Darling Girls, page 16
‘And you wanted to find us . . . why?’ Alicia said.
‘Because I care about you girls. I’ve thought about you a lot over the years. I’ve worried about you. You had such a rough start to life. You probably won’t believe this, but I really did try to help you.’
‘We know you tried,’ Norah said, stepping forward. ‘You tried isolating us, humiliating us, terrifying us . . .’
Alicia’s and Jessica’s shoulders were touching now, preventing Norah from coming closer to Miss Fairchild; her sister reminded Jessica of an angry dog being restrained by a lead. Jessica wasn’t sure how long they would have succeeded in holding her back had Patel not stepped in.
‘I’m Detective Patel,’ she said, extending her hand to Miss Fairchild. ‘We spoke on the phone.’
‘Of course,’ Miss Fairchild said. ‘Nice to meet you, Detective.’
‘Why don’t I walk you out?’ Patel said to Miss Fairchild. ‘What time are you coming in tomorrow?’
They all watched as Patel guided Miss Fairchild towards the door. It was a smooth manoeuvre on Patel’s behalf, but Jessica could tell Miss Fairchild wasn’t happy to be ushered away. Even after twenty-five years, Jessica still knew how to read her.
As Jessica watched them go, many things ran through her mind. Foremost was Miss Fairchild’s comment to her: You look great. She was ashamed to realise how much it had pleased her.
27
ALICIA
‘That was . . . intense,’ Norah said as they walked back to the car.
It was indeed intense. So intense that Alicia still couldn’t find words. Even seeing Miss Fairchild’s face after all these years – trying to match it with the face she’d once known – was enough to make Alicia feel depleted and furious at once.
Jessica, perhaps feeling the same, slid into the driver’s seat in silence.
‘I don’t get it,’ Norah was saying. ‘Why is Miss Fairchild cooperating with police?’
‘She’s not cooperating,’ Alicia muttered. ‘She’s trying to bury us.’
Norah opened the back door of the car and the dogs leaped inside.
‘How are you doing, Alicia?’ Jessica asked, when Alicia climbed into the passenger seat. She was clearly referring to the fact that Alicia had cried.
‘I’m fine,’ she said automatically. Then she shook her head. ‘I’m not fine. The bones they found are from a child.’
‘I –’ Jessica started.
But Alicia wasn’t finished. ‘It changes everything, doesn’t it?’
Jessica, who still hadn’t started the engine, rested her head against the steering wheel. ‘I don’t know about that.’
It was true that they didn’t know anything for sure. And yet, Alicia couldn’t shake the feeling that in discovering the body was that of a child, they’d discovered a missing piece to an otherwise completed puzzle. Now, they had to pull the puzzle apart and start over, putting it back together piece by piece. Only then would they figure out exactly where they’d gone wrong.
The accommodation at Driftwood Cottages was set around a central grassy car park, the units connected to each other by a pebbled walkway. The inside of their three-bedroom cottage was as you’d expect – blue-and-white 1980s bathrooms with plastic-wrapped soap and water glasses. Beds with worn, frilly linen, gauzy sheer curtains and framed prints that Alicia had seen on special at the general store.
As each cottage had its own entrance, Norah wasn’t required to give her service-dog spiel to anyone at reception – a fact that seemed to disappoint her no end.
‘Those dogs had better stay in your room,’ Jessica said when they were inside, collapsed on the couches, staring at their phones. Jessica was sitting up straight, her posture stiff. Converse tried to climb onto her lap at one point, and Alicia decided that if Jessica allowed it she’d call an ambulance, but thankfully Jessica shoved him off.
‘If I wake up with a dog beside me, Norah, I swear to God . . .’
‘Of course they’ll stay in my room,’ Norah said, with a notable lack of confidence. Then she chuckled a little.
Jessica looked like she was about to say more, perhaps even issue a threat, but Alicia was distracted by her ringing phone.
‘Sorry, I have to take this,’ she said. She walked to the corner of the room and lifted it to her ear. ‘Hey, Aaron. Theo giving you grief?’
