The Boy Under the Table (27 page)

Tina didn’t want to touch them but to please Sammy she ran her hand over a brown and white body, her mind on what was happening in the house.

Pete wandered over to the fence and stood next to her. ‘I reckon we’ll give them some time in there. I hope she’ll be okay—his mother, I mean.’

‘I think she’ll be more than okay.’

‘There are a lot of questions. We’ve been looking for this boy for four months. We had a call from the city about that house with all the dead kids . . . I didn’t think Doug would survive it. I don’t think he said anything to Sarah.’

‘I read about it,’ said Tina, giving nothing away.

‘I thought it would finally kill her if Lockie turned out to be one of them. She couldn’t have taken it.’

Tina thought about the idea of how much a person could take. People only survived because they turned the real into the surreal. If it was outside your comprehension you didn’t have to deal with it, to feel it.

If you woke up each morning and thought that it had all been a bad dream, then you fell into the darkness of the truth. But if you simply pretended it hadn’t happened you didn’t need to deal with it at all.

She had tried that for a while after Tim. She would walk into a room, knowing that he wasn’t in there, and she would say to herself, ‘I wonder where Tim has got to. I’ll look for him in a little while.’ And then she would eat dinner or watch television or do some homework and she would not think about it and she would get through that hour, that day, that night.

But shit came back to get you in your dreams. She would wake up shaking and sweating and even without being able to remember the dreams she would know what they were about.

Once she made it to the Cross, sleeping during the day had helped. For some reason the nightmares could not find her during the day. Complete exhaustion helped as well.

In the garden with her hand on a cow, Tina felt like she could sleep on her feet, despite the cold. If she did manage to find a bed then she would be safe from the dreams. Her brain would just switch off.

Pete was looking at her, waiting for something, anything.

Tina met his stare. He deserved an answer. They all did.

‘I haven’t had him for four months. I’ve only had him for a few days. He asked me to take him home and I have.’

‘Simple as that?’

‘No. No, so much more complicated—but I’m so tired, Pete. I’m not going anywhere. If I could just stay somewhere in town or something for a few days I’ll tell you the details, but I’m so . . . so . . .’

To her surprise Tina was crying. She wasn’t just choked up she was actually crying. The tears came while she talked. They ran down her face as if she were overflowing. Inside her a hole had opened up. She had held herself together for so long but here was this hole and the longing for Tim and her family leaked out into her soul and her body spilled it onto the cold soil in the garden.

The tears kept coming and eventually Tina had to cover her face. She was ashamed to cry in front of this man and this child.

‘All right, all right,’ said Pete, giving her an awkward pat on the back. ‘Don’t upset yourself, luv. Lockie obviously likes you so you must have done something right. We’ll talk in a few days.’

‘You can stay in my room,’ said Sammy, seeing adventure in everything. ‘I’ve got a pink bunk bed and you can sleep on the bottom. I can move my toys.’

‘Thanks, Sammy. My name’s Tina, by the way.’

‘My name’s Samantha.’

Tina smiled and sniffed. ‘Yeah, I know. Lockie told me.’

‘Lockie got lost.’

‘Yeah, he did.’

‘But you found him.’

‘I think we kind of found each other.’

The air turned up the chill and darkness crept into the garden.

‘I’m cold,’ said Sammy.

‘Do you think we can go inside?’ asked Tina.

‘I reckon we don’t have a choice. I don’t know how they’re going to feel about you . . . you know, staying, but you can come home with me. We’ve got plenty of space.’

‘Thanks, Pete.’

They moved towards the house as a little group. Doug came outside and stood on the porch. He nodded at Pete. ‘Beer, mate?’

‘Christ, yes.’

‘And you—what about you . . . Sorry, I don’t know your name.’

‘It’s Tina.’

‘Can I get you something to drink, Tina?’

‘Um, yeah . . . Could I have a Coke or coffee or something?’ ‘We don’t have Coke but I can do a coffee.’

‘That’d be great, thanks.’

‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Yeah, thanks.’

The living room held two worn leather couches. A gas fire burned brightly, filling the space with warmth and mellow light. Tina sighed gratefully and felt her body begin to thaw. She didn’t want to take off her coat. In this house, with these people, she was ashamed of what she looked like.

