The Missing Pieces of Us

by Fleur McDonald

  Sasha laughed. ‘Hi, Skye, it’s lovely to meet you. Come on in, we’re just setting up what we need for our camp next week. Do you like camping?’

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘You’re missing out,’ said Dave, a guy with those massive earlobe plugs that looked really painful. ‘Best fun, dude.’

  ‘Where do you go?’

  ‘I’ve got two thousand acres at Cadoux,’ Todd said. ‘It’s about two and a half hours north from here. We take the bus, head up there and kick you all out to commune with nature for a couple of days.’

  Skye thought it over. Maybe Todd would have family photos up all over his house. ‘Sounds fun.’

  Chapter 27

  After the kids had all gone, Todd packed up the rest of the pool table and wiped down the bench. Connor and Sasha had left too, so he was on his own, getting ready for the next day. He was happy to do this every night—it stopped him from going home.

  He thought about Skye, their newest member. He hoped they’d be able to help her. She was yet to tell him anything, but it was only the first day. He’d learned not to expect anything to happen quickly.

  Joining Walk This Way had been the best thing he’d done since he moved to Perth two years ago. And the first conversation he’d had with Pastor Connor had been in this very room during an interview for the volunteer role as a counsellor.

  ‘Have you got any children, Todd?’ Pastor Connor had asked.

  ‘No, no, I haven’t. My wife and I tried for years, but it never happened. We didn’t try IVF—figured if it was supposed to happen, it would. We owned a farm near Cadoux, which kept us pretty busy, and I coached the local under-sixteen footy team and helped out during the cricket season. Worked with boys more than girls. I’ve got a “working with children” clearance if that helps.’

  ‘Yes, you’ll certainly need one of them,’ Connor replied.

  Todd had decided to be straight with Connor. ‘Look, this is going to sound strange, and I can’t explain it myself. I decided that today would be the turning point since my wife died. I’ve spent a year grieving for her. Sitting around the house, staring at walls.’ He cleared his throat. ‘My wife and the farm were my world for so long, and within the past two years I’ve sold the farm, save for two thousand acres and the farmhouse, lost my wife and moved into a completely foreign environment. I need to do something, help out somehow. I was driving past here a couple of days ago and saw these kids walking into the church, and I thought, What the hell, I’ll go and take a gander. I don’t need paid work—I made enough money from the sale of the farm to keep me for the rest of my life, but I still have to do something.’

  This was the most Todd had said out loud since before his wife’s death. He glanced down at his hands and saw they were knotted together the same way as his dad’s used to be when he’d been worried about something. Todd had said far more than he’d intended to, and Connor was a good listener—still, he probably had to be.

  ‘You’ve had a tough few years,’ Connor said after a brief silence.

  Shrugging, Todd looked away. ‘It’s life, isn’t it? Can’t change it—just got to keep on keeping on.’

  ‘But why are you so keen to work with troubled young adults? It’s not like coaching a footy team—some of these teenagers have had very hard lives. And there are plenty of other options out there. Volunteer activities that don’t need you to commit for a long period of time—Rotary, Lions, Apex. They all do great things.’

  ‘There was a boy I knew.’ Todd stopped. The hum of traffic outside seemed to grow louder in the silence. The heat, almost non-existent when he first arrived, now seemed to intensify. A bead of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades.

  The baked, dry earth from his memories appeared to creep over the room. Covering everything and thrusting his mind back to the funeral.

  Wheat-coloured grass rustled in the country cemetery. Dust flicked up with every footfall—and there were many that day. The whole community had turned out to mourn the loss of Darren O’Grady. Lines of people, two at time, walked behind the hearse. Couples holding hands, the wives clutching at hankies, the men stony-faced, knowing that this could easily have been their son. Groups of teenagers clung together, their shock, confusion and grief spilling out as they wrapped their arms around each other and held on; for most it was their first brush with death.

  A suicide.

  All too quickly, the coffin was lowered and it was all over. A young man, sixteen, who’d had the world at his feet, was in the ground, never to return. The community was left in shock, fearing for the rest of their children left behind. It seemed that no one was safe from the power of a tortured mind.

