Читать книгу Savage Skies - Graham Guy - Страница 13

Chapter 3

Tanja Polowski disliked her name intensely. Why can’t I be a Mary or a Pauline or a Lorraine and why can’t I be a Smith or a Brown or a Jones like everybody else?

But that was how it was and she knew she’d be stuck with Tanja Polowski until she at least became of age. And that was her dream. To turn eighteen and get as far away as she could from her family and the town in which she lived. The town was in far western New South Wales and she hated it. Shops and offices on each side of the main street. A pub at each end. A couple of service stations, a police and fire station, local park, golf club, football club, a community hospital and an area school.

The local council was a major employer, particularly of men from other countries. It was also accepted as a part of the norm, that if you were a New Australian you worked on the roads with the local council. It mattered little that some of the men employed were highly skilled tradesmen in their European homelands. Such was the case of Tanja’s father.

Back in Poland Angelko Polowski was a fully qualified fitter and turner. When seeking to pursue that activity in the town, the employment office gave him directions to the local council and told him to get on ‘the business end’ of a pick and shovel. And Tanja was to learn at an early age the meaning of prejudice. Like many of the families from European countries she saw first hand that purely by having the name Polowski meant you were a New Australian. It also meant no social status and the only jobs on offer were the ones the locals weren’t interested in. Certainly to have aspirations of joining the golf club, becoming a member of the local council or chairing a local school meeting were nothing but foolhardy.

From those early learnings Tanja decided she would become ‘Paula Harris’ as soon as she could, but far, far away. Her mother, Tessa, also Polish and like other wives and mothers, worked as a cleaner at the hospital. A short, bitter, round faced and stocky woman with blonde curly hair, she had a gruff nature and seldom smiled. Enormously strong for a person of her size, Tessa and Angelko had six children, a year apart from one another. Her first five were boys. Tanja, a ‘mistake’, was the daughter she desperately tried to avoid having.

“Angelko, he want four boys. Then he got five. I tell him to stay away from me. But he no stay away from me. He like a dog. At me, at me, at me,” Tessa was heard telling a co-worker on one of the very rare occasions she spoke to anyone about anything. “Then I get pregnant number six. How we live? How we live I say to him? Get me abortion, we no afford this. But he just cuss, tell me no abortion, get drunk and do to me again. I say No! He force me. Bastard! Even when pregnant, he still come at me like a dog…even when I was eight months. He make me work till eight months.”

When Tanja was born it might have been a blessing in disguise if the child had been stillborn, such was the rejection of her mother. It had taken doctors and nurses three days to convince her to at least put the child to her breast. But there was no bond and never would be. The child was totally resented. Tanja’s early years in the Polowski household bore witness to that. No birthday presents. No hugs, kisses or being pulled up onto her father’s knee for cuddles. No interaction with her brothers. The discipline in the household was ‘stay away from her,’ and they did. Like the runt in a litter of pigs, she was cast aside.

Fed out of obligation, clothed out of duty and sent to school because the Polowskis didn’t want the authorities knocking on their door. By the time Tanja was fourteen she had learned how to adequately care for herself. She went home only because there was nowhere else for her to go. She didn’t have any close friends at school, instead preferring to spend her time reading in the school’s library. World events, different nationalities and other countries fascinated her, along with human relationships, fashion, music, movies and travel. An event she looked forward to each Friday was rummaging through the school’s dump bin for the week’s newspapers that had been cleared from the teachers’ staff room. She’d fill her school bag with the sections she wanted and, once her chores were completed, would spend hours poring through them.

Tanja had become an avid reader and with this increased awareness came a degree of rebellion. Because of her suppressed and neglected childhood, Tanja’s mind was also being forced to mature quicker than most other fourteen-year-olds; and when she kept hearing stories of the happy and loving home environments of her school colleagues she knew there was something drastically wrong with her own. As she headed towards her fifteenth birthday she began to question life and its challenges. The more she read and the more she observed, the more impatient she became to meet ‘Paula Harris’. When she was younger, she thought ‘Paula Harris’ would be ‘born’ when she turned eighteen. With her head now filled with many months of reading and learning from outside the classroom, Tanja decided to spend one more year at home before leaving forever.

