The Boy Under the Table (10 page)

But his parents had said the words.

Doug kept repeating to anyone who came near him, ‘I told him not to move. I told him to stay where he was and hold on to the stroller. I was only gone for sixty seconds.’

Sixty seconds can change your life.

Pete and Doug had formed a quiet friendship after Doug’s father died. Pete had taken over for his lost mate and watched over Doug and the farm.

The boy had struggled in the beginning but farming was in his blood and eventually he and the land got to know each other. They would make proper money this year and Pete was happy for them. Doug had worked until he couldn’t stand. Not that money would be any good now.

He was really stoked when Doug and Sarah got together. Everyone had been a little wary of Sarah at first. She spoke like she came from money and she looked like she belonged in the city. But Sarah had slid right into farm life. Even at its worst Pete could see that Sarah had become part of the land. She needed some time away every now and again, but she would always come back.

The arrival of Lockie was good news for the town. Every baby was a bonus, but Lockie was Pete’s favourite. He grew up talking fast and running when he should have walked. He was a kid filled with ideas about the world. He was smart and funny and Doug knew that he wouldn’t be staying on the farm. Lockie loved the farm but Doug could see the spark inside him—a spark that needed the whole world to shine in.

The whole town seemed a little faded now.

‘It’s not fair,’ was all Pete would hear as he walked through the streets.

No one said anything about fair.

People still stopped him and asked about Lockie. Everyone who went to Sydney kept their eyes and ears open. One of the local lads knew a few of the bikie boys and even they were looking for the little boy.

But there wasn’t even a trace of him. It was like the universe had opened up a hole and dragged Lockie down into it.

When the family had finally returned home after a month in Sydney there was nothing anyone could say.

They were broken. Heartbroken and soul-broken.

Sarah had folded up inside herself. Nothing would comfort her. The pills made her numb, but every time he visited Pete could see her punishing herself. There was nothing left of her now. And to think she and Margie used to exchange diet tips.

When Pete went over for a drink on Saturday nights he could feel the despair wrapping itself tighter around the house with each passing week.

It was the not-knowing that killed them.

Sarah looked after Sammy and the house on automatic. Some days the switch was off and she stayed in bed. Margie went over then and did her best.

Pete had quietly suggested counselling to Doug but the younger man had just given his head a shake.

‘She’s not ready, Pete. None of us are. We have to give up first, and I don’t know how to give up. I haven’t given up on this farm all through the years of drought. I’ve watched the sheep die and I’ve seen the land burn but I didn’t give up. How can I give up on my boy?’

Sometimes Sarah would be up and about and when she saw Pete she would let something slip.

He would walk into the kitchen to say hello and she would say, ‘Do you think whoever has him knows that he likes to read about space? Do you think they know he loves pasta but hates corn?’

They were random questions. Pete tried to answer at first but then he realised that Sarah wasn’t really talking to him. She was simply voicing out loud the questions that went through her head every day, all day, tormenting her.

‘Do they know he likes Vegemite toast for breakfast?’

‘Do they know how he likes his scrambled eggs?’

‘Are they making sure he has his milk every day?’

‘Are they keeping him warm?’

‘Are they being kind to him?’

‘Is he going to school?’

‘Do they know he hates to be tickled?’

‘Are they hurting him? Are they hurting my little boy?’

What could he say to that?

Pete said nothing. He hung his head and waited for her to stop asking questions.

They were questions about the smallest of things but everyone knew that in the end it was the little things that got you. It was the little things that tore you down and made you give up. The little things were worse than the big stuff. They poked at you day in and day out, forcing you to think.

Pete tried to keep his mind off the little things but he couldn’t tell Sarah to do the same. It seemed to him that mothering was all about the little things anyway.

In all his years as a cop he had never felt this helpless, as though he had one hand tied behind his back. He had always been able to sort everything out. People came to him the same way they went to Father Andrew.

