At My Door (4 page)

I used to wear. They're so
loud
– I wouldn't be seen dead in anything like that now. And there's a tiny pale green hat, the same colour as Mei's blanket. It must have been my first ever hat. It has a picture of an ice-cream and a beachball on it. Mum calls it a
bonnet
.

I rummage around deep to get to the toys. There's a cute plastic pastel-coloured mouse whose ears you can twist to make clicking noises; and a pink stuffed kitten, with blue dotty ears. I hold her to me. Pink Kitten. She was my absolute fave soft toy. Then there's my old blanket –
nonnels
, I used to call her. Sometimes
nonnelly-non-nons
. I had her with me every night until I stopped sucking my thumb, something Harry likes to remind me of as frequently as possible. I pop my thumb in my mouth now, just to see what it feels like. It's okay, but it doesn't make me want to take up the habit again or anything.

My hand rests on something hard in the bottom of the box, and I pull it out. It's a little wooden toy man with a body of bright painted discs that slink about like a wavy snake. It feels nice in your hands, and goes
click-clack
when the discs touch each other. I think Mei will like it.

Which is good, because just then a howling cry comes from the lounge room.

I send my hand into the lounge first, with the wooden man doing a little clickety-clack jig. The wailing stops abruptly. I poke my head around the corner, just as Mum's coming in. She looks at me in amazement. ‘Poppy, where —?'

‘I know, Mum, it's my old toy, remember?'

She nods, beaming. ‘Yes!'

We look at Mei. She is smiling through her tears. She says something, and points at it.

I move towards her slowly, saying, ‘This? Do you want to play with this? I thought you might like it.' I kneel down next to her and put it in her hands.

Her podgy fingers grab it and bend it roughly back and forth, and she giggles and bashes it on the armrest of the sofa.

‘I've got something else,' I say to her. ‘Do you want to see it?'

She nods.

I look up at Mum and widen my eyes meaningfully at her.
She understands!

When I come back, I have Pink Kitten, and Mum is clickety-clacking the wooden man and laughing with Mei. Six heads are poking around the corner from the kitchen, with varying kinds of smiles on their faces.

Dad looks at me and gives me the thumbs up as if to say,
Great job!

I kneel down again and show Mei Pink Kitten. ‘Meow, meow,' I say, and then purr as best as I can, but, really, we need Harry here for that because he can make that
r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-
noise brilliantly. (Though he can't click his fingers as well as I can.)

Mei says something in toddler language and reaches for Pink Kitten.

‘Cat,' I say, giving it to her.

She grabs it and squeezes it tight. ‘Cat!' she says.

‘So she definitely has a few words,' I hear someone say from the kitchen.

There are various murmurs of agreement before I hear a huge thump against our garage door. It's Harry's ball. He's not allowed to do that. Denting Potential.

Dad crosses the lounge and opens the front door. ‘Harry! Move away from the garage, please, mate. We're trying to have a conversation in here.'

I hear Harry mumble something and the sound of his ball skittering further away. I look back at Mei. She is at the window. ‘Ball!' she says, pointing out at him. ‘Me, ball!'

Mei shouts ‘Ball!' every time she catches a glimpse of it through the window.

I look at Mum.

‘She can't go out there,' Mum says. ‘She's in her Wondersuit. She'd need something on her feet, and a cardie, at least.' She peers through the window at Harry. It's still cold – even if Harry is wearing shorts, as usual.

‘Do you have any of our old clothes, Mum? I mean, apart from the ones you're keeping in the special box?'

‘No … I gave most of them to Uncle Mo for Bella. And the rest went to the Salvos.'

I crouch at the window next to Mei. ‘Do you like balls?'

She nods and then gives her body a big wobble and yells, ‘Ball!'

I slide open the window and call Harry.

He trots over, nudging the ball along from foot to foot as he goes. ‘What's up?'

I tilt my head towards Mei. ‘Look who's awake.'

‘Good morning!' he says, through the flyscreen. ‘I'm Harry. Floppy's brother.'

‘Har
r-y
,' Mum warns.

Mei stares at him.

‘
Poppy
, I mean. I've just been out here, playing with my mate, Wall.'

‘Wall?' Mum says. ‘Who?'

