I shuffle into the bluestone building with everyone from my form room. It’s the first time I’ve visited the church in the city where Balmoral holds its most pious events. They shipped us in on buses, like we’re on an excursion.
The church is forbiddingly gothic, circles and arches and ironwork everywhere, and it’s not difficult to imagine medieval murders and monks and intrigue in its walls.
It’s strange to remember Yin here, when this wasn’t what she believed in, if her refusal to pray during school assembly was any indication.
Yesterday the newspapers printed a photo of Mrs Mitchell at the State Park with Albert and Nelson. Yin’s mum’s face is contorted with grief, her hair flies in the wind. You can’t see the kids’ faces because their heads are bowed over incense and offerings. There’s no sign of Natalia; you wouldn’t know she’d been there at all.
The photo is crisp, moving, beautiful, the perfect capture of a fleeting moment. You could even call it art. But is it right to take a photo of a mother in her private grief? Did Mrs Mitchell want to be seen in that state? Why is it so easy to override what girls and women want, what they might decide if they were given any control?
Inside the church everything is shadowy and stale and hushed. Dark. Not glorious at all.
A huge photo of Yin dominates the lobby.
It’s a better photo than the ones they used in the newspapers and on the TV. She’s standing outside among trees, maybe on school camp, laughing and looking off camera. The sun hits her face; she looks relaxed and happy.
I never knew her properly. Not like that.
There are piles of tributes at the foot of the photo. Flowers, cards, more photos, soft toys.
Milla stands next to the photo and easel, holding a massive basket of lilies. Claire stands nearby with an identical load.
I take my flower and lay it down among the many, and have one quiet moment with Yin, concentrating on her memory.
I hope you understand my photo was for you, I think. You and other girls like you, and all of us for having to live in this shitty world where people don’t value our lives.