The Mother Fault

by Kate Mildenhall

  Her screen rings, unidentified, a quick churn in her guts. Let it be him. She presses the button on the dash to answer.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mrs Elliot?’

  Not him.

  ‘Yes?’ Mim has her foot on the brake, sees a gravel turnout up ahead, pulls in, still too fast.

  ‘Mrs Elliot, Karen Eton from the Department. You met my colleagues from Asset Protection at your home?’

  They have found him. Say it. Just say it. ‘You’ve found him?’

  ‘Not yet, Mrs Elliot. But we do need to ask that you comply with the agreement you made.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘We were very clear. The agreement, Mrs Elliot. That you wouldn’t travel.’

  She plays dumb. ‘I’m at home, my mum’s, my family home. Sorry – our passports – I didn’t realise I couldn’t go home…’ She trails off.

  ‘It’s in the contract.’

  She wants to spit at this woman: Your people didn’t let me read the fucking contract. I couldn’t think.

  ‘The consequences for non-compliance with Department directives are quite clear, Mrs Elliot.’

  Her chest starts to tighten.

  ‘I’m sure you’re aware that citizens who struggle to make good choices for themselves and their families are well looked after in our BestLife estates.’

  Her breathing is rapid now. She glances in the rear-vision mirror – the empty seats where her children always are.

  ‘Are you there, Mrs Elliot?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, her voice suddenly very small.

  ‘We understand this is difficult for you, Mrs Elliot, but please understand we have a job to do. There’s a temporary block in place on the bank accounts in your and your husband’s names.’

  ‘But, you can’t –’

  The voice softens. ‘We’re on your side, Mrs Elliot. We’re on the same side.’

  She is shrill now, hates herself for it. ‘Where is Ben?’

  ‘Mrs Elliot,’ a shift in the timbre of the woman’s voice, soft but now self-satisfied, as though she’d been waiting to pull out her ace, ‘as long as you comply with our requests, you have no need to be concerned. Look after your children now. We wouldn’t want your children to be separated from both their parents.’

  Gut twists. She has no words.

  They know exactly where she is. Where the kids are. The lights on the dash blink. She scratches at her palm. The tiny lump there.

  ‘We’ll check in again tomorrow.’

  Mim’s voice is small when she replies, not her own.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She sits very still when the call finishes.

  Look after your children now.

  Adrenaline splices her guts and she pulls the car out in a fast arc, U-turns back on to the road, the way she came. She puts her foot down.

  7

  She lets the screen door slam and her mum and the kids look up when she walks into the kitchen.

  ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Yeah, I called Heidi to let her know I was coming. She’s desperate to see the kids, thought I’d take them over now.’ Mim moves towards Sam. She needs to put her hands on her children.

  ‘Oh.’ Her mother’s face falls. ‘We were quite looking forward to our afternoon.’

  ‘We’ll keep that for tomorrow, hey? Heidi was really keen. She thought we could have pizza for dinner.’

  ‘Yesss,’ Sam says and pumps his fist.

  ‘You kids pack an overnight bag, yeah? I just have to check something with Steve.’

  Her mother frowns. ‘You’re staying there?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Mim’s heart races. She is making this up as she goes along, all she knows is that she can’t be here when the Department come. ‘Just in case I have a couple of wines.’

  ‘Oh, no one checks that out here.’

  ‘It’s not the checking, Mum. It’s being able to drive safely.’

  ‘Of course.’ She stands. ‘Well then, you two go and pack your bags while your mother does her thing.’

  * * *

  Mim paces through the dust to the big house. At the front door she calls out, can hear Jill singing, the splash of the bath.

  ‘You there, Steve?’

  ‘Having lunch,’ he calls from the dining room as she walks down the hall.

  She stands in the doorway. He has a thick sandwich on a plate in front of him. She wonders if Jill made it for him. He doesn’t get up. ‘You right?’ he says.

  ‘Thanks for taking the kids out this morning.’

  ‘Was nothing.’

  ‘They had fun.’

  ‘Good.’ He looks at her, impatient.

  ‘Network’s still pretty woeful out here. Thought that was all meant to be sorted?’

