The Missing Pieces of Us

by Fleur McDonald

  Tamara led Dean and Lauren into the storeroom at the back of her shop, and they all sat down on office chairs. ‘I’m happy to talk now, but I’m the only one in the shop at the moment,’ said Tamara, ‘so if a customer comes in, you’ll have to understand that I need to go out and serve them.’

  ‘Of course we do,’ Dean said. ‘We don’t want to hold you up from your job. We’re just not sure, ah—’

  ‘Look, it’s pretty simple,’ Tamara cut in briskly, with her usual bright, friendly smile. ‘I’ve seen Skye around a fair bit. Obviously, we all sort of know each other by sight and we’ve chatted whenever you’ve been in to buy clothes or Skye’s been in with Adele. Yesterday, I heard the alarm go off from across the hall.’ Tamara described what had happened next, then shook her head with a rueful smile. ‘I felt I had to do something to help. I’ve never had the impression that your daughter is the sort of girl to do this type of thing—and, believe me, when you’ve been in this industry as long as I have, you get an instinct about people.’

  Lauren felt herself relax. This wasn’t something Skye had been doing for a long time before getting caught. Well, that was one small mercy.

  Tamara continued. ‘I’ve asked Skye to come in and work for me, on Thursday evenings and Saturday mornings for three months, out of school hours. It’s just a trial to see how she goes. I thought it might give her a sense of responsibility and make her think about her actions more. That’s if you’re agreeable, of course.’

  Lauren frowned. She felt as though Tamara was taking over—but at the same time she was asking for their opinion.

  So, how did Lauren feel about Skye having a job? It might be good for her work ethic, but what about her studies? There needed to be some accountability and punishment for what she’d done, but Lauren and Dean were her parents, not Tamara.

  ‘This is all very nice of you,’ said Dean, ‘but why are you going to so much trouble for our daughter?’ He sounded suspicious. ‘What’s in this for you?’

  ‘I totally understand why you’re both concerned—believe me, I’ve never intervened in something like this before. It’s just that Skye reminds me of my teenage self. The short story is, someone gave me a chance when I mucked up, and I’d like to do that for your daughter. I reckon the theft was a bit of a cry for help.’

  ‘Cry for help?’ repeated Lauren, baffled.

  ‘I bought Skye a pizza last night because she hadn’t eaten all day, and we had a chat. She seemed very upset and worried. I understand that your melanoma diagnosis is recent. And, like all teenage girls, she’s obviously got loads going on in her head already. But I don’t know exactly what’s bothering her.’

  Dean nodded slowly. ‘You’re right, I’m sure the melanoma has got a bit to do with it. God knows I’ve tried to talk to her, as has Lauren, over the past couple of days, but it’s been like talking to a wall. If you can get her to open up, we’d certainly appreciate it. As much as I’d like her to talk to us, just so long as she’s talking to a responsible adult, well—’ he held up his hands ‘—that’s probably all that matters.’

  ‘Talking is always good, especially for a teenager,’ Lauren agreed, although she still felt unsure. Then she realised she hadn’t asked an important question. ‘Which shop did Skye steal from? We should apologise to the owner.’

  ‘The surf shop straight across from here. But Skye already wrote a letter to apologise, which I delivered this morning. The owner told Skye yesterday that she was banned for life, but softened up a little when she read that letter.’

  Tamara’s smile was a bright lightbulb in Lauren’s face. She wanted to squint and turn away.

  The buzzer sounded. ‘Excuse me,’ Tamara said, walking out to her customer.

  Dean and Lauren stared at each other.

  ‘What sort of punishment does this deserve?’ Dean asked her, looking lost.

  ‘I’ve got no idea,’ Lauren said, rubbing her eyes. ‘I’m devastated.’

  Then they waited in silence until Tamara returned.

  Lauren licked her lips. ‘We’ve got to impose a punishment,’ she said, more to herself than to anyone else. ‘Something more than Skye doing a trial job here.’

  ‘Well . . . I’m not looking at this job as punishment.’ Tamara pursed her lips. ‘More as a learning experience. Skye seemed to show genuine guilt and regret. If you’re happy with our arrangement, she starts here this afternoon. I can even drop her home afterwards. If you’re not keen, can you let her know?’

