by Cassie Hamer
‘Yes?’
‘Do you know a parent by the name of Missy Jones?’
‘Missy who?’
‘Jones. Missy Jones. Mother of Ellie in kinder.’
‘Never heard of her. Who’s asking? What’s she done?’
‘Well, nothing … yet,’ Lisa stammered. ‘It’s just that Ellie’s here at our house and her mother hasn’t come to pick her up.’
‘Oooh, slack mummy. I’ve never met one of those at St John’s. How dreadful!’
‘I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.’
‘Probably, darling. But it really has been the party from hell, hasn’t it?’
‘The kids enjoyed it,’ said Lisa mildly.
‘Of course they did. Of course they did. Though Savannah was a touch disappointed by the lack of party bags. Anyhoo, let me know how you go finding this mysterious Missy Jones.’
‘I will.’
After five minutes and four more calls to fellow class mothers who denied all knowledge of Missy Jones, the dollop of dread in Lisa’s stomach had grown into a huge boulder. Where could this woman be? Who could she be? And as one of the mothers had brusquely pointed out, was Missy her real name or a nickname?
She trudged back down the hall to Jamie and Scott’s expectant faces.
‘Nothing,’ Lisa said miserably. ‘No one’s ever heard of Missy or Ellie. It’s like they appeared out of nowhere.’
‘Just so strange.’ Scott scratched his chin while Jamie’s gaze turned slowly from Scott back to Lisa. She held up her finger.
‘Wait right here!’ Jamie ran to the French doors. ‘Ellie, babe. Can you come here for a moment?’
Obediently, Ellie trotted to the door and Jamie put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
‘Hon, what school do you go to?’ Jamie bent down to look into her eyes.
‘I don’t go to school,’ said Ellie simply.
‘Okay, sweetie.’ Jamie paused. ‘Have you ever gone to school or pre-school?’
‘Nope.’ Her eyes brightened. ‘But I want to. I can read and everything,’ she said proudly.
‘Well that’s impressive,’ Jamie squeezed her shoulder.
Ellie doesn’t go to St John’s? Why didn’t Ava say so? How was it that a five-year-old could recite all the character names from their favourite TV show but not even know their own classmates?
Lisa felt her knees weakening. If Ellie didn’t go to St John’s, how did she know about the party? Lisa had printed precisely thirty-three invitations—thirty-two for the class and one for Jamie. Who was this girl? Where had she come from?
As if reading her mind, Jamie knelt down. ‘Hon, can you tell me where you live?’
‘I live at 64 Abner Road, Daceyville,’ Ellie recited.
Lisa knew the street, it was only a suburb away from their place. Where Randwick still boasted a few character homes, Daceyville was slightly newer. A little more industrial. Fewer trees, but otherwise a perfectly normal place to live.
‘Clever girl, Ellie.’ Jamie gave her a quick hug. ‘Now, how about you go back and play with the girls?’
‘Okay,’ said Ellie and off she trotted into the backyard where Ava was still trying to master her new rope.
‘I’m taking her home,’ said Scott, striding towards the sideboard where his car keys were normally kept.
‘Hon, let’s just think this through,’ said Lisa.
‘What is there to think through? We know where she lives, let’s take her back there.’
‘But we don’t know what we’re taking her back into.’
Scott stood with his hands on his hips. ‘Then let’s call the police.’
‘Not yet,’ said Lisa.
‘Then what?’
Lisa tried to think clearly but her brain was a muddle of thoughts and feelings. What would make a mother do this? Why had she chosen them? How must poor Ellie be feeling? And how had Ellie’s father died? He must have been quite young. Is that why Ellie had reacted so strangely to Scott in the bathroom?
‘I’ll take her.’ Lisa said the words with more confidence than she felt.
Scott shook her head. ‘Lise, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You yourself just said that we don’t know what we might find over there.’
‘He’s right, you know. You don’t know what kind of crazies these people might be,’ said Jamie.
‘I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine,’ Lisa corrected herself. ‘That note sounded to me like a mother who loves her daughter very much.’
‘Enough to abandon her?’ snorted Jamie.
