you have a sarong or something we could borrow?’
His eyes flicked to the car. ‘You don’t have clothes with you?’
She shook her head.
He smiled, that wide, ready smile. ‘Sure. I’ve got something. Come in.’
Anna took Charlie’s hand and they followed Pat over the lush lawn to the house. ‘Sabine . . .’ he said as they reached the steps to the verandah. ‘This is Anna and Charlie.’
‘Don’t mind me, just hanging out the washing.’ Sabine’s voice carried the warmth and authority of the mistress of the house and she had an accent. German or Dutch, Anna thought.
Last time Anna was here, Pat had told her he’d decided to be single, that he’d finally realised he was happiest on his own. He’d had a few live-in girlfriends since Anna, and she’d met one of them, Lulu, when Pat and Lulu came to Sydney for a friend’s wedding. After a few wines, Lulu had confided in Anna that she was planning to leave Pat, and go to live in Bali.
‘Anna’s an old friend.’ Pat climbed the steps and rubbed Sabine’s bare shoulder. ‘She stayed here almost twenty years ago.’
Anna waited for him to say who Sabine was but he bent to retrieve a peg from the floor and clipped it on the line.
‘Everything’s grown so much,’ Anna said. ‘The trees, I mean. You used to be able to see down the valley and the big white farmhouse there and the cows coming in to be milked and from up the top you could see to the ocean, I guess you can’t do that now . . .’ Her mouth dried up. She was rambling.
‘Oh?’ Sabine reached down to the basket and shook out a damp tea towel. ‘I made a pot of tea if you want a cuppa.’
Anna smiled. ‘I’d kill for a cuppa.’ She squeezed Charlie’s hand, which was damp and a bit limp.
Sabine offered a flicker of a smile and pegged up the tea towel.
Pat opened the door and gestured for Anna and Charlie to enter. The kitchen was as Anna remembered it: a big old woodstove cooker against the far wall and a round table under the window. Pat disappeared into his room and came out with a faded blue sarong. Anna knelt and wrapped it around Charlie’s waist. The girl touched the knot then stepped away and wandered around the room, running the fingers of her good hand over the open shelves and the low couch by the wood stove, the fringed end of the sarong trailing on the floor.
Anna dropped onto a chair at the table. She was fuzzy with exhaustion and relief, and just wanted to lay her head down on the table and close her eyes for few moments, but Pat pulled up a chair and poured her a cup of tea from the green teapot. Sabine had disappeared from the verandah and the clothes on the line moved in the breeze. Pat sloshed milk into her cup then slid it across to her. Cream formed fatty globules on the surface of the tea; she watched them float across the cup, and wondered when he’d ask why she’d turned up out of the blue and who Charlie was.
Pat said, ‘Would you like something to drink, Charlie?’
Charlie stood by the stack of firewood, watching Pat with that narrow-eyed, unblinking gaze. She shook her head and slid down to sit on the floor by the stove, her outstretched legs splayed, her eyes still fixed on Pat.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked the girl.
Charlie nodded and Anna’s gut tightened. Why hadn’t she thought to offer Charlie a drink or food? She stood, her chair scraping on the floor, and poured Charlie a glass of water from the tap. The girl drank thirstily.
Pat stood up. ‘Anna? Hungry?’
‘Oh. I should be but I’m not.’ She just needed to sleep.
She sat on the floor beside Charlie, the timber boards cool under her. ‘How are you going?’ she asked quietly.
Charlie glanced at her, then went back to watching Pat. Perhaps she was afraid of him.
Anna whispered, ‘We’re safe here. That’s why we’re here. To keep you safe. I’ll look after you. I won’t leave you alone.’
Charlie’s face was still. The tips of her fingers were white where she
His eyes flicked to the car. ‘You don’t have clothes with you?’
She shook her head.
He smiled, that wide, ready smile. ‘Sure. I’ve got something. Come in.’
Anna took Charlie’s hand and they followed Pat over the lush lawn to the house. ‘Sabine . . .’ he said as they reached the steps to the verandah. ‘This is Anna and Charlie.’
‘Don’t mind me, just hanging out the washing.’ Sabine’s voice carried the warmth and authority of the mistress of the house and she had an accent. German or Dutch, Anna thought.
Last time Anna was here, Pat had told her he’d decided to be single, that he’d finally realised he was happiest on his own. He’d had a few live-in girlfriends since Anna, and she’d met one of them, Lulu, when Pat and Lulu came to Sydney for a friend’s wedding. After a few wines, Lulu had confided in Anna that she was planning to leave Pat, and go to live in Bali.
‘Anna’s an old friend.’ Pat climbed the steps and rubbed Sabine’s bare shoulder. ‘She stayed here almost twenty years ago.’
Anna waited for him to say who Sabine was but he bent to retrieve a peg from the floor and clipped it on the line.
‘Everything’s grown so much,’ Anna said. ‘The trees, I mean. You used to be able to see down the valley and the big white farmhouse there and the cows coming in to be milked and from up the top you could see to the ocean, I guess you can’t do that now . . .’ Her mouth dried up. She was rambling.
‘Oh?’ Sabine reached down to the basket and shook out a damp tea towel. ‘I made a pot of tea if you want a cuppa.’
Anna smiled. ‘I’d kill for a cuppa.’ She squeezed Charlie’s hand, which was damp and a bit limp.
Sabine offered a flicker of a smile and pegged up the tea towel.
Pat opened the door and gestured for Anna and Charlie to enter. The kitchen was as Anna remembered it: a big old woodstove cooker against the far wall and a round table under the window. Pat disappeared into his room and came out with a faded blue sarong. Anna knelt and wrapped it around Charlie’s waist. The girl touched the knot then stepped away and wandered around the room, running the fingers of her good hand over the open shelves and the low couch by the wood stove, the fringed end of the sarong trailing on the floor.
Anna dropped onto a chair at the table. She was fuzzy with exhaustion and relief, and just wanted to lay her head down on the table and close her eyes for few moments, but Pat pulled up a chair and poured her a cup of tea from the green teapot. Sabine had disappeared from the verandah and the clothes on the line moved in the breeze. Pat sloshed milk into her cup then slid it across to her. Cream formed fatty globules on the surface of the tea; she watched them float across the cup, and wondered when he’d ask why she’d turned up out of the blue and who Charlie was.
Pat said, ‘Would you like something to drink, Charlie?’
Charlie stood by the stack of firewood, watching Pat with that narrow-eyed, unblinking gaze. She shook her head and slid down to sit on the floor by the stove, her outstretched legs splayed, her eyes still fixed on Pat.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked the girl.
Charlie nodded and Anna’s gut tightened. Why hadn’t she thought to offer Charlie a drink or food? She stood, her chair scraping on the floor, and poured Charlie a glass of water from the tap. The girl drank thirstily.
Pat stood up. ‘Anna? Hungry?’
‘Oh. I should be but I’m not.’ She just needed to sleep.
She sat on the floor beside Charlie, the timber boards cool under her. ‘How are you going?’ she asked quietly.
Charlie glanced at her, then went back to watching Pat. Perhaps she was afraid of him.
Anna whispered, ‘We’re safe here. That’s why we’re here. To keep you safe. I’ll look after you. I won’t leave you alone.’
Charlie’s face was still. The tips of her fingers were white where she
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