Page 22 of The Vanishing Place

The girl, barefoot and shivering, walked forward with her arm still outstretched and stopped in front of Effie.

Without a word, Effie removed her jacket and bent down to place it over Anya’s shoulders, the raincoat drowning her.

The child stood completely still as Effie fastened the top button, staring at her with such intensity that Effie had to force herself not to look away.

Then Anya slipped her cold fingers into Effie’s, and hand in hand, they walked back across the bridge.

Effie knew she was squeezing the child’s hand too tight, but she couldn’t help it.

If she loosened her grip, Effie was afraid she might lose her.

They had only made it ten meters when the lights of a vehicle filled the single-lane bridge. Anya didn’t run, but Effie felt her flinch.

The ute stopped a few meters in front of them, and June got out.

Effie raised her hand, preventing June from coming any closer, then she turned to Anya.

Effie touched her fingers to her mouth and pointed back at the ute.

I need to talk to June . Anya’s expression didn’t change, but she pulled her hand free and covered her ears.

“You okay?” asked June.

Effie nodded as she walked forward. “She wants to go back.”

“I know.” June sighed and a sad smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “She reminds me of Tia. Your sister was never happy in Koraha. Tia was born of bush and wildness, just like Anya.”

“But not me?”

“No.” Something unsaid hung in the creases of June’s face, but she blinked it away. “You were always meant to leave.”

Effie’s shoulders softened slightly, releasing a tension she hadn’t known was there. Like maybe Tia had needed to stay. Maybe Effie hadn’t failed her—hadn’t left her sister to die in the bush.

“Here.” June held up the keys to her ute. “Let’s get the two of you where you need to go.”

“What about Lewis?”

“Oh, he’ll be mad when he finds out.” June’s face softened. “But he’ll forgive you. Now, come on, there are spare clothes and food in the ute. Which, by the way, was not in my driveway this morning.”

“Oh god. Sorry, I—”

“Stole it,” June offered. “And left the keys in the ignition.” She raised an eyebrow. “There’s a backpack too, with enough stuff for a few days.”

“June, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Her eyes darkened. “We don’t know what you’re going to find out there.” She looked over Effie’s shoulder. “We’ve no idea what that poor kid was running from.”

Effie turned and looked at Anya, who was still covering her ears, then she held out her hand and the girl walked toward her.

“No,” Effie whispered. “We don’t.”

—

June parked the ute and Effie jumped out.

She didn’t know what she was meant to be feeling. The gurgling sound of the river filled the air, sucking the oxygen from it, and she touched a hand to her chest, her skin suddenly too tight.

After seventeen years, she was going back.

They started to untie the ropes looped around the roof.

They’d picked up a raft from a friend of June’s, then they’d driven the rest of the way in silence, with the raft whistling on the roof of the car.

Anya had stared out the window the entire way, lost in a silent sanctuary of her own.

Her body had stiffened when they’d pulled in to get the raft, but Effie had reached across the back seat and placed a hand between them.

Not touching. Not invading her space. Just letting the girl know.

A soft breeze blew across from the other side of the river, bringing the smells and memories of the bush with it.

The first time it had happened, Effie hadn’t done anything.

She’d stood silent as his little body was lowered into the dirt.

Her insides had screamed, hot with anger and hurt, but Dad had apologized over and over.

He told her that it would never happen again, that he hated himself for it.

The second time, Effie had run until her legs had folded, then she’d picked herself up, her body bruised and bloody, and she’d kept running, for almost two decades.

Effie’s fingers trembled as she undid the knot, and the raft slipped forward. She swore as she lunged to catch it.

“You ready?” asked June.

This time, she wasn’t going to stand silent.

“I need to do this.”

“I know, love.”

Effie glanced back at the ute, at the small vacant face pressed against the window, and took a breath.

What did you see? What did he do to you?

After setting the raft in the water, Effie and Anya got in.

The inflatable boat had two seats, but Anya sat on the floor in the middle, her knees tucked to her chest, and watched as Effie paddled away from the shore.

