The Missing Pieces of Us

by Fleur McDonald

  Once he’d seen the photo, Billy would want her more than ever.

  The bell sounded. Skye quickly repacked her bag, took a paper towel from the dispenser and scrubbed at her lips before joining the throng heading for class.

  At lunchtime Skye was sitting in the quadrangle by herself, holding her phone, waiting for Billy to reply.

  When a group of older boys walked past her, their laughter made her look up in the hope that it was Billy. A couple of the boys glanced her way and winked at her.

  She turned away, wondering what their problem was.

  Then Holly was standing next to her. Skye could tell that she was trying to work out whether to sit down or not. Don’t! she screamed in her mind. Don’t sit down. She quickly scrambled to her feet to take the option away. ‘Hello, Miss.’

  ‘Hello, Skye, how are you?’ Holly asked.

  ‘Fine,’ Skye answered quickly, plastering a smile on her face. She noticed that the school psychologist had a strange look in her eyes. Skye’s stomach dropped—had Holly heard gossip about her relationship with Billy? She reached down to pick up her schoolbag and repack it, as if she had to go somewhere fast.

  ‘Coping okay with everything?’ asked Holly.

  ‘Yep. In fact, I’m just on my way to do a bit of study in the library. I’ve got a maths test this afternoon.’ Swinging her backpack up, Skye started to escape, but Holly kept up with her.

  ‘I just want you to know that I’m here if you ever want to have a chat. Completely off the record, as such. I won’t tell your mum what we talk about, but I thought you might need someone to speak to about everything that’s going on.’

  ‘Yeah, cheers for that,’ Skye said awkwardly.

  ‘No problems. I’ll catch you later.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Changing direction from the library to the school gate, Skye glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her. Holly had disappeared into the crowd of kids, and there didn’t seem to be any other teachers close by. Quickly, Skye walked out of the gate and down the street. She’d change out of her uniform in the mall toilets and damn well go and do what Adele had dared her to do, right now. That might put Adele in her place.

  Then Skye would find Billy after school.

  Chapter 17

  Tamara had come to work in a daze after Angela’s revelations. Well, maybe ‘daze’ wasn’t the right word—perhaps ‘stupor’ or ‘confusion’ was more appropriate. Oh, parts of what Angela had said made clear and total sense . . . but the fact that she’d actually let Tamara out on the streets and then watched her like some guardian angel? Well, Tamara just found that odd, even with the explanation Angela had given her.

  After Tamara had left Whitfield Street, she’d tried to remember if she’d ever sensed that Evan might actually hit her. She’d realised Angela had been right: the night he kicked her out he’d come very close. And now, thinking back, she would have bet next week’s pay that after she’d left the house, he’d hit Angela. Sadness swept over her.

  ‘Excuse me?’ A woman’s voice sounded at her shoulder, making Tamara jump. ‘Do you have this in a size 12?’

  Tamara took the white linen shirt and stared at it. For a second, she couldn’t remember what to do next. Then it clicked. ‘Ah, I’ll check out the back for you.’

  As she headed for the storeroom, she tried to shake the fog from her brain. Once inside, she let out her breath in a long whoosh and leaned her head against the wall. She wanted to splash cold water on her face, to shock the clouds of incomprehension away, but she couldn’t. It would ruin her makeup, and she didn’t have time to reapply it—she needed to serve her customer. Instead, she slapped her face a couple of times and did a few star jumps. Her sluggish blood started to flow, bringing more oxygen to her brain. Then she flicked through the racks holding the extra sizes and found an identical linen shirt in size 12.

  ‘Here you go,’ she said, bustling out into the store, a polite smile on her face. She held up the shirt for the customer to admire. ‘Would you like to try it on?’

  The lady nodded. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it? Crisp lines and classic.’

  Everything went well from there, and soon Tamara was going through the motions of ringing the purchase up on the till and talking to the woman about how hot the weather had been. As Tamara farewelled her happy customer, she walked her to the door. ‘Enjoy!’ she said with one last smile, then turned to go back inside, just as a loud alarm went off from the surf shop opposite Angelic Threads. A thrill ran through her. Shoplifting was a shop-owner’s worst nightmare. She glanced over and saw a young red-haired girl frozen just outside the shop. Fear was etched in her body—she looked as though she was about to run.

