Sticks and Stones (7 page)

‘She's good. Too scared to speak to you though.'

‘Why?' asked Maddie, stunned.

‘Because she thinks you'll blame her for everything. Listen, Mum?'

Maddie was still trying to make sense of his earlier statement. ‘Yes? What?'

‘I think he's changed.' Sam spoke slowly, giving each word extra gravitas. ‘He's different.'

Maddie stared at the wall, where the lengthening shadows were washing the cream a cloudy grey. She swallowed, and tried to find some words.

‘Mum? Did you hear me? I'm not just saying that, you know. I was watching him all day and . . . well, he's
different
.'

‘In what way?'

‘Um, I don't know. It's hard to explain. Calmer, I suppose. Nicer.'

‘Oh. That's good.'

‘Yeah. Same as last night. Like I would've thought he'd be going on about what a cow you were. No offence. But he's hardly mentioned you. And when Ashley started bitching about not getting cable, he actually stood up for you!'

‘Really? What did he say?'

‘Whatever, I can't remember. But . . . well, you see what I mean? And he's so happy to see us! He keeps looking at us all the time like he can't believe we're really here.'

Maddie flinched as guilt lanced through the bubble of hope that had been building within. She tried to think of a reply to this, but there simply wasn't one.

‘So you don't need to worry, Mum.'

‘Okay,' Maddie nodded. ‘Okay. And you'll still be back in a day or so?'

‘Well, maybe a little after. Coz we're gonna go visit Gran and all that lot. You don't mind?'

‘What? No. Of course not.'

‘And I'll ring you again tomorrow. Same time, same place!'

‘Okay.'

The phone went dead against her ear, with a hollow flatness that spoke of absence much clearer than mere silence. Maddie listened intently for a moment, and then put it slowly down by the keyboard.
He's changed, Mum. Different.
She stared at the computer screen and then suddenly reached down and logged out. Her inbox disappeared immediately, to be replaced by a set of three icons, each with one of their names. Maddie double-clicked on Ashley's and then tapped her fingers thoughtfully as a password box formed. A year ago this would not have been here or, even if it had, Maddie would have known the answer.

She tried variations of Ashley's name, past and present, and addresses and friends. She stared at the wall again for a while and then her eyes widened and she reached forward to spell out
Jake.
Feeling almost relieved when that didn't work either. After a few more tries, Maddie got up and walked down to her daughter's room for inspiration. Tigger watched her beadily as she flicked through the bookcase and opened a few drawers, but there was only the usual paraphernalia of an almost-teen. On the wall were two posters of the
Twilight
cast. Maddie gazed at them for a moment and then hurried back to the computer.

Edward
. No.
Bella.
No.
Jacob.
Bullseye. She grinned as Ashley's inbox swam onto the screen with a neat array of folders on the side. Maddie glanced quickly down the list until she came to one titled simply ‘D'. She selected it and immediately the screen filled with a neat list of emails, each sent from JH. Jake Hampton. Maddie took a deep, bottom of the lungs breath and clicked on the first one.

Jake confirmed you as a friend on Facebook.

Hello there Ashley, and thanks so much for offering to be my friend. I need all the friends I can get because I'm having a competition with my nephew Sam (that's his picture over at the side) about who can get the most friends by Christmas! But I'm also really pleased about you being my friend because I have a daughter who is exactly your age and who I haven't seen for a really long time. Her name is Courtney. So it's nice to imagine that nowadays she might sound just like you!

Cheers, Jake

To view Jake's profile or write on his wall, follow this link:

http://www.facebook.com/n/?profile.php&id=235643112G753c8912b

Thanks,

The Facebook Team

Maddie stared at the message, feeling a surge of anger that she fought to control. She herself had helped Ashley choose the photo that adorned her Facebook page: a crowded one of her and some friends about to leave for a fancy-dress party. Clowns and heavily made-up fairies and one vampire with tomato sauce smeared across both cheeks. There had been no clue there, none at all. But she knew enough about Facebook to realise this email meant that Ashley had actually searched for her father, then reached out to add him as a friend. Putting them all at risk. She clicked on the next message.

