Her question hovers in the air. She searches her mother’s face. Her heart falters. But Mum is smiling her gorgeous watermelon smile. “Of course, babe. I’ll come to your concert tomorrow. Wouldn’t miss it.” Tania’s brown eyes soften. Tentacles of warmth invade her chest . Until. Until her memories roughly push aside her short-lived joy. She’s heard these promises before.
Her eighth birthday shoulders its way into her mind. “You can have a party. Invite your friends after school. I’ll buy balloons. You can play party games and I’ll make you the best cake.” All day excitement simmers. As soon as the bell goes, she and her besties race home, effervescent with anticipation. But at the gate, no balloons are waving from the letterbox. No music is spilling from open windows. The house is silent. And inside, the too-familiar, dreaded, sweet smell. Shame and anger raging, Tania sneaks into her mother ’s room. She finds her, as she knows she will, sprawled across the bed. Adrift. Unresponsive. Anger wins. Tania snatches up her Mum’s purse. Checks for money inside. Triumphant, she summons her friends.
“Come on. Mum said we can go to McDonalds for the party.” Her humiliation is hidden. Her day is not ruined.
On the day of the concert, Mum is still sleeping when Tania slides out the door and makes her way to school. The mist-filled, deserted playground promises heat to come. Mrs Brown, already humming in Room 4, is busy preparing for the day ahead. Tania runs to her, putting her arms around her. Mrs Brown responds, automatically picking up a hairbrush and quickly transforming the tousled hair into pigtails. “Is Mummy coming to the concert, dear?” she asks gently.
Her answer is muffled. “She said she would.” She helps Mrs Brown arrange the chairs in rows and soon the classroom is filled with excited chatter:
Dad’s taking the morning off,
Nana’s coming,
So nervous,
What if….?
Finding sanctuary in the reading corner, Tania hugs Mum’s words to herself. “Wouldn’t miss it.” Wouldn’t she?
But then, bracelets jangling, Mum strolls in. Skinny jeans. White crop top contrasting her coffee skin and tattooed arms. Mum. She picks her way past the other mothers overflowing the too-small chairs, arranges herself near the air conditioner. Checks her phone. Her face aglow, Tania waves to her.
“Tēna koutou, tēna koutou, tēna koutou katoa,” Mrs Brown welcomes everybody before introducing the first item. In the front row, Tania sings Pūrerehua, rere runga hau
her hands mimicking the wings of the butterfly fluttering on the wind. She moves with natural grace, confident in knowing the words to all the songs. She sings for her mother, eyes fixed on her She sings for her joy at Mum keeping her promise.
Afterwards, Mum hugs her. “You were the best, baby. You take after me with your singing voice. I’m so proud of you.” She holds her phone at arm’s length, nestles her head against Tania’s, sucks in her cheeks, pouts her lips, and ‘click’. There the two of them are, smiling, together in the photo. Mum chats with some of the other mothers and Mrs Brown, then gives Tania some money to buy lunch. Tania feels her heart overflowing. All through lunchtime she feels elated. She shares her bought lunch with her friends. She swings on the monkey bars. She plays What’s the time Mr Wolf?
It has been the best morning ever. But the clouds are jostling the sun as the children line up after lunch to go back inside. They wriggle and squirm, the excitement of the concert still with them. Mrs Brown speaks sharply to call them into class and it’s then they notice that her usually smiling eyes are red-rimmed. “My purse is missing. It was in my handbag beside my desk and now it’s gone,” she explains. “I don’t usually have money at school, but today I was going to the garage to pay for the repairs to my car. Now I won’t be able to get my car back.” The class clamours to help look for the purse. A red one. But Mrs Brown tells them she has searched everywhere. The class deflates. Their mood becomes sombre. They speak in hushed tones. Mrs Brown tries to be cheerful. She praises their singing, lets them choose an activity, then reads them their favourite story. But her clear voice lacks its usual vitality. Even the liveliest children are downcast.
Tania hurries home. She is so happy that Mum came to the concert but she also wants to share the dreadful news of the lost purse. She must tell Mum. She’s sure Mum will be as upset as she is. “Mum, I’m home,” she calls as she opens the door. There is no answer. Through the open bedroom door, Tania sees her mother sleeping, but the empty kitchen shares its secret – a red purse lies on the table. Again Tania feels that familiar shame. And again, anger bubbles up and takes the lead. A quick look in the wallet reveals the money is still inside. There is no hesitation. Tania grasps the purse tightly and heads out the door again. Her feet fly over the pavement as she makes her way back to school, pigtails flying.
She is puffing when she reaches her classroom. Mrs Brown, sitting working at her desk, looks up in surprise when Tania catapults into her. “ I found it, “ she says. “Now you can get your car back.” She feels strong arms close around her. A warm cheek rests against hers. And a whisper gladdens her ear,
“You’re the best.”
What happened was... 