The Boy Under the Table (22 page)

‘Everyone?’

‘Everyone who has a farm.’

‘Oh,’ said Tina.

Lockie rubbed at his stomach again.

‘’Ere,’ said the man opposite.

Tina turned to look at him. He was holding out two large pieces of the sandwich.

‘’Ere, take it.’

Tina recognised the Italian accent. That explained the sandwich.

‘Oh no, we couldn’t,’ said Tina. She held on to Lockie who was already leaning forward to accept the gift. Why the gift? What did the man want?

‘Yes you can. Take it. Is too much for me.’ The man laughed and gestured at his belly. ‘I eat too much.’

‘Oh, thank you, but we . . . I mean, we really couldn’t . . .’ Tina swallowed hard. Her mouth was watering.

‘Take it,’ said the man firmly. ‘The boy, he is hungry. I don’t like to see the little boy hungry. My grandson he is also hungry all the time. He need to grow. He need to eat to grow.’

Tina gave up the fight and reached out to take the offering. She handed the biggest piece to Lockie.

‘Say thank you, Lockie,’ she said.

‘Thank you, mister,’ said Lockie obediently.

Tina and the man smiled at each other.

‘He is your boy?’

‘He’s my . . . my little brother.’

The man took a bite of the remaining piece of the sandwich. A piece of capsicum landed on his belly and he picked it up delicately with the yellow-stained fingers of a serious smoker.

‘How come you don’t know he live on farm?’

Tina shook her head and bit into her sandwich. She had known it was a stupid answer.

‘It’s all right,’ said the man. ‘I don’t ask no more questions. My children they tell me I ask too many questions. You must not be so worried. I see you worry. No more questions.’

‘Yeah,’ said Tina vaguely.

‘I like your food,’ said Lockie. He had already finished his sandwich. Tina took one more bite of hers and gave the rest to him. It had been a taste sensation and Tina could have eaten the whole thing.

‘He is hungry, your brother.’

‘He’s always hungry.’

‘You have no money?’

‘Oh no, we’re okay. We’ll meet my dad in Cootamundra. It’s not long now.’

Lockie looked at Tina but kept his mouth busy with the sandwich.

The man nodded and smiled. Tina knew he didn’t believe one word coming out of her mouth but he didn’t seem concerned by the lies.

Tina rolled the words ‘my dad’ around in her head. How long since she’d said that?

Why didn’t the man ask her more questions? Was he storing up the lies to use against her?

Tina shook her head. Get a grip, stupid girl.

‘My son he is in Goulburn. He say is a nice town. I go visit today. My wife she is there five weeks with the grandchildren. Today I go for two days. I must work.’

‘What work do you do?’ asked Tina, watching the man wipe the knife with his serviette and put it away.

‘You eat my work,’ said the man.

Tina laughed. ‘You own a sandwich shop?’

The man nodded.

‘You make amazing sandwiches,’ said Tina. She was gushing a little. It was the relief. He was just a man. A father and a grandfather. Just a man on a train who made sandwiches.

She felt her body relax against the seat.

Lockie leaned his head up against the window. His eyelids were drooping again. He seemed to be sleepy all the time, but maybe that was just the long night. She hoped it was just the long night. She opened up the sleeping bag and covered him, and then she tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

The man sighed. Tina opened her eyes and leaned forward. ‘Thanks for the food, it was lovely. Thank you very much.’

‘Ah,’ said the man, ‘is nothing. How old is the boy? Look like he eight?’

‘Nine.’

‘Ah. My boy was very naughty then. He liked to climb trees, but always he fall out and then he cry, “Mama, papa.” I go to the hospital so many times they say when they see me, “Hello, Mr Accardo—did your boy fall out the tree again?”’ The man laughed and Tina laughed with him. She could see the boy, a slim version of his father with dark curly hair climbing higher and higher in a tree and then letting go by mistake. She wondered if he had been scared as he fell or if he would have known that his mother and father would be there to help. Kids needed someone around when they fell or cut themselves or got hurt. Tim liked
Spiderman
bandaids when he was five and
Simpsons
bandaids when he was seven.

They should put Simpsons characters on IV bags
, she thought.

