Shelter, p.1
Shelter, page 1
ABOUT THE BOOK
Meg lives alone: a little place in the bush outside town. A perfect place to hide. That’s one of the reasons she offers to shelter Nerine, who’s escaping a violent ex. The other is that Meg knows what it’s like to live with an abusive partner.
Nerine is jumpy and her two little girls are frightened. It tells Meg all she needs to know where they’ve come from, and she’s not all that surprised when Nerine asks her to get hold of a gun. But she knows it’s unnecessary. They’re safe now.
Then she starts to wonder about some little things. A disturbed flyscreen. A tune playing on her windchimes. Has Nerine’s ex tracked them down? Has Meg’s husband turned up to torment her some more?
By the time she finds out, it’ll be too late to do anything but run for her life.
CONTENTS
COVER PAGE
ABOUT THE BOOK
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
ARRIVAL
SETTLING
DAY OFF
WORK
SAFETY
GONE BUSH
VISITOR
FEAR
GOOD NEWS
DINNER
OUT OF TOWN
BAD NEWS
SUNDAY LUNCH
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
TRAPPED
CLUES
CORNERED
SIGNATURE
FLIGHT
BETRAYAL
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT PAGE
To Rhonda Jinks (1939–2019)
ARRIVAL
I FIRST SAW her spotlit by headlights, a pink plush rabbit tucked under her arm. She had a patch of rough skin near her mouth and another high on her cheekbone. Her expression was stoic. Beneath the hem of a white net tutu, her skinny little legs were bare except for a Wiggles bandaid on her right knee.
She looked just like Emily, and it broke my heart.
‘Megan.’ Jill tossed me a packet of nappies. ‘You’ll need these.’
‘I’ve stocked up already.’
‘No. These are for Analiese. She still wets the bed.’
‘Oh.’
‘And she’s got eczema. Don’t tell me that’s not stress-related.’ Jill dragged a bulging suitcase from the back of her four-wheel drive. ‘I bought some cream from the chemist, but I’m still a bit concerned. Nerine’s run out of the prescription stuff.’
I could barely absorb what she was saying. Everything had happened so fast, I still hadn’t caught up. Five minutes earlier I’d been sitting alone in my silent car, worrying that Jill wouldn’t be able to find me. Nights are always darker on country roads and the moon was masked by a thick veil of cloud. As for the church I’d chosen, it was set well back at the end of a long dirt driveway, and the sign on the front fence wasn’t very obvious. Not to someone who didn’t know the area. Not to someone who’d been driving for five hours with two kids and a nervous mother breathing down her neck.
I’d picked the church because it was quite remote—a little stone chapel in the middle of nowhere. Farmers had once come for miles to attend its Sunday services, but now it was just a wedding venue and a photo opportunity. There was no chance at all that anyone else would be there at midnight. No chance.
The only risk was passing traffic, though I’d parked well behind the building, away from the road. After an hour, finally, it happened. Tyres crunched. An engine purred. Two beams of light swept across the ragged clumps of sifton bush beyond the fence. Then Jill’s gleaming car bumped into view—so big and fancy that I was alarmed at first. I’d been expecting an old clunker like mine. But the face behind the wheel reassured me, even though it had aged a lot. Ten hard years had frosted Jill’s dark curls and carved deep lines around her mouth. Her glasses were new, though her hug was the same. Fierce and bony.
Unlike me, she’d never carried much weight.
Introductions took a few seconds; Jill seemed rushed and slightly distracted. She headed straight for the rear of her car and I followed her.
‘Is your boot open?’ she asked. I grabbed another packet of nappies and scurried back to my own vehicle, where Nerine was wrestling with a booster seat. She wasn’t what I’d expected, either. When you’re told that someone is ‘desperate and abused’, you get a picture in your head—but this girl wasn’t small and shuffling. She was tall, rangy and intense, with lots of pent-up energy. Her bleached hair was dark at the roots. With her bold jewellery, cropped jacket and slashed jeans, she looked confident. Forceful, even.
When she pulled her head out of the car, I saw the tension in her face. Her pale eyes were bloodshot.
