Six Minutes

by Petronella McGovern

  – Bloody hell, too close to home!

  – Which school is she at?

  She’s not at school yet. She’s at playgroup still.

  – I’m not letting my toddlers outside.

  – I’m trying to get our Missing Persons register and awareness improved. If you can help, please PM me.

  – Is she autistic? Is that why she ran away?

  My autistic son is always running away. We’ve had to put in extra locks, fences and gates. I need eyes in the back of my head!

  – Imogen Lawrence, is this your playgroup?

  – I used to live in Merrigang—it’s a great community—please help find her.

  – Bob, is that your street? Did you see anything?

  I was home but no, didn’t see or hear anything. The police asked for my security camera at the front door. Very distressing.

  – Kudos to the coppers. Good luck, guys!

  – I went to that playgroup when I was little. I can’t believe it’s still there! Praying for Bella to be found xxx

  – Do they reckon she’s been taken?

  – Should we come down and help look?

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  8

  LEXIE

  MARTY INSISTED THAT WE GO BACK TO PLAYGROUP AND CHECK IN WITH the police. As we came down Acacia Drive, scanning for a pink coat, two police officers were knocking on someone’s front door. Further down, another set. The sight of them in their blue-and-white uniforms made me gag again—but they also filled me with hope.

  In the laneway near playgroup, Marty had to manoeuvre the Audi into a spot next to the police cars. Hauling myself out of the seat, I clung to the doorhandle. My legs were wobbling like jelly. Marty came around the car and took my arm. I shrugged him off. I needed to be strong to find my daughter. He held open the gate to the playgroup and I stared at the pull-up lock. Less than three hours ago, Bella and I had walked in here with our Florentines and our smiles. Surely she must be inside now, waving her wand and making magic.

  But inside the playgroup were only mothers and police, Daisy in the pram. No other children. No Bella. Never once had she wandered off before. Even at home, I always knew where she was. What if she’s alone in the bush? Spiders, bees, feral cats, sticks, stones, ditches, broken glass, discarded syringes … What if she has fallen into a dam? What if she is being mauled by an animal? What if? What if? What if?

  The playgroup mums clustered in the kitchenette, cups of tea in their hands. Mel wasn’t here—was she the only one still out searching? Blood rushed to my head. How dare they stand here and drink tea, these women who had lost my child! They should be out combing the streets.

  Imogen rushed towards me, her cheeks blotchy, eyes wet. She threw her arms around me.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Lexie.’

  My whole body froze. Had something happened? Forcing myself to turn my head, I looked around the room, heard a buzz of police conversations.

  As I stayed silent, Imogen pulled me tighter and kept talking.

  ‘I don’t know how she disappeared, Lexie. I don’t understand. She was right here. It’s all our fault.’

  I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath. It all came now, in one long moan. There was no news. Nothing had changed.

  ‘I’m sure the police will find her soon,’ Julia said softly. ‘Any moment now.’

  A second ago, I’d wanted to blame them—Imogen, Mel, Tara and Julia. But no, it was my fault. I should have been watching Bella. If I’d been here, this wouldn’t have happened.

  I’d never left Bella before. Never.

  No, I reminded myself, that wasn’t quite true. I’d set myself the test to walk to the shops from playgroup. And a few weeks ago—the playgroup dinner: I’d left her then. Marty had kept his promise and for once he’d come home from the hospital in time to put Bella in the bath. Her giggles had become louder and louder as he poured almost the whole bottle into the bath, then stirred up the water to create huge bubbles. Later, when Bella was tucked up in bed, I kissed her goodnight, holding her little body against mine. Should I stay home with her? But I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and forced myself to walk out of her room. She’ll be fine, she’ll be fine, she’ll be fine—I had repeated the words in time with each step down the staircase. I’m getting better, I’m getting better, I’m getting better.

  The old tube of mascara was gloopy and smudged against my eyelid. Damn. Wiping it off, I tried again. It had been so long since I’d worn make-up. I had to hurry up though, as Tara would be arriving any minute.

