More Than Us

by Dawn Barker

  * * *

  Tilly was sitting behind the reception desk with Deb, the school counsellor, and the head teacher of the high school surrounding her. They all stood when I ran in the front door. Tilly began crying and ran out to hug me. I tried to stop myself from sobbing as I held her to me and smoothed down her long ponytail.

  ‘What’s going on, Mum?’ she cried.

  ‘Oh sweetie, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding and Dad thought that he was meant to pick up Cameron.’

  ‘Well, why aren’t they at home then?’

  ‘They probably are! I haven’t even been home yet. You’re right, darling. It was just… unexpected.’ They weren’t at home. I’d called the home phone too. ‘Have you got everything?’

  ‘Can we do anything?’ the head teacher asked. ‘Can we call the police?’

  I stared at her, then glanced at Tilly’s face. ‘No, no, there’s no need. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. But if he comes here, can you… let me know?’

  She nodded. They understood without speaking that something was terribly wrong.

  Thirty

  Emily

  I slowed the car as I looked for the turn off. I had never visited Paul while he was here of course: we had an agreement. I’d never been exactly sure where it was, but he’d later told me that it was off the highway just past Thirroul, and that was enough for me to go on today. It would have been easy to miss the small wooden sign next to a dirt road off the highway; the bush around it was overgrown but I saw the words ‘Treetops Retreat’. I braked heavily, thankful that there was no one behind me, then turned the car onto the track, forcing myself to slow down as the stones flicked up from the ground onto the silver metal work of the car. I wanted to floor the accelerator as we rumbled up the dirt road, my head shaking around on my neck, but I didn’t want to alarm Tilly any more.

  ‘Good job we have a four-wheel drive, isn’t it, Tilly?’ I tried to speak calmly.

  She smiled, for a fleeting moment, then went back to chewing her lip.

  Once I’d understood that Paul wasn’t going to answer my calls, and really had gone, I was sure that this would be where he’d take Cameron. We had driven home from school to find an empty house, then straight here. On the way, everything I knew about Phoenix swirled round in my mind. Their extreme views, their secrecy, the way they were taking money from Paul every month for his ‘treatment’… it was no more than a cult. These people weren’t doctors, or psychologists, and probably not even qualified counsellors. They’d brainwashed Paul and were taking money from him – from us – to fund their mansions on the harbour – and now they were going to try to do the same to my son.

  Treetops Retreat. It almost made me laugh. They must have put a lot of thought into the name, all sitting around a table scribbling names on a whiteboard, trying to make it sound like somewhere beautiful, all healthy fresh air and hikes through the bush and hearty meals, somewhere to rest and recover. What sort of treatment facility takes tens of thousands of dollars from a husband and father, and doesn’t let his wife or children visit or even talk on the phone? Well, they would let me see my son.

  I swallowed as I turned the corner and saw an old, white farmstead flash between the thickets of gum trees and woolly bushes. I could smell the sickly-sweet wattle flowers. I tried not to think about what it meant that there weren’t any guards; the whole time Paul was here, he could have walked out and come home to us at any time. But, that also meant that Cameron could walk out too. Cameron could only have been here for a couple of hours maximum, if Paul had come straight here from the hospital, and he would have no idea what was going on. He’d had a head injury. He was just a kid. Or, maybe the building itself was locked, or maybe they’d drugged him. I bit my lip. I was being ridiculous. We were here now. I’d talk to Paul and take Cameron home. Nowhere would ever be as good for Cameron as being with me.

  There were only three cars and a Ute in the area in front of the building. I frowned; Paul’s car wasn’t here. I gripped the steering wheel to stop my hands from shaking, turned into a flat area near the Ute, then took a deep breath and turned off the engine.

  I unclipped my seatbelt and opened the door. ‘You stay here,’ I said to Tilly.

  ‘No,’ she said, already opening her door. ‘I’m not staying here by myself.’

  ‘Darling—’ I paused. Maybe she was safer with me. ‘Alright, but stay next to me.’

