by Cassie Hamer
She tapped the screen.
I’m coming.
Ellie will be okay, she told herself. You saw her at the carnival. She’s happy. She’s safe. Lisa Wheeldon is doing everything you would do. Maybe more.
She flipped the phone shut and stepped forward into the carriage.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sitting in the café and sipping a cappuccino, Lisa could almost pretend it was a normal Thursday afternoon. Except that it wasn’t, because any minute, she was expecting her private investigator (even the idea of it made her choke a little on the froth) to turn up, and that made it a galaxy away from being a normal Thursday afternoon.
She tugged on her shirt. ‘Do I look all right?’
Heather rolled her eyes. ‘This isn’t a job interview. You’re asking the questions, not him.’
‘But, seriously, is it okay?’ She loved this shirt. Midnight blue, with faint white stripes, it was one she’d worn when she used to work in the city, before Ava. It was her ‘client’ shirt—the one that made her feel crisp, and efficient for external meetings. Now, it was too tight across the boobs and one of the buttons seemed perilously close to popping.
Heather looked more closely and put her head to the side. ‘You look like a naughty secretary. The whole button-popping thing is a little bit sexy, in a Benny Hill kind of way.’
‘Mummy, I’m thirsty. Where’s my babycino?’ Dramatically, Jemima spread herself across Lisa’s lap. Heather flinched at the touch of the little girl’s fingertips against her black lycra-clad thigh.
‘Don’t you have an iPad or something?’ she said irritably.
‘Scott and I have decided to limit their screen time,’ said Lisa, trying desperately to minimise the piousness in her voice, but ultimately failing as she battled to stop Jemima from up-ending the table with her feet.
‘Oh, here. Give her my phone. If your husband finds out, you can blame me.’ Heather handed over the sleek device. ‘Don’t drop it, kid.’ She held her finger in front of Jemima’s face and the little girl cowered. With her oversized sunglasses, all-black exercise attire and long arms and legs, Heather resembled a human-sized blowfly.
‘I won’t,’ she promised, and located a game with a speed that both appalled Lisa and made her feel slightly vindicated.
So much for the people who say children need a device so they don’t get left behind.
Heather drummed the table. Speakeasy was different at this time of day, 2 pm, just before school pick-up. There was no dreamboat barista for a start, just an older woman who seemed more interested in cleaning down the coffee machine than actually making any coffee with it.
‘Ah, here he is.’ Heather beamed.
Lisa had been expecting someone shadowy, slick. Maybe with a hat. Perhaps not a trench-coat—that would be a little too clichéd—but someone with at least an element of danger or intrigue about them. Not this guy, with his white linen pants and baby-blue shirt. He was more Miami Vice than James Bond.
‘Hey, gorgeous, great to see you.’ Jeff kissed Heather easily on the cheek and sat down. ‘How’s Henry?’
‘Oh, you know. Still travelling.’ Her laugh had a high trill.
‘I can cover him again, just say the word?’ Jeff raised his eyebrows. ‘Anything for my favourite client.’
Lisa looked from Jeff to Heather. What was going on here? The last thing she’d expected was a flirtatious PI! If anyone had reason to worry about infidelity, it was surely Henry! An investigator was supposed to clarify matters, not muddy them.
‘So, Jeff, as I explained on the phone, Lisa here is looking for a woman who goes by the name of Missy Jones.’
‘Jones?’ Jeff raised his eyebrows.
Lisa chimed in. ‘That’s what her daughter calls her. But you’re right, we don’t actually know for sure. I have a physical description, and her address written down for you, along with Ellie’s date of birth, or what she thinks it is.’ She passed over the piece of paper on which she’d conscientiously typed out everything they knew. ‘And I also have this.’ She handed him the letter from Missy.
‘Can I keep this?’ He held it up.
‘No, I need that back, just in case.’
Jeff pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of Missy’s letter. ‘Never had a case like this before,’ he mused, studying the writing.
‘Do you think you can find her?’ Lisa put her elbows on the table.
‘Of course I can. Just ask Heather here. She knows all about what I can do.’ He gave Heather a wink and Lisa got the distinct feeling of being more unnecessary at the table than a fifth leg.
Her bag was vibrating. Lisa fished out her phone while Jeff and Heather continued to make eyes at each other.