I think Paula’s going to arrive a little earlier than expected, she said to herself.

But the boys were different. Along with their father, all four worked on the local council with the youngest, still at school, due for a similar role upon turning sixteen. Never in their lives had any of them ever dared to question or back-answer their father. That was how it was.

The Polowski family home was almost a shanty. A couple of kilometres out of the town, it was formerly a portable classroom made semi-inhabitable. Built of weatherboard with no interior lining, it had a fireplace, a makeshift kitchen and six beds up one end. Old sheets hanging from a strand of wire partitioned off an area that housed the parent’s double bed. The toilet, a long-drop, was twenty-five metres from the house and the bathroom was a floor-less add-on at the rear. Old chairs and sofas made up a centralised lounge area and a black and white television set, with a wire coat hanger for an aerial, the only source of entertainment. Except for Sunday nights. Like it was carved into the ‘Polowski Rule Book of Life’ Sunday night was cards night. Even then, smiles were rare, small talk was guarded and the rigidity of the severe military discipline administered by Angelko held fast. After Tessa made supper at nine o’clock everyone went to bed.

One day Tanja approached her. She had just come inside from chopping firewood to check on the bread she was making. “How come this family never sits down and discusses things?” she asked.

“Because your father takes care of everything,” her mother told her gruffly.

“But at the table, you don’t even talk?”

“It’s not a woman’s place,” her mother spat back.

“But this is home. It’s our home. Why don’t you talk?”

“The men. They talk.” Tessa didn’t want the conversation to continue.

“Well no they don’t. Not really.”

“The boys,” she added bitterly. “If their father wants them to talk, they talk.”

“So what about us? Don’t we count?”

“Our job is to look after the men. Keep them happy and not bring shame on the family.”

“Oh come on mama, we’re not their bloody slaves…”

Tanja’s words were cut short as her mother backhanded her with a flour-covered wooden spoon. Tanja squealed in pain. “One thing I won’t stand for is insolence. Your father. He won’t either. Better you learn that lesson from me rather than him taking to you with his belt buckle.”

Tanja stood in front of her mother too shocked to speak, trying to come to terms with what she had done to her. As the pain of the blow started to come out, the tears flowed and Tanja ran to her bed. Quickly she changed her clothes. As she was about to leave the house her mother came at her like a bullock and blocked her way.

“And where are you going?” she yelled, demanding to know.

“Out!” she hissed, pushing past her.

“It’s dark in two hours, where are you going?”

Tanja looked her mother squarely in the eye. “You know, mama, the other girls in school, they speak so glowingly of their mothers. They hug each other. They touch each other. God knows they even talk to each other. In my nearly fifteen years I don’t remember you ever touching me …you know that? Apart from the beltings, and God knows there’s been plenty of those, you’ve never held my hand or even kissed me. Your mother ever kiss you?” she demanded to know, raising her voice. “Or did she want to abort you just like you wanted to abort me?”

Tessa’s eyes opened like saucers.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, Tessa! Small town. You should be careful who you tell those stories to. Because they tell their daughters and their daughters tell me.”

Tanja even shocked herself with that comment as she had never referred to her mother by her Christian name before.

“I’ve read stories about this sort of crap; the unwanted child and how it’s treated and why. Obviously in just being around I’m the constant reminder of your own mistake! Think about it! Why the hell else would you constantly belt the shit out of me?” Then, sarcastically, “Does it make you feel good to make my legs bleed, Tessa? And how come it’s never in front of the others?”

Tanja could see the anger beginning to build within her mother. Seeing her start to make a move back towards the kitchen table for the wooden spoon, she cut in quickly.

“Oh don’t worry about the spoon, mama. Why don’t you go for broke this time and use this,” she yelled, leaning down to pick up an axe handle resting against the doorframe. She thrust it at her mother. “Where do you want to start? My head? What about my arms? Not many bruises there. Good target! Go on, Tessa, get on with it. JESUS, MAMA! I’M SICK OF YOU TREATING ME LIKE SHIT!”

