Page 20 of The Vanishing Place
“How did you make it stop?” she asked, her voice wobbly. “How did you get him to drink that?” She nodded at the bottle.
“Maybe try holding him a little less tight.” June looked almost nervous—a strange expression on a grown-up’s face. “And try to keep your voice a bit quieter. He’s sad that you’re sad.”
“Oh.”
Heat spread through Effie’s chest.Love. Love for the little stranger who didn’t want her to be sad.
“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”
The baby’s crumpled face smoothed out, like ripples disappearing from a puddle, and the redness in his cheeks faded.
“See. You’re a natural.”
June beamed, and Effie hated how much she liked the compliment.
“Does he have a name?” June asked.
It hadn’t occurred to Effie to name him. He wasn’t even meant to be there.
“He’s number four,” said Tia. “One, two, three, four.”
Four.
“Little Four.” June smiled. “Come.” She lifted her arm, meaning for Effie to sit. “I also brought some lolly cake from the shop.”
Effie’s tummy ached and rumbled, the hunger making her brain spin, and she sat next to them. She perched by the mint plants—surrounded by the smell of Mum in the morning—and rested Four against her shoulder.
“Would you let me hold him?” asked June. “Just while you eat.”
Slowly, Effie handed him over, then she unwrapped two slices of lolly cake. Her throat was like dry grass, the lack of saliva making it hard to swallow. As she chewed, the bush breathed softly, pulsing like a live thing, calming her.
Once she’d licked the last crumbs from the aluminum foil, Effie reached back for the baby, but the stillness of him stopped her. He was too cozy—too asleep—to move. Giggles of laughter came from the mud kitchen where Aiden and Tia were playing, their little bodies caught in the changing light. The sun had lowered in the sky, its long golden fingers stroking down the trees to the earth, and the air had turned a perfect yellow.
“How long were Tia and I sleeping?”
“Most of the afternoon,” said June. “It will be sunset soon.”
She looked up suddenly, a barely there glance. But her face did that lying thing again.
“When did you get here?” asked Effie.
“Midafternoon.”
“How did—”
A voice stopped her, and Effie jerked her head around.Dad. It was unmistakably Dad. She jumped to her feet, her skin tingling, but as she went to move, a hand gripped her ankle.
“Effie, wait.” June’s face was scared and sad and pale. “Just—”
“I heard Dad.” She pulled her leg free. “Where is he?”
“Please just—”
But Effie was gone. She heard it again. His voice—a grunting. Effie ran after it, sprinting to the front of the house as fast as her legs would take her, and she burst through the front door.
It was empty. No Dad.
But his rucksack sat on the table surrounded by a number of items—tubes of cream and tins of powdered milk. One of the tins had been opened, and the yellow powder dusted the floor. Barely stopping to think, Effie ran from the hut and into the bush. Shesped up at the sound of rustling and groaning. She pushed her way through the ferns, the rimu branches scratching at her arms, until she reached their clearing.