‘Twenty-four hours a day.’ Alicia heard the affection in his voice. ‘One upside of ageing out will be getting a little peace and quiet.’
Alicia had received official confirmation this afternoon that Theo’s parents had relinquished their parental rights, which meant he’d soon be moved to a permanent placement – leaving Trish and Aaron, whom he clearly felt safe with. It broke Alicia’s heart.
‘By the way, Trish said I can stay with her until the end of the school year, even after I turn eighteen.’
‘That’s great,’ Alicia said.
‘Yeah,’ Aaron said. ‘I’m pretty lucky.’
Alicia felt something twist inside. ‘No you’re not.’
Aaron was quiet, likely confused by her comment.
‘Trish is a wonderful foster mother, and it’s very generous of her to keep you on, but you’re not lucky. You lost your parents. You lost your grandmother. You’ve spent the last few years living in uncertainty. Having a stable home until you finish school is actually a lot less than you deserve. I want you to remember that, okay?’
Alicia felt her sisters looking at her, which meant she’d probably been a little too strident in her delivery. But so what if she had? Love and security were the most basic of rights. Forcing these kids to believe they were lucky to have that was even more damaging than what some of them experienced in care, Alicia thought.
‘O-kay,’ Aaron said, sounding amused. ‘I’m not lucky. Poor me.’
Alicia smiled. She knew he’d understood her point.
‘So the reason I called,’ Aaron went on, ‘is that I was wondering what was going to happen to Theo after he leaves here.’
Alicia sighed. ‘I don’t know yet, mate.’
‘It’s just that . . . I was wondering . . . if I applied to be a foster parent once I turned eighteen, could – could I take him?’
A lump formed in Alicia’s throat. She realised she was in danger of crying for the second time that night. ‘That’s sweet of you. But what about uni?’
‘I don’t know. I guess I thought that if I did foster him I could get a job instead. Then I could rent an apartment for us. I know you get some money if you’re a foster parent – maybe that could help with the rent?’
‘Aaron, listen . . .’
‘I just want to know if it’s possible,’ he said.
He sounded resolute. Which meant Alicia owed him a straight answer. ‘All right. In theory, yes, it’s possible. But it would take time to be approved as a foster parent. And by the time that happened, in all likelihood Theo would already have been placed somewhere else.’
‘Oh.’ Aaron sounded both disappointed and relieved.
‘Listen,’ Alicia said, ‘I’m his case worker, and I’m not going to let him go to just any family, all right? If he’s moved to a new placement, I’ll make sure he gets the best family possible. I promise.’
Aaron didn’t respond. Through the phone she heard him swallow.
‘You’re a sweet kid, you know that?’
‘Whatever,’ he said, his adolescent voice back again. ‘I was just wondering, that’s all.’
‘Call me if you wonder anything else,’ Alicia said.
When she ended the call, she saw that Jessica and Norah were still looking at her. Jessica was leaning back against the pillows, almost reclining. Two dogs sat on top of Norah, making her look like a three-headed beast.
‘That was nice, what you said,’ Norah told her. Alicia couldn’t see her face behind the dogs. ‘About what a child deserves.’
‘Well,’ Alicia said, ‘it’s the truth.’
‘For what it’s worth, I think a child would be lucky to have you as their foster mother.’
It sounded like the dog had said it. Which was odd, but still nice. Perhaps this was why Alicia didn’t respond with her usual spiel about how the best way for her to help kids was to be a social worker. Instead, she merely said, ‘Thanks, Norah. That means a lot.’
In her bedroom, Alicia folded one of the thin pillows in half and lay down on the bed. She’d been waiting all day to listen to Meera’s message. It felt like an indulgent treat, after the day they’d had.
‘Hey,’ the message said. ‘Not urgent but I received a petition to terminate parental rights today for Theo Moretti. Give me a call Monday and I can talk you through the timeline and next steps.’
It was an entirely businesslike message, but Alicia closed her eyes as she listened. There was something about Meera’s voice – calm, clear and intelligent – that soothed Alicia. For this reason, she listened to the message twice more before she returned the call.
