Victoria, 1967
Steve woke early with the cold. William stirred beside him, and Steve pulled the blanket up to cover the boy’s chest and shoulders. He spread his jacket over the top—the good one he got for Christmas with the quilted lining. William gave a throaty murmur, sighed, and slept on. Each morning it was a little cooler. The wind came in off the ocean, shaking the window in its frame and rattling the door. They wouldn’t be able to stop here much longer.
He lay beside William and watched the light brighten through the gaps in the timber. This time of day was hardest. His head wandered off to dark places. He found himself remembering specific children, their names and their voices, the things they’d said when they figured out they weren’t going on holiday, after all. Sometimes they all came to him at once in symphony, but mostly it was one at a time, with a clarity that made him want to rip his skin off. Today it was the boy with the pale green eyes—Dale, his name was—who’d kicked and yelled for the first few hours and tried to jump from the truck when he’d told him the truth as they’d turned off for Kempsey. Steve lay on the bed feeling Dale’s bare foot against his spine, kicking the back of his seat as he drove. The sound of him shouting and howling. Trying the doors.
William wasn’t going to make up for it all, he knew that, but it was a start. He sat up straight in the bed, his back rigid at the thought of it. He was going to do right by this child. He would give him everything.
The boy shifted again and turned his head, his mouth pressed sideways against the mattress in a loose pout. There was a flush in his cheek, Steve thought. He held his hand to his forehead and felt heat there, not too bad but he lifted the covers off him just the same. The jacket had been too much, that was it. He put milk in a pan and set a low flame beneath it.
He pulled the curtain back from the small window. The sun was up. A wide blue sky with nothing in its way. The beach was empty, just a few gulls down on the shore. They didn’t see many people: the odd surfer, or the occasional tourist clambering down over the dunes from the road. The locals knew to avoid this stretch of water, where the Snowy River flowed out to sea, meeting waves ten feet high from the south. You never knew when the current would shift, when a southerly would pick up. More dangerous than beautiful, to most people’s minds.
Mandy had loved it here. He’d brought her down to be sure she was the woman he should marry, to see how she felt about this place that for him was perfect. She hadn’t wanted to leave.
“Come on, then.” He lifted William onto his knee. His nappy was wet, but he was hungry so he let him drink his milk. “Wait there,” Steve said, once he’d finished. He sat the boy down on the floor with the empty bottle. “Let me get a clean nappy. Get you nice and dry.”
William sat with his legs outstretched and hit the bottle against the timber floor, laughing at the noise. Steve stood and watched him. He’d be crawling next. All that strength in his small body, all that life.
“You’re getting big, mate,” Steve said.
The boy held one arm in the air and shrieked in reply.
“Getting noisy too.”
William laughed. He had a helpless laugh when he got going. Steve leaned forward and tweaked his little nose between his fingers, making him laugh harder.
“You’re a big, noisy bloke, ain’tcha?”
The boy fell quiet and his face became preoccupied. There was a bad smell.
“Oh, mate. You didn’t.”
He did. The stink was something shocking. Steve opened the door and let a cool breeze in off the ocean. The clean nappies were strung out to dry at the window, so he lifted one down and caught a clear view of the beach. There was somebody there, crossing the sand. A man was walking toward them purposefully, looking up at the cabin, moving with great, slow strides. It was like looking at himself. Ankle boots, blue uniform, police badge.
Steve dropped the nappy to the floor. Fear thumped hard inside him.
William looked up at him and laughed, cocked his head, expecting a response. Steve considered, in a panic, whether he could hide the child, if he could keep the cop outside, if he could meet him on the beach. William squealed, loud and high-pitched.
The cop saw him through the window and quickened his pace as Steve made for the door. The latch was stiff; he pulled it down but he knew it wouldn’t hold and there was no time to find the key. He heard the cop’s feet in the sand, getting closer. His grunt of effort as he shoved the door from the outside. The latch snapped under his weight. Steve pushed back against him from the inside, feeling his equal force, his strength. The door inched open and the cop jammed his boot in the gap.
“Sorry, mate,” he said. “You’re going to have to let me in.”
The copper stood on the sand and caught his breath. His face was confused. Appalled. A white fella holed up on a beach with a black kid.
“What’s this about?” Steve let the door swing open and did his best to fill the doorway. “This is private property.”