‘Jamie, if there’s one thing I know about parenting it’s that a mother would never willingly leave her child. Never.’ Lisa’s eyes started growing hot at the very idea of a total stranger taking Ava or Jemima by the hand, feeding them, bathing them, kissing them goodnight.
In caring for Jamie, as her guardian, she’d had a taste of how it felt to be responsible for another human being. But Jamie was fifteen, able to (largely) fend for herself. When Ava was born, the midwife had placed her into Lisa’s outstretched hands and whispered ‘There you go, Mum’. In that instant, Lisa realised that she was, in a way, lost forever to a love that would have no bounds. Parenting her own child was a more intense thing altogether. This was her own flesh and blood. Entirely defenceless and vulnerable. Metaphorically and literally, she could never let go of this little human, so much so that in the early months Scott had complained, jokingly, that he would never be able to tweeze his eyebrows as they were the only feature by which Ava would be able to recognise him. With a start, Lisa realised it was true. Scott was always hovering at her shoulder, eyebrows waggling, waiting his turn for a cuddle. But there was something so primal and instinctive in the way she loved her girls. She loved them because they were hers. And Scott’s, of course. No one else could ever love them or care for them in the same way, because they were not theirs. It was as simple and complicated as that. Now, she had been asked by another mother to care for a child who was not her own. It could be done, but should it? This woman had to be incredibly desperate. Perhaps there was another way in which Lisa could help.
‘I’ll take her back.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘It was me she wrote to.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Scott.
‘I have to do this.’ Lisa clasped Scott’s hand. ‘For whatever reason, Ellie’s scared of you—’ Scott went to speak but Lisa squeezed his hand. ‘I know it’s unwarranted, but put yourself in her position. She’s only five.’
‘Actually, she’s six.’ Jamie put her hand up, attracting a glare from Lisa. ‘She told me in the bath. She’ll be seven in September.’
‘Well, she’s still very little and no doubt very afraid and I think it has to be me that takes her home.’
Scott paused and looked at the floor. ‘I don’t like this.’
‘I don’t either,’ said Jamie. ‘And didn’t you just have a glass of wine?’
‘Only a sip,’ Lisa protested. ‘I’m fine to drive.’
‘I’ll come with you then.’ Jamie moved to collect her bag.
‘No, you stay with Scott. He might need an extra pair of hands if anything … you know, happens here. I’ll be fine. Seriously.’ She nodded at both of them in a way that she hoped was reassuring. ‘I’ll take my phone and ring you as soon as I get there.’
Scott reached for the keys in his pocket and dropped them into Lisa’s hand. ‘As soon as you get there—I mean, before you’re even out of the car—I want a call from you and then you leave your phone on as you walk into that place. I want to hear everything.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
In the car, Ellie was subdued but Lisa filled the silence with chatter about tooth fairies and TV shows that the little girl might have seen. Lisa’s best conversations with her daughters tended to happen during car journeys. It was probably something to do with the lack of eye contact and the fact that Lisa was usually distracted by the act of actually driving to pay too much attention to what they were saying. Tr
ue to the contrariness of children, the half-heartedness of the whole situation seemed to spur them into dropping the occasional gold nugget of information. But not Ellie. She answered Lisa’s questions politely but offered nothing beyond what was being asked. Yes, she had lost a tooth. And yes, the tooth fairy had come and left her $2. No, Tinkerbell was not her favourite TV show. She didn’t really like television. Actually, they didn’t even own a TV. Or an iPad.
No TV and no iPad. The mind boggled. Though Lisa hated the idea of filling her children’s sparkly brains with mush, she couldn’t really imagine life without it—so powerful was its hold over the children with its ability to settle fights (If you don’t give Jemima the Barbie, there’ll be no iPad for a week!), offer comfort (There, there. Will your ouchy feel better if we turn on the TV?) and generally provide Lisa with a few minutes of peace and quiet each day. She was careful to follow the recommended ‘doses’ (no more than two hours’ screen time per day) but couldn’t quite imagine getting rid of it altogether. Was Ellie’s mum one of those enviable women who never tired of Play-Doh and Barbies? Oh, how Lisa would have loved to be that perfect mother! She resolved to cut back Ava and Jemima’s screen time to thirty minutes per day.