Meera answered after just one ring. ‘There you are.’
‘Here I am.’
If listening to Meera’s voicemail had been soothing, having her on the phone in real time was a trip to a day spa. Alicia imagined her in front of the television, her laptop on her knees, propping the phone between her shoulder and ear. It was possible she had a pencil in her hair.
In the next room, the dogs started barking.
‘Is Norah there?’ Meera asked. She’d met both Jessica and Norah one day at a small gathering for Alicia’s birthday – and Alicia had talked about them both enough for her to know about Norah’s dogs and Jessica’s neuroses. Still, Alicia found it touching that she remembered these details.
‘No. Well, yes. We’re away. Jessica too.’
‘Oh, tell them I said hi,’ Meera said. ‘Where are you guys?’
‘Port Agatha.’
A pause. Meera knew very little about Alicia’s upbringing, but she did know that Alicia had grown up in foster care – and where. As for the rest, she’d had enough experience with child protection to be able to fill in the gaps. ‘Hey, look, we can talk about this on Monday. I just thought that maybe you were as sad as me, working on a Saturday night . . .’
‘I am definitely as sad as you,’ Alicia said. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and grabbed another pillow. ‘In fact, I was going to call you too.’
‘About Theo?’
‘No, about another kid. His name is Aaron and he’s ageing out soon.’ Alicia felt weirdly emotional. ‘He’s a good kid. And it got me thinking . . . Hypothetically speaking, if I wanted to foster him . . . could I?’
Several beats passed. Alicia could practically see Meera’s eyebrows rise.
‘Hypothetically,’ she repeated. ‘I said hypothetically.’
‘Okay,’ Meera said, clearly not believing her. ‘Well, in that case, no. You can’t foster a kid once they turn eighteen.’
Alicia sighed. It was what she’d expected. In a way she was relieved to hear it. Relieved and also . . . bitterly disappointed.
‘But you could adopt him.’
Alicia blinked. ‘I could? Even if he’s eighteen?’
‘There’s no age restriction on adoption,’ Meera said. ‘It’s unusual to adopt an adult, but it happens – for sentimental or financial reasons, or occasionally if there is an adult with additional needs. Sometimes it’s for inheritance purposes. The adoptee would have to agree to it, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Alicia said, wondering if Aaron would. Then she couldn’t believe she was wondering. It was hypothetical.
‘Does an eighteen-year-old even need a mum?’ Alicia mused aloud. But it was a silly question. She knew they did. Even at thirty-eight, Alicia would have killed for a mum.
Meera must have thought it was silly too, because she didn’t respond. Instead, she said, ‘Tell me more about Aaron.’
Alicia shrugged. ‘Honestly, I don’t know much, other than that he was raised by his gran. We’ve only met a few times.’
‘It’s not always the length of time that’s important,’ Meera said. ‘Sometimes you just know.’
As the silence settled between them, Alicia wondered if they were still talking about Aaron. She found herself wishing they weren’t. But that was stupid. A waste of a wish.
‘Right,’ Meera said. ‘Shall I go do a little research into adult adoption?’
‘No,’ Alicia said quickly. ‘It was hypothetical.’
But Alicia knew Meera was probably looking into it as they spoke. It was just the kind of thing Meera did.
‘Meera,’ she heard herself say.
‘Yeah?’
She wanted to say, I love you. I want to be with you. I want to feel worthy of love, and unafraid to love someone in return. I want that with you. But instead she said, ‘I’ll speak to you Monday.’ Then she ended the call and banged her head repeatedly against the bedhead.
28
NORAH
Couch, Converse and Thong were already asleep on her bed, but Norah was wide awake. As if today hadn’t been stressful enough, she’d just checked her voicemail – bastard that it was – and found a message from a police officer in Melbourne.
‘Miss Anderson, it’s Constable Perkins from Victoria Police. We’d like to talk to you at your earliest convenience about a complaint we’ve had regarding an assault that occurred in Melbourne yesterday. When you get this message, can you please give me a call on . . .’
