“Having a big night?” a voice behind her said. Bazza. He was smiling at her and eyeing the assortment of snacks.
“Yeah,” she said, putting down Mia’s note and matching it with one of her own, feeling a twinge of guilt like she always did when she spent money unnecessarily.
“How’s your sister?” he asked.
“Cranky, but fine.”
“Frank had my bollocks for telling you we were worried at the station.” He laughed, but she noticed a sour note in his voice.
She smiled at him, then took her change and the bag from the cashier.
“I appreciated you telling me,” she said, waiting while he took out a credit card to pay for his milk, bread and chocolate biscuits. Now that Frank wasn’t here, maybe she could get a bit more information out of him.
“So,” she said casually, “how many other families got dolls?”
He thought about it as he put the card back in his wallet. “The Rileys, the Hanes and the Cunninghams... So, just three.”
Rose half expected him to count on his fingers, the idiot. He’d just told her the names of the families without her even having to ask. They walked out of the service station together, Bazza holding his plastic bag in one hand and swinging the large bottle of milk in the other.
“Are you with Mia?” he asked, looking over at her car. Rose was just about to snigger, there was a definite eagerness to his voice, when she saw Mia’s face drop as she spotted them. It took all of three seconds for Rose to grasp how stupid she was being. Mia was more than tipsy, and they both probably stank of rum. Bazza was off work, but he was still a cop. Rose had been so focused on trying to get a lead she hadn’t even thought of it.
“I’ll come say hi,” he continued.
“Sorry, I forgot we were in a hurry. See you later!” she said and ran back to the car, pulling on her seat belt and waving at Bazza. They drove very carefully out of the gas station and then veered quickly around the corner. Mia’s house was only two streets away.
* * *
Rose had met Mia on the first day of kindergarten. She’d been wandering around at lunchtime, looking for a good place to eat her lunch alone. Even as a five-year-old, she hadn’t been great at niceties, so meeting new people hadn’t come naturally to her. Holding her lunch box, her backpack a strange new weight on her back, she’d staked out a small flowering bush. If she sat behind there, she’d been sure no one would bother her. But as she turned the corner, she saw that there was already a little girl sitting behind the bush. She was crouched on the ground, holding her arm up at a strange angle, staring at it.
What are you doing? Rose had asked.
Mia had smiled. Look, she’d said.
Rose had got down onto her knees and looked at Mia’s arm. There was a tiny red ladybug on her wrist.
Fairies, Mia had whispered.
No, they’re ladybugs, Rose had said.
Mia shook her head solemnly, looking at Rose as though she was the silliest person in the world. Ladybugs are fairies. Didn’t you know?
Rose had looked from the ladybug back to Mia. Really?
Yeah, and if you sit here long enough, they’ll climb all over you, Mia said. I already did it this morning. This is their fairy house.
So Rose had sat. They’d sat in silence to begin with, watching as the beautiful little red bugs timidly made their way onto Rose. It tickled a little bit. Eventually they’d started talking, and upon finding out that Mia had no mum, and Rose had no dad, they decided they should be best friends.
* * *
“You’ll have to feed me,” Mia called from the couch. She was lying on her back, arms above her head, eyes closed.
Mia’s house was even smaller and shittier than Rose’s, although it was always impeccably tidy. The place sort of resembled a caravan, without the wheels. Her kitchen cupboards and small table were covered in laminate, printed with a fake wood grain. The couch, which doubled as Mia’s bed, was squeezed tight in the small lounge room, the main room of the house. On the left were two doors. One to the bathroom, the other to Mia’s father’s room. Both were closed.
Rose took out two bowls from the cupboard. She opened the chip packets, the plastic making loud squeaky sounds, and threw a chip toward Mia. She opened her mouth wide, but it missed, landing on her forehead. Rose emptied the rest into the bowls.
The squeaking sound of bedsprings moving sounded from the other room.
“He must be awake. Back in a sec.” Mia slid off the couch, munching on the chip, and went into his room. Rose could hear her talking quietly from inside, her voice soft and gentle.
Rose put the bowls on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, still feeling the heat from Mia’s body on the backs of her thighs. She switched on the TV and opened the chocolate. Tossing a square into her mouth, she wanted to close her eyes, the rich sweetness tasted so good. She’d forgotten to have lunch today and she was starving.
“It’s starting!” she called. A girl was walking around her apartment, creepy music playing in the background. Rose knew she was probably going to die within the next five minutes, but she still couldn’t help feeling jealous that the girl had her own place. This girl had a cool Japanese-style dressing gown and could wander around in it and make tea whenever she wanted.
Mia ran back in and sat on the couch. “What did I miss?”
On the screen, a cat pounced through the window and they both jumped. Laughing at each other, they settled back on the couch, passing the frozen Coke back and forth between them. Soon, the murderer appeared. A sack over his head. They tried not to scream out loud and bother Mia’s dad.
“Isn’t he meant to be wearing a hockey mask?”
“I think that comes later.”
Rose thought a sack was probably creepier anyway.
“The hockey mask would make him look like a paper-plate kid.”
“Awww,” Mia cooed.
“Why is he doing it again?” Rose asked when it cut to commercials. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen the first one.
“Killing everyone?”
“Yeah.”
Mia leaned back, stretching out her feet on the coffee table. Her toenails were painted a dark purple. “Something to do with teenagers having sex instead of taking care of him when he was a kid.”
“So stupid,” Rose groaned. Somehow, giving someone a good reason for mass murder made it so much more fascinating. She wondered what reason the person would have to leave dolls on kids’ doorsteps. It really was such a bizarre thing to do. Mia squealed from next to her; Rose hadn’t even been watching. She got comfy, nestling her bare feet underneath herself.
By midway through, the violence had lost its shock. They were both sleepy and covered in crumbs and their stomachs swirled. They were lying down now, Rose’s head on Mia’s hip.
“I should go,” she said.
“Yeah, I’ll drive you.”
“Okay.”
Neither of them moved.
* * *
By the time Rose got home she knew she had left it too late. She shouldn’t have gone to Mia’s house. She should have been here when her mother got home, not left her mother’s anger to stew even more.
“Hi,” she said.
Her mother just