Mctavish And Twins

‘I’m Laura McTavish,’ the little girl said at last. ‘And this is my brother, Matthew.’ She paused and then childish curiosity surfaced. ‘The way you talk sounds funny...’

Laura and Matthew McTavish...

McTavish.

Erin’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. Good grief! Was this some crazy coincidence?

Erin had come halfway across the world to see her grandfather, swearing all the way that she didn’t have to see Mike McTavish. Australia was a big place and she hadn’t seen Mike McTavish for ten years—not since her last visit to Australia when she had been fourteen. She didn’t have to ask about him or have any interest in him in any way, shape or form, she’d decided. For heaven’s sake, Mike McTavish was probably married with six kids by now.

Maybe these were two of the brood!

Mike would be about thirty by now, Erin thought He was certainly old enough to be a father. He’d been twenty when she’d seen him last, when fourteen-year-old Erin had suffered her first and only case of puppy love.

Unfortunately the puppy love had never quite faded.

Which was ridiculous, she told herself savagely. Her teenage crush had been totally one-sided. Erin doubted Mike McTavish even knew she existed, then or now.

Well... Erin shook away bitter-sweet memories with a fierce shrug. Erin’s teenage crush on Mike McTavish was history. She forced all her attention back on the twins.

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Matthew and Laura McTavish,’ she said slowly, looking from one child to the other, and trying not to search for a resemblance to a ten-year-old memory. ‘And I don’t have a funny accent, thank you very much. I’ve come all the way from the United States of America to visit my grandpa, and every person I’ve met in this country talks funny. It’s not me. It’s you.’

Erin held out her hand to be shaken. The twins were looking at Erin as if she were something newly arrived from another planet. An American, their look said. Good grief!

Laura was game, though. After only a moment’s hesitation the little girl solemnly took Erin’s hand and shook.

Not so her brother. One of Matthew’s hands gripped his sister so hard it must have hurt, and the other hand was attached to a thumb being sucked like grim death. Erin smiled down at him and let her hand fall. She mustn’t push too hard.

‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ Erin asked. She looked doubtfully down at their suitcase. ‘It seems a very heavy load. Where are you headed?’

‘No, thank you.’ Laura bit her lip. ‘We’re going to Sydney.’

‘I... I see...’ Erin swallowed. She frowned. ‘Laura, are you and Matthew planning to walk all the way to Sydney?’

‘Yes.’ Laura’s voice struggled to sound defiant, but it wobbled dangerously.

‘But, sweetheart, it will take you a month or more to walk that far.’

Something suspiciously like a sob broke from the little boy at Laura’s side, and the little girl gulped. Her face lost its colour.

‘We can do it,’ she whispered. ‘We...we have to. We’re going home.’

‘To your mom and dad?’

It was a guess, and the guess hurt. Erin had assumed the children must be holidaying here, but Laura tilted her chin and her face grew even more pale.

‘Our mum and dad are dead. They were killed in a car accident.’ There was no disguising the wobble in Laura’s voice now. ‘We’re supposed to be living with Uncle Mike, but...but we don’t like it and we’re going home.’

Uncle Mike. Not these children’s father then. Their uncle.

‘To Sydney?’ Erin murmured.

‘Yes.’

‘But... Are there different people living in your house in Sydney?’ Erin queried softly, and watched the pain grow worse on both their faces.

‘Yes,’ Laura quavered. ‘Uncle Mike says so. He says he’s really sorry but our house had to be sold to someone we don’t know and we can’t go back there.’ A defiant shake of her head. ‘But it’s our house. It’s my bedroom. Matthew’s got his own room too, and Daddy painted a yellow strip for him all the way round the ceiling just ’cos he liked it. If we go there...I mean, if we’re good...they’ll have to let us stay, won’t they?’

‘Honey, I don’t think they will,’ Erin said gently. ‘Laura, no matter how much they might want you to stay, the new adults in your Sydney house will send you straight back to your uncle Mike. They don’t have a choice, Laura. It’s the law.’

‘No.’

There was no point in dissembling. ‘Yes,’ Erin told her. She produced a tissue and gently dried two large tears welling from Laura’s fearful eyes. ‘Laura, is your Uncle Mike really so bad you can’t stay with him?’

Erin thought back to memories of Mike McTavish from ten years ago. The man was impossibly handsome—reason enough for a fourteen-year-old to fall in love—but he was also kind and gentle and laughing. At twenty he’d treated life as a joke, but when Erin’s grandfather had persuaded her to attend a local party Mike McTavish had seen a strange kid’s loneliness and had come across and asked her to dance.

With the older and prettier local girls so eager for his attention, that dance had been an act of pure kindness. The resultant misery it had caused by tumbling Erin head over heel in love with him was not Mike’s fault.

So... Could Mike McTavish have changed so much? Erin wondered. The Mike McTavish Erin remembered would not—could not—treat these children with cruelty.

‘He is bad!’ Laura said fiercely, seeing Erin’s look of doubt. ‘He is. He beats us and he doesn’t feed us except on chook food and he makes us work and work...’

‘I see.’ This was going from unlikely to impossible. The corners of Erin’s mouth twitched. ‘Laura...’

‘Y...yes?’

‘Does your uncle Mike really beat you?’

Laura tried to glare but it didn’t quite come off. Finally the little girl bit her lip and looked away.

Then, for the first time, Matthew spoke.

‘Something worse,’ the little boy whispered, hauling his thumb from his mouth. He stared at Erin as if he really needed her to understand.

‘What?’ The urge to gather this white-faced child in her arms and hold him close was almost overpowering but Erin fought it back.

‘Aunt Caroline cut Laura’s hair last night,’ Matthew managed, in a choked voice that was more agonized than Laura’s wildly accusing tone. ‘And Uncle Mike let her.’

Silence.

Erin looked at Laura’s beautifully cut bob. The little girl had fine blonde hair, gently waving. It was neat and clean and really short.

‘Your uncle cut Laura’s hair?’

‘Aunt Caroline did,’ Matthew whispered. The little boy looked at his sister’s closely cropped curls with an expression of horror. ‘Laura’s hair was so long Daddy used to call it her mane. Mummy sat on Laura’s bed every night and told us stories while she brushed Laura’s hair. She said, “Always wear your hair long, Laura, because it’s your crowning glory”. And Aunt Caroline cut it and Uncle Mike says, “What’s done’s done.” Now Aunt Caroline says it has to stay short all the time because it’s ridiculous to keep it long. So...so we have to go... We have to go away.’

Erin flinched.

There was so much pain in the little boy’s voice that Erin wanted to weep. A dull red rage was building inside her as she fought to find some way to respond. Of all the stupid, insensitive acts. Mike McTavish and the unknown, horrible Aunt Caroline had a lot to answer for. And Erin was darned if she’d defend adults who’d do such a thing.