by Cassie Hamer
‘Yes, you’re free to go.’ The principal stood. ‘Let’s hope our next meeting is under happier circumstances.’
Without a word to Lisa, Kimberly marched out of the office, dragging her daughter behind her. But at the door, Xanthe broke free of her mother’s grasp and ran back to give Ellie one last hug.
‘I really am very sorry.’
‘It’s all right,’ sniffed Ellie.
‘Xanthe!’ called Kimberly from the hallway. ‘Xanthe-Sienna. You’d better get here right now. Or you’re going to be late to ballet. And you know what Miss Victoria is like if you’re late. Now, where’s Madison?’ She tapped her foot.
Miss Victoria couldn’t be half as scary as you.
After one last hug, Xanthe flew out the door. ‘Coming, Mum,’ she bellowed.
Ellie and Ava looked at each other and giggled.
‘Right then, girls. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Principal Valentic stood behind the desk, knuckles on the table.
‘Goodbye, Principal Valentic. May god bless you,’ they chanted before proceeding out the door, with Jemima trailing behind.
Lisa collected her handbag and headed for the door.
‘Oh, Mrs Wheeldon, just one more thing,’ called Principal Valentic. ‘I hope you understand—children will be children.’
‘Yes …’ said Lisa uncertainly. What was the principal getting at?
‘What I mean is—I suspect this won’t be the last time we meet in this office. Once children perceive something different about one of their peers … Well, let’s just say that children can be very cruel.’
Not to mention parents.
Lisa crossed her handbag across her body. ‘I think as long as we’re proactive and nip any negative comments in the bud—’
‘I know you’re doing your best.’ The principal’s eyes suddenly softened. ‘But I’ve worked with children for twenty years.’ She paused. ‘Ellie deserves the truth … about her grandmother … and her illness.’
The truth? That wasn’t the truth. How could she possibly tell Ellie what was really going on? That she’d been abandoned? That would crush her, and make Lisa no better than Xanthe. Besides, there was more to the story. There had to be. But she couldn’t tell Principal Valentic that, and she certainly couldn’t tell Ellie either.
Lisa walked out of the school in a daze, trying to process what Principal Valentic had said, while the three girls hopped about her like rabbits.
‘Look, there’s Xanthe and her mum,’ called Ava, pointing down the street.
Lisa’s breath caught in her throat. The last thing she wanted was to come face to face again with Kimberly. Fortunately, they were now too far away for that possibility. As the girls prattled away, Lisa kept her eyes on the mother and her two daughters. Madison trailed behind, while Xanthe slumped in Kimberly’s arms—head buried in her mother’s skinny neck and her hands moving up and down Kimberly’s back in a gentle, stroking motion. After a few strokes, Xanthe kissed her mother’s shoulder. The way Kimberly shimmied and shook her head, Lisa could tell she was irritated by the touch and was telling her daughter to stop. Xanthe buried her head again. This time, motionless.
Lisa felt tears springing to the fore. How could Kimberly be so mean?
Principal Valentic was right. A mother could do the worst—and still be loved by a child. But at some point, the child deserved the truth.
When Jeff finds her. When we have good news. That’s when I’ll tell Ellie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Missy took a breath and stepped out of the train carriage and onto the platform. Every muscle and bone in her body ached from a journey that should have taken ten hours but had turned into fifteen. Fifteen hours of tossing, turning and pacing. Thoughts racing. In the end, she’d given up on sleep and watched for the kilometres to tick by. The lights in the carriage had dimmed, and if she concentrated hard, beyond her own reflection, she could pick out the occasional farmhouse in the distance. A glow of lights that suggested a small township. At 6 am, there had been an announcement. The train would be stopping for ten minutes in Taree. Missy took the chance to stretch her legs and use the toilet. It was grim. Paper everywhere. Wee on the seats. A disposal bin for needles next to the soap dispenser. Re-boarding the train, she passed a collection of passengers huddled on the platform and smoking furiously. Then, the train went nowhere and the ten-minute stop became a five-hour delay for some unspecified mechanical issue.
At least Ellie wasn’t with her.
Missy yawned and stretched. She was here now, later than anticipated, but still, she was here, right on dusk.
