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  Robin, I hope this all makes some kind of sense to you and doesn’t spook you back. Most of all, I hope I don’t hurt you. I’m not blocking, I’m just needing to move carefully, trying to find a path that doesn’t scare me or make me feel disloyal to Mum, but also recognises you, me, us.

  And then sometimes I think I should just stop thinking and go with the feeling,

  Nice, I think. And then I stop and think and make one more change – a change that changes everything

  All best

  love,

  Susannah

  There I said it, love. Do I love her? I think I probably do. But how does that work? In what way? How can you possibly love someone you have never met? How can you love someone you don’t know? You can’t, can you?

  So, what is it that is drawing me towards Robin?

  Something opens

  Susannah, Monday, 22 September

  Email from Maddy to Susannah

  Hi Susannah,

  I just got off the phone to Robin who said she managed to read your email. She wanted you to know she thought it was beautiful and she loved your openness. She asked me to pass on she loved it so much she wants to take the time to give it the response it deserves.

  I hope you can rest easy while you wait for a reply knowing how much it meant for Robin to receive that letter.

  Feel free to be in touch tomorrow, Susannah.

  Be kind to yourself,

  Maddy

  Robin, Tuesday, 23 September

  So, it was my last letter that spooked her. I thought it was the one before, and the last one was my attempt to correct that. But I never did feel that letter was quite right, despite several drafts. Anyway, clearly something had gone wrong, but thank God she’s back!

  So sad, her feeling she always has to perform for approval. And that awful, irrational guilt – that somehow she’s a Jonah, a bringer of suffering and ill-fate, a curse, not a blessing. What a deception!

  Then in the second-last paragraph, that huge question again: ‘tell me about my birth … tell me how you felt’. She admits she has been dodging it (as have I). Why? The unvoiced fear that just maybe she actually wasn’t wanted, that I was not forced to give her up – that I chose to?

  And my fear is: how will she judge me when she learns that that is the truth?

  The letter Susannah has written is beautiful and brave. How I answer it will be crucial. Lord, help me to get it right!

  This is what I write:

  Email from Robin to Susannah, 11.10 am

  Dear Susannah,

  Thank you for your wonderfully open and honest letter – I really appreciate it.

  Firstly, I want to say that I totally understand your feelings of not wanting to betray your mother and not wanting her place to be usurped in any way. I would feel exactly the same in your place. As I seem to recall saying in my original letter, written so many years ago, a ‘mother’ is someone who raises, nurtures, cares for the child and goes through all the attendant joys and pains of such a role. I was not that for you and I would never presume to encroach on that relationship. I’m sorry if my last email gave that impression.

  Our relationship is something else; it has its own unique reality and significance which we are both in the process of exploring. Although I am not your mother in the all-important ‘lived-out’ sense, I think there are certain common, in-built factors which hold true for any parent/child relationship. For example, as children always are in this world of ours, you were the totally innocent party in the whole un-ideal situation, but you suffered from it anyway, and again, as is so often the case with children, you assumed a ‘guilt’ and a responsibility and an ‘onus of proof’ that never belonged to you. Those feelings of ‘I am not good enough’, ‘I am bound to disappoint somewhere down the line’ and the tension and exhaustion of performance-based acceptance are so awful. As you say, most people harbour some fear of inadequacy (I certainly did), but to be given away at birth undoubtedly would insert the rejection more efficiently. Your phrase ‘good enough to be kept’ is so sad. I’m so sorry for that, Susannah!

  As the adult parent, the responsibility for the situation was all mine, not yours, and you have nothing to prove to me; nor is it your responsibility to protect me from hurt and disappointment.

  However, I can assure you anyway that nothing you might do or not do will disappoint me in the sense of thinking less of you. I would be disappointed if our contact fizzled out, but I would not be disappointed in YOU.

  Just as the negative self-judgement that you were possibly not good enough to be kept is clearly not based on reason (as the little baby has done nothing either good or bad at that point), but is a spiritual and emotional thing, so it is with the bond of love I feel with you for the simple fact that you are my child even though I have never seen you – even as a baby. This bond places no expectations on you and is not dependent on reciprocity. So you’re stuck with that – hope you’re not too spooked!

  You asked for details of your birth, etc., and I want to tell you everything, but can we make it the next installment? That will also be a lengthy epistle and I think a breather is necessary!

  Love, Robin

  Susannah, Tuesday, 23 September

  I cried as I read the letter. Something in me cracked open: it sounds corny but it’s true, it’s the only way I can describe it. I send Robin the link to I Giorni and I write this:

  Email from Susannah to Robin, 12.29pm

  Dear Robin

  Thank you, thank you for your email – I was dreading having to wait. It made me cry in a completely good way.

  Gustav Mahler said, ‘If a composer could say what he had to say in words, he would not bother trying to say it in music.’

  So I wanted to share this piece of music with you, I hope you can play the link – if you can’t it’s I Giorni by Einaudi with the violin by Daniel Hope. I came across it and it has now become inextricably tied to this unique experience of our contact.

