Page 32 of The Vanishing Place
Effie and the girl sat in the back seat of the ute, both silent, as June drove. The girl, still in theFrozennightdress, hadn’t spoken to her again. If anything, she seemed more withdrawn, as though she regretted speaking to Effie at all.
Christ. Effie closed her eyes and bit into her cheeks.Jesus effing Christ. She had a kid now—a living breathing human that she was apparently responsible for. And what the hell she was meant to do with it—withher—she had no idea.Bloody Lewis. Effie rubbed at her forehead, trying to alleviate the tension that had settled behind her eyes.
Eventually, Effie looked over at the kid. Anya was hunched forward, her legs tucked to her torso, tugging at the hem of her nightdress, trying to stretch it down like it was the most important thing in the world. The pounamu pendant tapped against the girl’s chest as she rocked. And, as the ute turned a corner, Effie touched a hand to her own neck, to the other half of the greenstone heart.
“Where did you get that necklace?” she asked.
The girl turned and glared at her before pressing a finger to her lips. “Shh,” she hissed. “No talking.”
Effie forced a polite smile. “It’s not nice to talk to people like that.”
“Then stop talking to me.”
Effie flinched. “You can’t just tell—”
“Quiet,” she whispered. “You’re breaking the rules.”
“What rules?”
The child’s frown deepened and her green eyes narrowed. “You’re not very clever, are you?”
Effie glanced up at the rearview mirror, catching the hint of a smile on June’s face.
“Mum lied about you,” Anya said. Then she turned back to the window.
“What did you just say?” Effie grabbed the girl’s arm. “Who’s your mum? What did she lie about?”
The kid stared at Effie’s hand, and Effie jerked it back.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you. I just…your mum…what’s her name?”
Anya turned and started banging at the window, pounding her tiny fists into the glass. She pulled at the handle, scratching at it, and the door opened a fraction.
“Jesus.” Effie lurched over and pulled it closed. “What are you doing?”
“If you keep talking to me, I’ll jump out.” Her voice was cold.
Effie gawked, speechless.
It was June who spoke then. “It’s okay, kid. No more talking.”
—
The girl sat on the floor in June’s living room, rifling through the pile of clothes that the locals had dropped off. She’d refused breakfast initially, standing in the kitchen doorway shaking her head until June suggested she might like to eat by herself in the living room, where no one would talk to her.
The porridge bowl, licked clean, sat upturned on the floor next to her as she divided the clothes into two piles.
“She only picks out the dresses,” said Effie.
June leaned on the doorway next to Effie, nursing a cup of tea in one hand.
“Strange,” said June, taking a sip from her mug. “You’d think that pants would have been more practical in the bush.”
Effie stared at the girl, not knowing what to do or say, her thoughts thick and heavy.
“I’m sorry,” said June, “that you and Lewis didn’t get a chance to talk properly. That can’t have been easy after—”
“It’s fine.” Effie cleared her throat. “I’m good. I’m fine.”