  Anger started to trickle through Lauren. Or was it panic? First the melanoma, now Skye—everything was out of her control.

  I know how to raise my own child, she thought. But she couldn’t think of a rational reason to turn down Tamara’s offer.

  The buzzer sounded again. ‘Perfect timing!’ said Tamara. ‘I was about to suggest that the two of you have a word in private.’ She slipped out of the room.

  ‘How do you feel about all of this?’ Lauren asked Dean.

  ‘Tamara’s trying to help us, that’s for sure.’

  Lauren lowered her voice. ‘You don’t think she was telling us how to raise our own kid?’

  ‘Yes and no. But ultimately, I reckon she’s got Skye’s best interests at heart. Can you imagine if security had been called?’

  Lauren shuddered at the thought.

  ‘Obviously, Tamara had some sort of a similar incident when she was younger and someone helped her. I understand her reasoning: one good turn deserves another. Skye might be able to help someone else in the same situation one day.’

  ‘Maybe. But, Dean, where have we mucked up?’ Lauren was appalled to find tears in her eyes. She only ever cried after having the nightmare. It must be the drugs she’d had yesterday, making her more emotional than normal.

  ‘Oh, honey, I don’t think we’ve mucked up,’ Dean said. ‘Skye is a teenager who’s experienced a huge upheaval in her life and is having trouble coping. She’s testing the boundaries. What’s important is the way we handle her from now on.’

  ‘It might be a good thing that I’ve got a bit of time off,’ Lauren mused. ‘If I’m around a bit more, she might talk to me.’ And not just Tamara.

  ‘We have to get Skye talking,’ Dean agreed.

  Lauren reached out, grabbed hold of Dean’s hand and squeezed it tightly. They looked at each other and a silent agreement passed between them: they would do whatever it took to keep their daughter on the straight and narrow.

  When Tamara walked back into the storeroom, she seemed a little nervous.

  ‘We’re very appreciative of your offer, Tamara,’ Dean said, ‘and we’re very happy to support your plan to have Skye work with you. If there’s anything we can do—’

  Tamara beamed and shook their hands again. ‘Nope, Skye and I will be fine. I’m looking forward to seeing her this afternoon. Thanks for coming in!’

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Holly asked. She sat in the chair Lauren had indicated, then started fossicking in her handbag. ‘I’ve brought you a few things,’ she said, drawing out a box of chocolates and a book. ‘Here you go, the latest Liane Moriarty. Thought it would help you stay on that couch—where you should be, recovering!’

  ‘Oh, thanks so much, Holly! I can’t wait to read it.’ Lauren glanced at the blurb before setting it down next to her. ‘I’m fine. Tired, but fine.’

  ‘Good. Any results back yet?’

  ‘No, although apparently we’ll hear something later this afternoon. It’s the waiting that kills me, you know? I just wish we could start planning ahead.’

  ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘Can you?’ Lauren asked, more sharply than she’d intended. She sighed. ‘Sorry, I’m being a bitch.’

  Holly laughed. ‘You’re allowed to be. You’ve got a lot to contend with. How are Stu and Skye?’

  ‘Oh my God, Holly! Skye’s been caught shoplifting. Dean and I haven’t been home long—we just went to see the woman who “saved” her.’

  ‘Shoplifting? What? That doe
sn’t sound like Skye . . . Wait, hold on. Saved?’

  Lauren explained about Tamara. ‘Now, instead of Skye having a caution, or whatever they do to kids these days, she has a job. Tamara’s put her to work!’

  ‘A remarkable way of dealing with things.’ Holly sounded intrigued.

  ‘Not sure how I feel about it.’ Lauren put her hands to her face and let out a groan. ‘I guess I should just be pleased that Skye told me. She could have tried to hide it or lie about it, I suppose. I’ll talk to her later, when she gets home from the shop. Although, I probably should wait until Dean’s here too—he seems to act as a buffer between us. She doesn’t hate him quite as much as she hates me.’

