Out of Time (8 page)

She had been hungry for a while but the hunger passed. She did not know how long she had been there but thought it had probably been all day. The worst thing, perhaps, was the silence, which was terrible.

She passed into a kind of sleep again. If anything had happened she would have been aware of it. But nothing happened. She slept because there was nothing else to do.

*

DOUG MOTTRAM WAS
a tall, balding man, a solicitor who lived in the city, drove a Saab, and loved to windsurf and play squash. He was married to Cathy and was the father of a son, Andrew.

Cathy Mottram was a tall, clear-skinned woman, a dentist who lived in the city, drove a Volvo, and loved to ride horses and play squash. She was married to Doug and was the mother of a son, Andrew.

One day Cathy had to drive across town to a nursing home to treat an elderly patient with toothache who was too frail to travel to her. On the way, by arrangement, she picked up Andrew as he came out of school. Andrew sat in the car and did his homework while his mother went into the nursing home. Afterwards Cathy drove back through the city, stopping at a medical supply company to purchase some goods. She parked at a meter about half a block away, telling Andrew again to wait in the car.

Cathy was away about ten to twelve minutes. When she returned Andrew had gone.

‘Was anything missing from the car?'

‘His lunchbox. A street directory.'

‘Where did he keep his lunchbox?'

‘Well, it was normally in his schoolbag, which was still in the car. But his lunchbox wasn't in it any more, so we assume that's when it went missing.'

‘Did he seem upset about anything?'

‘No, quite the contrary.'

‘Was he the kind of boy who might run away?'

‘No, he's a happy, confident child.'

‘Has he ever run away?'

‘Oh, just the usual tantrums when he was younger. He went round the block a couple of times.'

‘Did you have any arguments during the car trip?'

‘No. He was keen to get his homework done before we got home, so he could watch television. That seemed to be his major concern.'

‘When's the last argument you had with him?'

‘Oh. . . I suppose. . . on Monday. I wouldn't let him go to his friend's place, because he'd been there half the weekend anyway. I said it was Jem's turn to come here. It wasn't a major argument – he could see the sense of it. He's a sensible kid.'

‘Was he in any trouble at school?'

‘No, he's quite a leader there, it seems. The teachers like him.'

‘Would he have left the car with a stranger voluntarily?'

‘Heavens, no.'

‘Did you see anyone you knew during the afternoon's driving?'

‘No, not really. I mean just the usual parents and kids outside the school. And there were a few staff and patients at the rest home whom I've gotten to know over the months I've been going there.'

‘Do you have any enemies?'

‘Oh not like that, no.'

‘Anybody who might wish you harm?'

‘No, no.'

‘Is he a healthy boy?'

‘Oh yes.'

‘No bumps on the head lately? No concussions or similar?'

‘Not that we've heard, or know about.'

Doug and Cathy Mottram continued searching for their son when after ten days it became clear that the police had no leads and no idea of what might have happened. They did streetwalks, and doorknocks, and distributed photographs and posters. Gradually their search widened, across the state, across the country. They became increasingly desperate. They agreed that Doug would take leave from his practice, indefinitely, but Cathy would keep working. It was the only way they could get the money to finance the enormous expenses they were incurring. They hired a private detective. Doug travelled ceaselessly, investigating reported sightings that came in at regular intervals. Andrew had been seen in a MacDonald's in Williamstown. He'd been spotted hitchhiking on the Lawrance Highway. He was with a man in Semmler. He'd been killed in a road accident in Laing. He was in a youth refuge on the East Side. As far as Doug could ascertain, none of the reports were true. Under the strain of Andrew's disappearance the marriage began to break up. Both Doug and Cathy began drinking too much. They seemed unable to talk to each other about their fears, their grief. They steadily drifted apart. Eventually Doug moved into a small apartment about five kilometres from what had been the family home. About six months after the separation he attempted
suicide, by taking an overdose of sleeping tablets. He was found by his brother, and taken to hospital in good time.

