Page 16 of The Vanishing Place

This was mad. Totally and utterly mad.

Effie and the girl sat in the back seat of the ute, both silent, as June drove. The girl, still in the Frozen nightdress, hadn’t spoken to her again. If anything, she seemed more withdrawn, as though she regretted speaking to Effie at all.

Christ . Effie closed her eyes and bit into her cheeks.

Jesus effing Christ . She had a kid now—a living breathing human that she was apparently responsible for.

And what the hell she was meant to do with it—with her —she had no idea.

Bloody Lewis . Effie rubbed at her forehead, trying to alleviate the tension that had settled behind her eyes.

Eventually, Effie looked over at the kid.

Anya was hunched forward, her legs tucked to her torso, tugging at the hem of her nightdress, trying to stretch it down like it was the most important thing in the world.

The pounamu pendant tapped against the girl’s chest as she rocked.

And, as the ute turned a corner, Effie touched a hand to her own neck, to the other half of the greenstone heart.

“Where did you get that necklace?” she asked.

The girl turned and glared at her before pressing a finger to her lips. “Shh,” she hissed. “No talking.”

Effie forced a polite smile. “It’s not nice to talk to people like that.”

“Then stop talking to me.”

Effie flinched. “You can’t just tell—”

“Quiet,” she whispered. “You’re breaking the rules.”

“What rules?”

The child’s frown deepened and her green eyes narrowed. “You’re not very clever, are you?”

Effie glanced up at the rearview mirror, catching the hint of a smile on June’s face.

“Mum lied about you,” Anya said. Then she turned back to the window.

“What did you just say?” Effie grabbed the girl’s arm. “Who’s your mum? What did she lie about?”

The kid stared at Effie’s hand, and Effie jerked it back.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you. I just…your mum…what’s her name?”

Anya turned and started banging at the window, pounding her tiny fists into the glass. She pulled at the handle, scratching at it, and the door opened a fraction.

“Jesus.” Effie lurched over and pulled it closed. “What are you doing?”

“If you keep talking to me, I’ll jump out.” Her voice was cold.

Effie gawked, speechless.

It was June who spoke then. “It’s okay, kid. No more talking.”

—

The girl sat on the floor in June’s living room, rifling through the pile of clothes that the locals had dropped off.

She’d refused breakfast initially, standing in the kitchen doorway shaking her head until June suggested she might like to eat by herself in the living room, where no one would talk to her.

The porridge bowl, licked clean, sat upturned on the floor next to her as she divided the clothes into two piles.

“She only picks out the dresses,” said Effie.

June leaned on the doorway next to Effie, nursing a cup of tea in one hand.

“Strange,” said June, taking a sip from her mug. “You’d think that pants would have been more practical in the bush.”

Effie stared at the girl, not knowing what to do or say, her thoughts thick and heavy.

“I’m sorry,” said June, “that you and Lewis didn’t get a chance to talk properly. That can’t have been easy after—”

“It’s fine.” Effie cleared her throat. “I’m good. I’m fine.”

June grinned. “Well, that’s a lie, dear.”

“I’m not—”

June held her hands up. “No judgment here. Nothing wrong with a wee lie to get us through the tough stuff.”

June nodded as Anya lifted up a dark blue dress.

“How is he?” said Effie eventually. “Lewis, I mean. How’s he been?”

“You know what men are like. Never give much away.”

“But…” Effie picked at her fingers. “He’s happy? Settled?”

June’s expression was hard to place.

“You’d have to ask his wife that, love.”

Wife .

“Lewis is married?”

June’s eyes remained focused on the girl. “Charlotte. A nice girl. A primary teacher from Christchurch. They met when Lewis was working there.”

“Lewis lived in Christchurch?”

“Seventeen years is a long time, dear. Things change.”

Effie swallowed the shake in her voice. “He doesn’t wear a ring.”

“It’s complicated,” June said. “And long distance is hard.”

“She still lives in Christchurch?”

June nodded. “Koraha isn’t for everyone.”

“Why didn’t Lewis stay in Christchurch?”

June turned and looked at her. “You’d have to ask Lewis that.” She took another sip of her tea, then turned back to watch the girl. “Oh, I like that one. The green will go nicely with her hair.”

Anya placed the dress on top of the pile, and a quiet settled in the air.

“I think I might go for a run,” said Effie. “Fight off the jet lag. Would you mind…”

June squeezed Effie’s arm. “Off you go. We’ll be just grand.” She nodded at the keys on the kitchen bench. “Take the ute and head up to Monro Beach. It’s a nice path through the bush, and you’ll have the place to yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“Take a couple of hours,” said June. “I can call Lewis if I need anything. Then when you get back, we’re going to have to face this thing head-on.”