  ‘Do I look all right?’ I’d asked Marty, worried that my dark green tunic was too dressy for a suburban Thai restaurant.

  ‘Sweetheart, you look lovely.’ He blew me a kiss from the couch, where he was watching the news.

  When we first started dating, he’d been the one taking me out, surprising me with a new restaurant or a harbour cruise or theatre tickets. From the night we’d met at the museum charity ball, we spent as much time together as we could. Ever the gentleman, he’d collect me from my apartment in Bondi Junction, even though it was on the other side of the city from his place. I’d be dressed and waiting, butterflies tingling in my tummy. Later, we stayed awake talking until the early hours of the morning, sharing our stories and our secrets. I hid love notes under his pillow, in the fridge and rolled up in his coffee cup. Back then, we told each other everything.

  The doorbell rang.

  ‘Please check on her every hour,’ I reminded Marty. ‘And don’t go into the spare room downstairs, my stuff is all over the place.’

  ‘Don’t worry about a thing.’

  When I opened the front door, I saw that Tara was wearing jeans.

  ‘You’re dressed up,’ she said.

  Tara tried to take a step inside but I hustled her out.

  ‘Let’s go. Bella is asleep and I don’t want her to wake.’

  She peered over my shoulder, no doubt trying to catch a glimpse of my ‘hottie hubby’.

  ‘Nice house, Lexie. We should have morning tea here one day.’

  I’d been trying to decide whether to have everyone over to our house for Bella’s birthday party rather than just take a cake into playgroup. Tara had been angling for an invitation. Apparently, she’d been to the open house when our place was for sale and she knew exactly how much we’d paid for it. Pulling the door shut behind me I wondered about Tara’s house. The others had been to her place many times, but so far I hadn’t been included. Tara implied money was tight but it sounded like they had all the mod cons and they’d just bought a new TV. None of that material stuff matters; it’s our hearts that matter, I wanted to say to her, but we weren’t quite at that point. Despite seeing her every week, I knew little of Tara’s life outside the kids. I could repeat the details of the girls’ births, Daisy’s sleep issues, Zoe’s constant tonsillitis, and the fact that her mother-in-law was always dropping in unexpectedly (‘I think she’s checking up on my housework and parenting skills’). But I didn’t know where Tara grew up or exactly what Josh did for a job.

  Unlike me, Tara had no issue leaving her kids with other people. Even the baby. As soon as Daisy was fed and settled at playgroup, Tara would disappear to the shops.

  I picked up Dora from the lounge chair and held her against my body. The doll was almost the same height as Bella. But it was my little Tinker Bell I needed. Bella’s head against my collarbone, the faint smell of shampoo in her hair, her arms wrapped around my waist, her soft breath on my neck.

  Collapsing into the lounge chair, I kept hold of the doll. Tara rushed over from the kitchenette and perched on the edge of the kids’ table in front of me.

  ‘This is fucking terrible,’ she said, leaning forward and patting my knee. ‘Where can she be? I’ve posted a message on Facebook. Everyone’s sharing it.’

  Near the door into the playgroup, Marty was talking to a man in a suit, not a uniform.

  ‘Someone must have seen her,’ Tara kept on. ‘She can’t have gone too f
ar, can she?’

  Go away, Tara, stop speaking. Find my child.

  Right at my eye level were Tara’s breasts. She had wet patches around the nipples.

  ‘You need to feed Daisy,’ I blurted out.

  ‘Oh shit, I do too.’ Tara flapped her green shirt, as though trying to dry it out. ‘Not a good look, hey?’

  Watching Tara unhook her bra and cradle Daisy to her breast, the tears slid down my cheeks. I had no memory of breastfeeding Bella. There were photos of her on my chest but I couldn’t recall the feeling of her warm body against mine, the insistent tug of her suckling. So much was a blank.

  Detective Sergeant Gabe Caruso, the man in the suit, ushered Marty and me away from the mothers to an empty spot near the dressing-up box. Resisting the urge to stomp the fairy wings into the carpet, I clutched at his large hands.

  ‘Please find my daughter.’

