Charlie watched Michael, a shy smile on her lips.
‘She’s a very particular dog, our Ralph,’ said Michael. He tossed the last of his tea away and stood up. ‘Stay with Charlie, Ralph.’
‘I’ll look after her.’ Charlie gazed up at Michael, her eyes bright. She watched him cross to the ute, and returned to stroking Ralph’s damp fur.
Chapter Twenty-one
The late afternoon light slanted over the paddocks, turning the grass a saturated green. Charlie sat between Pat and Anna on the front seat of the ute, and leant forward to look as they passed a young woman standing beside the road, her thumb out. They were down on the plain, only a few minutes from Mullumbimby. Sabine had driven up just before they left, buckets and mops on the back seat of her little car.
Pat slowed the ute as they reached the brick bungalows on the outskirts of town. A cluster of kids rode bikes along the footpath and a woman with a pram waited to cross the road. Anna didn’t like taking Charlie from the safety of the forest, but there was no way she would leave the girl with Sabine. Not now.
Charlie said, ‘Me and Anna are getting our own dog. It’s going to sleep on our bed.’
Pat braked for a car turning right into a driveway. ‘Is that right?’ He smiled at Charlie. ‘What kind of dog?’
‘A Ralphie dog.’
Anna said, ‘Maybe we could just borrow Ralph every now and then?’
‘Mmm, no,’ said Charlie.
Pat turned right towards town. They drove over the bridge and he took back streets to the post office.
‘Is there somewhere I can buy toothbrushes?’ asked Anna as he parked nose in.
‘I’ve got a couple of toothbrushes I can give you. I might have used one of them a couple of times . . .’
‘Oh, that’s fine. Thank you.’ She didn’t want to go into a supermarket and preferred not to ask any more favours of Pat.
Pat turned off the engine and pointed through the windscreen. ‘The phones are around that way.’ An old guy walked by with a labrador.
Anna swallowed and looked ahead. ‘I’m sorry if I came on strong up at the tree . . .’
‘No. It’s alright.’ His voice was strained. ‘It’ll be okay. And just so you know, the cop station is two doors that way.’ He gestured over his shoulder. ‘Not that anyone is ever there anymore.’
‘Oh, really? It’s that close?’ She peered out the back window of the ute. Why did he bring her to this phone? ‘Where are they if they’re not there?’
‘Dunno. I guess they’re over at Byron, where the action is. If you want them, you have to press a buzzer by the door and you get to talk to the Byron or Bruns station.’ He smiled at her. ‘You know what they say, the best place to hide is in plain sight.’
She tried to smile back. ‘I’m not so sure.’
She opened the car door and Charlie slid across the seat. ‘I’m coming, too.’
‘No.’ Anna put her hand on Charlie’s thigh. ‘I won’t be long. Best if I go on my own.’
The girl frowned. ‘Why? I want to come with you.’
‘Because if you are with me, someone might recognise us.’ She glanced around. Three teenagers sat at a picnic table under a big tree on the other side of the road, their heads close, looking at something on a mobile phone.
‘Stay here with Pat.’
‘Here,’ Pat produced a paper bag, ‘do you want some dried mango or dried banana?’
Charlie reached into the bag.
Anna closed the door and stepped up the gutter. She’d tied her hair up in a scarf and wore a long dress that Sabine had given her.
In the palm trees overhead, parrots flocked, squabbling. She passed the post office where two young women sat on the brick steps sharing a cigarette, and a man checked his postbox. Cars slowed to turn the corner into the main street. A woman wheeled a pram by. People were going about their business, moving through their day without counting the steps under their breath or fixing their faces in a casual expression.
Anna stepped into one of the two phone booths, except that it was not a real booth. It had no door, just a roof and side panels. She felt exposed to people walking along the footpath.
Her hands shook as she called directory assistance. She punched in the number for the Canobolas Hotel and dropped coins into the slot.
The phone rang six times before a woman answered. In the background was chatter and the chink of glasses.
