by J. C. Jones
‘Didn’t exist, miss? But you’re flesh and blood standing right here! You are a funny one, no doubt about it.’
‘Anything in your pockets?’ asked the desk sergeant.
Pip pulled out her wallet with its old travel tickets and the seventy dollars she’d won today.
The desk sergeant whistled. ‘That’s a lot of cash to be carrying around.’ He put it in a plastic bag. ‘You’ll get it back if it’s yours.’
‘It is,’ Pip said. ‘It’s for my friend Sully.’
‘Anything else?’
Pip’s hand closed over the key to Number 78 Elliott Street, right at the bottom of her pocket, plus the corner of serviette with Mr Blair’s number on it. One she needed; the other she could survive without. She handed over the serviette.
The cops led her through to a small room with a tiny window, empty except for a table and chairs.
‘Sit down, young Pip,’ said the older cop. ‘Now, would you like Constable Idris to get you a drink?’
‘Orange juice, please.’ Pip sat down and looked around. Everything looked grey and gloomy, which matched her mood.
When the younger police officer came back with her juice and a plate of biscuits Pip thanked him and drank thirstily.
‘Now,’ said the older cop. ‘I’m Senior Sergeant Cameron. You can call me Doug if you like.’
‘Okay, Doug.’
‘The desk sergeant is letting Inspector Carozza know that you’re here.’
Oh no!
‘We also need to contact your . . . someone close.’
‘Sully’s my family, but he’s in hospital and then he has to go to rehab,’ Pip told him.
She saw the police officers exchange glances and thought they didn’t understand. ‘Like in the Amy Winehouse song.’
Constable Idris nodded. It looked like he was trying not to laugh again. ‘We’ll ask the hospital to let your . . . Sully know,’ he said.
‘No!’ Pip cried. ‘No. I don’t want Sully to know. Please . . . I don’t want anyone to know!’
‘But I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you’re safe,’ said Doug.
‘He knows I’m all right,’ Pip told him. ‘Please! I don’t want him to know I’m going to jail for aiding and abetting.’
‘Aiding and . . .’ Doug shook his head. ‘Where do you get this?’
‘The newspapers and TV mostly,’ Pip said in a small voice. ‘I know that’s what it’s called when you help someone commit a crime.’
‘And did you? Aid and abet?’ Constable Idris asked.
‘Ah, Constable. I think we’ll leave any questions for later,’ Doug said. ‘Now, Pip. I’ll hold off informing Sully for the time being, but we need to find a responsible adult for you.’
‘Senior Constable Dunlop,’ Pip said. ‘Molly.’
‘No aunt or uncle? Grandparents?’
Pip shook her head. ‘Mr Blair. He’s my teacher at Spring Hill Public. I gave his number to the desk sergeant.’
The police officers exchanged a look. ‘Ah, from what I’ve heard, Mr Blair’s probably not quite the right person for this, and we need someone other than a police officer,’ said Doug.
‘I’ll contact Child Protection,’ Constable Idris said. ‘They’ll send a social worker over.’
Pip surprised them then by bursting into tears, but she shocked herself even more. She couldn’t remember crying since she’d been little.
‘Not the welfare!’ she sobbed. ‘They’ll make me go and live with a nutter. Pl . . . pl . . . please!’
She couldn’t stop, even though her throat stung and tears mixed with snot, dripping down her chin onto her hands. The police officers did everything they could to console her. Doug patted her back, while Constable Idris found a box of tissues. Finally when her throat was raw and her body empty of all tears, she hiccupped into silence.
‘Well,’ said Doug. ‘I didn’t think you were the crying type.’
Nor did I, Pip thought, hanging her head. But somehow the thought of being dragged off to live with some loony-tune after all she’d done to stay out of their reach had been more than she could take.
Sniffing, she reached for a tissue and loudly blew her nose. It made her feel better. Afterwards, she crumpled the tissue and shoved it in her pocket. ‘I want to talk to a lawyer,’ she said.
A Long, Cold Night
Two hours later, a social worker called Erica Spindler arrived. Despite being quite young, she had tired eyes and a beaten-down look. A Legal Aid lawyer arrived soon after, who told Pip that as it was now after nine o’clock at night, police questions could wait until tomorrow and that Mrs Spindler had found a place for her to stay.
