‘Gone to pick up his parents. He dropped mine here first.’ She nodded towards a man sitting in a wheelchair near a sandy bank at the water’s edge, a tartan scarf wrapped around his neck. A woman was standing next to him, tucking a blanket under his legs. ‘I think you’ve met them before, haven’t you?’
Miranda nodded. ‘When we went to the zoo that time. How’s your dad?’
‘His dementia’s worse. He’s almost immobile now.’
Miranda squinted at the old man in the wheelchair. Even at a distance, she could see the telltale slackness of his jaw, the unnatural absence of movement. Cara’s mother fussed about, adjusting his cap and smoothing the lapels of his jacket.
‘It’s so sad,’ sighed Cara. ‘Uh-oh, there goes Little Miss Trouble again.’ She moved off after Astrid, who was tottering towards the barbecue area.
Miranda was glad Rory wasn’t walking yet. She knew it was going to be a lot of hard work.
She gazed out across the picnic area. It was a glorious autumn afternoon. A light breeze carried the earthy, native scents of banksias, gum, grevillea. Ducks moved in languid circles across the shining surface of the dam. The distant sound of children laughing in the playground was muffled by their lazy, low-pitched calls. She tilted her face to the sun and closed her eyes. Briefly, she was carried back to the spontaneous optimism she’d felt as a teenager at the beginning of the summer holidays. All those seemingly endless possibilities, the empty weeks stretching out forever.
When Miranda opened her eyes, she saw Suzie in the car park, carrying Freya on one hip and several chairs in the other. She clearly needed some help.
She glanced over at the pergola, where Willem was balanced on a milk crate, fixing the last of the balloons. Digby was standing next to him, holding a ball of string.
‘Willem,’ she called. ‘Can you go over there and help?’ She nodded towards Suzie, who’d set down the chairs in the car park. Miranda picked up Rory and moved closer to Willem.
‘She doesn’t have anyone else to help her,’ she explained, lowering her voice. ‘She’s a single mother. I’ll watch Digby.’
‘Right,’ said Willem. ‘Hold these.’ He passed her a packet of thumbtacks he’d been using to pin the balloons, and began walking in the direction of Suzie.
Miranda exchanged pleasantries with Robert while trying to keep Digby away from the barbecue.
‘They’re almost done, mate,’ said Robert, smiling at Digby.
‘But I want a sausage now.’
‘I’ll give you the first one when they’re ready,’ said Robert. ‘I promise.’
‘Come on, Dig, let’s play ball with Rory,’ she offered, attempting to distract him. She pulled Digby by the hand towards the picnic rugs. She could feel her lower back objecting to the strain.
As she set Rory down on one of the rugs and rolled a soccer ball at Digby, Cara appeared at her side. She seemed a little breathless, as though she’d been running.
‘Miranda, can you watch Astrid for a moment?’ she asked. She placed Astrid on the rug and passed her a yellow ball. ‘A friend of mine’s just popped by to say hello, but he can’t stay for very long.’ Miranda glanced in the direction that Cara was looking. A tall, dark figure was standing near the children’s playground.
‘Sure.’
‘Thanks a million.’ Cara headed over to the man, her walk quickly becoming a jog.
Miranda scanned the other side of the picnic area for Willem. She’d sent him off to the car park to help Suzie ages ago. What could possibly be taking him so long?
She pulled the Evian bottle from her handbag and took another mouthful.
Astrid and Rory began scrambling across the picnic rug together, in pursuit of the yellow ball. Digby was scaling an enormous rock nearby, puffing as he pulled himself up to its flat top. ‘I’m the king of the castle and you’re the dirty rascal, nyah nyah nyah!’
She pretended to be interested, smiling and waving at him.
Then she saw them. Suzie and Willem, standing off to one side, beyond the car park, near the public toilets. They appeared to be talking intently. Willem’s back was to her, but she could sense from his body language that something was wrong. Even at this distance, it was clear that Suzie was upset. What was going on? Had Willem said something inappropriate? He could often be blunt, and Suzie was oversensitive at the best of times.
‘Sausage sandwich?’ asked Robert, sliding a platter under her nose.
‘No thanks.’ Her stomach somersaulted.
