Promise

by Sarah Armstrong

  •

  Late afternoon, Anna sat at the kitchen table sketching a grasshopper she’d found dead on the back step. As she sharpened her pencil, she heard shouting next door. Her heart flared. No. Not more.

  She stood, pencil in her hand, and through the window saw Harlan bending over Charlie by the clothesline. He gripped Charlie’s t-shirt with one hand and shouted, ‘That’s it! I’ve fuckin’ had it with you!’

  His other hand was lifted, the fist clenched. Charlie’s face screwed up as if anticipating a blow. Anna took one step towards the door and then back to find her phone. The cops. She swiped her phone as Charlie screamed.

  Harlan held her upside-down by the ankles, and shook her violently. Charlie’s head wobbled about and her arms flailed in the air.

  ‘Stop wriggling or I’ll fuckin’ drop you!’

  Anna flung open the door and shouted, ‘Stop! Stop! Stop!’

  Her voice was not loud enough. She found herself at the fence.

  ‘Stop! Stop!’ It was all she could say.

  He turned to face Anna, Charlie still dangling from his hands. The girl twisted and he dropped her to the ground. She landed on her hands and scrabbled away on all fours, over the grass towards Anna, and burrowed in under some bushes by the fence. Harlan stared at Anna, his face calm. He adjusted the neck of his white t-shirt before slowly crossing to the fence.

  He placed one hand on the fence and stared at her with a small smile. He’d slicked his hair back and she could see the track left by each tooth of the comb. A mower started up nearby and some kids shouted. Ordinary suburban sounds.

  His lips barely moved as he spoke. ‘You and your boyfriend. You step very carefully.’

  From the corner of her eye, Anna saw Charlie crawl along the fenceline, then through a gap in the palings and into Anna’s backyard, dragging her toy bunny with her.

  He shook his head slowly. ‘You have no fuckin’ idea who you are dealing with here.’ He narrowed his eyes and spoke slowly, ‘You call the cops on me one more time, love . . . and you will be really fuckin’ sorry.’

  There was only the rickety fence between them. If he looked to his right he’d see Charlie’s bright pink singlet where she crouched under the camellia bush.

  Saliva flooded Anna’s mouth. She kept her eyes on him. She would not glance over at the girl.

  Don’t move, Charlie. He was so close she could smell his aftershave. He could easily climb over the fence. Would anyone come if she screamed?

  This is how murders happen, she thought. A person felt safe, invincible even, and then – in a moment – they were not safe. They were dying.

  He tilted his head to one side. ‘Did you hear me? Anna.’

  The deliberate way he said Anna was more frightening than anything else he’d said.

  He slammed his fist against the fence and she staggered back. Her throat was thick but she forced herself to speak.

  ‘I heard you.’

  Her legs were heavy. If he did climb over the fence, she wouldn’t be able to run.

  He kicked away a paling on the ground and walked back inside, leaving the door wide open. She waited, listening for the sound of him coming back, but could only hear her heart banging in her ears and the tinny buzz of the mower a few doors down. She wouldn’t look at Charlie until she felt sure Harlan wasn’t about to walk back out. A door banged in the front of the house and music blared on.

  Anna squatted in front of the camellia, and the ground seemed to rock beneath her.

  ‘He’s gone, Charlie,’ she whispered. ‘Quick. Let’s go inside my house.’

  The girl’s knees were bent and pulled in close to her body, her injured arm held awkwardly near her neck. She trembled as she scanned the garden behind Anna.

  Anna reached out her hand. ‘Come here.’ She had to get them inside and lock the doors. Then she saw that Charlie’s shorts were dark. The girl had wet herself.

  ‘Come inside. We’ll go quick so he doesn’t see us.’

  She knew, though, that they’d be in full view of Harlan’s back door as they went up the steps. She reached for Charlie’s hand but the girl shrank away and shook her head.

  ‘He’s inside your house now. Come with me. We’ll go into my house and lock the door.’

  Finally, Charlie crawled out. The girl’s hand in Anna’s was damp and grainy with dirt. She scuttled beside Anna, then up the stairs, with a wide-legged gait. Anna’s hands shook as she locked the kitchen doors behind her and led Charlie through to the bathroom.

