Finally, the humidity of February and March had given way to the more comfortable climes of April. Autumn was Lisa’s favourite season in Sydney—still warm, but not sticky. It really was the perfect month for getting married and Lisa experienced a little shiver of delight as she thought about her sister’s upcoming wedding, which was now only three days away. She would miss her dreadfully when she moved to Dubai, but if this was what Jamie wanted then Lisa would back her all the way. One upside—it did present an appealing travel opportunity. Lisa had heard Dubai was fantastic for young families and she’d opened a new savings account to get their travel funds started. So far, there was $200.
Interrupting Lisa’s thoughts, Principal Valentic tapped loudly on the microphone and caused it to squeal in protest. The groans of parents and children were instantaneous and audible. In response, the principal frowned and raised her hand in the air without saying a word. Silence spread like a ripple, and soon the entire school was quiet and every student had their hand raised. Lisa checked to see if the other parents were doing it too but their hands remained firmly in their laps.
She settled back into the hard, plastic chair, Jemima wriggling into her lap, and looked about the hall. The faded photograph of Queen Elizabeth, wearing her ball gown and crown. A small crucifix hanging over the stage and brownwood honour rolls engraved in gold paint with names of the school’s captain and outstanding achievers. In front of her was a sea of navy-checked tunics, shirts that needed tucking in, falling down socks and scuffed shoes. If Lisa closed her eyes, she was ten years old again and back in her own primary school, for her school assemblies had been exactly the same. Even the design of the seats hadn’t changed—that curved plastic that pinched everyone in the back. Yet there was something comforting in the discomfort. It was all very familiar. At least her legs weren’t sticking to the seat in the way they had been over the past few weeks.
‘Thank you, girls and boys. Now let us stand for the national anthem.’
As the kids rose to their feet, excited tittering broke out again and prompted a rash of shushing from teachers sitting guard on both sides of the hall. This time, the parents around Lisa stood too. There weren’t many—maybe thirty or forty or so, which wasn’t a bad turnout considering it was 2.30 pm on a weekday when most parents would be at work. The active-wear mums were there, of course, sunglasses on heads and ponytails momentarily at ease. They’d given her warm waves of welcome on the way into the hall, which gave Lisa a flicker of confidence. Heather had kissed her on the cheek as if they were long-lost friends. Finally, Lisa felt like she was fitting in and finding her feet. Ellie and Ava were happy, and after the ridiculous escapade to the pre-school where Melissa worked, Lisa had given herself permission to take a break from worrying about the search for Ellie’s mum. After all, Jeff was investigating. If Missy were to be found, the professional would find her.
‘Girls and boys, YOU are the ones in charge of your bodies, so if you are talking then you have made a choice and it is a bad choice,’ boomed the principal.
The tittering stopped and the singing of the anthem began. Lisa was confident with the first verse but found herself mumbling the second. Whoever sang the second? She’d almost forgotten there was one.
She sat down and pulled out a packet of sultanas for Jemima to guzzle while the Year Six class performed a role-play about bullying.
‘Take a stand, lend a hand,’ they shouted at the end, fists pumping the air. They looked a bit too angry, Lisa decided, but Principal Valentic was effusive in her praise.
‘Thank you, Year Six. You have reminded us that St John’s is a 100 per cent bully-free zone.’ She paused. ‘What are we, St John’s?’
‘A 100 per cent bully-free zone,’ shouted three hundred and fifty children with gusto.
Next were the merit awards. Lisa had gleaned from Ava and Ellie that two awards per class were given at every assembly. She leant forward. Hope sprouted in her stomach like a germinating seed. She had a feeling something great was about to happen for the Wheeldon family. It was their turn for some good luck, wasn’t it?
The kindy awards came and went without mention of Ava’s name. Never mind. There was still a chance.
