She walks back towards Minna and the boys. She’s looking all around. Behind her, up over the car park, down towards the lake.
‘Can’t find her.’
‘Did you look properly? You were only away a minute. She’s probably playing with Sophie. Did you go over to where the Pattersons were?’
‘No.’
‘Liam, you and Jonny finish the packing up. Put everything in the bags. Everything, okay? Don’t leave stuff hanging around. God, we’ll never make it to the supermarket at this rate. Steph, you come with me.’
They walk towards the lake. The Elliot kids are still there, running in and out of the shallows.
‘Was Gemma here? Have you seen Gemma?’
They look up, shake their heads. ‘No. We didn’t see her.’
They go over to the Muldrews. Jim Muldrew’s squatting down, picking up bottles and paper plates, putting them into a black polythene bag. He ties the top, squints up at Minna.
Minna smiles. ‘Wouldn’t you know it? Gemm’s gone AWOL just when we’re going. Have you seen her?’
Penny Muldrew glances up. She’s stacking left-over bacon and egg pie into a Tupperware bowl. She pushes the top down with her thick freckled fingers to squeeze out the air. ‘Not in the last hour or so. We’ll keep an eye out, Minna, and if you see any of mine send them back over here.’
Minna looks around. ‘Steph, you try down by the changing sheds again. Ask the guys on the barbecue. I’ll find the Pattersons.’
‘That’s where she’ll be,’ Penny Muldrew says, smiling.
Stephanie walks more quickly this time. She passes Casey Wilson on the track and he turns and stares after her. The sky’s darkening, there are clouds blooming up thick and shadowy over the lake and a wind’s sprung up; the pines are black and flapping. Almost everyone’s gone, there’s just a couple of kids left picking up the cricket gear and putting it in the van.
‘Have you seen Gemma?’
They shake their heads. ‘Nuh.’
She starts back towards the barbecue. She imagines Gemma, hanging around the men, sniffing up the smells of onions and fat and sausages, taking it all in.
‘Has Gemma been here?’
‘Gemma? No.’
Stephanie stands beside the tables. They’re covered with white paper smeared orange-red from the tomato sauce. She sees her mother beside the ice-cream van. She’s stopping people. Stephanie can hear her asking have you seen Gemma?
Stephanie hurries over. ‘Mum? I can’t find her.’
Minna’s face is flushed. ‘Where is she? Dammit, where’s she got to?’
‘Gemma’ll be all right, won’t she?’
‘Course she will,’ Minna snaps. ‘It’s just like her to wander off the exact minute we have to go. Did you look for Sophie? Probably they’re hiding somewhere. Those two are always up to something.’
‘I thought you were going to ask the Pattersons.’
‘I couldn’t find them. You see if you can. You go up to the car park and I’ll check down by the lake again.’
This time Stephanie runs. She sees the Pattersons’ green station wagon. It’s moving slowly out of the car park, just about to pull onto the track leading out to the main road. She sprints towards it, calling out, waving at them. Mr Patterson stops and winds down his window.
She’s puffed, can hardly get the words out. ‘Is Gemma—? Have you seen Gemma?’
She peers into the car. Sophie’s lying asleep on the back seat. Her face is bright red and her thumb is in her mouth.
Mrs Patterson dips her head forward and leans across her husband towards Stephanie. ‘We haven’t seen her for a while, love. She might be with Kylie, though. Sophie’s not herself, maybe coming down with chickenpox. It’s going around. Tell Minna, won’t you? If Sophie’s got it, Gemma’s sure to be next.’
Stephanie stares into the back seat. She was sure Gemma would be with Sophie, she was so sure she expects Gemma’s face to suddenly pop up, cheeky and grinning.
‘Mrs Patterson, we can’t find her.’
Mrs Patterson looks sharply at Stephanie, her eyes concerned, but Mr Patterson starts rolling up the window. ‘Sorry, Steph, but we have to get this little one home. Don’t worry, she’ll turn up.’
Stephanie runs back to Minna. ‘Mum, I can’t find her. She’s not with the Pattersons.’
Minna moves closer to the lake, her eyes dart up and down, staring out over the water. ‘Gemma,’ she calls, ‘Gemma.’