  He scoffs. ‘Ten fucking years it’s taken them. Could’ve done it better if I’d laid the lines my fucking self.’

  ‘Still picks up your chips though?’

  ‘Ha,’ he laughs scornfully. ‘Yeah, that never seems to be a problem. Quick to tell me if the dog’s registration’s due at 6 am on the day, but I can’t send a bloody text message.’

  ‘Typical.’

  He picks up the sandwich, looks at her. ‘That it?’

  ‘Mum’s money all sorted?’

  ‘What kind of question is that?’

  ‘Allowed to ask, aren’t I?’

  ‘She say something?’

  ‘No. I just know there were some troubles, early on, after…’

  ‘And they’re sorted. All right?’ He places the sandwich down carefully. She can see the red creeping up his neck. ‘She’s got all her own money, Dad’s super, the transfer of the farm. She’s got heaps.’ He looks as though he might stand up and come at her. ‘And no, I don’t control it, she does. What the fuck would you know anyway? You live in a different fucking state. Are you seriously asking me this?’

  She holds up both hands. ‘I was only asking.’

  ‘It’s like you get off on it.’

  That’s not who I am, she thinks. It’s only for you I cause trouble, you and Dad.

  ‘All good?’ Jill is at the door, Hamish wet and towel-wrapped in her arms. ‘You guys okay?’

  ‘All good,’ Mim says, smiling. ‘Just heading back.’ She puts her hand on Hamish’s cheek.

  ‘See you later, alligator.’

  ‘See you later,’ Jill calls as Mim lets the door thwack behind her.

  * * *

  She stuffs all her clothes in her bag. The kids’ clothes, a couple of the books she’d shoved in from home, the chargers, sweeps everything – face cream, tampons – off the top of the bedside table where it has spilled from her handbag, and stuffs it back in.

  Look after your children now.

  They may not be back.

  They may not ever be back.

  She forces herself to keep moving, leaves the bedsheets tousled, the kids’ dirty clothes in a pile.

  ‘C’mon, you two – Ess, you got your ball?’

  She hears the slam of it against the wall in reply.

  ‘Come and give Grandma a kiss.’

  ‘Why?’ Sam calls. ‘We’ll be back tomorrow.’

  ‘Because it’s nice, that’s why,’ her mother says, sweeping Sam into a hug from behind and tickling him so he chokes on a laugh.

  Mim feels something lurch inside her. Essie runs in and plants a kiss on her grandmother’s face.

  ‘Love you!’ she calls, the excitement of pizza in her voice already.

  Mim hesitates, unsure if her voice will betray her. She will be back, she tells herself, she will be back so soon, she will hear from Ben and they’ll sort it all out, and she’ll be back and more, she’ll come back more often, and she’ll sort all this shit out with Steve, she’ll be a better daughter, if only she gets to be back here very soon.

  ‘Mum, can I borrow your bank card? Just realised I’ve left mine at home, and the shops in town might not be chip-ready yet, yeah?’

  ‘Of course, darling, though you
might find we’re nearly as good as your city down there.’ She smiles and rummages in her bag, hands over the card, repeats the pin.

  Mim wonders whether she underestimates her mother. ‘Thanks, Mum, I’ll just transfer –’

  Her mother holds up her hand. She believes money talk to be grotesque.

  ‘Love you,’ Mim says, and puts her free arm around her mother’s back, gripping tightly for a moment. Her mother smells of her floral perfume, of hard soap, the same as she always has.

  ‘Go on, then,’ her mother says and unhooks herself, and Mim forces herself to walk to the car, to not look back.

  * * *

  ‘Well, this is a surprise.’ Heidi’s smile is big and true when she opens the door. ‘Can’t get you to reply to a message, but get you on my doorstep.’ Heidi hugs Mim quick and hard.

  She looks the same. Dense. Brown, shoulder-length hair parted in the centre in a way that is both utilitarian and sometimes fashionable, not that she’d know or care. Jeans and work boots. Red chequered shirt over a grey t-shirt. Her skin is tanned and lined and Mim thinks her old friend probably looks both older and younger than she does.