  Tamara could imagine all the questions running through the girl’s mind: What do I do? Should I go back? Am I about to be arrested?

  ‘Don’t!’ Tamara called out, involuntarily.

  The girl turned around, staring at Tamara through the throng of people who had stopped to see what the commotion was about. Tamara’s face dropped as she recognised the teenager—Adele’s friend, Skye.

  Tamara walked towards her, reaching her at the same time as the shop-owner. Usually, Tamara would have said a friendly hello to this woman, Sarah—they’d worked opposite each other for ten years—but now Sarah was totally focused on Skye.

  ‘What have you taken?’ she asked angrily, yelling over the alarm. ‘I get so sick of you teenagers doing this. Do you know I lose five per cent of my profit each year to you buggers?’

  Someone in Sarah’s shop switched off the alarm, making it a lot easier to hear. Sarah held out her hand to Skye. ‘Give it back to me. Now.’

  ‘I . . .’ Skye didn’t seem able to make her mouth work. She dropped her bag.

  Sarah bent to unzip it and pulled out a pair of shorts with pom-poms hanging from the hemline. ‘I’m calling security,’ she said.

  Skye looked at Tamara, her eyes wide. Trepidation mixed with distress. ‘No,’ she said, sounding panicked. ‘No! Please don’t. I’ll do anything . . .’

  Suddenly Tamara was remembering how it had felt to be caught with the brandy bottle. Something in Skye’s eyes, her voice, brought it all back so vividly that Tamara’s stomach clenched. She’d never intervened with a shoplifter before, but this time she had to take action. ‘Sarah,’ she said, ‘please wait a moment. I know this girl. She comes into my shop a lot and we’ve never had a problem.’ Tamara glanced at Skye, who looked ready to cry. ‘Just leave her with me and I’ll sort her out.’

  ‘God, Tam, you know how much shoplifters cost us! Let security make an example of her. At least she can spread the message to all of her friends.’

  Tamara put her hand on Sarah’s arm and spoke quietly. ‘Look, we both know there are other ways to get the message out.’ Over early morning coffees, she and Sarah had shared a story or two about their own wild teenage years. In fact, Sarah knew about how Tamara had come to work for Stella at Angelic Threads, and she’d said she thought it was a great idea to ‘keep those buggers off the streets’. Tamara dropped her voice even lower, so that Skye couldn’t hear. ‘The girl’s had a scare, Sarah. She’s a good kid. If she wasn’t, we both know calling security would make no difference whatsoever. Leave her with me, and I’ll take care of it.’

  Sarah seemed to waver, then she turned to Skye and shook her finger at her. ‘If I catch you in my shop again, I’ll call security whether you’ve taken something or not. You’re banned. Don’t ever come back in here again.’

  Skye nodded. ‘I promise,’ she answered quickly.

  ‘Go. Get out of my sight.’ Sarah pinned Tamara with a hard stare. ‘You make sure you fix this.’

  ‘You’ve got my word,’ Tamara said.

  Sarah, still holding the shorts, went back into her store, muttering.

  Tamara put her hand on Skye’s shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  Skye walked alongside her into Angelic Threads. Tamara shut the door and put her ‘Back in Five’ si
gn up, then led Skye into the storeroom. The girl sat on an office chair and stared at the floor, fiddling with the silver stud at the top of her ear. Tamara had once had a piercing like that.

  Again, she remembered being caught in the bottle shop. It was as if she was standing above herself, watching it happen in slow motion. She remembered the suffocating feelings of terror and shame. The threat of the juvie centre.

  Being taken in by Stella had been the turning point in her life. Now she could help this girl in the same way Stella had helped her: give Skye a chance. If she wanted it.

  ‘My name’s Tamara Thompson, but you can call me “Tam”,’ she said, sitting opposite the girl. ‘I’ve always liked chatting with you and Adele and your friends, and I know you’re a good kid. So, do you want to tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘Not really.’ Skye folded her arms, frowning. She’d recovered her attitude.

