Promise (15 page)

Anna spoke sharply, ‘Sabine.’

Sabine turned to look at Anna as Charlie slid off the bench and ran after the chooks.

Anna said in a low voice, ‘Please don’t ask her that kind of question.’

Sabine looked evenly at Anna. ‘The violence, you know, it becomes normal to children like this. She
needs
to hear that this is not okay.’ She sounded weary. ‘She needs to hear an adult say that it is wrong, all these things what happened.’

Anna sat beside Sabine and the bench rocked slightly under them. Charlie had left Bunny sprawled on the grass. Anna picked up the rabbit and spoke quietly. ‘Well, I’ve told her that. And I think she
does
know it’s wrong. I’d just rather you leave it to me to tell her why she’s here . . .’

Sabine made a clicking noise with her tongue. ‘I don’t think you understand that the violence is in every second of her life. Even if the mother and he are far away, it affects how she thinks about
everything
and
everyone
. How she sees
all
of us, you and me too. She needs to hear many times that she did nothing wrong. We do her no favours to pretend it didn’t happen.’

Anna noted Sabine’s
we
. And of course Sabine was a part of it. Anna had obliged her to be. ‘I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.’

On the far side of the lawn, Charlie lifted the lid on a metal bucket beside the chookhouse.

Sabine looked down at a small bundle of colourful fabric on her lap. ‘Believe me. I have a certain understanding of this.’

‘Did something like that happen to you as a kid?’

Sabine nodded. ‘I wish someone talked to me about it, you know, actually
said
what was happening,
said
it was wrong.’ She gave Anna a fleeting smile. ‘Huh. I wish someone scooped me up like you did. The woman next door knew but she didn’t have the . . .’ she flapped a hand in the air, ‘. . . the courage to say it. The
coeur
. It needs to be said, Anna.’

She called to Charlie, ‘You can give the chickens some grain if you like, little one. From that bucket.’ She pointed.

Charlie scooped out a handful of grain. The chooks gathered around her, clucking excitedly and scratching at the grass.

Anna wondered about the value in having Charlie describe again what must be the worst possible betrayal, being hurt by the person who birthed you. ‘You may be right but I don’t want us coming at her scattergun. Please, can you talk to me before you have that kind of conversation with her?’

Sabine shrugged. ‘Okay. So,
you
tell me, how did it happen? The arm?’

‘Charlie said her mother pushed her down the steps.’

Sabine sighed heavily. ‘Her
mother
.’

They watched Charlie fling grain across the lawn.

‘That’s enough, I think, Charlie,’ called Sabine. ‘Their tummies will get too filled up.’

She turned to look at Anna. ‘You are a good person, Anna. Truly.’

Anna shook her head. She liked to be thought of as a good person but knew she was not. Was anyone truly good? Perhaps people like Sabine just wanted to believe in goodness.

Anna’s dad had all the trappings of a good man – moral rectitude, kindness, civic responsibility – but not enough goodness or selflessness to see the harm he did to his children by refusing to talk about his dead wife. He was blinded by his own grief.

Everyone had a blind spot, Anna thought. Her mother’s death still bled into Anna’s daily life, less than it used to, but it was there, colouring decisions she made. In that frantic split second when she decided to take Charlie, did Anna think,
Maybe this is what my mother would have done?

She must have, because
What would my mother have done here?
– barely articulated – was always hovering. Most of the time she didn’t really know what her mother would have done, but on this, perhaps she did. She remembered her mother’s fierce defence of a boy at soccer – a teammate of Luke’s – whose dad gave him a shove in the carpark after a losing match. Anna’s mother marched over and took hold of the man’s arm and spoke to him in a low, scolding tone. The man had bowed his head. Perhaps her mother had assumed the authority of the policeman’s wife but Anna suspected her mum had always been like that. Maybe her dad married a woman who already carried herself like a policeman’s wife. It was a dispiriting thought, that Anna had taken Charlie to live up to her mother’s memory, but perhaps borrowed morality was as good as any.

‘I just did it,’ she said to Sabine.

‘That’s what I mean, just natural goodness.’ Sabine nodded. ‘So, if they catch you, what’s the . . . punishment? In Germany it’s regarded very serious.’

‘Yes, here as well. I don’t know what the exact penalty is,’ she swallowed the lump in her throat, ‘but it probably involves jail.’

She looked over at Charlie, who squatted on the grass, patting a chook. What the hell would her mother have done once she’d got the child to safety? Anna had no idea. She wanted to cry. She wanted someone else to take over now.