‘Hi. I wonder if I could speak to a customer of yours? Neville Pierce.’
The woman paused. ‘Ah, yeah, he’s here. Who’s calling?’
‘Rose.’ Anna’s middle name.
The phone went muffled for a minute. The woman had her hand over the mouthpiece. Then her dad’s voice came on, business-like.
‘This is Neville Pierce.’ He’d walked away to a quieter part of the hotel.
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Annie.’ His voice turned urgent. ‘Are you okay? Where are you?’
‘I’m okay. We’re both okay.’
‘Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been so worried. What on earth were you thinking?’ The sharp tone of his voice stung.
‘I had no choice, Dad. Really. What if she’d been killed, in the house next door, while I just, you know, called FACS every time I heard them shouting at her and shoving her around?’
‘Oh Annie. For god’s sake, you should have left it to the professionals.’
‘But the professionals weren’t looking after her. She was left to fend for herself. She’s five, Dad. Five. He was holding her upside down and threatening to drop her on her head.’
She realised how badly she’d been hoping he’d understand, that he’d approve. For all the supposed black and white of the law, he’d told her often enough there were many shades of grey.
‘It was the lesser of two evils, Dad.’
‘Well, my concern is you and what this means for you now.’ There was the sound of people walking past him, and he lowered his voice. ‘Two detectives came and talked to me and made it very clear how serious a crime this is, as if I didn’t know. You realise that child abduction carries a maximum ten-year sentence?’
‘Ten years.’ Shit. She closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness. ‘You told the detectives about what was happening to Charlie at home, didn’t you?’
‘I told them what you told me. And that you would only do this if you were really, seriously concerned.’
‘So, are they looking into the abuse?’
‘Well, it sounds like it. And they should be. But their top priority is to find you.’ He paused. ‘Where are you, Annie?’
‘I’m not going to say. That way you don’t have to lie.’
That way you won’t tell them.
He was silent.
‘Did they ask you if you had any ideas about where I might go?’ she said.
‘Yeah, of course. But I have no bloody idea where you’ve gone.’ He groaned. ‘Oh, Annie. What a godawful mess this is. Dave phoned me the day after you took off.’
‘How did he sound?’
‘Worried.’
Anna thought she’d probably lost Dave, and lost the possibility of a life together.
Her dad said, ‘He says the longer you hold on to her, the worse it will be for you. The longer the sentence. You know you need to hand her back in, sweetheart. And you need to do it now.’
‘Well, I suspect it’s already pretty bad for me, no matter when she goes back. The whole point of me turning my friggin’ life upside-down is to make sure she doesn’t go back to Gabby and the stepfather. What I need to know is that the cops understand her home is not safe.’ She imagined Harlan pushing a burning cigarette onto Charlie’s tummy. All day she hadn’t been able to stop her mind looping back to that terrible image.
‘Yeah, and the way you help the cops understand that, Anna, is to hand her back and then persuade them that her home’s not safe. You’ve already achieved what you wanted. You have attention on the girl’s situation.’
‘But she�
��d go home while they looked into it, right?’
‘I don’t know about that. It’s possible. Why don’t you just come here and I’ll help you? We’ll hand her over together.’
There was a note in his voice – disappointment? – that left Anna feeling hollow.
‘What if you talk to them, Dad, and get them to agree not to send her back home until they’ve spoken to her and to me about the abuse? That’s the only way I’d think about handing her back.’
‘Annie! You’re talking like a hostage-taker.’ His voice was cool. ‘You are not in a position to be negotiating this. Promise me you will not approach the police with this hare-brained idea. You will be in even deeper trouble.’
She rubbed a finger over the rounded metal corner of the phone. Her dad was not on her side at all. ‘Alright. I won’t.’
‘What will persuade you to hand her back?’ he said. ‘I know you did this for all the right reasons but what you’re doing doesn’t make sense. Step back and think rationally for a moment.’
