The Boy Under the Table (17 page)

They stayed in the squat all day.

When the afternoon sun disappeared Mark woke up. He looked into the room.

Lockie had fallen asleep on the floor. He hadn’t complained about being hungry and he hadn’t said he was bored. It was like having a robot kid.

‘How come he’s still here?’ said Mark.

‘He won’t go into the police station. I’d take him, but . . .’

‘Yeah, but . . .’

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do with him, Mark.’

‘Should have thought of that before you turned into a superhero.’

‘Shut the fuck up, Mark. I couldn’t just leave him there.’

‘You’re all heart, Teen.’

‘Yeah, I’m a fucking angel.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

Tina laughed. It felt good to laugh. Lockie didn’t even smile properly. Tina rubbed her eyes. She was tired. Taking care of someone else was draining.

‘I think I have to take him home.’

‘Where does he live?’

‘Some hick town called Cootamundra. Heard of it?’

‘Nah, but then I’ve never been out of Sydney.’

‘I have, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention.’

‘Patrick might know.’

‘Why would he know anything?’

‘He’s from Young.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Dunno, but he’s from there.’

‘Is he up?’

‘Yeah, getting there.’

‘Is he okay?’

‘Not brilliant, but he’ll talk to you.’

‘All right.’

Mark went out of the room and came back a moment later with Patrick. Patrick looked like he belonged on a surfboard on some beach. Even in winter he looked tanned, although that was probably because of some nasty disease eating him alive. His blond hair stood straight up in spikes. The men loved him. He looked like everyone’s idea of a beautiful surfer. Once Patrick had let slip that his dad thought he was beautiful too. Any evil fuck could have a kid.

‘Yeah, what’s up?’ he said. His eyes darted around the room, landed on a sleeping Lockie and kept moving. Tina knew he wasn’t looking for anything. He just couldn’t keep still. He scratched at his favourite spot on his wrist. There was only a small amount of blood but it was disturbing to watch him open up the scab. Tina was glad that Lockie was asleep.

‘Do you know where Cootamundra is?’

‘Yeah, ’bout forty k from Young. Nothing much happening there. Don Bradman was born there but.’

‘Do you know how I could get there?’

‘What the fuck you wanna go there for? Piece-of-shit boring town.’

‘I want to take this kid home.’

‘What kid?’

‘This kid, Patrick,’ said Tina. Christ, he was nearly over the edge.

‘Fucked if I know, Tina. I s’pose you could catch a train.’

‘All the way there?’

‘Yeah, you know, a country train. I don’t know. Ask the bloke at the station.’

‘Okay, thanks, Pat.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

‘Do you want to come out tonight? One of us could watch the kid while you work,’ said Mark.

‘Nah, thanks. I’ll just get him some dinner and get some sleep. Might go past the train station and see what’s what.’

Mark’s offer was real but Tina knew that there was no way he would live up to it. A short attention span was just the smallest side effect of his habit. There was also no telling what he would do for enough money. Lockie could turn into a commodity. She waited until the boys had left and then counted out her money again. It was still only eleven dollars no matter which way she looked at it.

‘Up you get, Lockie,’ she said, touching his shoulder, trying not to stroke his hair but failing.

He sat up rubbing his eyes and yawning. His face had that pink-cheeked glow little kids get after they sleep.

For some reason the glow made Tina proud, like she had made it happen.

‘Can we go to the bathroom?’

‘Yeah and then we have to go to the train station and figure out how to get you home.’

‘Are you going to take me home?’

Tina sighed. ‘Yeah, Lockie, I’m going to take you home—at least I’m going to try, but if I can’t figure it out then you have to go to the police station, okay?’

‘You’ll figure it out,’ said Lockie in a small determined voice. ‘You’ll figure it out.’

Are you listening, universe?
Tina asked.
Are you listening?