  The song ‘Wish You Were Here’ by Pink Floyd rang out across the graveyard. As it ended, all that could be heard were the sounds of grief.

  Todd looked up at the bright blue sky and watched a crow flying over the procession. Was Darren’s soul free of torment? What had those last few minutes been like, before he slipped into a heavy sleep, never to wake again? Who had he thought of, and had he suddenly wished he could change his actions? Questions his parents would ask, Todd assumed, for the rest of their lives.

  The hum of traffic grew loud as he came back to the present and realised where he was. Clearing his throat again, he grunted an apology and took a sip of water from a cup Connor had placed in front of him.

  ‘Darren was a good kid, from a good family,’ Todd continued. ‘I coached him at footy, knew his family quite well—they lived on a farm not that far from us. We’d see them at the local community events. From all accounts, he was going places. Talented enough to have a crack at the AFL, brains enough to study whatever he wanted at uni, and he had the makings of a great farmer. Darren could have done anything.’ Staring into the distance, Todd sighed, then brought his gaze back to Connor. ‘He lost his way. Then he got depressed, and it killed him. So if I can stop something like that happening to another family . . .’ The words died in Todd’s throat.

  That conversation with Connor had been a bit over a year ago. One year and twenty-three kids later. Twenty-three kids whose lives he’d made an impact on. It was a good feeling. He had a natural ability to bond with these kids. To draw them out and get them talking. Talking was always the first step.

  He was sure he could support Skye too. He knew a little of what had happened to her. Kids could be very cruel.

  Chapter 28

  When Skye came home from the youth group, Lauren was sitting in front of the computer. She shifted uncomfortably and waved at her daughter through the doorway. Skye threw down her bag and bounced into the study, perching on the desk corner.

  ‘Hey, how was it?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘It was good. Really good.’ She sounded happy.

  ‘Did you meet anyone nice?’

  ‘Um . . . yeah. My counsellor, Todd, is pretty cool. But I’ve only been there one day. I didn’t really get to know the others that well.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Just sat around and chatted. There’s going to be a camp next week. Sounds awesome. I’d really like to go.’

  Camping? Skye had never shown any interest in camping. But they’d never been, so she was probably curious. ‘Hmm. Tell me a bit about it. Is it on a weekend?’ Lauren turned back to the computer.

  ‘I guess so, coz they’re big on encouraging us to go to school—they give us, like, rewards, if we have one hundred percent attendance. Anyway, the camp’s in the wheatbelt somewhere. Just a couple of days. We do all these positive programs and stuff. Supposed to help with our social interaction, learning and employment opportunities.’

  Skye had changed her tone to sound like a newsreader, and Lauren smiled. ‘Well, if it’s part of the program, you should definitely go!’

  ‘What are you reading?’

  ‘Working on the family history. I’ve taken some DNA samples and I’m going to send them off to Ancestry.com to see if they match with anyone on the system.’

  Skye ducked her h
ead and nodded, fiddling with her necklace. ‘Cool. Well, I’ve got stuff to do.’ She left the study and headed up to her room.

  Lauren watched her go. What a difference a conversation made!

  And look at what had happened in such a short time. They’d been a happy, healthy and normal family. Now, Lauren was about twenty lymph nodes lighter, her daughter seemed to be getting back on track after a terrible time, and she’d been given the all-clear for three months. After that, she’d go back to Michelle and have all the tests again, but the signs were positive.

  She smiled. Life was good.

  Of course, she’d always have that fear in the back of her mind that the melanoma would turn up again at some point. From what she’d read in a few online cancer support forums, that was normal. But she wouldn’t let it control her or take her over. Not like she had with Dirk.

  Ah, Dirk. At least he was getting help because of her intervention. That was good. However, she could see that she’d taken it a bit too far. Become too invested in what was going on with him to the detriment of her own family. ‘I’ve told you before,’ Fran would have said to her. ‘It’s all about balance—and balance, my dear, is something you’re not very good at!’