  Outside, a soft breeze rustled the trees around me. It was cool in the shade, away from the wide flat road with the sun bouncing off the red dirt. Birds called in a high-pitched chattering. I breathed in deeply, then out through pursed lips.

  ‘Mum? Where are we?’

  I jumped. ‘Sorry, sorry, Tilly. I think Cameron’s here. It’s just like a hospital, a clinic. Let’s go.’

  I walked up to the front door. It was solid, thick wood. Next to it was an intercom, and a gold plaque simply saying, ‘Treetops Retreat’. I tried the door handle. It was locked.

  I stepped back and looked at the windows, wondering if they were locked too. I shook my head: who was I kidding? This wasn’t some action movie where I could slip in unseen, unchain him then take him far away from here in a high-speed car chase. This was a clinic. In Australia. It must be registered. Yes, it was run by people who had strange ideas, but they were people I knew and had met and who worked with my husband, and who had been guests in my home.

  I pressed the intercom button, hearing a buzzing inside. I waited, heart thumping. I heard footsteps and my stomach churned. I took Tilly’s trembling hand.

  A man opened the door and as he did, I pulled my shoulders back and tried to make myself look tall. I needed to look like I was in control, not allow him to smell my desperation.

  I smiled at the man. ‘Good morning. I’m here to see my son, Cameron.’

  The man frowned for a split second, then stepped out onto the doorstep and closed the door behind him. I heard the latch close. I saw the keys on a lanyard around his neck.

  I stepped back a little, then tucked my hair behind my ears.

  ‘I’m sorry. I think you’re mistaken,’ he said.

  ‘I’m his mother.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I think you’ve made a mistake.’

  ‘Is Paul here? Paul Napier. You know him. He’s been here; he was a patient. Now, he’s part of your… group. Of Phoenix I mean.’

  Tilly squeezed my hand. She didn’t know her father had been here. I shouldn’t have brought her. I should have made her stay in the car. I should have left her at school.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Napier, but I can’t help you. You’ll need to talk to your husband.’

  I put my professional voice on to hide my intimidation. ‘As I am sure you know, I have been unable to contact Paul.’ I blinked a few times to compose myself, amazed that I was still smiling, though my cheeks were starting to ache with the effort. ‘Could you just tell him I’m here? He won’t mind.’

  ‘I can’t release any information about our clients. You’ll have to talk to your husband and son yourself.’

  ‘You’re not listening to me.’ I wasn’t smiling now. ‘My son is in here. He’s a minor. I’m not asking you to break any confidentiality, because I know he’s in there, because my husband, is a member of your… your group. I just need to see that he’s okay.’

  This man, face set, stepped forwards towards me again. I didn’t move this time. He was taller than me, though I held myself as high as I could despite my muscles trembling. I stepped to the side and moved towards the door, even though I knew it was locked. What was I doing?

  ‘Mrs Napier…’ He blocked me with his arm.

  ‘Mum, don’t.’ I could hear Tilly’s tears in her voice as she grabbed my arm. I let her pull me back, then ran towards the window further along the wall of the building. There was a white venetian blind pulled down, but I cupped my hands around my eyes and tried to see through.

  ‘Cameron,’ I said loudly.

&n
bsp; ‘Mum, let’s go,’ Tilly said, her voice high pitched. ‘Please, Mum.’

  ‘Cameron! It’s Mum!’ I shouted, and before I knew it I was banging on the window with my fist. The man had taken his phone out of his pocket and I began running around the building, shouting out my son’s name, sure that he could hear me and would raise one of the blinds and I had a vision like a movie where we would press palms through the glass, crying, and, somehow, I’d get him out of here. I shouted and shouted, and realised that I was crying too and I staggered as I slid on a gumnut around the back of the house. And then the man was in front of me again, with another man, and Tilly was running up behind me and pulling at my arms and I could no longer hold myself up high because my face was streaked with tears and my voice was cracking and my ankle hurt where I twisted it. They marched towards me, telling me I was on private property and they were going to call the police if I didn’t leave, and then a woman appeared and told them to wait, and she put her arm around my shoulders and led me back to my car, with my other hand clutching Tilly’s. Tilly was sobbing now.