June stood on the bank until they were safely on the other side, then she waved and drove off.

It’s just us now, kid.

They walked up the steep unmarked terrain without talking, Effie leading the way.

Her eyes darted from one tree to the next, following some ingrained map.

The sounds and smells of the bush illuminated a dark spot in her memory, and her feet moved by instinct, finding the decades-old markers, the scraps of pink plastic that Dad had hung from trees.

It was as though the path had been carved beneath the surface of her skin and the hut was pulling her closer, whispering through the wall of trees.

A weak sunlight filtered through the hanging silver ferns, splintering into long misty shafts, and the fronds draped high above their heads, forming a ceiling of hexagons.

When Effie glanced up, it was like looking through a green kaleidoscope.

Every now and then, she turned and checked, but the girl was always there, following a few meters behind. The sound of her pushing through branches and snapping twigs was dwarfed by the high-pitched singing and ticking of birds and insects.

When Dad had walked them out, he used to distract them with Māori legends, and he always kept candy in his pockets.

He’d hide them, like a Hansel and Gretel trail, under ferns and on tree stumps, and the young ones would forget their tired legs.

But Anya hadn’t said a word in three hours; she hadn’t moaned once.

She walked without slowing, pausing only to untangle a scrap of linen that hung from a tree, a stray ribbon of white in a world of green.

Effie’s chest stung as she glanced back at her.

At the child who hadn’t complained about her tired legs—the pain nothing to the girl with ligature marks around her ankles.

Anya looked up, her eyes burrowing into Effie, and Effie pointed ahead.

We’ll stop up there .

They walked on for another ten minutes, the steep terrain leveling out, and Anya found a second scrap of material.

She teased it free from the branch and pocketed it without a word.

Old markers for hunters, most likely. Effie pushed the draping ponga aside and stepped over the vines and ferns that carpeted the forest floor.

In every direction, the air was thick with trees, making it impossible to see more than a few meters ahead.

The spines of kahikatea and tōtara twisted and towered above them, and Effie’s chest tightened.

She took a deep breath, as though suddenly, in the middle of the bush, there wasn’t enough air.

Effie flinched as a small hand slipped into hers, and she turned to look at Anya. For years Effie had been fine . She’d been fine . But now her body was thrumming. Here, among the leaves, with the silent kid, the past was taunting her. She squeezed Anya’s hand and nodded at the ground.

This spot’s good.

Effie stopped and pulled a jacket out of her bag and set it down for Anya to sit on.

The child looked at it, then at Effie, and sat down.

June had packed them sandwiches and snacks.

Anya ate the sandwich first, then she picked up an apple.

Her eyes widened as her teeth sunk into the fruit.

She ate all of it, apart from three black seeds, which Effie shook her head at.

Don’t eat .

Looking back, there had been an exact moment when Anya had changed.

It was half an hour into the walk as they crossed through a small clearing, and she had let out a soft whimper, one of relief rather than pain.

There had been less anger in her since then, her little body less tense, and she’d started walking closer to Effie.

A week ago, the child had appeared from the bush, starving and covered in blood, and yet the closer they got to the hut, the more at ease she seemed.

Anya laughed now as she prodded at a fallen tree with a stick.

She kicked the end of the log with her heel, and the rotten wood disintegrated under her foot.

It was the first time Effie had heard her laugh, and the lightness of it sent a chill down her spine.

Effie hadn’t laughed for months after leaving the bush.

Anya turned, the residue of laughter caught in her eyes, and Effie looked at her, their green eyes just the same.

In Koraha, the girl’s feelings had radiated from her: anger, fear, frustration—all the emotions of a caged animal.

But here, under the shadow of green, there was something else on her face.

The fist in Effie’s stomach clenched. It was the lack of sadness in her eyes that unnerved Effie.

A lack of pain. She didn’t know what Anya had run from, but it had to have been more than the quiet calm her gaze conveyed.