The man at the station was not in a good mood. Tina understood the man’s attitude. He was wedged in his life with no way out. Tina didn’t think she would love the idea of sitting in a booth all day either.

‘Yeah, what?’ he said, giving his large belly a scratch. The buttons on his grey shirt hung on for dear life. It amazed Tina that people seemed to know automatically how to treat her. The man would fawn and smile at other people but he seemed to know that Tina would just take any crap. The Cross stuck to her.

‘I need to know how to get to Cootamundra.’

‘Where?’

‘Cootamundra. It’s in the country.’

‘I’ll have to look it up,’ said the man, eyeing Lockie and then giving her the once-over as well. He didn’t move.

Tina felt her body grow tight. Stupid arsehole prick.

‘Could you please look it up? We need to go home.’

The man took a sip of his Coke, belched loudly, and then went to work on his computer.

‘You can catch a train from Central to Cootamundra.’

‘How long does it take?’

The man rolled his eyes and looked back at his computer screen.

‘Takes about five hours. It leaves at seven forty-two in the morning. How many are travelling?’

‘Just me and the boy.’

‘You an adult?’

Tina nodded without even thinking about it. It wasn’t like she had any sort of card to say she was a student, and everything would just be easier if she was an adult. Easier and more expensive.

‘How old is the kid?’

‘Eight,’ said Tina.

‘I assume you want economy class,’ said the man, giving Tina a yellow-toothed grin.

Tina nodded.

‘That’ll be sixty-four dollars and sixty-nine cents, luv.’

‘Jesus, that’s a lot.’

‘Travel ain’t cheap.’

Tina looked at the man. ‘I’ll have to go to the bank. I’ll be back tomorrow.’

‘I’ll be here,’ leered the man.

She pulled Lockie away from the window.

‘Why didn’t you buy the tickets, Tina? Aren’t we going home?’

I’m never going home
, thought Tina.

‘Tickets cost money, Lockie—money we don’t have.’

‘My dad has money. You could call my dad.’

‘Oh yeah, that would work out real well,’ muttered Tina. ‘Probably give the man a heart attack.’ Lockie’s father would send the police after them so fast Tina wouldn’t even have time to hang up the phone. And then everything would be chaos. No one would give her a chance to explain. Maybe if she got the kid home then they would take the time to listen. Maybe.

‘How are we going to get some money, Tina?’

‘I don’t know, okay? Just shut up now. You talk too much.’

‘Sorry, Tina,’ he said and swiped furiously at his cheeks.

‘Ah, fuck, Lockie, I didn’t mean to shout. Look, don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll figure it out.’

‘Yeah, you’ll figure it out,’ he said, and then, almost to himself, ‘Tina will figure it out.’

Jesus, the weight of his trust was heavy.

‘I have trains at home,’ said Lockie after a few minutes of silence.

‘Yeah, what, like Thomas the Tank Engine?’

‘No,’ said Lockie fiercely. ‘Not Thomas. I’m not a baby. Real trains. They go over mountains and under tunnels. My dad built a big table for them. There are people on the trains. My mum made me a train cake once. She made a station out of icing. She made people out of icing. I got to eat the conductor. Sammy wanted the conductor but Dad said no because it was my birthday. Now I have real trains. They’re small but they’re real.’

Tina waited until Lockie ran out of stuff to say.

‘That sounds pretty cool.’

‘I got them for my birthday when I turned eight.’

‘Yeah,’ said Tina. She was not really listening, not really thinking. Small kids were easy to tune out.

‘When is your birthday?’ she asked and then immediately cursed herself. Lockie was not some ordinary kid. Who knew what a birthday meant to him now?

‘On the nineteenth of June,’ said Lockie.

‘Oh,’ said Tina, completely lost for words.

‘What month is it now?’

‘August.’

‘Yeah, I’m already nine. I’m nine now.’ The words were said without emotion. This terrible fact was just another one to add to the list Lockie must have in his head.