‘This is it.’ Ellie sat up in her seat and craned her neck to get a better view out of the window. They were in front of a maroon-brick bungalow that had an air of benign neglect. Two-foot high weeds sprouted from the front wall, which had developed a drunken lean. The blinds were drawn, like closed eyelids. Lisa’s heart sank. Either the house had not been lived in for a long time or its occupants had lost the will to administer basic maintenance.
‘Are you sure this is it, honey?’
‘Yes. We live out the back in the granny flat.’
With the unclicking of the seatbelt, Lisa felt her spirits rise. There was still hope. Perhaps the house was suffering neglect but that didn’t mean the granny flat was too.
‘It’s up here.’
Lisa followed Ellie’s pale legs up the driveway. The child moved quickly, matching Lisa’s own rising excitement levels. Out the back was a double garage, in the same auburn brick as the house. It had clearly been converted—the roller door removed and replaced by two rectangular window frames, all in fairly decent condition compared to the house. Ellie stopped and turned to Lisa. ‘Mummy said she was leaving today, so I don’t think she’ll be here.’
‘Let’s check anyway, shall we?’
Ellie knocked. ‘Mummy, Mummy. It’s me. I’m back from the party.’
Silence.
This time Lisa knocked. ‘Hello, is anybody in there? It’s Lisa Wheeldon. And I have your daughter, Ellie.’
Silence. So much silence that Lisa felt sure she could hear her own heart pounding. Remembering Scott’s insistence that she call, she reached in her pocket for her phone.
Damn. Empty.
She knocked again and waited. Never had she wanted so much for a door to be opened. For a face, any face, to greet her and tell her that everything was okay, that it was all a misunderstanding. That she, Lisa Wheeldon, had not been caught up in what was starting to feel like one of the strangest experiences of her life, second only to the night the police had come knocking on their door to break the news about her parents.
‘I told you she wouldn’t be here,’ said Ellie neutrally. ‘Let’s just go back to your place.’
‘Hold on, honey. Let’s check through the windows.’
Ellie sighed. ‘There’s nothing in there. We packed it all up last night. Mummy says we’ll live in a new place when she comes back.’
Lisa felt a cold chill wrapping around her stomach.
‘Let’s just see, shall we?’ Even to herself, Lisa’s voice sounded falsely bright. She took Ellie’s hand and led her to the window where, thankfully, the curtains had been left open.
The place was empty. Lifeless. So clean that it was almost creepy, as if Ellie’s mother had tried to remove all evidence of their existence.
Ellie stood on her tip-toes and balanced against Lisa. ‘See. I told you. Can we go now?’ She slipped her hand into Lisa’s and started pulling her away. But Lisa’s eyes remained glued to the window and she resisted Ellie’s pull. It was as if she was witnessing a car crash. Time had slowed. Everything was beyond her control. It was like that dream she sometimes had, where she was in the car with her mum and dad as it slipped off the road and careered towards a towering gum tree, the trunk of it appearing as a headless ghost in the glare of the car’s headlights.
‘Just one more minute, darl.’ She gently pulled Ellie to the window again. She blinked hard and took another look, hoping this time that she would see chairs, a table, pictures on the walls, a kettle and maybe a toaster.
Nothing. Her eyes had not deceived her. There was truly nothing to see.
They trudged back to the car.
‘Who lives in the house, honey?’ Lisa paused with her fingers at the lock.
‘No one. It’s empty.’
This time Lisa didn’t even bother to check, for she knew the little girl to be telling the truth.
CHAPTER NINE
The pub was cranking and Jared couldn’t wait to get out of there. It was seven hours since he’d left Jamie, and his morning coffee with Tom had somehow turned into lunch, which had become Sunday afternoon drinks with a bunch of their workmates. The young, single ones. Now, pooling in Jared’s stomach was an uneasy mix of coffee, salt and pepper squid, beer and something else that he’d been struggling to put his finger on. Something he rarely felt. Guilt.
