Grievous Harm. Sandy Curtis
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you go, love.'
In spite of the anxiety that ate into her with the persistence of a headache, she found herself returning his smile. His hair, bottle-white and gelled to bristle-stiffness, combined with his pale cheeks, reminded her of a drawing of a toothbrush Cindy had sent her after she and Melanie had returned to Sydney. Kate's heart tightened at the memory of her niece's belaboured letters spelling out her love for her aunt.
I'll find you.
Kate saw the clerk's eyes widen, and realised she'd given voice to her silent vow. 'Sorry. Jet lag. I have relatives in Sydney but they seem to have left and I don't know where they've gone.'
'Ooh, bit of detective work, eh? I love a good mystery. Just ask if you need any help.' He held out a key and several sheets of paper. 'Your room's on the first floor; see the plan. Maps are on the stand over there if you need one.' He waved a hand and Kate smothered a smile at the tiny flower faces painted on his fingernails. 'And there's a barbecue on the rooftop at six-thirty.'
'Shrimp on the barbie?' she asked.
Glen laughed. 'We call them prawns over here, love.'
A childhood of following her father's dreams of a successful singing career from gig to gig had taught Kate to pack sparingly, and it wasn't long before she had distributed the contents of her backpack into the wardrobe in her room. She spread the map on the bed and worked out the closest public transport to get back to Melanie's house in the morning. Her finances wouldn't stretch to more taxi rides, especially if her stay in Australia was extended. Tomorrow she'd knock on more doors. Surely a woman and child couldn't disappear without someone being aware of it.
Frying onions and sizzling steak. Kate breathed in the smell as she stepped out onto the rooftop, where huge canvas sails provided cover from the elements. She watched as backpackers filled their plates and sat at the tables clustered around the barbecue.
'First night's meal is free, love,' Glen said when Kate proffered her money. 'How did you go with the map? Did it help?'
She nodded. 'I just have to figure out what train to catch.'
'Station's not far away. Just ask at the ticket office.' He pointed to a table laden with baskets of bread rolls and stainless steel containers filled with salads. 'Just grab some and line up at the barbie.'
Fifteen minutes later Kate chewed through the last mouthful of her steakburger and washed it down with a can of bourbon and Coke. She tossed her paper plate in the bin, walked over to the stone parapet surrounding the rooftop, and gazed at the street below. Traffic, people, lights, all moving, hustling, noisy. So close and yet so distant, so removed from how she felt and the fear of what she might find tomorrow.
Glen walked up next to her and placed his glass of wine on the parapet. 'If you can't find their new address you can always check the electoral rolls. It's compulsory to vote over here so it's one way of tracing people.'
'Thanks, but I doubt my sister-in-law would remember to do that.'
A cool breeze swirled across the rooftop. She shivered, the knot of anxiety in her chest tightening further.
The fence and front wall of the terrace house adjoining Melanie's showed signs of neglect, but the garden spilled yellow and white daisies onto the path and neat shrubs provided a green barrier to the tiny paved porch. Two wrought iron chairs and a table squeezed into the small space.
Kate ignored the brass knocker on the front door and pressed the electric doorbell installed at the side. As the chimes ended, the door opened a fraction. A wrinkled face framed by stark white hair appeared above the security chain.
'Hello,' Kate smiled. She had a fleeting memory of having glimpsed sight of the old woman during her last visit from the States. 'I'm looking for Melanie Maclaren. I'm her sister-in-law, Kate.'
Before she could say any more, the old woman shook her head. 'She's gone.'
'Do you know where she's gone? Please? I've come all the way from the States to see her.'
'Won't do you any good.' Rheumy eyes showed sadness, then disgust. 'Once that mob got hold of her she was no good to anyone.'
The door began to close. Kate raised her hand to stop it, but she was too late. It shut with a thud. Pushing back the fear caused by the old woman's words, she was about to press the button again when she heard a scraping noise. The door opened, this time without the security chain holding it.
'The little girl looks like you,' the old woman said as she shuffled out and sat on one of the patio chairs. 'So I thought you had to be telling the truth. And that Yank accent. But her hair was long last time I saw her, not short like yours.'
Kate sat on the other chair, her heart thumping in anticipation. 'When did you last see her?'
'Weeks ago. Melanie came over to tell me that she'd given her mother's house to that church mob.'
'What? She gave them the house? Her mother gifted that to her before she died because she wanted Cindy to have some stability in her life.'
The old woman snorted. 'Well, she never got that from Melanie. Your brother must have loved her a lot to put up with her flibbertigibbet ways.'
The deep stab of loss that always came when she thought of Paul prevented Kate from answering for a moment. 'Paul was…solid. Melanie relied on him a lot. That's why she had such trouble coping after he died. I'd hoped, when she said she was going back to Australia to live, that she would pull herself together for Cindy's sake.'
'Not a hope,' the woman snorted. 'Melanie's always been a needy little thing. When she got involved with this so-called religious group they just took over her life. At first she asked me to mind Cindy so she could go to their meetings, then she started taking Cindy with her. Not that Cindy liked it.' She smiled indulgently. 'She could be a stubborn little thing at times. Pity Melanie didn't have some of her backbone. Just gave her house to that church mob and went to live in one of their communes. It all happened just about overnight.'
Commune? Kate's head reeled. 'Do you know where?'
The old woman shook her head. 'She didn't say. I don't think she even knew herself. Just packed a few suitcases, a car pulled up, and off they went. I'd tried to persuade her to sell the house and put the money aside for Cindy's future, but she reckoned she didn't have to worry. Said her new family would look after that. They especially loved children.'
Suspicion rose in Kate's chest like bile. A church that took your house in exchange for a place in their commune sounded more like a cult.
'Cindy still had that quilt you made her when she was a bub. The patchwork one with teddy bears and butterflies,' the woman said, as though sensing Kate's distress and wanting to reassure her. 'She told me how much her Aunty Kate loved her because that was the only sewing you ever did and you did it just for her. She even showed me how you made a bear pocket on it for her pyjamas.'
Kate nodded, the sudden lump in her throat making it impossible to speak.
'It was rolled up and tied to Cindy's suitcase the day they left.' The old woman's voice was a mix of sadness and regret.
The shrubbery in front of Kate began to blur, and she swiped at her eyes with the side of her hand. 'Do you know where I can find this religious group? And what they call themselves?'
The old woman sighed. 'Melanie gave me pamphlets, trying to convince me to go to their meetings, but I threw them away. I'm getting close to meeting my maker and I'm not changing sides at the last minute. And I'm sorry, but I can't remember where they meet. Somewhere in the city, I think. But I do remember what they call themselves - the Loving Hand.'
An internet search through both the white and yellow pages of the phone book proved futile, and Google yielded only a brief newspaper report about the dubious representation of the Loving Hand as a religion. Kate spent a frustrating afternoon walking the streets of Sydney asking every second person if they knew of the church or where it was. Her anxiety over Cindy's welfare had now escalated into full-blown fear of what Melanie may have led the girl