‘Mrs Wheeldon. It’s Jane Valentic.’ Principal Valentic?
Lisa covered the mouthpiece. ‘I have to take this,’ she whispered urgently, knocking the table in her haste to get up.
‘Is everything all right? The girls? Are they okay?’ The words tumbled out of Lisa’s mouth.
‘Ellie and Ava are fine, but there has been … an incident, relating to behaviour.’
‘What kind of incident?’
‘It would be best if we discussed that in person.’
‘Of course, I’ll be there in a minute.’
Lisa hung up and threw the phone into her bag. ‘C’mon, Jems. Time to give Heather’s phone back to her.’
‘Nooooooo … I don’t want to.’
‘Jemima! Now!’ said Lisa sharply.
‘What’s happened? What’s the great emergency? We’re in a meeting, remember.’ Heather placed her hand on Lisa’s arm.
‘Something’s happened at school. I don’t know what … Something about their behaviour. That was Principal Valentic on the phone.’ Lisa was breathless, trying to get the words out.
Heather nodded efficiently. ‘I’ll finish up here. You go on ahead.’
‘Thank you.’ Lisa offered her hand to Jeff. ‘I’m sorry to go … It sounds like you know what we need. Send me your invoice when you can … and … um … I can’t think of anything else.’
‘Leave it with me, Lisa,’ he said in a deep, reassuring voice. ‘A couple of weeks. I’ll find her.’
As Lisa tried to stride towards the school gates, Jemima clung to her leg like a limpet. ‘Carry me, Mummy. Pleeeeease. I can’t walk. My leg hurts. See.’
Lisa fought the urge to snap at her daughter and instead leant down to inspect.
‘Darling, I can’t see anything.’
‘There.’ She pointed to a blemish-free piece of skin and Lisa leant in more closely. ‘There’s BLOOD!’
Finally, Lisa spotted it. A tiny scratch and a speck of blood so miniscule that even the strongest microscope would have struggled to detect it.
‘Darling, I think you’ll survive,’ Lisa said solemnly.
‘I need a bandaid,’ Jemima moaned.
Lisa felt in her pockets. They were normally a treasure trove of children’s detritus—hair bands, tiny plastic figurines, a bandaid or two (her daughters had unquestioning faith in the healing powers of a sticky-strip). Of course, today, they were empty.
‘I’m sorry, darling. I don’t have a bandaid.’
‘Then carry me.’ Jemima lifted her arms weakly.
Lisa sighed. Carrying her youngest born was like carrying a wriggling baby elephant. And she didn’t have the energy.
‘I can’t carry you, darling. Mummy’s feeling a bit sick.’ True. Sick with worry. Lisa went to stride away.
‘Nooooooo!’ Jemima attached herself to Lisa’s leg.
‘All right, honey.’ She hoisted Jemima onto her hip and scurried towards the school gate, with her daughter’s hair tickling her neck.
Nearing the school reception area, Lisa spotted Ava and Ellie, arms slung about each other and heads bowed.
Like sisters already.
But as she shifted Jemima onto her other hip, she could see that both girls were crying. Ellie seemed to be the most upset, with Ava talking to
her animatedly.
‘What’s wrong, my darlings? What happened?’ She leant down and Jemima immediately climbed out of her arms to cuddle Ellie’s leg.
‘Xanthe was being mean to her all day.’ Ava patted Ellie’s shoulder and Ellie nodded sadly in confirmation.
‘She says my mummy doesn’t love me and that’s why she left me.’ Ellie hiccoughed as a crack opened up in Lisa’s heart.
‘Darling, you know that’s not true. Come here.’ Lisa opened her arms and Ellie fell into them, sobbing.
‘She says I don’t even have a real mummy.’
Lisa squeezed her even harder, wishing desperately in that moment she had some magical power that could conjure Missy Jones out of thin air.
‘Sweetheart, you know you have a mother.’ Lisa took Ellie’s hands and looked her directly in the eye. ‘And she loves you very much. She’s just had to go away for work, remember? That’s all. You’re just staying with us until she comes back, and we’re so happy that your mummy chose us to have you. Now!’ Lisa turned her attention to Ava. ‘Honey, did you do something to Xanthe?’