Tina remembered the anticipation of a birthday ahead. She just knew that in Lockie’s house it would be a really big deal. Kids waited the whole year for their birthdays. Tim had crossed days off the calendar for two months before. The night before his birthday he had always been almost psycho with excitement. The whole family had to get up at the crack of dawn to open presents and sing to him. She must have done the same thing when she was a kid but she couldn’t remember it. Her mother always baked a cake and bought as many presents as she could afford.

‘I bet they’ve got presents for you,’ she said to the silent Lockie.

‘Who?’

‘Your mum and dad. I bet they bought you presents and they kept them for when you get home. When you get home you can open them.’

‘For real?’ said Lockie.

‘Yeah,’ said Tina, hoping it was true. ‘For real.’

She relaxed a little at having figured out a way to move Lockie on. He was still looking at his feet but she could see him considering what could be waiting for him when he got home. Presents made the possibility of getting home seem real. He didn’t understand the dilemma of no money—not really. Tina hadn’t really understood it either. Even when things were really bad there was always food in the fridge at home. There was always money for stuff she really needed. Only after a few days in the Cross did she realise that it was possible to go hungry. It was a scary thought. One that she didn’t want to contemplate right now. She needed help from somewhere but there was nowhere to go and no one who could help.

‘I could really use a cigarette,’ said Tina to the world in general.

‘Here you go,’ said a man in front of them. He turned around and offered Tina a lit cigarette.

Tina backed away. ‘No thanks, I mean . . . no.’

‘Go on, take it. I’m trying to give up. I light them and give them away.’

The man was wearing a suit. An expensive suit. His hair was perfect and his brown eyes had that healthy glow which meant he ate well and generally lived an upstanding life.

He could have had any nasty disease hiding in his mouth but Tina put her hand out and took the cigarette.

‘Thanks,’ said the man and disappeared into the crowd.

‘Thanks,’ said Tina to the universe. You never knew who was listening.

She savoured the cigarette until there was nothing left.

She kept Lockie moving towards Martin Place, where the vans would be dispensing food to the homeless. The streetlights came on and the temperature dropped even further. Lockie pulled his hood up over his ears. She held his hand in her pocket, keeping both of them warm.

He didn’t protest at the long walk. He just put one foot in front of the other. Tim used to just sit down. He didn’t care where he was—on an escalator, in the park, or in the middle of the road—he would just sit down when he got tired. Tina would have to pick him up. Even when he was already too big to be carried he liked being picked up. Tina smiled, remembering how she used to yell at him. He didn’t care. He knew she would take care of him. He had absolute faith in her.

Tina stopped moving as a thought hit her like a punch in the stomach. She had thought of Tim and she had smiled. Actually smiled. How had that happened?

She looked down at Lockie’s bent head. He had stopped as well without even asking why.

She had smiled when she thought of Tim. She had never imagined it would be possible. She had tried in those first few months after his death to work her way through the pain and the anger towards accepting what had happened. She had even prayed a little in her own way. The pain was so overwhelming that she didn’t think she would survive it. Sometimes she thought she had a handle on it but then she would be standing in the shower and crying without even knowing. Running away had seemed to be the solution to the pain but you can’t run very far from yourself. Lots of people in the Cross were angry and in pain. It was so easy just to join them and rage at the world. She had raged with the best of them. For two years the anger had kept her company, kept her warm, kept her moving and doing what she had to do.

But today, walking the cold streets with Lockie, she had smiled.

Everything was the same but everything was different. It felt like she had climbed some sort of mountain and now here she was, looking at the view. She felt the air going in and out of her lungs and it felt lighter. It was easier to breathe. She had thought of Tim and she had smiled. After two and a half long, terrible years she had smiled. The anger was still there at the bottom of her stomach but it felt small and hard like a stone. Not like a volcano about to erupt. She started walking again. She wouldn’t think about it too much. She had smiled and that would have to be enough for today.