The Dispatch is supposed to have all the local news, except Narelle, the editor, only works on it one day a week so the stuff in it is mostly what people remember to send in. Always two pages of sporting results: the School swimming carnival, or the Club golfing championship, or the ‘Moola Tigers undersevens, and suchlike. Church news, for all four churches, and the news from Senior Citizens, and the Council report with all the building applications in small type, so Council doesn’t have to pay as much to put them in. Then the classified ads and who is engaged to whom (why don’t they put divorces in the paper too?) or turned 21 (with a dorky baby photo to go with it).
Reenie was going to have her twenty-first at Harrison’s old woolshed, she always said. They’ve got a commercial kitchen and hire it out …
The paper was in the letterbox when I went down to the gate to collect the mail. I hadn’t gone to school Tuesday either—Dad hadn’t even asked if I was.
This Tuesday they had some news —LOCAL GIRL MISSING. I could see the headline as I pulled the paper out of the box. I read it as fast as I could; I think I hoped there would be something in it that I didn’t already know. I mean, this was the PAPER—it was supposed to be full of news. But of course there was nothing new.
It just had Reenie’s name and age and all that stuff, and what she looked like, as though everyone in town didn’t know already, and a photo of her. It was one Mum must have taken not long ago. I hadn’t seen it before. It was all grainy because they’d turned it into black and white. She looked nice and blonde and pretty, all the things she was. The sort of daughter every parent wants to love.
The article said: ‘… if anyone has seen her or knows anything would they contact the police …’ and gave a number, not the local police number, but an 1800 number. I don’t suppose Narelle wrote the article—it was more like something the police would have written.
I wanted to ring the number, just to hear who was on the other end. Would it be that Bob bloke or someone else? Ask what were they doing? Were they doing ANYTHING? Had anyone rung up already and what had they said…?
But I didn’t. I seemed to be wandering about, not doing anything, as though being scared takes half your energy.
I left the paper on the table for Dad to read when he came in. And then I went to write a letter.
CHAPTER 14
Letter to Reenie, Tuesday, 9th May
Dear Reenie,
It’s funny writing to you like this, when I won’t even be able to post the letter.
I’ve never written to you before, except for cards on your birthday.
Did you ever notice that year I was angry with you and didn’t send one? Mum did. I lied and said it must have got lost in the post.
I suppose I’m writing to you because you’re the only one who can answer all the questions, like where you are and why.
Why didn’t you tell anyone you broke up with Johnnie? You’ve always told Mum everything before. At least, she thought you did, and so did I.
Why was he ringing you Thursday morning if you’d broken up?
What happened to you, Reenie?
Why?
I can’t understand it, any of it. Even if you WANTED to disappear, how can anyone vanish in a town like ours? You can’t even drive out of the place without someone seeing you.
No, that’s not really why I’m writing to you. I can say all that to other people—but I can’t tell them this. This is just for you.
I want you back, Reenie. If you came back everything would be the way it was, and Dad and Mum wouldn’t be hurting so much any more.
But you know something awful, something really horrible? In a way, I’m glad you’ve gone. Because now you’re not perfect any more. I don’t have to live up to you.
All my life people have said how nice you are, how neat, how good and everything, as though I must be proud of having a sister like you. But now for the first time I’m not anyone’s sister. I’m just me.
Bob Munn asked me—‘Is there anyone who has a grudge against your sister,’ and I said, ‘No.’
But I lied. There is one person. Me.
If the police were really any good they’d know that the one person in the world who sometimes wanted you gone was your sister. But I want you back now, Reenie, I WANT YOU TO COME BACK.
Sara
CHAPTER 15
Gossip, Wednesday, 10th May
‘I reckon it was aliens. They’re always kidnapping people,’ said Joshua Kirnsey.
I felt sick. I wished I hadn’t come to school at all. It had felt okay to go back, because everyone knew about Reenie now. But it was worse.
I just turned my back on him and walked away.