  I opened the car door and sat on the driver’s seat, my legs on the ground, and tried to compose myself. Tilly was staring at me, her eyes wide and her face pale.

  ‘Mrs Napier,’ the woman said, quietly, glancing back at the man. ‘Cameron’s okay.’

  ‘So, he is in there?’ I tried to stand up again, but she put a hand on my shoulder and seated me back down again. ‘Are you a mother?’ I hissed. ‘Do you have kids? Have you any idea what this is like for me?’

  ‘Cameron is safe. I promise you. That’s all I can say. But you need to go.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ I pleaded. ‘I need to see him. He was in hospital a few hours ago. He’s ill, I just need to see for myself, and let him know that I’m here.’

  ‘He’s not here.’

  ‘He is. He must be.’ He must be, because if he isn’t then where else is he? Was this some horrible misunderstanding and he was just at the café with Paul or down the shops? No, no, because then Paul would answer his phone.

  I stared at her, then looked back up to the building where the two men stood sentry in front of it, arms crossed. I looked back at the woman. She had curly auburn hair. Freckles on her nose. She looked like some part of her must be kind.

  ‘He’s not here.’

  I swung my legs back into the car. Tilly was sitting in the passenger seat, her face covered with her hands. I took a deep breath and looked at this woman’s hazel eyes, hoping that woman to woman, she’d help me. ‘He only likes cold water. From the fridge, not the tap.’

  She nodded a little then stood up and walked back towards the men at the door. They stood there in a line, the men’s arms folded, the woman’s arms holding her cardigan closed around her body. I closed the car door then leaned over and pulled Tilly towards me.

  ‘What’s going on, Mum?’ she cried.

  ‘I don’t know, darling. Have you got your phone?’

  ‘Yes.’ She leaned down into her school bag, beneath her feet and began rummaging around. If Paul wouldn’t answer me, surely he would answer his daughter’s call?

  ‘Can you call your dad’s number? Then give me the phone.’

  She nodded, pressed a few buttons then handed me the phone. Straight to voicemail.

  ‘Goddammit!’ I shouted. ‘Find Cameron’s number,’ I said, pushing it back towards her. ‘Sorry, darling, I don’t mean to get upset.’

  She rang Cameron’s, held it to her ear then shook her head.

  I held my hand out and I took it from her and heard the end of his voicemail message.

  ‘Cameron, darling,’ I said, trying to stop my voice from shaking. ‘It’s Mum. And Tilly. Call us any time. Any time at all. We’re coming to get you.’

  I handed the phone back to Tilly, then started the engine. ‘Sorry, sweetie. I don’t mean to worry you. I’m sure there’s an explanation for this.’

  She nodded but was looking away from me. I reversed the car, slowly, then started to drive back down the dirt path. We were going to the police.

  Thirty-One

  Paul

  As I drove along the highway, I glanced at my phone even though it was switched off. Emily would be frantic. I pushed the thought of her away. Cameron was more important right now. I would call her soon. I glanced at Cameron; clenching my teeth at the squeaking of the leather seat as he rocked back and forth.

  ‘Cameron, mate,’ I said, in a light voice. ‘Can you stop doing that?’

  He said nothing, shook his head then stopped moving.

  ‘That’s better,’ I said. The radio announcers chatted inanely to callers about things they’d done by text message that they should have done in person. Resigned, fired people, broken up with partners. Maybe I should send a text message at least. Maybe I should just call her. No, not yet. Not until we were on our way; I wasn’t sure she couldn’t talk me out of this and there were still hours to go before the flight. ‘Cameron, do you want to choose some music? This is crap.’

  He reached for my phone.

  ‘No.’ I snatched it from him. ‘Not from my phone.’

  ‘How then, when I’m not allowed to use my phone either?’

  ‘I’ve told you mate, you’re too young to have that thing near your beautiful brain.’

  ‘You do.’