‘Now, let’s move on to Year One.’ Principal Valentic peered over her glasses, a wad of certificates in her hand. ‘And the first certificate goes to …’ she paused. ‘Ellie Jones, for being a kind friend to all, and achieving ten out of ten on her spelling test. Ellie, you are a reading whiz, says your teacher Mrs Booth.’
Spontaneously, Lisa started to clap. Loudly. She felt her heart growing too big for her chest. She was so proud of the little girl making her way quietly to the stage. From where she was sitting, she could also see Ava, grinning madly and waving.
My gorgeous girls. My beautiful, beautiful girls.
‘Excuse me,’ said Principal Valentic sternly. ‘But there is to be no clapping until ALL the awards have been read out.’ She removed her glasses and fixed Lisa with her stare. ‘Parents included.’ All three hundred and fifty children were now glaring at her. Lisa tried to sink further into the seat and hung her head behind Jemima’s back.
Oh gosh, how embarrassing.
Lisa looked around. She was the only one who’d clapped, but there was a woman holding her phone in readiness to take a photo of Ellie.
Good idea, thought Lisa, rummaging in her handbag. It was in there somewhere, among the muesli bars, spare undies and wet-wipes.
Ah, there. She retrieved the phone and snapped a picture of a beaming Ellie standing proudly on the stage, holding her certificate. Lisa waved but Ellie seemed not to see her at the back of the hall.
Guess who got a merit award? she texted to Scott, before attaching the photo.
She looked around again and Heather gave her a wink of congratulations that Lisa returned by mouthing Thank you. Next to Heather, the woman in the hat and sunglasses was still taking photos.
Bit odd to take so many photos of someone else’s child.
As Lisa tried to get a better look at the woman’s face, she quickly lowered the phone as if embarrassed to have been caught.
‘Mummy, more ’tanas,’ wailed Jemima, flinging the empty box to the ground and earning another disapproving look from Principal Valentic.
Lisa again rummaged in her bag, hoping to find a stray pack of sultanas. Her daughter’s dried-fruit habit was really getting out of control—two packets a day!
In the depths of the bag, she discovered a small packet of roasted fava beans that her daughter dived upon like a starved seagull. Once Jemima had settled back and was munching away happily, Lisa turned around again.
The woman who’d been taking the photos of Ellie was gone.
Lisa tried to focus on Principal Valentic, who had now moved on to Year Two but she found it impossible to concentrate, especially when there was no chance of another Wheeldon being called.
Who was the woman taking photos?
In the midst of foraging for Jem’s snack, Lisa hadn’t had a chance to get a good look.
But why was she taking shots of Ellie? And why did she leave so quickly?
The assembly was only open to parents and grandparents, though there was no one to actually check ID on the way in. But how would anyone outside of the school know it was happening? It had to be another school mum. But who?
The intrusive trill of a mobile phone interrupted her thoughts.
Someone forgot to put their phone to silent. How embarrassing.
The phone got louder. Three hundred and fifty pairs of eyes swivelled to the parents sitting at the back.
Why don’t they switch it off, really and truly.
‘Mummy, your phone’s ringing.’ Jemima held it up.
Oh bugger, I must have passed it to her when I was looking for food.
Lisa snatched quickly at the phone and started frantically pressing buttons to switch it off.
‘Hello? Hello, Lisa? It’s Jeff,’ said a voice at the other end of the line.
Oh, great. She’d managed to answer it.
‘I can’t talk right now. I’m in an assembly,’ Lisa hissed into the phone.
‘Wait! Don’t hang up. I’ve found something out about Missy. I’ve got appointments today but can you meet me tomorrow night? I’ll text you the address?’
‘Yes. Fine.’ Lisa hung up, double-checked the phone was on silent and quickly read the message from Jeff.
Meet me tomorrow at Nitecap, 6 pm. J
The assembly closed with the singing of the school song and Lisa milled out the door with the other parents. She needed to find Heather, and ask her if she knew the mystery woman in the hat and sunglasses.
There she was, over by the statue of Mary. Clutching Jemima’s hand, Lisa sidled up to her.
‘Heather, hi.’
