The Boy Under the Table (24 page)

‘It doesn’t matter, Lockie. You’re just a kid. Nothing you could do could be that bad.’

‘You don’t know what bad is,’ said Lockie, and then he repeated the words to himself. ‘You don’t know what bad is.’

Tina swore under her breath. He made her so angry. ‘Rubbish. Of course I know what bad is.’

‘Have you ever been bad?’

‘I don’t . . . I can’t answer that, Lockie.’

‘Killing is bad.’ The words were almost whispered. Lockie didn’t look at her. Tina swallowed. She had almost managed to forget, but that was stupid. What was going to happen when they got to Cootamundra? There was no way she could keep Lockie from telling what she had done. It would come out when they called in the police and the psychologist and the doctor and whoever else was going to be called to get Lockie sorted.

What was done was done. She was taking Lockie home and then she would deal with whatever came after. Maybe they would look kindly on her bringing him home. Maybe she would be out of prison before she turned thirty? Maybe.

‘You’re right, Lockie; killing is bad. But sometimes . . .’

‘Killing a spider is not bad.’

‘No, killing a spider is not bad, especially if it tries to bite you.’

‘My dad helps Rebecca’s dad kill the locusts before they get to the crops. That’s not bad.’

‘No, that’s not bad. I guess they have to protect the crops.’

‘Some killing is okay,’ he said slowly and Tina could see him thinking through the problem.

‘Yeah, some killing is okay.’

‘I’ll always love you no matter what,’ he said fiercely, ‘and I won’t tell about the killing.’

Tina felt her eyes get hot. Jesus, what had she let herself in for? Her heart turned over and suddenly she felt it grow in her chest.

‘I’ll always . . . I’ll always love you too, Lockie, but you don’t have to keep any secrets, okay? Tell your mum and dad everything.’

‘Not the bad stuff.’

‘Yes, Lockie, even the bad stuff. They won’t be angry at you. They’ll be angry at the uniform.’

‘He said they would be mad at me. He said they would hate me.’

Tina saw her hand on the poker again. Some killing was good.

‘Lockie, look at me.’

He turned away from the yellow fields and his eyes met hers.

‘I’ve told you before and you have to believe me: everything the uniform said was a lie. Everything. He lied about taking you to your parents and he lied about them not looking for you and he lied about them being angry with you. Whatever he did or you did he made you do it. He made you do it and he was bad and a liar and you are a good kid.’

‘He said they wouldn’t love me ever again.’

Tina looked out of the window. The thing about being a kid was that you had to hear the good stuff a lot before you believed it. You only had to hear the bad shit once before it began to eat away at you.

She tried again. ‘He was lying, Lockie. Everything he said to you was a lie. From the moment you first met him he was lying. Some people are like that. He was a grown-up and he was really, really bad. Do you understand, Lockie? Do you get that it wasn’t your fault?’

‘It wasn’t my fault?’

‘That’s right, it wasn’t your fault. Kids can’t control everything. There is nothing you can do about some stuff.’

‘It wasn’t my fault.’

‘Right, it wasn’t your fault and your parents will still love you no matter what.’

Lockie turned back to the window. The words had satisfied him for now.

There was nothing more anyone could have done, Christina.

There is nothing kids can do about some stuff
, thought Tina.
Even big kids who are really smart. There are some things they can’t control
.

It sucked but it was true.

Tina leaned across Lockie and blew on the window. In the mist she had created she wrote:
Lockie is a good boy.

Lockie laughed, an actual chuckle, and rubbed it out but she did it again. He rubbed it out again and this time he wrote:
Tina is a good girl.

‘That’s the truth, Lockie, and don’t you forget it.’

‘Yeah, that’s the truth,’ he said.

And then they arrived.

When the train started to slow Tina gathered everything together.

Lockie was quiet but she could see him indentifying landmarks.