  It feels like a morning emerging, with a beautiful but tentative fragility as the violin and the piano dance together – edging forward then receding, then forward again, reaching out and responding, yearning and comforting. And it feels like coming home.

  love,

  Susannah

  Susannah, 24 September

  And then early, too early, the next morning I also write this:

  Email from Susannah to Robin, 4.37am

  Dear Robin

  Thank you again for your letter. I can’t tell you how much it meant. And I’m not spooked, quite the opposite.

  The last couple of weeks have been this ever-swirling mixture of excitement and fear (discombobulated doesn’t begin to describe it) but the strength and clarity of your letter released something in me and let things fall into a different, calmer, lighter place.

  It helped me realise I don’t need the boxes to put people in – a heart has infinite capacity if we let it and loving another person doesn’t diminish the love for someone else.

  I have two mothers that love me, and, as you say I’m stuck with that – or I’m blessed. I think I’ll go with blessed.

  So, at the risk of rushing, that seems a good place to meet from and take another step along this unique path. I would really like to and hope you do too.

  love,

  Susannah

  Email from Maddy to Susannah and Robin, 11.00am

  Dear Susannah and Robin,

  As discussed here is a virtual exchange of your email addresses for you to start communicating directly.

  Maddy

  And then we were off …

  There was a little voice inside me saying Careful, don’t break this. But I couldn’t hear it above the roar.

  IV

  CLICK AND CONNECT

  Click, click, click

  Susannah, Wednesday, 24 September

  Email from Robin, 1.38pm

  Dear Susannah,

  Words can’t express how blessed I feel by the unfolding of our relationsh
ip. It’s sort of feels like a wonderful dream – but actually I know it is the reality of redemption. I am so grateful! Your last email before this one was completely beautiful. I wanted to reply earlier but my deficient computer can’t play the music so I am waiting till I can hear it tomorrow on another one. I am so glad my letter helped and you are right – love is a strange commodity in that the more we give (and receive) the more there is; no-one is made poorer. Yes, you do have two mothers who love you and we are both privileged to have you as our daughter (I suspect your mother and I may have had a few things in common!).

  How can you ask whether I want to continue our walk of discovery?!! As for the risk of rushing, it strikes me that both of us are maybe a bit of the rushing ilk (to use a rather weird expression). I know I can err on the side of rashness versus slow caution. However, we are slowed in our tracks by the fact that I have my 6-year-old granddaughter staying with me and, although delightful, she virtually talks non-stop and gives me very little private space – especially not the headspace you need for something very important. It is something of a miracle that I am succeeding to write this email with relatively few interruptions. (My last long letter to you I wrote in the middle of the night.) I know I can’t write the promised second installment till I have my peaceful solitude again – which will be next Tuesday. I do love you, Susannah,

  Robin

  Email from Susannah, 2.00pm

  Dear Robin

  Part of me is a bit jealous of that delightful six-year-old … so there you go, some evidence that you’re right, I’m indeed a rusher not a caution person. I spend a lot of time wondering if I should try the caution thing some time. Not today obviously so I hope it’s okay I reply so quickly. I have teenagers who spend their holidays flaunting their independence, so I have more space.

  I don’t mind waiting for the ‘big’ letter but might it be okay if we email a little in between, six year olds permitting? I don’t want to spam you but I do want to keep ‘talking’ if that’s okay?

  Love,

  Susannah

  Email from Robin, 6.40pm

  Dear Susannah,

  ‘Delightful six year old’ has been taken out for 1 hour, so here I am. Please don’t think I am fitting you in around the edges. I long to concentrate on this enormous and wonderful turn of events – this newfound relationship with you. To be honest, I am hanging out for Tuesday! It is quite exhausting looking after such a young child for an extended period (remember my relative decrepitude!) – and harder when you have something else you want to be doing – i.e. focusing on you and me. Of course we can talk before Tuesday, but because it is all so huge emotionally, I want to give full attention to our communications – especially when I try to recount the events of 1965. Also, I would love to hear any more details about you and your life that you may care to share.

  Love, Robin

  ps. we are both speedsters, aren’t we?! x

  Email from Susannah, 6.53pm

  Hello,

  I understand, would you prefer to just wait until Tuesday? That’s very mature of me to say that because I would really like to email a little before then but I can pull myself together if you think that’s better.

  Am mindful that I do belt out at things once I think it’s safe and I don’t want to break this by belting.

  Let me know. Is there anything particular about me you want to know, it’s a little hard to know where to start …

  Love,

  Susannah

  Email from Robin, 7.03pm

  Dear Susannah,

  Don’t you dare pull yourself together! I think it’s rather hilarious how alike we are in this belting respect, and we are not going to break anything because neither of us want it to break. So fear not and TALLY HO!

  Love, Robin

  Email from Susannah, 7.09pm

  Funny. Okay then, can you give me a steer on what you would like to know – and I can babble away while you mind granddaughter or recover from same. x

  Email from Robin, 7.11pm

  About your family?