‘Ah!’ Sabine turned to look at Anna, her brow furrowed. ‘You risk that for a girl you hardly know?’ Sabine’s voice was too loud.

Anna nodded.

‘Well, you have a lot of courage, Anna. You’re maybe making a very big sacrifice.’

Anna’s voice shook. ‘Please, can we not talk about this anymore?’

Thinking about jail would stop her from functioning, and figuring out what to do now. After her mother died she learnt to stop the yearning and the desire to turn back time by somehow just re-routing those thoughts. She needed to do the same now. It was no use to her or Charlie to be worrying about jail.

Charlie crossed the grass towards them, the chooks pacing behind her. She looked a bit wan. Might she have heard them?

Anna took a breath. ‘Hey, Charlie. Those chooks love you.’

Sabine stood and thrust a small pile of folded clothes at Anna. ‘These are for her.’

‘Where are they from?’ Anna took the stack of clothes, a green t-shirt on the top, as Charlie came to stand beside her.

‘They belong to the kids here,’ said Sabine. ‘Well, to the six-year-old.’

‘But . . .’

Sabine flapped her hand. ‘It’s fine. They will be completely fine with it, don’t worry.’

Anna swallowed. ‘Okay. Thanks, Sabine. That’s great.’

Charlie touched the green t-shirt and her small, dusty fingers brushed against Anna’s. This child was alive and safe. That was what Anna had to keep at the front of her mind.

‘And you can have some of my clothes.’ Sabine glanced down her body. ‘You’re shorter but that’s alright. Half my clothes don’t fit me now anyway.’

‘Thank you. Thank you for noticing the things that we need . . .’

‘And there’s a pair of shoes.’ Sabine pointed to the ground.

‘Are they for me?’ Charlie touched a toe to the grubby pink sneakers tucked under the bench.

Anna nodded. ‘Yes. Do you want to put them on?’

Charlie picked them up and undid the Velcro straps. They were scuffed, with remnants of silver glitter along the side. Anna hoped they were not a favourite of the little girl who owned them.

Sabine re-tied her dressing gown belt. ‘Good. I have to go up to Stefano’s to collect guavas for the birthday cake. You know your way back?’

‘Yes. We’ll be right.’

Sabine regarded her for a moment. ‘So. Good news, eh? That they think you are somewhere else.’ She smiled broadly, her face transformed. In repose, she looked austere, stern even. She had a Modigliani face, thought Anna. Long and sad-eyed.

‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘Good news. Thank you.’

‘
Tschüss
!’ Sabine took the steps two at a time and disappeared into the bush. The forest pressed in on the house more here than at Pat’s. Some of the trees on the hill behind the house had to be at least forty metres tall.

Anna unknotted Charlie’s sarong and helped her into faded purple undies and a pair of grey shorts. Charlie sat on the bench while Anna fitted the sneakers onto her feet.

‘They’re a bit big,’ said Anna, pressing down to find Charlie’s toes. ‘Do you still want to wear them? I’m worried you might trip.’

Charlie stood and trod her feet up and down on the grass. Her legs looked so skinny in the too-big shorts and shoes. ‘I want to wear them.’

‘Okay.’ The sun was over the trees now and hard in Anna’s face. ‘Do you go to school, Charlie?’

She slid a hand into the pocket of the shorts. ‘No. Next year.’

‘Did you go to preschool or . . . or childcare?’ Is that what kids did before school?

Charlie shook her head and looked down as if she thought she’d said the wrong thing.

‘It’s okay. Lots of kids don’t go to school until they’re six.’ Anna held out her hand, palm up. ‘Let’s go back to Pat and Sabine’s place.’

Charlie lifted her head. ‘I want Mummy.’

Anna swallowed. ‘I know. But we can’t go to her now.’

Charlie’s eyes shone with tears. ‘Is he there, with Mummy?’

Anna nodded. ‘You’ll see her soon but it’s not safe for you at home right now. I’m sorry.’

Charlie looked out to the bush, her shoulders slumped. In the distance a dog barked insistently.

P
at sat on the verandah steps whittling, his knife flicking off small curls of wood. As Anna and Charlie approached, he smiled.

‘This is for you, Charlie.’ He handed her a carving of a small koala sitting on a branch.

Charlie turned it over in her hand and looked up at him.

