The Boy Under the Table (8 page)

Mark was quiet. He looked at the flashing lights of a stripclub.

The police knew she needed them but they just looked right through her. The body was rotting by the time they found it. Maybe they could have saved her. Well, not saved, but helped at least.

That’s two people I couldn’t save.
The words were a stray thought that tormented her while she stood on the street watching the cars go by. The universe had a weird sense of humour.
Two people I couldn’t save.

‘No one believes people like us, Mark. We’re the scum of the earth.’

‘Speak for yourself.’

‘I am speaking for myself. I can’t just leave that kid there. He only looks half alive now. I have to get him out.’

‘Why do you care? It’s not your kid.’

‘Why don’t you care? He’s someone’s kid. I don’t want to discuss it. In or out?’

‘Fine,’ Mark sighed, ‘but you know the bloke probably has a gun or something. You could get us both killed.’

Tina hadn’t thought about the possibility of a gun. A security guard could have a gun. A security guard
would
have a gun.

She shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’ve never seen a gun before. You stay outside. If you hear a shot, call the police.’

‘Yeah, that’s a good time to call the police.’

‘Shut up, you wanker. Let’s just go.’ Tina was using her teacher voice again. ‘Make sure your phone is on and don’t fall asleep on me.’ They kept their mobiles working. Tina went to the gym to charge hers and sometimes she went without food rather than run out of credit.

Mark nodded like he understood and suddenly he looked ten years old instead of the sixteen he was.

What the fuck am I doing?
Tina asked herself as they walked along the road in the cold.

The rain had stopped but she could feel it preparing for a return.

If the rain stays away and if the guy is a heavy sleeper and if the window really is broken and if it moves without making a noise and if the kid doesn’t scream or cry and if I can climb out quickly and if no one sees us . . . If, if, if.

See what you can do, universe.

It took fifteen minutes to find the house. The streets had that eerie silence that three o’clock in the morning always brought with it. The wind had died down but the cold wrapped itself around their bodies. Mark blew warm breath rings in the air.

Tina spotted the window immediately. From the outside it was higher off the ground than it seemed inside. She was glad she had Mark along to help.

‘Give me the knife.’

‘What’s it for?’

‘Cutting some rope.’

‘I hope it’s not too thick. The knife’s basically a piece of crap.’

‘It’ll have to do.’

Tina felt a flash of disbelief at what she was about to attempt. She stomped hard on the feeling. There were a lot of things she did now that she would never have believed possible. Tonight she was going to steal a boy from an animal. Tomorrow—who knew?

Tina stood on Mark’s shoulders and tried the window. It moved. Relief flooded her body. She inched it up slowly and quietly just the way Mark had taught her to do when she had been out with him on a job. She had only gone out a couple of times. She didn’t enjoy the adrenalin rush and the fear. Sometimes the boys made enough to stop working for a week or so but they always went back to it. Food was cheap but the blissful warmth that came through a needle was expensive. They did what they had to do. Tina had never even taken a step down the path of oblivion, however tempting it sometimes seemed. She held on to her books and the stories in her head. She lost herself in words. It would have made things so much easier to let the warmth in, but it also would have made anything but a life in the Cross almost impossible. She didn’t think about the future but sometimes it crossed her mind that one day she might be somewhere else. She knew it would be better if she managed to hold on to a little of the person she had been, just in case she needed her again.

She held on to that and a regular shower.

The window slipped up easily enough.

The man would be the kind of person who kept every hinge oiled. If Tina hadn’t been looking for an escape route she would never have noticed the one thing the man had missed. The window looked perfect if you didn’t look too closely. From the outside, no one would know the window was broken. From the outside, no one would know what was going on inside the house.

Tina took a deep breath. It had been almost too easy.

Mark lifted his hands and made a cradle for Tina’s feet. Tina stepped on them and swung herself inside. She knew there was a counter under the window and she landed as quietly as she could, tensing all her muscles.

The counter was completely clear. Nothing out of place.

The streetlight helped her see her way around. She waited on the counter, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. Everything was just the way it had been, but there was a faint whiff of food in the air. It was mostly covered by the smell that was coming off the boy, but Tina also detected a hint of tomato sauce. She didn’t know how the man could bear to cook or eat in the kitchen with that stench. Would he have given the boy some food or would he have looked into that gaunt little face and deliberately ignored the kid’s obvious hunger? Did he cook his food and take it into another room and forget that there was a child under the table? How could he eat and not care about the starving child? Tina worked hard to cut herself off from everything, but she did not know how a person could cut themselves off from a child starving under their very own kitchen table. Most people would find it hard to cut themselves off from a dog starving under their kitchen table.

It occurred to Tina that she had no real idea what she was dealing with. She had come through this window determined to grab the child but the clean man was like nothing she had ever encountered.

She had met men who were drunk and looking to end their night with a bang, and men who were angry about their wives or their ex-wives. She had been with men who wanted her to tell them she was twelve and boys who were looking for a way to begin their sex lives. She had a couple of men hit her and a few who stole from her but she had never seen anything like this. The calculated way he had brought her into the house and let her see the child indicated someone with no fear of repercussions. Without fear. If he caught her here tonight, doing this, he would surely kill her.

Tina looked around the room from the top of the counter.