“That’s because you are SHIT!” her mother replied, flinging the axe handle across the kitchen floor.

Tanja forced a bitter laugh. “So why am I shit? You had me! Obviously I represent everything that’s gone wrong in your sad miserable God forsaken life. Why? You don’t even like me! But how would you know? You’ve never even bothered to sit down and talk to me.”

Tessa Polowski had been confronted by too many home truths to offer any further resistance. She made her way over to the kitchen table. “OK. You go, you bloody bastard bitch! You go to town. Your father. He get home I tell him what you say.” Then with a torturous glee in her voice. “And when you get home he thrash the shit out of you with his belt buckle and I stand and watch. You bloody bitch! Go! Piss off! I hope you never come back.”

“Don’t worry, mama, I’ll be careful not to shame the family,” she replied sarcastically.

Tanja knew there’d be hell to pay when she got home later and she had to face her father, but right now she didn’t care. It was a Saturday and there was sure to be a function at the local football club. She decided that as she was nearly fifteen, it was time to start making her own way, whether her parents liked it or not. She was also very aware that her father would be waiting up for her when she got home and this time she would get the thrashing of her life.

To hell with him, I’m going anyway! she told her herself defiantly.

She set off on a two-kilometre walk arriving in the town just as the local football match ended. She made her way over to the clubrooms and hung out with many others in her own age group until the music started playing around eight pm. It didn’t take long for the celebrations to get loud and raunchy, mainly because the local team had had a victory over a staunch rival for the first time in three years. Tanja was also determined she wouldn’t suffer the ‘non-acceptance’ attitude as had been laid off on so many others she knew. If it meant going out into the cars and drinking with the boys, then she’d do it. If it meant, ‘hey, show us your tits, luv’ then she would, as little as she had to offer. Tanja was determined to be accepted no matter what the cost.

As the night wore on, more and more of the young lads and their girlfriends became intoxicated. More and more, sex became the subject with the girls urging on the boys. If Jacko dropped his trousers, so did Fred. If Sam could hang his T-shirt over his erection, dance around and have it not fall off, then Peter could do it with two T-shirts. But the girls wanted action. So they singled out Tanja and enticed her into the rear of a Holden pan van that had a mattress on the floor. Once inside, four girls pounced upon her, held her down, stripped her naked, forced her legs apart and stuffed her panties into her mouth when she began to scream. Others soon climbed into the back of the van. Amongst much raucous laughter and drunkenness the girls then drew straws to determine which of the boys would mount her first.

Stark terror tore through Tanja’s mind. With her body frozen in fear she couldn’t fully comprehend how her newfound friends could subject her to a situation of such hideous terror. As the first boy climbed on top of her, his girlfriend guided him into her vagina. Then she yelled, “Now push, ya bastard!”

He gave a mighty thrust. It ripped away her virginity to riotous cheers all around. Tanja’s eyes went stark white from shock, pain and terror. She felt her flesh being torn away as though a red-hot poker was being thrust inside of her. The humiliation, the degradation, the pain and the agony didn’t stop until the fourteenth boy pulled up his pants.

After being discarded into nearby bushes, Tanja didn’t know how long she had been there until the chill of the early morning had her rummaging around for the remains of her clothing. Gradually she found enough to cover herself and began to walk home. She was still too terrified to cry but somehow the tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

Sometimes she stumbled and fell, ending up face down in the dirt. She’d pick herself up and somehow take a few more steps. But with each step came increased pain in her legs, stomach and crotch.

From behind, a vehicle approached. It went past her, slowed, stopped then reversed. It was the old neighbour from two kilometres up the road. He took one look at the girl, recognised her, saw the bloodstains and knew exactly the situation.

“Hop in and I’ll drop you off,” he told her.

Quickly he leaned down and threw an old bag onto the seat where she’d be sitting. Slowly she climbed into the cabin of his Ford F100 and closed the door. He didn’t challenge her for conversation. Instead, they rode in silence. At the front gate of the Polowski house he came slowly to a halt and waited for Tanja to leave his vehicle.