  ‘She doesn’t hate you,’ Holly said. ‘She’s trying to find out who she is, as well as processing your diagnosis. Don’t forget how crappy it is to be stuck between being a girl and a woman. Adults treating you like a young girl, because you still are, while your brain tells you they should treat you like an adult. Anyway, you know all about biological, emotional and psychosocial conflicts—I don’t need to explain.’

  ‘Now you’re talking like a psychologist.’

  ‘Probably because I am one.’ Holly grinned. Then, more seriously, she said, ‘It’s hard on you all. Do you want me to talk to her? I offered yesterday.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lauren said, feeling defeated. ‘I really don’t know. But there’s one thing I do know—I’m embarrassed. Mortified. There’s no way I ever would have thought that either of my children could do something like this. I can’t imagine what Mum and Dad will say when I tell them. Or Dean’s parents.’

  ‘Kids make their own decisions,’ Holly reminded her. ‘Not all the choices they make have anything to do with the way they’ve been brought up.’

  ‘There’s no way Stu would have shoplifted.’ Lauren frowned. ‘I’m just so angry with Skye. And I feel indebted to Tamara, when I don’t want to be.’

  ‘It’s okay to feel all of that, Lauren,’ said Holly, sounding every inch the psychologist again. ‘All emotions are valid.’

  ‘Any more news on Dirk?’ Lauren asked, wanting to change the subject.

  ‘His mother did as she promised and took him to the doctor yesterday. They’re running some tests. We’ll hear more soon enough, I would imagine.’

  ‘Poor kid.’

  ‘Poor family,’ Holly said.

  ‘I still can’t believe his mum wouldn’t take him to the doctor.’ Lauren felt the prickle of tears again. Good God, what was wrong with her?

  Under Holly’s silent, observant gaze, Lauren felt as though she was being assessed. She got up from the couch and went to look out at the sunny afternoon.

  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t worry about Dirk right now,’ Holly said. ‘There’s more than enough going on in your life. Skye needs you, and you need your family.’

  Lauren nodded. ‘That’s very true. I was curious.’

  She decided not to admit that after her surgery, in the car on the way home, she’d picked up her phone to call Zoe, just to check that she was taking Dirk to the doctor. That was all—nothing unprofessional about it. Of course, Holly wouldn’t see it that way. Which was why Lauren had put the phone down without dialling.

  Another change of subject was needed.

  ‘Do you think it would be worthwhile getting Skye in to see a counsellor? One that specialises in teenagers and cancer?’ Lauren asked, leaving the window and walking back to her couch.

  ‘It would be a great thing! I can write a referral if you like.’

  ‘Thanks, Holly.’ Lauren lifted her hands in despair. ‘I wish I understood her, but her shoplifting has really thrown me.’

  Holly stood up and gave Lauren a hug. ‘Never rains but it pours, huh? I’d better head off.’

  ‘Thanks for keeping me company. And for the gifts.’

  Holly let herself out, and Lauren lay on the couch for a bit longer, willing herself to sleep. But her mind wouldn’t stop. Every time she shut her eyes, she had images of the dream: the dark walls, the hands holding her down, the claustrophobia.

  ‘Stuff that,’ Lauren muttered and got up. She went into the study, turned on the computer and checked her emails, hoping there might be something about her adoption. But she’d posted the letter on Saturday—it had probably only just arrived.

  Then she started to google. ‘Adoption in the 1960s,’ she typed. From the first page of results, she clicked on one headline that screamed at her: ‘Stories from mothers who had their babies taken from them.’ According to the article, approximately 150,000 babies were given up for adoption between 1951 and 1975. Most of these were forced adoptions.

  Lauren was struck by one woman’s story.

  I asked to see my baby, but the midwives told me that wouldn’t be possible because I was a BFA. ‘What is that?’ I asked. ‘Baby for adoption,’ they said. I told them: ‘My baby is not for adoption.’ Then the nurses said to me that I didn’t have a choice. They handed me papers and said I was to sign them. I couldn’t read, but I just knew they were about me giving my baby up. I refused. They told me it was so they could register the birth, so I ended up signing. I never saw the baby again. I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. I lie in bed every night, forty-five years later, and pretend to hold him or her in my arms before I go to sleep. Every day I pray for the child, and promise I’ll find them. But I haven’t yet, no matter how I’ve tried. I never got to see that child take its first step or lose its first tooth. I might have grandchildren. I resent not knowing.

