Promise

by Sarah Armstrong

  ‘Okay.’

  They spoke on the phone every couple of nights. Sometimes he didn’t call her until midnight. She and Dave couldn’t talk about the case, so they ended up telling each other about their childhoods. She’d told him about her mother and he told her about his parents’ divorce.

  Now she was sitting at his island bench, watching him move around the kitchen in his board shorts, and he didn’t seem like the same person she had those late-night conversations with.

  While he ground the coffee beans, Anna looked out his back window and saw a cluster of her terracotta pots near the fence. She’d planned on taking a few pots back to Orange but decided to leave them here. He’d clearly been watering them, and they looked green and happy. She couldn’t bear the thought of them in her dad’s barren backyard.

  They sat on his balcony to eat, the ocean glinting through a gap in the buildings.

  ‘Have you got an appointment with Lindy yet?’ asked Dave through a mouthful of croissant.

  ‘Yeah. I spoke to her instructing solicitor. I’m going to meet with her once the police send the brief of evidence.’ He’d gone through university with this hotshot barrister, who charged $7000 a day in court.

  He put his feet up on the railing. ‘So, how are you going? You look a bit thin and . . . sad.’

  ‘Yeah. I feel pretty . . . bereft.’

  She’d been saying the word to herself on the drive over the mountains. The word’s rolling middle and soft, falling-away sound managed to convey everything that she didn’t know how to say. ‘But I know that she may not feel bereft, you know, about me. It’s okay if it’s one-sided. It’s better, really, if she’s not missing me as well as missing her mother. I just want to know that she’s okay with the grandmother. That she’s being treated well. If I could just be a fly on the wall at the grandma’s house . . . I looked up where she lives. It’s an unusual surname.’ She fingered the handle of her coffee cup.

  Dave put down his coffee cup. ‘Be very careful. Don’t do anything that might breach your bail. No contact means no contact.’ He was speaking softly and she could tell he was restraining himself.

  ‘I know. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything to end me up in jail. Six hours in a cell was plenty.’ She sighed. ‘I just want to know she’s okay. I really miss her, you know.’

  He gave a small smile. ‘You love her.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She nodded. Dave sat quietly as she cried.

  •

  They made love on the couch, and the feeling of him entering her was almost painful in its delicacy, and she couldn’t help feeling afraid that this was the last time they’d make love. Later, he fell asleep on her, and she lay there for a few minutes, then slid out from under him and went to the bathroom. She poured herself some grapefruit juice and stood watching him sleep.

  At his dining table, she opened his laptop and looked again at the Google Maps picture of what she was sure was Charlie’s grandmother’s place.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Anna and her dad ate grilled lamb chops and mashed potato in front of the television, the puppy curled up at her dad’s feet. He jabbed his fork at the TV screen. ‘Look at this idiot! He’s not getting my vote.’

  ‘No, not mine either. How much salt did you put in this mash, Dad?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry. It poured out a bit fast. If you add some more pepper that will disguise it.’

  She laughed. ‘Where’d you get that idea?’

  ‘Oh, you know . . . long experience.’ He smiled and rubbed a slippered foot over the pup’s back.

  The landline rang in the kitchen. Her dad sighed, and carried his plate with him to answer it. Anna used the remote to mute the TV.

  ‘Yes, certainly. Please hold.’

  He handed the phone to Anna, frowning. He hated calls at dinner time.

  ‘Hello?’ said Anna.

  ‘You’re Anna Pierce?’ The woman had a gravelly voice.

  ‘Yes. That’s me.’

  ‘I’m Prue Seybold. Charlie’s nanna.’

  Oh, god.

  ‘Hello.’ She stood and put her plate on the sideboard but the knife slid off onto the floor. ‘How you find my number?’ She picked up the knife. Would the court regard this as contact?

  ‘I rang another Pierce in Orange and they gave me your number.’

  ‘Oh.’ Anna walked out to the kitchen. ‘Is she living with you?’

  ‘Yeah. I thought you knew that.’

  ‘How is she?’

  The woman exhaled wheezily. ‘Oh, I don’t know what to say. She’s not in a good way, is she?’ She paused. ‘She keeps asking to see you. You need to come.’

