In the car, Ellie was subdued but Lisa filled the silence with chatter about tooth fairies and TV shows that the little girl might have seen. Lisa’s best conversations with her daughters tended to happen during car journeys. It was probably something to do with the lack of eye contact and the fact that Lisa was usually distracted by the act of actually driving to pay too much attention to what they were saying. True to the contrariness of children, the half-heartedness of the whole situation seemed to spur them into dropping the occasional gold nugget of information. But not Ellie. She answered Lisa’s questions politely but offered nothing beyond what was being asked. Yes, she had lost a tooth. And yes, the tooth fairy had come and left her $2. No, Tinkerbell was not her favourite TV show. She didn’t really like television. Actually, they didn’t even own a TV. Or an iPad.
No TV and no iPad. The mind boggled. Though Lisa hated the idea of filling her children’s sparkly brains with mush, she couldn’t really imagine life without it—so powerful was its hold over the children with its ability to settle fights (If you don’t give Jemima the Barbie, there’ll be no iPad for a week!), offer comfort (There, there. Will your ouchy feel better if we turn on the TV?) and generally provide Lisa with a few minutes of peace and quiet each day. She was careful to follow the recommended ‘doses’ (no more than two hours’ screen time per day) but couldn’t quite imagine getting rid of it altogether. Was Ellie’s mum one of those enviable women who never tired of Play-Doh and Barbies? Oh, how Lisa would have loved to be that perfect mother! She resolved to cut back Ava and Jemima’s screen time to thirty minutes per day.
‘This is it.’ Ellie sat up in her seat and craned her neck to get a better view out of the window. They were in front of a maroon-brick bungalow that had an air of benign neglect. Two-foot high weeds sprouted from the front wall, which had developed a drunken lean. The blinds were drawn, like closed eyelids. Lisa’s heart sank. Either the house had not been lived in for a long time or its occupants had lost the will to administer basic maintenance.
‘Are you sure this is it, honey?’
‘Yes. We live out the back in the granny flat.’
With the unclicking of the seatbelt, Lisa felt her spirits rise. There was still hope. Perhaps the house was suffering neglect but that didn’t mean the granny flat was too.
‘It’s up here.’
Lisa followed Ellie’s pale legs up the driveway. The child moved quickly, matching Lisa’s own rising excitement levels. Out the back was a double garage, in the same auburn brick as the house. It had clearly been converted—the roller door removed and replaced by two rectangular window frames, all in fairly decent condition compared to the house. Ellie stopped and turned to Lisa. ‘Mummy said she was leaving today, so I don’t think she’ll be here.’
‘Let’s check anyway, shall we?’
Ellie knocked. ‘Mummy, Mummy. It’s me. I’m back from the party.’
Silence.
This time Lisa knocked. ‘Hello, is anybody in there? It’s Lisa Wheeldon. And I have your daughter, Ellie.’
Silence. So much silence that Lisa felt sure she could hear her own heart pounding. Remembering Scott’s insistence that she call, she reached in her pocket for her phone.
Damn. Empty.
She knocked again and waited. Never had she wanted so much for a door to be opened. For a face, any face, to greet her and tell her that everything was okay, that it was all a misunderstanding. That she, Lisa Wheeldon, had not been caught up in what was starting to feel like one of the strangest experiences of her life, second only to the night the police had come knocking on their door to break the news about her parents.
‘I told you she wouldn’t be here,’ said Ellie neutrally. ‘Let’s just go back to your place.’
‘Hold on, honey. Let’s check through the windows.’
Ellie sighed. ‘There’s nothing in there. We packed it all up last night. Mummy says we’ll live in a new place when she comes back.’
Lisa felt a cold chill wrapping around her stomach.
‘Let’s just see, shall we?’ Even to herself, Lisa’s voice sounded falsely bright. She took Ellie’s hand and led her to the window where, thankfully, the curtains had been left open.
The place was empty. Lifeless. So clean that it was almost creepy, as if Ellie’s mother had tried to remove all evidence of their existence.
Ellie stood on her tip-toes and balanced against Lisa. ‘See. I told you. Can we go now?’ She slipped her hand into Lisa’s and started pulling her away. But Lisa’s eyes remained glued to the window and she resisted Ellie’s pull. It was as if she was witnessing a car crash. Time had slowed. Everything was beyond her control. It was like that dream she sometimes had, where she was in the car with her mum and dad as it slipped off the road and careered towards a towering gum tree, the trunk of it appearing as a headless ghost in the glare of the car’s headlights.
‘Just one more minute, darl.’ She gently pulled Ellie to the window again. She blinked hard and took another look, hoping this time that she would see chairs, a table, pictures on the walls, a kettle and maybe a toaster.
Nothing. Her eyes had not deceived her. There was truly nothing to see.
They trudged back to the car.
‘Who lives in the house, honey?’ Lisa paused with her fingers at the lock.
‘No one. It’s empty.’
This time Lisa didn’t even bother to check, for she knew the little girl to be telling the truth.