‘Yours. It’s a present.’ He folded the knife into the scabbard at his waist. ‘So, is the word out?’

‘Yes,’ said Anna. She sat beside him on the step and shaded her eyes. ‘But they think we’re around Orange.’

Pat nodded slowly. ‘Well, that’s good.’

Charlie carried the koala to a nearby lemon tree, and wedged it in a fork.

Pat said, ‘Did you see a newspaper article?’

‘Yeah.’

‘With a photo of her?’

‘Of both of us. And my car rego.’

She imagined her friends seeing the article. Clients she’d designed for. Old boyfriends. They must all be thinking she’d gone crazy, stealing a neighbour’s child. Mon and Clay and Russell would know why; she’d told them what was happening next door. She should have at least phoned and left them a message. They’d be scrambling to find someone else to take over her jobs.

Pat watched Charlie pick leaves from the lemon tree and tuck them beside the koala.

‘Did you hear the koala in the night?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Anna. ‘I didn’t.’ She wanted him to actually say the words: that it was okay for them to stay now.

‘You might want to tell her what a strange sound it can be, so she’s not scared. Do you remember it?’ He brushed wood shavings from his jeans.

‘No,’ Anna said.

‘It’s throaty, growling. Not something you’d expect from a little furry critter.’

‘Okay. I’ll mention it.’

He rested back on his elbows and stretched out his legs. His jeans were muddy at the knees. ‘You know,’ he said, his voice lazy, ‘I think we should probably hide your car.’

‘So it’s okay with you if we stay for a while?’

He looked at her. ‘Yeah. Of course. The cops clearly have no lead, so . . . Yes. You should stay for a while. We’ll keep an eye on the news, though.’

‘Thank you.’ She blinked hard. She didn’t want to cry in front of him or show how desperate she’d felt. ‘Really. Thank you.’ She cleared her throat. ‘So, where would we hide the car?’

‘A friend down the road has a paddock full of old cars – a kind of wrecking yard – where we could park it. I’ll take the plates off.’

‘Okay.’ The last vestige of her old life would be gone.

‘We can always get it back if you need it,’ said Pat.

You mean
, thought Anna,
if you decide we have to go
. She watched Charlie drop the koala onto the ground and step on it.

‘I think we should tell people on the property, like Beatie, that you’ve ah . . . fled a violent husband, and that we need to keep it really quiet that you’re here.’

‘Okay.’ How much simpler it would be if Charlie really was hers and they were hiding from just one man.

‘I’ll drive your car down a bit later, then. I’ll stick it behind the shed for now, ’cause Sabine’s midwife is coming soon.’ He sat up. ‘You’d better make yourself scarce.’

‘Okay.’

Anna crossed to Charlie, who was pressing her shoe onto the koala. ‘Watcha doing, eh?’ She spoke gently and knelt by Charlie’s side.

‘It fell.’

‘Yeah, I saw that. Is it okay?’

Charlie shrugged and lifted her foot. The koala was embedded in the grass. Anna picked it up and brushed dirt off its back. Charlie snatched it from her hand as Pat called over from Anna’s car, where he’d opened the driver’s door.

‘Where’s Sabine?’

‘She went to someone else’s place. Um . . . Stefano’s.’

‘I hope she remembers that Jo’s coming.’ He climbed in and she heard the familiar jingle of her key ring.

‘Are we going somewhere in the car?’ asked Charlie, looking down at the koala in her hand.

‘No. We’re staying here.’

Pat reversed the car behind the shed as Sabine appeared from the forest. She’d undone her dressing gown and it flapped behind her. She carried something slung in her lifted singlet.

‘Maybe go down to the waterhole,’ Pat said as he strode towards them. ‘Take some food with you. I don’t know what time Jo will leave. Last time she stayed for three bloody hours so I’ll come and get you when we’re done.’

‘I don’t know how long we’ll need to stay here, Pat . . .’

Pat jingled her keys in his hand and didn’t reply for a moment. ‘You said you’d need just long enough for the authorities to get a bead on her situation.’

‘That’s right. But I don’t know how long that will take.’

A week? A month? She had this girl’s life in her hands, and no bloody idea what she was doing. Was it possible she’d already done what she set out to do, and put the girl squarely on FACS’ radar?

Pat watched Sabine, who stood near the forest, looking down at whatever she was carrying in her singlet. Her belly was in profile and Anna tried to imagine a small baby curled up in there. Pat’s baby. He turned back to Anna, and tossed the keys in his hand.