  Anna closed her eyes and, for a moment, let the idea of seeing Charlie flicker through her.

  ‘I’m not allowed to see her. That’s one of my bail conditions.’

  Anna glanced into the living room. Her dad still had the TV muted; he was listening.

  ‘Yeah, well bail conditions can go and get stuffed. I need you to come, love.’ She coughed. ‘Believe me, I’m not going to tell anyone that you’ve been here. Because this little girl needs to see you.’ She sighed. ‘She ran away yesterday, or tried to. I’m not . . . It’s a fuckin’ mess, is what it is. Thanks to her bloody mother and the boyfriend.’

  Anna wanted to see Charlie more than anything, to check that she was okay, to see if this grandmother – who’d had her for three weeks now – was taking care of her, but, shit, she did not want to go to jail. How could she trust that this woman wouldn’t dob her in? She could be setting Anna up.

  The grandmother said, ‘When can you come?’ She didn’t make it sound like a question.

  ‘Can I talk to Charlie, please?’ Anna just wanted to hear her voice.

  ‘She’s asleep.’

  ‘Oh.’ It was 7 pm.

  ‘She fell asleep on the couch. She’s not used to going to school.’

  ‘So she’s in kindergarten?’

  ‘Yeah. Prep, it’s called here. Just down the road. Nice little school.’

  ‘Where are you, Prue? Where do you live?’

  ‘Nerang.’ That was the Gold Coast place Anna had seen on Google Maps.

  ‘Could I call back tomorrow morning and talk to her? Maybe I can talk to her and . . .’ She tried to swallow her tears but the woman could surely tell she was crying. ‘I can’t come and see her. I don’t want to go to jail.’

  Prue whispered. ‘I’m not going to tell anyone.’

  ‘Give me your number and I’ll call in the morning.’

  Anna jotted the number on her dad’s telephone pad, and after she hung up, tucked it in her pocket. She wiped her eyes with a tea towel. Thinking about going to see Charlie was madness. Just telephoning her was probably a breach.

  As she sat back down, her dad pointed the remote at the TV but didn’t press the volume button. ‘Who was that?’

  She picked up her fork. ‘That was Charlie’s grandmother.’

  He looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘What did she want?’

  ‘Sounds like she’s having a hard time.’

  He nodded and ran a thumb over the buttons on the remote. ‘Don’t do anything stupid, Annie.’

  ‘I won’t.’ She kept her eyes on the news, and forked the mash into her mouth. She’s not in a good way, is she? I need you to come. What if the grandmother was hurting Charlie and asking for help? She made herself picture the little girl curled up, sleeping safely on a couch, somewhere on the Gold Coast.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Charlie answered the phone the next morning, her voice hopeful.

  ‘Is that you, Anna?’

  ‘It’s me, sweetie.’ Anna stood in her dad’s backyard, down near the back fence, the puppy chewing on a stick near her feet. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Can you come? Nanna said you can come.’ She sounded close to tears.

  ‘Oh, I’m not allowed to come and see you. The police say I’m not allowed.’ She looked at the distant mountains. Don’t even think about it, A
nna.

  Charlie whispered, ‘I want you to come, Anna. I want you to make me pikelets.’

  ‘Remember that invisible string that always connects us, even if we’re apart?’

  ‘But I want to see you real.’

  ‘I know.’ She exhaled a long breath and rested her eyes on the mountains. ‘Nanna said you’ve started school. How’s that?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Do you have a uniform?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Her voice was dull.

  ‘How is it living with Nanna?’ Of course, Prue might be right there, listening. Anna wished she hadn’t asked.

  There was silence from Charlie’s end, just a television squawking. Then Charlie whispered, ‘Please come. Please.’

  Anna closed her eyes.

  The phone clunked. ‘Anna?’ It was Prue.

  ‘Hello. Good morning.’ The puppy nosed at Anna’s bare foot.

  ‘I’m not going to tell anyone, Anna.’ Prue was more brusque this morning. ‘This weekend. You need to come this weekend.’

  In the night, Anna had calculated how long it would take to drive to Sydney and catch a plane north. ‘I’ll come tomorrow. Saturday. Expect me mid-morning.’

