Promise (21 page)

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.

W
hen 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.

‘Hi there.’ Pat climbed the steps and sat on the bench beside Sabine.

‘Hi.’ Sabine sounded weary.

Anna slipped inside to the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and rested her head in her hands. Ten years for abduction, her dad said. Fear of what was coming – in a month’s time – was lodged somewhere down near her solar plexus, like a big dense rock. She managed to not think about it most of the time. But it was there, just on the periphery of her awareness. It was worth it, she told herself. It was worth it to save Charlie.
My freedom in exchange for Charlie’s life.
She tried to persuade herself that the equation made sense.

She wondered if Charlie had ever feared for her life. What about that boy in Newcastle, or the four-year-old in Perth Anna read about online, did they know they were about to die?

As Anna stepped out onto the verandah, Pat and Sabine fell silent.

‘Um, Pat,’ said Anna. ‘Did you say you have a couple of spare toothbrushes?’

He stood up. ‘Yes. Sure.’

‘No,’ said Sabine abruptly. ‘I bought you toothbrushes today. You, and Charlie, too.’

‘Oh, really? Thank you.’

Sabine pointed over her shoulder. ‘On the kitchen table.’

In a white paper bag, Anna found a blue toothbrush with a soft head and a small pink one with a cartoon princess on it.

‘Thanks, Sabine,’ she called to the dark verandah. ‘Really. Thank you.’

Anna brushed her teeth at the bathroom sink, taking her time and using heaps of toothpaste, the foam spilling from her mouth. She heard raised voices on the verandah.

‘You know that! You know that!’ Sabine said loudly.

Pat mumbled back. She knew Pat would do anything to avoid conflict. Pat and Anna were both like that and she suspected it had been part of their demise. If they’d had a frank discussion about the abortion and their relationship, they would have made a mutual decision, whichever way it went.

Anna returned to the verandah, and moved towards the steps, ready to head over to the bails.

Sabine said, ‘You have to understand, Anna, that Jo is my midwife. I have to tell her
everything
.’

Anna turned back and moved so she could see Sabine’s face in the light from the kitchen. ‘Yes, but . . . I thought –’

Sabine interrupted, ‘Yesterday she could tell I was upset, and my relationship with her must be one of absolute trust and honesty.’ She nodded her head emphatically. ‘My birth won’t go well otherwise, you understand.’

‘I just thought we’d agreed not to tell anyone.’

She wouldn’t point out that Sabine had not been so frank as to tell Jo that she was in the country illegally.

‘Jo said she would not tell. And I believe her, so you must believe her too.’ Sabine rested her hands on her belly. Was this the moment she would ask Anna and Charlie to go?

‘Please don’t tell anyone else, Sabine.
Please
.’

‘I know. I know,’ Sabine snapped. ‘I
get
it. Believe me, I get it.’

Pat ran his tongue along the paper of his joint. ‘Anna, honestly, you can trust Jo. She’s the keeper of many secrets, I am sure. And we won’t be telling anyone else.’

Anna was not so sure that Pat trusted Jo.

He balanced his unlit joint on the edge of the ashtray and stood up. ‘So, who wants something to drink?’

‘Lemon myrtle tea, please,’ said Sabine.

‘No, thanks.’ Anna slid the toothbrushes into the pocket of her dress. Sabine’s dress.

Sabine stretched out a foot and pushed the mosquito coil a bit further away. ‘When I was in town before, I checked the internet at a friend’s place. They still say they think you are out west. But much smaller story now. Also, I bought you some things. A few clothes from the op shop for Charlie. And there’s some more of my clothes for you.’

She gestured to her right, into the shadows of the verandah, where Anna could make out a washing basket piled with folded clothes.

‘Thank you, Sabine.’ Anna closed her eyes, ashamed for feeling suspicious of someone so thoughtful. ‘That’s very kind. I’ll pay you.’

‘Eighteen dollars.’

‘I’ll get it now.’ She took a step towards the stairs.

Sabine waved her hand around. ‘No, no. Not now. No rush.’

‘I need to give you some money for food too.’

‘Talk to Pat about that but I am thinking a few days’ food is nothing.’ She flapped a hand towards Pat, who was rinsing out the teapot, his back to them.

‘Okay.’ It seemed that Pat hadn’t talked to Sabine about them staying up at the cottage for a month. But perhaps Anna was dreaming to think that was even possible. Perhaps they’d be found before the month was out. Could the phone call to her dad be their undoing?

Sabine picked up and shook a box of matches that Pat had left on the bench.

‘Are you still in love with him, Anna?’

‘What?’

Sabine stared at her. ‘Are you still in love with Patrick?’

‘No. Not at all.’ Anna resisted glancing at him. Surely he could hear them?

Sabine said, ‘You had plenty of years to come back and try again.’

‘I’m not. Not in the slightest. Please don’t worry about that.’

Why the hell was Sabine asking this? Anna hadn’t done anything to suggest she was in love with him, had she?

‘I’m not worried. Because he’s not in love with you. He told me.’

‘Yeah. Well, there you go.’ She forced a smile and ran her thumb over the toothbrush handles in her pocket.

‘Better if we are all clear.’

‘Yes, yes. Good to be clear. We’re just old, old friends.’

Was it Pat who thought she was still in love with him? She felt the sting of a mosquito on her ankle and reached down to brush it away. ‘Well, I’m glad they still think we’re out west . . . Thank you so much for the toothbrushes and clothes. I’d better get back to Charlie. I’m really . . . so tired.’