Now he was watching this family, his family, die a little every day and there was nothing he could do to save them. Some days he powered around in a rage, yelling at Margie and giving speeding tickets and even throwing a few drunks in jail, but mostly he just felt so unbelievably sad. Sadder than he had ever been about the babies he and Margie never managed to have. Those were the days he phoned Sydney and talked to Lisa. She was only young but Pete had a feeling she had seen more than he had.

The worst thoughts of all came in the middle of the night. He would wake from a sound sleep with his heart racing and just knew that wherever Lockie was he was suffering. He was suffering and he was probably just waiting for Pete to come and save him the way the teacher told all the kids every year.

Every year he went into every classroom—even the ones with the older kids—and told them that he was there to help, no matter what. Every year he promised them that he could solve whatever problem they had, even if they didn’t like the solution. He promised them every year and in Lockie’s class they had all smiled and nodded like they were absolutely sure that was the truth.

They had smiled and nodded and promised to trust a policeman so what had gone wrong? Who had taken Lockie? Who had he gone with and where was he now?

Where was he now?

Tina

Tina dragged her coat through the window again. She landed on the ground with a small thud. Pain streaked through her ankle but she moved it a bit and the pain settled down. Her head was aching and her back was throbbing but she had managed to get the kid out of the house. Her breath darted shakily in and out of her lungs. It could have gone the other way. She could have been the one lying on the floor covered in blood. She could have landed up tied to the table leg with the kid. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. It could have gone the other way.

She had to leave the window open. Mark was holding the boy. His face was scrunched with disgust. The kid stank worse than the stairs in their squat.

Mark put him gently onto the ground and wordlessly took the poker that was now wrapped in the tea towel. He lifted it up and down feeling its weight. The boy sat on the ground in the icy air. He didn’t look like he could move. Slowly he pulled his legs towards himself and folded up into a ball.

‘Pick him up, Mark. He can’t walk and he’s got no shoes.’ Tina spoke slowly so she could keep her voice under control. The urge to cry and scream and run crept up her spine but she held still.

Wordlessly Mark handed the poker back to her and lifted the boy lightly into his arms. Tina took her coat and wrapped him in it, like she had wrapped Tim when he was an infant. The boy just stared.

‘What the fuck happened in there?’

‘Not worth talking about.’

‘Why have you brought this? Why is it wet?’

‘It’s blood.’

‘Jesus, Tina, what the fuck did you do?’

‘Something that needed to be done. We have to get rid of it.’

‘Fuck, Tina, I don’t need this.’

‘Are you going to help me, or what? Because if you aren’t just leave now and let me deal with this myself.’

‘Calm the fuck down. I’ll help you.’

‘Let’s get this kid to a police station.’

‘No,’ said the boy in his gritty voice. ‘No uniforms.’

‘These are the good guys, kid, they’ll help you. They’ll make sure you get home.’

‘No uniforms,’ said the boy. His voice was climbing. His body was stiff and he started to move around in Mark’s arms, trying to get down, to get away.

‘Look, kid—you need to relax. I just rescued you. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll only take you somewhere where they can help you.’

‘No uniforms, no uniforms, no uniforms, please, please, please,’ begged the boy, and Tina could feel the fear radiating off his battered body.

She remembered the uniform hanging in front of the shower.

A uniform had taken him. A uniform had starved him. Who knew what else the uniform had done to him.

If they dumped him at the front of the police station he might run or he might just give up. If they took him into the police station then they would be inside, where there would be questions and assumptions. She was not prepared for questions from the cops. She had no answers. The man was dead and police liked to close the case and put someone in a cell. There were things you did not do when you were of ‘no fixed address’. The most important thing was not to draw attention to yourself.

She hadn’t really thought further than getting the kid out of the house but she had not seen herself walking him into a police station either. She wanted to stand outside and watch him go in and congratulate herself on a job well done.

‘This wasn’t part of the plan,’ she said to Mark.

‘Let’s just take him home, Teen,’ said Mark. ‘We can deal with it later.’