Hey again Ashley. Yes, I miss my daughter a lot. It's especially hard on her birthday, knowing that another whole year has gone past. Very hard. Apart from anything else, I've now got all these presents piled up waiting for her! Glad to hear you got picked for the tennis team at school, have you been playing tennis long? And how funny that you have a brother called Sam, same as my nephew. Do you have any other brothers and sisters?

Cheers, Jake

Her anger faded as quickly as it had risen, replaced by dull, shadowy sadness that all this gone on without her knowledge. That Ashley had even felt the need to connect with her father, despite the risks, no doubt believing that the situation was under perfect control and that she could maintain her anonymity. Not realising that she never had a chance. She scrolled through about ten messages, all very much the same. A casual, light chattiness, with just a dash of mawkish stoicism, artfully folded around a couple of little hooks. Each one drawing Ashley in closer, so the tone of the emails became ever friendlier, and more knowledgeable. At around the three week mark, they stopped being Facebook messages and became straight emails to each other that Ashley had saved in the same folder. Shortly afterwards, Jake had struck.

Hi there. I've been reading and reading your last email and I'm going to say something I probably shouldn't. Because maybe it'll affect our friendship and I'd hate that. But I can't
not
say it either. It'd eat me up inside. You see, I always thought that even though it's been six years since I last saw Courtney, I'd still have a sort of connection with her. Because we were so close. And I feel like I've got that connection with you. There's
something
there that's telling me what I hardly believe could be true – that you're Courtney. Now if you are, please don't worry about upsetting your mother or anything. We can just keep on talking with each other by email for as long as you like. No pressure. And it's not like I know where you live or anything. If you're not Courtney, and I've made a mistake, then I apologise. But I just had to take the risk. Will you take one too?

Maddie read this email through twice, and then once more.
Will you take one too?
She knew instinctively that Jake had taken no risk here; he would have already known by now that he was corresponding with his daughter. Had probably known from the first or second message. All the risk had been Ashley's, and by association hers and Sam's as well. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and then clicked open the very last email, dated last Friday.

Hey pumpkin. Glad to hear that the weather has finally cleared, just in time for your fete on Sunday. One whole week of rain must have nearly drowned you all! But have fun and have a ride for me. Do you still like getting your face painted? Or have you outgrown that too? What are you planning for the school holidays?

Love Dad.

Maddie read through the email again, and it was like finding a letter from an old friend, or hearing their voice echo around the corner, when even the act of missing them had been packed away years before. And oddly, given that she would not have chosen for any of this to happen, there was a shaft of jealousy that all this friendliness, this warm camaraderie, was for Ashley alone. Never, not now, for her. She stared at the email until her eyes began to blur, then she wiped them roughly and dragged her concentration back to the logistics of the matter. And it was clearly the weather that had done it, that and the fete. Check and mate. The email address would have already told him that they were in Australia, and the school holiday dates narrowed it down from there. Then all it took was an unusual amount of rain and a school fete to seal the deal. Maddie pictured him sitting in the study at home, ringing each secondary school on his list and asking whether they were hosting a fete this coming Sunday. Until
bingo
. Then it was just a case of coming along and staying in the background. Following them home.

And suddenly there was the sound of a key scrabbling in the lock. She jerked her head around to stare at the door, instantly frozen by terror, her heart a hugely swollen pulse within her chest. Hypnotised by the doorknob as it began to turn.

Maddie rubbed her arms, hard. She suspected, now, that he hadn't meant to be seen at the fete. So much better to simply get an address, then wait for the next day so he could divide and conquer. That was his style. But, oh, how hard must it have been for him on Sunday night, in some hotel, finally knowing where they were but having to wait until the next day. She allowed herself a wry grin and then glanced back at the list of emails to check the date of the first. Four and a half weeks. That was all it had taken him to go from casual Facebook friend to having an address. She felt an odd sense of admiration.