  Email from Susannah, 7.14pm

  Too vague – more help please

  Email from Robin, 7.21pm

  But as I know so little, anything is good. You did tell me about your siblings; what about your husband? Emma and Edvard? With their permission of course. Do you have pets? Just babble as you feel like.

  Email from Susannah, 7.26pm

  Okay – have just cooked Emma’s dinner in a very low-focus way but will attempt good mothering and then babble, if that’s okay. I assume granddaughter (okay, what’s delightful’s name?) will be back soon and need her grandmother, so just to manage my expectations do you think that will then be it for tonight? X

  Email from Robin, 7.33pm

  Great. Yes, Aziza will be back in full force soon. Maybe if she goes to bed not too late, I will get another email off tonight. If too tired, will definitely manage some reply to babble tomorrow. X

  Email from Susannah, 7.39pm

  Can’t find a photo – really. One of my life goals is not to be in photos – it nearly killed me having to have the author pics you can see on the website.

  Good luck with Aziza, what a good grandmother x

  And then over three emails I babble on about my family …

  Email from Susannah, 7.59pm

  hello again

  You still haven’t been very helpful about where to start but here goes, with apologies in advance for babble (are you sure I can’t break this?).

  Husband. Oskar. Incredibly good-looking Swede. Our marriage is, we joke, a one-night stand that just got out of control but 22 years later we’re still together.

  He is annoying because he doesn’t seem to age while I do – I suspect it’s those Nordic genes but it feels like we are living The Portrait of Dorian Gray.

  So anyway, we met at a Christmas party. Emma hates this story because it shows the fragility of fate and the ‘what if?’. Oskar had arrived in Australia, backpacking, a month before and met up with two other Swedes, one of who (whom?) knew a family in Melbourne. They bought an old car and meandered down the east coast ending up with said family and said family’s mother instructing older son to take Swedes to Christmas party – which he grumpily did.

  Cut to Christmas party.

  I have a friend, Sally, who was, is, excellent at loving life and she announces – ‘I have discovered there are three Swedes at this party and I think we should each have one for Christmas!’ (You have to tell if I offend you.) She tells me which one she has selected and I look at the others and, I promise, I still remember looking at Oskar and thinking, that one, definitely.

  Anyway, I spend a lot of time trying to be interesting and interested and, hurrah, he has a girlfriend, coming to meet him in Byron Bay. How excellent! So I stop being interested and probably interesting and wish him well.

  But then he keeps appearing at Christmas parties (we are 23, just out of uni and I am back living at home because I am broke) and then, badly (of him, not me, I was single) we share a moment, an extended moment.

  I am definitely thinking it’s a one-night stand (too much to tell you? – please let me know) but what a lovely boy and I really must go to Sweden when two weeks later I get a call – can he come back to Melbourne?

  Well, yes he could and he did. We spent three completely unrealistic months together and then he returned to Sweden. Ten months later I got on a plane to bring him back here. On paper, a ridiculous decision but we’re still here.

  Okay, that’s a sampler. I need some guidance here if you are up for this. Mum used to talk, mostly affectionately, about my ‘oppressively high spirits’ and I don’t want to inflict them on you or completely disobey the wonderful Maddy who has counselled to go slow.

  x

  Email from Susannah, 9.02pm

  Okay, last babble mail – I really am slightly scared I will over-belt and break this.

  Do you want to see any photos of when I was younger? As part of me trying to work
through stuff when I received your photo (thank you – not sure I said that because I was too busy being spooked) I made up a composite of your photo, my photo now, and two when I was a child. Maybe it seems strange but it actually comforted rather than confronted – but that’s me, it may not be for you.

  Robin, I’m really aware I have just belted away tonight and I hope that really is okay. I have to say it’s felt very natural and I am lucky enough to be able to bat my family off so I can focus on this – six year olds are not so easy but, once again putting my heart out there, perhaps just let me know it’s been okay, or not. X

  Email from Susannah, 10.46pm

  Make that second-last babble – and not withstanding my fear that I have over-babbled …

  As I was waiting up to see if you might reply tonight (my problem, not yours, sorry) I wondered if you understood when I said we seemed in a good place to meet I meant physically meet? For me, it seems the next step in making things concrete and part of real life. I confess I find thinking about it (which I have a lot these last days) both exciting and scary but much more exciting than scary and I am much more scared of it not happening than it happening.

  What do you think?

  Robin, I assure you, I am not this needy normally but this is, as you say, so emotionally huge so I am pretty stripped bare and vulnerable, trying to balance safe with honest but ending up just stripped back.

  I hope you slept well, ready for a lovely day with Aziza x

  Susannah, Thursday, 25 September

  Email from Robin, 1.27am

  Hello – here I am at 12.50am, courtesy of a toilet visit. Aziza came back bearing Roses chocolates and we watched Singin’ in the Rain for the second time today. I ate six chocolates straight off, ‘rewarded’ by horrific sight in mirror later. (I have been too slack with my diet lately – too much temptation with things bought for kids in the house, and I am already definitely fatter than in those photos I sent you.) I fell into bed at about 9.45 and was almost instantly asleep.