by Wendy James
‘I’M AFRAID WE’VE GOT PROBLEMS.’
Hal had arrived unannounced. His company, even with the prospect of bad news, was at least a distraction. It was early in the evening, and I was trying to persuade a contrary Mary that having to eat dinner before dessert did not constitute a form of torture outlawed by the UN. Chip had driven to Orange to attend some sort of agricultural equipment fair over the weekend, and I was tired and short on patience. I was also feeling lonely.
‘What now?’
‘Let’s go worst problems first, shall we?’ He didn’t wait for me to respond. ‘Sally O’Halloran.’
‘Has she refused to be a witness?’ I could imagine she’d be loath to stand up in court and talk. Mary’s carer was a quiet, sometimes surly woman, who had never been entirely friendly towards either me or Mary. ‘Can’t we subpoena her?’
‘I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that.’ Hal took a deep breath, gazing at a point somewhere to the left of me. ‘She is a witness as it turns out. Only not for us.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It seems she made a statement to the police herself. Quite independently. For the prosecution.’
ABDUCTED: THE ELLIE CANNING STORY
A documentary by HeldHostage Productions © 2019
SALLY O’HALLORAN INTERVIEW: TRANSCRIPT
I grew up in Enfield Wash, lived here all my life. I work part-time at the nursing home in town, and I do a bit of private work too, looking after old folk in their homes. I was hired to look after Mary Squires three days a week. I’d looked after the old lady for about six months and even though I didn’t know it, I was there when Ellie Canning was imprisoned down in the basement. I got a huge shock when I heard what happened.
It’s weird how things become clear. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but a few times when I was out there, just after the July holidays, I actually heard these noises – it must’ve been the girl crying or shouting – coming from the basement. I’d been told from the start that I shouldn’t go down there – and the door was always kept locked. When I brung it up with Suzannah, she just said that it must have been a bird or something, maybe a possum, and not to worry about it. So I didn’t. But when I mentioned it to the old lady she said it was ‘the girl’. I never thought she was telling the truth – she said so many crazy things – but she was, wasn’t she?
As soon as I worked out the dates, I contacted the police.
It’s terrible to think, isn’t it, that that poor girl was down there all that time. And I could of done something about it. I have these nightmares sometimes.
I guess I was shocked about it being Suzannah Wells? I mean, she seemed okay. She wasn’t all that friendly – she never wanted me to stay back and have a chat or anything like that. If anyone had asked I’d have said she was a bit up herself, maybe. But I had no reason to be suspicious. But why would someone like her move to Enfield Wash? It’s a bit strange when you think about it.
And you know, her poor mum’s probably had a lucky escape, now I think of it. Suzannah was always asking me about The Franchise, when it was likely a room would come up. Who knows what she might of done once she really got desperate to get rid of the old lady. I mean, she had a new bloke, and a baby on the way. Who’d want their demented mum around? I feel sorry for that poor old lady. When she’s not in a mood she’s as sweet and docile as they come. And what’s going to happen to her now?
SUZANNAH: OCTOBER 2018
‘WHAT WAS THE OTHER BAD NEWS, HAL? YOU SAID THERE WAS more.’
I was still recovering from the Sally O’Halloran bombshell. I’d made a cup of tea for me, poured a whisky for Hal, called Mary in from the verandah and supervised her painfully slow eating of lunch. She was back out with the dogs now, no doubt filling them in on her exploits in the nineties.
‘It’s your mother’s police interview. It’s been judged admissible.’
Mary’s police interview on the day I was arrested had been in a legal limbo, with Hal claiming that her testimony was undermined by her psychological condition, and the prosecution determined to prove that she was completely compos mentis.
‘How can it be judged admissible?’
‘Apparently they’ve got expert opinion on their side. According to their experts, based on a report by her doctor here and in Sydney, Mary’s condition fluctuates. Basically, if she can engage in coherent conversation and appears to be lucid, she probably is.’
‘Oh. But I don’t understand why it’s so important to them anyway? What on earth did she say?’
Hal pushed a file across the table. ‘Here. Read the transcript and you’ll see what I’m worried about. It’d be hilarious – if it wasn’t.’
This is a transcript of a police interview between Mary Squires and Detective Inspector Hugh Stratford of the Enfield Wash Local Command in regards to the abduction of Eleesha (Ellie) Britney Canning, and tendered to the Lower Hunter District Court for the purpose of committal. The interview took place in the presence of Hal Gascoyne, solicitor, acting on behalf of the witness.
HS
Miss Squires, thank you for coming.
HG
I’d just like to have my objections to this interview noted. As you know, my client suffers from a form of dementia. Her memory is completely unreliable and her understanding is severely compromised. I doubt that her statement will be of any evidentiary utility.
HS
Thank you, Mr Gascoyne. Your objections have been noted.
HG
And if she becomes in any way distressed the interview will be terminated.
HS
Noted. Can we begin?
MS
Go for it, Mr Pig.
HS
Miss Squires, can you tell me whether this young lady has ever been in your home? For the record I am showing the witness a copy of a recent photograph of Ellie Canning.
MS
I like her hair.
