Page 48 of The Vanishing Place

Effie clambered from the tin boat and landed on the stones, a small wounded puddle.

The Haast River had churned and tugged under the boat, pulling her astray, but Effie had battled against it, fighting until her arms burned and her palms left skin on the wooden oars.

She spluttered, coughing up bile and phlegm, and wiped the mucus away with her sleeve. Her clothes were damp with dirt and river and Asher’s blood. She crawled on hands and knees, reaching out to the water, but her body bowed over, and the stones caught her chin.

Cursing, Effie forced herself up, then she lunged at the river, scooping up handfuls of water and throwing it into her face and down her throat.

After hours of stumbling through the bush without food or drink, the skin on her feet was raw and her stomach ached.

She’d walked for six hours, too dazed to stop, and the black tinge of nightfall was creeping through the sky.

Effie lay down, allowing herself a short rest, as the shadows lengthened and the sky darkened above her, the moon bright and round.

Slowly, her breath and body came back to her and she stood. It was an easy ten-minute walk through the bush to the road. Then it was twenty-seven kilometers on the hard road to Koraha. In the dark. Alone. Without food or water or warm clothes.

“Stupid idiot.”

She should have grabbed her bag. She clenched her fists and kicked at the ground. Then she lifted her face to the moon.

“You up for this?” Effie whispered. “Cos I’m going to need your help.”

The moon smiled down, and Effie forced a weak smile back.

“Let’s go, then.”

—

The small body that slumped against June’s back door, nine hours later, was broken and empty.

Effie had hidden in the verge whenever a car passed, only a handful in total, afraid of strange faces and strange questions, then she’d stumbled on without stopping. As the hours passed, and her feet tore, the cold had eaten through her. First through her clothes, then through her bones.

“June,” Effie murmured.

She raised her arm and her fist slumped against the locked screen door.

Nothing.

“June.” The word caught in her parched throat, and she blinked away hot tears. “June.”

Nothing.

There was a soft drip-drip-drip in the dark as water spotted on the stone steps. Then the first raindrop landed on Effie’s forehead. She slumped forward against the door, trying not to cry. She was so cold and so tired. Her eyes fluttered closed, and it took forever for her to open them again.

She had to move.

Move, Effie. Do something .

Gritting her teeth, she lifted her head and peered through the gloom.

There, just a few meters away, glowing in the moonlight, was a pair of gardening shears.

She crawled through the long grass, her feet too sore to hold her weight, then she clambered back to the screen door, dragging the shears behind her.

With a huge effort, she lifted the long clippers and cut into the mesh.

She cut and cut—the metal blades clanging off the doorframe—until she couldn’t hold her arms up anymore.

“Oh god.”

Effie turned her head to the voice, to the figure on the other side of the door in sheepskin slippers and a red checked fleece.

“Oh, my sweet girl.”

June curled herself around her, blocking the world out, and Effie let herself stop.

—

Effie didn’t see anyone except June and Lewis that week. June said there were too many wagging tongues and prying noses in a small town. Best to lay low.

It wasn’t until day three that Effie finally spoke to June, until Tia’s voice wasn’t so loud in her head.

If you tell anyone where we are, I’ll never forgive you.

Sitting opposite June and Lewis at the kitchen table, Effie settled on the half-truth that she’d decided to tell them. Not that lying mattered. Asher was already dead.

“I just needed to get away from Dad,” she whispered. “I need to get as far away from here as possible.”

From him. From the bush. From the itch to go back.

“Effie.” Lewis sat opposite her. “Can you tell us what—”

She shook her head.

Lewis was a policeman now—still supervised, he’d said, but he had a uniform and a badge. So talking to him wasn’t an option. The police would cage Dad in a cement box, and the four gray walls would kill him. And Tia would die from it too.

“Effie, I don’t understand.”

She shook her head again.

Lewis was eighteen now, a man, and looking at him made her palms sweat.

He had cried the morning that Effie showed up, when June had called him and told him to come to the house with food and a first-aid kit.

He had squeezed Effie so hard that her ribs hurt, and he’d kept touching her, like he wasn’t convinced she was real.

Once, when they thought she was sleeping, Effie had caught June hugging Lewis like Mum used to hug Tia.

—

June and Lewis talked lots over the next week. Effie only participated when they discussed the faraway places that she could escape to.

She had found a globe and spun it halfway around, as far away as she could get, and she’d pressed her finger to a mass of land on the other side. Europe. A continent about twenty thousand kilometers away.

Apparently, years ago, June had stolen Effie’s birth certificate from a metal box under the hut.

Just in case . Which meant that Effie could get a black piece of card with her name and photo printed on it.

A necessity, June said, although she didn’t explain why.

Some government nonsense. And June had a cousin in Scotland who kept being mentioned. Katy or Kate or something.

All the talking was tiring, and Effie’s thoughts were bruised and foggy.

