by Nicole Trope
I gave her chance after chance to recognise me, but she still didn’t even register who I was.
I have been put so thoroughly out of her mind, it’s like I never even existed.
I need her to understand this pain, to experience this pain of loss and despair.
That will be justice and revenge, and then maybe, maybe it will be enough and the black sludge will stop rising and I will be able to move away and start over.
Maybe.
33
Rachel and Ben
By the time he catches up to her she is nearly at the park. She is puffing in the cold wind as is he.
‘Did you call them?’ she asks him, knowing that he will have done it, wondering how on earth she will ever explain this all to him, hoping that she is not too late, that they are not too late. She has some idea of what he’s capable of, but she is not sure how far he would go. Her father was beaten to death. Is Kevin the one who killed him? Is that possible? But of course it’s possible. She had known all those years ago that he would grow up just like her father. He was already just like her father. The guilt over telling her mother to leave him behind has pricked at her flesh all these years but it has never been sharp enough for her to reach out to him. She hated him. She knows she hated him but he was still a child himself. And he must be so filled with fury and anger at her. Even as her fear for her daughter churns her stomach, there is a small spark of understanding about that anger. She would have felt it herself.
I had to tell. I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore, Mum, I had to tell. I should have told sooner.
‘I called them,’ he pants. ‘They’re coming, but, Rachel, we should wait, we can’t confront him on our own. We don’t know anything about him.’
He is surprised that she stops running and looks at him. ‘I know what he’s like, Ben, and I’ve known all my life. And if he is anything like the father my mother and I spent our whole lives running from, then Beth isn’t safe.’
He nods, understanding he can’t stop her, and together they jog the last few hundred metres to the entrance of the park.
The park is a beautiful space during the day, surrounded by a metal fence with a safety gate to keep children securely inside. In the middle there is a brand-new play area for children with sprung matting and a complicated rope climbing frame that Rachel has seen older children enjoying. There are three slides for different-aged children and enough swings so that a kid never has to wait too long for a chance. The park, with its man-made lake in the middle that will be filled with ducks in summer, charmed Rachel when she first saw it. She could see herself bringing her daughter down on a spring day and one day maybe pushing a pram with a baby while Beth was at school.
It is a different place at night. The cold wind whistles through tiny trees, and the only other sound is the creak of the chains on the swings. Lights illuminate small patches of the park, creating shadows that disappear into dark unlit areas where anything and anyone could be hiding.
Rachel releases the catch to the safety gate, the metal freezing against her hands, and Ben follows her into the space, walking into the play area.
‘When did you last see him?’ Ben whispers.
‘Not since I was seven,’ she replies. ‘He was violent then.’
‘I won’t let him hurt her,’ says Ben. ‘I won’t let him hurt you.’ He glances at Rachel as they walk, making sure they step quietly, wanting to maintain some small element of surprise. He sees her swipe at her cheek, vanishing her tears. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ he says again and she nods. Everything he has been thinking, every question he has formulated about his wife and her secrets, disappears from his mind. The only thing that matters is keeping her safe and keeping their daughter safe. It occurs to him that he has been so worried about not having a job and paying the mortgage that he has forgotten that this is his most important job. This is what makes him a man and a father: the ability to keep his family safe.
Together they come around the back of the public toilets and then stop, hidden from view but able to see the play area.
Large lights around the play area cast everything in an eerie glow.
Ben starts to move forward but Rachel grabs him. ‘Wait, just wait,’ she whispers.
Beth is on a swing that moves back and forth in the wind.
As Rachel and Ben watch, her head lolls backwards.
34
Little Bird
Even though Mummy is bleeding and hurting, she is very quick when she packs up some things.
‘Take a backpack, just a backpack with your clothes and a toothbrush. Don’t take anything else,’ Mummy whispers.
‘But what about my dollies?’
‘No, Little Bird, we can’t take them all. Take one or two but you need clothes. I don’t have much money. You have to carry your backpack yourself.’
‘Where are we going to run to?’ I ask her and she looks at me. There is dried blood on her face and she can’t stand up straight. ‘Don’t you worry about that. We’ll be fine. I’ll make sure we’re fine.’ Mummy sounds like her brain is working now but I don’t know if it really is. Her eyes look worried and sad.
I go into my room, pack up my clothes and get my toothbrush, and I take my coat even though it’s hot now because one day it will be cold and I like my coat. I look at all my dollies lined up neatly on the windowsill and then I touch each one. ‘I’m sorry I can’t take you,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry I can’t take you. I’m sorry I can’t take you,’ and then I am crying and there is stuff running from my nose because I love all my dollies and I have to leave most of them behind. But I love Mummy more and we have to run away. I take the dolly who is a mermaid – even though her head is only glued back on and she looks strange – and I also take the one who is a princess, and I shove them deep into my backpack.
We creep quietly, quietly through the house. When we go past the kitchen I look inside and Daddy is still lying on the floor. He is still, still.
‘Is Daddy dead?’ I ask Mummy but she doesn’t answer me.