  She should call the police. But what if the police left the girl there again? And what would happen to Charlie after the cops left? What would happen to Anna?

  No, she’d call FACS and impress on them how violent he was and that he was just metres away, with no idea that she had Charlie in her house. Except that FACS might call the cops again. Thoughts ricocheted around her head. Meanwhile, Charlie stood motionless on the bath mat, dirt and leaves stuck to her legs. Anna peeled the girl’s wet shorts down and saw that she was wearing a nappy. It was heavy with urine and reeked. She dropped it into the bin.

  ‘Do you want to have a little bath to wash off the wee?’ She turned on the taps; she would call FACS while the girl bathed.

  The girl looked up at the ceiling. ‘What’s that noise?’

  Anna froze. ‘What noise?’ All she could hear was water gushing into the bath. What if it was Harlan? Any strength in her limbs drained away. She remembered being a child in bed, paralysed white-hot by a noise outside her window.

  ‘It’s a bok, bok noise,’ Charlie whispered.

  Anna turned off the taps and forced herself to open the bathroom door and stick her head out. There was nothing, only the mower and kids squealing down the road. Then the roof pinged.

  ‘That! What’s that?’ Charlie’s face was tight.

  ‘It’s the roof creaking in the heat. It’s okay. It’s not him. It does that all the time.’

  She turned the taps back on and helped Charlie into the bath. ‘Here’s a face washer. I’m just going to make a phone call, okay?’ She had to talk to FACS before Harlan figured out where Charlie was.

  Charlie’s eyes filled with tears and she squeezed the washer in her hands. ‘I saw you at the door.’

  ‘You mean when I came to your front door the other night?’

  Charlie nodded.

  ‘Yes. I saw you, too. You waved at me.’

  Charlie whispered, ‘He flushed the toilet.’

  ‘He flushed the toilet? What do you mean?’ She wanted to call FACS, not talk about toilets.

  ‘That night you came over he did the flush.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Charlie didn’t reply.

  ‘Charlie? What happened?’ It was something terrible, she knew.

  ‘I nearly drownded.’

  ‘How did you nearly drown?’

  The girl swallowed and looked up at Anna with her too-direct gaze. Charlie placed a hand on top of her head, and as she lifted it off, a few strands of hair stuck to her wet hand. ‘When he put my head in the toilet.’

  Anna felt a rush in her body, as if everything was dilating. ‘Harlan put your head down the toilet?’

  She gave a small nod. ‘And did the flush.’ Her voice was very quiet. ‘The water was down my throat and nose and . . .’ she whispered, ‘. . . he wouldn’t let me out.’

  Her eyes moved across Anna’s face, as if trying to read her response. Anna gripped the edge of the bath and closed her eyes.

  ‘Shit,’ she said. The water still gushed into the bath, the sound filling the room until it roared in her ears.

  •

  She made the phone call just outside the bathroom door so she could keep an eye on Charlie.

  ‘Hello, my name is Anna Pierce. I’ve called before. I’ve called twice before about the child next door.’ Her voice shook. ‘She’s five, her name is Charlie Seybold and she lives at 72 Melford St, Mascot. She just told me that her stepfather stuck her head down the to
ilet and flushed it. That happened on the first night I called you. And I just saw her stepfather hold her by the feet and shake her and he threatened me because I called the police the other night, and because I think you called the police last night. He’s . . . he’s very frightening.’

  ‘Okay. Where’s the child now, Anna?’ The woman was trying to calm her down.

  ‘I have her here in my house. She crawled through the fence into my backyard.’

  ‘What time did she do that?’

  ‘Oh. Ten minutes ago, if that.’ Anna checked the time on her phone. ‘Let’s say four thirty.’

  ‘Where’s the mother?’

  ‘Not at home, I don’t think.’ She stepped inside the bathroom. ‘Is Mummy at home, Charlie?’

  Charlie shook her head.

  ‘Do you know where she is?’