It was time for Tina to start thinking again but her brain felt sluggish. She had no plan and no idea what the next few hours would hold for her—or the next few years. She wished there was someone to whom she could just hand everything over. Right at that moment she missed her mother. Not the mother she had been after the divorce but the mother she had been before everything fell apart. That mother had listened to everything Tina had to say. That mother had explained difficult words and played Monopoly. She had read stories and made the best roast chicken. That was the mother Tina missed. That mother would have taken charge and sorted everything out. The mother she had left didn’t seem capable of anything anymore, least of all loving her daughter.

Was she any different now? Had she moved on with her life? Had she gone back to being the woman Tim and Tina had known before their father left?

Please, Tina, just give me some time. I know you’re taking care of Tim for me and I know you think I’ve let you down but I’ve lost the love of my life. I just need some time.
But then she found Jack and she only had time for him.

Tina knew now that if she’d been older she might have been able to understand her mother choosing Jack and Jack’s way of life over her daughter. If she had just been a couple of years older she could have played along and said her prayers and known that she was close to moving out anyway. She would even have been happy that her mother had someone to take care of her. But she had been too young to tolerate Jack trying to turn her into someone else and too young to watch her mother hand her life over to another man.

If she went back home now it would be impossible to explain who she was to her mother and to Jack. It was hard to explain to herself. But things changed. Tina could feel that the future now held something different from what it had held two days ago. It might hold the terrible spectre of prison but even that wouldn’t be forever. It might be possible that there would be a time when she could explain to her mother, when she could try to connect with her again. It could be possible. Anything was possible.

What would her mother say if just she turned up on her doorstep? What would all the people Tina had known say?

‘You could be school captain one day if you stay on track,’ Mrs Winton had said.

‘Please, Tina, don’t let go of my hand,’ Tim had said.

‘I’m the one who’s lost a child,’ her mother had said.

‘Stay away from the drunk ones, they can’t get hard and they blame you,’ Ruby had said.

‘You could take me home,’ Lockie had said.

‘You won’t be back,’ Mark had said.

‘Go home, Tina,’ Arik had said.

What do I say?
thought Tina.
What do I say?

Tina took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, calming her body. Right now she had nothing to say. Right now she was here and she would just have to be here. The sleeping bag was rolled up in her arms and her bag was on her back.

They stood by the doors as the train eased into the station. Lockie held her hand in a tight grip.

‘Put up your hood, Lockie, it looks cold outside.’ She wanted his face obscured until she knew where they were going and what to do. It wasn’t a big town. It wouldn’t be long before someone recognised him.

What to do, what to do . . .

The doors opened and they stepped out onto the platform. They were the only people getting off the train. There was someone working in the ticket booth but he was engrossed in his newspaper. They stood in the cold for a minute.

‘We’re here,’ said Lockie.

‘Yeah, we’re here. Do you live far from the station?’

‘Yup.’

‘Okay.’

What to do, what to do . . .

‘I think . . .’ said Lockie.

‘Yeah?’

‘I think we should go and see Pete.’

‘Pete?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Pete the policeman?’

‘He’s one of the good guys,’ said Lockie. The words were meant for his own ears. ‘He’s one of the good guys. He has a car. He’ll take us home.’

It’s not my home, Lockie
, Tina wanted to say. She wanted to say it and she didn’t want to say it. Somewhere inside her she wished it was her home.

Lockie was in charge. He guided her out of the station.

‘How far is the police station?’

‘Not far.’

It was lunchtime in Cootamundra. People were on the streets but the wind was there to help as everyone kept their heads down to avoid it.

Lockie didn’t hesitate. He knew where he was going.

Tina looked around. Brick-faced buildings that looked like they dated back to a time when there were horses and carts sat quietly beside wide, tree-lined streets. Cars were parked at ninety degree angles and there was still room to spare. There was more air here in the open spaces. The town was busy but it felt like time moved a little slower. The post office with its large tower and embedded clockface was the tallest building Tina could see. She identified wattle trees and was pleased that she had remembered something from her year eight biology lessons.