‘Everyone has been too rational about this, Dad.’ The phone beeped and she dropped another couple of coins in.
‘Oh sweetheart.’ His voice softened. ‘I’m worried about you.’
‘You won’t tell them about this phone call, will you, Dad?’
He sighed. ‘I should, of course. But I won’t.’
‘I thought they might have an ear on your home phone.’
‘Yes. Very possible. And you’d better not call me here again. I was sitting with Graham Inglis when Jules gave me the phone just now.’ Her dad had worked with Graham.
‘Okay.’ A flock of parrots rose from the palm trees and flew off, their chatter deafening.
He cleared his throat. ‘Do you have shelter and food and . . .’
‘Yes. I’m okay for all that. Has there been much in the news?’
‘A bit the first two nights. The mother was going to do a press conference and then it didn’t happen.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know.’
She said, ‘Did you ever want to just take off with a kid, Dad?’
‘Hmm . . . Maybe just for a fleeting moment here or there. It was more like I wanted to pull them out of a shithole and deposit them with a good family. I didn’t want to head off into the sunset with a kid. But I had you two to take care of.’ There was a rustling at his end. ‘Looks like I need to give the phone back. Sorry, I’d better go.’
‘Okay. Bye, Daddo.’ She wanted to keep talking, to try to close the gap that had opened up between them. ‘I’m sorry that I’ve worried you, and brought the police to your door . . .’
His voice was quiet. ‘None of that matters. What matters is that you take care of yourself, my girl. Please think about what I said. You’ve achieved what you set out to. There’s no point staying out there longer. And don’t start thinking you are bargaining with the cops. You haven’t taken a hostage.’
‘Okay.’
‘I love you. And thank you for calling. Maybe call me at the café next time. Monday and Wednesday mornings.’
‘I love you, Dad.’
‘Bye now.’
She closed her eyes and pictured him walking back to the table and picking up his schooner of New and bluffing his way through some story for Graham Inglis and whoever else was there.
Her father’s voice was so familiar – as familiar as her own – but it seemed like something from another lifetime. Her old life – before she took Charlie – was far in the past, not something she was living just four days ago. She could picture her house, and her desk at work, and Dave’s face, but it was as if she was looking at photos, as if nothing of that life actually remained for her to return to.
•
The parked ute was empty, the windows down. She looked around in the fading light. Where the hell are they? A child’s laughter came from somewhere over the road and Anna could just make out Charlie and Pat up a big old camphor laurel tree, their legs straddling a thick branch.
‘Anna! Look at me!’ called Charlie. She was perched in front of Pat and he had one arm hooked around her waist.
Anna crossed the road. ‘Hello, up there.’
Three men walked towards them from town.
‘Shall we go?’ she said.
‘Look at us!’ called Charlie.
Anna smiled up at the girl. ‘I see you.’
‘We can see the tops of people’s heads,’ said Charlie.
‘Lots of bald spots.’ Pat smiled.
He lowered Charlie into Anna’s arms and she carried the girl over the road. Charlie’s bare legs clamped around Anna’s waist and she rested her chin on Anna’s shoulder. Anna concentrated on Charlie’s arms, warm and humming with life.
•
Pat turned left out of town. ‘How’d it go?’
‘Yeah. Okay.’ She looked out the window at a finger of smoke rising into the dusk sky over near the range.
What you are doing doesn’t make sense.
Charlie tipped her head to look at Anna. ‘Did you phone Mummy?
Anna swallowed. ‘No, I called my dad.’
‘To say hello?’
‘Yeah. To explain that I’ve left home for a while . . .’
Pat slowed to turn left again. ‘You didn’t say where you are, though?’
‘No. Of course not.’
Charlie tapped her fingers on Anna’s bare thigh. ‘Why didn’t you tell him where you are?’
‘Oh. Because I don’t . . . I don’t want anyone to come and find us.’ She took a breath. ‘Do you understand that we’re hiding? Hiding from Harlan and Mummy and the police. Even hiding from my dad. We’re hiding so Harlan and Mummy don’t hurt you anymore.’