  Leaning back in the chair, Lauren wanted to stretch. But the drain stopped her. Fluid was still dripping into a thick plastic bag under her arm, and she couldn’t wait to get it out. Michelle had told her that it might only be for another few days. That would be more than wonderful, Lauren thought.

  A car sounded in the driveway, and she smiled. She always looked forward to that time of the evening when Dean got home and they had a quiet drink together and talked about the day. It had been a long time since they’d done that. Tonight was the night.

  She grabbed a beer from the fridge and met him in the doorway. He looked so tired. ‘Drinks?’ She held up the bottle and waggled it at him.

  ‘Ha! Here’s my lifesaver. Great idea.’ He bent to give her a kiss.

  They headed to the backyard. After they’d sunk into the cushioned outdoor chairs, Lauren took Dean’s hand and rested her head back. The sun was still high and it was hot, but she felt good sitting beside him, even if they didn’t say anything.

  ‘Skye’s back from Walk This Way,’ Lauren told him.

  ‘How did it go?’ He loosened his tie and took a few gulps of beer.

  Lauren repeated what Skye had told her, then mentioned the camp, which he thought was a great idea.

  He touched Lauren’s cheek. ‘I thought we should go out to celebrate your results tonight, if you’re feeling up to it. What do you say?’

  ‘How about we celebrate here? I’m probably not quite up to going out yet.’

  Dean grinned. ‘Excellent! I’ll cook. What type of takeaway do you want?’

  ‘Oh, that’s your cooking, is it?’

  ‘The best kind!’

  Stu knocked on Skye’s door. ‘The takeaway is here!’ he called.

  There was no answer.

  ‘Skye?’ He pushed the door open.

  The room was empty.

  He went in a little further and looked around. There was no way of knowing if anything was gone, because he hadn’t been in here for so long.

  He went downstairs. ‘Seen Skye?’ he asked his dad.

  ‘No . . . that’s why I asked you to call her. Isn’t she in her room?’

  ‘Um, no. Mum?’

  ‘Hmm,’ Lauren answered from the study.

  ‘You seen Skye?’

  ‘Not since she came home. Try out the back.’

  Dean went out to the front yard, while Stu went to the open back door. ‘Skye?’ It was dark and the outside light didn’t reach the far corners of the yard. ‘Skye?’ he called again. He thought he heard a movement near the fence. Walking down the path and ducking under the clothesline, he stopped and looked around.

  There she was, lying on the grass near the biggest tree, gazing at the stars.

  He didn’t say anything, just dropped down beside her and stared up too.

  ‘There’s so many of them,’ Skye whispered, after a while.

  ‘And a lot more we can’t see coz of the lights,’ Stu said.

  ‘Do you think anyone is looking back at us?’

  He chuckled. ‘Nah, I don’t think there’re any perverts up there.’

  Rolling over, Skye gave him a smile. ‘Funny.’

  ‘How you doing, really?’ Stu asked.

  ‘Shithouse. But okay at the same time. It’s weird.’ She flipped back over.

  ‘Yeah. Thought so.’ He paused. ‘I feel like that too, sometimes, you know.’

  In companionable silence, they lay there for a while.

  ‘I could always cut Billy’s legs off, or maybe his hands,’ Stu offered. ‘Yeah, actually, his hands. Then he wouldn’t be able to text anymore.’

  Skye giggled. ‘Good idea. Start with his thumbs and then go onto his fingers and finally get to his wrists.’

  ‘You’re a sadist!’

  ‘Nah, it would be too good for him.’

  ‘Hey Skye?’ Stu said.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘As much as you’re a pain in the arse, we all love you.’

  Chapter 29

  ‘Here’s cheers,’ Tamara said, clinking her glass against Craig’s.

  ‘Cheers.’

  They both took a long sip and looked at each other. A bubble of happiness rose in Tamara’s chest and she smiled at him. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said honestly. ‘I really have. Seeing you tonight . . . well, it’s very good.’

  ‘Seeing you is better than very good,’ said Craig. He cleared his throat, and Tamara knew this meant that he didn’t want to talk about anything emotional.

