and now wish to lead the defence of Truth…’

‘With all due respect, sir…’ the lawyer began. ‘We haven’t changed direction, as such. It is my understanding that both defences were relevant… We just selected the one we considered more relevant. As it turns out, it was the wrong choice, so we amended our defence to a Truth defence.’

‘I’ve heard enough, thank you, Mr Kent. I have no option but to adjourn this matter for hearing. I strongly suggest, Mr Kent that you reconsider your attempts to mediate this case, before it goes to hearing. Because the evidence presented before me today suggests your client may be on the wrong end of a substantial damages payout… I don’t think I can be any clearer than that,’ he said with a firm glare over the top of his glasses.

‘As Your Honour pleases,’ Dawes’ lawyer said.

Chapter 40

Georgie and I waited in the all-but-empty public waiting area of the courts, while Miles met with Dawes’ lawyers for one last attempt to mediate the case down.

The lawyers disappeared into one of the small meeting rooms off to the side of the waiting area, where lawyers often meet with their clients in private.

I leaned my elbows on my knees. ‘So, after hearing all that… What are your thoughts…?’ I asked Georgie.

‘You are right. He’s stubborn, isn’t he…?’

‘It’s got me buggered why he wants to take this to trial…’

‘I think he’s just too stubborn to admit he’s wrong.’

‘See, that’s the thing…’ I said. I sat back in my seat. ’He doesn’t believe he is wrong. He is convinced I am Jayden Evans and he just refuses to let go of that, regardless of the consequences.’

‘It’ll be at his peril…’ Georgie said. ‘The Magistrate made that very clear, didn’t he?’

Ten minutes after entering into discussions, Miles re-emerged. It was difficult to get a read on his expression as he approached. He slid into the seat beside me. ‘That was quick…’ I said, hopeful of a resolution to keep this from any further court hearings.

Miles sighed and slowly shook his head. ‘Both his lawyers recommended Mr Dawes do as we ask and mediate this out by making a full and public unreserved apology…’

‘And true to form… he declined,’ I said, knowing Dawes as I do.

‘Correct. That is despite his lawyers making it very clear, his prospects of winning the defamation case are unlikely.’

‘Unbelievable…’ I looked to Georgie. ‘See what I’ve had to put up with… This guy is unbelievable.’

‘There just doesn’t seem to be any logic to his decision,’ Georgie said.

‘The lawyer for Queensland Police even became quite frustrated. He pointed out that Dawes’ decision was unacceptable as far as the Queensland Police Department is concerned because he will unnecessarily cause a financial impact on the department when the reality is, this case should not be proceeding any further,’ Miles said.

‘Did he say why he is refusing to apologize?’

‘He did. You are Jayden Evans and he will not be convinced otherwise.’

‘Even if it costs him…?’

‘Even if it costs him,’ Miles repeated.

‘So… Rain, hail or shine, he’s taking the defamation case to court…?’

‘He is.’ Miles opened his folder. ‘We have a hearing date of 27 September. That’s…’ He checked his watch. ‘In eight weeks… So he has eight weeks to come to his senses…’

‘Don’t hold your breath…’ I said.

‘Indeed. Anyway…’ Miles stood. He slid his folder under his arm.

I stood as well. ‘Georgie and I are going to grab a bite somewhere… You are welcome to join us?’

Miles checked his watch. ‘Look. Thank you. But I will have to decline. I have a meeting this afternoon and I still have to prepare.’

We parted company on the street at the Court House front steps. Miles returned to his office, while Georgie and I found a café to satisfy our growing hunger pangs.

---

On the way home to mine from the city, Georgie and I called into mum’s to update her on the outcome of the hearing. We both hoped for a resolution, to avoid any further stress on mum. Sadly, that is not to be.

Mum has been home from hospital a little over two weeks. As she grows stronger with every day, she reassures me she is recovered and continues to take it easy.

It wasn’t my choice to burden mum with the court case outcome. If it was up to me, I would be completely screening her from it. But it is not my choice. Mum insisted on me notifying her of the result, irrespective of the outcome, as soon as the case is over.

Using my key I unlocked the front door. Before entering I always push her doorbell, to alert her someone is at the door and to avoid frightening her, if I suddenly appear.

As we stepped inside I hollered my usual greeting down the hallway. ‘Just me, Mum…’ My face tightened when her usual response was not forthcoming. Georgie and I exchanged concerned glares. ‘Are you about, Mum?’ I said while navigating the long hallway, towards the rear of the house.

Flashbacks of finding mum collapsed on the kitchen floor raced into my mind. My breathing quickened. I started to run with thoughts of not again

On the way to the kitchen, we passed the door to the laundry. Mum was in the process of removing gardening gloves, having entered the laundry from the back yard.

I stopped and took a deep breath, while Georgie caught up. ‘Hey, Mum… How are you feeling?’ I said with my own pulse racing.

‘Hi, Darling… I thought I heard the front door bell,’ she said, dumping the gloves into a bucket. As she moved to exit the laundry she stopped and said, ‘Oh… I’m sorry, Georgie. I didn’t see you there. How are you?’ She gently grabbed Georgie’s hand.

‘I’m very well thank you, Vicky.’

‘So… Tell me, Darling,’ mum began. ‘How did everything go today?’ She asked. We made our way towards her family room.

I peeled off into the kitchen to make the coffees, while Georgie and mum continued through to the family room. The breakfast bench in mum’s kitchen overlooks the adjoining family room, so although I was in the kitchen, I was not far away from the conversation.

‘I would have to say everything went as we expected,’ I said.