  ‘So,’ Heidi says, sizing up Essie and Sam, who are standing quietly behind Mim, ‘these are the Elliot children. You two got big!’ She laughs, and the kids laugh with her and the ice is broken.

  ‘Cuppa? Beer?’ she offers in the kitchen. ‘Or…’ she pulls open the fridge door. ‘Yeah, water, milk? Sorry, wasn’t expecting guests.’

  Essie looks at her, head inclined. Mim ushers them out the back with the soccer ball before Essie can ask.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t message,’ she says to Heidi, accepting the beer her friend is holding out. ‘Things have been a bit hectic.’

  ‘You still good for the job?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You drove all the way up here to tell me you can’t do it?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Heidi nods. Pulls the chair out at the kitchen table.

  ‘Go on then.’

  Heidi’s always been good like that. No bullshit.

  ‘How do you track animals?’

  Heidi cocks her head. ‘Animals?’

  ‘For your work. How do you track them?’

  Heidi shrugs. ‘GPS. Same as us.’ She waggles her hand in front of her face. ‘Implants.’

  Mim nods. ‘Like, exactly the same as ours?’

  Heidi draws her brow in. ‘Not exactly. Not encrypted the same way. Ours have more capacity – data, different capabilities, transactional stuff, but the GPS, yeah, the same.’ She leans back. ‘Why?’

  ‘You ever take them out?’

  ‘Have done,’ she says, nodding slowly now, as though she understands that everything is going to make sense in a minute, but she’s not sure if she wants it to.

  ‘Difficult?’

  ‘What? To take them out?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Depends who put them in. Where. If they’ve been coated with biobond.’ Heidi squints one eye, takes a swig. ‘What’s going on?’

  Mim swallows too, cold and buzzing. ‘You got OMNI yet?’

  Heidi shakes her head, laughs. ‘Not yet. Last place on earth to get anything remotely up to date.’

  Mim nods, relieved. ‘Could you take them out of humans?’

  Heidi’s eyebrows go up, but she holds her nerve, pulls her mouth down in the same way. ‘Probably,’ she says.

  There is quiet then for a bit. Mim isn’t sure, now that she’s crossed this first line, whether she is capable of crossing the next.

  Heidi breaks the silence. ‘You in trouble, Mim?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  ‘And the kids?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Heidi takes a long, even drink. ‘Where’s Ben?’

  Mim shakes her head.

  ‘That’s your problem?’

  Mim nods.

  Heidi lets her breath out from between her teeth.

  ‘I’d give you a local anaesthetic, tell you to toughen up and then I’d dig it out. They can get pretty –’ she screws up her face, searching for the word, ‘enmeshed, but it would be relatively easy for an adult your age.’ She leans back in her chair, looks out the window to where the kids are smashing the ball against the back fence. ‘Kids are different. The muscle, skin, nerves – it will all have grown around theirs. Would be tricky. A local might not cut it.’

  Mim is nodding. The aftertaste of the beer is bitter on her tongue and she pushes the bottle away.

  ‘There any other way?’

  ‘Leaving it in there is the way most of the population deal with it.’

  Mim is silent.

  ‘I take it that’s not an option?’

  ‘I don’t think so, no.’

  Heidi takes a deep breath. ‘The Department?’

  Mim nods.

  Heidi stands up suddenly and goes to the sink, her back to Mim. ‘You took a fucking risk asking me.’ Her voice is low now, has a fierce energy that wasn’t there before. ‘You know it’s completely fucking illegal to remove them, right? If they find you, me, it’s straight to fucking BestLife.’ She shakes her head. ‘Don’t ask anyone else. You can’t trust anyone else with this. Right?’

  ‘I didn’t know what else to do. They’re coming for us in the morning.’

  ‘Have you told the kids?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘About any of it?’

  Mim drops her head. ‘I don’t know what to say to them.’

  Heidi is all business now, the edges of her grown hard. ‘Look, you’ve got to tell them. They’ll have to fully cooperate for it to go smoothly.’

  Mim is nodding. ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘Couple of hours. Unless something fucks up.’