‘Did you look beside our car, Mum? Shall I go and look there?’
Minna’s face is edgy, pale. ‘I’ve already been there,’ she says, ‘Christ. Christ, where is she?’
Mr Peters has stopped scraping the fat off the barbecue and he’s watching them. Stephanie remembers how he and Mrs Peters came over to their place for Dave’s birthday and the Pattersons were there and Mr Black and the Muldrews and Lisa. All the adults were drinking wine and Stephanie was allowed to stay up late to watch movies with the other kids who came with their parents. Some of them went to sleep on the floor but Stephanie stayed awake. When it got very dark she went to the window and looked out. Minna was dancing with Mr Peters under the fairy lights. She was laughing a lot. Then Mr Peters’ head moved in closer to Minna and she was still laughing with his face up close against her face, still laughing while she listened to what Mr Peters said. But then her head jerked back and she stopped dancing, stopped laughing and went inside into the kitchen.
Mr Peters comes over. His face is puffy and red and there are little shining balls of sweat on his forehead. Stephanie can smell beer and the fat from the sausages.
‘Haven’t found her yet?’ he says.
‘No,’ Minna says. ‘No. Bob, I’m getting worried.’
She gazes frantically around. Up towards the black, flapping pines, across the lake with the clouds above it starting to pack together, the sky bruised with grey and yellow.
‘I don’t know where to look next,’ she says. ‘Oh God, where is she?’
Mr Peters has his arm around Minna. He’s telling her it will be okay, to just calm down, kids wander off all the time, she’ll turn up for sure. He calls out to the other guys, grouped around the barbecue, finishing the keg. ‘Hey, there’s a kiddie gone missing. Gemma. Gemma Anderson.’
They come over and crowd around Minna. They all know what Gemma looks like but she tells them anyway and her voice sounds thin and high, like she can’t quite catch her breath to say the words she’s got dark hair, long dark hair, it’s tied up, a bobble with a pink butterfly on it. She’s got blue shorts on and her yellow T-shirt, it’s got Mickey Mouse on the front. Oh God, what else, what else? Shoes? Her shoes? Pink? Her pink sandals, Stephanie, weren’t they?
The guys say they’ll find her, have her back in no time now you just sit down and don’t worry, don’t worry, Minna. They’re calling out to all the other dads, for everyone to come and look. Someone’s on the loudspeaker could everyone please pay attention, we’ve got a little girl lost, if anyone’s seen Gemma Anderson come over to the picnic tables.
Stephanie stands beside Minna, her eyes straining across the stones, up across both arms of the lake as far as she can see. Her body is aching for just a glimpse of a yellow T-shirt, bobbing shiny hair tied up with a pink butterfly.
We need someone to look over there, you guys do up by the road and you ones do the lake. We need people over at the pines and while you’re at it do the car park and check in all the cars.
Mrs Peters comes over. She comes right up close and folds her fat, dimply arms around Minna don’t worry hon, they’ll find her. She says Minna needs a cup of tea, there’s plenty left in the thermos. But Minna shakes her off, shakes her head. She’s motionless, staring out into the lake, gripping onto Stephanie’s arm and her grip is so intense Stephanie can feel Minna’s hand shaking.
Mrs Peters says what if she takes the boys, could she take Jonny and Liam home and give them their teas? Minna nods yes, all right. Mrs Peters says kiddies are always wandering o
ff, by the time she’s got the boys home and got them their teas Gemma’ll be back and no harm done. Mr Peters says someone should get Dave.
Then Stephanie takes off. She’s running, running as fast as she can. Past the men huddled around in groups, past Nick Baker, not caring that her face is really hot, not caring that she’s making funny noises, gasping, snuffling, starting-to-cry noises. She’s running like she never runs any more now she has breasts and they jiggle, she doesn’t care about anything except finding Gemma.
Into the pines, through the car park, up onto the road, down to the lake.
Gemma. Gemma. Gemma. Gemma. Gemma.
Her voice is harsh and hoarse and her heart hammering so hard it hurts. It’s all around her. Gemma. Calling it. Shouting it. Screaming it.
Gemma. Gemma. Gemma. Gemma. Gemma.