—

As the light splintered through the bush, Effie was a kid of seven years old again, encased in a sphere of green.

In a world of matai and kahikatea trees.

Huge ferns poured down from the skies, the dead fronds forming skirts around the thin trunks, the bark turned olive by a covering of moss and leaves.

Effie’s feet pounded into the ground as she sped up, trying not to put a face to Charlotte’s name, but her throat and lungs stung with the effort.

Lewis has a wife . Effie kept pushing until her head throbbed and her breath exploded in jagged gasps, and she spat into the dirt.

But she couldn’t outrun it—the thought of Lewis, and the images of what the girl might have witnessed.

The track started to climb slightly, the fire building in Effie’s calves. But she kept running, one foot in front of the other, her mind filled with Tia and the young ones as the path descended into a shallow gully. Tia was there, in her every breath.

What happened to you?

A threadlike stream trickled through the trees, following the path to the edge of the bush, then out into the vast swaths of sea.

Effie stopped when her feet reached the white sand, and held her arms out.

There was nothing. Just air and water and sand.

Empty enough that she could almost breathe.

The gray ocean mirrored the overcast sky, and rocky stacks rose from the stirring waves.

The water called to her, her heart drawn to the untamed beauty of the dark sea and the ashen sky.

Effie pulled off her shorts and T-shirt, swatting at the sandflies, then ran straight for the waves and the swirl of whitewash.

The force of the cold water slammed against her chest like a brick, shrinking her lungs, and she gasped at the air, but the oxygen couldn’t fill her body fast enough.

The swell pulled at her legs and Effie dove in, her body returning to the womb.

Submerged. Enclosed. She shut her eyes, the darkness absolute, and the waves calmed.

Beneath the surface, her body moved with the gentle swell, suspended, and her pulse slowed.

Not shivering. Not wet. Just boundless in her floating.

Numb to the blade of fear that had slipped between her ribs.

It wasn’t until she burst through the surface, craving air, that the fear rushed through her. A dread that came from a place far deeper than the ocean—that what the bush had left of her might not be enough. Effie could barely tolerate herself, let alone a child.

Effie stuck out her tongue, catching the specks of rain, then yelled at the sky. The breeze blew through her, chilling her skin, and she shouted again. Like if she screamed hard enough, all the hurt and darkness that she’d inherited from him might ebb away.

Finally, her throat prickling, she turned back to the beach. A tawaki penguin shuffled along the rocky headland, the distinctive yellow crest running above its eyes. Suddenly, the bird stopped, its white stomach puffed out, and stared at her.

“Hello,” Effie whispered.

Then it turned and slipped beneath the water.

Once she’d wiped herself down with her T-shirt, slapping the sandflies from her skin, Effie dressed and ran back to the ute.

Her heart was still thumping when she walked up the drive and unlocked June’s front door. She had barely stepped inside when twenty kilos of child hurled into her stomach, punching the air from her lungs.

“Lock the door,” shouted June.

The child was breathing fast, the panic and anger in her too much for her small frame.

Her forehead was shiny with sweat, and her long red hair stuck to her cheeks and neck.

Anya pushed at Effie with both hands and slapped at her chest, the door handle stabbing into Effie’s back.

Grimacing, Effie tried to focus on the girl, to melt the world away until it was just the two of them. Just a scared adult and a scared kid.

“Anya,” said Effie, her voice calm. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

The girl pulled at Effie’s T-shirt, not hearing her, not really there at all.

“You’re safe here.”

Effie wrapped her arms around the child and held her still until only her head continued to move, shaking from side to side.

“You’re safe,” Effie said again. “Take a breath. Just breathe.”

Effie glanced up, catching a glimpse of June and Lewis in the hall. Lewis took a step forward, but Effie shook her head.

These people are bad. We can’t trust them .

Holding Anya, Effie lowered them both to the floor. The child’s body had drained of fight, her limbs left defeated and motionless.

Effie rested her chin on Anya’s head and pulled her in, and gradually Anya’s eyelids fluttered shut. The poor kid was exhausted.

Without moving, Effie looked up at June. “What happened?” she mouthed.

“I don’t know.” June shook her head.

Effie frowned. “Something must have upset her.”

June let out a breath. “Everything was fine. She was sitting in the living room doing a jigsaw. It was incredible, she picked up this five-hundred-piece bird one, and she just started doing it. Then…” She hesitated, her eyes widening.

“That’s when I turned the TV on and…” June touched her fingers to her mouth. “She just…she went berserk.”

Effie looked down at the girl. “What was it?”

“Just the news,” said Lewis.