As they walked, they passed some winter tourists studying maps and taking pictures of the beautiful buildings. Tina wanted to be them. She wanted to have nothing else to think about except where to go for lunch.

Lockie was right. It wasn’t far to the police station. At the door they both stood still for a moment. Despite the biting wind Tina almost wished the walk had been longer. She felt like she needed more time. The buzzing in her head was back again. She couldn’t get the thoughts to line themselves up. All she could do was follow Lockie.

She knew she should be the one pushing Lockie inside but she could feel his hesitation. She wasn’t hesitant. She was terrified. Once the two of them stepped through the door everything would change. She knew that she could just leave him there. She could turn and bolt to the station and get on a train heading anywhere but back to the Cross.

Lockie would go into the station by himself. He trusted Pete. Pete was one of the good guys.

But she had done enough running. She had been running from everything for such a long time she couldn’t go one more step. It was time to stop.

‘Ready, Lockie?’

‘Yeah, ready.’

Tina stepped forward and pushed the door.

‘Tina?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’ll always love you no matter what.’

‘I’ll always love you too, Lockie.’

She swallowed the lump in her throat and they walked in together.

It wasn’t like any kind of police station Tina had ever seen. When she and Mark had been into the one in the Cross to ask for help with Ruby noise had filled the air. They had chosen to go in the early hours of the morning, hoping to find one tired police officer willing to listen, but no one who worked in the Cross had the luxury of being tired.

The station had been filled with people. Drunks sobering up and junkies coming down ranted at men and women with bored expressions on their faces. A man held a rag to his bloody nose and one of the girls Tina knew looked in the other direction. The phones rang and the acrid smell of urine filled the air.

No one had wanted to listen. They kept asking about drugs and who Tina and Mark thought they had killed. Mark had been flying but Tina was just Tina and still they hadn’t wanted to listen.

The cop at the front desk had said, ‘We’ve got bigger fish to fry than what you think has happened to your imaginary friend, kids. Off you go. Stop wasting my time.’

And so off they went and Ruby died alone, locked in her flat.

In Cootamundra the station was quiet. Tina looked around but before she could see anyone she saw the poster on the wall. Lockie saw it too. It stopped him mid-stride.

It was surrounded by For Sale notices and babysitting flyers.

Over the months it could have become covered over as hope was lost but it hadn’t been. Right in the middle, with some clear space around it, was the colour poster of a blue-eyed boy. His head was covered in golden curls and he had a deep dimple on his right cheek. His face had been enlarged so that every freckle could be counted. He was Lachlan Williams and in this town they were still looking for him.

He looked nothing like the pale, skinny boy Tina was with.

Underneath the picture were the words:

Missing:

Lachlan Williams

Aged 8

Disappeared from the Easter Show April 2010

If you have any information please contact:

There were a whole lot of numbers and a website address.

Lockie stared at the poster for a minute. He pushed his hood back down and ran his hand over his brush-cut blond hair.

‘What—’ Tina began.

‘He shaved it,’ said Lockie before she could complete the question. ‘Every few weeks, when it got longer, he would shave it again.’ His voice was two hundred years old.

Tina saw her hand on the poker and felt a surge of triumph at what she had done. Some people just deserved to die. It wasn’t a nice thought but it was true. You couldn’t change someone who was fundamentally evil.

Of everything Lockie must have suffered, and Tina could not even wrap her mind around what he must have gone through, the shaving of his head seemed somehow the worst.

The uniform had changed who Lockie was. He was a golden boy with golden curls and the uniform had taken the gold from him. Lockie looked nothing like the poster. His face was all angles and his smile was lost. He hadn’t needed to conceal himself beneath a hood. No one would have recognised him anyway.

They walked slowly over to the desk at the front of the police station.

There was a large man standing behind it. His hair was grey and his skin was deeply creased. His beer belly was just beginning to strain the buttons of his shirt. He was tapping on a computer, leaning against the counter. He gave the two of them a cursory glance. He clearly hadn’t heard them come in. ‘What can I do for you kids?’