Sliver Moon Bay: The Looking Page 6

  Around the corner, a commotion. I see Chris by his truck facing off with a man. Ah, not that again. But it is. A reporter has come by, wants to speak to us, take more pictures to keep us current, in the public eye. But Chris won’t allow it. He sets the man straight. Detective Martin is the one to speak to. There will be no interviews with the family and if you don’t get out of here I will take that camera off you, man. Chris is getting hot under the collar. And why wouldn’t he be? He has a good reason to be pissed off. The press hasn’t been that kind to us. Speculative, more like. And only marginally helpful. We’ve cooperated in the hope of, but in reality nothing has come out of it. Starling’s picture in the paper, the write-up on the situation in the local rag and the regional tv coverage has netted us a big fat nothing. So thanks a lot, but you’ll have to move on now, man. Chris is trying hard to remain civil. He doesn’t want any attention. There is simply nothing new to report, he tells the man. The man scratches his bald pate with a calling card. He hands it over, Chris takes it. You can see he’s going along just to be rid of the guy. Okay, I will call you if there’s any news. Chris tucks the man’s card in his shirt pocket and Baldy goes away. You can see what he’s thinking just by the way he strides purposefully down the path towards his car. He’s thinking he has wasted enough of his time. The burned out house, the family anguish here has been milked just about dry and unless there’s a new lead, some new development to capture the public’s imagination, this human interest story has been told. So the man goes, for now. Course, I know that he’ll be back. He will so be back.

  Chris is leaving now too. He’s joining the search which has moved away from the shore line towards the road to town. They’ve got fresh horses, sniffing dogs, experienced trackers. Chris is being very hopeful right now. Everyone’s out there looking. The weather is holding up well. We’re in with a good chance. She’s in with a good chance. To survive another day in her hidey hole. And we’re going to find it. Today.

  So Chris leaves and I’m in charge. Of Lilian who’s resting in the caravan. She’s been re-medicated.

  Soon she falls asleep. I’m free to go looking. I know where I want to begin. At old Drake’s.

  There’s nobody there. Not even a crime tape stretched across the front door so I walk in cause it’s open. The place is clean, neat. The bed’s made. It looks exactly like the last time I was here. So nobody’s looked for anything in here. The pictures are gone, obviously. Starling isn’t here, obviously. But just in case, I call her. Starling! Starling! —But it’s only me in here looking stupid, acting loud. So I go to the shed and I look there. I peek into Assassin’s kennel. Just in case. And now I know why nothing’s been disturbed. There’s no need to disturb the peace here. It’s not where it happened, is it? So I walk around, peeking into places, all over the property. It takes a while, course it does. But a job needs to be done properly so I look. Everywhere. Lurk, observe, look, poke. The usual but it’s no fun without Assassin snapping at your heels. It’s weird but I do miss the old man breathing down my neck. Lurking here is no fun now. If just feels empty without him shadowing me, watching. Snapping his stupid photographs. A lot of good that did him. The fool.

  Well, the place is only quiet. I’m back in Drake’s bedroom. Again. Still, I’d better look under the bed, behind the blanket box. Just in case.

  ‘Sarah. Honey, what are you doing?’

  God, she scared me. I’m crawling from under the bed, double quick.

  ‘I’m just looking, Mum. You know how she likes to play Hide and Seek.’

  Lilian’s leaning on the doorframe. She’s in her nightie, barefoot. Trembling.

  ‘You should be resting, Mum.’

  ‘I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of all the places we haven’t looked.’

  I nod. We hug. Lilian begins to cry, hangs onto me. She feels like a pile of dead leaves.

  ‘Me too, Mum. Don’t cry, please. She will turn up. Soon.’

  ‘I know. I know. I know,’ she sobs.

  And I take her away.

  We get home and I put her to bed. Then I go outside, sit under the window to wait for news.

