Promise (30 page)

What the hell was she doing?

‘Who’s your GP?’ the doctor asked.

‘Oh. We d–d–don’t really have one,’ said Anna.

Pat laid his hand on her arm. He was telling her to relax.

‘But you live up here?’ The doctor looked down at the clipboard.

‘Yes. We do now. I have to find a GP. So, we’re okay to leave?’

‘When did you move up here?’ The doctor stared at Anna.

‘Only a few weeks ago.’

‘So you came from where? Sydney?’

‘Yes.’

She was suspicious, Anna knew it. Had she been looking at the internet? Had she called the police, and was trying to keep them there until the cops arrived? They needed to get out of there, now.

She heard a vehicle pull up outside, in what must be the ambulance bay. Anna glanced at Pat but he was watching the doctor. A car door slammed. She should just stand up right now and walk out of there with Charlie in her arms.

The doctor frowned. ‘Hmm. I see that you’ve mislaid your Medicare card.’

‘I left it at home.’ Anna moved the blanket to one side and swung her legs from the bed.

‘I see. Have you got Panadol or Nurofen at home?’

‘Panadol.’

‘Well, you’re right to go,’ said the doctor. ‘If she’s uncomfortable because of the fever, or it’s stopping her drinking and eating, then give her some Panadol. Just follow the directions on the bottle. The main thing is to keep the fluids up . . .’

Even as she reeled off directions she must have given hundreds of times before, she was watching Anna, narrow-eyed.

Anna stood up and whispered to Charlie, ‘Put your arms around my neck.’

They could be in the ute in a couple of minutes.

‘So, we’ll give you this sheet to take home. Keep her hydrated and I’ll just note on it when she last had a dose of Nurofen, okay?’ The doctor scribbled something on the paper.

‘Thank you.’

The doctor looked at Anna for a long moment, then handed her the sheet. There was a sudden flurry of activity on the other side of the ward and the doctor strode away.

Pat walked ahead of Anna, through the waiting room and down the corridor, out into the cool night air.

Charlie lay on the seat of the ute with her head on Anna’s lap, her feet on Pat’s lap. Anna wound down the window to the warm breeze and turned to look out the back window, in case there was a cop car behind them. But they’d probably come from the other direction.

‘Did you think the doctor was suspicious?’ she asked.

‘Well. You were acting a bit strange . . . but yeah, she did seem a bit overly attentive or something.’

‘Did you give your licence plate when you signed in?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘Once we’re out of town, we’ll be right, then.’

The streets were quieter now, and streetlights lit up small patches of road and trees and shopfronts. Neither of them spoke. There was just the sound of tyres on the road and the warm night air. Once out of town they sped between the dark paddocks, the squat shape of the range just visible ahead.

Anna looked down and saw that Charlie’s eyes were open, looking out the window at the sky. Anna could feel each breath move in and out of the girl’s body, that timeless rhythm. She thought of all the women who had held and loved children for centuries, for eons, and wondered how many of those women weren’t mothers but aunts, grandmothers, sisters, nannies, wet nurses.

T
wo days later, on a morning of bucketing rain, Michael knocked on the cottage door. ‘The baby’s here.’ He grinned.

‘Already?’

He nodded and reached under his black plastic poncho and handed Anna three passionfruit.

‘It’s a boy. Pat said if you want to come down, you’re welcome.’

Charlie skipped in a circle around the living room. ‘The baby’s here! The baby’s here! He’s my cousin, isn’t he?’

Anna nodded and wished that Sabine had simply said,
No you’re not related to the baby
, rather than promising something she didn’t mean.

The mood at Pat’s house was very quiet and soft. Anna and Charlie stood dripping on the verandah and Beatie brought them towels. She whispered, ‘Sabine’s sleeping. I’m just making them some bread and casseroles.’

Pat emerged from the spare room with the baby sleeping in his arms. The baby was wrapped in white muslin, with a small scrunched face and a head of dark hair. Pat looked tired and unshaven, but his eyes were dreamy.

Anna reached under her t-shirt for the soft doll they’d sewn, using fabric from one of Charlie’s op-shop dresses.

‘Do you want to give this to the baby?’ she asked Charlie.

‘Come and sit on the bench outside,’ whispered Pat. Anna sat beside him and Charlie climbed onto her lap. The rain fell in a gentle drizzle at the edge of the verandah. The clothesline to Anna’s right was filled with towelling nappies.

