Free The Spanish Helmet by Greg Scowen

father.’
‘Thanks Leigh. Could you put together a file on them and get it across to me ASAP?’
‘I’ll get it done this arvo.’
Hemi disconnected the call and turned the car around. Driving back past the house, he glanced briefly at the front windows. Who are you? He put the car into second gear and sped away. He had some more research to do.
     
      * * *
     
Matt stood, glued to the doorstep, transfixed by the young woman looking back at him. She was beautiful. So familiar. It was a strange feeling.
‘Ah, excuse me?’ She interrupted his thoughts.
‘S... sorry.’ Matt stammered for the first time he could recall and realising that he had ignored her when she opened the door, he added, ‘I was expecting somebody else.’
‘Oh.’ She looked almost deflated. ‘Maybe I can point you in the right direction?’
Matt was unsure if it was worth taking this any further. Oh, what the hell . ‘I’m looking for Andy Robertson.’ Matt rushed the words out. ‘This was the last known address that I found for him.’
‘Andy Robertson?’ She looked concerned. ‘What do you need him for?’
‘He’s my father, I’ve come to find my father.’
The woman trembled and steadied herself by grabbing the door frame.
‘Matthew?’
Matt was stunned. Who was this woman? How did she know his name?
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t believe it. All these years.’ The shock on her face eased into a calm smile. ‘I’m Nadine, your half-sister. You’d better come in.’
All of a sudden the familiarity registered with Matt. Her deep brown eyes, the broad nose, the dimples that formed with her smile. It was like a feminine reflection in the mirror. Matt followed her into the house in a state of absolute shock. He had a sister. Matthew Peter Cameron had a sister. You might as well have just presented him with a million pounds, he was so stunned.
‘How old are you?’ Matt asked, realising too late that this wasn’t the time or place.
‘I’m thirty-two, a couple years younger than you.’
Someone just handed Matt another million pounds. He sat down on a chair at the dining table without asking. If he hadn’t he might have fallen over.
‘But that means…’ Matt wasn’t sure he wanted to think about what it meant.
‘We have a lot to catch up on. I can tell from your reaction that you knew nothing about me, but I’ve heard about you my whole life. Have you got time for a coffee?’
She spoke Matt’s language. Not a tea drinker. ‘I’ve got all day.’
‘Good. I’ll tell you everything I know before I take you to meet Dad. That will make things easier for everyone.’
‘He’s alive?’ Matt stood up. ‘I’d just assumed…’
‘Yes,’ Nadine said, pushing him gently back into the seat with her trembling hand. ‘But he’s not the man he used to be and he’s probably not the man you expect him to be either.’
‘What do you mean?’ Matt asked. He felt transparent.
‘If you don’t know about me, chances are you don’t know anything about your father, right?’
‘Of course I know nothing about him, he walked out on us when I was a four.’
‘He didn’t walk out.’ Nadine corrected him like a disappointed school-teacher. ‘He was pushed.’
The emotions swirling around in Matt’s head overwhelmed him. What did she mean he was pushed? His mother had told him for years that his father had walked out. Just not returned from one of his trips to New Zealand. It couldn’t really be any other way, could it? He blurted out his story a little uncontrolled. ‘He went to visit his parents. Every year. When I was four, he didn’t come back.’ Fighting back tears now. He didn’t know how to confront this. At the same time, he didn’t want to appear weak.
‘Dad isn’t perfect,’ Nadine said, handing Matt a box of tissues, to which he nodded without taking one. ‘He loved Grandma and Granddad though, and he came to visit them every year. On his second visit, he met my mother and--’ she paused ‘--he fell in love for a