“Can we do it now?”
Danika looks at the mess of shopping on the counter. She puts the peas and hash browns in the freezer. The rest can wait. “Sure.”
There is indeed an email for the Matildas, although it’s fairly generic, like it goes to some faceless admin person. Danika opens a new email. “What do you want to say?”
Cami thinks. “Dear Matildas, my name is Camille Henshall and I am eight years old. I play soccer, and my coach says I’m pretty good. One day, when I’m old enough, I want to play for the Matildas. I’m best in midfield, and I can run really fast. My favourite players are?—”
“Slow down, I can’t keep up.” Danika backspaces out a typo.
“Kyra Cooney-Cross and Katrina Gorry,” Cami continues without missing a beat. “I want to score goals like Kyra, and Katrina has kids, so I hope you’ll pass my message on to her. See, I just found out I have a sister. She’s the same age as me. We have the same daddy. We were friends, but Bella is sad now because our daddy is dead, and she won’t speak to me.”
Danika types as fast as she can to catch Cami’s words.
“Bella plays soccer too. She likes to play midfield. Her favourite player is Mary Fowler. I was thinking if I sent her something really good for Christmas, something from the Matildas, maybe even from Mary, then Bella might talk to me again.”
Cami’s voice wobbles. “I miss her so much. Please can you help? Love, Camille Henshall, but you can call me Cami.” She waits impatiently while Danika edits the message, then reads it back to her.
Satisfied, Cami bites her lip. “Do you think they’ll answer?”
“I don’t know, sweetie. They must get a lot of requests from people. But we can hope.”
“They’ll reply.” Eight-year-old confidence shines like a beacon.
The Matildas reply. Three days before Christmas, an express post bag comes, addressed to Cami.
Cami’s eyes grow wide when Danika tells her, and she bounces into the kitchen. “Let’s open it now.”
There are some signed photos, a drink bottle, and best of all, a child-size Matildas shirt. It’s number eleven, Mary Fowler’s number.
Cami’s eyes go like saucers. “She signed it,” she whispers and touches the black lines with her finger.
There’s a second shirt, too, number twenty-three—Kyra Cooney-Cross’s, although that one’s not signed.
Cami’s mouth opens and closes like a goldfish.
Danika spreads the contents on the kitchen counter. “There’s a note here, too.” She unfolds it and reads, “Dear Cami, we loved your email, and if we can help in some small way to reunitetwo soccer-loving sisters, then we are happy to help. Mary is currently in Australia, so could sign the shirt for Bella. Good luck, Cami, and keep enjoying soccer. We’ll look out for you in the future. Marci, and everyone at Matildas HQ.”
“Wow.” Cami plonks on the floor as if her legs have given out. “I’m going to work extra hard at soccer now.” She bounces back up. “Bella will love this. Can we send it now so she might get it?”
There’s no way it will arrive by Christmas. Danika bites her lip. She promised Kim she wouldn’t call, but she said nothing about not leaving a present for Bella by the front door. “I have a better idea. We’ll drive over and leave the parcel for them, and then we’ll have fish and chips on St Kilda Pier.”
The joy on Cami’s face is worth the disruption to her day. Danika finds a shoebox, and Cami packs the signed shirt and two of the photos into it. She writes,To Bella, happy Christmas, love Cami xoxon a card, and they include that too.
Cami insists on wrapping it herself. Even though the resultant parcel is untidy, Danika pronounces it perfect.
They reach Kim and Bella’s door unseen and put the parcel on the step.
“What if someone takes it?” Cami whispers.
“I’ll text Kim once we’ve gone and ask her to check the step.” She ruffles the top of Cami’s hair. “We’ve got fish and chips to find.”
Cami ducks away and jumps her way down the stairs.
They’re sitting at the end of St Kilda Pier fending off the seagulls who are trying to steal their chips when Danika’s phone chirps with a text.
Parcel received, thank you. Bella will open it on Xmas day.
She shows Cami the message. Cami nods and eats a bit of fish. “She’ll call me.”