‘What, after I’ve worked so hard to cook them?’
‘Oh, okay.’
He passed her a serviette and waved a set of tongs over the platter.
‘Which one?’
‘Any will do.’
She looked back towards Suzie and Willem. There was something intimate in their stance, in the way their eyes were trained on each other. Suzie was gesticulating and Willem turned away from her, glancing over his shoulder in Miranda’s direction. It was a furtive, fearful gesture.
‘Here we are,’ said Robert, passing her a sausage on a long white roll. ‘Sauce? I’ve got tomato, barbecue or sweet chilli.’
She shook her head and waved him away.
Her vision began to darken around the periphery as she watched the pair of them. Suzie and Willem. Everything else seemed to fall away. The taste of bile erupted in her mouth.
Willem turned again, and this time his eyes met hers.
And she knew, immediately. Suzie. Willem. Bill.
‘Mum, watch me!’ called Digby, leaping off the rock and landing with a thud on the grass below. ‘Ouch,’ he moaned, holding his right knee.
She struggled to breathe.
The sausage sandwich slid out of her hand. She fell to her knees and vomited. Vodka and bile spurted out of her mouth and nose.
‘God, are you alright?’ Pippa bent down next to her.
‘Water . . .’ She needed to flush out the foul taste. Pippa passed her the Evian bottle. She pushed it away.
Small fingers grasped her shoulder. She looked up, dazed.
‘Mummy?’ Digby’s face was pale and fearful. His knee was bleeding.
Rory began crawling towards her, over the picnic rug.
She vomited again.
Several people she didn’t know were standing nearby, watching her with curiosity.
She hauled herself up, embarrassed. ‘I must have eaten something . . .’
‘Here, you poor thing,’ said Pippa, passing her some baby wipes. ‘You’re not pregnant again, are you?’
Miranda shook her head. She looked in the direction of the toilet block. Willem and Suzie had disappeared. Where? Had they gone somewhere together? How was she supposed to handle this?
She dabbed at her mouth, her hands shaking. Digby began to cry.
‘It’s okay, Dig,’ she said, sitting back on her heels. ‘Mummy’s just feeling a bit sick.’ She reached out and touched his knee. ‘We’ll put a band-aid on that.’ The words, the actions, emerging automatically from somewhere within her.
‘I’ve got a first-aid kit,’ Pippa said. She walked towards a picnic table.
Willem suddenly appeared from the direction of the toilet block. Digby recovered immediately, dropping Miranda’s hand and running towards him like an excited puppy.
‘Watch me, Dad!’ he called, climbing onto the rock and leaping off it again.
‘Great, mate,’ said Willem. He sauntered over to Miranda.
‘Hey,’ he said, lifting Rory off the picnic rug. ‘What’s wrong? You look a bit sick.’
She tugged Rory out of his arms and glanced around. No one else was within earshot.
She took a step closer to him, her face almost touching his. ‘It’s a shock to discover your husband has a whore. And that she’s one of your friends from mothers’ group.’
His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
‘Don’t bother,’ she hissed. ‘All those work trips of yours.’ Her voice was low, inaudible to anyone else. ‘What
a fucking halfwit I am.’
‘Miranda, I had no idea Suzie was . . .’
‘Shut the fuck up.’
She couldn’t bear to be near him.
‘Look!’ yelled Digby. ‘A clown!’ A crowd had gathered near the pergola where a clown, his outlandish red smile painted up to his ears, balanced on a set of wooden stilts. He removed his shiny black top hat and, miming surprise, pulled a live white rabbit out of it. The crowd gasped and clapped in appreciation.
Miranda saw that Suzie was now among the group, holding Freya up to see the show. A moment later, their eyes locked. Suzie flushed red, her expression a mixture of fear and shame.
Miranda held her gaze, even as Suzie squirmed.
You can have Willem, she thought, and Digby too. Make yourself an instant fucking family.
Suddenly Cara was at Miranda’s side again, pink-cheeked and smiling.
‘Where’s Astrid?’ she panted.
Miranda glanced at the picnic rug. ‘She was right here.’
Cara’s face fell.
‘I . . . I was just watching her,’ said Miranda. ‘She can’t have gone far.’
