by Kylie Ladd
‘How are your mum and dad doing?’ Hannah asked, jolting him out of his thoughts.
‘Not great,’ he said. ‘Mum goes around as if she’s in a trance. I don’t think she even knows if I’m home or not most of the time. Dad’s the opposite—he can’t sit still. He’s always off talking to the cops, or pushing flyers through letterboxes, or out here searching. He would have come with us today, but he had some theory he wanted to run past Terry.’ Dan paused and looked around. They’d ridden further this time and were in new territory. ‘It’s funny, really. I thought it would have been the other way around. Dad going to pieces, and Mum marshalling the troops. She always runs everything else.’
Hannah reined her horse back and waited until Dan had drawn alongside her. ‘What about you?’ she probed gently. ‘How are you holding up?’
Dan stared down at his hands. Rocky dropped his head and began to graze. ‘I try not to think about it too much. I mean, I think about it, of course I do—but about the next time I’m going out searching, or where we should look or whatever. I don’t think about Charlie. I can’t. If I think about her, about where she might be or what she’s going through, I just want to climb into bed and never get up again.’ He swallowed, risked a glance at Hannah. ‘Or else my mind shuts down and I can’t breathe properly. Does that make sense? It’s so pathetic.’
Hannah shook her head. ‘It’s not pathetic at all. You miss her. You’re worried about her. It would be pathetic if you could be calm about it.’
‘I guess,’ he mumbled, when what he really wanted to say was thank you, thank you, I’m so glad you’re here. Hannah helped him bear it; Hannah was a living, breathing lifeline to Charlie. To her, Charlie was a friend, not just the girl in the paper or on the flyers. Charlie stayed alive somehow because she still existed for Hannah, because Hannah kept on looking for her. How would he cope if she lost interest in the search, if she drifted back to her real life? It was something else he couldn’t bring himself to think about.
‘Hey!’ Hannah exclaimed. ‘Did you see that? There’s something moving over there.’
Dan followed the direction of her gaze, but all he saw were trees, shadows dancing beneath them. He looked away and as he did one of the shadows seeped into the open, unfurled itself upwards and transformed into a person. A man, he thought, though he couldn’t be sure. Hannah kicked her horse and it leapt forward.
‘Hello,’ she cried, ‘hello, hello.’
The figure turned towards her voice, then immediately melted back into the shadows. Hannah galloped off, and after a moment’s hesitation Dan did too. Cantered, anyway, forcing himself to sit deep and hang on so that he didn’t lose them both. By the time he caught up to her, Hannah was talking to a dirty-looking man in an equally grimy army coat.
‘Sorry,’ she was saying. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. We’re searching for a girl, a young girl, thirteen. She has blonde-ish hair.’ She fumbled in her jacket for one of the flyers.
‘Don’t see many folks out here,’ the man said. ‘That was why I ran. Not because I was scared or anything.’ He eyed Dan warily.
‘Her name is Charlie.’ Hannah unfolded the flyer and passed it down to him. It trembled slightly in his grasp.
Dan noticed the man’s fingers were stained with nicotine and his face was lined. He must have been in his fifties at least, maybe early sixties.
‘Nope,’ he said, only glancing at it for a second. ‘Never seen her. There’s no one out here, like I said.’
‘Why are you here, then?’ Hannah asked. ‘Do you live here?’
‘No,’ the man said. ‘Well, yes. Sort of. A bit further away. I was collecting firewood. It’s gonna start getting cold soon.’ He gestured to a rough bundle of branches at his feet.
‘It’s pretty remote.’
The man lifted his chin, glaring at Hannah. ‘That’s how I like it.’
Rocky tossed his head, impatient to be off again. ‘So you’ll keep an eye out?’ Dan asked. ‘She was out riding, like us, and she never came back, a month ago now, almost two. Her name’s Charlie.’
‘Yeah,’ the man said, staring at the picture.
‘There’s a number you can call,’ Dan pressed on. ‘There, at the bottom of the page, any time. It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night.’