Mum lowered herself into her favourite leather recliner. Georgie slid onto the leather two-seater opposite. ‘So… In other words… He refused to back down,’ mum said. Surprisingly she didn’t appear disappointed. If anything, she was accepting.

‘Correct. We have a scheduled court hearing on 27 September…that’s in eight weeks.’

‘It was interesting to watch, Vicky…’ Georgie said. ‘I’ve never been to court before today, but what I found intriguing about the process was, the Magistrate made it clear that he did not believe Dawes would win if he tries to fight the defamation case. Yet despite this strong warning… Dawes still elected to defend it.’

‘Miles told us that even his lawyers tried to convince him to drop the defence and mediate the charge,’ I said.

‘Lawyers. Plural…?’ mum said. ‘Did he have two lawyers?’

I shook my head. ‘No. No. One was representing the—’

‘Queensland Police…’ mum said, finishing my sentence. ‘Of course. I forgot about that.’

‘How does that make you feel, Mum…? The upcoming court case, I mean.’

Over my many visits to mum’s I have learned to master her Italian barista-style, ground coffee machine. The enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee beans permeated the room. I handed hot freshly poured mugs of Latte to mum and Georgie, then returned to make mine.

‘If I’m being honest, Kade…’ mum said. ‘I expected it. So there is certainly no shock, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Good to hear,’ I said over the machine’s gurgling steam spout. ‘You have to learn not to let this idiot upset you…’

‘You got to see him first hand,’ mum said to Georgie. ‘I’m curious to hear what you think.’

‘I’d have to say he is somewhat of an enigma, Vicky… and stubborn.’

‘You summed him up pretty well, dear…’ mum said. As I entered the family room with my coffee and a plate of chocolate chip cookies, mum said, ‘did you say 27 September…’

‘Yep twenty-seven September…’ I offered the plate to mum, then Georgie, before placing it on the coffee table. As I slid in beside Georgie, I said, ‘that’s about eight weeks.’

‘I think I should be right by then to attend…’

Those words had not long left mum’s mouth when Georgie and I blurted in unison, ‘you won’t be going…’

Our surprised eyes met over our perfectly timed response. We bumped fists over a laugh.

Mum’s mouth fell open at our synchronized reaction. She grinned. ‘Did you two practice that before you came here, or something?’

‘Took us several hours to perfect too, Vicky,’ Georgie said. ‘How do you think we went?’

‘Convincing.’ Mum grinned then took a sip.

‘Seriously though, Mum… By all reports, if we go to trial on this, Dawes won’t win. How can he? It will probably be a short hearing anyway. So… there is no need for you to put yourself under any more stress over this idiot. Once the case is done, we will be rid of him from our lives forever and you can concentrate on getting back to full health.’

‘Can’t wait…’ she said, punctuating her comment with another sip.

‘Mitch is coming around to mine tonight for a barbie. He’s bringing his new girl, whom we are yet to meet.’

‘Good for Mitch. He’s a lovely boy…’

‘How are you travelling for dinner tonight? Would you like me add an extra steak on the barbie for you and bring it around…? Georgie makes a mean steak marinade…’

‘No. I’m good thanks, Kade. You and Georgie enjoy your guests… I have taken some Salmon out, so I will have that with a lovely Greek salad.’

‘Salmon sounds pretty appetizing as well.’

‘I do have something to ask of you though… But I need you to be honest with me… Tell me if you don’t want to do it …Please.’

‘Why wouldn’t I want to help? What is it?’

Mum clutched her coffee mug in two hands, as though drawing courage from the cup. Her welling eyes flicked from me to Georgie and back to me. She appeared to be gathering her words.

The Nurse in Georgie picked up something was wrong. She moved over and squatted in front of mum. With a comforting hand on mum’s leg, she asked, ‘are you alright, Vicky…?’ Her voice was calm and full of compassion.

Mum’s lips straightened and her jaw quivered. Georgie caught an escaping tear trickling down mum’s cheek.

‘What is it mum…?’

She drew in a deep breath, like someone working up the guts to take their first bungee jump. ‘Please tell me if what I am asking is too much…’ she said.

‘Mum… Just ask… What is it?’

‘It’s something I’ve been putting off for a while now, but it has to be done.’

‘OK…’

‘I have to clean out the walk-in wardrobe…’ she paused and gulped heavily. ‘I think it’s time to parcel up all your father’s things… I think it’s time…’ mum’s eyes welled.

‘But… but I don’t think I can do it…’ Her pained eyes pleaded for my help.

I was very close to my dad. He was more like my best mate than a father. There is not a day goes by when I don’t think of him.

Everything reminds me of him. We built my rear deck together. He came with me providing fatherly advice when I bought my Ute.

I remember how proud he was when we shared our first ‘legal’ beer together at my 18th birthday party in their back yard. There were his life teachings, his hearty laughter and his corny dad jokes. These are all but a memory of the man I miss every day.

Will I be able to box up all his possession? Will I be able to box up his clothes? I honestly don’t know. But I have to. I have to be strong for mum.

I did my best to mask my inner hurt. ‘I understand, mum. You don’t need any more stress. I’ll have a go at it.’ I checked my watch. ‘Do you mind if I leave it to this Saturday afternoon…?’

‘Of course… Whenever you think you can do it.’

‘I can give you hand, if you would like some support,’ Georgie offered.

‘Thanks. I appreciate that. Can I let you know…?’ Georgie nodded her response.

I pointed to mum’s cup. ‘Another one…?’ I said, trying to change the mood.

Mum held out her mug. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’

‘Georgie…?’

‘Thanks, Hon…’ Georgie said, presenting her mug.

‘You do make a good brew. I think you’ve missed your calling…’ She said. She can get away with saying anything when she follows it with that smile.