Pete watched her for a while and then Tina heard him whispering to Doug in the kitchen where coffee was being made.

A minute later Doug came in to the room holding a jumper.

‘Ah, Pete said, well he . . . ah, this is mine and it’ll be a bit big, but . . .’

‘Yeah,’ said Tina, smiling and taking the jumper. ‘Thanks.’

In the bathroom she pulled the jumper over her head. It hung below her knees. She didn’t look in the mirror. She knew she looked like shit but she would worry about that tomorrow.

Doug came into the lounge room with the coffee and Sammy trailed behind him holding two beers.

After she had handed Pete and her father a beer each she ran back to the kitchen and came out with a juice bottle with characters from
The Little Mermaid
painted on the side.

Only the sound of liquid being swallowed filled the room.

‘So,’ said Doug, clearing his throat. ‘I . . . I don’t really know who you are . . .’ He wasn’t looking at Tina; he was looking past her.

‘Tina found Lockie,’ said Sammy. ‘And then she bringed him home.’

Doug took another swallow of beer and looked at Tina.

Tina nodded.

‘I’m sure Tina can fill us in later, Doug. Maybe even tomorrow. I could take her home with me and we could come back tomorrow.’

‘You found my boy?’ said Doug.

Tina nodded.

‘Was he in that man’s house?’

Tina nodded again.

‘And you brought him home.’

Tina just stared at Doug now. She really wanted it to end there. She wasn’t going to keep any secrets but she didn’t really feel capable of words.

Fortunately, Doug accepted the silence.

‘You’ll stay here with us for a few days. You look tired. You’ll stay here.’

‘Thanks.’

‘We can make burgers for dinner,’ said Sammy. ‘They’re Lockie’s favourite.’

‘Right you are, little girl,’ said Doug.

‘It’s good that he’s home now,’ said Sammy.

‘It is,’ said Doug slowly. ‘And I think . . . I think that we are going to have to talk about a lot of stuff with you and Lockie. You know, about how we’re feeling. But we’ll get a good night’s sleep first. You can ask me anything you like Sam, about Lockie . . . you know.’

Doug sounded uncomfortable, as though the words didn’t quite fit in his mouth. Tina thought they would have come from his wife.

Tina wanted to meet her. And she wanted to see Lockie now that he was here where he belonged. Now that he was home.

Sarah

In the bedroom Sarah lay next to her son. She could hear movement in the kitchen and wondered if Doug had started preparing dinner.

She longed for something sweet to eat. She had not been hungry for days, for weeks, for months, but now, with her son lying near her, she wanted the taste of sugar on her tongue.

She would not move though. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to leave his side again.

Lockie’s breathing was deep and even. He was so tired but she would wake him soon. He needed to eat. He needed to eat and eat and eat.

Her hand was on his waist and she could feel his hipbones jutting through the washed-out pair of pants he was wearing.

The last four months tumbled through her mind. Images of herself and her family made her shiver. She saw Doug’s face and Sammy’s face and she saw her own terrible haunted face in the mirror. A small part of her had believed that the torment would never end, that they would be trapped in the grey area of not-knowing forever.

And now here he was.

He didn’t look like the Lockie she had taken to the Show. He was so skinny and his hair—what could have happened to his hair?

This was not the Lockie she knew but it was Lockie and he was here.

She wanted to start feeding him right now. Her instinct was to rush to the kitchen and gather everything she could and just sit and watch him eat, but she would wait. She had spent so much time trying to feed her children. Making sure they had the right amount of fruit and vegetables, weighing them when they were babies, measuring every change.

Lockie had been such a long skinny baby that every kilo he had managed to put on had felt like a triumph.

He had not said anything to her since arriving home except ‘Hi, Mum’ and ‘I got lost.’

Lockie had never been one for sharing his distress. Sarah remembered him at five after he had broken his wrist. He had only mentioned that it felt a little sore and she had watched him holding it gently, keeping it from harm, and she had known that it was broken.

Something inside Lockie was broken and she could see it in his eyes. She could feel it. She just knew that the story behind where he had been would be a terrible one.