The man sniffed. ‘Don’t have a phone.’
‘You’ll look, though, won’t you?’ Hannah interjected. ‘She might be lost, or hurt. She might need you to help her.’
‘Two months is a long time to be lost.’ The man tried to return the flyer to Hannah, but she pushed it back towards him.
‘Please watch out for her,’ Hannah begged. ‘Will you do that? For me?’
The man studied the flyer again, then finally folded it, fingernails rimmed black. ‘OK,’ he said.
They didn’t really talk about it until they had ridden away and were back on the fire track, headed for home.
‘Was it just me, or was he a bit creepy?’ Hannah asked.
‘It wasn’t just you.’ The man’s eyes weren’t right, Dan thought. They didn’t seem to focus properly, and then they looked right through you.
‘Do you think we should tell the police?’
‘Maybe … nah.’ Dan weighed it up. ‘I mean, we could, but what would we say? He seemed like some sort of hermit—we don’t know where he lives, and he said he didn’t have a phone. They probably couldn’t even find him to talk to him.’
‘Yeah, I guess,’ Hannah said. They rode on in silence, and then she added, ‘Did you notice how he smelled?’
‘How could you not?’ Dan laughed. ‘God. Clearly he doesn’t have a bathroom, either. I’m guessing he lives alone.’
Hannah laughed too, bringing her horse alongside his as they came to the gate at the entrance of the national park. ‘I’ll get it,’ she said, but instead of dismounting she leaned across and kissed him.
During the night Charlie’s period started. The slow, warm seep of blood woke her up, and for a moment she thought she was at home and sat up quickly so she could get to the bathroom before it stained the sheets. As soon as she did the cold air hit her, the ancient straw needled her skin, and she lay back down again trying not to cry. It wasn’t the first time she’d had her period, but it was the first time she’d had it here, since she’d been taken. The tears welled. What was she was going to do? At home her mother made sure that there was always a fresh supply of pads and panty liners in Charlie’s top drawer, next to her underwear; always took away any washing that needed doing without needing to be asked. The shopping and the laundry were otherwise her father’s job, but once a month her mother stepped in. It was the sisterhood, she’d told Charlie not long after she’d first come home from school with blood in her undies; women looking after women. One day, she’d remarked with a smile, Charlie would do it for her own daughter. Only there wouldn’t be a daughter, Charlie thought, fighting panic. No son either, no children at all, because she’d still be trapped here, slowly rotting away in a dilapidated stable. Now she was going to be filthy too, filthy and smelly, because she had no way to wash, no clothes to change into, no box of pads. She whimpered at the thought of it and curled on her side, squeezing her legs together to try to stop the inevitable. Somehow she must have fallen back asleep, but in the morning the crotch of her jodhpurs was stiff with blood.
An idea had occurred to her. During the night she had felt frightened, upset, but now she was simply angry. How dare he do to this to her? How dare he keep her locked up, like an animal, to be hauled out and petted when he felt like it? If he was going to leave her soiled in her own filth she was going to put it to some use. Charlie unbuttoned her jodhpurs and wriggled out of them, then took off her undies as well. The undies were the worst. Wrinkling her nose, she turned them inside out then began rubbing them against her forearm, leaving smears of red. She studied the effect, then did the same with her jodhpurs. These had dried a little, so she shook some water on to them from the bottle Col had left her and trie
d again. Much better, but still not quite gory enough. Taking a deep breath, she probed between her legs with her fingers and daubed the product on her arm as well. The result was just as she had hoped: to the untrained eye, it looked as if she had injured herself, and she suspected Col’s eye was untrained. If she acted hurt, he would have to try to help her—ring an ambulance or take her to hospital, and if she could talk to a doctor or even just get out of the stable she could surely escape. She pulled her clothes back on, swallowed some water and then, as loudly as she could, she began to scream. It didn’t take Col long to respond. He must have already been up, preparing her breakfast, because he was at the stable door scrabbling with the lock before her throat was even sore.