‘Could you strap Ana in?’ she asked me. ‘I need to do Colette.’
‘Sure…yes…of course.’
I dropped the nappies into my open boot, then turned to the little girl with the pink rabbit. ‘Hello, sweetie. I’m Meg. I’m so happy to meet you.’
She didn’t reply. Instead she climbed into the booster seat and waited, staring blankly at the headrest in front of her. It was years since I’d buckled a kid into a car seat. I had to cast my mind back to when Emily was young and let muscle memory take over.
‘You must be at least five years old if you’re using a seat like this,’ I said.
She nodded.
‘When’s your birthday?’
The answer was just a thread of sound. I didn’t catch it even though I was leaning across her, buckling her up.
‘Sorry, sweetheart, I missed that.’
She opened her mouth again. But then Nerine came bursting through the opposite door, wielding a car seat the size of a garden mulcher. ‘That middle one—is it just a lap belt?’ she demanded breathlessly.
‘Uh—yeah.’ I couldn’t help feeling embarrassed. ‘Sorry. It’s a bit of an old bomb…’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I can manage.’
Thump. The whole car rocked as Jill dumped a suitcase into the boot one-handed. She was holding a grizzly toddler on her left hip and obviously needed help, so I went back to her four-wheel drive and grabbed two overstuffed sports bags and a soiled baby’s quilt. There wasn’t much else to move: just a couple of pillows, a backpack and a big paper shopping bag from Marcs.
‘Marcs? And a LandCruiser?’ I said to Jill. ‘Have you been promoted or something?’
‘Work’s going pretty well.’ She was jingling her car keys at Colette, who had the silky blonde curls of a Renaissance cherub. The toddler wore only a nappy and a pyjama top smeared with snot and chocolate.
She looked underweight to me.
‘Does she need a change?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Jill sniffed at the nappy. ‘How long before you get home?’
‘Two hours. Maybe a bit less…’
Jill raised her voice. ‘Do you want to change Collie, Nerine? It’ll be another two hours yet.’
‘She’ll keep,’ Nerine replied. ‘Bring her over, will you? I’m nearly done here.’
Colette complained loudly about getting strapped in, though I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I wondered if she could talk at all. On the phone Jill had told me that the younger kid was twenty-two months old.
Emily had been joining words together at that age.
‘We got some pull-ups for Ana because she was scared to pee in the bush,’ Jill informed me as we transferred the last of the luggage. ‘Most of the public toilets we passed were shut. But she’s usually okay in the daytime.’
‘Right. Thanks.’
‘No. Thank you.’ Jill put her hands on my shoulders, looking down at me with a frown on her face. ‘Are you all right with this? Is there anything else you need to know?’
‘Um…’ I tried to think. Diet? No—I’d already asked about diet. Jill had told me over the phone that neither kid had any obvious food allergies; Ana’s eczema was linked to stress. I’d also been told that there was a history of violence, and that both girls were showing signs of trauma. ‘The only thing we can do is provide a calm and nurturing environment,’ Jill had said. ‘Luckily my other contact is a counsellor, but she only had them for a week and it wasn’t enough time.’ After a moment’s pause, she’d added, ‘I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. Oh, well. Mea culpa.’
Huddled beside her, battling late-night fatigue, I racked my brain for an intelligent question. Not diet. Not toilet training.
‘Do you know how long they’ve been…’ I didn’t want to say ‘at large’. ‘On the move?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Jill admitted. ‘About a month, I think. Their first contact was too close to home and had to push ’em on quickly.’
‘They’ll be here for a while.’ I’d already warned Jill about the delay, but I thought it was worth repeating. ‘My contact can’t take them in for another month. Did you tell Nerine?’
Jill nodded. ‘She’s fine with that.’
‘It’s a family thing—’
‘Shhh! Don’t tell me!’ Raising her hand, Jill smiled and said, ‘Let’s stick to the rules, eh?’
She’d already explained the rules. Every network member had two direct contacts: the friend who dispatched and the friend who received. So if anyone ran into trouble, the trouble wouldn’t spread.