About a year after that Doug was in a small town called St Antony, on the north coast. He was staying with new friends. Jane was an airline hostess. Doug met her on one of his many flights in search of Andrew. On a near-empty plane they had talked. She had taken a sympathetic interest in the father's quest for his son. He had met her again a number of times, and then met her husband, Raffael, a photographer. Now he was staying with them for ä weekend, at their beach house.

On the Saturday evening the three of them were fishing off the beach and made a series of big strikes. Doug, in particular, caught the biggest fish of his life: a beautiful full-bodied bream. Raffael went up to the house to get a camera, then photographed Doug as he proudly held the fish aloft in the dusk.

A week later the photos from Raffael came in Doug's mail. He opened them and looked through them with pleasure: the warm rising of good times remembered. The third and fourth photos were of the fish. There was not much difference between them which was not surprising, as they were taken only a few moments apart. But there was one important difference. The second of the two photos contained an extra person in the background. Peering out from under Doug's outstretched arm, about a metre behind him, was the unmistakeable face of his son, Andrew.

*

JAMES AND ELLIE
had to do the shopping while their mother was in hospital. They enjoyed it, feeling important. They spent all the time in the supermarket alternately arguing and giggling. Ellie wanted Coco Pops but James became sanctimonious and insisted on Weet-Bix. Ellie sulked for a while but cheered up when James agreed that they could each have a bar of chocolate. They got serious as they went through the check-out but then clowned around in the Mall for a while before going out to get a taxi home. Their favourite taxi driver, a big Fijian named Eric, was nowhere to be seen, so they took the first cab on the rank, with a driver who hardly spoke to them.

At home Ellie was getting wheezy and went onto her pump for a while. Watching Ellie's face buried in the mask and the steam made James nervous. He went outside and took a few desultory shots at the hoop with the basketball, interrupting himself only to throw the ball at the cat when it stalked past, tail arrogantly aloft. He mooned about for twenty minutes or so, then wandered back into the house. He found Ellie more settled, and reading. James began to make himself a sandwich.

‘What are you reading?' he demanded.

‘
Unfinished Tales
,' she answered, still focusing on the book.

‘Read me some,' he said.

She now paid him more attention. ‘You want me to read you some?' she asked.

‘Yes,' he said, as he spread marmalade onto the bread.

‘From the start?' she asked, rifling back through the pages.

He knew she loved reading to an audience. ‘No, just anywhere,' he said. ‘Wherever you're up to.'

He sat at the breakfast bar as she started to read. ‘ “They were travelling through Nailwood,” ' she began. She paused a moment to establish her breathing. ‘ “Ahead of them were three riders, but as the road began to twist into the uplands the riders were quickly lost to view. Sidetracks tempted them with soft green turf, but when Naomi tried to edge off onto one of the tracks it writhed and hissed, and the green turned into the mottled brown and yellow back of a serpent. She leapt back quickly onto the main path.”'

‘Holy gooby,' said James. ‘What kind of a book is this?'

‘It's a strange one,' said Ellie. She looked at him steadily, without a smile.

‘It sure is,' said James. ‘I'd like to see them make a movie of it. OK, keep reading.'

‘ “Creepers occasionally scratched lightly past their bodies. Naomi was startled by their teeth, and by their eyes. They had dozens of eyes, of differing sizes, spaced evenly along their length, and when one blinked, they all blinked. Caught in many of their teeth were threads of clothing, strands from earlier travellers.

‘ “The higher the track climbed, the mushier it became. Puddles of mustard-brown water formed in the flatter sections; they sucked and steamed whenever a foot came close to them. At one point the travellers
had to walk through a cloud of insects: big black slow-moving winged creatures the size of small birds. Naomi covered her face grimly and battled on.

‘ “The end came unexpectedly. The track widened onto a pasture. The wind shuddered around the small, rocky expanse and trees teetered at its edges. As they arrived a tree lost its last grip and fell a thousand metres, onto a huge pile of bleached tree bones at the foot of the cliff. So far was its fall that they heard no sound of its impact.

