Page 14 of The Vanishing Place

Effie scribbled on a piece of paper as June and Tia played cards at the table.

June had brought three packs with her, and Tia played Uno about fifty times a day. There was some wild card that seemed to let you do whatever you wanted. And it was obvious that June was letting her sister win. Which, Effie reckoned, made the point of playing pretty stupid.

“You can’t do that.” Tia giggled. “It has to be green. Not blue!”

“Silly me. What about this?”

“No.” Tia snorted. “That’s red.”

“I don’t think I have any green,” said June, putting on a ridiculous fake frown.

Tia reached over the table and peeked at June’s cards. “You do,” she squealed. “You do. Look.” She pulled at June’s cards. “It’s hiding.”

Effie rolled her eyes. They should have been out fishing or foraging for berries, not playing card games. They hadn’t had eel or trout in weeks. June was rubbish at bush stuff. Useless as, Dad would say. But then, Dad was gone, so he was useless as too.

June wouldn’t let Effie go spin fishing by herself, or even set up the net—she didn’t want a kid whacking a fish’s brains and insides out.

But it wasn’t exactly hard; Effie had watched her mum and dad do it hundreds of times.

Dad took Effie fishing all the time—even let her do the gutting—and Effie always helped Mum with the smoker.

Smoked trout was the best. Much better than June’s hard bread and lentils. June was obsessed with lentils.

“Do you want to join in?” asked June.

“Nah. I’m good,” Effie mumbled.

June had nearly choked on a mouthful of lentil slop when Effie suggested hunting, the conversation over before it had even started.

June had been there for about four weeks and she’d almost killed them twice.

She’d tried to feed them tutu, thinking it was asparagus or supplejack or something.

She’d boiled it up and chucked it in with the vegetables from the garden.

Just a couple of bites and that would have been all of them dead.

Gone. Dad said that just one tutu shoot had once killed two circus elephants.

Two .

Then, the other day, June had taken all of them for a walk to get some fresh air and exercise.

Which was mental. They lived in the bush—fresh air was literally everywhere.

Effie hadn’t been paying attention to the markers—she’d been too grumpy—and they’d got lost. The dense bush had become tricky and unrecognizable, and they hadn’t found their way back until sunset, starving, thirsty and covered in sandfly bites.

Aiden had itched until he bled. He was still covered in angry red bumps.

Effie tiptoed over to the sleeping nook. She pulled back the curtain and peered in. Aiden was spread out on his mattress with his arms above his head, and Four was sleeping next to him. June was good with baby stuff though. She was good with Four.

“Right, you two.” June stood up. “Let’s see how our feast is coming along.”

“Yay.” Tia bounced up. “Then presents!”

“After lunch.” June smiled.

The smells in the hut were incredible, so good that it was making Effie’s stomach hurt.

It was Christmas Day, Mum’s favorite day, and June had been cooking since the morning.

Effie had helped her bring in the last deer leg from the outside meat safe, the remains of Dad’s final spring kill.

Effie had chopped and trimmed the meat for a stew.

She’d held the foot between her legs, just like Dad did, and tried to remember everything he’d taught her.

Large chunks first, then trim. June had watched in silence, none of her mutterings or gasps, then she’d placed a hand on Effie’s shoulder.

“Your mum would be proud.”

It was the best thing that had happened in a month.

—

Two hours later, after Four had been fed and changed and put back down—babies slept a crazy amount—the rest of them sat around the table.

They’d set out two wooden stools and a thin bench.

In the center was a pot of venison stew, a large bowl of rice, and a plate of steamed chard and broad beans from the garden.

June had also made them each a small flower crown; she was better with flowers than fish. Mum would have loved all of it.

“Right,” said June, holding her hands out. “Shall we say grace?”

Tia frowned, already reaching across the table for the rice, then slunk back. “What’s grace?”

“It’s where we thank God for our meal.”

“But”—Tia’s frown deepened—“you made it. Why would we thank him?”

“It’s just a nice way of—”

“Dad says God’s not real,” said Tia. “But Mum growls at him when he says that. She says it’s disgraceful to God people.”

“Disrespectful,” offered Effie.