The mothers are trying to get Minna to sit down, they’ve brought a folding chair over, someone’s brought brandy in a hip flask from their car and they’re trying to get her to drink a little bit to help calm her down but she won’t and she’s crying out for Gemma to come back find her please oh God oh God where is she?
Dave drives up in his car, right up on the stones to the barbecue, and when he gets out he looks cross, like he does when his work’s been interrupted at exactly the wrong time for something that’s not important. But when he sees Minna’s face, when he hears what Mr Peters is saying to him, when he looks over at the men by the lakefront, staring out into the water like they don’t know what to do or where to look next, his face turns colourless and afraid.
‘Has anyone called the police?’
Mr Jackson comes in a police car. Stephanie knows him from school. He comes every year to talk about drugs and traffic rules and stranger danger. He stands there talking to Minna and Dave and Mr Peters and the other men and Stephanie wants to yell right at him don’t just stand there talking you’ve got to find Gemma where are the tracker dogs we need helicopters we need more police cars do something do something.
Some of the men have taken their boats out and they’re trawling slowly across the lake. It’s still light enough to see but not long now and the sun will go down. They have to find her before that happens. Gemma can’t be left out here on her own in the night. She hates it in the dark, she has to have her night-light on. They have to find her.
They make Stephanie go to Mrs Peters’ place. Even though she wants to stay, even though she knows she could find Gemma in the end if they’d just let her stay and look and she’s telling them over and over Gemma always comes to me, she might’ve been hiding and now she’s too frightened to come out in case she gets into trouble, if she hears me calling she’ll come. But Dave and the men say she has to go.
Mrs Peters says not to say anything to Jonny and Liam, they’ll only start fretting. She tries to get Stephanie to eat. ‘Spaghetti bolognaise,’ she says putting the plate down in front of her. It’s grey mince with cheese melted into lumpy tomatoes, yellow-orange sludge running into the side of the plate, and Stephanie feels like she’s going to gag, feels sick rising up in her throat like she’s going to throw up right there onto the table.
‘I’m not hungry.’ She whispers it.
Mrs Peters says not to worry, they’ll find your sister, maybe there’s been some mistake, Gemma’s gone home with someone else and they’ve forgotten to say. But Stephanie knows that wouldn’t happen and she can tell from Mrs Peters’ face she doesn’t believe it either.
She doesn’t want to be here; the Peters’ house smells disgusting, like fried onions and window cleaner and she doesn’t even like Mrs Peters. She’s never liked Mr Peters or Mrs Peters either, and now she’s got on that kind of face adults get when they’re pretending to be hoping for the best but they’re actually feeling important being in the centre of something terrible.
Stephanie sits on the couch rigid with waiting. For the phone to ring, for someone to come through the door, for someone to tell them it’s all a mistake and Gemma’s okay. But nothing happens. Jonny and Liam watch TV and they laugh over and over, really loud and stupid, like they do when Minna says they’re over-excited and they bounce up and down on the chairs and hit each other. Mrs Peters doesn’t tell them off. She gives them cakes and ice cream. She keeps going to the ranch slider, pulling back the white curtain with lace at the bottom and peering out. Sheers. That’s what those curtains are called. Sheers. Minna laughs at people who have sheers. Oh, where is Gemma? What’s happening and where is she?
Stephanie sits on Mrs Peters’ couch patterned with the ugly brown-and-white squares and she waits, her arms folded tightly around her ribs. Her body is filled with this feeling she’s never had before, this aching, suffocating feeling of dread. In the end the boys stop laughing, stop bouncing and hitting, stop asking when’s Mum coming, where’s Dad? They fall asleep on the chairs and Mrs Peters covers them up with rugs.
But Stephanie won’t sleep. She fixes her eyes on the flickering TV. Her eyes feel dry and sore. Mrs Peters keeps looking across at her, staring at her over her knitting are you all right love are you sure you won’t have anything to eat what about something to drink wouldn’t you like to lie down?
But she won’t sleep. She can’t. Not until they find Gemma. And way, way, way after it’s dark outside, really black, Dave is at the door, peering in. Mrs Peters jumps up and crosses the room. They huddle together, whispering under the outside light and when they come inside Dave’s face looks more serious than Stephanie has ever seen it. He looks across at Stephanie and the boys and when he sees she’s awake he tries to smile.
