Page 21 of The Vanishing Place
Dad was there.
Digging.
His body was hunched over, his huge hands gripped around a spade. He thrust the metal blade into the earth—in and out, in and out—as dirt sprayed into the air.
“No!” Effie screamed.“No!”
She hurled herself forward, tripping and stumbling onto the ground, but Dad didn’t look up. His mind was lost to a faraway place. She picked herself up and flung herself at him. She clawed at his arms and chest, but he didn’t stop.
“No!”Effie shrieked. “Stop. Stop!”
Dad dug into the earth, spadeful after spadeful, as shafts of light filtered through the trees, and tears streaked his cheeks.
“Please!” Effie’s throat burned. “Please! She’s not dead. You have to help her. Stop!”
She balled her fingers and pounded at his back, punching and begging with tiny fists, but the dad mountain didn’t budge. He couldn’t put Mum in that hole. Effie wouldn’t let him. Mum would suffocate in the dirt.
Sweating and panting, she staggered back. She needed to get back to Mum. But as she turned, a twig snapped under her foot—a tiny insignificant sound—and Dad stopped, and the spade fell limp in his hands. For a moment, he stood frozen, silhouetted in the fine golden mist. Then the spade thumped to the forest floor. Dad turned and stared at her, his eyes wild and unblinking.
“Dad?”
“Effie.” He frowned, his lips barely moving.
“Please, Dad. You have to stop.”
A bolt of fear flashed through his eyes, as if he’d only just noticedher, and he looked at her, panicked. Then his eyes darted back to the pit in the ground, and her eyes followed his. Effie’s legs collapsed beneath her, her knees sinking into the mud, and she closed her eyes, willing it away.
No. No. No.
But the image congealed and flashed behind her eyelids—the small patch of material poking out of the dirt.
—
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
The words floated in water around her.
“I’m so sorry,” Dad muttered.
An intense pressure crushed Effie’s arms and chest, but she didn’t fight it. The big black pain inside her was too huge. Dad lifted her and held her tight, his strong arms holding the broken bits of her together.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His breath was stale, and his body smelled of dirt and salt. “I didn’t want you to see any of that. I thought that…” His voice broke, and his tears dripped onto Effie’s face.
She kept her eyes closed as Dad carried her back to the hut, her body limp and baby-like, and he placed her on the sofa. Then he sat next to her and clung to her like he needed her for breathing.
“I had to, sweetheart. I had to bury her.” He pressed his lips to Effie’s forehead. “Mum was dead, sweetheart. You know that.”
The pressure increased around her ribs, his arms squishing her tighter, and Effie curled her fingers around his muddy hand.
“Don’t cry,” she whispered and squeezed his hand. “Don’t cry, Daddy.”
Effie leaned into him, Dad’s favorite little girl, and patted his arm, helping him to breathe.
“You’re okay, Daddy.”
2025
Effie stared throughthe plane window.
