Promise

by Sarah Armstrong

  The woman shrugged.

  Charlie reached for another biscuit with those terrible purple nails.

  ‘Do you want a banana, Charlie?’ said Anna.

  Charlie nodded and took the small banana Anna offered her.

  Gabby frowned. ‘We don’t need your food.’

  ‘Oh, well . . . I’ve got too many bananas. She’s doing me a favour,’ Anna said. ‘Honest.’

  Charlie handed the peel to Anna.

  ‘Gabby, you and Charlie shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of violent temper and yelling and . . .’

  Gabby narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you were never yelled at.’

  ‘Not like that.’ Vehemence leaked into Anna’s voice and she tried to soften it by smiling.

  The woman shrugged again. ‘I was yelled at all the time when I was a kid. It’s no big deal.’

  Anna wondered if Gabby would be capable of biting her daughter.

  Gabby nudged her daughter with her hip. ‘You’re fine, aren’t you, Charlie? Harlan’s just a grump.’

  Charlie looked up at her mother, eyes wide, and kept chewing. The girl had a sheen of sweat on her forehead; she had too many clothes on for the warm morning.

  Gabby said, ‘Don’t come around like that again. And don’t call the cops. Everything is fine. Alright?’ She did that strange thing with her lips again. ‘I’m telling you for your own good. And anyway, it makes things worse.’

  Makes things worse. What did that mean? Worse for Charlie or for Gabby?

  ‘Is everything really okay?’ Anna spoke quietly. ‘There are people who can help you. Places you could go.’

  Gabby smiled but her voice was flinty. ‘Everything is fine. Maybe it’s you who needs help.’

  Anna felt her face flush. She turned and dropped the banana peel into the compost bin on the bench.

  Charlie tapped Anna’s hip. ‘Can I come over and play now?’ Anna could barely hear her. ‘Bring my castle?’ Her smile was stretched a little too wide.

  ‘Lay off it, Charlie,’ said her mother in a bored voice. ‘She’s got better things to do than play with you.’

  Anna crouched, trying to ignore Gabby. ‘I have to go to work now, unfortunately.’

  The girl gripped the last of the banana in her hand, and whispered, ‘Please.’

  Anna swallowed. ‘Maybe one day. If it’s okay with Mummy.’ Anna glanced up at Gabby.

  Gabby brushed crumbs from the front of Charlie’s tutu.

  ‘We’ll see. Let’s go, Chuckie.’ She gripped Charlie’s shoulder and steered her across the room and out the front door without looking back at Anna.

  •

  Her dad’s voice down the phone was matter of fact.

  ‘You did right. Just call FACS any time you’re concerned . . . I bet she’s known to them.’ He had the steady air of someone who’d dealt with this kind of thing before. ‘Just tell them what you saw. No interpretation.’

  ‘Alright. Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Don’t be nervous about calling them. They deal with this stuff all the time.’

  Was her reticence that plain? ‘No, no. I’ll call if something happens.’

  ‘Good on you, love.’

  ‘I thought maybe I’d come out to see you one weekend soon.’

  ‘I’d love that, but not this weekend because it’s Bill’s seventieth birthday party.’ His voice lifted. ‘Unless you want to come?’

  ‘Oh, that sounds like fun, but I’d rather have you to myself.’

  Bill Malcolm had worked with her dad at Orange police station, and when her dad retired, they set up the self-storage business together.

  ‘How’s Red?’

  ‘Oh, well . . .’ He coughed. ‘Trevor thinks he might have a tumour. He’s going to operate . . .’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Anna had given the kelpie to her dad ten years ago. ‘When’s the operation?’

  ‘In a couple of days.’

  ‘I’ll try and come out the weekend after this one.’

  ‘That would be great, love.’

  Chapter Six

  The bus lumbered up Bondi Road and Anna turned back for a last glimpse of the dark ocean, and the creamy, nearly full moon. She was a bit drunk and a bit weepy. One of the few memories she had of her mother was holding her mum’s hand and stepping into the ocean at Bondi one summer. Anna had no sense that anyone else had been there, although the beach must have been full of people. The waves had sucked and pulled at Anna’s legs, and she still remembered how completely safe she felt with her mother’s hand around hers.

