Page 12 of The Vanishing Place

Dad was gone again when Effie woke up.

There was a big cold space on the sofa, the warmth of him gone too. But Effie didn’t run from the hut. She didn’t scream at the bush. Dad was real gone this time. She could feel it in her chest, like a hole had opened up. And no amount of screaming would bring him back.

Effie pulled herself up from the sofa and walked around to the kitchen. Dad was gone and now June was there—like a gift he’d left for them. A stupid early Christmas present.

Effie didn’t speak, and June didn’t try to make her. They stood side by side, washing dishes and putting them away. June didn’t know the right places for the bowls or the cutting boards, and she used the wrong towel.

But then, Mum was dead, so what did it matter?

The baby was asleep in the corner (June had assembled Aiden’s old cot), and the young ones were sleeping in the nook. Effie didn’t know where June had slept; she didn’t want to think about it.

Once Effie had dried Four’s bottle, she walked outside and sat on the deck. After a few minutes, June followed her.

“This is for you,” she said, handing Effie a small package. “Lewis left it at my house.”

June smiled and walked back inside, leaving a cup of mint tea for Effie. It was annoying that June was being so nice. Effie didn’t want nice. She wanted something to scream at.

She opened the gift—a single shell threaded onto a black waxed string—and placed it over her head. Staring at the trees, she held the shell between her fingers and moved it along the string.

“Mum and Dad are gone, Lewis.”

She rubbed her forearm across her face, as close to crying as she’d been. But she blinked the tears away. She wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t some stupid blubbering little girl.

—

Four days passed before Effie spoke to June. She mumbled answers to all her stupid questions—about the greenhouse and what the young ones ate and how to get water—but she never proper spoke to her. Aiden, however, clung to June’s legs like a mussel, and Tia talked at her continuously.

“How did you get here?” Effie asked eventually.

June sat on the sofa after putting the baby down, then she looked at Effie as if they chatted all the time.

“Well,” she said, thinking. “Your dad appeared at my house that night, around nine or ten. It was just getting dark. He must have practically run down that valley with Aiden. I doubt he even stopped to take a breath. Your dad said he managed to catch a ride at the falls and made the whole trip in five hours.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Just the walk alone took us nearly double that on the way back. I have a bit of trouble with my right knee, you see.”

“Dad stayed at your house?”

“Well, not really. He left Aiden so the boy could sleep for a few hours, then…” She hesitated. “Then he went to the shop for supplies and a couple of—”

“On the Spot?”

“Yes. It was late, and I tried to get Jonathon on the phone, but he wasn’t answering so—”

“Dad broke in.” Effie frowned.

“Well, yes.” June looked almost guilty. “But he needed stuff for the baby. And I’m sure he left money.”

“Then what?”

“Then we headed back here. Your dad can’t have slept for more than a couple of hours. We set off at 6 a.m., and I drove us out to the falls. Then we took your family’s tinnie across the river and walked in.”

“And Dad dug a hole for Mum.”

“Yes,” she said softly. She moved her hand across the sofa toward Effie’s leg. “Then he buried your mum.”

For a long moment, it was quiet.

“Thanks,” said Effie eventually. “For the lolly cake.”

Then she got up and walked toward the bedroom nook.

Two more days passed before Effie asked June another question, when they were hanging nappies to dry outside.

“Why did Dad leave us?”

June paused, her arms reaching up to the line, then she turned.

“Oh, baby girl.”

She dropped the linen back into the basket and took a step toward Effie. Then June hugged her. Effie froze, keeping her arms glued to her sides as the warmth and the pressure and the smell of perfume wrapped her up.

“Your dad has his own secrets, sweetie.” June swallowed, like she was trying not to cry, then she pulled away. “Things that make this even harder for him. Things that make everything harder for him.”

Effie snorted and scuffed at the ground with her foot. “Dad said it was his dream,” she muttered, “to live in the bush, away from everything. Just him and Mum and his stupid vegetable garden.”

“You don’t like it here?”

Effie shrugged. “Mum said the world was changing too much, with phones and TV and the internet, and all that other modern crap. Mum wanted to live like Heidi, you know, the weird girl who liked goats.”

June smiled. “I loved that story.”

“It’s a stupid story. No kid can be that good all the time.”

“True.”

“And I like TV.” Effie picked at her sleeves. “Do you think Dad’s a good man?”

“Yes.” June stepped closer and held Effie’s shoulders, their faces level. “Yes. Your dad is a good man, and don’t you believe anyone who says otherwise.”

Effie looked at her, at her wrinkled eyes and her white hair, and wanted to believe her. But Lewis was her best friend—her only friend—and Effie couldn’t un-remember what he’d told her.

She couldn’t forget the otherwise thing that Lewis had said.