  ‘How’s your week been?’ she asked.

  ‘Busy. It’s no fun pouring slabs for houses in summer. I reckon I should shut the business down when it’s really hot. I drank five litres of water today and there’s not been much come out!’

  Tamara giggled. She put her chin on the palm of her hand and watched him.

  ‘What?’ He frowned. ‘Have I got something in my beard?’ His hand went automatically to the bushy hair.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Just looking at you.’

  ‘And how’s your week gone?’

  ‘Not bad. Mum and I are getting on so well now. I’m going round there after work every few nights.’

  ‘You’re not staying with her?’ asked Craig.

  Tamara shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t do that. We’ve been talking a lot, and there’s so much more I understand now. She’s getting old and, you know, I never thought I’d ever get the chance to have a friendship with her.’

  ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Well, she’s been pretty downtrodden. Dad was overbearing and controlling—sometimes violent, I found out. But she’s also very different from what I remember. She’s reminded me of so many things that I’d blocked out. I’d only remembered the bad stuff. My brain just couldn’t recall anything that would make me want to go back there. But a lot of good stuff has come back.’ She smiled. ‘And last night, I dreamed I was standing in the kitchen, stirring a bowl of chocolate cake mixture. Mum was beside me, and we were laughing. I’d been eating it when I wasn’t supposed to. Anyway, turns out it wasn’t a dream. I told Mum and she got out a photo album and showed me a picture of myself with chocolate cake mix all over my face.’

  ‘I bet you looked cute,’ Craig said, smiling too.

  ‘You know, I thought there’d be nothing left of my childhood. No pictures or mementos or anything. But there were. Mum took photos, had them developed on the sly and kept them all. She’s had this huge trunk in the garage, hidden away all these years. Evan probably would have burned it.’ She sipped her drink. ‘He must have hated me.’

  ‘Hate is a pretty strong word,’ Craig said. ‘I don’t think you can say that about your dad. I’m a bloke, right?’

  ‘Hadn’t noticed.’ A grin played around her mouth.

  ‘I’ve chosen not to have
kids—never met the right chick to have them with, I suppose is more accurate—and now I really think I’m too old . . .’

  ‘Got that bit right, buddy! I’m sure not having any kids.’

  Craig smiled and raised his glass to that. ‘I just reckon it would be real hard to know you were firing blanks and then have to face up every day to a kid at the kitchen table that isn’t yours. It would do your head in if you were a small-minded fella. Which obviously your dad was.’ Craig drained his glass. ‘You back at a motel now?’

  Tamara nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Do you, um . . . Have you had any thoughts about . . . ?’

  A cheer went up at the bar. There was a loud clinking of glasses. ‘Barbecue at your place on Sunday!’ someone yelled.

  ‘Look out, Jimbo’s won the meat raffle!’ said Craig, glancing over at one of his employees. ‘He always wins. It’s gotta be rigged!’ “It’s all about luck, Craig, me boy,” he tells me.’ Craig pretended to tip the tatty old gangster hat that Jimbo always wore. ‘“Nothing to do with the way you hold your tongue or pray. It’s just luck!”’ He made his voice the deep baritone of Jimbo’s—a voice that would have been more at home on a radio program than a building site.

  Tamara snorted. Craig had just taken off his employee perfectly.

  ‘How’s Whiskey?’ she asked, ignoring the question that Craig hadn’t finished asking. She knew he’d been going to ask if she had any thoughts about moving back in. Well, she did. Maybe sometime in the next few weeks, but there was still a need to take things slowly.

  ‘Whiskey’s fine. Missing his walks with you, though.’

  Tamara toyed with her drink, wiping at the condensation on the glass. ‘Want to take him for a walk soon? Maybe up in the Perth Hills near the quarry?’

  Craig didn’t hesitate. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That’d be great.’

  Chapter 30

  Skye loaded her bag into the storage area of the bus and turned back to face her parents. They seemed very excited for her. And, weirdly, she felt excited too. Not just because of Todd and her top-secret mission—she actually wanted to know what camping would be like. How embarrassing! But she couldn’t seem to help herself.