‘This is for the baby,’ said Charlie and carefully placed the doll on the muslin wrap.

‘Thank you,’ said Pat. ‘When he’s awake, I’ll give him a good look at it.’

His hands looked enormous and awkward holding the baby. Anna tried to imagine her own dad holding her like this once.

‘Do you have a name for him?’ she asked.

‘Oscar.’

‘Hello, Oscar,’ said Anna, and gently touched one of the baby’s little pink fists, curled near his face. ‘How did the birth go?’

‘It was long. Pretty rough.’ Pat’s voice dropped away for a moment. ‘Sabine was amazing.’

He looked like he was about to cry.

Charlie rested her head on Anna’s shoulder to look at the baby. ‘He’s got no eyebrows,’ she said.

Pat nodded. ‘That’s true. I hadn’t noticed. I guess they’ll grow.’

He reached into his shirt pocket and passed Charlie a thumbnail-sized wooden baby doll. ‘This is for you.’

She closed her hand around it and smiled up at him.

Pat stroked his son’s bare arm with a tender finger. Even though this baby wouldn’t recall his father touching him today, that caress would be stored somewhere in him. Just as every single touch of Anna’s mother must be in her, somewhere. She ran her hand down Charlie’s warm back, over and over, determined that Charlie would remember this.

T
he next day was sunny, and Anna and Charlie headed to the creek. Anna carried the cake and present in a bag.

Charlie skipped ahead of her and called back, ‘Will we do the cake straightaway?’

‘No. We’ll do it after a swim.’

They’d agreed that today must be Charlie’s sixth birthday, as the girl had no idea when her birthday was, and had told Anna she’d never had a birthday party or cake. Anna had sat up late sewing more clothes for the wooden dolls: a tutu made of scraps of tulle that Beatie gave her, and a white dress that Anna was afraid looked a little too much like a wedding gown.

They walked through the old forest, which still dripped with rain. The creek had dropped back between the banks, leaving tangled sticks and grass at the high-water mark and caught on the bridge.

‘Happy birthday, Charlie!’ Macky shouted as he approached through the trees, Zeb and Claudy trailing behind him. When he reached Charlie, he handed her a red paper package tied with string.

Charlie grinned. ‘Can I open it now?’

He nodded.

She tore the package open. He’d made her two wooden boats, each with a blue cloth sail. ‘Me and Dad tested them yesterday, in the rain, and they sail really well.’

The kids stood on the bridge and dropped Charlie’s boats in, then raced along the bank to see which boat made it to the pool first.

Anna sat the cake on a plate and used a knife to spread cream over it. She made a 6 in the cream using the small strawberries Beatie had given her, and poked in the candles.

Charlie scampered along the edge of the creek, her legs strong as she leapt from boulder to boulder to reach the waterhole.

‘Yes!’ she crowed. ‘My boat won!’

She carried the dripping boat back to the bridge and Anna wondered if Charlie blithely assumed that her life would go on like this forever.

Anna lit the candles and the wet kids clustered around to shield the flames from the breeze. They sang ‘Happy Birthday’ and Charlie sang along too, then they ate cake around the fire. Anna heated up a pot of hot chocolate and handed Charlie the package of dolls’ clothes.

She examined each little garment then looked up and whispered, ‘Thank you, Anna.’ She placed them carefully on the log beside her, next to the two wooden boats.

•

At lunchtime Anna made damper with flour and salt and water. The kids each found a stick to wind their dough around, then held the stick over the coals. Charlie kept letting hers drop down into the coals so Anna rigged a little rest for her stick.

Anna laid out butter and honey from Pat’s hives. She remembered him feeding Charlie honey the first day they turned up. It was hard to believe that was only three months ago.

‘I wish we had sausages,’ said Zeb. ‘A sausage would fit perfect in the stick hole.’

‘With tomato sauce,’ said Claudy.

Macky looked at Anna. ‘Someone’s been up in my cave. A guy.’

‘Who?’ asked Zeb as he inspected a burnt patch on his damper.

Anna asked, ‘Do you know him?’ She tried to sound casual but felt like a hand had grabbed her stomach.

Macky shook his head. ‘Nah. I thought maybe he’d moved in over the hill. Over at Walt and Merry’s place.’

