She nods.
* * *
‘So, you be round for a few more days?’ Nick says, grabbing his keys off the table as he heads off.
‘Don’t know.’
‘Mum said you were having some trouble. Your chips, or something?’
She senses that he is digging, and she likes that he is.
‘Your mum said you managed to get away without one?’
‘Yeah, never in one place long enough for them to get a hold of me.’
‘I didn’t really have a choice.’ Maybe that’s not true, she thinks.
‘Figured I’d use the conscientious objector line if I ever got pulled up.’
She smiles. ‘That work?’
‘Always worth a try,’ he says and returns the smile.
Her stomach fizzes.
Mim looks at his face. Remembers how she trusted him once. She decides to take the gamble. ‘Anyway, I sorted it,’ she says.
‘Yeah?’
She rubs her finger along the line of glue. She won’t be able to feel it in a couple of days. ‘Yeah,’ she says.
He looks away. ‘Good for you,’ he says softly.
* * *
Later, kids in bed, she sits on the couch on the back patio having swiped one of Helen’s cigarettes. God, it’s been so long. They must be black market, there’s no way Helen could afford them now. In the glow of the lights from town, she watches the seagulls circling the oval down the road, underlit with orange. Mim can hear the sea, faint, and the smell of it, unmistakable, even through the cigarette smoke. God, it’s good. To suck it in and hold it like that, to feel her brain buzz, the familiar almost-weight of it between her fingers.
It’s like the seaside town of her childhood never grew up, never got weighed down by adulthood – even now, in the off season, there are loud backpacker vans, travellers whooping through the night streets – as though this is a place where you might forget what it was you came to do.
10
In the morning, Mim and the kids take the path to the headland. It’s windy and there are new signs. Welcome to the lands of the traditional owners. She wonders how welcome they are, really. This would have been a good place. The sheltered curve of the bay, the rocks at the base of the headland thick with shellfish, the freshwater creek curving back inland. But what would she know? If she can feel this tug in her guts at being here, a place where she knows the smell of the air, the quality of the light while the sea mist is still sitting low, if she feels this after a childhood of summers, what might it feel like to have been here forever? The imprint of it in her DNA?
She calls the kids back from the edge of the cliff. There’s a fence there, but she’s wary. Always more so when Ben’s not there. Quick to pull them back. Scared they might fall. Or worse, that she might fail to catch them.
‘Let’s go down and check out that park.’
The kids run down the path ahead of her.
* * *
Essie loops her legs over the edge of the monkey bars and hangs upside down, her bandaged hand pressing her skirt against her legs at the front, her other hand at the back.
‘Here, I’ll help.’ Mim tucks the edge of her daughter’s skirt into her undies. ‘There, try now.’
Essie drops her arms and places her hands on the tan bark, tentative with her bandaged one. Her hair a drift of dark as she neatly shifts her weight and scissors her legs down to dismount. Sam is at the top of the playground, in a little cubbyhole. He pokes a stick through a hole in the shape of a star.
‘Pow! Got you, Mum!’
‘No guns, Sam.’
‘It’s not a gun! It’s a numchucka.’
‘Then it should make a different noise.’
‘Wooosh, wooosh!’ he cries as she walks to the picnic table on the crest between the park and the seawall. She opens the box and pulls out the new phone. More of the cash gone, but she needs to call her mum. She inserts the new SIM and the screen lights up in her hand. It’s the only number she knows from memory, thank god. She takes a deep breath as she hears it begin to ring. The click of an answer.
‘Mum?’
‘Mim? God. Where –’
A series of muffled sounds, her mother’s voice in the background now.
‘Mim, what the fuck?’
‘Steve?’
‘What have you done? Do you have any idea the fucking trouble you’ve caused here?’
‘Is Mum okay?’
‘The place has been crawling with the Department. What fucking game are you playing? They threatened to take the farm. The whole fucking farm.’
She imagines her brother’s face, red and spitting, can hear her mum in the background, her low voice trying to placate her son.
‘I’m just trying to look after my kids.’
His voice explodes. ‘What about the rest of us? Huh? How about my fucking kids, my whole fucking life? They’ve threatened to take Mum in. To an estate, Mim. Are you fucking hearing me?’
Mim is frozen. She hears her mother in the background, ‘Let me speak, let me speak,’ but Steve doesn’t hand over the phone.
‘Unless you’re calling to come back here and sort this fucking mess out, we are done with being dragged into your shit.’
‘Wait! Did they know where I was?’
But he ignores her. ‘Do not fucking call here again.’
The line cuts out.
Her breath is shallow. How long before the Department work it out? What if someone makes the connection to Eagles Nest? They’ll be trawling the network for Heidi’s car. Shit, shit, shit.
* * *
Helen is more than happy to give her Nick’s number. ‘Be lovely for you two to have a chance to catch up. Why don’t you head down the pub for lunch? Kids’ll be fine here with me.’
Mim wonders if Helen, too, is wedded to some other version of the past.
