‘You can sit down,’ Sarah said.
The woman took the baby out and spread the halter on the floor, laying the sleeping baby on it. ‘When she’s asleep, she can sleep anywhere. Love the baby halter. Fell off the back of a truck, hey.’
‘What’s your name?’ Sarah frowned but ignored the woman’s comments about the stolen halter now on her floor.
‘Oh sure, sure. I’m Dawn, Dawn Angus. This is my baby Alberta. Stupid name, I know. Was his fucking idea. Fancy name. He said it’d give her a better start in life. I wanted to call her Stacey. I call her Bert, to stick it to him. Because fuck, he gives her a stupid bloody name and pisses off — won’t give me no money, says it’s not his baby, not his responsibility.’
‘Is she his baby?’
‘Bloody oath. He couldn’t get enough of me.’
‘Why does he think it’s not his baby?’
‘Says I was doing it with other blokes.’
‘But you’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you had a paternity test?’
‘A what?’
‘A test to see who the father is?’
‘What kind of test would that be?’
It took over half an hour for Sarah to work through the issues with Dawn and to start the process for a court order for the father to pay maintenance. Too long on a free-for-all night, with a waiting room full of other people. To the question of whether the father of the baby was abusive, Dawn didn’t reply. When Sarah asked the second time, Dawn said, ‘I come here for the child support. That’s all.’
‘Okay, but if he’s hurting you it’s wrong and you should go to the police.’
‘Just the child support,’ Dawn repeated. Sarah acquiesced and didn’t pursue the issue.
After Dawn, there was a guy with a dangerous driving charge — drag racing. Followed by an eviction. Two shoplifters. One had stolen a battery-operated dildo from a Sexyland store, and Sarah managed not to burst out laughing. Another driving charge. Followed by Tanu and his ongoing dispute with a neighbour.
It was only at the end of the night, on her way home, that she had a chance to think about Mandy’s phone call, and about Jo.
‘She’s run off.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘She might need a little break.’
‘I’m worried.’
‘I’ll drop in tomorrow. We can talk about it.’
Sarah parked the car on the other side of Hyde Street and crossed Francis Street. The lights took so long to change, she considered running across. But she didn’t. The trucks, some of them three containers long, sped past. If she slipped or fell, always a possibility, she didn’t think they’d be inclined to stop for a fat jaywalking pedestrian.
Finally the lights turned green and Sarah crossed the road. Once at Mandy’s gate, she hesitated. She was spending too much time on this case — if she put her actual hours down on the weekly timesheet, her manager, Eric, would demand an explanation. But she hadn’t been putting down her actual hours; after all, some of it was in her own time, and she was sick of the way Eric wanted them to calculate every hour of their day as if they were some corporate law firm dealing with multimillion-dollar contracts.
Sarah rang the doorbell, and immediately Mandy opened the door. Her eyes were red, and it was obvious she’d been crying; she led Sarah through to the kitchen. There were dirty plates on the sink. On the table, the newspaper was still in its sealed roll. There was a basket of dirty laundry near the back door. ‘Sorry about the mess. I can’t seem to do anything this morning. I don’t…’
‘It’s okay,’ Sarah said. ‘You’re worried.’
Sarah suggested tea and Mandy made it.
‘Let’s go outside,’ Mandy said once the tea was made. ‘Since Jo left I can’t stand being in the house.’
The morning clouds had cleared and it was a sunny afternoon. Next door, Mandy’s neighbour mowed the lawn and the whiff of cut grass floated over the fence. In the distance, there was the non-stop drone of traffic.
‘Two days ago I came home from work and thought she wasn’t here,’ Mandy told Sarah. ‘I could tell straightaway the house was empty. I looked out the back window and she was sitting under the gum tree — so still. I went out there and asked her if she was okay. “I locked myself out,” is all she said. “You went out?” I said. I was surprised. But she didn’t answer, and wouldn’t tell me where she’d been. She walked past me and went to her room. She hadn’t been out since the accident — as far as I know.’
‘But you have no idea where she might have gone or why?’
‘No. That night we had dinner. Or I had dinner — I called her, but she didn’t come out of her room until later. I’d finished eating. I’d put her dinner away. She ate it cold. I tried a couple of times to have a conversation, but she didn’t respond. Yesterday, when I came home from work, she was gone. She left a note, saying she’s sorry and that she had to go. Telling me not to stress, she’ll be back. That she’ll let me know where she is in a few days.’ Mandy passed the note to Sarah and watched her read it. ‘That’s it. I tried to ring her, but there was no answer. Later, I found her phone on her bed.’
‘What did she take?’
‘Not much. Some clothes. A small backpack, I think.’
‘So long as she obeys the bail conditions, it’ll be fine. She shouldn’t leave the state, and she’ll need to let the police know she’s moved and her new address. And because she’s moved out of here, she’ll have to report to the police station once a week. Let’s wait a couple of days and see if she contacts you. If she doesn’t, we will have to tell the police.’
Mandy nodded. ‘I’m so worried.’
‘I know. If you hear from her, let me know. Get a number from her so I can talk to her.’
‘Her grandmother is in a panic. She thinks I should go looking for her.’
‘Where would you start looking?’
‘I don’t know. In the past whenever she’s run off, it’s been to Ashleigh’s.’
‘Let’s wait a couple of days. Time away might even help. I hope she finds somewhere to go that’ll give her a break. You know, in ancient Israel, they used to have several small cities outside the main city — they called them cities of refuge, and they sent people like Jo there.’
‘People like Jo — what does that mean?’
‘Sorry, I mean people who’d accidentally killed or injured someone. It was partly for their protection.’
‘Do you think Jo needs protection?’
Sarah thought about Ashleigh’s father at the window the day she dropped off the clothes. She thought about Ashleigh’s mother at Mandy’s doorstep. ‘No, I don’t think she needs protection, but getting away from Yarraville, for a while, might be good for her.’
‘It’s my fault she left. I can’t seem to… I feel like I fell out of love with Jo the night of the accident. I loved her more than I’ve ever loved anyone, more than I loved my mother, but it’s a memory, it’s gone, that obsessive, pure love, and I can’t seem to get it back. I don’t know how to love her anymore.’ Mandy was sobbing. ‘Jo knows. She looks at me, and she can see, she knows. That’s not supposed to happen.’
It seemed to Sarah that Mandy was stuck, like a rabbit in the hunter’s spotlight. She was stuck on her front doorstep on the night of the accident, overwhelmed with shame and anger that would not shift.
‘I’m sure you love Jo. You’re angry, you’re grieving, all those feelings are getting in the way,’ Sarah said. But in truth, she had puzzled over a parent’s ability to give unconditional love — especially when in the case of some of her clients, the child was cruel, ruthless, vicious.