‘ “The further they moved onto the plateau the more they realised that it was eroding constantly. Rocks slipped and tumbled from its sides, trees toppled with ghastly sighs down the cliff faces, powdered earth blew from the rocky surface.

‘ “In the centre of this plain of constant movement was a still eye. Three white gravestones stood there: dull, cracked, worn, but firm and straight. The travellers struggled towards them. The sky moved and groaned. Naomi's face was grey with knowledge. She bent and read the first one, then the second, then the third. She stepped back. ‘What do they say?' her companions asked. ‘I can't tell,' Naomi answered, ‘what they say. The words keep changing. The first one was either. . . I don't know. . . either “Greed” or “Grief”. The second one. . . either “Ignorance” or “Innocence”, and the third one. . . I can't tell. . . perhaps “Hate”. Or perhaps “Hope”.

‘ “The three stood helplessly in the listening air. Minutes passed. Then Naomi noticed a small bush at
the crumbling edge of the plateau. Its small white flowers trembled as the roots of the bush were exposed by the scattering soil and dropping rocks. Naomi ran to it and repacked stones and dirt around it, making the bush secure. At last, having succeeded in her self-appointed task, she stood up. Amazingly, it took her a moment to notice that everything had changed.” '

Ellie seemed to have paused.

‘Everything had changed?' James repeated.

‘That's all there is,' Ellie said.

‘That's all there is?'

‘Yes.' Ellie showed him the blank page in the book. James raised his eyes and corrugated his forehead.

‘What kind of book is that?' he asked again.

‘Well,' Ellie said. ‘It's full of these little stories and they all seem to link together but I'm not sure how, or what they mean. For instance, the one before this was about a city where everybody lives in parks and they go into houses to play. But then people start to demolish the houses. So Naomi and her friends take the timber and plant it in the ground and water it until it grows back into trees.'

‘Gee,' said James. ‘Full of opposites.'

A car came up the driveway and James stood and peered out the window.

‘Dad,' he said. Ellie closed the book and took it to her room. James went into the rumpus room and turned on the TV.

*

FEELING HANDS UNDER
her armpits, hard hands that dug in and poked her, the girl squirmed and opened her eyes. The daylight hurt her eyes so she closed them again. Then the pain of her leg engulfed all other pain: it swept her away on a private river, until she was aware of nothing else.

When next she was conscious of the world she found herself in a bed, a hospital bed, with a nurse standing over her. The nurse was mouthing words. The girl could hear the sound of a voice but could not make out any of the words. With the weight of a hundred years on her eyelids she wearily slipped back into sleep.

JAMES SAT ON
a wall, watching a group of off duty military men. They formed a circle around an area covered with old bricks and building material. Armed with crowbars they were levering rubble away, flushing out the rats who had been harbouring there for many months. From time to time, as a rock was prised away, there was a storm of wild movement: a rat with nose pointed forward and fur flattened dashed through the cordon. About a third of them got away but most were smashed to a halt under the heavy blows of the bars. Some died in a silent thud, some died in a squealing threshing of broken legs and bloody squirming.

James did not know what to think. He hated and feared the rats. Whenever he saw one scurrying around the ground, with its curious mixture of arrogance and
furtiveness, he felt sick, and would shake for a long time. But the wild killing of the creatures frightened him too. They were too big for such slaughter.

Another rat was rolling in the dust while men, with excited cheers, struck it. James ran from the spot. He zigzagged through some tired weedy-looking trees and then made his way among a few older buildings, until he was at Mr Woodforde's lab. The door was closed and barred, with a padlock through the clasp. The padlock was large and looked strong but when James poked at it he saw that it was a trick: the two parts were joined together but not locked. He opened it, took it off, then opened the door and went in.

The room was dull and dusty. Though few of Mr Woodforde's possessions remained, nothing new had been added. The impression was one of emptiness, bareness, and cobwebs. James circled the room gingerly, his heart beating a little faster and a little louder. He ran a finger through dust, liking the line it left but uncertain of how to finish the design he had started.