The man tipped his head back and within minutes was asleep. His soft snores filled the space.

Tina felt her body go liquid. She curled herself up on the seat and let sleep drag her down. This time there were no dreams.

Pete

Pete was tapping keys on the computer and trying not to think about the call that had come from the city the previous day. But after a sleepless night he couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

When he had heard it was Lisa on the phone his heart lifted a little at the possibility of good news; but then he had sat in silence and just listened to what Lisa was saying. He felt time stop and his hope sink. After Lisa said goodbye he realised she had been crying but he hadn’t been able to think of anyone else. He had pushed the button to end the phone call and then stumbled over to his desk and put his head in his hands.

He hadn’t wanted to cry. He knew someone could have walked in at any moment and it wouldn’t look good if he had turned into a mess. Instead he breathed deeply, swallowing the pain. Margie, who came in to do some admin work a few days a week, was out shopping. He had been grateful for the empty station. He needed some time to get himself together.

Finally he had lifted his head and dialled Doug’s mobile number. He wouldn’t call the house. There was no way he could have spoken to Sarah.

He knew he should have gone round to the farm. That was what he should have done, but he could not deal with the look on Doug’s face. There were some things that should be private. Grief was one of them. He and Doug were the kind of men who needed time alone to work through things. Doug would appreciate having some space to absorb the information. Pete had known Doug would not want to be looking at anyone when he got the news. He would not want to be looked at either. He would have to tell Sarah, of course, but Pete knew Doug would only relay the news after he had sorted through his thoughts alone in a field. He would only tell his wife what had probably happened to their boy, to Lockie, after he’d buried his grief in the rich soil of his farm. Only then would he be able to stand straight while the wind of his wife’s grief tried to push him over.

Pete had waited for the mobile to be answered.

He wanted it to go to voicemail. He needed it to go to voicemail. But Doug said, ‘G’day Pete’ and Pete could hear he was somewhere out in the open doing what he did best.

‘Hey, mate, how’s it going?’

‘Yeah, you know, much the same. It was great having Margie come over the other day. She’s really good with Sammy and Sarah managed to get some extra rest.’

‘That’s good, Doug. Anytime you know. Margie loves to be there.’

‘Yeah, I know. Thanks.’

‘Where are the boys?’

‘I’ve got them over at the other end. We’re getting through all the fencing now.’

‘That’s good. Your dad always did the fences round about now.’

‘I learned from the best.’

‘Yeah, you did . . . he was one of the good ones. And Sammy?’

‘Sammy is spending the day with a friend.’

Pete had felt the words sitting in his throat, but he couldn’t get them to move out into the open.

‘So . . . so why have you called, Pete? You’re not one for a casual chat.’

‘I . . . ah . . . look, Doug, the thing is . . .’ Jesus, how did you say such a thing? How did you tell a father this news? How did you tell a friend? Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.

‘Pete—you still with me, mate?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, sorry, Doug, sorry, I . . .’

‘You need to spit it out, Pete. Whatever it is you just need to say it so I can deal with it.’ Doug’s voice had been low and shot through with a sad awareness of what Pete might have to say.

‘Look, nothing is for sure right now, it’s all speculation, but the cops from Sydney wanted me to let you know so that you could get . . . get prepared.’

There had been silence on the other end of the phone. Pete had heard the wind chasing itself around the open field. He knew Doug was there; he just needed to wait until Doug was ready to hear what Pete had to say.

‘Tell me,’ said Doug.

‘You need to listen, Doug, but I don’t want you jumping to conclusions.’

‘Just tell me Pete.’

‘They found a dead guy in a house in Sydney. They think he was killed in a breakin gone wrong or something like that. They brought in the dogs and they found a whole lot of . . .’

‘What? What did they find, Pete?’

‘Fuck, Doug . . . I just don’t know how to say this. They found a whole lot of skeletons buried in the backyard. It’s only bones so they have to figure out ways to identify them.’

‘Lockie . . .’ breathed Doug.

‘You need to know, Doug, that it doesn’t mean that this guy had Lockie. He was some kind of lunatic but that doesn’t mean he had Lockie.’

‘Then why are you telling me about him?’