She breathed deeply and took in the sky, all pinks and oranges and soft as sherbet. There was salt in the air. A sharp, vinegary smell. Craning her neck, she glimpsed the ocean beyond the train tracks and, rising up in the distance out of the water, the mountainous Muttonbird Island where the shearwaters flocked every spring to nest and raise their young before setting off again for the 4000-kilometre flight to the Philippines for mating. Missy’s stomach turned. Home.
‘Bye-bye.’ It was the child she’d spoken with at the start of the trip. Behind, her mum stepped heavily out of the carriage.
‘Bye-bye, sweetie. I hope you get to see that dolphin.’
‘I’ll give it a cuddle for you,’ she said seriously.
‘I would love that.’ She knelt down and offered her hand for the little girl to shake. ‘Thank you.’
And with that, she was gone, trailing behind a mother weighed down with candy-striped plastic bags and, Missy surmised, the burden of having wrenched a child away from everything she knew and loved, into an entirely new and uncertain world. But one she had to believe was safer. Definitely safer.
‘You okay, love? Taxi rank’s that way if you need it.’ The station master, hands on hips, stood before her.
‘No, I’m fine. Someone’s meeting me.’
‘Homecoming, eh? Nothing like it. No place like home.’ He winked and headed back inside the ticket office.
No place like home.
Missy shivered and started walking. They’d agreed to meet at the park near the jetty. It would be quiet there now. Just a few joggers, a couple of surfers and the occasional fishing trawler heading out for the nightly catch. She’d messaged about arriving late.
As Missy neared the meeting point, her steps started to quicken.
There. Over on the park bench near the kids’ playground. The back of that head. The angle at which it sat. The hair—a little more grey than she remembered. But still, it was nearly as familiar to her as Ellie’s.
‘Mum!’ Missy couldn’t help herself. She ran, dropping the suitcase out of her hands. At the bench, she fell into the arms she knew and loved so well.
‘Missy, love. Let me look at you. Gawd, I’ve missed you.’ Terri leant out and her eyes appraised her. ‘You look absolutely knackered.’
‘I’m okay.’ Missy sat beside her mum. Definitely a little older. A little heavier. Wrinkles she hadn’t noticed when they said goodbye six years ago. But still—that same smell. The smell of her. Missy couldn’t even begin to describe it. Just like every home had its own distinctive scent, so too did her dear old mum. It was home.
‘Did you make sure you weren’t followed?’ asked Missy, looking about nervously.
‘Missy,’ she scolded. ‘I’m not a fool.’ She took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Where’s Ellie? Is she all right?’
‘She’s fine,’ Missy confirmed. ‘For your own sake, it’s better you don’t know where, just in case …’ she trailed off.
Terri squeezed again. ‘I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re worried about. You got photos?’
Missy produced her phone. ‘Here.’ She started flicking through images. Ellie eating spaghetti with a big tomatoey grin, riding her bike with legs splayed out from the pedals, kicking a soccer ball with intense concentration.
‘Oh gawd, when did she get so big?’ Terri said in wonder. ‘She’s an absolute doll, Miss. An absolute bloody doll.’ Her
mum wiped her eyes. ‘Every night, I say a prayer to whoever might be listening.’ She raised her eyes skyward. ‘And I pray with all my heart that I get to see my baby granddaughter, at least one more time before I die.’ Terri started to weep quietly.
‘Oh, Mum,’ said Missy, burying her head into Terri’s shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry. You don’t know how sorry. I stuffed up so bad.’
Terri sniffed, wiping her nose with a tissue. ‘Now, don’t you go saying silly things like that, my girl. It’s not you that’s to blame. It’s him.’ She spat out the words with venom, anger taking over her sadness.
‘He’s been around?’
‘Once. Said he just wanted to talk to you. I told him I had no idea where you were and that if he came around again, I’d call the police.’ She stopped suddenly and dropped her eyes, fiddling with the tissue.
‘What?’ asked Missy. ‘What else happened? You need to tell me, Mum. I need to know what I’m up against here.’