  But there isn’t any. Chris returns with Detective Martin. Chris looks defeated but the Missing Children Expert has a plan. Involving me. Well, obviously, I’ll do my bit. I’m ready to go down to the beach. Just me and Chris and the big town detective. He wants me to show him exactly how Starling and I got there, what we did and where we went; he wants me to show him everything we would normally do. It’s awkward. But we need to know. We need to re-enact real life so I’m taking my tricycle as I normally would. Except Starling isn’t here, sitting in her basket behind me, looking like a giant lollipop with her big round helmet and her long skinny neck. She isn’t there and it doesn’t feel right. But I’m going through the motions. Who knows, something might come out of this.

  The men follow me on foot. They’re keeping up pace though I’m pedalling, I think, a little faster than I normally would cause Starling isn’t here to weigh me down. We pass old Drake’s gate, we’re snaking along the fence line like we always do. But it’s no fun now I haven’t Assassin to dodge. It’s very quiet, down here under the treetops, even with my wheels crunching leaves and snapping twigs underfoot. It’s a very conspicuous sound, I would think, but Detective Martin isn’t saying much about it. Nothing at all, actually, and I can see Chris is sweating. Why? It isn’t hot. It’s windy. Howling, above the treetops. I think Chris was wrong about the favourable weather. It’s definitely taken a turn for the worse. It’s not a day Starling and I would chose to spend on the beach. The surf is up. The birds not even circling. They’re hiding in the dunes. It’s not a day for a living soul to be out.

  Detective Martin scans the beach. He’s looking at me, at Chris. He’s not asked one question. Keeps on walking about, poking his foot in the sand, like a confused stork. I’m really wasting time here. I want to be excused from this futile exercise.

  We walk along the shoreline. The waves are coming in and falling back the way they usually do. I walk close to the water, to make sure my footsteps are erased. The two men are ahead of me now, looking towards the dunes where Captain Josh is scouring the bushes, with a fresh search party. Will today be the day?

  24

  The wind has shifted. It’s lifting the sand, like a sheet. It looks like half the dune is sliding towards us. Huh. A sand avalanche. I haven’t seen one for a long, long time. Starling has never seen one. I could cry. Starling should be here, seeing this. But the sand stops unimaginatively, half way down the slope, piles into a fat roll, settles there. It’s made a new step. It’s going to make climbing easier. Then Captain Josh emerges on top of the cliff. He’s waving. He wants us to come up. Chris breaks into a run, climbing up the newly settled sand, his boots squeaking. Starling should be here for this; she’d love the funny little ducky noise the boots are making but this isn’t good news. I’m right behind Chris and I can see, even from here, Captain Josh’s frowning. He’s looking worried, Captain Josh is, and I don’t know what to expect.

  ‘Do you recognize this?’

  Chris nods, says nothing. He’s staring.

  Captain Josh looks at me. He’s sweating all over. I can smell him, even though I’m not that close. I don’t want to get any closer to him. Or the small plastic bag he’s holding in his right hand, towards Chris, at eye level. It’s see-through so we can see clearly what’s inside. Captain Josh has Starling’s pink dress in a zip lock bag.

  ‘She wasn’t wearing this. She was in h-her p-pyjamas. Where did you g-get th-this?’ Chris’s teeth are chattering. He’s shaking, from head to toe.

  ‘We found it in your father’s garbage, Chris.’

  Chris makes a sound. I’ve never heard a sound like that, ever. The sound is followed by a thin ribbon of projectile vomit. It hits Captain Josh’s boots. It happens so quickly that nobody moves.

  25

  It was a truly awful moment. In so many ways, but mainly cause nothing got solved. We were all co
nfused. Chris couldn’t get his head around it. He kept saying how he didn’t want Lilian to know. It’ll kill ‘er, it’ll kill ‘er, he kept repeating. They made him sit down, on the ground, and me beside him. So I sat there with Chris and for the first time, in a long time, I felt sorry for him. I wanted to say something comforting to him but I couldn’t find the words. What could one say? That things will be alright? What good would that do? —Exactly. So we sat there as we were. Alone. Together. As always.

  Then Detective Martin took the bag from Captain Josh. They huddled together, a few steps from us, with their backs all hunched so we could see nothing, of their expressions, hear nothing, of what they talked about. I didn’t care. I don’t think they knew any more than we did. So we all imagined, collectively and separately, different things that might or might not have occurred. It really was very draining.