‘Stephanie, love, can you carry Liam? I’ll take Jonny. Let’s get you guys home.’
She has to ask it even though she already knows the answer. ‘Dad, what about Gemma?’
‘No news yet, sweetheart. I’m sure it won’t be long, though.’
He’s trying to sound like everything’s all right. She can tell by the way he keeps his voice flat and slow and even. All the way home in the car she doesn’t talk, just stares out of the window into the blackness. She knows Gemma is out there. Sometimes she wakes up in the night and Gemma will be in her bed, her arms tight around Stephanie’s waist, her hot little body pressed along her back, her nose against Stephanie’s spine. She can hear her snuffle-breathing, feel it against her skin.
Let it be a mistake, let her be at home, let it be a mistake, let her be at home. I’ll never moan about looking after her again. If she can just be at home.
But only Minna’s there. Her eyes are dazed and her face still and empty. She takes Liam from Stephanie, gathers him tightly against her and follows Dave who’s carrying Jonny up the passage to the bedrooms. Stephanie sits down. She stares around the living room, at the pictures on the walls and the pottery and books on the shelves and the blue chair with the red cushion in the corner, all the things she knows are there. Except it’s like she doesn’t recognise any of these things any more, like she doesn’t even belong here but has somehow stumbled into a strange room.
Dave and Minna come back. They stand together beside the fireplace facing Stephanie. She watches their faces, waits for them to tell her what will happen. But they don’t say anything, don’t even tell her to go to bed. Then Dave touches Minna’s shoulder very lightly and he crosses the room, opens the glass doors and goes out into the dark.
Minna should come and brush her hair off her face. Minna should smile and say everything will be all right. But she walks across the room and she doesn’t look at her, doesn’t speak at all. She sits on the chair nearest to the phone and folds her arms around her belly. She sits away from Stephanie on the other side of the room beside the phone and rocks her body back and forward, back and forward, back and forward.
3.
Within the first three hours of a child going missing there’s around a ninety per cent chance they’ll be found. A kid gets it into his head to take off: throw a stone into a river, go to someone’s place, climb a tree. The parents go to hell and back, probably lose a few years off their
lives. Then the kid turns up. Gets a good telling-off mixed up with hugs and tears. Nine times out of ten it turns out okay. Most lost kids get found.
If twenty-four hours go by, the chance of finding a missing child alive isn’t nearly so good. But there’s still hope. Kids have been found tucked into bush, behind sand-hills, in somebody’s garage. Maybe asleep, probably a bit dehydrated, hungry and definitely scared but alive.
But alive.
After two days the chances are almost negligible. Because even if there hasn’t been an abduction, even if a child’s just wandered away and got lost they’ve been a long, long time without water and food. Stands to reason, too, the younger a kid is, the less chance they have.
Gemma’s been missing now for just on eighteen hours. Police cars are nosing along the lakefront and there’s the whirr and rasp of helicopters, the chug-chug-chug of boats moving slowly across water. There’s police everywhere, more arriving from Dunedin and Christchurch all the time: Detective Inspectors, Detective Senior Sergeants, all the brass. The two local guys are way down the bottom of the heap with all this going on.
What everyone is whispering is that Gemma Anderson most likely took herself off down to the lake and slipped in, poor wee soul. In some parts the depth is immeasurable; a little girl could be lost down there for ever. There’ve been divers out since early morning and people are on the jetty and along the lakefront gazing out. Around nine o’clock everyone got excited. A diver came up and waved and pointed, then they pulled something up. They brought the boat up near shore and the police launch went over. There was a sack on the deck, sodden through, weighed down with stones, the neck tied with rope.
Dead kittens. Bodies rotted away. Just bones and bits of fur.
They come early in the morning. Stephanie sees them through the window walking up the path, two men dressed in pressed-looking trousers and long-sleeved shirts and ties even though it’s so hot. Stephanie opens the door because Dave’s already out and Minna’s sitting at the table crying. They show ID just like on TV. It’s the police and they ask to speak to Minna. She comes out of the kitchen, her eyes bright with fear and hope.
Hunting BLind: It's Every Family's Deepest Fear Page 2