  The bus passed a row of apartment blocks where most of the windows facing the road were lit up. Anna used to look at windows like these and feel a nostalgic pang for the cosy homes she imagined inside. Homes where mothers made dinner and tucked children into bed. Now, she looked at drawn curtains and wondered what they hid.

  It was only ten days since she’d stood in her dark kitchen watching Harlan and his mate unload the removal van, and only three nights since Dave called the police. Harlan hadn’t been around, or at least not visible, but she’d heard Charlie crying at night, that thin babyish cry that went on and on, with no indication that Gabby got up to comfort her. That woman was laying waste to something so precious: the love between a mother and daughter. Anna and her mother had no choice, it was taken from them.

  The bus pulled over and picked up a couple of teenage girls who sat in front of Anna in a cloud of vanilla perfume. Anna had met her boss, Monica, for dinner at Bondi, and over the main course, Mon recounted a long, funny story about losing her suitcase in Turkey. Then Anna had brought up Charlie. She wanted someone else’s perspective, a mother’s perspective, but after a few minutes, Monica somehow turned the conversation to the problem they were having getting a client to pay up. Mon had two kids, so Anna thought she’d be more concerned about Charlie. Perhaps it was too awful for a mother to contemplate.

  That morning, while Anna watered the garden, she’d realised Charlie was watching her through the fence, her small face pressed to a gap in the palings. The girl looked peaky, even her lips were pale, and there was an awful lassitude about her.

  Anna handed her the gardenia she’d intended to put on her desk at work. ‘This is for you. Have a smell.’

  The girl sniffed at it and gave Anna a thin smile, and watched as Anna walked inside. It was easy to remain ignorant about what went on in other people’s homes, and city life was designed to facilitate that ignorance. But now that Anna had seen inside Charlie’s home, she couldn’t look away.

  •

  She let herself in her front door but didn’t turn the lights on; Harlan’s ute was parked out the front. As she brushed her teeth, she heard a rhythmic crunching noise in the backyard.

  She walked through the dark house to the kitchen, and in the faint streetlight, saw Charlie in the next-door backyard, kicking at a loose paling in the fence. She seemed to be alone out there. Anna made herself go out the back door and down to the fence.

  ‘Charlie?’

  Charlie stopped kicking. ‘I thought you weren’t here.’ Her voice wavered.

  Anna squatted so she was level with the girl and whispered, ‘Has Mummy gone out?’

  ‘No.’ The girl’s right arm was bent and pressed to her chest.

  ‘Is someone home?’

  Charlie whispered, ‘They won’t let me back in and I want Bunny.’ She gave the fence a half-hearted kick.

  A light was on at the front of the house and the television burbled.

  ‘Are Mummy and Daddy inside?’

  Charlie sniffed and nodded.

  ‘What’s up with your arm? Did you hurt it?’

  She nodded. ‘It really hurts.’

  ‘What happened?’

  She was silent for a few moments. ‘I said and said for them to let me in. Bunny’s inside.’

  ‘Where does your arm hurt?’

  She pointed to her forearm, near the wrist.

  Anna couldn’t see
a thing. ‘I’m going to get a torch. It won’t be so dark out here, then.’

  As Anna stood up, Charlie said, ‘He’s not my father, anyway.’

  ‘Harlan’s not your dad?’ Of course. Why hadn’t Anna thought of that?

  Charlie shook her head, and pressed herself against the fence. Her smell was familiar to Anna now.

  ‘Where’s your dad?’

  ‘I don’t have one.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘Mummy doesn’t know who he is.’

  A car throttled up the street and for a heart-skipping moment, Anna was afraid it was Harlan. But he was already there. Just metres away, inside the house.

  Anna hurried back with a torch and her mobile phone. She passed the torch over the fence. Charlie shone it around her in an arc.

  ‘Let me have a look at your arm.’

  Anna directed the torch onto Charlie’s forearm where there was a mottled dark-red bruise the diameter of a small orange. A hot wave moved through her. Oh god. She was completely awake now, any trace of tipsiness gone.

