Over the weeks and months after Nadia and Eddie moved to Singapore, Zoe tried to re-create stability for Louise. She made sure Lachlan was taking his medication and attending his therapy appointments. He wasn’t completely better, but he was getting there. She often had to bring him back when he stared off into the distance, his face haunted; she held him when he woke from nightmares, sobbing and sweating; she had to stop herself reacting when he flinched at her touch or his rage spilled out at her. But she could also see him, her husband and Louise’s father, slowly returning, and so she held tightly onto the frayed edges of him and their life together. He started looking for another job, and that was enough for Zoe, for now.
One morning, as she stood outside the front door putting Louise in her pram so the three of them could walk to the shops, the postman’s van pulled up. He flung open his door and jumped out, then hurried towards the gate. Zoe met him there, scribbled her signature on the electronic pad, and took the parcel he handed her. She frowned; she wasn’t expecting anything. It was addressed to The McAllister family. She recognised the handwriting, and looked at the postmark: it had been sent from Singapore.
Her hands began to shake and she ran back inside, pushing the pram just inside the door. ‘Lachlan!’
‘Coming!’
She ran into the bedroom, where he was sitting on the bed tying the shoelaces of his sneakers. ‘Lachlan, look!’
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. It’s from Nadia.’
She watched his face whiten. ‘Well, open it.’
Zoe nodded, then sat down next to him, her mouth dry. The rectangular parcel was wrapped in a few layers of thick brown paper. She put a finger under one of the seams and ripped it. She peeled off the paper until she saw the colour turquoise. She stopped, realising what it was. ‘It’s the box,’ she whispered. ‘The box I told you about.’
Lachlan frowned. Zoe tore off the rest of the paper. The turquoise box was more battered than the last time she’d seen it, and the lid was secured by an elastic band. Tucked under the band was a folded piece of thick cream-coloured writing paper. Zoe lifted up the elastic band and removed the paper, then unfolded it.
These belong to you x
She glanced at Lachlan, who took the note from her and read it. Zoe pulled the elastic band off the box, and then removed the lid. On the very top was a photograph of Louise with Nadia. Louise was smiling; Nadia was gazing at her sadly. Zoe’s heart pounded. She knew exactly when it had been taken: she could see the lake in the background, the milky water reflecting the blue sky and the clouds. She held it, trembling, towards Lachlan. ‘She must have taken this before she told us, that day. When she was walking over to give Louise back to us.’
He nodded, and Zoe saw the tears in his eyes. She riffled through the box, through the photos and scans she’d seen that day in Nadia’s house. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, not wanting to damage any of these precious mementoes with her tears. She saw again Nadia’s face in that photo, and thought about what she’d done for Zoe and Lachlan, for Louise, and about how it must have felt to let her go. She leaned into Lachlan and he held her to him. ‘Do you think she kept copies of these, Lachlan? I hate to think of her left with nothing.’
‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled, his voice thick. ‘But she doesn’t need these to remember, Zoe. She hasn’t been left with nothing.’
‘I should have called her. I’ve just let her move away, and now I feel like I’ve lost my sister. It should be me sending her photos of Louise.’ Zoe sniffed. ‘I should call her. Should I call her?’
Lachlan sighed. ‘Not now. There’s plenty of time. Come on.’ He stood up. ‘Let’s look at this later. Louise is waiting for us.’
Zoe hesitated, then left the box on their bed and followed him to the front door. He was right. The photos and documents could wait. Louise was waiting for them.