‘Nerine’s very anxious,’ Jill went on. ‘Very anxious.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ I was feeling pretty anxious myself.
‘Yes, but it can be hard to cope with. I’m just warning you. If you need any help, give me a call.’ Before I could thank her, she added, ‘Not with your own phon
‘No.’ I’d already been given the public phone drill. Jill had been very thorough. It was her third time, so she was an expert. ‘And if one of the kids gets sick—’ I began.
‘Call the emergency number I gave you. Failing that, the jig’s up. But warn me before you head for the hospital.’
‘Hey!’ Nerine called out suddenly. ‘Are we going, or what?’ She was standing by my open passenger door.
‘Be right with you!’ I was putting on a brave show, but my confidence was leaking away. I had a horrible feeling that I was going to mess it all up somehow.
‘You’re looking good,’ said Jill.
‘Not as good as you.’
‘I like your hair.’
‘My hair? Oh. Right.’ It was ten years since Jill had laid eyes on me. During that time, I’d started using hair dye. Keith had always been vicious about hair dye. Whether he thought it was a waste of money or he wanted me to feel bad about the way I looked, he’d given me such a hard time about my first dye job that I’d decided it wasn’t worth the hassle.
A feeling like that can be hard to shake. But finally, after six long years of freedom, I’d picked up a packet of Clairol and turned back into a redhead.
‘Thanks very much.’ I didn’t know how to respond. ‘Emily thinks it looks cheap.’
‘Well, I think it looks ballsy.’ Jill hugged me again, then retreated a step and asked if I was going to be all right.
‘Of course.’
‘No problems?’
‘None.’ I glanced over at Nerine, who was sitting in my car. ‘We have to do this. I mean, she’s one of us, isn’t she?’
‘She is. She’s one of us.’ Jill squeezed my shoulder. ‘Bye, Meg. Good luck. And thanks.’
‘Same to you.’
‘Drive carefully.’
That was easier said than done in a 1998 Commodore. But I slid behind the wheel and waited until Jill had manoeuvred her hulking great Toyota into a three-point turn. Once she was rolling down the drive, I started my own engine. ‘Right!’ I said. ‘Everyone ready?’
‘God, yes. Let’s go.’ Beside me, Nerine was gnawing at her fingernails. ‘This place is so creepy. Why did we have to meet in a graveyard?’
It wasn’t a graveyard, but I knew what she meant. In the glow of my headlights, the old church did look creepy.
I felt better when we’d left it behind.
No one talked much on the way home. Ana stared into the darkness. Colette fell asleep. I think Nerine may have dozed off too, though she was awake when we bounced across the cattle grid that spanned my front gate.
‘Wait—is this it?’ she said.
‘Yup.’
‘The Bolt Hole?’ She had spotted the sign under my street number. ‘It’s seriously called the Bolt Hole?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Jesus, Meg.’ Her fingers were drumming nervously on the dashboard. ‘Don’t you think that’s a dead giveaway?’
‘No. It’s fine.’ Poor woman, she was anxious to the point of paranoia. ‘I put that up years ago, when I first came here. Everyone knows about it. I felt like I was crawling into a burrow, you see?’
‘Yeah. Jill mentioned that.’ After a long pause, Nerine remarked, ‘You met at some kind of support group in Sydney, right? Because you were both married to shits?’
I glanced up at the rear-view mirror. She caught me looking.
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘They didn’t hear me, they’re asleep. God, is all this yours? It’s huge!’
‘Not really.’ The place was too rocky for cropping, too rough for sheep and too small for cattle. It was on top of a ridge, where the topsoil supported only native species that had evolved to survive high winds and variable temperatures. I didn’t tell her that, though. It wasn’t the time or the place.
‘Jill said you’d been doing it tough,’ Nerine continued, squinting out at the ghostly tree trunks that were flashing past. ‘But this must have cost a fortune.’
‘Nup. It was a weekender. No insulation. Tank water. The fencing isn’t finished. And I bought it eleven years ago, when land was still cheap.’ I’d also bought it with a small inheritance left to me by my father, but Nerine didn’t need to know that.