  ‘You would do this?’

  Heidi looks away. A ripple of something like pain, like sadness across her face. ‘I don’t really have a choice, now, huh?’

  A flash of resentment in Mim. ‘Course you do. Just say no. It’s fine. I’ll find another way.’

  ‘No!’ Heidi wheels around. ‘No – don’t ask anyone else. It’s fucking dangerous.’ Her eyes are dark, face drawn. She already looks like she has aged in the minutes since they have been here. ‘I’ll have to get them back out to the farm,’ she says to herself, turning away.

  Mim shakes her head. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The chips. I can’t dump them here, can I? Eventually they’ll come looking.’

  Mim hasn’t thought this through, a sinking feeling. ‘I can’t ask you. It’s too much.’

  ‘You already did,’ Heidi says flatly. ‘I’ve got my gear at the lab. There won’t be anyone there. Tell the kids.’

  ‘Thank you.’ It is not enough. She wants to push her thanks into Heidi’s bones, have her feel Mim’s relief that she is not in charge, for this bit, that Heidi is bearing the weight of this decision, of Ben being gone. But Heidi is already grabbing the keys, heading for the door.

  8

  She doesn’t tell the kids. She doesn’t know what to say. In the car, when they ask if they are getting the pizza now, she is vague, says it’s still early, following Heidi’s double-cabin ute into town and round to the campus where the lab is.

  She still hasn’t told them as Heidi swipes them into her lab, the strange antiseptic smell of it cool as they enter.

  Heidi introduces the kids to the only animals in there at the moment, a pair of little bush rats racing circles in their cage.

  ‘Poor little fellas want to get back out there.’

  ‘Will they though?’ Sam says, all big-eyed. ‘Will you put them back?’

  ‘Sure we will – they’re precious. Not many of these little guys left,’ Heidi reassures him. ‘We do some tests, take some notes, some DNA, implant them both with a tracker and send them back out.’

  ‘Hah, like me,’ Sam says, and holds up his palm.

  Heidi looks at Mim. ‘Yeah, like you, mate.’

  ‘So, kids, this is the deal.’ Mim moves over to t
hem, while Heidi starts quietly laying out instruments on the bench. ‘You know the chips in your hands?’

  Essie is wary-eyed. ‘Yeah,’ she says.

  Sam looks confused.

  ‘And you know how you can use them for lots of different things?’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Essie again.

  ‘Well, other people use them too. Yours, I mean.’

  Heidi is angling her body away, but Mim can see the flash of the surgical instruments. She is suddenly filled with doubt.

  ‘I can’t…’ she says softly.

  Heidi moves closer. ‘We use the trackers to work out where our little mate here is, right?’ she says.

  The kids look at her, nod.

  ‘Well, they do the same with you.’

  ‘I know this already,’ Essie says, interrupting.

  ‘Course you do,’ says Heidi. ‘You’re smart. So you’ll understand that right now, it’s important no one knows where you are.’

  ‘What? Mum, why?’ Essie’s face is panicked.

  Mim reaches for her. ‘Just for a little while. It’s important. For Dad. It’s important for Dad that we can’t be found.’

  ‘Why, Mum? I don’t get it!’ Essie is angry, Sam is working himself up, his little face moving between confusion and panic.

  ‘Because Dad loves you so much, and the most important thing to him is that you are safe. That we are all safe. And the only way we can be safe now is not to be found.’

  ‘Where’s Dad? I want him. I want to talk to him!’ Essie’s voice is tumbling over itself.

  Heidi’s face clouds. Mim shushes, soothes. ‘We can’t right now, but we are going to find him. But we’ve just got to be a bit secret about it.’

  ‘So can we turn them off?’ Sam is looking at his hand, running his fingers over his palm.

  She swallows. Takes a deep breath. ‘No, Sam. We can’t.’

  ‘Then,’ his little face is crumpling, ‘then what are we going to do? How do we not get found? I want to turn it off!’ He holds his hand away towards her. Eyes wild.

  Essie is looking around now, taking in Heidi, the instruments laid out on the table. ‘She’s going to cut them out of us.’