‘Can you carry him all the way?’

‘Yeah, he’s like nothing. Maybe we need to feed him?’

Tina calculated how much money it would take to feed the kid. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in months.

It would have been so easy to drop him off at the police station. So easy to just drop him on the step and pat herself on the back. But if she wanted to help him she would have to put herself out in the open. No way was he walking inside alone. Tina could see the fear in his eyes—even in the half light from the street. It was deep and powerful and the kid was not going to just go where they told him like a good little boy. Tina could see that in his face. He had learned a hard lesson, but he had learned it well. Stay away from the uniforms.

Tina sighed. ‘Okay, let’s go to Maccas.’

She looked at the boy. Anyone seeing him would be horrified at the state he was in. He stank and his skin was grey with dirt. Tina worried for her coat, hoping it wouldn’t absorb too much of the smell. The air was frigid and Tina missed her coat more with every step. She swung the poker back and forth in the cold air, feeling its weight.

She tried not to think about the body she had left in the house. She had never hurt anyone before. Even when Tim really could have used a good smack she didn’t see the point in hurting him. The man had turned the boy into his dog and she’d turned the man into a thing. Round and round it went. She would not worry about who he had been, about the pain he might have felt. She would look at the skinny dirty boy and let the man be a thing, a uniform with an evil darkness inside him. The sort of thing that deserved to die. She really hoped that she had actually killed him. If he was still alive and if he came after her he would kill her. There was no doubt about that.

Along the way they found a garden with a tap right on the edge. Tina rinsed the poker and then they cut across a park. Tina threw the poker into the pond. The water closed over it as if it had never existed. She threw the tea towel in after it. It took a few minutes to absorb the water and then it too disappeared from sight.

‘Let’s go,’ said Mark after standing in silence while the water closed over Tina’s guilt.

‘Yeah,’ said Tina. ‘Let’s go.’

It was warm inside the McDonald’s and the greasy smell of comfort filled the air. Arik was serving behind the counter. His staff had a habit of turning up whenever they liked. He’d offered Tina a job once but there were too many questions to answer on the application form.

He gave the trio the once-over. He scrunched up his nose.

‘My little brother,’ said Tina without thinking. ‘He ran away from home. I’m going to take him back in the morning.’

‘He ran away without shoes?’ said Arik.

Two small blue feet hung below the hem of the coat. Tina stood in front of the blue feet so Arik would not notice the chafed ring around the boy’s ankle. She chose silence as an answer. She could see Arik working his way through the problem. Arik had worked in the Cross for years. He once told Tina that he hadn’t been hired to be night manager in the Cross because he had experience or because he was studying law. He had been hired because he had completed a first-aid certificate and had a black belt in karate.

Tina wished she could think of something to say to Arik, something that would explain the boy’s presence but she knew that nothing would be good enough. Arik was a father and she knew he was looking at the boy in the way a father, a good father, might. If she asked him he would get involved, Tina knew he would. But Arik had a class to get to and a wife and kids to go home to. Tina didn’t want to be just one more responsibility he had to deal with. Arik shook his head and Tina could see him asking his God what he was supposed to do.

In the end he simply said, ‘What will you have?’

Tina looked at the boy. Mark had set him on the floor. Tina’s coat covered him completely.

He was obviously starving. He should have been demanding everything on the menu but he wasn’t asking for a thing. He was looking everywhere but at the menu board.

What the fuck happened to you?
Tina wondered.

‘We’ll have four Big Macs and four large fries and four large Cokes,’ said Tina.

Mark looked at her. ‘I’m skint.’

‘That’s okay.’ She pulled out her precious fifteen dollars and hoped it would cover the food. She felt a pull in her chest as she handed over the money. It had only lasted one day.

Once, a long time ago, fifteen dollars would have meant a movie ticket and junk food. Easy come, easy go. Such a long time ago. Tina wanted to put the money back in her pocket and bolt for the door but the kid needed her right now. No one had needed her for a while.