  Charlie shook her head again. She lay the washer neatly over her thighs.

  Anna said, ‘She doesn’t know where the mother is. And she has an injured arm. There’s a bruise on it and she told me that it happened because she was naughty.’

  ‘Do you have a phone number for the mother?’

  ‘No.’

  The woman typed something into a computer. ‘What were the words she used to describe the stepfather putting her head down the toilet?’

  ‘That . . . he put her head in the toilet and flushed it and wouldn’t let her out and the water went in her nose and she couldn’t breathe.’

  ‘And what date do you believe that happened?’

  ‘First of December. I made a report that night about the shouting and banging and crying. I didn’t know about the toilet.’

  The woman asked Anna to describe Harlan holding Charlie by the feet and Anna stumbled over the words, her mouth dry. She had really believed that he might drop Charlie on her head.

  ‘Okay, thank you,’ said the woman. ‘I encourage you to call the police about the threat that your neighbour made to you.’

  ‘But last time I called them . . . she said she got in trouble.’ Anna took a breath. ‘Look, are you going to come here now? The stepfather is right next door and could turn up any moment. He shoved her head down a toilet! And somebody bit her. I called you about the bite before. What are you going to do?’ She heard her voice getting shrill. ‘Come and get her. Please. Please.’

  ‘I understand that this is distressing. And you absolutely did the right thing in calling. Your report will be fed through to the local office straightaway. But if you need an immediate response, you should call the police.’

  ‘If I do that, will they keep her safe?’

  ‘I can’t say what the police will do or how soon they’ll attend.’

  Anna wanted to throw the phone down the hall. ‘Aren’t you meant to be looking after her?’ She was shouting now. ‘Isn’t that your . . . whole . . . brief? What will it take for someone to come and take care of this child? Does she have to die for you to do something?’

  She hung up and tossed the phone onto the dining table.

  In the bath, Charlie sat quietly, watching Anna with big eyes. Oh god, the girl had just heard Anna talk about her dying. Anna knelt on the tiles beside the bath and turned the water off. The bruise on Charlie’s arm looked very sore, it was darker and bigger than last night.

  No one out there was taking responsibility for this child. Not a single bloody person. Not those polite women on the end of the phone, not the police officers who left Charlie there last night. Not the neighbours who must have heard the screams too. Everyone just assumed that someone else would take care of it. Everyone looked the other way.

  Anna was suddenly exhausted. Perhaps it had been hubris to think she could step in and alter the path Charlie was heading down, perhaps this exhaustion was a sign that she was pushing too hard, trying to push shit uphill. She’d probably just made things much worse for Charlie.

  Charlie’s voice was tiny. ‘Do I have to go home now?’

  The girl was completely at Anna’s mercy. Anna took a shaky breath and tried to smile. ‘When Mummy gets back, I’ll take you home.’

  Anna traced the rough edge of the tiles on the side of the bath. She had to know. ‘Was Mummy there when Harlan put your head in the toilet?’

  Charlie didn’t move for a moment, then she gave a small nod.

  In that quiet bathroom, Anna was filled with a terrible, helpless dread that she would be sending Charlie next door to her death, and later, when the girl was dead, when she was the subject of a few indignant newspaper articles like the one Anna read about the little Newcastle boy, Anna would look back on this moment when Charlie sat trustingly in her bath, the orange washer on her lap.

  Charlie rested her hand on Anna’s arm. Her fingers were cold. ‘I don’t want to go home.’

  Someone had to take this girl away from Harlan and Gabby. To take someone else’s child was wrong. But what if the wrong thing – the illegal thing – was also the right thing?

  What if taking a child from its mother was the lesser of two evils?

  Anna helped the girl out of the bath and dried her. Anna’s mind spun and her cheeks fizzed with heat, with fear. Could she go through with this? She took hold of Charlie’s hands. Such small fingers. ‘You don’t have to go home. You’re not going home. You’re coming with me.’

  Charlie gazed back at her and gave a small nod. Her face seemed stripped of emotion but her eyes were busy, flicking from Anna’s face and then around the bathroom.