‘Lisa, darling. Congratulations!’ Heather kissed her enthusiastically on the cheek. ‘An exciting assembly for you! That little Ellie seems to have made quite the first impression.’
‘She’s a special little girl.’
‘Now, don’t be modest,’ said Heather, giving her a gentle dig in the shoulder. ‘She could never have got that certificate if it weren’t for you and Scott. Not with that mother of hers.’ Heather sniffed. ‘I mean, where could she be?’
‘I’m not sure about that,’ Lisa mused. The more she got to know Ellie, the more evidence she saw of a child who’d been extremely well loved, well educated and well disciplined, which made the whole situation all the more puzzling. It was something she couldn’t quite put into words and she wasn’t about to try in the milieu of mothers who were now moving at slow speed towards the school gate from where they could collect their little charges.
‘Any update from Jeff?’ Heather enquired.
‘Actually, we’re catching up tomorrow night. He says he has something for me,’ said Lisa.
‘Where are you meeting?’
‘Some bar called Nitecap? I’ve never heard of it, but he says it’ll be quiet at that time.’
Heather nodded. ‘It’s one of his go-to places. They do a really fabulous Negroni. You must have one.’
Lisa had zero intention of drinking a cocktail. She was nervous enough as it was. What had he found out?
The investigation had taken longer than expected, and with each week that passed, Jeff had sent her apologetic text messages to let her know he was still looking. No rush, she’d told him. Quite frankly, she was a little bit relieved at the blow-out. Jeff worked for a flat-rate fee, a thousand bucks for a ‘find’, so there was no danger of Lisa receiving a nasty bill that she had no hope of hiding from Scott. No, the longer Ellie stayed with them, the more torn Lisa became about finding her mother, because finding her would mean losing Ellie and Lisa had come to love the little girl as her own. Saying goodbye would be a wrench. But then again, as Scott had reasonably pointed out, they couldn’t just keep her indefinitely. At some point, people were bound to ask questions.
Lisa touched Heather’s arm. ‘Say, who was that mother sitting next to you in assembly? I couldn’t quite see her properly.’
‘The one in the cap? No idea. I barely gave her a second glance, but I don’t think I know her.’
‘Really? You’ve never seen her before?’
‘I don’t think so. She looked quite young, so I assumed she might be one of the nannies, you know, sent along by a guilt-stricken parent in case of an award.’ Heather stopped. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘She was taking photos of Ellie, and it struck me as being a bit odd. I just wondered if she might …’ Lisa trailed off. ‘Did you see a nose ring?’
‘I wasn’t really looking. Let me ask the girls. They might have been paying more attention.’
‘Please, don’t.’ Lisa put her hand on Heather’s arm and looked around, concerned someone might be listening. But the other mothers were too wrapped up in discussions about homework (too little) and the dreadful inadequacy of the infant playground. A fundraiser was needed. Stat!
‘Why not? It might have been her. It might have been the woman I saw at the carnival.’ Heather frowned. ‘Don’t you want to know?’
Well, sort of. I think so. I don’t know. Maybe not. Oh, god. What kind of terrible person am I to deprive a child of their parent?
Lisa sighed. ‘All right. You can ask the girls if they know her.’ She squeezed Heather’s elbow. ‘But please don’t mention me or Ellie.’
Heather winked. ‘Leave it with me.’
As Lisa monitored Jemima playing hide-and-seek with another three-year-old, Heather worked the crowd like a silent vacuum cleaner, moving from mother to mother with quiet, information-sucking efficiency. Within minutes she was back and breathless with excitement.
‘The woman’s a complete Jane Doe. No one knows her. How odd!’
But before Lisa could say another word, the school bell went and the gates opened, bringing with it a tsunami of children sweeping over the waiting parents and spilling out into the street where a line of cars was already waiting to whisk them off to swimming and ballet and karate.
Only Lisa remained still, like a statue, sensing that if she were to move an inch she might get swept out to sea.