The miracle of his return was the beginning of a long journey that her family would have to make together.

‘Something terrible has happened to him, Doug,’ she’d said when he stood to leave the room, after handing Lockie to her.

‘Sarah, you don’t . . .’ He stopped.

‘What?’

‘Pete called me about someone, some man. They found some kids buried in his backyard . . . I think he might have had Lockie.’

‘
What?
’

‘It’s . . . God, I can’t really explain it. I was going to tell you later.’

‘When?’

‘When we knew if Lockie was one of the dead ones or not.’

‘Jesus, Doug.’

‘Look, we’ll get there. Rest now. Be with him. I’ll take care of things.’

Sarah put the man and the other dead children out of her head. Later, perhaps, she would watch Lockie out in the garden and cry for all the mothers who would not see their children again. Later she would weep for the sadness of their loss and the joy of her own luck, but now she only had eyes for her boy, her little man, her Lockie.

She ran her hands over his body, lifted his shirt a little and caught sight of a yellowing bruise.

The air caught in her throat.

‘Oh Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,’ she whispered.

Someone had hit him. She wanted to undress him right then to see the damage but Lockie was so fast asleep. She knew he wasn’t just sleeping because he was tired. He had gone to the same place she had been in for months.

She and Lockie looked alike now. The angles on his face matched hers and in a way she was glad.

She had suffered along with him.

And now here he was.

Sarah pulled him closer to her and breathed in and out with her son, her boy, her Lockie. She sniffed at his hair which smelt faintly of cheap shampoo.

She would bathe him before he ate. She needed to see his body. She needed to touch his skin.

She didn’t know if she would ever be able to let go.

Tina

When Sarah and Lockie finally emerged from the bedroom Lockie was wearing pyjamas, a dressing gown and slippers. The pyjamas had creases in the legs, as if they were still new. His mother had bought him winter pyjamas even though she had lost him when the sun was still burning its way through an Australian autumn.

‘We’re making burgers, Lockie,’ said Doug as soon as he saw him. ‘Your favourite.’

Tina studied Sarah. She was almost as thin as her son.

There was a picture on the fridge of the family on a beach, probably on holiday. In the picture Sarah was wearing a long T-shirt. The kind that covers up any flaws women might feel they have. Her face was rounded and she had her son’s deep dimple.

Sarah sat Lockie down at the table and helped Doug hand out plates of homemade burgers with salad on the side.

Lockie looked at Tina and smiled his small smile and then he ate while the adults talked of the weather and the government as though they were at a dinner party.

Doug and Pete drank beer and Sarah had wine, but Tina was given juice like the children. She wanted to laugh. If they could have seen the things she was offered on a daily basis! But they hadn’t seen and they didn’t know. Tina was happy to keep it that way.

Lockie was not asked any questions. His mother ate, taking bites of food only when Lockie did. She did not take her eyes off her son. The whole table was focused on Lockie.

When he began cramming in the bites of burger Tina and Sarah both said, almost at the same time, ‘Slowly, Lockie.’

Lockie slowed down and Sarah looked at Tina and seemed to see her for the first time. They locked eyes and Sarah nodded slowly as if acknowledging Tina, acknowledging who she was to Lockie. Acknowledging what she had done. Lockie must have told her just as he had told Pete and his father.

Tina allowed herself the luxury of a smile and then she dropped her head and concentrated on the salad, savouring the fresh vegetables and the tang of the dressing, but mostly savouring the feeling of being with a family around a table.

Sammy kept up a conversation by herself. Anyone could join in or not, she didn’t seem to care. She told Lockie all about what had happened at school before the holidays and how good she was getting at riding Fairy Queen, her pony. Then she told him about a fight she’d had with her friend Jennifer.

‘She said you were never coming back and I said yes you were and then she said that her mum said you were probably deaded and then I cried but I also hit her and Mrs Watson came outside and gave us both time out on the reflection couch.’

Tina could see Doug and Sarah holding their breaths at this speech. How would Lockie react? There would be many moments like these for many months to come. Moments when Lockie’s four torturous months would be thrust into the light by a careless comment or question. Moments when they could lose Lockie forever if he chose to close the door and act like it hadn’t happened.