‘I’m not going,’ Pip said. ‘I refuse.’
The lawyer, Mr Da Silva, was already halfway to the door. ‘Look, you need to go with Mrs Spindler. There is nowhere else.’
‘If you’re my lawyer, you have to do what I say, and I don’t want to go with Mrs Spindler.’
‘Don’t be difficult, Pip,’ Mrs Spindler said. ‘It’s just for the night.’
‘If the cops give me my money back, I can stay at a motel.’
‘Be reasonable. You’re ten years old.’
Mr Da Silva slipped out the door before Pip could stop him, and she was left with the social worker.
‘I’ll stay here tonight. They have cells with beds in police stations. I’ve seen them on TV.’
‘Pip! You are coming with me and that’s final. Now, hurry!’ She pulled Pip up and marched her to the door. ‘It’s late and Sandie is waiting.’
Silently, furiously, Pip shook her arm off and walked under her own steam out of the room, down the corridor and past the desk with her head held high.
‘Over here.’ Mrs Spindler hurried her outside and into the street where she opened the rear door of a small car. She made sure Pip was buckled in before she got into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the kerb.
Pip had no idea where they were going. Nothing looked familiar. At one stage she saw a sign for Randwick, but she didn’t see anything that looked like the racecourse. It was dark outside and it had started to drizzle and soon she couldn’t see anything at all.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘I told you. We’re going to Sandie’s. It’s the best we can do tonight.’
‘I mean, what suburb?’
Mrs Spindler sighed. ‘Mascot.’
That was near the airport, Pip knew. She thought it would be a long walk to find her way back to Elliott Street, but she was a good walker, she could do it.
When the car slowed and pulled off the road, Pip prepared to bolt. But instead of pulling up in a driveway, Mrs Spindler drove into an underground car park and pulled up in a space near the lift with Pip’s side to the wall. She was like a rat in a trap.
Mrs Spindler was clearly smarter than she looked, and kept a hand on Pip’s shoulder as she ushered her into the lift and pressed the third-floor button. They emerged in a dirty yellow corridor where a sickly light flashed on and off. Mrs Spindler stopped at Number 336 and rapped sharply.
The door was opened almost instantly, but not by a grown-up. Pip stared up into the coffee-coloured face and dark eyes of a girl of about fourteen.
‘Hello, Lara,’ Mrs Spindler said. ‘This is Pippa.’
‘It’s Pip. Hello.’
Lara glared at her and said nothing.
A bulky woman with greying frizzy hair came towards them, drying her hands on a towel. ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘Pip, is it? I’m Sandie. Hope you don’t mind sharing with Lara. There’s only two bedrooms, you see.’
Pip shrugged. She didn’t like the thought of sharing, but as she wasn’t going to be here very long, it didn’t much matter.
Lara, though, minded a lot if her face was anything to go by.
‘Now, do you have a bag? Any pyjamas?’
Pip shook her head.
‘I’ll phone you tomorrow,’ Mrs Spindler said to Sandie on her way out. ‘Be a good girl now, Pi
p.’
Sandie didn’t look like a nutter as she showed Pip into a small bedroom dominated by a set of bunk beds. Clothes were strewn about the floor as there seemed to be no cupboard or chest of drawers. Sandie bustled about, tut-tutting as she pushed the clothes into piles with her foot.
‘I told you to tidy up, Lara.’ Sandie picked something up from the floor.
‘Whatever,’ Lara said sulkily. ‘No! No, you can’t give her my clothes!’
‘These pyjamas are too small for you in any case,’ Sandie said, handing them to Pip. ‘Now hurry and get changed. It’s ten o’clock and you should both be in bed.’
She bustled out, leaving Pip with Lara.
‘Gimme those!’ Lara snatched the pyjamas from Pip’s hands. ‘You’re only here because she needs the money, but I was here first!’
‘Why are you here?’ Pip asked.
‘Got nowhere else, have I? Just like you.’
Pip was about to blurt that she did have somewhere much better than this, if only she could get back there, but she stopped herself just in time.
