Page 72 of The Vanishing Place

New Zealand

Three months later

Blair’s laughter filled June’s small kitchen, big and bright, and Effie stood in the hallway letting it wash through her.

Blair and Ewan had insisted on a New Zealand holiday, to drink sauvignon blanc and do the whole Lord of the Rings thing.

And to make sure that Lewis wasn’t a complete eejit. Blair’s words.

“You cheated,” June exclaimed. “I demand a rematch.”

“How?” There was a burst of laughter from Blair. “How could I have cheated?”

Anya giggled.

“I don’t know,” said June. “You must have additional saliva stores or something.”

“Ew.” Anya snorted.

Effie smiled to herself, then stepped into the kitchen.

“What on earth are you lot up to?”

“The Weet-Bix challenge.” Anya beamed, her lips coated in wheat dust. “It’s a race to eat two.”

“Dry,” said June. “Barbaric, if you ask me.”

Blair winked at Anya. “Sounds like someone’s a sore loser.”

“I am not!”

Anya was smiling from ear to ear. And as Effie looked at her, she had to bite down on her lip to stop the prickle of tears. At the little girl, who was still smiling despite it all.

“Morning, team.” Lewis’s voice carried through from the front door. “I come bearing coffee and brownies.” His face appeared in the doorway. “Anyone here like brownies?”

“Me.” Anya hurried from her chair and crashed into his legs. “Me.”

“You sure?” Lewis frowned and lifted the box above his head.

“Yes. Yes.”

Blair walked up to him. “I suggest you hand those over, mister, before anyone gets hurt.”

Lewis gulped and held them out.

“Wise choice, my friend.”

Blair smiled at Anya, then took her hand. “If anyone needs us, we’ll be in the living room stuffing our faces. And if Ewan gets back from his run, you never saw us.” She winked. “What do you reckon, June, fancy a brownie challenge?”

“I’ll tell you where you can shove your brownie challenge.”

The three of them walked out giggling, and Lewis slipped his hand into Effie’s. Like it belonged there. Like he’d been holding her hand every day for twenty years. Then he kissed the side of her face.

“How’s she doing?” he asked, nodding in Anya’s direction.

“Today’s a good day,” said Effie with a small smile.

Anya was healing—processing and trusting—but they weren’t all good days. There was still a darkness there, still days when she barely spoke. And perhaps there always would be.

“One day at a time, right?” she said.

Lewis squeezed Effie’s hand, then took a seat at the small kitchen table. “I spoke with Detective Morrow again this morning.” He sipped his coffee. “She doubts that Daniel will ever see the light of day.”

“The Crown wants consecutive life sentences?”

“I believe so.”

“And Adam?”

Lewis shook his head. “Still nothing,” he said. “There was a possible sighting from hunters out near Mataketake Hut, but nothing came of it. Given the landscape, the vastness of it, I’m afraid the police aren’t hopeful.”

Effie picked up her coffee and held it between her hands. Adam was long gone, she was sure of it.

Lewis slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, placing it on the table.

“This was in the postbox,” he said. “It’s for you.”

Effie frowned and sat down next to him. “Me?”

She turned it over in her hands before opening it. A letter fell out along with an old almost-familiar photograph. For the next five minutes, she didn’t speak.

Effie,

I don’t really know how to write this.

I guess I should just start with the important stuff.

Firstly, I’m sorry I was gone for so long. Too long. But I thought that’s what your sister wanted. Adam told me Tia hated me, and that she didn’t want anything to do with me. So I left.

I didn’t know about Tia’s child—about my granddaughter—not until I saw her on the news. She’s beautiful. She looks just like you, Effie.

Adam lied to me all of those years ago. He lied about so many things. I know that now. Too late. And I’ll never forgive myself. I’m not asking for your sympathy. I will never ask that of you. I just want you to know that I thought I was doing right by Tia.

But I’ve done wrong too. I’ve kept things from you.

There’s something you need to know. Something that we’d always planned to tell you, when you were older, but then your mum died bringing Four into the world and I could never find the words.

I loved your mum, Effie, very much, you must know that.

She saved me—us—at a time when I thought everything was lost. But the truth is, I didn’t meet your mum until you were seven months old.

She was still your mum, and always will be.

She loved you more than anything, Effie. But she didn’t give birth to you.

Your birth mum’s name is Dinah.

Effie closed her eyes, the paper shaking in her hand as her dad’s voice pressed upon her, the weight of his words making it hard to breathe.

Exhaling, she continued.

I—we—lost Dinah on the day you were born. Not dead lost, just separated. Dinah and I were separated against our will because of her father’s beliefs, and it nearly broke me. But you kept me going. You and your mum. Then, of course, your siblings came along.

But there was always a part of me that couldn’t let Dinah go. And because of that, I spent the rest of my life looking for her. I know it was wrong of me to leave you kids alone for days in the bush, but I couldn’t stop looking. I couldn’t stop searching for her.

I got close a couple of times. I found one house just days after the family had moved on.

And I got into fights with people who knew things but wouldn’t talk.

The guy from the park, the one who broke Lewis’s ribs, had been one of your grandfather’s early followers.

I recognized him from Hokitika. But by then, the family was long gone, and the guy knew nothing.

Once, Dinah managed to get a note to me.

Just seven words: “He has me shut up. Help me.” It tore me apart.

Then for years I thought she was dead. When Adam (Asher then) turned up at the hut, I didn’t recognize him.

His eyes, they weren’t like that when he was younger.

It wasn’t until he’d left us that I worked it out.

Then, when he came back, something in me snapped.

I thought Dinah was dead because of him.

I thought I’d lost her. But it was you who found her in the end, Effie. It was you who brought her back to me.

Dinah is here with me now. She’s watching me from a chair by the window. The day the police released her name, and your sister’s, I got on a bus, and I don’t think I fully breathed again until Dinah took my hand.

She’s been through a lot, as you know, and her mind and body are tired. But she’s here, alive, with me. And one day, if or when you’re ready, we would like to tell you our full story. Your story.

Over the years, I’ve imagined a thousand lives for you. All of them happy. I needed that. I needed you to be happy.

I’m sorry I wasn’t a better dad. I’ve got more sorries in me than I can count, Effie. But I want to try. I want to try and do better . To deserve you .

Love, Dad

P.S. There’s one other person who can give you answers—if you want them. Ask June about Lily.

When Effie lowered the letter, there was no air left in her.

She lifted the photograph—a boy laughing as a girl kissed his cheek—and turned it over. To the boy who tried to save my life . Under the faded sentence, her dad had scribbled a short note.

Dinah found this at the hut. Us as kids. She wanted you to have it .

“What is it?” asked Lewis.

Effie stared at her dad’s words, the photo shaking in her fingers, unable to look away.

“Effie?” Lewis placed his hand on hers.

She wiped her face. She didn’t know when she had started crying. Oh, Dad . Then she looked at Lewis. “My dad…he…”

But she wasn’t ready. It was too big.

Lewis frowned. “Are you okay?”

Dinah. Peter. Adam .

She was related to all of them.

“I think I need a minute with her,” said Effie.

Lewis released her hand and smiled. “She’s on the deck.”

Then Effie got up from the table, clutching her dad’s words to her chest, not quite ready to share him with Lewis. There was someone else who needed Dad first.