‘Oy, Silver, your round, dickhead.’ Tom held up his empty beer glass.
‘I got the last one.’ Silver (real name: Sterling) protested. ‘It’s Cinders’ turn.’
Cinders (real name: Ashley. Ash. Cinders. Geddit?) nodded glumly. ‘Um, fellas, I’m a bit short this week.’
‘Mate, you’re a lawyer in a top five firm. You ain’t short. You’re tight.’ Tom grabbed Cinders by the collar. ‘Admit it, you’re a tight-arse.’
‘All right,’ said Ashley in a tone of resignation. ‘I’ll go to the bar. Same again?’
‘Yup. Four schooners, mate. None of that cheap middy crap,’ said Tom.
I really should leave now.
Jared had been here so many times before. Many, many more times than these boys. It was that point in proceedings where things slipped from being fun and jocular, into being messy and drunken. Besides, he really needed to see Jamie. Really, really needed to see her. There was something nagging at him. Something he needed to tell her.
He checked his phone. No messages. No calls.
‘Oi, big J, put that away. You’re not going anywhere so don’t even think about it,’ ordered Tom.
‘What? I’m just checking my messages!’
Tom shook his head. ‘You attached people are all the same. Always checking up on each other.’ He put his hand on his chest. ‘If I ever get a girlfriend who checks up on me all the time, please shoot me.’
‘I think that’s highly unlikely,’ said Jared.
‘Damn straight.’
‘Because you’ll never get a girlfriend.’
Tom was an idiot, which is why he was still single. And he was completely off the mark about Jamie. She didn’t keep him on a tight leash. That was something Jared really dug about her. She never checked up on him at all. She was cool like that. He felt a sudden urge to be near her.
Under the table, he tapped out a message.
Hey, are you still at your sister’s? J
‘So what’s your missus think about the Dubai situation?’ Tom took a swig from the fresh beer that Cinders had placed before him.
‘She’s cool with it.’
‘She going to go with you, or will you do the long-distance thing?’ Tom sniggered. ‘Like that ever works.’
Actually, we’re getting married.
‘We haven’t worked it out yet.’
Why couldn’t he say it? Maybe it was because he was still getting used to the idea. This morning, h
e had woken with no idea that by the end of the day he would have a fiancée. But there it was. He felt good about it. Basically pretty good. Maybe he acted cool, but the lawyer in him did feel its significance. This was a commitment, a contract they were entering into.
Quite frankly, he’d expected her to choose her job over him. Not that he wanted to break up. Not at all. Jamie was an awesome woman, smart as a whip and smokin’ hot as well. Occasionally, a small part of him wondered what she saw in him. But that was only a small part, and the thought was relatively rare. He knew he was a decent catch as well. Or, he could be.
‘You know what, boys? I’m going to call it a day.’ Jared stood from the table amid cries of protestation.
‘Don’t go now …’
‘Geez, you’re a softie …’
‘You’ve still got half a beer.’
Jared drained his drink. ‘It’s been fun, boys, but I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’
‘See ya, J,’ they chorused as Jared slipped into the crowd.
‘You’re going to fucken love Dubai,’ Tom shouted after him.
As Jared stepped out of the pub into the narrow Paddington street he breathed a sigh of relief. The quiet was a welcome contrast to the din of inside. Either he was getting old or pubs were getting louder. Neither was great.
Jared’s phone bleeped.
Hey hon. Still at Lise’s. Been a bit of a hiccup here, so might be a while. Xx
Jared thought for a second before typing.
Can I come over?
The reply was almost immediate.
Of course! Love you to.
Jared slipped on his helmet and started up his Vespa. Jamie called it his ‘mid-life crisis motorbike’. But Jared was only thirty-five, and most of the time felt no older than twenty-five, that is, until he hung out with actual twenty-five-year-olds like Tom and Ash and Sterling. It was then he realised he really was growing up, and it kind of sucked.
Jared whizzed through the streets of Paddington, past the rows and rows of little terraces. It really was a great place to live, with a pub on almost every corner and work only a five-minute scoot away in the guts of the CBD.