Ava nodded. ‘I bit her on the arm.’
Lisa gasped. ‘Oh, no. Darling, we never bite people. Even when they’ve done something really, really bad.’ Biting was the biggest playground crime a child could commit. She knew from experience that mothers tended to completely freak out, as if the bite might carry a rabies infection. Everyone knew there was only one thing worse than being the victim of a chomp—it was being the mother of the chomper. The guilt was extreme.
‘Is this your child?’ The voice came from a blonde woman. A woman Lisa recognised. Oh no! What was Kimberly doing here? It must be her Xanthe. Oh bugger bum!
‘Yes, this is Ava, and I’m Lisa, if you remember from the other day … from uh … the café, and the carnival.’ She thrust out her hand, hoping the friendly approach might defuse the situation. ‘You’re Kim, right?’
‘It’s Kimberly, as a matter of fact.’ She stood with her hands on her hips. A little girl, her face bookended by pigtails, peeped out from behind Kimberly’s legs and poked out her tongue.
Like mother, like daughter.
‘My apologies, Kimberly. I’m so sorry but it seems we have a little problem between our girls.’
‘You call biting a little problem? I call it a big one. Your Ava drew blood. Look!’ Kimberly thrust forward Xanthe’s arm and pointed at it. Lisa peered in the direction of her finger. The ‘injury’ on Xanthe’s arm was as microscopic as Jemima’s leg graze.
‘Hmmm … I see,’ said Lisa noncommittally.
‘I demand your daughter apologise.’ Kimberly folded her arms.
‘Well, I’m sure Ava’s sorry for what she did,’ Lisa said neutrally, ‘but she was somewhat provoked by what Xanthe said to Ellie.’
‘All she said was the truth,’ Kimberly spat out. ‘The child,’ she pointed at Ellie, ‘has a mother who dumped her. Now what does that tell you?’
Lisa clapped her hands over Ellie’s ears and felt pure, hot anger rising into her throat. How could a woman, another mother no less, say such horrible things in front of a poor, innocent child like Ellie? Let alone put her at risk by saying them within earshot of the principal!
‘Now, you listen to me.’ Lisa shook her finger. ‘Ellie’s mother has more love in her heart than you’ll ever know and just because she’s not around to show it at the moment doesn’t even matter, because I’ll tell you what. I AM!’ Lisa roared.
‘Ladies, ladies. What’s going on here? Lower your voices. Please!’ Principal Valentic put herself between Lisa and Kimberly, stamping her stiletto. ‘My office. Now!’
In the corridor outside the principal’s office, Lisa rested her aching head against the cool cement. Following Heather’s lead, she’d given her phone to the girls, who were happily watching a video of an American woman opening toys and playing with them. It was quite bizarre, the things that kept little girls entranced, but it was G-rated and Lisa was too stressed to care.
A low murmur of voices emanated from inside the principal’s office but Lisa couldn’t make out any distinct words. Kimberly had been in there for fifteen minutes now. What could they be talking about? Was the principal trying to appease Kimberly? Were they decrying Lisa’s parenting skills?
At school, Lisa had been a model student. Solid grades. Always attentive and helpful. She knew the rules and stuck to them. Not because she necessarily believed in them. Some seemed downright silly—like the ban on brushing hair in the street. What was that about? How did the public maintenance of one’s appearance bring the entire school into disrepute? No, she didn’t quite understand the rationale for all of the rules but she stuck to them religiously. It was fear that made her obedient. The mere idea of detention or a visit to the principal’s office was enough to send her stomach into nervous spasms. Beyond anything, she hated disappointing people—and she knew how disappointed her family and teachers would be if she broke the rules, even the stupid ones.
Now, having successfully avoided the principal’s office for thirty-eight years, she found herself in the very situation she had dreaded. But if the death of her parents had taught her anything, it was that following rules didn’t always keep you safe. Occasionally, life just reared up and bit you where it hurt, no matter how well behaved you were.
Finally, the door opened.
‘Mrs Wheeldon, please come in. The girls can wait outside.’
Xanthe dawdled out the door. She’d obviously been crying, given the red rash around her eyes, and Lisa’s heart gave way. ‘Why don’t you sit with the girls and watch the video?’ Lisa patted the seat next to her.