Di followed me. Di’s good like that. We didn’t speak till we were past the oval, empty except for a pair of magpies pecking at whatever magpies peck at.
I plopped myself down on one of the seats (engraved with Mark loves Dallas) that the Parents and Friends had put in for the six and a half people who actually watch our football matches.
Di sat next to me.
‘He just wanted to help,’ she said at last.
‘No, he didn’t. He wasn’t even thinking about me or Reenie. It was just like it was something on TV. A stupid detective show or something and he was the detective and had to find out the answer.’
Di shrugged.
‘It’s the same with all of them. It’s just a game! “Maybe she was kidnapped,”’ I mimicked. ‘“Maybe she has amnesia.” “Maybe she was on drugs.” Reenie never took drugs!’
‘How do you know?’ asked Di quietly.
I stared at her. ‘She was my sister.’
‘You didn’t live with her, did you? She could have been taking all sorts of stuff and you’d never know.’ Di spoke really seriously, not playing detective like the others. She was my friend, and this was something she thought I should think about.
‘Of course I’d know if she took drugs! Mum would have known, or Dad would have known. I mean, everyone knows who takes stuff in town! Even if she wasn’t my sister I’d probably have heard.’
‘Yeah, I suppose,’ said Di. We sat looking at the magpies.
‘I know where he got that idea about aliens,’ Di said finally. ‘There was an article in Woman’s Day. About this couple who think the aliens are going to land and bring world peace in November. The aliens are kidnapping all these people who can help Earth make the transition from war to happiness … something like that. To be the messengers.’
‘And he thinks they kidnapped Reenie to be a messenger about world peace?’ Weird.
But you know something? Just for a second, half a second … I almost considered it. Reenie would have been a great messenger for world peace.
And it was no more impossible than anything else.
CHAPTER 16
Thursday, 11th May
Nothing happened Thursday. Well, a lot happened, but nothing that mattered.
People rang up and said all the same things over and over again. Dad rang up the hospitals, again, even though he knew there was no point.
Di rang on Thursday night. I had forgotten she was going to Brisbane for her grandmother’s 70th birthday party till she reminded me at lunchtime. Her whole family was going. They were driving, which meant they would be away for four days.
Half of me wanted to ask if she’d stay home. At least Di was someone I could talk to about Reenie. Or rather, I could talk to Mum and Dad, but Di only knew Reenie because she was my sister. It didn’t hurt her to talk about what had happened, and wonder, like it hurt Mum and Dad.
‘You okay?’ Di asked, even though she’d seen me just that afternoon.
‘Yeah, I’m okay,’ I answered.
‘Mum says we’re leaving at five a.m. Which means we have to get up at four.’
‘How long will it take you?’
‘Fifteen hours driving. Mum and Dad will take turns.’
‘Don’t forget to take your Walkman.’
‘It’s packed,’ said Di.
‘What about batteries?’
‘Bummer. I knew I’d forgotten something,’ said Di. ‘I’ll see if I can borrow some out of the radio in the shed.’
We were talking just for the sake of talking. I was really going to miss her.
‘I’ll ring you from Brisbane,’ said Di, as though she knew what I was thinking.
‘Won’t your Gran mind you making long-distance calls?’
‘Not if I explain,’ said Di. As I said, Di’s a good friend.
I felt really alone when she hung up. And scared, like she might die in a car crash or catch some horrible disease … or be bitten by a vampire bat or chased by werewolves. Don’t be stupid, I told myself.
But werewolves and vampire bats didn’t seem any stranger than what had happened to Reenie.
CHAPTER 17
Letter to Reenie, Friday, May 12
Dear Reenie,
Rebecca’s mum said something about you this afternoon—something about how you must have run off with someone, that’s what it always turns out to be in cases like this.
She didn’t mean to hurt me. Maybe she meant to be reassuring or maybe she just didn’t think at all.
I was so angry I couldn’t speak.