‘The bastard took her photo. The one you sent on her fourth birthday. I had it framed and being the bloody idiot I am, I had it near the front door and the bastard took it.’ Terri curled her fingers nervously against her thigh.
So he knows what Ellie looks like …
‘Okay,’ Missy nodded, trying to hide her own growing unease. ‘Anything else … Mum?’
‘When he left, I watched him …’ she began nervously, still unable to meet Missy’s gaze. ‘I watched him right to the car … and … and I saw it.’ She stopped again.
‘Saw what, Mum. Please.’
‘I think … I think he had a gun,’ she whispered. ‘Down his back … I saw it through his shirt … That shape.’
Missy sat back, her mind spinning. They were all in grave, grave danger. A gun?
‘Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry.’ She buried her head in her hands.
‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.’ Terri clutched her arm. ‘Miss, it’s you I’m worried about. It’s too dangerous. You shouldn’t be here. Go back to Sydney. It’s a big city. He won’t find you. You and Ellie are safe there.’
Missy shook her head violently. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No, no. I can’t just sit there and wait for him to come and find us. I have to know what he’s up to. I have to work out what to do. How to protect us.’
‘What about the police? Maybe they could help?’
Missy gave her a look. ‘Yes, because they were so great last time,’ she spat out the words and felt immediate guilt as Terri recoiled. ‘Sorry, Mum, it’s not you I’m cross with … It’s just … it’s not like he’s actually done anything yet. He hasn’t really threatened us. You didn’t actually see the gun. What could they arrest him for?’
Terri dabbed her nose. ‘So what are you going to do, love?’
‘I’m going to watch him. See who he’s hanging out with, whether he’s gone straight back into it. Try and get something concrete that I can give to the cops as a tip-off. Get him put away again.’
Terri nodded. ‘Okay … okay.’ From under her cardigan, she produced a roll of bills. Missy tensed. It had to be at least three grand. ‘This is everything I’ve got, darl. But it should at least keep you going for a few weeks.’
‘Mum, please, no. You can’t.’
‘I can,’ she said firmly, pressing the notes into Missy’s chest and looking round furtively. ‘Take it, quick, before anyone sees; and I’ve rented a car for you, just like you asked—over in the parking lot.’ She inclined her head and pressed the keys into her daughter’s hands.
‘I won’t let you down.’ Missy pocketed the cash and wrapped her arm around Terri in a tight, fierce hug.
‘Ellie,’ Terri whispered. ‘Don’t let Ellie down.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jared drummed his fingers against the table and looked about the café. ‘So what’s this guy’s name? The celebrant?’
‘Peter.’ Jamie checked her phone. ‘Peter McCluskey.’
‘Hope he’s not late to the wedding.’
‘He’s not late. Yet. We’re early.’
Jared had rearranged an appointment with one of his most important clients for this meeting with the celebrant—something he rarely did. ‘I’ll give this guy two minutes. Then I’m out of here. All right?’
Jamie nodded and went back to her phone. They’d agreed to meet at a café that was exactly halfway between both of their offices, leaving them both equally inconvenienced. For a Tuesday morning, it was quiet. At 10.30 am, the morning buzz had dropped off. Most city workers would now have eyeballs glued to their computers, or be seated around oversized conference tables for meetings. That’s where Jared wanted to be. Wedding planning was not his thing and he couldn’t quite understand the joy that women got out of it. Jared didn’t mind organising a party. That was fine. That was great! Food, booze, music—terrific. Like that little thing he’d organised in their courtyard for Jamie—that was fun to put together, even though she’d come home too late to really enjoy it. But weddings were different. They seemed to come with a much longer and more tedious list of things to organise. Jared just wanted to get married and get out of Sydney. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kid. Ellie. Whenever he least expected it—during meetings, out cycling, shaving in the morning—her face would pop into his head and a chill would settle over his stomach. Was she the child, he thought? Could she be? Surely she wasn’t?
He simply couldn’t bring himself to answer. He couldn’t even complete the questions in his head! And he sure as shit wasn’t brave enough to talk about it with Jamie. If she found out, she would dump him for sure. And he wouldn’t blame her. If they could just hurry up, get married and get out of Sydney, he might have a chance of getting away with it all.