‘What is it?’ he panted, finally pushing the door open, ‘What happened?’
Charlie clamped a hand to her upper arm. ‘I’ve cut myself! It hurts. It’s bleeding really badly!’
‘Cut yourself?’ he asked, pausing at the entrance to the stable, Blue nosing at his heels. ‘How?’
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie wailed. ‘There must be an old nail or something in the straw. I just woke up and it was like this.’
Col’s expression wavered between repugnance and fear. ‘I don’t like blood,’ he murmured, almost to himself, and looked away. ‘I’ll go and get you a bandaid.’
‘No!’ Charlie called. ‘It’s worse than that. It’s really bad. I’ll need stitches at least, maybe a transfusion. I might bleed to death! Do you want me to show you?’ She took a step towards him, lifting her arm and thrusting it into his face. It was a gamble, she knew, but it paid off.
‘Don’t!’ he cried, turning ashen. ‘I’ll go and get a doctor.’
‘Hurry!’ Charlie said. ‘I feel faint.’ She slumped to the straw for good measure.
‘Just stay still,’ Col told her, ‘don’t move around. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ He started to leave, but as he did Blue ran to her, wagging his tail. Charlie tried to wriggle away from him, but it was too late. Catching the scent of the blood the dog turned his attention to her arm, his pink tongue licking greedily at her skin from wrist to elbow. Instinctively, Charlie lifted her hand to push him away—and found Col hovering over her, eyes blazing.
‘You’re not hurt!’ he roared, staring at her bare upper arm. ‘You were just trying to fool me.’
She began to protest, but a kick to her stomach knocked the wind out of her. She doubled up, grunting in pain. Blue paused for a minute, then resumed his slavering.
‘I thought you were a nice girl!’ the man said. ‘I thought you were my friend. Haven’t I been looking after you?’ Though she could barely see straight, Charlie realised he was crying. ‘I’ve tried so hard, and then you go and play a trick on me. You think I’m dumb, don’t you, like everyone else?’ He leaned over her, sniffling, and Charlie shrank back, afraid he was going to strike her again. Instead he snatched up her blanket and the torch he had given her and jammed them both under his arm. ‘If you’re going to be mean to me, I’m going to be mean to you,’ he said, shuffling to the back of the stall. He picked up her bucket and tipped out its contents, then whistled to Blue. ‘C’mon on, boy. We don’t need her.’
The dog hesitated, waiting for a sign from Charlie, then when none was forthcoming bounded out of the stable after its master. The upper and lower halves of the door banged shut. The padlock was snapped into place. Charlie lay on her side as the man’s footsteps faded away, clutching her belly and taking stock. Her blanket was gone. Her torch was gone. Her stomach hurt so much that she needed to be sick, but when she looked for the bucket she saw that he’d taken that too.
He didn’t go out to the stable for a bit because she’d made him cross. He could see the back of it from the house and sometimes when he woke up he started making her breakfast without even thinking but then he did think and he stopped and gave her breakfast to Blue who would eat anything. Blue ran out and tried to sniff at the stable sometimes but he called him back and to make him stay once he had tied him up to a tree even though Blue barked and he didn’t like him barking it hurt his head. He didn’t like noise much at all really. He wasn’t used to it, not since Tony left and took the TV with him, and now when there was too much noise it just made him confused and angry, like the noise was trying to upset him. And the girl made a lot of noise. He hadn’t expected that. At the start she was always crying and calling out and then that stopped and he thought she would behave but she didn’t, she tried to trick him and it made him sad. Why did she try to trick him? He’d gone and got her everything she asked for, the chips and the torch and the Maltesers. He hadn’t been able to find the Maltesers at first and Woolworths was getting busy so he just bought some other chocolate instead but half-way home he started feeling bad because she definitely asked for Maltesers so he went back again even though it was getting late and he had to find someone to tell him where they were and he hated talking to the Woolworths people, to anyone really, because often they didn’t understand him and they stood there going Sorry? Sorry? when it was clear they weren’t sorry at all. And after all that he’d given her the Maltesers and she hadn’t said thank you and then the next he knew she was pretending to be hurt and trying to fool him so he wasn’t going to talk to her for a bit and definitely no Maltesers. That was what you had to do with children. He would have been a good parent. He had a warm feeling when he thought that but then it went away again because he missed talking to her even though she had been mean to him and Blue wouldn’t stop barking.