  ‘I’m fully grown, mate. My brain is ruined as it is.’ I laughed loudly, flatly. He didn’t. ‘Just try to find something on the radio. I know that’s a foreign concept to kids like you. When I was a kid, we had to turn a little dial through all the crackling sound to try and find a song. Jeez, I remember when my dad first got a tape player in the car.’

  Cameron was biting at his fingers now, turning his thumb sideways and gnawing at it, looking out of the window. ‘Cam, your hands.’

  He sighed, shifted around in the car seat then began pressing the screen on the car through all the radio stations. I couldn’t wait to get away from all of this. I thought about those Sunday family car trips when I was a kid. The Sunday run, my dad had called it. We used to protest but we’d load up into the family car, books in hand for the journey, and drive through the countryside. We’d sometimes go to a hill, walk up to the top to a cairn and huddle against the rocks drinking tomato soup from a thermos. We listened to a tape in the car on the way home. Just one singer or group, none of this chopping and changing from song to song. We’d let the tape play the way it was designed. It’d always start with a catchy song, then slow down a little until we’d settled in and then, as we’d speed over the country hills giggling as our stomachs lurched when we descended, the river rushing along the side of us and rabbits darting across the road, the songs would speed up.

  Cameron switched again and again to new radio stations after hearing only moments of a song. Everything that Phoenix taught was true. How could we expect him to learn, to succeed, when a thousand times an hour his attention was shifting from this to that, discarding things he doesn’t like on a whim, swiping here and there and checking his phone to see who has updated Facebook or Instagram or Snapchat in the last few minutes in case he misses out. How did he have any chance?

  ‘Just pick something, Cam,’ I said, hearing the strain in my voice. ‘Just leave one thing on and give it a chance. We’re almost there.’

  He pressed the screen again, then sat heavily back in the seat. He began drumming his hands on his thighs. I tried to focus on the song. I swallowed. I would call Emily, but not yet.

  * * *

  ‘Damian.’ I reached my hand out to shake his and he pulled me into a hug. I let myself relax a bit. It seemed easier when I wasn’t battling alone with my own doubts.

  ‘Paul. And young Cameron!’ he said warmly, holding his hand out to Cameron.

  Cameron paused for a moment then shook his hand. ‘Hi.’

  ‘How are you feeling? I heard you had a nasty knock to the head.’

  ‘I’m okay now, thanks,’ Cameron said, glancing at me. I nodded and put my hand on h
is back and guided him forwards, into the hallway.

  ‘He’s going to have a bit of a black eye for a few more days I think.’ I smiled, closing the door behind me.

  ‘Just like your old man in his day, eh?’ Damian said, laughing. ‘Come through. You hungry? Thirsty?’ he said to Cameron.

  Cameron shook his head. ‘No thank you.’

  ‘I’ll get you some water. We’ll have lunch soon. You need to eat well today.’

  We followed Damian through as he chatted about the house. ‘We used to come up here all the time when the kids were young, every long weekend and school holidays. But now that it’s the two of us, we don’t use it as much even though it’s only an hour away from the city, really. I really should rent it out, but I don’t like the idea of strangers using it.’

  He turned on the tap and poured two glasses of water and handed one to each of us. I saw Cameron look at it, then slowly bring it to his mouth and pretend to sip it. I shook my head, feeling my tension rise. How had we allowed him to get like this?

  Cameron and I sat on a saggy black leather couch in the living area adjacent to the kitchen; Damian settled in a matching armchair. There was a wooden coffee table in the middle of the room with some old, hardback books piled on it. No magazines. No TV. Damian drove the conversation, asking Cameron questions about school, and I chatted about the drive up, the weather, anything to pass the time.

  ‘Dad? Can I call Mum?’ Cameron said while Damian had gone to use the bathroom.

  ‘I’ll call her soon,’ I said brightly.

  ‘I want to talk to her.’

  Damian’s voice boomed into the room. ‘No mobile reception here, Cameron,’ he laughed as he came back through. ‘That’s the way I like it. Now, young man, I need to have a private talk with your dad. I’ve got some old sports gear in the shed out there, would you like to go have a look, see if you can find a ball to kick around? I’d love to see it get some use.’