  Course, this was just the tip of the iceberg. Lilian had to be told, and Detective Martin was the one who told her. Chris couldn’t face it. Chris wouldn’t even go near the caravan. Sat in Captain Josh’s car, wrapped in a blanket, teeth chattering.

  So I was the last man standing. I stood beside Detective Martin, knocking on the door, to deliver the dreadful news to Lilian. Course, I was a mess but somebody had to hold it together. For all of our sakes. I stood there, waiting for Lilian to open the door, and counting elephants. It’s something Starling and I did when we hid in our room while Chris and Lilian argued, back in the day.

  One elephant, two elephant, three elephant… She opens the door. She’s in her bathrobe, looking sleepy, looking hazy. She’s been smoking, all sorts.

  Detective Martin tells her. He doesn’t have the bag with him but she believes him. She sways in the doorway. Says she knew; she had long suspected the old man had something to do with Starling going missing. She’d had a feeling, you know. Lilian’s clutching at her throat, pulling at the lapels of Chris’s robe. She’s looking straight at the detective. Course, he reads into it. It’s his job to. He tells her that he will speak with Drake, at the hospital right now as soon as he can get there— but Lilian cuts him off with a laugh. She laughs, emitting a dry, percussive sound, like bullets sinking into metal. In the next breath she stops.

  ‘Dude,’ she waves her cigarette dangerously close to his thin, dehydrated nose, ‘the old fuck’s just died.’ She slams the door in his face.

  26

  So they turn old Drake’s inside out. The cabin, the shed, the kennel. No more RIP Assassin. The dog’s dug up. Sniffed over. Reburied. Meanwhile, in the house, chaos reigns supreme. Things are sent off for analysis. The sheets off Drake’s bed. Towels. Some kitchen utensils. A missing pillowcase causes a storm of speculation, random thoughts shooting all over the universe, then gurgling down a black hole. It’s all a bit mad. Like they’re going to find Starling here. Seriously? The old dude would just leave her lying about amongst the dope? It doesn’t make sense. She’s gone. Gone to Heaven. So what does all this matter? —Exactly.

  The old fuck’s dead. We won’t be able to get our pound of flesh. That’s the only thing that would have made a… something of a difference. To somebody. Not to me cause I just want Starling back. Not to Lilian. She doesn’t know what’s going on; sleepwalking now, even during the day. But Chris is full of energy, full of rage. He hovers like a humming bird, even when he’s still. It’s scary. I know where this is going. This can’t last. This man is not long for this world, is my guess. So I’m trying my best not to add to his pain. I’m being a good girl. I’ve even gone back to school where I’m being noticed, again. I’m used to it now. I won’t be chased away. There’s no point going anywhere else. With parents like mine, word would spread everywhere regardless of how far we’d go. Their little girl’s missing. The weirdo grandad did it. Ahhh, no wonder… people would whisper, pity us, imagine they could understand how it feels. And that can’t be cause their little girl is not missing. So nobody has the faintest how this feels. How you cling to— At least here, we’re close to her. I can still go to the beach. To think about her. So we might as well keep going with our useless lives here.

  The days go by, somehow. In bed, I dream of Starling. It’s draining. It is. I’d rather see Fairy but she’s sulking. She hasn’t come to me since. And she screamed at me then. So she wasn’t herself. So I’m hoping we could make up. Go back to where we started. But she’s not coming. She’s having issues with all of it. Like I used to. But it’s all been sorted now and Starling comes instead. At least I’m no longer alone. My little birdie keeps me company.

  ‘One efelant, two efelant, tree efelant, sick efelant… Leady or not, Salah, hele I come!

  I’m stomping around the house. Course, I see she’s under the table, covering her eyes. She can’t see me so I can’t see her, is what she’s thinking. Okay. Let’s give her some giggles.

  ‘Hide, hide, hide, little birdie! I’m coming to get you.’

  —

  ‘Not now. I don’t feel well… Chris, don’t!’

  Oh dear.

  ‘We’ll… Lil. I love you.’

  Oh Lord. One elephant, two elephant, three elephant…

  ‘Lilian, please...’

  ‘Don’t touch me!’