  In her bedroom, Anna found a pair of her shorts that Charlie could wear, with a ribbon for a belt. Then she heard the rumble of the ute as it pulled into the driveway.

  Gabby.

  Through the kitchen window, Anna watched Gabby walk up the front steps. Anna ran to the bathroom, where Charlie stood on the mat.

  ‘Quick,’ said Anna, holding out the shorts. ‘Into these.’

  Her hands shook as she tied the ribbon and dragged the girl’s singlet over her head.

  ‘Come on.’

  As she guided Charlie to the front door, she picked up her phone and handbag, and the toy rabbit.

  Her car was parked on the street right out the front, in a direct line of sight from Gabby and Harlan’s house. Their front yard was empty but how long would it take for Gabby to guess where Charlie was?

  ‘Let’s run to my car. It’s the silver one just there.’

  Charlie didn’t respond, so Anna gripped the girl’s hand and hustled her down the path and over the nature strip. Hot fear shot through her as she helped the girl slide onto the back seat.

  ‘Quick, quick,’ she said. ‘I’ll fix the seatbelt later.’

  It seemed to take ages to open the driver’s door and slide the key into the ignition. There was still no sign of Gabby or Harlan. She started the car, her foot shaking on the accelerator, and pulled out. She drove straight ahead, towards Wentworth Avenue.

  At the corner, she glanced in the rear-view mirror, half-expecting to see Harlan’s ute behind her, but the street was empty. Charlie sat up on the back seat in Anna’s too-big shorts, Bunny on her lap.

  ‘Why don’t you lie down on the seat and have a snooze?’ said Anna. The girl would be less visible that way. Charlie obediently lay down as Anna turned left onto Wentworth.

  ‘What’s your name again?’ the girl asked.

  Oh god. Charlie didn’t even remember her name. The girl was letting a stranger drive away with her.

  ‘Anna. My name’s Anna.’

  She was driving too fast. She slowed and followed a delivery truck up to the lights. Every second that passed landed her in deeper shit. She had just kidnapped someone’s child, for god’s sake. She should turn around now. But that would mean delivering Charlie back to that man. Even now, with a few kilometres between them, Anna could feel him at her back. How must it have been for Charlie to live in that house with him, knowing that her mother would not protect her? She glanced back at the girl.

  ‘I’m sleepy,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Just close your eyes and ha
ve a little nap, then.’

  She followed the truck through the traffic lights. She may well look back on these moments and regret not turning around, but this was the only way she knew to make sure Charlie didn’t end up like that little boy in Newcastle. If she thought about that little boy, it wasn’t so hard to keep driving. She just had to find somewhere safe for her and Charlie to be for a few days, just long enough to draw attention to Charlie’s case. Anna would be in the shit, but Charlie would be alive.

  Chapter Eight

  Once she got onto the M5, she’d have a straight shot west out of the city. She pulled up at another set of lights, and glanced in the mirror for Harlan’s black ute.

  Her phone rang. It was Dave. She let it ring. She shouldn’t talk to him. But she wanted to hear his voice.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  ‘Hey, darling. How are things over there?’ He’d only just started calling her darling. He had jazz on in the background.

  The light turned green and she accelerated. If she told him what she was doing, he’d have to report it, surely. She should hang up.

  ‘Are you driving?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah . . . I’m leaving town for a while.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She turned to check on Charlie, who was fast asleep on her side, her mouth open and slack.

  ‘Well, I have the little girl from next door in my car. This afternoon the stepfather was hanging her upside-down and shaking her really hard. And she told me that he put her head down the toilet and flushed it, that night we went over.’

  ‘He did that the night we went over?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s why she had a towel on her head. And he threatened me today. He threatened you too, for calling the cops. And FACS are bloody useless.’

  Tears filled her eyes. ‘I was so scared, Dave. I thought he was going to hurt me. And I called FACS just now, and I called them last night as well, and nothing happens.’

  She was talking too loudly, and glanced back to make sure she hadn’t woken Charlie. ‘I’m afraid she’ll be killed. I really am. You saw the guy.’ She tried not to let Dave hear that she was crying.