I go straight back to bed and try to shrug off the feeling. I don’t even bother to turn off the kitchen light, telling myself I need to make sure I can see Rhi in the bed. Tucking the sheet over both of us I reason that it is one way to keep the mozzies off.

I shut my eyes tight, refusing to open them again till morning.

Day 3, Daylight

Day 3, Daylight

Morning brings a little more hope. An even bigger mob turns up, driving in from different towns to help. Uncle Joe fires off roads and properties like some kind of drill sergeant, teaming people up, different cars and drivers to different terrains. Some of the local property owners who are friendly with their black workers are happy to let us search their land, especially in the areas where they share a boundary with the Potters’ property. We take that to mean even the whitefullas think the Potters have something to do with Laney’s disappearance. I spend a lot of time making pots of tea and helping Mum fry up breakfast. Not once do I beg Mum to join, silently helping her cook and clean, before going and setting myself up in the lounge with my notebook and textbooks. She is so busy organising food and supplies that she doesn’t notice at first, but as everyone files out she stops and eyes me.

‘What are you up to?’

‘Mrs Clay hit us with a surprise assignment yesterday and it’s due on Monday. She just wants all us kids to have as miserable a life as she does. Bitter old troll.’

Mum chokes on her own laughter. ‘Daughter, knock off talkin like that.’

There is no heat in her words; Mum used to go to this school too. She bends over to give me a kiss before heading out the door. Waving them all off is where I go wrong. I know I’ve overdone it when Mum’s eyes narrow. Heading back inside, I finish cleaning up the kitchen and am stuffing things into my port when I feel a presence. I’m not surprised to find Mum in my bedroom doorway.

‘What are you doin?’ Mum is still eyeing me.

‘Gettin ready for school. What are you doin?’ I ask, giving my best ‘my parent is crazy’ face; eyes widening, one brow lifts as if to say, ‘And …?’

A loud beep from outside and Uncle Joe’s voice yelling ‘Al, move your arse’ breaks the staring contest. Mum hesitates. I need her out there looking for Laney, not here watching me.

‘Mum, what’s wrong? Aren’t you gonna go get Laney?’

That’s when I notice tears in her eyes and I feel lower than a squashed dog turd. The woman was living her worst nightmare and I’m making things harder. Stepping forwards I grip Mum’s hand and stare her dead in the eyes.