HS
Has this young lady ever been in your home?
MS
Maybe.
HS
Can you be more precise?
MS
Maybe she has been in my home. I mean it’s possible, isn’t it? It’s not like I know everyone who’s ever been there. That house is old. And what home are you talking about, anyway? Maybe you need to be a bit more precise.
HG
He means the house you live in now, Mary. The farmhouse. Where you live with Suzannah.
MS
I don’t know why she bought that old dump. Actually, I do. It was so she could get into his pants. What’s his name? Mr Fish and Chips. Is he your brother?
HG
Indeed he is.
MS
You don’t look alike, do you? Girls never make passes at boys who wear glasses. But I wouldn’t mind your brother’s slippers under my bed, as my mum used to say. He’s screwing my daughter, so I guess he’s off limits.
HG
Mary, Detective Stratford wants to know if the girl in the photo has ever been in your house. The one you live in now. With Suzannah.
MS
That old pile? It’s so fucking cold. Don’t you think it’s cold? You’ve been in there, haven’t you? It’s the coldest place I’ve ever lived, and I’ve been in some cold places. New York. London. Paris. But, Jesus. This place. You’ve been there, haven’t you, Mr Pig? It’d freeze the tits off a brass monkey, ’scuse my French.
HS
The girl, Miss Squires. The girl in the photo. Has she ever been in the house?
MS
What the fuck is a brass monkey, anyway? And since when do monkeys have tits?
HS
Miss Squires, I’d like you to concentrate. If you could just look at the photo one more time, and tell me if you recognise the girl. For the record I am showing the witness a photograph of Eleesha Canning.
MS
This photo?
HS
Yes.
MS
She’s a pre
tty little thing isn’t she? Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
HS
But do you know her, Mary? Has she been in your home?
MS
Of course I know her. She’s the little bitch who’s got my Chanel pyjamas.
ABDUCTED: THE ELLIE CANNING STORY
A documentary by HeldHostage Productions © 2019
VOICEOVER
Having reportedly been paid in advance for print and television exclusives, pending the forthcoming trial, Canning quickly became an Australian media favourite. Although she was unwilling to discuss her abduction directly while the case was sub judice, Canning was interviewed on numerous mainstream media outlets across Australia.
Some, like the new youth current affairs show Woke! took a serious approach, exploring some of the wider social implications of Canning’s ordeal.
[Cut to footage from Woke! interview]
INTERVIEWER
One of the things that people have been very disturbed by is the fact that an eighteen-year-old girl could disappear for almost a month without anyone reporting her missing. Does this shock you?
ELLIE
Well, I’m not shocked exactly. I mean, kids like me get used to being pretty much invisible. It does make me mad, though.
INTERVIEWER
And it’s a wake-up call, isn’t it, for the system?
ELLIE
Totally. There have to be better safeguards. There are so many vulnerable young people out there, who don’t have families to keep an eye on them.
It makes you wonder about the others, doesn’t it? The ones who have gone off the grid without anyone noticing. It’s a pretty scary thought.
***
VOICEOVER
Others, like Sarah Smiley on Good Morning Today!, were more interested in talking about Canning’s current activities.
[Cut to footage from Good Morning Today! interview]
ELLIE
Hi Sarah. Thanks so much for having me on the show. It’s very exciting.
SARAH SMILEY
Well, it’s exciting for us, too. Your story has certainly struck a chord around the country. You’ve become quite the phenomenon. I read that you’ve just been voted 2018’s Number One Girl in Top Girl magazine – beating off some very strong Hollywood competition, I might add, with thousands of Australian teenagers voting you the girl they’d most like to be. How does that feel?
ELLIE
Oh, it’s wild. My life feels totally crazy right now.
SARAH SMILEY
You’ve certainly come a long way.
ELLIE
I really have . . .
SARAH SMILEY
And we hear there’s a romance blossoming between you and that gorgeous Jamie Hemara.
ELLIE
Er – that’s gossip. We’re totally just friends.
SARAH SMILEY
Mm-hmm. Sure.
Anyway, we’re all dying to find out what you’re going to do next. We’ve heard you’ve had some very interesting offers. Not what you imagined, I suspect.
ELLIE
Yeah. There was a time when I basically didn’t know if I’d even have a future.
But now there’s so much happening. Some days it feels like I’ve woken up in some sort of a dream world. So many people want me. Honor – she’s my agent – she says she’s never seen anything like it.
SARAH SMILEY
And can you tell us about some of these offers? Are they all that different from your original plans?
ELLIE
Well, what I originally wanted to do was to go to university. Then, of course all this happened so I thought that was out. But I got a letter from the university just last week, saying that due to my, um, special circumstances, and after considering my school reports, they’ve decided to accept me anyway. And St Anne’s, the college, have offered me a residential scholarship. Although I’m not sure that I’ll even be going now – I’ve got so many exciting things going on. Heaps of opportunities. Maybe I’ll just take a gap year – or two.
SARAH SMILEY
And can you tell us a little about these exciting opportunities?