  ‘Hey, Skye? I don’t have to help here,’ Tamara shot back. ‘And I won’t if you don’t help me. I can’t do anything unless you talk.’

  Silence filled the room. Tamara watched as Skye weighed her options. Her attitude—defiant, but frightened—reminded Tamara of how her younger self had behaved. It wasn’t an attitude she was proud of. But if she could say something to her fourteen-year-old self, what would it be? She’d seen letters in a magazine from famous people to their younger selves, giving them advice that they wished they’d had back then.

  Skye got up and walked over to the wall, pressing her hands against it and bowing her head. ‘Mum had an operation today,’ she said finally. ‘She’s got a melanoma that they’re cutting out. Dad’s with her. It’s not a big operation, but . . . I’m scared. Melanoma is really serious. She has to have tests to see if it’s spread.’ Skye sniffled. ‘But Mum’s in denial. They all are. And they don’t care about what I think, anyway. They don’t need me. Mum’s never there for me.’

  Tamara nodded. ‘I see. That’s a lot of baggage for you to be carrying around.’

  Skye shrugged. ‘Story of my life.’

  Sympathy surged through Tamara. ‘Look, love, I don’t know what’s going on in your life, but it sounds pretty stuffed up at the moment.’ She paused, trying to gauge Skye’s reaction. She took a chance. ‘Mine was more than pretty stuffed up at your age, which is why I used to shoplift too.’

  Skye didn’t move, her hands still pressed hard against the wall. Her fingernails had gone white.

  Tamara kept talking, soft and calm. ‘I started shoplifting because I wanted someone to notice me. Get some boy’s attention or look cool to my friends—you know, that sort of shit.’ She didn’t mention that later she’d done it to survive. Skye needed a story she could relate to. ‘Were you doing that?’ Tamara asked. ‘Trying to get your mum’s attention?’ She sat back and waited, hoping like hell she was right.

  Skye pushed off the wall and turned around, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

  Tamara went over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. ‘Want one?’ she offered, just as Skye’s stomach let out a loud rumble. Her hands flew down to cover it, while her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment.

  ‘You haven’t eaten? It’s nearly 3 pm.’ Tamara glanced at her watch, then picked up the phone and dialled. Skye raised her head and looked at her, alarmed.

  ‘Hi Paul, it’s Tam at Angelic Threads. I’d like one large pizza with the lot.’ She put her hand over the receiver and looked at Skye. ‘Do you want olives and anchovies?’

  Skye smiled weakly and shook her head.

  ‘No thanks, Paul, just the basics.’ She listened. ‘Sure. I’ll unlock the door, if you can just bring it in, yeah? Great, thanks. See you soon.’ She banged the phone down and grinned. ‘Pizza with the lot, on its way. When did you eat last?’

  Skye shrugged. ‘Last night.’

  ‘Well, then it will taste even better.’

  ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ Skye asked suspiciously.

  ‘Like I said before, I was you, once,’ Tamara answered simply, ‘and someone gave me a chance. So, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to write a letter of apology to Sarah, the owner of the surf shop, which I’ll deliver since she won’t let you in there. Then I want you to come and work for me on a trial basis for three months, twice a week. Outside school hours, of course, and you’ll be paid a fair wage. You owe me, Skye, and I think you’ll like working here. But we’ll need your parents’ permission.’

  Skye nodded without hesitation, her smile wide.

  ‘I also expect you to go home and talk to your parents about what happened today. Tell them everything.’ Tamara paused. ‘But if you’re going to work here, you’ll need some decent clothes—I’ll give you a couple of shirts. And that earring will have to go.’

  Skye looked anxious. ‘I only just had it done. The woman who did it said it could get infected—’

  ‘Oh,’ said Tamara with a laugh, ‘don’t worry, I know the drill. We’ll just cover it with a bandaid. Easy. Well, I’d better close the shop a bit early today.’

  ‘My best friend dared me to shoplift,’ Skye confessed as she took a bite of the steaming pizza. ‘She said it would help take my mind off what was going on with Mum. That was a pretty stupid idea, wasn’t it?’

  Tamara chuckled. ‘You can say that again.’