It wasn’t much good though, without Charlie around. The days were long and lonely and boring, even though they were actually getting shorter because winter was coming. He tried to remember what he did every day before he got Charlie to live with him but it was all hazy, like when a fog came down, like trying to remember before his accident. After a few days he missed her so much he went and stood outside the stable. He was going to open the door and see what she was doing, maybe bring her outside, but he could hear her crying and he hated crying, it just hurt his head and got him all worked up, like his mum used to say, so he went away again.
Two mornings later he tried again. He was hungry when he woke up and it made him think that Charlie must be pretty hungry too by now and he felt bad about that so he put some cornflakes in a bowl, but then he had an idea. Maybe he could make her something else, something a bit more special, to show that he wasn’t that mean and then she would be thankful and like him again and be his friend. It was a good idea. It made him smile as he took the bacon out of the fridge and put it in the pan. Eggs would be good to go with the bacon but the chickens that he used to have when Tony was here had run off or got eaten by a fox or something, so there weren’t any eggs. No one stayed. His mother died and Tony left and the chickens disappeared. No wonder he was lonely. Blue was the only thing that had stuck around. And Charlie he thought, prodding at the bacon, and that made him smile too.
When it was ready he took it out to the stable. The bacon looked a bit lonely lying on the plate all by itself so he put some bread next to it and then a handful of cornflakes, just to fill up the space. That looks creative, Col, his mum would have said and she was right, he was very creative. He hoped Charlie noticed, but when he unlocked the door she was crying again, lying on her tummy with her shoulders going up and down and her face buried in her arms. Blue whimpered and backed away. Col would’ve too, but she heard the dog and rolled over.
‘I’ve got some breakfast for you,’ he said. ‘Are you hungry?’
Charlie nodded yes with her cheeks all wet as if her whole face was raining. He put the plate down next to her and she sort of grabbed the bacon up with her hands and shoved it in her mouth and then took a bit of bread and pushed that in too and next he knew she was coughing like mad and all the bread and the bacon were back on the plate and the straw and Blue was trying to eat it and she started crying again. He picked the plate up and she sobbed even more but it didn’t matter, he had to be firm, just like a parent. He would have bee
n a good dad. He imagined his mum was watching him and telling him what to do.
‘Stop crying. I’ll take it away unless you stop crying.’
She stared up at him as if she wanted to bite him but she took a big breath and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. He put the plate down again and called off Blue. ‘Go on,’ he prompted. ‘Slowly.’ In his mind his mum nodded and smiled. Charlie took a piece of bacon just one and put it in her mouth, chewing up and down and up and down before she swallowed. He lowered himself to the straw to sit next to her but phew-wee there was a bad smell and blood black on her pants like tar only tar didn’t smell like that and the whole stable smelled come to think of it and Blue was sniffing at something dirty in the corner. Col looked around for her bucket before he remembered that he’d taken it.
‘You stink,’ he said even though it wasn’t very polite and his mum would have frowned, but it was still the truth.
‘No kidding,’ Charlie said. She took some bread and broke it into little balls. When she bent over to eat it her shoulder blades poked up through her t-shirt as if they were trying to escape. ‘I need a shower. I was bleeding.’ She looked at him accusingly but he wasn’t falling for that again, not the blood trick, and besides the blood on her pants was old and dried and she didn’t look hurt. She could eat OK, she was eating everything even though some of the bacon was meant for him too. ‘And I need some water,’ she went on, between mouthfuls, ‘and to go to the toilet. I really need to go to the toilet.’