We creep on tippy-toes out to Mummy’s car. It is warm, warm even though it’s late in the night. I look up at the big black sky and I can see a million billion stars all around. The moon is a banana and I lift my hand to touch it but I’m too small. I wish I could take the stars with me so I can always see them twinkling, and I want to ask Mummy if there will be stars where we are going but I don’t. I don’t think Mummy knows where we are going.
Mummy helps me get into the car and puts on my seatbelt.
Her whole face is ugly, ugly and I wish I could wipe it for her and make her better.
‘Maybe I should tell Peg?’ she says. ‘I should go and tell her and then they can call an ambulance and the police.’
I get scared when she says that. I dropped the weight on his head. I think that will make the police very angry. The police put bad people in jail and I think that dropping a weight on someone’s head must be very bad. They will put me in jail. I don’t want to go to jail and leave Mummy.
‘Don’t tell anyone, Mummy,’ I say. ‘Let’s just go. This can be our little secret.’
‘Our little secret,’ she says and she nods but then she starts crying.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she says but I don’t think she is saying it to me. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says over and over again as she reverses out of the driveway and into the street.
She sounds sad and she sounds scared and I know that I have to keep her safe. I kept her safe from Daddy but I have to keep her safe from everything. It is time for me to grow up now. I sit up straight in my car seat and I feel I am getting taller and taller. Maybe I will get as big as Kevin and then I can really keep Mummy safe forever and ever.
It is very dark and very quiet. I don’t see any other cars while we drive. Mummy doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even turn on the radio and I listen to her breath going in and out and I listen to the hum sound the car makes.
The more we drive the less I am burning insi
de and outside even though my arms are still sore. When all the burning stops, I start to feel tired and I get very scared because I hurt Daddy, and Mr Stanley says you’re not supposed to hurt other people. I feel bad for hurting Daddy and I feel sad as I was his Little Bird and he used to let me sit on his lap and ride high on his shoulders. And then I feel bad for Kevin and I want to tell Mummy that we have to go back and get him but then I don’t want her to get him either because he tried to drown me in the water.
I start to think about Daddy and my heart goes boom, boom, boom in my chest and it feels like I can’t get enough air inside me. I am scared of what will happen if I hurt Daddy so much that he is dead. I am scared of what will happen if he isn’t dead. If he isn’t dead, he will be angry, angry and he will find me and Mummy and give us both a good smack.
‘Is Daddy dead? If he’s not dead, he’s going to be angry, Mummy.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you – I won’t,’ she says.
I lean forward in my seat and I can see she is leaning over her steering wheel like it’s hard to see because one of her eyes is almost closed.
‘But Daddy will hurt me,’ I say. ‘He’ll hurt me like he hurt my dolly.’ I start to cry because I am so scared that Daddy will wake up and come to find me and break my head off.
‘Don’t,’ she says. ‘Stop crying, he can’t hurt you, he won’t hurt you. I won’t let him hurt you, but you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about what happened, that you won’t ever tell.’ She turns around in her seat and looks at me with her hurting face. ‘Promise me, you have to promise me that you will never tell anyone.’
Inside me the butterflies are flying around and around and I feel like they want to come out of my mouth because I am so scared about Daddy waking up and coming to break my head off.
‘I’ll never tell, I promise,’ I say. ‘I’ll never tell anyone about Daddy and about what happened. It will be our little secret forever and ever.’
‘Forever and ever,’ she says and her voice is sad, sad.
The butterflies stop flapping their wings and then I am sad too. I loved Daddy. I think I loved Daddy and now I will never see him again.
I am only seven years old but I feel like I am an old lady. I want to close my eyes and sleep but I need to watch Mummy. I need to keep Mummy safe.
We drive and drive and drive and we don’t talk about leaving Kevin or about me dropping the weight on Daddy. We don’t talk about anything. Even though I am trying to stay awake my eyes close because they are burning and I listen to the hum sound the car makes.
When I wake up the sun is high in the bright blue sky and Mummy is still driving. The moon and the stars are all gone and everything is different. The sun is big and burning and my eyes are scratchy. My mouth is very dry.
‘I’m thirsty, Mummy,’ I say.
We stop at a petrol station and Mummy fills up the car and then she gives me some money to pay the man standing inside because she can’t let anyone see her. Her face is scary-looking. One eye is closed and her cheeks are puffed up and the skin is blue with hurting flowers. When Mummy is filling up the car, she holds her side because that’s where Daddy was kicking her.
‘In there,’ she says as she hands me the money. ‘Pay him and tell him tank number four. And get me a cold drink, Little Bird,’ she says.
I take the money and I look at her.
‘Don’t call me, Little Bird,’ I say, ‘not again, not ever. I am not Little Bird anymore.’
Mummy nods her head. ‘Not again, not ever, I promise, Rachel.’
35
Veronica
Veronica watches her daughter’s tentative steps towards the store at the petrol station. The little girl clutches the fifty dollar note tightly in her little hand, looking left and right. A small child in pink patterned pyjamas who looks too young to be going into the store alone.