ELLIE
Oh, yes! I’ve actually been offered a job as spokesperson for ‘Girl Up’ which is a new organisation that’s devoted to helping empower young women who’ve been in traumatic situations, helping them to regain their confidence and find their voices again. They’ve got this kick-arse program to optimise all the bad things that have happened to them to build up resilience. Anyway, it’s a really amazing role, and it’s just so humbling to be given the opportunity to help others, after my own experience.
SARAH SMILEY
Wow. That sounds fantastic – so perfect for you!
And we’ve heard that there’s something else, something very special that you’re going to announce, exclusively, here on Good Morning Today!
ELLIE
It is pretty amazing. It looks like I’m going to be the face of a new line of L’Andon cosmetics in the new year.
SARAH SMILEY
So, a modelling contract?
ELLIE
Yes! It looks like it. Isn’t it mad?
SARAH SMILEY
Well, I don’t think, looking at you – and can we have a close-up of this beautiful face! I don’t think anyone would think that it’s really a mad idea. I think most of us will completely understand L’Andon’s decision – and we’ll be cheering for you all the way.
ELLIE
Oh, thank you. You’re so kind.
SARAH SMILEY
Can you tell our audience what this new line of cosmetics is going to be called, Ellie?
ELLIE
I actually think they could guess. It’s going to be called ‘Escape’.
HONOR: OCTOBER 2018
SINCE TAKING ON ELLIE, HONOR HAD DELIBERATELY KEPT HER trips to Enfield Wash to a minimum. Too many people – both known and unknown – were likely to approach her to try and find out what she knew about the case, or about Ellie’s current doings, or to tell her that they’d always had their suspicions about Suzannah. But this weekend, it had been unavoidable. The nursing home director had called her late last night to tell her that her father had had a minor heart attack, and that he had again been sent to hospital for observation. While his condition wasn’t critical, considering his state of health, anything could happen. He would probably require surgery – either in Newcastle or Sydney, depending on the availability of beds, surgeons, and all the rest. Honor should probably make the trip up immediately.
She had delayed seeing her father for as long as she could, had made an appointment to talk to the hospital’s resident geriatrician to discuss what needed to happen next, and to make any necessary arrangements before visiting. The doctor had, as it happened, recommended that nothing be done, that her father return to his room at The Franchise. Surgery might be advisable further down the track, but at this point his condition wasn’t in any way desperate.
‘It may be better just to leave it for now,’ she’d said. ‘He’s really not in any immediate danger. And in cases like his it’s often best to let sleeping dogs lie.’
They both knew what she really meant was that in cases like her father’s, where quality of life was already so reduced, being carried off quickly by a major heart attack probably wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
After the meeting, Honor postponed the visit further, ordered a cup of barely drinkable coffee and a stale muffin at the hospital kiosk, sat down with a magazine and did some quick calculations. It was nearly four o’clock now – if she managed to drag this out, official visiting hours would be almost over, and she wouldn’t have to hang around, even for appearance’s sake.
She’d chosen a table in the gloomy recesses of the kiosk, figuring that if she kept her head down and appeared to be immersed in her depressing food, her even more depressing reading material (a women’s magazine, with a small and blurry, but satisfying image of a Lululemon-clad Ellie ‘out and about in Paddington’
in its ‘Celebrity Snaps’ pages), she would be left alone. But she hadn’t figured the waitress into her plans.
The woman knew who Honor was immediately, and delivered her query with the coffee and cake.
‘So, how is she? The girl? How is she holding up?’
Honor’s first impulse was to tell the woman to fuck off, but she put her magazine down, smiled politely. The waitress was tiny, thin, bent, her features small and tight. She looked like she’d had a hard life, could be any age from thirty to sixty, but her hostility felt ancient. It wasn’t necessarily directed at her, though, so Honor kept her response friendly enough, if uninformative.
‘She’s okay. She has good days and bad days.’
The woman gave a stiff nod. Something about her looked familiar and Honor couldn’t resist the question, even though she knew that it would inevitably extend the conversation, ‘Do I know you?’
‘I was Cheryl Cruikshank. Howatt now. Not sure you’ll remember me. We were in the same year, but we weren’t exactly friends.’ The woman’s reflexively defensive attitude was familiar too.
‘Oh, yes, I do remember you.’ Cheryl had been a tough girl from a rough family. She’d been benign enough in primary school, but had developed into a fearsome and sometimes violent bully once hormones – and an understanding of her immutable position in the town’s social order – had kicked in. She’d never really bothered Honor, who’d ranked too low in the social hierarchy to be deserving of full-scale enmity, and who’d been a tough enough cookie herself, but as she said, they’d never been friends either.
‘So you married . . .’ She trawled through the possibilities, names she hadn’t thought of for years, ‘Jason Howatt?’
‘No. Jase never married. Too much time in prison. He hasn’t had a chance. I married Darren, his brother.’
Darren Howatt had been a figure of considerable infamy back in their youth. A good five years older than Honor, he’d worked in his father’s panel-beating shop, drove a souped-up panel van, and was always in trouble with the local cops for the usual small-time crimes: pub fights, drink driving, antisocial behaviour. Rumours of darker deeds swirled around him too: drug dealing, arson, sexual assault.