The boy was still under the table, shivering in the icy air. Whatever was going to happen, there was no way she was going to leave him here. It was too late now to turn back. He was so tiny and skinny Tina stopped to breathe in and out before approaching him. He looked breakable.

Her body relaxed in the silence and she thought how easy it would be just to climb back out the window and go to the police. She could shout and scream until they came. She could . . . but she was here now and this was where she was supposed to be.

She slipped off the counter and got down on her hands and knees. She crawled over to where the boy was, almost sliding along the polished floor. When she got close to him she saw his body tense. He was awake and he was waiting for something. He had probably been listening since she slid the window up. Before he could make any noise she pushed her hand across his mouth.

He sat up instantly, already terrified and struggling, but when he saw Tina he became still. He had not been expecting Tina.

For a moment he just stared at her and waited. Tina could see him thinking it through. Here was something new and he would wait before going crazy at her.

Tina pushed her finger up against her lips and the boy nodded. She took the knife out of her pocket and began sawing at the rope that was tied around his leg.

He sat stiffly for a moment and then he leaned forward and pulled the rope a little to make it easier for Tina to get to. His fingers brushed against her. They were ice-cold. Tina resisted the urge to grab his hand and blow warm breath on his fingers.

It was heavy-going. The knife was a simple flick knife and it wasn’t in the best shape. Tina knew there was probably a much better knife somewhere in the house, but if the man had any intelligence he would have taken them all out of the kitchen.

Finally the rope around the boy’s leg loosened and broke. The skin underneath looked wrong even in the dim light coming from the street. Like it had chafed and healed many times.

Tina was sweating. She took off her heavy coat and draped it around the boy. He sighed quietly as he sank into her leftover warmth. But then she had to take it off his shoulders so she could get at the rope on his neck. He didn’t protest but she saw him bite his lip.

He was motionless and noiseless. If she looked at his face he lowered his eyes. Even the fiercest of animals can understand when they are being helped.

Tina was terrified of hurting or cutting him so she went very slowly. Her hands were starting to cramp.

She put the knife down on the floor and opened and closed her hands a few times until the cramp went away.

Then she sighed and picked up the knife again.

All she could hear was her ragged breath and the boy’s whistling one. He wiped his nose on his T-shirt every few minutes.

Jesus, Tim, get a bloody tissue, will you?

I don’t need one.

Yes you do. Come here. Blow.

The boy’s head lifted a little and he turned as though he was listening to something. Tina stopped sawing at the rope and listened too. They both held their breaths.

Right here, right now, in this cold kitchen they were just animals. They only had their senses and their instincts to rely on so Tina cocked her head like a cat and tried to hear what the boy was hearing.

In the stillness of the kitchen they could hear something other than the air moving in and out of their lungs.

Tina moved closer to the boy and crouched next to him to wait until she could work out what the noise was. She made herself small and felt his cold arm against her. She stilled herself. Something, someone was coming. There were footsteps. Slow, creeping footsteps.

Light flooded the kitchen.

‘What the fuck?’ said the man, lunging for Tina.

Tina scooted to one side, bumping her head and shoulder, and dropped the knife. She slipped out from under the table between the man’s legs and stood on the other side of the kitchen.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, girlie?’ said the man. He had a slight smile on his face. He was ready to play.

Tina knew there was no reason to say anything.

‘You don’t want to be playing the hero here, luv. You belong on your knees and maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you live.’

Tina held her tongue. He sounded like he was reading his speech off a cue card. He sounded like some stupid horror-movie villain. He sounded like the arsehole he was. Tina knew that what she should be feeling was fear but all she could feel was the churning anger in her stomach leaping and growing.

Some people should not be allowed to exist.

The man started towards her. He moved slowly as if she might not figure out what he was trying to do.

The boy under the table was curled up and small again. He was covered in Tina’s coat.

Clever kid
, thought Tina.

She looked towards the door to the lounge room and in that moment she knew that she had been planning what to do all along. It hadn’t been a concrete idea, just an image somewhere in her mind. She had seen herself with her hands on the poker that stood next to the large fireplace. She had not known what her hands would do with the poker but she had seen them holding it, white-knuckled and tight.

The man started towards her and she darted through the door and into the lounge room. A small lamp was on, giving her enough light to see.

Thank you, universe
.

She went straight for the fire and didn’t even think about it. She picked up the poker and as she felt the man’s hand on her shoulder, she turned around and swung it, letting her anger and her fear give her the strength.

It connected with his hip and he stepped back and then she swung again and this time it connected with his nose. Blood gushed everywhere.

‘Jesus, fuck,’ said the man, stumbling backwards across the room and onto a chair. He held one hand protectively over his nose.

‘You little cunt, you fucking slut,’ he said. The words came out hollow and slurred but Tina heard them.

The man stood up and came back towards her and she swung the poker again. This time it connected with the side of his head and he went down.

He lay on the ground with one hand over his nose and the other on the side of his head. Tina felt like she had been in the house forever but she knew it had only been minutes.

She stood over the man with the poker at the ready. In the place of thoughts there was only a buzzing in her head.

‘Don’t, please,’ the man moaned. ‘Just stop, okay? Please, I’m begging you—I’m really hurt. My wallet’s in the bedroom on the chest of drawers. Please just take the money and leave. I won’t say anything to the police, I promise—just don’t hit me again, okay?’