‘Have you always lived here?’ she asked instead.
‘Since I was six.’
‘That’s a long time.’ Feeling sorry for Lara, Pip studied the beds. If she stayed tonight, she would have the chance to tell Lara that sometimes it was okay for kids to not do what grown-ups wanted them to do if it felt wrong. Sleeping here would also mean she didn’t have to try to find her way home in the middle of the night. ‘Which is yours?’ she asked.
‘Both!’
‘Which one can I use for tonight?’
‘Neither. Why don’t you rack off?’
‘Okay.’ Pip felt her throat get tight and achy, the way it did when Spiro whispered stuff about her to the other kids in her class. But if Lara didn’t want her here, Pip was happier to leave sooner rather than later, so she walked out of the bedroom and into the corridor. At the end, she could see the flickering light from a TV and hear Sandie talking on the phone.
‘Welfare just dropped off that kid from the news. You know the one, had the cops chasing their tails.’
Pip crept closer and peered around the door until she could see Sandie wedged into an armchair, eyes on the silent TV.
‘It’s only for a day or two, worse luck,’ Sandie continued. ‘Could do with the cash.’
Pip could hear a muffled reply coming from whoever Sandie was speaking to.
Lara was right, then. Sandie’s friendliness was only a front. It made Pip feel very angry – and very alone, but she was used to that by now.
With the last of her courage, she turned and walked out of the flat, into the lift and onto the dark street.
Tail of Woe
Pip had walked all the way up the road and around the corner before she had to stop because her heart was beating so fast.
So Ginger was right. Some of the people who were supposed to look after kids shouldn’t be allowed to. But not all of them, Pip thought. There were good people looking after kids too, like Sully. He hadn’t had to take her in or feed her or change her or play with her or do any of the things grown-ups do for little kids, but he had. And she hadn’t been the only one. He’d told her once when he’d been a bit drunk and sad that, before his Em died, they’d looked after a few kids – teenagers like Pip’s mum who’d had nowhere else to go – because his Em had said it was the right thing to do.
Wearily, Pip looked around. The area seemed to be a mix of older apartment blocks and factories. In the distance she could hear the hum of traffic. Concentrating hard, she tried to retrace Mrs Spindler’s route but nothing stood out in the dark.
Even though it was the middle of November, it was chilly tonight and Pip had no jacket as, when she’d left this morning, she had expected to be back inside the house by dark. To keep warm, she needed to keep moving.
Each corner seemed to reveal a street much the same as the one she’d just walked. Finally, though, she could see traffic lights ahead. Trudging ever more slowly, she made her way to them, only to find that when she got there she had no more idea about which way to turn than before.
Shivering, she hesitated at the lights, looking one way and the other. Traffic was sparse at this time of night, but a car was approaching. Pip inched a little closer to the kerb, which she knew she shouldn’t. Not all drivers were friendly and some were worse than unfriendly. She shivered again, thinking of the man who had lied about knowing her mum just to get her into his car. But she was so tired and confused . . .
Headlights approached, a battered car slowed. Seven or eight teenagers were crammed into it, several of them hanging half out of the windows. One held a can of something. They were yelling words she couldn’t understand. Pip stumbled back from the kerb just in time as the left front tyre mounted the path right where she’d been standing a moment before. The engine revved, the tyre bumped back on the road and the car hurtled off into the night.
Heart pounding inside her chest, Pip lurched into the dark of a patch of scrub half screened from the road by a row of spindly trees. Too tired to go on, she sat down right there, drawing her knees up to her chest.
She heard a whimper and told herself to shut up. It wasn’t going to do her any good to crack up now. Already today she’d had one meltdown; having another would just make her a wimp. At least she was out of Sandie’s horrible flat. Anything was better than that, even being cold and hungry. She was alive, and she was smart, and she had a place to stay if she just knew how to get there. When it wasn’t quite so dark, she would work out which road led to Spring Hill.
The whimper came again. Pip frowned, lifting her head from her knees and staring into the gloom. That sound had definitely not been her.