‘How’s it going?’ he answers. His voice. She barrels backwards through time, an image of her curled around the landline, wedged behind a door at the farm, ignoring Steve’s catcalls and blocking her ear so she could hear the boy her whole body is missing now that summer is gone.
‘Yeah, good. You around today?’
‘Yeah, what do you need?’
‘A hand with something.’
‘I can come round now.’
‘Meet me at the pub?’
‘Sounds better. When?’
‘In halfa?’
‘New one or old?’
‘The one on the foreshore.’
‘See you there.’
It’s too easy. She wonders what else she will get away with.
* * *
The big glass doors open on to a deck overlooking the sea. She suspects he wouldn’t drink here usually. It’s all tourists now. She tries to remember how it used to be, where the doors opened out on to the beer garden, the string of lights, but it’s changed too much. She’s dressed more like a local than a tourist. She hasn’t cared for the past few days but now, just a little, she does.
She can’t see him and she hesitates for a moment, trying to decide whether to grab a drink first or sit down.
And then he’s there, next to her.
‘Hi.’
Her fingers go to tuck her hair back and she stops them. Get a grip, she thinks.
‘Drink?’ she asks, head nodding towards the bar.
‘Thanks, schooner of ale.’
‘Right.’
‘I’ll get us a spot.’
She finds him at a high table in the corner of the deck, closest to the sea.
‘Thanks.’
It is his ease that unnerves her. She shifts the beer mat in her fingers, one side and then the other. The idea now seems preposterous.
‘All good at Mum’s place then?’
‘Good, yeah, great.’
‘She’d like having the kids. Georgie’s are great, but she doesn’t get to see them so much.’
Mim runs her finger through the little puddle left by the beer glass on the coaster. ‘You
never had any?’ Immediately she feels exposed by the question, wishes it back.
He doesn’t smile, takes a long drink. ‘You said you needed a hand with something?’
Mim slowly nods her head. She won’t try that again. ‘Can you sail a boat to Indonesia?’ She says it quick, looks at him, releases her breath.
He takes a sip of beer. ‘Sure.’
‘Is it hard?’
‘Depends.’
‘On what?’
‘The boat, the weather, experience. Indo’s a big place, thousands of islands –’
‘Yeah I get that.’ She stops, hasn’t meant to jump in.
‘But no, not really, it’s not hard.’
‘You done it?’
‘Yeah.’ He nods, half smiles. ‘Yeah, I have.’
‘How long does it take?’
‘From Darwin? Depends on the wind and where you’re headed, three to six days, maybe longer.’ He takes a long swig. ‘From here, well, you’ve got to get all the way round the coast, the cape, before you head up across the Timor Sea, a couple of weeks, give or take.’
She looks over to the park, thinks she needn’t have left the kids with Helen, could’ve brought them here, watched them from here. It is like an itch, being without them, she wants to get back.
‘You thinking of going sailing?’
‘Hah.’ She shifts in the chair. ‘Something like that.’
‘You done it before?’
‘Nup. Not really. Couple of times here when we were little.’
‘You got a boat in mind?’
She looks at him directly now, remembers the feeling that night at the seawall. I could ask anything.
‘Yes,’ she says.
His face breaks into a real smile now, and he shakes his head. ‘Easier ways to get to Indo, if you need to get there in a hurry.’
‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘but I’ve got no passport.’
He nods slowly. ‘I mean, technically, you need one if you do it by boat, too.’
‘Technically?’
‘Well, yeah. I mean, there’s a lot of stuff that comes in and goes out unofficially.’
‘People?’
‘Out, yes. Not in, anymore. They put a fucking stop to that. There are border drones, guards on the docks. It’s risky, sure, but not impossible.’
‘The kids.’ She looks back to the park. ‘They’ve never been on a boat.’
‘Kids are pretty adaptable.’
A waitress pauses at their table, brunette with two braids, glossy pink lips, low-cut black singlet. She asks them if they’ll be eating, holds out the menu. Mim shakes her head but Nick takes one, and the waitress smiles at him, a megawatt smile and looks back over her shoulder as she walks away.
Nick is looking at her. ‘You not going to eat?’
‘Nah, I should get back.’
He nods, scanning the menu, then without looking up, says, ‘So, I’m not sure exactly what you’re asking?’
‘Would you sail us?’
He looks up from the menu.
‘To Indo?’
She keeps her gaze steady.
He laughs, pushes his hands against the table, straightening his arms and stretching back as if to move away from her request.
‘You’re serious?’
She nods, but she feels far less serious than she did a moment ago.
He shakes his head. ‘Mate, if you’re looking for a fresh start, or, I don’t know, somewhere to get away, there’s better places than there.’
She shrugs, defensive now. ‘That’s where I need to go.’
He nods, looks out to sea. ‘You looking for something?’ he says, after a moment.
She could play it, she knows that, has felt the invisible crackle in the air between them that is memory and possibility both. But she knows this manoeuvre requires trust, and she can’t start it with a lie.
‘Someone,’ she says. ‘My husband’s there. He’s missing.’
He nods slowly, turning to face her. ‘Shit, eh? That’s why you got rid of your chips, the passports?’
She nods.