  ‘We’re doing our very best, Mrs Parker.’ A strong, gravelly voice. A face lined with experience. ‘Our officers are out there doorknocking and checking the streets. In the meantime, the SES are mobilising their volunteers. They’ll be here in the next hour to assist with the search if we need them.’

  The detective was around Marty’s age but he seemed more solid, more substantial. A professional who would deliver our child back to us.

  ‘Where are they looking?’ Marty asked.

  ‘They’re doing a systematic doorknock, street by street, and they will—’

  ‘Lexie and I have already checked most of the streets nearby,’ Marty interrupted. ‘I can mark them on the map for you.’

  ‘Thanks but that’s okay.’ Sergeant Caruso tapped his radio. ‘They’ll take a systematic approach and talk to every house.’

  ‘NO!’ I shouted. ‘We’ve been down those streets. Please don’t waste time.’

  ‘I understand, Mrs Parker. But our officers are trained.’

  The burst of anger evaporated and the tears came again.

  ‘Bella will be so scared. She’s always with me.’

  But I had left her. And now she was gone.

  Marty and I stayed by the dressing-up box as Sergeant Caruso made calls and spoke to a female detective. Yes, he’d find Bella for us. He would. What had Julia said? Any moment now.

  After a few minutes he returned to where we stood.

  ‘We need to check your home,’ Caruso told Marty.

  ‘We were just there,’ Marty explained. ‘She hasn’t found her way home.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, but we need to follow our procedures and do a police check. In fact, it would be best to have someone at the house, in case Bella turns up there.’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I need to be out there searching.’

  Waiting in our empty house while the minutes ticked away—I couldn’t do it.

  ‘Can we get someone to stay there for us, Lexie?’ Marty asked me.

  Our list of friends and acquaintances in this town was small. Everyone I relied on was here in this room, apart from Mel. Earlier, the first policeman, the young one in the uniform, had asked: ‘Could a family member have come by to collect Bella and surprise her? A friend? A relative? Your husband?’

  ‘NO, NO, NO!’ I’d yelled at him. I’d wanted him to stop talking so I could get outside and search. ‘We have no family in Canberra. And my husband is at work. He’s always at work.’

  ‘I’ll ring Mel,’ I said. ‘Maybe she can meet the police at the house and stay there for a few hours.’

  ‘Good.’ Caruso nodded. ‘Also, the dog team will be here shortly. They’ll need a piece of clothing with Bella’s scent on it.’

  Caruso walked away to make more calls and I went back to the lounge chair. I held up Dora and stared into her wide eyes. Dora, where could Bella be? Please help the police find her. You’re so good at finding things with your map and your backpack.

  I was asking a doll to find my daughter.

  Marty walked me to my car, still parked where I’d left it this morning, to find something of Bella’s for the sniffer dogs. Folded on the back seat was a jumper from the day before. Pink and purple stripes—a present from Phoebe last Christmas. I need to ring Phoebe and tell her what’s going on. No, by the time it was morning in London and Phoebe was awake, Bella would be back with us safe and sound. And there was no point in worrying Dad; he’d just become even more agitated and confused. The sniffer dogs will find her.

  ‘I want to go and look for her on the ridge,’ Marty said as we stood by the car. ‘Will you come?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t just sit around doing nothing.’

  I opened the passenger door, then stopped, eyes fixed on the footpath where Imogen had found the sparkly wizard hat.

  ‘No.’ I backed away from the car. ‘I have to stay here.’

  As I walked up the short path to the playgroup, the noise of children chanting in the school playground drifted through the air.

  Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn around.

  Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch the ground.

  Had Bella wandered across the oval and into the school playground to find out what school was like? It was a small school but there were so many places to hide. Backstage in the hall. Underneath a shelf in the library. Behind equipment in the sports shed. Inside the bathrooms. What if she was locked in a cubicle? My breath was coming faster and faster. When I was working at the museum, a child lost on a school excursion had hidden in a toilet cubicle for three hours. Crouched on the seat so no-one saw his dangling feet. Too terrified to answer the strangers calling his name. Three people had checked that set of toilets and not one of us had noticed him. Finally, a security guard had peered over the top of the partition. The boy wouldn’t move or speak until his distraught teacher arrived. The museum’s head of school programs had written a new protocol the next day and personally delivered it to every member of staff.