I went into their toilet and sat on the stupid frilly toilet seat cover and clenched my fists and then unclenched them about sixty times, and then I came out. I didn’t say anything, just went on trying to study with Rebecca.
But I couldn’t concentrate, so I went home.
I shouldn’t have gone over there. But Di’s still away and I didn’t want to sit at home trying to think of something to talk to Dad about that doesn’t hurt us both, or at Mum’s watching her listen for the phone to ring.
I won’t go to Rebecca’s again. Ever.
I know you didn’t run off with anyone. I KNOW it. How dare that stupid woman say such a stupid, stupid thing about you. And then I remembered I’d said something like that to Dad. But that was different. I’m your sister. I’m allowed to say things like that. And anyway, I knew it wasn’t true.
Love Sara
CHAPTER 18
Elaine
Then it was the weekend again, and two things happened.
The first thing that happened was that Reenie’s other flatmate, Elaine, came back from Sydney.
I think she’d planned to get back Sunday night, but she came back Saturday instead, so she would be able to talk to Mum and Dad and me before she had to work on Monday.
Elaine was nice. So was Myra, of course, and Reenie. I mean if I’d had to write an assignment about them for school, that’s how I’d have described them—three really nice girls. Not terribly interesting, mind you. But nice.
I saw Elaine’s car beetle along the drive while Dad and I were having lunch. Her car is one of those tiny Korean things that Dad says are about as tough as a can of baked beans, all blue and shiny like some sort of metallic bug—though with all the dust on our road it wasn’t very shiny now. The car pulled up out the front of the house.
‘I’ll go,’ I said to Dad. ‘You keep eating.’
He hadn’t been eating much, to tell the truth, which worried me. Dad’s always been a big eater—sausages, chops, mashed potato, an egg with his four bits of toast every morning. Cholesterol on the hoof, Mum says. But this past week, unless I madesomething special, he just said he wasn’t hungry.
That’s why I’d made pancakes for lunch so he’d feel he had to eat them or I’d be upset. And to give me something to do, to tell the truth.
Elaine got out of the car as I opened the door. She’s a few years older than Reenie and Myra and it shows. Not that she’s got more wrinkles or anything—she just looks more assured.
She was wearing jeans, but really nice ones (not the sort you buy at Fran’s Gear up in town), and this really good-looking white cotton shirt. I never wear white—not a good idea when you live on a gravel road. The dust on the seat belt rubs off on whatever you wear and then you have to bleach it. Not worth the trouble, I reckon.
‘Sara. Hi,’ said Elaine.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘We’re just finishing lunch.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Come in.’
I led the way through the lounge room, then down the hall into the kitchen. Dad stood up as we came in—he still does that old-fashioned sort of stuff.
‘Elaine … sit down. Excuse us eating. Would you like a pancake?’
‘There’s plenty,’ I said. The recipe said, Serves Four, which usually means it serves a man like Dad, but then, neither of us were much into food right now.
‘I’ve had.’ began Elaine, but something in my face must have stopped her because she said, ‘I’d love a pancake.’
Like I said, Elaine is a nice girl.
I fetched a plate from the dresser and a knife and fork, then lifted up the tea-towel from the plate of pancakes in the centre of the table. They were still hot. ‘There’s lemon and brown sugar, or apricot jam and cream,’ I said.
‘Apricot jam, please,’ said Elaine. ‘This all looks really delicious, Sara. I didn’t know you were such a good cook.’
She took a bite, sort of dutifully—you could tell she wasn’t really hungry—then she said, ‘Mr Marr, Sara, I just came down to say …’ she hesitated. ‘Well, I’m sorry about Reenie. If there’s anything at all I can do …’
Dad shook his head. ‘Not that I can think of. But thank you for offering. I hope the police didn’t bother you too much.’
Elaine shook her head. ‘It was just the one phone call. Had I heard from Reenie? Did she have any enemies?’ She stopped.