Suddenly my high beams hit Zincalume. I heard the sound of barking.
‘Here we are,’ I said. ‘That’s Esme on the veranda. Don’t worry about her—she loves kids.’
Nerine grunted. Pulling up at the garden gate I waited for her to make a move. When she didn’t, I got out myself.
By the time I’d pushed the gate open, Esme had joined me, waving her plumy tail like a flag. From inside the car I heard an inarticulate cry of joy. Someone had obviously seen her.
‘Not today, girl,’ I said, ruffling her ears. Normally I would have let her hop into the front passenger seat while I parked. ‘Hey, Nerine?’ I called out. ‘Can you hold Esme while you shut the gate behind me? I don’t want to run her over.’
Nerine was staring at my house, which had all the street appeal of a demountable site office with its low roof and aluminium windows. I’d painted it olive green, added a veranda and a brick chimney and planted a lot of vines and bushes, but it still wasn’t impressive. I knew that.
‘Nerine?’ I repeated.
She gave a start. ‘Oh! Yeah,’ she said. Then she slid out of the car and grabbed Esme’s collar.
‘Do you like the doggie?’ I asked Colette as I climbed back into the driver’s seat. She was wide awake and writhing with excitement. Even Analiese had perked up. ‘She’s called Esme and she loves children.’
Colette squealed something that might have been ‘dog’. I released the handbrake, changed gears and crawled into the yard until I reached the front steps. Behind me, Nerine closed the gate. Then she released Esme, who bounded up to the car as fast as her rickety old legs would carry her.
Poor Esme wasn’t getting any younger. I’d bought her soon after I bought the house, safe in the knowledge that Keith wouldn’t be around to snipe at me about her hair and her drool and her wayward turds while he sneaked chilli into her food. I still couldn’t believe I had a dog of my own. It was the dream of a lifetime.
‘Yes, girl. I’m back, here I am.’ I had to push her out of the way as I emerged from the car. ‘Time for bed, kids. Do you want to pat the doggie before you say goodnight?’
But Analiese had already gone. The booster seat was empty, the door beside it was open and the front steps were creaking. By the time I’d lifted Colette out of the car, her elder sister was trying to push her way into my house.
‘Hang on, sweetheart,’ I said. ‘Just let me get the key.’
Esme followed me onto the veranda, where I unlocked the front door. Nerine was still down by the car, unloading luggage, so I carried Colette through the living room, along the hallway, into the second bedroom. Here I’d made up the double bed and added two camp beds, just in case.
‘This is where you’ll be sleeping.’ I put Colette down and she immediately flung herself at Esme, who stood patiently enduring her clumsy attentions. Analiese sidled into the room behind us, still clutching her pink rabbit. She looked around cautiously.
‘Meg? Where are you?’ Nerine called from the vestibule.
‘In here!’ I watched Analiese approach the nearest camp bed. She craned her neck to examine the rainbow doona cover.
‘That can be yours, if you like,’ I told her. She looked at me, unblinking.
Then Nerine appeared, lugging her suitcase. Her energy was so agitated—so anxious and alert—that she seemed to fill the room. ‘Can you bring in the rest of that stuff?’ she pleaded. ‘I have to get these girls to bed…’
‘Of course.’ I spent the next few minutes emptying the boot and hiding the two safety seats in my shed. Meanwhile, Nerine changed nappies, washed faces and dug pyjamas out of sports bags. Soon the two camp beds had been stripped and refolded. ‘Won’t be needing those,’ she explained. ‘We always share a bed.’
I showed her the bathroom and the linen closet. I dragged Esme out of Colette’s reach, dumped the Marcs bag in the kitchen and wheeled the camp beds into the laundry. I drew curtains and fetched tooth glasses. Then I said goodnight.
‘Goodnight, Meg.’ Leaning on her bedroom doorknob, Nerine looked pasty with fatigue. ‘Thanks so much for this.’
‘It’s a pleasure. Really.’
‘You’re a brave woman.’