  •

  The airplane was full of families heading off on holiday. The kids sitting in front of Anna screamed when the plane hit turbulence during the descent, and cheered when they touched down.

  She hired the cheapest, smallest car available. She had to show her credit card for a deposit but paid in cash. The map on her phone directed her north, up the motorway, and to the small compound of white-brick single-storey units she’d seen on Google Maps. The building looked older and less well tended than it did online.

  She parked down the road, and as she walked back, she scanned the cars. Except if the police were waiting to catch her in the act of breaching her bail conditions, they’d hardly park right out the front.

  Two boys about Macky’s age rode by on bikes with towels around their necks, and an older woman struggled by with plastic shopping bags.

  She paused in the driveway. She could turn around right now, drive to the airport and catch the next plane back to Sydney. That would be the wise thing to do. Except Charlie was expecting her.

  She walked along the path, past bark-chipped garden beds and had to step over a faded plastic trike. She found Unit 5 and took a couple of deep breaths and knocked on the door. There was no sound from inside and she knocked again, looking about to see if anyone was watching her, half-expecting a cop to come walking around the corner. The smell of something spicy cooking came from another unit and she could hear a television.

  A very thin, dark-haired woman banged shut the door of the unit next door. She shielded her eyes from the sun and peered at Anna. ‘I saw her go out a bit earlier, love. Don’t know how long she’ll be.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Anna smiled. ‘I’ll pop back later then.’

  The woman locked her door. She wore a floral sundress and wheeled a shopping trolley behind her. Anna wanted to ask her about Charlie, and whether she ever heard crying or screaming, but she just nodded as the woman wheeled her trolley by and used a foot to shove the tricycle onto the patchy grass.

  After the woman disappeared from view, Anna looked in the kitchen window. An open box of breakfast cereal sat on the counter right under the window and she could see through to a small living area crowded with armchairs and a big wall unit. The television was on but muted. A pink child-sized hoodie hung on the back of a dining chair.

  As Anna headed back to the car she saw big glossy leaves on the grass, carefully arranged in a sunburst shape. She crouched and fixed up a couple of leaves that had moved out of place, and nudged the small pink lillipilli fruit back into the centre.

  She sat in her car, the windows down, sweating, and debating whether to drive back to the airport. It was the sensible thing to do. After ten minutes, she saw a woman and child approaching in the distance.

  Charlie.

  Tears rushed up and painfully clogged her throat. She’d recognise that little figure anywhere, those skinny legs, that walk. She climbed out of her car and took a deep breath. If the cops were watching, she was already stuffed, so she might as well just go ahead.

  They moved slowly; the grandmother was overweight and used a wheelie walker. Charlie carried a bag of shopping in each hand, and wore too-short pink shorts and a purple top.

  As Anna approached, Charlie stared, then looked down at her feet.

  Anna nodded and smiled at the grandmother then knelt in front of the girl, the pavement hot under her knees.

  ‘Hi, Charlie.’

  The girl still looked down. ‘You came,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Yes, I came. Can I carry those bags for you?’

  Charlie handed Anna the bags. She had a lopsided, short fringe now.

  ‘It’s really nice to see you,’ said Anna, hoping that Charlie would look up, so she could see her eyes.

  Anna stood up, the bags in one hand. ‘Hello, Prue.’

  Charlie’s grandmother leant heavily on the walker. Her face was pale and sweaty, and she gave a big nod in Anna’s direction, as if she didn’t have the energy to speak. She flapped a swollen, twisted hand at Anna.

  ‘Let’s go inside, love. Out of the sun.’ She handed Charlie a set of keys and Charlie ran up the path to the units.

  Anna could see something of Gabby in the grandmother, in the high cheek bones and pointy chin. She had short greying hair and wore a long purple dress.

  ‘You go ahead with her, love.’ Prue’s voice had the brisk tone of someone in pain.

  Charlie waited in the open door of the unit and watched as Anna walked up the path. The girl had dark smudges under her eyes and looked thinner.

  ‘You’ve got fancy earrings on,’ Charlie said and disappeared into the dim interior.