“Well,” said June, “people can believe in different things.”

“What do you believe in?” asked Tia.

Effie turned to look at June. Mum and Dad didn’t talk about God stuff. It made Dad angry.

“Well…” June paused, thinking. “I’m not sure I know exactly.”

“Then why were you going to thank him?”

She laughed. “How about we just thank the bush instead?”

“Thank you bush for beans and stew,” Tia said. Then she reached for the spoon and started serving herself.

Effie smiled. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was Christmas, or the meat, or the fact that June had a tin of peaches and creamed rice for dessert.

But she felt a tiny bit less dark. The feeling continued through lunch—well, more like dinner by the time the stew had finally cooked—and when they sat down for presents, it was more than just her stomach that felt warm and full.

June had made Effie and Tia a small journal each, using scraps of paper sewn together with string.

She’d decorated the covers with pressed ferns.

She’d also sewn them each a summer dress from a floral sheet she’d found in Mum’s room.

As Tia twirled in her new dress, and Aiden spun and giggled with her, Effie slipped a small flat package across the table toward June.

Inside, wrapped up in a dried leaf, was a pair of Mum’s earrings—two silver ramarama leaves.

“Don’t open it now,” said Effie, without looking at her.

Mum said ramarama were beautiful but hardy shrubs, just like her kids. But Mum was gone, and her siblings needed June now.

“Thank you.” June pressed the small gift to her chest. Then she reached into her pocket. “I’ve got one last thing for you and Tia. But perhaps you might keep them for now, until your sister’s a little older.”

June placed a small box in the center of the table, the cardboard so worn that it had lost its shape.

“One belonged to your mother, and the other…” June paused, her eyes stuck on the little box. “The other used to belong to your grandmother.”

“The one who died?”

“Yes.” June blinked and cleared her throat. “Yes, baby girl.”

“Can I open it?”

June nodded and Effie picked it up. She undid the single piece of ribbon and removed the lid.

Her heart pumped as she lifted out the two pounamu stones, both on strings of silver.

Effie held the jade swirls in her palm. The stones were perfect, no darks spots or flaws, and their color was as green and vibrant as the trees.

“Kahurangi greenstone,” Effie whispered, hearing her dad’s words. “It means ‘precious treasure.’?” She looked up. “The West Coast is the only place in the world that you can find it.”

“Yes.” June reached over and moved the two pendants. “And when you put the two swirls together like this, they form a heart.”

Effie stared at the green heart, her own heart still pounding, like something in the stone was calling to her.

“Thank you,” she said, the words little more than a whisper.

June squeezed Effie’s wrist. “They belong to you.”

—

That night, Effie helped June bathe the boys in the big bucket on the floor.

Aiden took up the whole thing; just his nose and forehead popped out of the top when he sat down.

But Four was like a little fish in a pond, a chubby white blob, apart from the purple birthmark on his neck.

It was strange how tiny and huge a four-week-old human could be.

He was so small in his cot and in the bath, but when he screamed and demanded to be held, the sound filled the whole hut.

Tia wiped her arms and face with a cloth, still in her dress and still chatting.

Effie and Tia had been excused from baths that night, it being Christmas.

And girls, Effie was utterly certain, smelled a lot less.

They also hadn’t made a trip to the river that day, so the water was running low.

Effie hated sloshing buckets up from the river; it rubbed her hands raw and wet her clothes.

Hopefully it would rain overnight and the roof drums would fill up again.

It had been odd, a week of no rain. It always rained in the bush.

As soon as the three young ones were in bed, Effie helped with the last few dishes, then she hurried into her parents’ room.

She’d started going in there now to feel close to Mum, to lie on the bed and tell her all sorts of things.

June didn’t mind, as long as Effie didn’t make a mess of things and didn’t get dirt on the sheets.

June didn’t go to bed till dark, so Effie could also use the room for reading and drawing in her notebook.

Effie crouched down and lay on the floor, then she squeezed under the bed.

She knew exactly where she was going to keep Mum’s necklaces—a secret spot that only she and Tia knew about now.

Right at the back, she dug her fingers under the loose floorboard and lifted it up. Then she placed the small box inside.