‘Do I even need to be here?’ Jared finished his cappuccino and fidgeted with his phone.
‘Yes. Peter said you had to come. There are papers to sign. Official ones.’ Poor Jamie. She looked stressed and Jared knew he was being a prick. So far, in the ten days since the proposal, he’d successfully dodged all the appointments—for flowers and cake and string quartets—all the stuff he really didn’t give a shit about. The least he could do was be a bit grateful. Show a little interest. Or she might start to think he didn’t want to get married at all. It was weird—he’d gone from being ambivalent about getting married, to suddenly really wanting it. He got it now. He’d taken Jamie for granted, and it had taken the prospect of losing her to make him wake up and smell the fucking coffee.
‘How about another coffee?’ said Jared. ‘My shout.’
Jamie’s eyes brightened. ‘Great! Skim cap, thanks.’ She smiled, and Jared felt like even more of a prick. It was so easy to make her happy.
‘I’ll order.’ As Jared went to stand, Jamie grabbed his hand and pointed at a man in a suit walking towards them.
‘That’s him,’ she whispered to Jared. ‘The coffee can wait.’
Jared followed her gaze. ‘He looks like a fucking real estate agent,’ he hissed. In Jared’s experience of weddings, which was growing lengthier by the year as mate after mate said goodbye to bachelorhood, celebrants fell into one of two categories: middle-aged ladies in flowery dresses who waxed lyrical about the power of love, or second-hand car salesmen-types like this guy, who spoke like they were doing the hard-sell on marriage. Where were the magisterial types? Why couldn’t a wedding celebrant simply be a person of gravitas and uncomplicated sincerity? If Jared could have been bothered, he would have looked into getting a judge to do it. In the end, though, he figured it didn’t really matter who married them. As long as they ended up with the right piece of paper at the end of the ceremony, the piece of paper that said they were legally married, it didn’t really matter which clown presided over the ceremony. Just as long as he or she was qualified to do it.
‘Just give him a chance.’ Jamie stood and straightened her skirt while Jared jammed his hands into his pockets.
‘Jamie?’ The man in the suit raised his eyebrows.
‘Peter McCluskey. Call me Pete. It’s a pleasure to meet you both. And congratulations on your engagement.’ The celebrant stood formally, with his hands by his side, reminding Jared of an undertaker standing by a coffin. ‘May I be so bold as to take a look at the lovely ring that I spotted on your hand, Jamie?’
She held out her hand and Peter whistled. ‘Woo-ee, she’s an absolute beauty.’ He winked at Jared. ‘Set you back a few pay packets, eh, Jared.’
Ugh. What a bozo.
As they sat down, Peter signalled for the waiter and Jared leant to whisper in Jamie’s ear. ‘I fucking hate this guy.’
‘Shh. He’s all I could get at short notice,’ she whispered back as Peter inspected the menu.
Jared held up a finger. ‘One chance,’ he mouthed.
‘Well, hello, fine sir,’ Peter boomed to the approaching waiter. ‘It’s a cappuccino for me.’ He looked at Jamie and Jared. ‘And for the lovebirds?’
‘Skim cap for me,’ said Jamie brightly.
‘Nothing for me,’ said Jared.
Peter went to hand back the menu but held it mid-air. ‘On second thoughts. Let’s upgrade that cappuccino to a mugaccino.’ The waiter scribbled down the order. ‘Nothing like living dangerously, eh,’ he said with a wink to Jamie.
‘Oh god,’ Jared groaned under his breath as Peter cleared his throat.
‘Now, let’s roll the tape back to the very start of this epic love story.’ He put his palms flat on the table. ‘I want details. How you met. Your first kiss. His special ticklish spot.’ He pointed at Jared. ‘And her favourite Hugh Grant movie. Details, people, give ’em to me.’
‘Well, um,’ Jamie muttered. ‘There’s not a lot to say.’
‘Of course there is. Every wedding comes with its own, unique love story. And I want to know YOURS!’ He pointed with two hands and two fingers in the pistol position.
Jared gave Jamie a look. Where did you get this guy? He had a vague recollection of Jamie sending him a link to McCluskey’s website, which he’d probably deleted. Big mistake.