‘Good night.’

She started down the steps with the basket of clothes and called to Pat, ‘Night!’

He waved a hand. If he’d heard their conversation, he showed no sign of it.

Anna crossed the grass, the basket bumping on her hip. She had not even a flicker of romantic love for Pat. But she cared about him, and cared that she had brought trouble to his doorstep. Moving up to the cottage would be good for everyone.

Inside the bails, Charlie sprawled over the bed, the sheet pushed aside. Anna lifted the neatly folded clothes from the basket: singlets and t-shirts, a delicate white lace dress with spaghetti straps, a red singlet dress and three pairs of undies. Anna took off her own undies and pulled the new ones on.

There were shorts and dresses for Charlie and a pair of small green sandals. She closed her eyes against tears. Oh, Sabine. Anna couldn’t read her at all. She was struggling to understand everyone and everything around her. Perhaps other people’s lives had this level of uncertainty always, and Anna had managed to craft herself a life of predictability. Had her way of life become so routine, so constrained, that some part of her had seized the chance to walk away? Had she taken Charlie in order to leave that old life behind?

I
t was only mid-morning, but already the heat and humidity pressed down on everything, muting even the bird noise. Anna lay on the grass under the mulberry tree, looking through the big glossy leaves to the blue. Charlie sat on a low branch, one arm hooked around the trunk, walking her wooden koala along a twig.

Anna had cut her own hair that morning, chopping away in front of the bathroom mirror, long hanks of hair falling to the floor behind her. Charlie had picked up the hair and let it slide through her fingers. Anna wanted to cut her hair into a bob but as she tried to even it up, it got shorter and shorter until it was just beneath her ears. In the end she tied a scarf around her head to hide the mess.

Charlie pointed her koala towards the forest. ‘What’s that?’

A child’s voice came from the trees. ‘Wait! Wait for me!’

Two of Beatie’s kids appeared on the path near the shed. It was the oldest boy and the girl. The boy was bare-chested again, and the girl wore a dress and long red cape that trailed on the ground. They stopped at the veggie patch to pick cherry tomatoes.

The boy flopped onto the grass beside Anna. ‘Hi,’ he said. He had muddy feet and a smear of fresh blood on his shin.

‘Hello,’ said Anna.

The girl stood, eating a tomato, twisting a hand in her velvet cape, and said to Charlie, ‘You have a hurt arm.’

Charlie climbed down from the tree and sat close to Anna.

‘Yes, she does,’ said Anna, and looped an arm around Charlie’s shoulders.

‘Have you been to the cave up the top?’ the boy asked and flicked a grass seed off his knee.

‘I think I know the one,’ said Anna. Pat had taken her up there once and they had to edge along a narrow path across a cliff face.

The boy leant forward to look past Anna to Charlie. ‘We can take you sometime if you like.’ He gave her a dazzling smile. ‘It has a sand floor and high roof, and you can see over the whole valley! It’s my hideout and I even slept up there with Dad once.’

His sister crossed her arms. ‘Mum’s waiting for sugar, Macky.’

The boy smiled at Anna. ‘Zeb spilt it so we can’t make the lemon cake. What’s your name?’

She hesitated. ‘Anne.’ She should have a different name ready.

‘I thought it was Anna.’

‘Anne or Anna. Why did you ask if you already knew?’

‘I wanted to check if it was you who knows my mum.’

‘That’s me. But from years ago.’

He nodded and gazed steadily at her. He was so self-assured. Was it real or put on? Anna remembered acting confident with adults when she was a kid, because she knew that’s what they liked.

A distant chainsaw buzzed. It would be Pat, who’d disappeared up the hill before Anna and Charlie got out of bed. He’d left Anna a note on the kitchen table:
I’ll take you up to the cottage this afternoon
.
All sorted.
She couldn’t wait to get there.

‘You were Pat’s girlfriend.’

Beatie must have told him.

‘That’s right. A long time ago.’

Could Sabine hear them from the house? When Anna had fried up French toast for breakfast, she’d heard Sabine moving about in the bedroom but she didn’t come out. Perhaps Pat had told her Anna wanted to stay for a month.

The boy’s sister wandered up the steps and into the kitchen.

He stood in one fluid motion. He had the mindless grace Anna remembered of Luke at the same age.

‘Come over to the verandah,’ he said to Charlie. ‘I’ll show you the carving I did on the post.’

On the verandah, Anna sat beside Charlie on the bench. The boy pointed to a small face gouged into a verandah post. It was a lopsided gargoyle with a big mouth.

‘I’m still learning,’ he said. ‘Pat-Pat’s teaching me. We’re going to make this a totem pole. Do you know what a totem pole is?’

Charlie pointed at the boy’s thin wrist. ‘What’s that?’

He fingered the leather-and-bead thong. ‘I made it.’ He sat beside her and untied it with a quick twist. ‘You can have it if you like.’

She took a sharp breath and smiled at Anna.

The boy tied it around her wrist. ‘Your wrist’s much smaller than mine,’ he said. ‘How old are you?’

‘Five.’

‘Claudy’s five.’ He gestured into the house. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Charlie.’

‘What did you do to your arm?’ He pointed to the bandage.

‘I fell down the stairs.’

He nodded matter of factly. ‘I’ve broken my arm twice.’

Sabine appeared in the doorway, a hand on Claudy’s shoulder. She looked like she’d been asleep, her face creased and hair messy.