  ‘Mrs Parker?’

  Sergeant Caruso stood at the playgroup gate. My eyes flickered from his face to the school. Could I run over there? Would he follow me?

  He held out his hand, waiting.

  Looking down, I saw I was holding Bella’s jumper. The item of clothing for the dogs to find her scent.

  ‘Oh, here.’ I thrust it towards him. ‘What if she’s hiding in the school somewhere?’

  ‘Two officers have been inside. They’ve done a walk through and spoken to the principal. Everyone is keeping an eye out for Bella.’

  ‘But what if—’

  ‘Mrs Parker, who was outside when you came back from the shop?’

  I stared at the detective, took in his crisp blue shirt under the suit jacket, the olive skin, the slightly crooked nose, dark close-cropped hair. I focused on him because the question terrified me.

  ‘Um … some … some of the children were outside. They ran to me when they saw the Dora doll. It must have been … um …’

  How could I have forgotten? It was only three hours ago. Bella needs me to remember. I couldn’t dredge up an image in my head. It had been wiped clear by what came afterwards. I pressed my fingers against my temples. Think, think. What happened when you opened the gate?

  ‘The twins, they must have been outside. They’re always outside. Maybe Imogen? Oh God, I can’t remember.’

  Thoughts swirled around in my head but I couldn’t pin down any pictures of the sandpit and the cubbyhouse.

  Then the detective leant in closer and asked another question: ‘Can you tell me why Bella has a cast on her arm and how you got that cut on your face?’

  Watching over Bella. Always watching. Like a guardian angel.

  Such an adorable child. So well behaved most of the time.

  But she has started testing the boundaries.

  Only in small ways. Nothing serious. Normal for that age.

  Ready to sprout wings and fly.

  Something to be aware of, that’s all.

  To watch how she pushes.

  To watch how her parents react.

  9

  MARTY

>   MARTY JOGGED ALONG THE WIDE DIRT PATH SKIRTING THE RIDGE, yelling Bella’s name into the wind. He was surprised that Lexie hadn’t come with him—after all their searching together on the streets, he’d thought she’d want to keep moving, just like him.

  An older couple and their three fluffy poodles were walking towards him. They veered to the left, giving a wide berth to the crazy man running in work clothes.

  ‘Please,’ Marty called to them. ‘I’ve lost my daughter. She’s only three years old.’

  Their expressions changed, mouths open, eyes wide.

  ‘Up here?’ the woman asked, gesturing at the scrubby bushland that rolled up and over the ridge, then down again to fenced farms on the other side. Farms with large dams. She couldn’t get all the way over, not in a few hours. It’s too rugged. Some patches of land were open and easy to search but others were dotted with boulders, ditches and bushes. Thousands of places a scared little girl could hide. Why weren’t the SES people up here right now?

  ‘No, she went missing down near the shops,’ Marty explained. ‘But we come walking up here. It’s one of her favourite places.’

  ‘We’ll look for her on our way home,’ the old man said, rubbing his beard. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Bella. And if you see other people, please ask them to keep an eye out as well.’

  Their concern re-energised Marty, and he sprinted along the path to the base of the hill. Would she try to come up here? Only four weeks ago, Bella had stood on the top of this hill, her arms spread wide, yelling out to the world: ‘I’m the King of the Cars-dul.’ At that moment, his biggest fear had been her speech.

  Climbing up the rocky trail, Marty slipped and banged his hip against a fallen log. His black shoes—the ones he wore to work most days—had no tread on the smooth rocks. Flinging his jacket onto a boulder, Marty kept going, sure that he would spot Bella’s pink coat at any moment. Small trees grew densely along the sides of the track. Branches snagged at his shirt as he charged past.

  ‘BELLA!’ he called as he ran.