He looks at her and says, ‘Mu-u-u-um.
Wall.
I have a friend and his name is Wall. He's my special football friend. Get it?'

Mum shakes her head. ‘Oh, you silly duffer. You make me laugh.'

Mei is watching Harry's every move. ‘She likes your ball,' I say.

‘Ball!' Mei yells in agreement.

Mum says, ‘Can you dry it off and bring it in, Harry? It's too cold for her to go out.'

Harry kicks off his boots and comes in, holding the ball high. ‘I'll just dry it with a tea towel, hang on.'

He trundles into the kitchen before he sees everyone at the table. ‘Ah, sorry,' he says, slowing to a tiptoe. ‘I just need a —' he points at the tea towels hanging from the oven door.

‘That's fine, Harry,' Dad ushers him in, ‘come on through.'

‘Ball!' Mei shouts and waddles after Harry into the kitchen, into the meeting that's all about her.

Mum and I follow Mei into the kitchen. As we come in, everybody stops talking and one of the police officers says quietly, ‘Can we try asking her – straight out – where she lives?'

Noula goes over to Mei and crouches down on the floor like she's about to do leapfrog. ‘Mei, where's home? Where do you live?'

Mei's face whitens and she bursts into tears. Running back to the lounge room window, she pushes her face against the glass. It fogs up as she wails
Mama!
through it.

Mum bends forward slightly like she's in pain.

‘It's okay, Jess,' Dad puts his arm around her.

‘It's
not
okay,' Mum says. ‘It's not okay at all. Where
is
this child's family? How could they
do
this?'

Liz nods and says, ‘It's a dreadful thing to witness, isn't it. The sooner we can reunite them the better.'

The policewoman says, ‘Mei's photo was released by the Police Media Liaison Unit this morning in the hope that someone who knows her – maybe someone at a day care centre, or a family friend – will see her on the news and contact us with information.'

‘Well, I just hope that's soon,' Mum says. ‘Because she needs her mother.'

The adults stand to leave as a bad smell drifts in from the lounge room. Mei is squatting at the window. I say into Mum's ear, ‘I think she's done a poo,' and giggle.

Mum looks up and wipes tears away with her fingers. ‘Oh has she now? Well, Poppy, come
on, let's deal with that, shall we?'

Everyone nods in relief. And then Mum says, ‘And then I think I might see if little Mei would like some porridge. Porridge is always good when you're sad.'

Poo. It looks a lot like chocolate mousse, really. Which is a shame because I love chocolate mousse and I'm not sure I'll be able to eat it again after The Nappy Change.

Once I've washed my hands about fifty times I head to the kitchen.

‘They've gone,' Dad says.

‘Good,' Mum says. ‘What's the time?' ‘Coming up to midday,' Dad says.

‘I might just flick on the news and catch the headlines before lunch,' she says, flopping down on the red couch. When she turns on the TV, there's an ad on for
Operation Ouch
. It's my
favourite show – about these twin doctors, in real life, and they take you around their hospital and show all sorts of weird and gross things, like cameras going up people's noses and down into their tummies and stuff.

Mum flicks over to ABC1 just in time for the headlines. ‘Off you go, kids, this isn't appropriate for you two,' she says. ‘You know we don't like you watching the news. They only ever show the bad stuff.'

Harry groans and says, like always, ‘Why
can't
we watch, Mum? It's just what's happening in the world – it's just real life.'

‘Exactly,' she says, staring straight ahead at the screen.

Harry pushes himself off the couch and stomps out in a huff.

Mei follows him, dragging her blanket. ‘Ball?' I hear her ask quietly to his disappearing back.

‘No ball,' he grumbles as he goes.

‘You too, Poppy,' Mum says gently, ‘off you go.'

I sigh and get up.

Then Mum makes a choking sound and points at the telly, eyes huge. ‘Look!'

I see a photo of Mei on the screen. Mei, our Mei! Mei in our house! A big picture of her face.

The newsreader, a woman, is saying: ‘Police are searching for the child's family, and they urge anyone with any information about her to call Crime Stoppers. The child is believed to be about eighteen months old and was found on the doorstep of a home in Belleview late last night.'

‘That's us,' I squeak. ‘That's Mei!'

‘I know,' Mum whispers hoarsely. ‘Mei's on the news. The poor little thing.'