‘Hello?’ she called into the night. She waited, but only the wind answered, sighing through the branches of the trees like a ghost. Maybe Indigo/ Bruce would appear out of the darkness and guide her home, she thought, settling her head back on her knees. She needed some magic right about now.
Her eyes closed as she began to nod off. They flared wide as the whimper came again. Something was out there, something more than the wind.
‘Hello?’ she said again, then more bravely, ‘Come out, come out, whoever you are!’
The whimper sounded a little louder.
‘I’m not afraid of you!’ Pip cried, even though she was a bit.
Leaves crackled, and she heard a noise to her left that sounded like panting. Pip hoped it wasn’t a rat, even though Sully said they were always more scared of humans than humans were of them.
There! Her eyes picked up something moving in the gloom. It wasn’t scuttling, though. More like dragging. The whimper turned to a yelp, like a dog would make.
Unsteadily, Pip got to her feet. She ached from the hard ground, but she moved towards the pathetic sound, and suddenly there it was, almost invisible against the dark earth, moving awkwardly.
The dog saw her at the same moment she saw it, and it stopped in its tracks. Pip sank to her knees, reaching out a hand as she did so, but the dog flinched back out of reach.
‘Don’t be shy,’ she said. ‘It’s okay.’
The dog whimpered again and dropped its head, worrying at something she couldn’t make out. When Pip shuffled closer, the dog whipped its head back up and gave a soft growl.
‘It’s okay,’ Pip said again, waiting and watching.
She could now see it was a dark colour and on the small side, but too big for a puppy. It resumed its worrying and as Pip’s eyes adjusted, she could see that there was something around its hind legs. Slowly, she edged nearer. The dog whipped its head around again, but this time didn’t growl. Taking her time, Pip reached out a hand and let it sniff her, feeling the puff of the dog’s warm breath on her cold skin.
Pip could smell the dog, too, and it was seriously smelly. She wrinkled her nose, then gently laid her hand on the animal’s head. It stilled under her hand. She stroked its head, feeling fur that was thick and matted. A moment later, the dog’s tongu
e emerged and it took a quick swipe at her hand.
‘There,’ she said. ‘That didn’t hurt.’ She shifted next to it on her knees, moving her hand to its paws. Now, she could see that it had managed to get a rope looped around its back legs. ‘Poor dog. Let’s get this off and you’ll feel better.’
Pip’s cold fingers fumbled a little as she explored the rough rope. The dog flinched but didn’t snap at her, and she kept it calm with silly, soft words until she had the shape of the knot. It was tight and it took long minutes of concentration before she finally got one end loose. Once she’d done that, even though she was all thumbs, it only took a few more minutes to get the rope fully off.
‘Silly mutt,’ she said, stroking her hand along its legs. ‘Now how does that feel?’
It seemed to take the dog a few seconds to realise that it was free, but when it did it got up and did a little doggie dance of delight, shaking itself with enthusiasm. Then it proceeded to almost lick off the top layer of Pip’s face. She wasn’t sure if it was thanking her or simply showing pleasure in its freedom.
Despite her tiredness, she laughed, rubbing it all over until it moaned happily. Her hand glanced off what felt like more rope, and when she looked down, she saw the dog had bits of rope around its front legs too. Pip frowned as she touched the frayed ends. The dog must have chewed through it to free its front legs. It licked her hand.
‘What happened to you, dog?’ she said. She didn’t see how it could have accidentally got both its back and front legs tied in knots – with separate ropes. Had someone tied it up deliberately and abandoned it to suffer? It was a horrible thought, and she gave the little dog a hug – but not too close, because it really did smell bad.
Even with the warmth of the dog along her back, the cold night, rough ground and sounds from the nearby highway made it impossible for Pip to get much rest. She drifted off a few times only for a screech of tyres or a sharp stone in her back to jolt her awake.
Before sunrise began to streak the sky with gold, she was up and ready to leave. The dog, which she could now see was a grubby grey colour, was not. On his back, he snored away, his eyelids flicking and legs jerking as he chased dream rabbits and birds. Pip almost smiled as she watched him. He looked ridiculous. Probably much like she looked. She was used to being scruffy, but now she felt dirty and itchy. The shiny white shower at Elliott Street called to her.