He drops his head. ‘I’d like to help, I really would, but I’ve kept off the radar so far, risky avoiding getting chipped, I’m not keen on getting a flag on me now.’
‘They don’t know where I am yet.’
‘You reckon?’ he says and she realises she hadn’t bargained on his saying no.
‘I can pay you, I’ve got cash –’
He holds up his hands. ‘Yeah, nah, I just… I can’t help you. I’m sorry.’
She can’t speak.
The girl with the braids is back with her smile. ‘You ready to order then?’
‘Nah, I’m good actually,’ he says.
‘Anything for you?’ the girl says, dropping the smile for Mim.
She shakes her head and the girl whisks the menu up, her bum swinging as she walks away. Nick watches for a moment then looks back at Mim.
‘Beer?’
She stands up, shaking her head, needs to leave now before she bursts into tears. Humiliation slow burns in her guts.
‘Should get back to the kids. Thanks, anyway.’
He puts a hand out. ‘I’m sorry, Mim, I just –’
She puts her hand up to cut him off. ‘All good,’ she says, and walks away.
* * *
Essie moves in the bunk bed above and the mattress springs creak.
‘Did you try Dad again?’
Mim strokes Sam’s head next to her. ‘Yeah, honey, no luck.’ She does not want to say that she has no way to contact Ben. That they are offline, untethered. She hears Essie roll and wriggle above.
Essie’s voice comes again – blunt now. ‘Are you splitting up?’
A breath of disbelief. ‘What?’
‘Are you getting a divorce?’
Mim looks at Sam, his eyes unsure, questioning. Has Essie already said this to him? Have they talked about this?
‘No!’ she says and rolls off the bed. She stands next to the bunks where she can see both of them. ‘No! Ess, is that what you think is happening?’
Essie won’t look at her, is staring at the ceiling. ‘That’s why he hasn’t come back from his trip. Why we’ve left. You’re having a big fight. This is what happened with Stacey’s mum and dad. You can’t just hide it from us.’
‘Essie – no.’ It is a relief, partly, that her daughter is so wrong. If this is the fear, if this is the worst, then maybe it won’t be so hard to tell the truth. ‘No, we are not splitting up. Dad’s just…’ she trails off. Their faces, both looking at her expectantly now. ‘He can’t come home yet.’
The sound of the doorbell chimes through the house.
‘Why?’ Essie persists.
Mim can hear the low murmur of voices and realises she is listening intently for Nick.
‘Why can’t he come home, Mum?’
She sighs in frustration. ‘I don’t know, Essie.’
Essie humphs and rolls away and Mim puts out her hand to rest near her daughter’s back. Not touching, but close enough that she can feel the warmth.
‘I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Okay?’
Essie doesn’t respond and Mim whispers goodnight as she pulls the door shut behind her.
Helen is in the hallway.
‘Visitors?’ Mim asks, smiling.
Helen frowns a little, then seems to shake the look. ‘No, yes, just the neighbours.’
‘Everything okay?’
Helen flaps her hands and urges Mim back down the hall to the kitchen as she speaks. ‘Yes, yes, nosy buggers, the lot of them. Apparently someone’s got their knickers in a knot about the unknown vehicle in the street.’
Mim turns back quickly.
‘Don’t worry, love, I let them know it was nothing to worry about.’
But nothing feels like nothing, anymore.
* * *
She spends too long in the pounding heat of the shower. At home, OMNI would have turned it off on her already. There
are benefits to being outdated.
People are asking questions. They have to leave, she knows it’s only a matter of time before the Department connect all the dots and find her here.
The water scours her, her breasts pinked by it. She lets it run over her face, her hair, turns so the pummel of it hits her shoulders. She wants to wash away the embarrassment of the gamble she took today, asking Nick. His face, the shake of his head.
Fuck him. She doesn’t need him. Fuck him and the Department and the whole fucking lot of them.
She turns the water off, and stands for a moment, dripping in the steam.
Time’s up in Eagles Nest. They will leave in the morning. Before anyone else starts asking questions. If Nick won’t help them, she’ll find someone else who will. And she will push down the regret that is blooming quietly within her, that she is leaving the town, and everything it holds, so soon.
* * *
It is late when the phone beeps, but it is as though she is tuned for it, scrambles her hand to pull it in, hold it close in the dark.
Let it be Ben.
But it is not.
Thought about it more.
When do you want to go?
Nick.
She sits up. Rubs her face to try and wake up, think.
Tomorrow?
She holds her breath until she sees the icon that tells her he is replying.
Right! Can it wait another day?
She half-smiles at the exclamation mark.
Not really.
The icon blinks for far longer than it takes him to reply. This makes her smile, too.
Taking your car? Cost a bit.
I’ll pay for everything.
She waits a moment before adding.
There’s more if you take us all the way.
Take a bit to get it all ready.
I’ve got 7k.
Another long wait.
She prompts.
Is that enough?
Should do it.
She scrolls back through the messages to check she hasn’t misunderstood.
Tomorrow, then? Early?
Holds her breath again while she waits.
The Mother Fault Page 11