‘What did he look like?’

Macky turned his damper around to cook the other side. ‘He had binoculars.’

Zeb said, ‘Mine’s cooked. Give me the honey, Charlie.’

‘There’s a drownded bee in the honey!’ said Charlie, holding the jar up in the air.

Macky said, ‘He was just looking down into the valley. Towards your place.’

‘When was this?’ said Anna. She felt completely alert now, and glanced over to where the path disappeared into the trees.

‘Yesterday.’

‘Did he see you?’

‘Nah. No way. It was raining. He didn’t see me.’ He laughed lightly.

‘How long was he there for?’

‘I don’t know. He had a fancy water bottle thing. He sucked the water from a tube and the water came from down here.’ Macky reached over to tap his back.

‘Why?’ asked Zeb.

‘So he doesn’t have to carry a bottle.’ Macky raised his eyebrows. ‘How cool’s that?’ He pulled his damper from the fire and tested to see if the dough would twist off. ‘Mine’s ready.’

He glanced up at Anna. ‘He didn’t look like he was from around here.’

She could tell by the way he held her gaze that he knew something was not right.

A
nna put Charlie to bed then stepped outside to look up the hill towards the cave. She couldn’t imagine a local wandering around with binoculars and a fancy water backpack. Maybe the doctor at the hospital had called the cops. Or maybe Anna’s dad had finally told them where she was. But if this guy in the cave was a cop, that meant the cops knew where Anna was – and surely they would have already turned up? Anna peered into the shadowy forest. Anyone or anything could hide in there.

She woke in the night, not sure if she’d just gone to sleep or if hours had passed. Had a noise woken her? She lay there listening hard, and stared out the window at the pale smudges of the tree trunks. Charlie slept sprawled on her back, arms above her head. Anna watched the girl’s face in the faint moonlight, the curve of her forehead, dark lashes and the barely discernible puff of her breath.

•

In the morning, they lay in bed reading
Milly-Molly-Mandy
, then made pikelets.
See
, Anna told herself,
everything is fine
. The man on the hill was just a neighbour or bird watcher.

Charlie carried the plate of pikelets outside and they sat on the steps in the dappled light.

‘Why is the blue boat so much faster?’ asked Charlie.

Anna drank her tea. ‘I don’t know. Maybe its shape?’

Charlie cocked her head. ‘Can you hear that car?’

‘No. Where?’ Anna stood, her ears straining.

The girl waved towards the other side of the house. ‘Over there.’

Anna couldn’t hear anything over the cacophony of bird calls. Then she caught a foreign sound, coming from the direction of the blocked-off driveway. It was a car. Her breath left her in a long involuntary exhalation. It was either the mad neighbour or the cops. She could hear it clearly now, the engine grinding up the last steep section. Whoever was driving that car would get only as far as the fence and fallen tree. Anna and Charlie had a couple of minutes to get out of there.

She reached for Charlie’s hand. ‘Come with me.’

‘I need to put more honey on the pikelets.’ Charlie picked up the honey jar.

‘Come with me, Charlie. That car has someone in it we don’t want to see.’

Charlie unscrewed the lid.

Anna bent and grabbed Charlie’s hand. ‘Quick, Charlie. Come, now.
Please
. I’ll explain it more in a moment.’

Charlie snatched three pikelets from the plate before Anna hurried her along the edge of the clearing. They would be within sight of anyone walking up from the driveway.

‘Quick, quick,’ said Anna. Just a few more metres. She found a narrow pademelon path and pulled Charlie into the forest. If she crouched, she could see through the bushes to the cottage.

Charlie leant against her and whispered, ‘Who is it?’ Her fingers were honey-sticky on Anna’s arm.

‘I’m not sure.’

She couldn’t hear the car anymore. Could the family who owned the house have come back to collect some things? But they wouldn’t drive on the mad neighbour’s land. Pat said that they came in and out of his place. She fixed her eyes on the house, a tight clutching sensation in her belly. Everything was perfectly still. She took a slow, deep breath to try to steady herself.

‘There!’ said Charlie through a mouthful of pikelet.

A woman and man walked around the corner of the cottage. They were about Anna’s age, both in dark suit pants and jackets. They had to be detectives.

They’d been found.

Anna gripped Charlie’s hand. They had to get out of there now.

‘What’s wrong?’ whispered Charlie.