Every muscle in Veronica’s body is screaming. Her skin is on fire. Her body holds the result of all his anger, all his pain, all his fear. It cannot hold any more.
She could not, cannot, save him or change him. Her love was not enough. She is not enough.
In the car she keeps her head down, not wanting to meet the eyes of anyone else, not wanting to invite questions. She has enough of those for herself.
How has she let it get to this? How has she let this happen to her life? And how on earth will she take care of this child, this damaged little girl who has seen too much?
She dabs a tissue to her split lip where the blood has dried and congealed. She is afraid to look in the mirror. She cannot allow herself to see what he’s done.
A sob escapes her but not because of the physical pain. She is used to that. This is for a deeper pain. She knows, as the salt of her tears slips into the cuts on her face, that the sting they create is for the pain of real loss.
This is the pain of the loss of a child, the loss of her little boy who is nearly a man, the loss of who he could have been and the fear for who he will become now.
How can she leave him behind? How can she just walk away?
She can’t. She can’t leave him.
She sits up straighter in her seat, her hands determinedly on the steering wheel.
She will go back, she decides; she will go back and wait for him. She will accept the consequences, however terrible they may be, and then they will leave together – all three of them.
Rachel walks out of the store, her tongue pointed out of her mouth as she concentrates on carefully carrying the drinks she is holding and not dropping the change crumpled in her hand.
Her daughter who, at seven, is too young to have suffered what she has suffered. She will not allow her to suffer anymore. She cannot allow it and if she goes back, he may stop them. He has stopped her before.
Rachel will become a target for him. He has been waiting until she was seven and now she is seven.
She imagines a bruise on her child’s pretty face, blooming on her cheek and half closing one green eye.
And in her seat, she slumps over, rests her head on the steering wheel.
They cannot go back. She cannot go back. She has to protect her daughter the way she never managed to protect her son.
And the only way she can do that is to run, to run from the man who hurts and the boy who is learning to hurt.
She has no choice.
They have to run.
36
Kevin
The feel of her hand in mine was unexpected. I have never held a child’s hand before.
I almost called her Little Bird. Almost.
She looks just like her mother did as a child but she doesn’t have Rachel’s hesitancy. She didn’t scream when I put my hand over her mouth. She just opened her eyes and looked at me.
‘Want to go somewhere exciting?’ I asked and she nodded quickly.
She should be more afraid of strangers but I’m not really a stranger. I’m the nice next-door neighbour with a little boy named Jerome.
‘Can my mummy and daddy come?’ she asked.
‘No, because they’re not here. They went to see your grandmother in hospital.’
‘Nana is very sick,’ she told me. ‘She has bad stuff inside her.’
I nodded, agreeing with her. It was strange to hear her call my mother ‘Nana’, strange to think that my mother is a grandmother, and this thought brought with it a heavy sadness. I will never be a father. She will never be a grandmother to my child. I shook it off quickly. I was in the house, in her bedroom, because of everything that had been taken from me. I was there to take something.
‘Did they ask you to babysit me?’
‘No, your other grandmother is here.’ I wasn’t sure who the older woman, sleeping on the couch under a thick blanket, was. I guessed.
‘Granny Audrey always gives me treats when she babysits me.’
‘Yes, but she’s sleeping now. Get dressed quickly. We don’t want to wake her. If we wake her, it will ruin the surprise.’
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She immediately jumped out of her bed and shed her pyjamas. I found myself turning away from her, giving her a little privacy.
‘What’s the surprise?’
‘I’ll tell you when we’re outside. Get your coat, and do you have a hat? It’s cold outside.’
She just listened, doing everything I told her to do. Perhaps because I woke her up and she thought she was dreaming.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked. ‘Is it to see the fairies?’ Her green eyes were round with the thrill of an adventure.
‘Definitely to see the fairies.’
I left the doll in the bed, the doll my sister named Polly Purple for her purple hair. I made sure it was lying exactly in the middle. Beth didn’t see me do it. She was jumping up and down, desperate to get to the fairies.
It was as easy to get into the house this time as it was that first time. I didn’t just learn to keep my head down in prison. I learned a few other things as well, like how to move a sliding glass door so the catch gives way. It would have taken more than just one lock to keep me out. I was worried about the alarm being on, but as I held my breath and waited, there was only silence. Alarms only work if you turn them on.
‘We have to be very quiet,’ I whispered to her. ‘If you wake your granny, you won’t be able to see the fairies.’
‘I’ll be quiet like a mouse,’ she whispered back.
We crept out of the house together.
For three nights now, I have parked my car a street away and used a pile of building materials on the plot of the house next door for cover. I have waited in the cold. I have been patient. Tonight, I was waiting for them all to be asleep, and then I was going to make my move. I saw the police arrive and I knew what they would be telling her. I realised that I left the buff-coloured folders strewn around the office. It wouldn’t have taken the police long to put two and two together. It took them a couple of weeks but there they were, looking serious as they delivered their news.