  ‘That looks sore.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Can you open and close your hand, like this?’

  Charlie’s little starfish hand stretched and curled, then she dropped the arm by her side.

  ‘How did it happen?’ Anna had an ear out for any sound of Gabby or Harlan coming down the hallway.

  Charlie shone the torch around, playing it over the back of the house and then up and down the steps.

  ‘Down there,’ she said.

  ‘You hurt it on the steps?’

  Charlie gave a tiny nod.

  Anna rested her forehead against the fence for a moment. Had the girl been pushed down the stairs? Should Anna call the police again?

  She imagined a cop like her dad turning up. Calm, kind and radiating authority. But Anna was home alone. If she called the police she’d have to go and stay with someone, like her friend Emily. Dave’s kids were at his place. And what might Harlan do to her house while she was away?

  ‘How long have you been out here?’ she asked.

  ‘Long time.’

  What if they intended to leave the girl out here all night? Surely FACS would come for a child who was locked outside at eleven o’clock?

  ‘If Nella knocks on the door, I’m not allowed to answer,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Who’s Nella?’

  ‘In the caravan next door.’

  ‘Did you live in a caravan?’

  Charlie nodded. ‘I wasn’t allowed to answer but Nella talked to me under the door.’

  Maybe Nella had called FACS, too.

  ‘I might phone someone to come and talk to your mum and him about not putting you outside the house.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Someone who helps kids.’

  Charlie gripped the torch. ‘No, no, no. I got in so much trouble when the polices came.’

  ‘You got in trouble?’ Anna’s gut curled. ‘What kind of trouble?’

  ‘It was my fault.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault. If he hurts you, it’s never your fault.’

  ‘Don’t call them!’

  ‘Okay. I won’t call the police.’ Anna pulled her phone from her pocket. ‘I need to take a photo of your arm, Charlie. Hold still.’

  She took a quick shot but it was too dark. ‘Let me shine the torch on your arm.’ She took a second photo. ‘I want to take a photo of your leg.’

  Charlie obediently turned so Anna could shine the torch on the bite mark. The two semi-circle bruises were green now. As she snapped the photo, she heard someone walking along the hallway inside Charlie’s house. The back door opened and light flooded onto the grass. Harlan stood in the doorway.

  ‘Where the fuck are you, Charlie? I told you to stay on the steps!’

  Charlie dropped the torch into the grass as Anna crouched behind the fence. She could see Harlan through the fence palings; he must be able to see her. And he must see the torch shining across the lawn.

  ‘Get in here! Now!’

  The girl climbed the steps, her head down. She didn’t glance back at Anna. He grabbed her arm and dragged her inside. The door slammed behind them.

  The little girl was trapped in that house now. Like all children were trapped in their families until they were old enough to leave of their own free will. Did Charlie look out and imagine another life? Anna stood up, feeling sick. There was no way she was going to climb over and retrieve her torch. It would shine all night until its battery died.

  Inside, she texted the two photos to Dave. Look, this is the latest next door. I’m about to call FACS again. And he’s the stepfather, not father.

  •

  She woke to a car door slamming and men’s voices. From the window she watched two policemen walking up the path next door. FACS must have called them. Shit. Would Charlie be in trouble? Or Anna? The cops knocked loudly on the door and she heard Gabby’s voice. Would the police actually do something this time, once they saw Charlie’s arm? Would they take her?

  Anna moved through the house to check that her front and back doors were locked, and that all the windows were shut. She climbed back into bed, and a text pinged from Dave.

  Shit. Do you want to come here?

  She couldn’t bear the thought that she was running away from Harlan, tail between her legs, while Charlie had no choice but to stay there.

  I’ll stay put. Sleep at yours tomorrow, though?

  Of course. Kids leave 3ish.

  While she waited to see what the cops did, she used her phone to google When does FACS take children away? She found herself reading about a three-year-old boy in Newcastle whose mother was charged with his murder. The little boy’s neighbours and day carers all made reports to FACS but the local office didn’t remove him and didn’t have enough staff to keep checking on him. Anna shut her laptop and conjured a picture of Charlie asleep in her bed, Bunny tucked up beside her.

