32. Jessica

BEFORE

"Huwo."

Jessica was in the lounge room reading her book when she heard the greeting.

It was Saturday afternoon. Miss Fairchild had put Amy down for a nap and then ducked down the street to do some errands. Norah and Alicia were doing homework in the kitchen.

"Well… hello." Jessica lowered her book. Amy stood in the doorway, wearing a nappy and a guilty expression. The teddy she carried everywhere dangled from her hand by a paw. "Aren't you supposed to be napping?"

Amy rubbed her eyes sleepily as she toddled over to Jessica. When she extended her arms, it felt so instinctual to pull the girl into her lap.

"Aw," Jessica said, even as she glanced toward the window to check for Miss Fairchild. But the coast was clear. All she saw was a blue-sky, sunshiny day. "That's a nice cuddle. Thank you very much."

Amy rested her cheek against Jessica's chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Even though Jessica was the one holding Amy, she had an overwhelming feeling of being warm and held. Safe.

As Amy snuggled closer, Jessica found herself afraid to breathe, in case the moment dissipated. It was as though the child was a part of her. It was as though she was her.

The arrival of Amy prized open wounds for Jessica, picking open scabs of rejection she'd thought had long healed. The cocktails of emotions Jessica experienced when she saw Amy and Miss Fairchild together was overwhelming. Hot, spiky jealousy, followed by all-consuming guilt. Burning shame. Black resentment. Ice-cold melancholy.

She didn't talk to Alicia and Norah about it because she knew they didn't feel the same way. Perhaps that was what made the pain so personal? They had never been Amy, after all. They had failed to live up to Miss Fairchild's expectations, failed to be her everything. And so, they'd never understand.

The pain was hers and hers alone.

"I sleep here," Amy said.

Jessica was putting on her pajamas when Amy ran into the sisters' room and climbed onto her bed. Immediately the girl crawled under the covers and pretended to snore. "Night, night."

Jessica glanced toward the door anxiously. It wasn't the first time Amy had requested to sleep with Jessica, and Miss Fairchild had made it clear she wasn't happy about it. Unfortunately, Amy was persistent.

"Amy!" Miss Fairchild called. She was still speaking in a bizarre singsong voice, but it was laced with irritation. "Where did you go?"

Miss Fairchild stuck her head into the bedroom. She had already narrowed her eyes, knowing what she would find.

"Amy—" she started, but Amy got in first.

"I. Sleep. Here." She wrapped her arms around Jessica and looked up at Miss Fairchild defiantly.

Miss Fairchild glared at Jessica.

"No, Amy." Miss Fairchild smiled but her eyes were cool. "You sleep with Mummy."

"No!" Amy cried. "I sleep here!"

Jessica had to admit, her determination was impressive. She wondered if things would have been different if she'd defied Miss Fairchild rather than bending to her every whim in an attempt to win her love.

It was the humiliation, Jessica knew, that would upset Miss Fairchild the most. She'd always been so aware of how things looked. Jessica was much more interested in how they felt. And she knew this interaction did not feel good.

"Okay," Miss Fairchild said, advancing on Jessica and Amy in a way that made Amy cower. Her little fingers gripped the back of Jessica's neck. "Enough of this silliness. Let's go."

Amy flailed and kicked and cried as Miss Fairchild pried her away from Jessica. Jessica suffered the brunt of it, receiving several kicks, but she didn't mind. It wasn't Amy's fault. Miss Fairchild wasn't as forgiving when she was kicked.

"Amy," Miss Fairchild said sharply. "That's very naughty."

It was the closest to angry she'd been with Amy since the girl had arrived. A bead of worry formed in Jessica's chest—one that never truly went away.

Amy had been with them for six months when a car pulled into the driveway unexpectedly. Jessica and Alicia were sweeping the porch at the time.

"Who is that?" Jessica asked, squinting.

"I think it's Sandi," Alicia said. "My social worker."

She sounded mystified. This was justified, as it had been more than a year since they'd had a visit from a social worker other than Scott. Miss Fairchild seemed similarly mystified when Jessica slipped inside to give their foster mother the heads-up.

"But the place isn't clean!" she cried.

"It is," Jessica said, unable to repress the urge to reassure her. "It's fine."

Miss Fairchild hesitated. "Not the basement."

It was an odd comment. The social workers had never looked in the basement—at least, Scott never had.

"You need to go down there," she said to Jessica. "Take the broom. It's probably covered in dust."

Jessica stared at her. "What?"

"Go on. You can take Amy for company, since she loves you so much. Don't come up until it's spick-and-span."

She dragged Jessica down the hallway and pushed her through the door leading to the basement. "There's a light on a chain at the bottom of the stairs," she said, thrusting Amy into her arms. "Have fun, my darling girls."

The door closed, plunging them into absolute darkness. Jessica was still reeling as she heard the latch. They were locked in.

Amy began to cry.

"It's okay," Jessica said, reaching for the handrail. "We're playing hide-and-seek."

Amy clung to her as Jessica made her way carefully down the stairs. She was warm and sweet-smelling and comforting in the dark. At the bottom, as Miss Fairchild promised, she found a chain, and pulled it. The light was a single globe, only slightly better than nothing. Only then did Jessica realize Miss Fairchild had forgotten to give her the broom.

What the hell are we doing down here?Jessica wondered. It didn't make sense. She didn't really believe that Miss Fairchild wanted her to clean the basement. Even given the surprise nature of the visit, the social worker would have found a clean house, well-looked-after kids—a vision of happiness, at least from the outside. Instead, she'd find two children unaccounted for.

"Down," Amy said, wriggling to get out of Jessica's grasp.

Jessica looked at the floor, trying to assess whether it was suitable for a toddler. As Miss Fairchild had said, it was dusty. It was also cold. And mostly empty other than a pile of boxes beside an old bicycle. At the far end of the room was a single window that faced a brick wall, and a mattress turned on its side.

"Down!" Amy said, louder now, and Jessica had no choice but to let her slide off her hip to the ground.

"All right," she said. "But don't sit, okay? We have to stand."

Amy showed no indication she'd heard or understood as she toddled toward the bicycle. Overhead, Jessica could hear footsteps and the murmur of voices. Amy spun the wheel on the bicycle and rummaged in the boxes. Unlike Jessica, who was quite unnerved by being plunged into darkness, Amy now seemed quite relaxed and happy.

"Raaaaa," she said into the darkness.

She was holding a knitted lion she'd retrieved from a box. It was scrappily knitted—obviously homemade.

"Lion," Jessica said. "Can you say ‘lion'?"

Amy dropped the lion and dug into another box, this time pulling out a toy duck. "Kack kack," she said.

"Quack quack." Jessica peered at the toys. She didn't recognize them. Perhaps they were from Miss Fairchild's own childhood.

Amy pulled out a knitted doll. It was bigger than the duck and the lion, almost as big as a newborn. Amy settled down and started to play with it, making adorable crying sounds and then patting it on the back, while Jessica listened for what was happening above.

They'd been down there about half an hour when a shaft of light finally broke into the space.

"Jessica?" It was Miss Fairchild. "You can come up now."

"Let's go, Amy," Jessica said, eager to get out of there. As she took the doll from the girl to return it to the box, she noticed it had blond curls, blue eyes, a blue dress, frilly socks, and black Mary Janes. Across its chest a name had been sewn into it in block letters.

Jessica blinked as she read it.

AMY.