‘Astrid?’ Cara called, looking from group to group. ‘Who’s got Astrid?’
Miranda started looking in the opposite direction, turning once to Willem. ‘Make yourself useful,’ she spat.
Others joined them. Pippa searched behind the barbecue and under chairs. Ginie went further, scouting behind bushes and trees. Made bolted off towards the eastern edge of the picnic area, flagging down a man in a green uniform. A ranger or gardener, perhaps. After a minute of searching, Cara turned to Miranda, her face ashen.
‘Where is she?’
‘I . . .’ Miranda looked from side to side, towards the bushland and then the dam. A toddler couldn’t possibly walk that far.
‘Is she with your husband?’ asked Daniel, who was standing nearby holding Rose.
‘My husband’s not here yet.’ Cara’s voice was shrill. Her eyes darted around in every direction, scanning the picnic area.
‘I saw a dark fellow hanging around here earlier,’ said an older woman holding Freya. ‘He was Pakistani or something. He kept looking over our way.’
Daniel nodded. ‘I saw him too.’
‘No, no,’ said Cara, her voice shaking. ‘That was my friend, Ravi. I was just with him . . .’ She brought her hands to her mouth.
A group began to congregate around them.
Gordon laid a hand on Cara’s arm. ‘How long since you’ve seen her?’
Cara’s eyes swivelled about in a confused way.
‘I don’t know, maybe ten minutes . . . I left her playing in the group.’ She looked in Miranda’s direction. ‘With Miranda.’
Miranda’s heart thudded in her ears. She felt as if the earth might swallow her.
Gordon turned to her. ‘And what happened, Miranda? Did you see anyone with Astrid?’
Miranda’s mind reeled. One minute Astrid was there, playing happily next to Rory. The next she was gone. How was she supposed to know what happened? It wasn’t her fault. It was Suzie’s. And Willem’s. And Cara’s. And everyone else who hadn’t bothered to watch Astrid, while Miranda was on her knees puking.
‘She was right here . . .’ she pleaded, her voice hoarse. Miranda’s legs buckled beneath her and she sank to the ground. No one offered to help her up.
Cara made a strange, guttural sound and began to weave across the picnic area.
‘I’ll call the police.’ Gordon pressed the three digits on his mobile.
Made approached, accompanied by the ranger. Some of the women began to cry. Others began to talk loudly, cutting across the top of each other. Miranda wanted to clap her hands over her ears and silence them all.
Miranda pulled Rory onto her lap and buried her face in his sweet-smelling hair.
She closed her eyes and wished herself away, far away.
If only she could start the day again.
Pippa
Pippa winced at the sound of the siren’s wail. She’d been trying to comfort Cara, but her efforts were futile. She scanned the picnic area again, desperate for some sign of Astrid. A sudden relieved cry: She’s here! But all was silent, bar Cara’s rasping sobs.
‘Take a breath, Cara,’ she urged, as two young police officers climbed out of a car and made their way towards the group. ‘Here, have some water.’ She held out Miranda’s Evian bottle, but Cara turned away.
Pippa lifted the water bottle to her own lips instead.
A fiery liquid filled her mouth. She spat it onto the ground, coughing.
She studied the bottle, then held it under her nose. Gin or vodka, she couldn’t be sure. She screwed the lid back on and stared at Miranda, who was huddled over Rory on a picnic rug.
Who drinks alcohol neat from an Evian bottle?
‘When did she go missing?’
Pippa looked up at a man in a green uniform, standing with Made.
He removed his hat and mopped the sweat from his forehead. ‘I’m a council ranger here.’
Pippa motioned him to one side. ‘We’re not really sure,’ she replied, her voice low. ‘Maybe ten or fifteen minutes ago.’
The man nodded, watching as Gordon led the police officers over to Cara. Their words were punctuated by Cara’s weeping. After several minutes, one of the officers strode back to the police car and began talking into his radio.
Returning from the car once more, the officer addressed his colleague. ‘Shift sergeant’s coming down. Search and rescue team mobilising, detectives called. Ambulance is en route for Mum.’
His colleague nodded and stood up.