  The cops left half an hour later. Without Charlie.

  Chapter Seven

  She woke late. 10 am. Harlan’s ute was gone, thank god. She sent Dave a text and asked him to call when his kids had gone home.

  Sure, he texted back. How’s it there this morning?

  All quiet. She scrolled through the photos on her phone. The bruise on Charlie’s arm looked no less awful.

  As she pulled eggs and bacon from the fridge, she heard a rattle from the backyard. Charlie was at the fence, fiddling with a loose paling. She tossed Anna’s torch over into the camellia bush, her injured arm held awkwardly against her body.

  Then Anna saw Harlan sitting on the back step smoking a cigarette and talking on his phone. Oh shit. Gabby must have taken the ute. Charlie wandered around to the front yard, out of Anna’s sight.

  Anna ate her fry-up at the kitchen table with a pot of strong tea and the Saturday paper. Her dad phoned while she was reading the real-estate section, looking at too-expensive garden flats for sale in Rosebery.

  ‘Hey, Annie.’ He sounded very chipper.

  ‘Hi, Dad.’ She closed the paper.

  ‘Luke called me last night. Cecily’s pregnant again!’

  She felt a pang at how delighted he sounded. ‘Oh, wow. Was that planned?’ Anna’s brother already had two girls, the youngest only nine months old.

  ‘Oh, well, they don’t tell me that kind of thing.’

  Anna had met her eldest niece once, when Luke and his English wife came over for Christmas two years ago.

  She lowered her voice. ‘I called FACS again about the girl next door.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘She was locked outside at eleven o’clock at night.’

  ‘Poor mite. Well, you’re doing the right thing, love.’

  ‘And I guess FACS called the cops because they turned up after midnight. You know, Dad, I’m afraid he’s going to kill her.’ Her scalp prickled. ‘I read about a little boy in Newcastle who died, and his neighbours were worried and had reported him over and over . . . He w
as killed by his mother.’

  ‘What’s this guy next door’s name?’

  ‘Harlan Something.’

  ‘Do you want me to come? I could just get in the car and come and stay with you for a while. I don’t like you being next door to this guy.’

  ‘Oh, I think he only picks on little people.’

  Her dad wouldn’t be able to stand up to Harlan. Not these days.

  ‘It’s okay, Dad.’

  She wouldn’t tell him she’d taken to sleeping with all the windows locked and the landline phone by the bed. If she called triple zero from the landline, they’d know where she was without her even saying a word.

  He sighed. ‘Well, you let me know if you want me to come. And keep calling FACS and the police. You’re the little girl’s advocate at the moment.’

  ‘But I’ve called them twice and the cops have come twice. What’s it going to take for FACS to come and check on her? Dave said he knows of kids who haven’t been visited by FACS after seventeen reports.’

  He was silent, then said, ‘Kids can be remarkably resilient. They’re survivors.’

  Is that what he thought Anna and Luke were? Survivors?

  ‘Yeah. Well, surviving’s one thing. But isn’t flourishing the aim?’

  His voice was heavy. ‘Yes.’

  Did he think Anna had flourished? She was nearly forty with no husband, no babies, renting what he thought was a crappy old house.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I thought I might go over to see Luke and Cecily. Have a white Christmas. I’ll pay for your airfare, too, if you’ll come with me. The business is doing well at the moment.’

  ‘Oh, Dad, that’s kind of you. But that’s a lot of money. And I’ve only got two weeks off at Christmas.’

  ‘I want you to come, Annie.’

  ‘Let me think about it.’

  She wondered how Luke would feel about both of them landing on him at the same time. She’d email him.

  ‘You save your money for a house deposit,’ he said.

  After they hung up, Anna made a fresh pot of tea and looked next door. The place was quiet. Perhaps they’d gone out. She’d drive over the mountains to her dad’s first thing next Saturday. They could talk about his London idea and drive up to Mount Canobolas, like they used to. Her dad’s calm and steady presence was exactly what she needed.