Four generations of women, linked by blood, parted by fate.
Eva Kawolska - the Polish war widow. Eva escapes the devastation of occupied Poland and brings her child to the promised land of Australia.
Terenza Rhodes - the deserted child. Raped by her uncle, Terenza flees her home town and journeys across Australia during the heady days of rock 'n' roll.
Emma West - the good girl. Brought up to believe herself an orphan, Emma is shocked to discover her mother may still be alive.
Philippa Freedom Darcy - the lucky one. The legal barriers are down… but can she mend the links and reunite her family
"Is there anything you particularly wanted, or is this just a duty visit?"
Philippa took a deep and visible breath. "I want you to apply for your birth certificate."
"I've already told you I'm not interested in all that," Emma said.
Her daughter sat down on the path. "I know that, Mum, but I'm interested. I'd like to find my other granny if I can." She smiled suddenly. "Don't say no—it would be great exercise for my research skills."
"You apply and get it then," Emma said waspishly.
"I did. I can't. Not unless I murder you first."
"My God!" Emma felt an unaccustomed smile tugging at her own cheek muscles. "So you're going to kill me if I don't play ball?"
"Yep. That's about it. Matricide."
Emma shook her head. "All right then. If you insist. But I don't want you springing any little surprises on me, Philippa. I don't want you arranging any cozy little reunions. Is that quite clear?"
"I'll do it then. And now you've got what you wanted, you can put away the knife."
"I already have. But Mum? There's just one more thing."
"You have to attend a counseling session before they'll release the information. . . That's the law if you apply from Tasmania."
"My God! As if I haven't seen enough bloody counselors!"
"It's only to make sure you can take being rejected if she doesn't want to meet you," Philippa soothed. "Nothing sinister."
"I don't want to meet her. I told you that."
"Well—don't tell them that, for God's sake. They'd think you were weird."
Emma smiled wearily. "Don't worry, Philippa. I’m an alcoholic. Alcoholics are very clever when it comes to saying what counselors want to hear."
"Really. You see—” Emma leaned forward. "It gets them—and other people—off our backs