The Girl Who Couldn't Smile by Shane Dunphy Page B

that?’
    No change in her.
    ‘I thought you’d run away on me, and I was very worried about what I was going to tell your mam and dad. I don’t think they’d be very pleased if I lost their little girl, would they?’
    A twitch, right across her body, almost like a ripple on a pond.
    ‘I’d feel pretty bad if I had to go on out to your house and tell them you’d taken off and I didn’t know where you were. What do you reckon they’d say to me?’
    Her eyes slid in my direction. The woods seemed to have become very still – even the wind had dropped. I could feel the weight of my body on the branch, the rough texture of the bole beneath my hands. I could smell pollen, soil and my own sweat. I reached out my hand to her. ‘Will you let me take you down, Tammy love?’
    She shook her head – two deliberate movements, left and right.
    ‘I’m not mad, baby. I was a little bit before, when I was worried, and you might have heard me being cross with Milandra, but I’m not cross now.’
    The shake again. She moved even closer into the tree – I hadn’t thought it was possible for her to do so, but she managed it.
    ‘Okay. Will we just sit here for a while, then?’
    She nodded. I scooted around on my bum to get a bit more comfortable, supporting my back against an arching branch. I knew I should be talking to Tammy, reassuring her, trying to lure her down, but I didn’t want to overload her. She had shown a huge leap of trust in responding to my overtures, and I sensed that overstepping the mark might make her clam up completely. So we rested, high above the ground.
    I don’t know how long we remained like that. I don’t wear a watch. I had my mobile phone in my jacket pocket, and I dearly wanted to reach in and check the time to see if we had missed the bus, but I didn’t want the child to think I was losing patience with her.
    Time passed interminably. My arms ached from holding on, and I dared not look down – I’m not exactly afraid of heights but I have no great love of them, either. I was starting to get hungry, and worried about Millie. Dogs develop a natural sense of rhythm and routine. I thought it was probably a very long time past when I usually came home and fed her. But it was quite likely that Lonnie would anticipate how long I’d be, and call over to check on her.
    That thought reminded me of the uncharitable feelings I had harboured towards my friend earlier, and I deliberately forced them aside again. Such a betrayal would have to be worked through, but just then was hardly the time.
    The air slowly became cooler and the texture of the light changed from pale gold to a dusky grey. I glanced at Tammy– she was gazing at me fixedly. ‘I think it might start getting a little bit cold soon,’ I said.
    She shivered. She was wearing a thin T-shirt and a tatty pair of blue jeans that might have fitted her a year ago, but certainly didn’t any more. She had little to protect her from the elements – I wondered how used she was to physical discomfort. Many children I had worked with in the past had become so acclimatized to cold, hunger, pain and distress that they shrugged off such sensations as part of their normal living conditions. Would Tammy register them, or ignore them completely?
    ‘The bus will have gone by now, I’m sure, but there’s a nice heater in my car, and I have the keys to Little Scamps right here in my pocket,’ I said conversationally. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to get a little bit hungry. We could go in and have some supper before I drop you home. I could call your parents to let them know you were held up.’
    Tammy shifted a little, seemingly not so confident in her position as she had previously been. I lapsed back into silence. I wondered what was going through her mind – she seemed stolidly determined to remain at her post, but then I had to question what had sent her up the tree in the first place. What was she running from? I remembered the