  They were silent as they ate. Then Skye’s mobile rang. Tamara watched as she froze, then dug it out of her pocket and checked the screen. ‘My brother,’ she said. ‘Hello?’

  Tamara heard an agitated voice radiating out from the phone. ‘Where are you? You were supposed to be home by now. Are you really so selfish on the day Mum has her tests that you nick off and don’t do what you’re supposed to?’

  ‘I . . .’

  ‘Where the hell are you? Either get home now or I’ll come and get you.’

  When Skye bristled and opened her mouth, Tamara knew what was coming next. ‘Get fucked, Stu. I don’t have to tell you where I am. It’s not like any of you care.’ She took the phone away from her ear and went to hang up.

  ‘Wait a sec,’ Tamara said, ‘let me talk to him.’

  Stu was still talking, ‘Don’t you dare hang up on me, you selfish little bitch!’

  Tam took the phone. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Golden Boy.’

  Tam gave her a ‘come on’ look.

  ‘Stu.’

  ‘Hello Stu? My name’s Tamara. I’m the manager at Angelic Threads, a clothes store in the shopping centre. Skye’s with me and I can drive her home soon if you’d like. Are your parents home yet?’

  ‘Um, sorry, who are you?’

  ‘A friend of Skye’s. Look, get a pen and paper. I’ll give you my details so you can look me up online.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, sounding confused.

  After Tamara heard the rustle of paper, she recited everything he might need to know. ‘And are your parents home?’ she repeated.

  ‘Not yet. They’re due after five, depending on how everything went today.’

  ‘If you’re comfortable with me driving Skye home, I’ll make sure she’s back before they get there.’

  A silence. Then he said, ‘Okay, sounds good. I can’t stop you, anyway.’

  Tamara handed the phone to Skye, who stabbed at the screen to end the call.

  ‘Well, we’d better get going,’ Tamara said, straightening up. ‘I am going to speak with your parents, but today isn’t the day. I’ll call them late tomorrow morning—so you’d better have a word before then!’

  Tamara walked into her local pub and headed to the bar. God, she needed a drink. She ordered a Carlton Dry, then sat at a table in the darkest, quietest corner of the room. After taking a sip, she closed her eyes as the icy cold liquid slid down her throat, then she rested the cool glass against her forehead. What a freaking twenty-four hours.

  She got out her phone and scrolled through Facebook, stopping to read a public post by Craig. A quote, printed on what looked like a very crinkled piece of paper, said: �
��Please tell me I’m not as forgettable as your silence is making me feel.’

  Something caught in her throat, and she couldn’t take her eyes away from the screen. Her silence was making him feel forgotten. Her behaviour towards her mum, who wasn’t her mum at all, was probably making her feel forgotten as well. Two forgotten people who could be made happy by a single text or phone call.

  Craig was the easier to deal with, so Tamara tapped out a quick message to him. ‘Hi, sorry I haven’t been in contact today. Crazy, weird things have happened. Just trying to find my feet.’ She hesitated before adding ‘xx’.

  Straight away, Craig texted back: ‘Like what? Want 2 talk?’

  Did she? She wasn’t sure. It was all so jumbled in her head, she didn’t know if she could get it out so that it made sense.

  ‘Maybe soon,’ she finally typed. ‘I’ve just found out I was adopted.’

  The phone remained silent, and she guessed he was taking in the news as much as she was.

  She took another mouthful of beer and opened the browser on her phone. After a deep breath, she typed: ‘how to find your birth mother in Australia’.

  A long list of results came up. She scrolled through them, trying to work out what information was relevant. How could she search if she had nothing to go on?

  The night before, she hadn’t told Angela she would return, but she hadn’t said she wouldn’t either. She’d left in the haze of fog that seemed to follow her wherever she went at the moment. Except for when she’d made the decision to help Skye—that had been in a moment of total clarity.

  Now she had another eureka moment: she needed to start her search with Angela.

  Draining the rest of her beer, Tamara left the glass on the table.

  In the car, she wondered how Skye was getting on at home. The poor thing—she obviously wasn’t feeling wanted or needed in her own home. Once again, Tamara was struck by the similarities between the two of them.