‘Right, everyone,’ he said. ‘A child is missing and we need to get names and addresses of everyone here. There are more officers coming down to help, but we need all of you to stay in the area.’ He looked around the circle. ‘Has anyone seen any of your party leaving?’
Several people shook their heads.
My God, they’re treating this as a crime scene.
‘I saw someone leave,’ volunteered Monika, Suzie’s mother-in-law. She jiggled Freya in her arms. ‘A dark fellow. He was only here for a little while. Seemed like he was in a bit of a hurry.’ She stepped towards the police officers. ‘And he knew Astrid, too.’
‘Do you know his name, ma’am?’ One of the officers opened a black notebook and began scribbling across the page.
‘His name,’ said Cara suddenly, ‘is Dr Ravi Nadkarni.’
Pippa started. That was the doctor who’d assisted with her surgery four months ago.
‘He’s a friend from university,’ Cara continued. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ Her face was mottled and her chest heaved, as if she was hyperventilating. ‘Ravi didn’t touch Astrid. He didn’t even see her. He only saw me. He gave me a present for her . . . for her birthday.’ She collapsed into tears. Made held Cara as she wept, gently stroking her hair.
The officer nodded, his face a mask of neutrality.
‘Right,’ he said, looking up. ‘Let’s get the details of everyone here. We’ll start with you.’ He nodded at Monika, who seemed to stand taller when he addressed her.
‘Has anyone checked the dam?’ It was the ranger’s voice, urgent in Pippa’s ear.
She turned and stared at him. ‘She couldn’t have got that far,’ she said. ‘She’s only one.’
The sound of a siren drew closer: the ambulance, presumably, for Cara.
‘I’ll check, anyway.’ He was already striding across the grass leading down to the dam, his green shirt damp across his back.
Pippa followed him. She glanced back at Robert, sitting with Heidi at the edge of the barbecue area. Thank God she’s alright, she thought, before rebuking herself for selfishness. My friend’s child is missing.
They passed Mrs Bainbridge, Cara’s mother, pushing her husband in his wheelchair towards the group.
‘What’s happened up there?’ she asked.
Oh my God, she doesn’t know. And she’s the gran
dmother.
Pippa placed a hand on her arm. ‘Look, no one really knows yet. But Astrid is . . . missing.’
The old woman’s hands flew to her mouth.
‘The police are here and they’ve got it all under control,’ Pippa lied. ‘Would you mind calling Richard? Cara is very upset.’
Mrs Bainbridge began fumbling in her handbag. ‘He’s just picking up his parents,’ she stammered.
‘I know.’ Pippa broke into a run after the ranger. Her ballet slippers rubbed painfully at her heels, her hair flopped in her eyes. She’d carefully washed and blow-dried it that morning, never imagining she might find herself running as she was now. She caught up to the ranger where a sandy strip of beach gave way to rocks and then, around a grassy mound, to an area overgrown with reeds. Waterlilies floated like cups and saucers across the dam’s murky depths.
There were dozens of ducks congregated nearby, squabbling and sunning themselves on a grassy embankment that sloped into the dam.
Pippa squinted at the broad expanse of water, shielding her eyes with one hand. The sun’s glare bounced off the dam’s surface and she lowered her gaze.
And then she saw her, face-down in a blanket of frothy scum, behind a tuft of reeds. Her arms were outstretched, star-like, and her dress ballooned around her.
The ranger heard her gasp and swung around.
He plunged into the knee-deep water.
‘Dear Jesus,’ he said, grunting with exertion.
He wrenched her from the water and stumbled backwards. As he did, one of her shoes fell away, pink sequins glittering as it sank into the water. He stood before Pippa, dripping and heaving, holding Astrid to his chest. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her skin pale.
Pippa watched the ranger’s mouth move in the silent vacuum that surrounded them. His lips formed shapes, a white fleck of spittle appeared at the corner of his mouth, his head bobbed up and down. It was senseless, like watching the television without volume.
Then, suddenly, a thousand noises assaulted her brain. Sirens and car engines, a thudding bass beat in the distance, the incoherent murmuring of a crowd, the insane screeching of the ducks. A wild, high-pitched wail. She turned to see Cara, running down the slope towards them. Don’t let her die, don’t let her die.
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