‘Yeah, Xanthe, come and look,’ said Ava, shuffling along the seat to make room.
Kids. They could forgive and forget so easily.
Not like parents.
As Lisa took a seat in the principal’s office, she glanced sideways at Kimberly, who looked like she was sucking on a sour lemon lolly. She seemed transfixed by the Aboriginal dot-painting on the wall and refused to meet Lisa’s eye.
‘Ladies.’ Principal Valentic placed her elbows on the desk, fingertips touching. ‘May I remind you of our school policy regarding discipline. At St John’s, vigilante justice by either students or parents will not be tolerated. We do not take matters into our own hands. Am I making myself clear?’
‘Yes, Principal Valentic,’ said Lisa dutifully.
‘Kimberly?’ said Principal Valentic.
‘Yes,’ Kimberly snapped. ‘Go on.’
‘Right.’ Principal Valentic put on her glasses. ‘This matter does present … peculiar challenges, posed by Ellie’s delicate … uh … situation, with her mother being in absentia to care for her own mother.’ She gave a sympathetic smile and Kimberly shot Lisa a look.
Please don’t say anything! Please! Hate me all you like but don’t sell Ellie out.
Lisa squeezed her thighs together. Kimberly opened and shut her mouth, and the principal continued. ‘However, the fact is, we cannot accept violence of any kind towards another student—’
Lisa cut in. ‘I’ve spoken to Ava, and she’s very sorry for biting Xanthe. I’ve explained that she cannot bite anyone, whatever they say, and she understands that. It won’t happen again, I promise you.’
Lisa took a deep breath to assess the reaction to her mea culpa. Principal Valentic nodded her approval. Kimberly sat stony faced.
‘Excellent,’ said the principal. ‘And she will of course apologise to Xanthe.’
‘Of course,’ Lisa agreed, thinking that at that point she would probably have agreed to anything in order to get her precious daughter back in the principal’s good books. That was the thing about children—their suffering, their pain, was always shared pain and suffering. If Ava was in trouble at school, Lisa felt it too. And it was the last thing she wanted for either of them.
‘As for Xanthe,’ the principal began. ‘She understands that what she said to Ellie was wrong—’
‘Although
true,’ said Kimberly under her breath but just loud enough for Lisa to hear.
‘Did you say something?’ asked Principal Valentic.
‘Nothing at all, Jane. Please go on,’ said Kimberly, waving her hand dismissively.
‘Right, well, as per our restorative justice policy, Xanthe will also make an apology to Ellie. Does this approach satisfy everyone?’
‘Yes,’ said Lisa straight away.
Kimberly sighed. ‘Let’s just get on with it.’
The girls trooped in to the principal’s office with heads bowed and shoulders slumped. When Principal Valentic spoke, they lifted their chins and gave her their full attention. Ava went first and delivered such a heartfelt and sincere apology to Xanthe ‘for making her arm hurt so badly’ that Lisa thought she might cry. Ava finished her speech by throwing herself into Xanthe’s arms and clinging to her tightly. ‘I’m really, really sorry and I’ll never bite you or anyone again, even if you say really mean things.’
My sweet, sweet girl.
Then it was Xanthe’s turn.
‘I’m very sorry that I made you cry, Ellie. But Ava used to be my best friend, and now she’s your best friend and that’s made me feel very sad and upset.’ Xanthe paused and looked to her mum for support but Kimberly was too busy inspecting her cuticles.
‘Ellie, your mum is probably a really nice lady,’ Xanthe went on, fidgeting at her zip pocket. ‘But she never comes to pick you up, so I don’t know …’ she trailed off.
‘She is a really nice lady,’ said Ellie. ‘She’s the best.’
‘Do you miss her?’ said Xanthe.
‘I do,’ said Ellie. ‘I just want her to come home.’ Her voice started to quaver.
‘I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.’ Xanthe looked in alarm to her mum, then Principal Valentic, then Lisa. ‘Did I say something bad?’
‘No, sweetie. No.’ Lisa rubbed Ellie’s back. ‘She just misses her mum. That’s all.’
‘Right then. Are we done here?’ Kimberly grabbed for Xanthe’s hand and looked expectantly at Principal Valentic.