  Lauren finished reading the story, tears running down her face. It must have been horrific for that birth mother, forced to give up a child, especially if he or she had been created in love. Constrained by a society that dictated women had no choices—no rights.

  What did my mother go through? Lauren wondered. Could this story be hers?

  Chapter 20

  After the school bell signalled the end of classes, Skye rushed to the toilets and changed into one of the shirts Tam had given her. She brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, then realised she’d forgotten the bandaid for her earring. Damn it. She hoped she could get one off Tam.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ Adele asked, dropping her bag next to Skye’s and pulling out her lipstick. ‘Hot date?’

  ‘I’ve got work,’ Skye said proudly.

  ‘Work?’ Adele looked appalled. ‘What for?’

  ‘At Angelic Threads. For three months. I’m gonna get a staff discount on the clothes, get first pick of the new stuff that comes in, and maybe even run the store when the manager goes away,’ she bragged. There was no way she’d be telling Adele the truth.

  ‘Bullshit, you are not.’ Adele smoothed her hair down then shook it out, trying to add a little body to it. She applied her lipstick and eyeliner while Skye watched.

  ‘I am.’ Skye didn’t care what Adele thought—Tam believed in her and that made her feel like she was walking on air. Adele could say what she liked, but today it would bounce right off.

  ‘Did you do what I dared?’ Adele asked sharply. ‘I thought you said you were going to text me when you’d done it. I never heard from you yesterday. Guess you wussed out.’

  ‘It was a stupid dare, anyway.’ Standing up to Adele felt good. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  Skye dreaded going home after her shift, though. God knows what her parents would say to her; she was sure she hadn’t heard the last of it from them.

  ‘Oh well, your loss.’ Adele shrugged. ‘Best way to get clothes or booze but.’

  Or a criminal record, Skye thought. Then she noticed Adele scratching her elbow. ‘So, you’ve done it heaps of times?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Scratch, scratch, scratch.

  ‘Which shop?’

  ‘Almost every shop in the centre.’ Adele made a kissing sound as she looked at herself in the mirror, checking her makeup.

  Yeah, right. ‘What have you lifted?’

  ‘What haven’t I taken? Bags,
shirts, a bottle of Baileys. I’ve got a whole box full of clothes in my cupboard that Mum and Dad don’t know about. I sell them on. Make money, you know?’ Scratch, scratch, scratch.

  Skye shook her head. What a load of bullshit. And this girl was supposed to be her best friend. But Adele wasn’t a friend anymore. Not a real one. Her nana, Connie, had once told her that friends need to be ‘true in confidence and character’. Adele wasn’t being that, and it hit Skye like a force between the eyes. Adele was just someone she spent time with—a means to an end. So she didn’t have to sit by herself at lunchtime.

  What had Skye seen in her? All Adele did was tell lies and bag people out. No, Skye didn’t want to be around this sort of person anymore. Jasmine was much nicer: she stood up for Skye, talked to her, asked how her mum was.

  ‘Doesn’t your mum ask where you get the extra money from?’ Skye asked. One last question to see if her ‘bestie’ would tell the truth.

  ‘Nah, she wouldn’t even know I’ve got it.’

  Skye struggled not to roll her eyes. ‘I gotta go. Don’t want to be late.’

  ‘Sure, see you tomorrow,’ Adele said, but Skye could tell she was giving her the cold shoulder.

  Skye hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and started to walk out of the bathrooms. ‘Oh.’ She stopped. ‘Did you ever hear from Neil?’

  ‘Nope. Told you, didn’t expect to.’

  ‘Doesn’t that make you feel weird after everything you did?’ Skye couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to share something like that with a boy, then never hear from him again. It was such a relief to know Billy wouldn’t be like that.

  ‘Fuck, you’re naive,’ Adele said. ‘You’re so sheltered, Skye. It was a one-nighter. Nothing weird about it.’

  That doesn’t make you any different to the guys you keep calling fuckboys, Skye thought. And that’s not someone I want to be.

  ‘But you lost your—’

  ‘So?’ Adele raised her eyebrows as if daring Skye to finish her sentence.