  —

  The door opens. He exits the caravan. Bang! He enters the truck. Bang! He’s reversing down the path. It’s a stupid move, dangerous in the light of day and we’re smack bang in the middle of the darkest night. Ah, well. What will be will be.

  Next door, behind the kitchen space, in her bedroom space Lilian twists open her bottle of little magic pills. She takes out, let’s see, one two maybe even three. She’ll need them. She drinks from her water bottle, swallows. Noisily her little friends are going down. Soon her pain will all be danced away, in Oblivion. She puts the bottle down. One elephant, two… she’s unconscious, I’ll bet. Good for her. It’s the only way her Starling will appear. To her.

  27

  Chris doesn’t come home. Instead, there’s a call from Captain Josh. He tells Lilian Chris is being interviewed, at the police station in town. He will be there for a while.

  Lilian tells me. She’s matter-of-fact about it. It’s just another interview, like before, you know. Yeah, I know, I just nod. She’s okay with it. She’s gonna take a pill and chill. So I’m left alone. Which suits me fine. I like silence, now that it’s just the two of us, mostly. Cause there really isn’t much to say. Everything that could be said in this situation pretty much has been said and there is only so much comforting each other you can do. And you’re always waiting, for something that never arrives. You want your birdie back but it’s gone now, flown the coop. And it’s not coming back.

  Lilian goes to lie down. I walk down to the beach.

  Today, Sliver Moon Bay looks spectacular. I walk from one tip of the bay to the other, like we used to with Starling. Course, back then we used to run, right along the edge. It’s not the same without her so I’m just walking now. The waders don’t even notice me. It feels different here. Kinda boring. Nobody’s building sandcastles, nobody’s spying. The boredom of it, here, alone, makes me tired. So l lay me down and close my eyes.

  ‘Come find me, Salah!’

  Starling’s knobbly head pokes out of the bushes.

  ‘Find me!’

  I will. I will find you, my little bird.

  ‘I’m coming, Starling, ready or not!’

  The setting sun gets inside my eyes. It tickles me behind my eyelids, reminding me that I’m not dreaming. I’m not. She’s here somewhere and she must be found. It’s really silly how we’ve all given up on my little birdie. And that is so wrong. I don’t really care how we do it. I just want her to be found. But there’s nobody looking anymore. This has to change.

  I get home and find Lilian conscious. She’s making me spaghetti, stirring the sauce, slumped over the stove.

  ‘Mum. She’s here, somewhere close. I know she is. ’

  She looks up, looks at me like I’m touched in the head.

  ‘Okay, honey.
We’ll go looking.’ She goes back to stirring the sauce.

  Oh, dear. She has given up. This is going to be harder than I thought.

  Outside, lights appear.

  Oh dear. Chris is coming home.

  He walks in, takes off his jacket, walks past the dinner table to the bedroom space. Behind the partition, the bed squeaks. I don’t think he took his boots off. They’ll just be hanging off the bed.

  We eat alone. Afterwards, I clear the plates off the table. Lilian starts on the dishes. She’s happy to do them, happy for me to go inhabit my space, behind the other partition. She wants me to do my homework and listen to music through the headphones while I’m doing it.

  Okay, Lilian, I get it. I’ll get out of your way.

  28

  ‘Who told you that? Detective Martin?’

  ‘No. Josh told me. They’ve known about it for a long time.’

  ‘And nobody kept an eye?’

  ‘Lilian. The man did his time.’

  ‘So? You always said you didn’t trust him.’

  ‘That was for a different reason altogether. He left my mother and me when we needed him most.’

  ‘Well, he went to jail, didn’t he? It’s not like he could have helped that.’

  ‘Sure. Whatever… Lil, you need to— ’

  —

  God, this is going to go on… Fairy, please come. Starling, please, show up, do something. Put me out of my misery. I really can’t stand any more of this. But on and on it goes, on their side of the caravan, under the covers, this evil whispering.

  ‘Lil’, listen to me. They think Drake killed her, put her in the ocean. That’s why we haven’t found her.’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘Lil’… He might have. It makes sense.’

  ‘No, he didn’t put her in the ocean. Sarah goes every day. She knows Starling is not in the water. She knows the beach.’