‘Kevin, you son of a bitch,’ she said out loud.
The unpleasant sensation she’d felt after receiving his earlier message returned with a vengeance. He’d done it. He’d fucking done it. He’d actually gone to the cops. She hadn’t thought the little weasel had it in him.
Her face became hot and her heart started pounding loudly enough to make her aware of each individual beat. She wanted to hit something . . . preferably Kevin’s face . . . but she had to make do with punching the mattress instead as she tried to corral her thoughts.
The ramifications came to Norah in layers. Not only would she likely be charged with assault, there was also her community corrections order to think about, and the fact that this offence might well send her to jail. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the cops wanted to talk to her and her sisters about a dead child found buried under the home they’d grown up in! With her criminal record, an active assault charge and a community corrections order . . . this could look very bad for her indeed.
She took a deep breath. Jessica was forever taking deep breaths. It never seemed to help her, but given the lack of other options, Norah decided to try it herself. It proved surprisingly effective. As she sucked in air, everything suddenly became clear. She’d just have to deal with it. She’d have liked to deal with it by giving Kevin a swift kick in the balls, of course, but fighting wasn’t going to help her this time. She needed to be more resourceful. The priority was making this go away, and fast. And as Norah had learned when she was young, sometimes that meant gritting your teeth and doing what you had to do.
She glanced around the room. There was a full-length mirror in one corner of her room that would do nicely, she decided. The lighting in the room wasn’t great, but she had to work with what was on hand. She stripped off her clothes and arranged herself on the floor with her knees angled just so. It was quite arty, really. She probably could have submitted it to a magazine. It was certainly good enough to get an assault complaint dropped.
She attached the photo to a text and wrote:
I made my clothes go away. Now make the charges do the same.
She pressed send then threw the phone across the room, knocking a lamp off the bedside table and sending it crashing to the floor. Fuck you, Kevin, she thought.
‘Everything okay?’ Alicia called from the next room.
‘Fine,’ she called back.
She didn’t see the point of involving her sisters in this. They had enough to worry about.
29
JESSICA
Even before she got into bed, Jessica knew she wouldn’t fall asleep that night. The bones belonged to a child. Maybe even a baby. A baby.
This changes everything, Alicia had said. Jessica had always found it difficult to think about her upbringing at Wild Meadows, and there was no question that this new piece of information – that a baby had been buried under the house – made it infinitely more difficult. But Alicia was wrong when she said it changed everything. It wasn’t possible. There had to be another explanation for what happened to this child or baby. One that had nothing to do with them.
Jessica pottered about the bedroom, trying her best to re-create her home routine – showering, brushing her teeth, taking her Lexapro and melatonin, washing her face – hoping to convince her body that it was time to sleep. But of course, her body was too clever. If anything, it was insulted by her pathetic attempts and more determined to stay awake. Norah, judging by the snoring sound that travelled through the wall, wasn’t having the same trouble. As for Alicia, who knew?
Jessica was concerned about her. It had been so shocking to see her cry. For as long as Jessica had known her – or since her grandmother had died, at least – Alicia had kept her emotions so tightly contained that even she couldn’t access them, let alone express them outwardly. It had always troubled Jessica. Norah’s troubles were right out there for everyone to see. Alicia’s troubles were better hidden but just as serious. Jessica needed to keep an eye on her. If she started to spiral, Jessica wanted to be on hand.
On the bedside table, her phone lit up with a voicemail message and Jessica lunged for it, desperate for something to distract her from her worries.
But sadly, the message just brought more worries.
‘Jessica, it’s Cate McDonald. Can you call me ASAP? I’ve just had a conversation with Debbie Montgomery-Squires and –’
Jessica ended the message and swore out loud. Could she sue Debbie for defamation? Although Jessica was pretty sure you had to prove the person was spreading lies about you, and Jessica wasn’t sure she’d be able to do that. She scrolled through her phone in search of her lawyer’s details and fired off an email, cc-ing Sonja. As soon as she heard back, she’d decide how to handle this.
