Page 6 of The Vanishing Place
“I almost did.” Effie offered a half smile, knowing she didn’t need to say anything else.
“So…” said Blair, “just so I know where we’re at—tomorrow, once we’re off this sodding mountain, will I be taking you for a massage and a sauna, or for beer and chicken wings?”
“Beer.” Effie forced a smile. “A lot of beer.”
“Well, that I can—” Blair swore suddenly as a rock thumped into the tent a few centimeters from her head, and she lurched to the side.
“You okay?” Effie leaned forward.
“Yeah. Shit.” Blair patted her chest. “Just caught me by surprise. Jeez, that wind’s strong.”
Effie peered through the small plastic window, but visibility was down to a few meters and the sheets of rain blurred even the closest patches of heather and rock.
“It’s going to be a long night,” said Blair.
“Perhaps not long enough.” Effie buried her face in her palms. “I can already imagine the headlines.” She peered through her fingers. “ ‘Local police officer saved by her own rescue team. Cold and wet cop grateful to be alive.’ ”
“ ‘Incompetent police officer endangered beloved best friend.’ ”
Effie raised an eyebrow as a puddle of water leaked in around her right foot.
“Come on,” said Blair. “No one reads the paper anymore.”
“Keith does.”
“Yeah, Keith definitely does,” said Blair, feigning concern. “He’ll probably frame them and mount them somewhere prominent in the station.”
“You’re awful.”
Effie shivered, the waterproofing on her jacket long since defeated, then blew warm air down her collar. Her fleece was sodden too. The color had drained from Blair’s face, her eyes darkened by smeared makeup and exhaustion, and each time she coughed, the guilt twisted Effie’s insides. People were stupid to trust her, to think she would do anything other than fail them.
Effie tucked her knees into her chest as the shame pulled her mind back. No matter what she did, the past was always there, lapping at her shins. It was like standing at the edge of a vast ocean, the water sucking at her feet as she tried to wade back to the shallows. He was always there, floating just beneath the surface, his fingers clawing at her ankles and pulling her farther out to sea. One dayhe would eventually drown her. And as the water poured down her throat and her arms and legs gave up, Effie would apologize to him over and over.
I’m sorry.
The howl of the wind pierced through her, louder than her thoughts, and Effie bolted upright, her body disorientated and cold.
Blair was staring at her, her skin white and her eyes wide—her expression one of terror. Effie’s chest tightened as her brain fired and realization poured through her. It wasn’t the wind; it was Blair who had screamed. Effie followed the direction of Blair’s eyes, and she froze, her blood running cold.
There, in the small circular window, was a face.
A stranger. His left eye filled with blood.
November 2001
Effie stumbled backto the bedroom door with the baby hugged into her chest, unable to look away from the strange figure that lay in Mum’s bed. It had Mum’s clothes on, and Mum’s face, but the important bits were all wrong.
“Mum?”
Effie gripped the baby, her voice shaking as tears dripped down her face and her tummy threatened to spill out.
“Mum?” she said again, louder.
Mum needed to wake up. She needed to stop playing. The baby wasn’t meant to be here. Mum hadn’t mentioned having another one—three was plenty, she said. There was no cot set up in the corner. No nappies on the line. Mum had sewn for weeks before Aiden came, but there were no lengths of fabric on the table. No reels of thread.
Effie jiggled the baby a bit until his little eyes closed fully. Then she took a step toward the bed—toward the thing that was both Mum and not Mum. Like, from a distance, Effie couldn’t be sure. The thought tingled in her skin as she inched closer. Securing the baby—his sleepy body like water—Effie reached out a shakinghand and touched her mum’s forearm. It was warm. Effie inhaled. Mum’s skin was still warm.
“Dad!” Effie screamed as she clutched the baby and rushed from the room. “Dad!”