“We had a call,” the cop said, panting. He lifted his shoulder and wiped the sweat from his brow onto his sleeve. “From Sydney. You got a little lad with you?” The cop looked past him into the cabin.
Steve heard William behind him, babbling to himself. The ocean crashed loud on the beach. The copper watched the boy, nodded once, and returned his gaze to meet Steve’s. He dug his thumbs into the small of his back. He was a big bloke, not in the best shape. He looked more tired than a walk across the beach should make you.
“He’s a ward of the Welfare Board in New South Wales,” the cop said. “Someone kicked up a fuss. Called a few times. We’re tightening up the records.”
Steve considered charging past him, pushing him to the ground, running with the boy till he found a place to hide. But his legs were heavy; he could barely stand. “This is temporary,” he said. “This cabin. Just temporary.”
The cop looked at him blankly. A line of sweat ran down his face and dripped from his jaw.
“I’m waiting for my house to sell. We’ll move on from here soon as the money comes through. Just a few more weeks.”
The cop shook his head and wheezed. “My boss wants this kid out of his hair.” He thumped his chest with his fist and cleared his throat. “Like I said, he’s a ward of the Board in—”
“He’s well cared for.” Steve’s guts turned over. The cop was barely listening. He’d have seen people pull their hair out, soil themselves, drop to the ground and beg. “He’s like a son to me,” Steve told him. A wave broke on the beach, drowning out his words. “I love him like my own son.”
Behind him, William started up a whine. The copper took in the size of the child: his weight and build. His nostrils flared with the stink of his nappy.
“Christ.” He leaned back from the door. Covered his nose. He turned his back, but Steve heard him. “Filthy bloody animal.”
Steve stepped down onto the sand. He felt the insult personally. The shock of it returned the strength to his limbs, quieted his fear, reminded him that he was on the right side now. A cool breeze came in off the ocean and he breathed it into his lungs. He had to be smarter here, for William’s sake. He was getting this all wrong.
“Look,” he said. “I’m in this game myself. My dad was a cop before me and his dad before that.”
“You’re a cop?”
Steve nodded. “Nearly ten years, based in Sydney.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
“You caught me off guard.” He jerked his thumb at William. “I know this looks strange. He’s a kid I removed myself a couple of months back. I got attached to him. I’m hoping to adopt him once I’ve got myself together.”
The cop looked at Steve a long time. “It does seem strange to me, to be honest, mate.”
“I bet.” Steve managed to laugh.
“They didn’t mention you were a cop when they sent me down here.”
“Must have been crossed wires somewhere.” Steve tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. “You could call my boss, up in Sydney. Sergeant Perry. He’s based at Parramatta. He’ll vouch for me if you speak to him direct.”
He nodded slowly. “He’s signed this off, has he?”
“That’s right. Got his permission before I headed down here.” He looked away, feeling the lie in his face.
“I don’t know, mate.” The cop looked at his boots, weighing this up. “Don’t think I can walk away from here empty-handed.”
“Speak to Ray,” Steve said. “You don’t want to drive all the way up to Sydney with a baby if you can avoid it. Took me days to get down here with him, what with all the stopping and starting.”
William’s whine became a wail. The cop turned and looked out at the steep face of the beach, the gulls settled on the dunes. There was no one about for miles. “Maybe I’ll leave it for today. Give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Steve gave him a nod, forced a smile. He gripped the doorframe for support.
The copper looked at William with distaste. “Do me a favor and keep him out of sight, would you? Don’t go attracting attention to yourselves.”
“No worries,” Steve said.
“Sergeant Perry, was it? Parramatta?”
“That’s the one, mate.”
The copper turned and started back toward the road, lifting his legs high to keep the sand out of his boots.
A call from Sydney. Steve let the phrase fill his head as he got the boy cleaned up. Mandy must have told them where they were. He needed to stay calm, keep that thought at bay for now. He wiped the boy down and noticed a rash across his belly and down his legs. Looked sore. He picked William up and felt the heat coming off his skin. Might be the start of a fever. He’d let him sleep a while. They’d have to wait till nightfall to load up the truck and get themselves ready to move on.
A call from Sydney. He sat on the bed and cried long and hard like a stupid bastard. William fell asleep on his shoulder, breathing hotly against his neck.