Free At My Door by Deb Fitzpatrick Page B

there.’
    â€˜Are you nuts? Mum will go ballistic if she sees you, you know that. Do you have any idea how late it is?’
    â€˜I don’t care, Harry, I’m on a mission. There’s a lost kid in our lounge room!’
    I hear him say something else but by then I’ve got my notepad and pen and am commando-crawling back down the corridor.
    This time I position myself so that I can see more of what’s going on, though they can’t see me because I’m low down and in the shadow of the wall. Anyway, Mum and Dad only ever come to our rooms after lights-out when they’re on their way to bed themselves. And they’re nowhere near going to bed tonight.
    Mei is sitting on the old couch, a yellowplastic cup wobbling in her hand. Mum and Dad are on the new red couch and the police officers are on a couple of chairs brought in from the kitchen. The policeman has his notebook open on his knee. His notebook has a plain black cover. Kind of boring. No owls or anything.
    The policeman puts his mug down on the coffee table and says to the policewoman, ‘I’ll call Family Services now. They’ll have to arrange a place for her to stay.’
    Mum looks up and says, ‘But she can stay here tonight. Where she already is. It’s too late to move her, surely …’
    â€˜Well, that’s very kind of you, Mrs Campbell, but there’s a protocol in these situations and we have to follow it —’
    â€˜We have our own two children here, Harry and Poppy, and plenty of space. And she
was
left here …’
    â€˜Yes, but —’
    Mum shifts forward on the couch. ‘And I have a Working With Children Check card.’
    Which is when the policewoman says, ‘Look,’ and tilts her head toward the old couch.
    â€˜Would you look at that,’ Dad says quietly.
    I crane forward, and Mei’s asleep, crumpled into her blanket like a soft toy, the yellow cup leaning to one side.
    â€˜Ohhh little one,’ Mum says, and goes to her. She slides the cup out of her hand and brings the blanket around her more comfortably. Then she reaches for a cushion and puts it on the open side of her body, so she’s snugged in.
    Dad gets up and dims the lights. ‘Surely she can stay here tonight, while you look for her family.’
    The policewoman looks at him, then at Mei, and says, ‘And it looks like she’s comfortable with that, too.’
    My eyes are golfballs. Far out, brussel sprout. We have a guest for the night.

I scurry back to my room like a spider to its web, and rap on the wall. Harry buzzes.
    â€˜She’s staying the night!’ I report.
    â€˜No way. Are you serious?’
    â€˜Yes! Deadly!’
    â€˜Wow.’
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜I wonder how long she’ll stay.’
    â€˜Probably just tonight by the sound of it.’
    I wonder what they’re talking about now. I can’t bear what I might be missing – crucial information!
    â€˜I need to get back out there, Harry.’
    â€˜You only just got back!’
    â€˜I know!’
    â€˜One of these times they’re bound to catch you. And then there’ll be
consequences
.’
    â€˜I don’t care. I’m going.’
    This time I wrap my stripey dressing-gown around me, and tie the belt tight to keep it close. I’m getting cold, spending this much time out of bed. As I creep out of my room I take a look at the clock: 11.30. Holy guacamole! And it’s a school night.
    As I approach the lounge room the policeman is saying, ‘We’ll have to get permission from the station for her to stay here.’
    â€˜Yes, of course,’ Mum says. ‘We’ll do everything we can to help Mei feel comfortable and safe while this is sorted out.’
    â€˜Thanks, Mrs Campbell.’ He pauses. ‘Do you think you’ve ever seen her before? Around the neighbourhood?’
    â€˜I haven’t,’ said Dad, ‘but I’m