But Maddie also felt relieved that Ashley hadn't actually told him where they were. While every email, every question and answer, every nuance, felt like a personal wound, none of them were an actual stab in the back. Instead she was quite sure that Ashley had thought everything was under control. The stupidity of youth. Whereas her father, even from the Facebook page which had been probably set up years before, had been patiently spinning his web. And once the fly had landed there had been no escape.

SIX

‘M
y sister reckons it's the sharing I can't handle.' The woman shifted her considerable bulk in the plastic chair. ‘Like she keeps going on about how I never could share well, not even as a kid, and so that's the main problem.'

Maddie smiled sympathetically. Protocol required her to refer any clients who needed counselling to trained professionals, but she knew that women like this, who really just wanted a sounding-board, would fall through the cracks while still on the waiting list. Instead she let her talk, nodding every so often and offering some general advice.

‘But that's crap. Seriously. Because I quite like it when he's got the kids. It gives me a break, you know? She's just trying to put it all back on me. That's her style.'

‘And it's a problem for you?'

‘Nah, not really.' The woman grinned, her plump face creasing. Then she sighed. ‘
Her
I can handle. It's this shared care crap I can't. And I reckon he's only doing it for the money. Doesn't have to pay any maintenance then, you know.
And
he gets half my family allowance.'

‘But . . . is he good to them when he has them? The kids?'

The women stared past Maddie's shoulder for a moment while she considered this question. ‘Look, he loves them. No doubt about that. He'd never hit them or nothing. No way. But he's a selfish bugger, so if he wants to do something else, he just does it. Drops them off wherever or leaves them at his place with a bucket of KFC to keep them happy. Huh!
I
can't afford bloody KFC.' She frowned crossly, as if this was salt in her wounds. ‘And they're proper little buggers too, when they come back home. Tired and grumpy, and one minute all over me like a rash, the next giving me lip like you wouldn't believe.'

‘That must be hard for you.'

‘I'll say! Like half the time I have to give them the Monday off school to settle them again!'

‘Well, I suppose the fact he leaves them alone might give you cause for revisiting the parenting orders. And it's really a child protection issue too.'

The woman blinked at Maddie and then drew back. ‘Don't you go suggesting I call child protection, coz I'm not going there. Not a bloody chance. They're not in any danger, you know. Just neglected, that's all.'

‘I see.' Maddie twirled her pen between her fingers. ‘Well, can you speak to him? Try and explain the effect it's having on them?'

‘I've tried.' The woman shrugged. ‘But the thing is, I don't think he sees that sort of thing. The looking ahead stuff. Like he just sees what's happening
now
, and hey, if it pisses me off, then that's even better.'

Maddie nodded, and then stood up, her clipboard hugged against her chest. ‘I'm going to go and have a look on our database for some referrals for you, some places that may be able to help. Or at least give you some advice. So I'll just leave you here for a few minutes?'

‘Fine. No worries.'

Maddie made her way through the noisy waiting room to the glass divider door. She swiped her card and pushed her way through. Back here everything was bustling. Several volunteers had taken over a large bench to pack food hampers for the following week, while the community workers, like Maddie, were hurriedly trying to get through the last clients before closing.

‘Why is it that everyone comes in so late on a Friday?' Olive, an older worker with hair like steel wool, looked up from her computer and spoke to nobody in particular. ‘It's like at three-thirty they all suddenly realise it's almost the weekend and, oh look! I've got nothing to eat!'

‘What gets
me
,' said Lisbeth, coming in behind Maddie, ‘is why they wait till after they pick the kids up from school. You'd think they'd have a bit of pride. Some dignity for god's sake.'

‘Maybe pride
is
the issue,' said Olive, rather snappishly. ‘They put it off as long as possible.'