Page 14 of The Vanishing Place
“Come on. Let’s get inside.”
Effie opened the door, kicked her shoes off in the hall and walked through to the living room. There was little in the way of decor other than a well-stocked bookshelf, two braided rugs (both handmade), and a large coffee table that she’d built out of driftwood. The walls were bare but for one print of the Cuillin Ridge Traverse (from Blair) and a small framed drawing of a silver fern (also from Blair).
“You hungry?” Effie smiled at Rimu. “Stupid question.”
With the dog at her ankles, she walked through to the kitchen and poured dry food into his bowl. As the kettle boiled, she stared out the window at the water, her mind miles away. Why was Lewis calling her?
Why now?
Effie had finally managed to mold a life for herself—a life where she didn’t think about them every day. But from the moment Greg had mentioned Lewis’s name, Effie had felt herself being dragged back.
She looked at the dog. “We’d better give him a call, then.”
Rimu’s tail wagged and he followed her through to the living room. Then he jumped up onto the sofa and rested his head on her lap.
“You know this is absolutely not allowed, right?”
Rimu stared up at her with wide pleading eyes.
“Just this once.” She ruffled the back of his neck. “But if you tell anyone, you’re straight outside. No sympathy.”
The dog settled in and Effie checked her watch. It would be early evening in New Zealand, on the opposite side of the world. She typed in the number Greg had given her, then held the phone so tight her cheek started to sweat on the screen.
He answered on the second ring. “Effie?”
Her stomach stirred from fear and excitement and everything in between. He sounded just the same, and yet totally different.
“Effie? Is that you?”
“Yeah.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “It’s me.”
There was a long pause. But not awkward. Nothing had ever been awkward between them. Even when she was nine and he was twelve—their ages and genders theoretically incompatible—they had just worked. Everything about Lewis had been safe and light—his smile, his personality, his voice. Effie had always felt sort of gray and grumpy around him, and yet at the same time, he was the onlyperson who made her feel the exact opposite. He was the only person who didn’t treat her like “the wild girl” from the bush.
“So,” he said. “How are you?”
The absurdness of it—after nearly two decades—made her laugh. She actually fucking laughed.
She held a hand to her face, to her smile. “I’m alive.”
“Excellent.” Effie could hear the emotion in his voice. “I could really do with you being alive right now.”
“What’s happened, Lewis?” She bit into her lip. “Did something happen to…” She couldn’t bring herself to say their names; she hadn’t said her family’s names out loud in years.
He hesitated. “There’s been a situation in Koraha, and…I think I need your help.”
“My help?” Effie frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Lewis let out a long breath. “A kid turned up a couple of days ago. A girl.”
Images rushed through Effie’s head—click, click, click—like the snapping of a camera, and the past flashed in front of her. One sibling after another.Tia. Aiden. The baby. Effie held the phone as her spine tingled. Something was about to happen, something bad. Unless, of course, she hung up. And kept running.
“She came out of the bush,” Lewis continued. “I found her raiding the fridge at On the Spot.”
On the Spot. A lump clogged Effie’s throat, regurgitating forgotten things. On the Spot had been the only store in Koraha. It was where she’d had her first ice cream—an Eskimo Pie. And where she’d split a kid’s lip open. Some boy, a few years older than her, had thumped into her, his elbow out, and murmured that she smelled like possum feces. Effie had been holding a Granny Smith apple, and she’d hurled it straight at his head.
“I think,” said Lewis, “that she’s probably about eight years old. But it’s hard to tell. She’s so small and thin and—”
“Malnourished?” The question slipped out before Effie realized she’d spoken.