‘Did she do drugs?’ I said. ‘I bet they asked you that.’
Elaine nodded. ‘She didn’t,’ she said, looking straight at Dad. ‘I told them so.’ She saw me looking at her fork, so she took another bite of pancake.
‘Did they want to know anything else?’ I asked.
Elaine swallowed her bite of pancake before she continued. ‘They asked, did I know anyone she might have gone to if she was in trouble? But I couldn’t think of anyone. I mean no one special. Just the people you must have asked already. But that’s all they wanted to know really. I hadn’t seen her since the Friday afternoon before I left for Sydney.’
I nodded. ‘They couldn’t even have asked you if she’d been depressed, because you weren’t there.’
‘Reenie! Reenie’s never depressed,’ said Elaine.
‘I mean depressed about Johnnie,’ I said.
Elaine stared. ‘Why on earth would she be depressed about Johnnie?’
‘Hasn’t anyone told you?’ asked Dad.
Elaine shook her head.
‘Johnnie broke it off with her on the Wednesday night,’ I said. ‘The police think she might have been really upset about it and that’s why she ran away …’
I didn’t say what else they thought she might have done. It was like the more I said it, the more it might have happened. As though by saying the thing out loud I made it more possible, more real.
‘Johnnie broke it off?’ Elaine blinked. ‘That can’t be right.’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘I don’t believe it!’
‘Why not?’ asked Dad gently.
‘Because Reenie was going to break it off with him,’ said Elaine flatly.
CHAPTER 19
Who is telling the Truth?
Dad made tea, to sort of give us thinking time, and we drank it out on the verandah.
Mostly, we don’t sit out on the verandah at our place—the sun either shrivels you up, or the wind freezes you slowly, starting with your toes. But this time of the year you feel like soaking up the sun to last you through winter. The grass on the hills had that soft gold–green shine it only gets in autumn, when it is safe from summer heat and winter frosts and only the teeth of cattle and wombats bother it.
Everything kept going round and round in my mind as I sat on the old cane chair that Mum would have thrown out by now. If Reenie bro
ke it off with Johnnie, not the other way around, there’d be no reason for her to be depressed. No reason for her to leave town because she couldn’t face everyone, which had always seemed pretty silly anyway. No reason for her to have killed herself … not that Reenie would ever have done anything like that.
Reenie hadn’t been depressed, and Johnnie had lied.
‘It doesn’t necessarily mean he lied,’ said Dad, trying to convince himself. ‘Maybe they both decided it was best to end it.’
‘But Johnnie didn’t tell the police that,’ I reminded him. ‘Remember? He said that she was really upset, that she wouldn’t accept it. That’s why he rang on Thursday, to see if she was okay.’
‘Maybe he just didn’t want to admit it,’ suggested Elaine. ‘A sort of pride thing. Perhaps it made him feel better to let everyone think it was him who broke it off, not her.’
‘But everyone would find out what really happened when Reenie got back. They’d find out he hadn’t told the truth,’ said Dad.
‘Unless she didn’t come back,’ I said. ‘Unless he knew she wouldn’t ever come back …’
I stopped suddenly. It was as though, like Joshua Kirnsey, I was treating it like a detective story, trying to find out who did what and why. But this was Reenie I was talking about, and Johnnie.
Johnnie. He was a nice bloke. I know I keep saying they’re all nice, but they were, I mean they are. All of Reenie’s friends are nice.
Johnnie had given me a book about identifying butterflies for my birthday, just because I was Reenie’s sister. Reenie must have told him I liked insects—or I did when I was a little kid anyway. There was no way Johnnie would hurt anyone, especially not Reenie. He adored Reenie …
‘Johnnie adored Reenie,’ said Elaine. ‘He’d never hurt her.’
‘Maybe he was angry,’ said Dad slowly. ‘Maybe there was an accident. Maybe they quarrelled. Maybe he pushed her and she struck her head …’
Missing You, Love Sara Page 4
