Crisis of Identity

Feeling starched from a day in the sun, we left Mitch and Bec on the beach to take a fifteen minute Uber to Robina.

As we cruised along Woodlands Drive, Sarah directed the driver to her house at number 26.

‘I thought we were going to the Evans house,’ I said.

‘We are. It’s just that…’ Sarah’s focus shifted to the driver watching us in the rear view mirror. She motioned for us to exit the vehicle. Once on the road side she continued. ‘I’ve told mum about what is happening to you and she wants to meet you.’ She bit down of her bottom lip. ‘I hope you don’t mind…’ She forced out a timid smile.

Why would I mind being paraded around like a side-show freak? But what I actually said was, ‘as long as she is not another one who thinks I’m Jayden Evans…’

‘No. She won’t. She understands what has been happening to you.’

Sarah led me down a long drive way to the rear of the single storey brick veneer house. An inviting light blue rectangular concrete pool, surrounded by glass fencing, occupied most of the back yard. We entered a large sunroom via a sliding patio door.

Two ceiling fans on high speed moved the warm air around the south facing room. Cane furniture with floral coverings positioned in front of a 190cm wall mounted TV, dominated the ceramic tiled floor space.

‘Through here…’ Sarah said, gesturing to a doorway. We entered a kitchen-meals area. ‘Do you want a drink?’ Sarah opened the door to one of the widest stainless steel fridges I have seen.

‘Sure…’

She grabbed two beers and handed me one. She cracked hers and took a swig. ‘I’ll just go and see if I can find mum…’

I watched her exit the kitchen into a hallway. While leaning back against the breakfast bar sipping on my beer, I took a typical first-time glance around the kitchen-meals area.

The updated kitchen boasted stone bench tops, stainless steel appliances and timber look cabinetry, too modern for the era of this house.

Checking out the framed photos on the side board in the meals area occupied some further wait time. Without trying, I had almost finished my beer and Sarah still hadn’t re-emerged. I checked my watch, followed by a stretch of my neck to glance down the hall.

I slid into a seat at the dining table. Presumably Sarah was briefing her mum on what to say and what not to say.

‘Sorry for the wait…’ Sarah said bursting through the door way. She gestured behind her. ‘This is my mum, Jackie…’ Her mum entered the room and smiled at me.

She was a slim figured woman in her early fifties with salon styled shoulder length light brown hair. She wore white ¾ length shorts and a hot pink singlet top that tightly hugged her breasts. Gold jewellery was her thing.

I stood from my chair as she approached. ‘Lovely to meet you, Kade…’ she said.

I accepted her hand shake. ‘Lovely to meet you… I now see where Sarah gets her looks from…’

Jackie waved a hand. ‘Oh aren’t you just the flatterer…’ Truth is, she lapped it up.

Casual chatting around the timber dining table occupied the next 30 minutes. It was refreshing because not once was any connection, or reference made to Jayden Evans.

I checked my watch then met Sarah’s gaze. ‘What time did you want to meet Mrs Evans..?’

Sarah’s focus shifted to her mum. ‘Um… we can go anytime you like.’

‘Sarah would’ve told you about a certain detective who thinks I am your missing neighbour, Jayden Evans…?’ I said as a question.

Jackie looked to Sarah, as if seeking permission to respond. She smiled, almost subserviently. ‘She did actually mention something about that…’ She said confession-like.

’So, what do you think…?’ I said directly. ’Do you think I’m Jayden Evans?’ Jackie dusted some small crumbs from the table. My question seemed to embarrass her. ‘Be honest. I won’t be offended. Everyone else around here speaks their mind.’

Jackie’s eyes flicked to Sarah. ‘I don’t know if you are Jayden or not. I can’t say.’

‘But you think I look like him, right…?’

‘I only knew him as a toddler…so…’ her voice tapered off.

‘But you can see a resemblance, right…?’ I jabbed a thumb at Sarah. ‘Sarah did. She picked me out from across a busy bar room.’

Jackie sat back in her chair and clasped her hands on her lap. She smiled and said, ‘do I think you are little Jayden, all grown up…?’ She shook her head. ’I doubt it. Do you look like the photos the police published…? You do a little. But Sarah told me you were born in WA and grew up there, so I have no reason to disbelieve that. And I think it is terrible what that police officer is doing to you.’

‘How well do you know the Evans family?’

‘We’ve been neighbours for over 30 years. So…’

I leaned my elbows on the table. ‘Did you have much to do with the family?’

Jackie pointed to my empty beer. ‘Get Kade a refill, Sez…’

I watched Sarah push herself from the table. ‘We knew Mandy & Graham quite well. We didn’t socialize with them, but we spoke often, usually in the street. We knew them well enough to be deeply saddened by Graham’s passing.’

Sarah placed a fresh beer on the table. ‘Cheers,’ I said to Sarah. ‘What work did they do?’ I asked Jackie.

‘Mandy was a lawyer, but she gave that up when Jayden was born, to raise him…Graham was a sports physiotherapist.’

‘And Jayden…did you see him much… or have much to do with him?’

Jackie shook her head. ‘Only from a distance…he played a lot in the front yard. Whenever I stopped outside Mandy’s for a chat on my way home, he was never far away.’ Jackie’s eyes lowered. ‘He was a nice boy. Very friendly. Very bubbly little fellow.’

‘What do you think happened to him twenty-five years ago?’

Jackie’s focus shifted to Sarah. Her mouth straightened. ‘That’s a difficult question. My heart hopes he is safe and well…’

‘But…’

She nodded once, conceding there is a ‘but’. ‘But…my head thinks he might have been taken…’ her shoulders slumped. She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to think about it, really.’

‘Reports I have read suggest the poor little fella may have been snatched by a… by a…’ I had to choose my words carefully. ‘By a sex offender,’ I said.

‘Sadly…that’s what we all think.’

‘Everyone except Detective Brent Dawes…’

‘Anyway,’ Sarah said with a timely interjection. ‘We best get going if we’re going to meet with Bec and Mitch for dinner afterwards.’

That was my cue to down what was left of my beer. We said our goodbyes to Jackie and left for a short stroll to the Evans residence, six doors up at number 14. While the afternoon light was fading, the temperature remained north of 30.