Even at night, behind the darkness of her eyelids, she pictured Asher.

His eyes. The gurgle from his lips. The stillness of his chest. Certain details of his face were harder to cling to.

Some things were already rubbing out. Effie just wanted to escape.

To get far enough away that Asher’s dead face couldn’t follow her.

The rise in Lewis’s voice stole Effie from her thoughts, and she looked up from the table.

He was pacing the room in his uniform, and June was watching him.

There was some legal issue that they were fighting about, some complication that Lewis had brought up before.

But Effie tried not to listen. She didn’t know why she should care about pissing off a few cops in Christchurch.

“We would be party to kidnapping, June. He’s still her legal guardian,” said Lewis. “You get that, right? She’s only fifteen, meaning her consent is immaterial.”

June shrugged. “Who would find out anyway? The police?” She winked at him. “Are you planning on telling on us?”

“No.” Lewis scowled. “Of course not.”

“And it’s in the girl’s interests. Juries look favorably on those things.”

“Juries, yes. But…”

“But what?”

Lewis shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Lewis?”

He avoided June’s eyes. “The police tend to come down hard on their own.”

The expression on June’s face changed—like someone had died—and she looked from Effie to Lewis. Something was happening between them, something that Effie didn’t understand. Words that didn’t make sense.

June paused. “I wasn’t thinking. You’re right. It’s too risky.”

“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I just…” Lewis hesitated, looking sad rather than angry, which didn’t make sense either.

“If you think it’s the right thing,” he said, “then I’m happy to take the risk. I just want you to be sure. For her. Not me.”

June touched his hand, patting him slightly.

Lewis looked hurt.

And Effie felt like a child.

—

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” whispered Effie.

She sat on her bed and picked at her thumb.

“Yes.” Lewis gave a small smile.

Idiot. Of course he knew she was leaving. Lewis had booked the bloody ticket. It had been all they’d talked and not talked about for three weeks.

“Will you miss me?” she asked.

Lewis walked over from his spot in the corner and sat on the bed next to her.

He put his hand on her knee, and Effie moved closer.

Then he reached his arm out and pulled her into his chest. Effie leaned into the warmth of him, his heart beating in her ear, and closed her eyes.

Lewis rested his chin on her head, their bodies curled together.

For a couple of minutes, neither of them spoke, and Effie wanted the moment to last forever. But it couldn’t. All the clothes that June had collected were already washed and packed for the flight, and Effie was in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and a pair of boy’s shorts.

Lewis touched his hand to her waist, his fingers finding skin, and her body tensed. Gently, he placed his other hand on her thigh, and the tingling sensation moved through her body.

“Lewis…” Effie inhaled, and he looked away.

“Can’t you stay?” he asked. “I promise I’ll never let him hurt you.”

Effie shook her head. “I don’t trust myself. I’m terrified that one day I’ll wake up and want to go back.” She looked down at her hands. “If I stay here, I’ll never escape him.”

Lewis pressed his lips to her head. “But I only just got you back.”

“I know.”

Effie bit into her tongue, her body burning in a strange and exciting way, wanting things that she barely understood.

Things that she’d only read about in books.

She closed her eyes, like they did on TV, and moved in to kiss him.

But when she was close enough to feel his breath, close enough to feel the thump of his heart, Lewis pressed a hand to her shoulder, stopping her.

“Effie, I…” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

She opened her eyes, the pain like a knife to her heart, and stared at him.

“We can’t, Effie.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand. Don’t you want to kiss me?”

“Of course I do.” He shook his head again. “But we can’t. Not yet.”

“But I’m leaving”

Lewis shuffled back, like touching her made him feel sick.

“ Why won’t you kiss me? ” she shouted.

“I…”

“ Why? ” Effie shouted again. “Tell me.”

“Effie, I want to kiss you more than anything.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Christ, it’s all I think about. It’s—”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“You’re fifteen, Effie.” He stopped and looked at her. “And I’m an eighteen-year-old cop.”

“So?”

“So, we…we just can’t.”

“It’s just a stupid kiss.”

Lewis tensed and his jaw clenched.

Effie hesitated. “Do you want to do more than kiss?”

“Of course I do. Of course, I—”

“You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Effie, don’t say that.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” she said. “And I’m leaving tomorrow.” She swallowed. “I want you to do it. I want to do it with you.”

Lewis turned away from her. “We just can’t, Effie,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Then go,” she said.

“What?” He looked at her, his eyes wet.

“Go,” she said. “I don’t want you here.”

—

The next day, as June and Effie packed up the car, she kept looking back down June’s drive.

But there was no car.

No Lewis.

As they drove from Koraha, Effie craned her neck to look out the rear window.

But there was no Lewis.

No boy running after her.

And by the time they reached Christchurch, Effie’s body ached so much that it hurt to breathe. And when June touched a hand to Effie’s thigh, tears spilled down her face.