‘But Mummy could come. Just Mummy.’ Charlie fingered Anna’s dress.
‘Oh Charlie . . .’
Charlie drew her hand away.
‘This is my mate’s place here.’ Pat pulled over in front of a low brick house with a line of palm trees out the front and a white van parked in the driveway. ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’
While they waited, Charlie fiddled with her seatbelt buckle. Click, clack, click, clack. A boy of about ten peered at them as he pedalled by on his bike.
Anna wondered what her mother would have thought of her taking Charlie. She liked to think that her mum would have approved, and even cheered her on, but she had no idea. She’d spent a lifetime second-guessing her mother, trying to imagine herself into the alternate reality of her mother having lived into her fifties and sixties. She would have turned seventy next year.
Charlie pulled her knees up. ‘My tummy hurts.’
‘Maybe you had too much dried banana. Put your hand on your tummy.’ Where the scar is. She laid her own hand over Charlie’s. ‘There you go. Take some slow breaths.’ Charlie breathed noisily through her nose, her stomach rising and falling under Anna’s hand.
God only knew where Charlie would end up when it was all over. Anna would do her best to make sure Charlie didn’t go home, but it would be out of her hands. The only thing she could do was give Charlie more of this life up here at Pat’s, this safe, calm life, anchored in nature. It might fortify the girl against whatever was coming, and give her a sense of another life being possible.
A month. If she could give Charlie a month, then Anna would feel like she’d done her best. And up at the cottage, they’d be beyond Jo’s reach. A month at the cottage, that’s what she’d ask Pat for.
Pat appeared from the gloom, carrying a long thin bundle. He slid it into the tray of the ute and fiddled about back there for a minute. He climbed in and laid a flower on Charlie’s knees. A frangipani.
Anna kept her hand over the girl’s soft belly as Pat accelerated towards the hills.
Charlie moved closer to Anna and said, ‘Mummy would tell Harlan where we are, you know.’
‘Yes. I think she would.’
‘So we can’t tell her where we are.’
‘No.’
Charlie clearly knew that
her mother would put Harlan first.
Chapter Twenty-two
When they pulled up at the house, Charlie was asleep on Anna’s lap. She carried the girl, heavy and floppy, to the bails, and laid a pillow beside her so she wouldn’t roll out of bed.
Pat tucked in the mosquito net, then turned to her. ‘What did your dad say?’
‘He wants me to hand her in right now.’
‘And will you?’
She shook her head. ‘I really want to give her more of this life here, Pat. Just a bit more. If we’re up at the cottage and Jo thinks we’ve gone, maybe we could we stay a few weeks. A month. Just a month, so she knows that it’s possible to live without yelling and violence. And to give the cops time to figure out what’s been going on at her place.’
Pat looked over to the dark house. Anna wondered where Sabine was.
‘There’d have to be no more phone calls,’ he said.
‘Okay.’
‘We’ll tell everyone – Michael, Jo, Beatie – that you’ve left.’
‘Yes.’
‘And if the newspapers say that the cops think you’re up this way, you’ll have to go. I have a tent and some camping gear ready for you, but you can’t tell them you got it from me.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘And when you do hand yourself in, what will you tell them about where you’ve been?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. That we’ve been camping.’
‘But Charlie will tell them you’ve been staying with people called Pat and Sabine.’
‘Oh . . .’ She felt embarrassed that she had given so little thought to what the consequences might be for Pat.
He said, ‘Let’s come up with a story that won’t bring me and Sabine into it. I’ll give it some thought.’
‘I’m sorry, Pat.’
He gave her a rueful look. ‘Why don’t you come and have some dinner?’
‘Sabine gave us some of the chicken earlier, when you were stacking the timber in the shed. But I’ll come over and go to the loo.’
As they approached the house, Anna saw the tiny red glow of a mosquito coil on the verandah, and realised Sabine was sitting on the verandah in the dark.
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