Page 15 of The Vanishing Place
“No. I don’t think so. Just scrawny. But…” Lewis was stalling; Effie could feel him protecting her from something. “She was starving and disorientated, like she’d been walking for a couple of days. And she was covered in blood.”
“Hers?” Effie leaned forward on the sofa, the police officer in her sparking to life, a shield masking something far darker.
“I don’t think so. Her legs and hands were fairly beaten up, probably from the bushwalk, and she had the odd scar, but she wasn’t bleeding. Apart from a few scratches and bruises, she was relatively unharmed.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Effie frowned. “What did she say?”
“Anya.”
“Sorry?”
“Anya.” Lewis sighed. “That’s her name. It’s all she’ll tell me. I’ve tried everything, but she won’t talk to me. To anyone.”
“Butcanshe speak?” asked Effie. “Does she know how to talk?”
“I think so. I mean, I’m guessing she can talk. She did say her name, and she seems to understand everything that I tell her, and I caught her flicking through a book,” he said. “I think she’schoosingnot to speak.”
There was a silence, heavier and louder than before. Effie closed her eyes. She should hang up.
“Effie,” Lewis said eventually, “she looks just like you.”
His words stopped her—her heart, her lungs, her voice.
“She has your green eyes,” he said. “And your red hair.”
Effie clutched the phone, tethering herself to the conversation. “What are you saying, Lewis?”
“Something’s happened to that child,” he said. “Something bad.I don’t know what. But she won’t talk, and she barely eats. The poor girl has witnessed something horrible and…” He hesitated. “I think, given the strong resemblance, that she’s come from your family’s place.”
The hut.
“No one knows how to get there, Effie.” He paused. “No one except you.”
Rimu raised his head, and Effie touched a hand to his pricked ears.
“No one except me,” she said, barely audible.
The route was ingrained in her. Every land marker. Every bend in the river. As the oldest child, she had the bush etched into her skin—Dad had made sure of that.
November 2001
Morning came. Butno Dad.
Tia didn’t say anything, and neither did Effie, and a big quiet hung in the air, filling the hut.
Tia sat on the floor with the baby as Effie mixed up powdered milk and poured oats into three bowls. Mum would need to eat something to give her energy. The hut felt smaller without Dad and Aiden in it. And with Mum resting, things were a mess. The kitchen was cluttered, and there was nowhere to put the bowls. Effie placed two on the floor, making it hard to angle the large bag of oats. She cursed as oats spilled out and scattered under the sink. Mum hated mess. Mess meant rats, and Mum hated rats even more.
The baby had moaned on and off all night, only sipping tiny amounts from the spoon. Effie felt ill from the mixed-up sleep, like there was vomit behind her eyes and in her brain, and she wanted to shout at something. Not sleeping good was like being shat on by a possum.
“Shouldn’t it be hot?” asked Tia as she took her bowl.
“Oh.” Effie stared at the cold soggy oats. “I forgot.”
Tia shrugged and started eating. Her eyes were puffy and black. The possum must have shat on her too.