  Anna stepped inside. The air smelt a bit sour, but it was cooler than outside. The small living and dining area was crowded with two couches, an armchair and a wooden dining table. One of the couches was stacked with newspapers, magazines and shoe boxes, and the walls were covered with framed pictures, including a couple of big photos of what could only be Gabby as a teenager; she was much fuller in the face and smiled shyly.

  Prue parked her walker inside the door and moved past Anna into the small kitchen. ‘Do you want a cuppa?’

  ‘I’d love one, thank you.’

  Charlie appeared holding two of the wooden dolls Pat made her. Anna felt a tearful rush of gratitude for whichever cop had gone back to the cottage and searched around for Charlie’s things.

  ‘Take a seat, Anna. On the lounge,’ said Prue as she flicked the jug on. ‘Charlie, get the milk from the fridge, will you?’

  Anna sat on the couch. Charlie retrieved the milk, then sat beside her. The girl put the dolls down her t-shirt, wedged her hands between her thighs and fixed her eyes on the silent television.

  Anna bent to Charlie and spoke quietly, ‘I’ve missed you so much, sweetie.’

  Charlie glanced up at her then back to the telly. She fiddled with the hem of her pink shorts, which cut into her legs.

  There was the crackle of a biscuit packet being opened in the kitchen then Prue called, ‘Can you come and carry the teas, Anna?’

  Anna collected the two mugs and put Prue’s on the table beside the big recliner. She wanted to offer Charlie something to drink too, but it wasn’t her place anymore.

  Prue deposited a plate of choc-chip biscuits on the coffee table and lowered herself into her chair.

  ‘Help yourself to the biscuits, Anna. I’m not meant to have them. And you can have one, then go and play, Charlie love.’

  Charlie said in a sullen voice, ‘No. She just got here.’

  Prue jabbed a finger down the hall. ‘Go and play!’ Her voice was steely. ‘You heard me!’

  Anna felt a fizz of worry and shifted closer to Charlie on the couch. The girl kept her eyes fixed on the television, her mouth set in a determined expression.
r />   Prue leant forward, her eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t make me get up, Charlie. Go to your room.’

  Anna said, ‘Well, maybe Charlie could show me her room, and then you and I can talk, Prue.’

  Prue sighed. ‘Fine.’ With a swollen hand she reached for her mug of tea.

  •

  Dark-blue, gauzy curtains leant a strange light to the small room and the stale air smelt of piss. Charlie dropped onto the bed with a biscuit in her hand. Bunny was propped on the pillow behind her.

  ‘She’s gonna get me another castle,’ said Charlie. ‘My one got lost . . .’

  Anna could well imagine Gabby walking out and leaving everything behind. ‘Oh, that’s good. Did the police give you those dolls?’ She pointed at the lump under Charlie’s top.

  The girl nodded. ‘Have you seen Macky?’

  ‘No.’

  Charlie spoke through a mouthful of biscuit. ‘Can we go back?’

  ‘To Pat’s place? To the cottage?’ Anna sat beside her on the saggy bed.

  Charlie nodded.

  ‘No. I can’t take you there, I’m sorry. I’m not meant to see you at all. You can’t tell anyone that I’m here today. Okay? You really mustn’t tell anyone.’ She was sick of asking Charlie to lie.

  ‘’Cause you’ll get in trouble?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  She nodded. ‘Nanna told me. We can’t say anything to the welfare lady.’

  Oh God. ‘Who’s the welfare lady?’

  ‘She brung me here.’

  ‘Right.’

  Charlie wiped her fingers on the bedspread. ‘Does Macky remember me?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure he does. Just like I do. I think of you lots of times every day.’

  ‘Mummy was coming but she missed her plane.’

  ‘So have you seen Mummy?’

  ‘No.’ She chewed her lip. ‘I spoke to her on the phone. Nanna shouted at her.’ Anna could hear Prue channel-surfing in the living room.

  Anna reached a hand and gently brushed Charlie’s tufty fringe back from her forehead. She spoke very quietly. ‘How is it living with Nanna?’

  Charlie shrugged, but tears filled her eyes. She looked down at her lap.

  ‘She sounded a bit grumpy at you before. Does she get grumpy very much?’