‘The cops in Sydney just want you to know that they’ll be checking things against your records and . . .’

‘And what, Pete? Spit it out.’

‘The guy was a guard at the Show. He was a security guard at the Easter Show.’

Pete had imagined Doug, out in the field, sinking to his knees next to a perfectly mended fence and resting his forehead in the dirt.

‘I . . . I . . . What?’

‘Doug, please, I don’t want you to jump to any conclusions. This guy may have had nothing to do with Lockie. We don’t know.’

‘How long would a body have to be in the ground before it’s just bones, Pete?’

‘Fuck, Doug, you’d know that better than me.’

‘A lot longer than four months, Pete, and it’s only been four months.’

‘Doug, you have to prepare yourself. You have to prepare Sarah. It won’t be long before they have some answers. You have to get ready, Doug.’

‘Jesus, Pete,’ yelled Doug. ‘Don’t you think I’ve fucking been ready every day for the last four months? Every hour of every day for the last four months? I can’t breathe in without being ready. I know all those statistics. They quoted them at me when they wanted me to go home. If a kid isn’t found within the first twenty-four hours there’s a chance he will never be found alive. I know that, Pete. Don’t you think I fucking know that? Every time that fucking phone rings I can see Sarah’s heart hit her feet. We’re ready, Pete. We’ve been ready since the day we lost him. We’re ready but we will never be ready. There is no way to be ready for this. No way . . .’

Doug had sunk into silence and all Pete had heard was his ragged desperate breathing on the other end of the phone. Finally he said, ‘I can’t tell her, Pete. I can’t tell her until they know for sure. She’s hanging on by a thread, Pete, and I can’t lose her as well. Tell me when they know for sure and then I’ll tell her.’ His voice trailed off, all the anger leaving him exhausted and trembling.

‘What about you Doug, how will you cope?’

‘Jesus, Pete,’ laughed Doug, ‘If you think any of us are actually coping you’re fucked in the head. Even you and Margie aren’t coping. No one copes. We put one foot in front of the other and hope like fuck that we don’t hit a wall.’

Any other time Pete would have pulled rank. He would have reminded Doug that he was a police officer and a lot older than Doug. He would have reminded Doug that his father would have taken a belt to him if he had heard him talk to Pete like that. But this was not any other time.

‘We’re here for you, mate. Whatever you need just let us know.’

‘Thanks, Pete, and I’m sorry I . . .’

Pete had heard the tears lock in Doug’s throat.

‘No worries, mate. You just call if you need us.’

‘I will and you’ll call when . . .’

‘When we know for sure I’ll come out. I’ll come out and let you know.’

Pete had dropped his phone on the desk. His hand had been shaking and he could feel sweat beading his forehead even in the chilly station.

He was old, he felt so old. What the fuck had happened to the world? How did people like this exist? Who were the kids buried in that yard?

He had known that he wouldn’t tell Margie when she came back from doing the shopping. If the news came through . . . if they matched the records . . . Jesus. He would tell Margie then and he would call Doug and they would go out to the farm. He would take Margie with him, and Dr Samuels and the priest. He had felt like a coward for thinking it but he couldn’t do it alone. He couldn’t tell the boy his son was dead. He couldn’t look at his face and not have Margie to hold on to. Dr Samuels would be on hand with injections to numb the pain and those words only he was good at. He usually didn’t have much time for Father Richard but he was good when he needed to be. They would all be there and they would tell Doug and Sarah together. They would tell Doug and Sarah that Lockie was dead and buried in someone’s yard.

They would tell them and then they would wait until Doug and Sarah were ready, if they ever were ready, and then they would help them pick up the pieces.

That was what mates did. That was what family did. That was what everyone did but it shouldn’t have to be done.

It shouldn’t have to be done.

Pete focused on the computer again. He tapped at the keys and waited for the time to pass and the call to come.

Tina

The man left the train sometime after Tina nodded off. She felt the train stopping and starting but she couldn’t quite wake up to see where they were. She woke with a start and felt her heart race as she looked for Lockie. He hadn’t moved. He was curled up on his seat fast asleep. He was covered in the warm sleeping bag and sweating a little in the heated carriage but she supposed that too much heat was better than the opposite.