Reluctantly, he drove away. A short distance further on, he pulled his vehicle off the road. He leaned over, rolled up the now blood soaked bag where Tanja had been sitting and discarded it into bushes. The old man was visibly shaken from only a glance at how much blood and semen had been oozing from the girl.

* * *

The sun was just above the horizon when Tanja walked inside. All five brothers and her parents, already up and fearing the worst because their sister and daughter had been out all night, took a brief look at her then turned away. Nobody spoke. Tanja stood before them, shaking uncontrollably. Dirt and dust stained tear tracks covered her face. There were still leaves and debris in her hair. Her arms were black and blue from where she had dared to struggle and her legs were bloodstained, filthy and badly bruised. Her clothes, now nothing but torn rags, hung from her body like those on a scarecrow in an orchard. Tanja’s knees began to go weak as she prayed someone, anyone, would say something.

Finally her father did. He approached her with his belt buckle in his hand. Tanja cowered. As he raised his arm preparing to lay into her with his full force, she collapsed onto the floor. Her father then received another view of the blood and the bruises and chose not to go on with it.

“YOU ARE A SLUT!” he screamed at her, as she lay collapsed in an embryonic position. “How will I ever be able to hold my head up in this town again? Or your brothers? You will never leave this house again. You will never sit down with this family again. You will live here but you will live separately. Your brothers will build a separate room outside for you. You will live in there. These are the last words I will ever say to you.”

Tanja, her eyes filled with tears, looked up at her mother. “Mama?”

“You have shamed the family!” she answered bitterly. “Now get into a hot tub and make sure you clean it out when you finish. Others have to use it after you.”

Her brothers, wanting no part of her shame, actually stepped over their sister as they left the house. It took every ounce of energy Tanja could muster to lift herself off the floor and make her way outside to the bathroom. Sobbing hysterically, Tanja filled the bath, scrubbed herself then emptied it. She found scissors and hacked off her hair. Then she bathed again. Using one of her brother’s razors she shaved every inch of her body. Tanja had an overwhelming desire to get rid of every trace, every grain of sand, every touch and every smell she had encountered. Then she bathed again. So degraded and unclean had she been made to feel, she again filled the bath, this time shaving her head and using a hard bristled brush to scrub between her legs. Only when she made herself bleed did she stop.

Through it all, her tears flowed like a river. During the entire cleansing operation not once did her mother go to check on her. When Tanja finally made her way back inside and towards her bed, it was her mother’s acid tongue that greeted her.

“Your brothers. They have your room built by Sunday night. After that there’ll be no need for you to come inside. Don’t use the bathroom at night, use in the day when nobody here. Your meals I put in hatch from kitchen through to your room. You want soap or pads or other things, leave a note and I ask your father. I hope he say piss off.”

“So that’s it?” she asked her mother, still dazed, still in deep shock.

“You shamed the family. You are a brazen hussy. Maybe one day we’ll wake up and you’ll be dead…”

“I WAS RAPED BY FOURTEEN GUYS, MAMA, FOR CHRIST SAKES!”

“If that was true, you would be dead!” her mother said dismissively.

“Jesus, mama! You don’t believe me?”

“I listen no more. Isn’t it enough you shamed the family? Like your father, I got nothing more to say to you either.”

For the next three days Tanja got up only to toilet herself. She lay in her bed in the foetal position and cried and cried and cried. Upon arriving home from work, her father and her brothers spoke little. Her youngest brother, deeply disturbed by what was happening around him, retreated to the point of almost hiding. No one went to her. On the fourth day she managed to get out of bed and dress herself. She warmed some soup that had been left over from the family’s meal the night before and briefly went outside. A few minutes later she returned to her bed. Five days later it was Tanja’s fifteenth birthday. It came and went with not a word being said by her family.

Across town events at the club on the previous Saturday night had spread like wildfire.

“Who was it?” would come a question.

“That little Polowski chick,” would come the answer.

“How many?”

“Fourteen of the pricks.”

“Fourteen! Who?”

And from there the names flowed freely. From then on the Polowskis as a family weren’t seen in the town again. They travelled to another, twenty-five kilometres away for their shopping and supplies. But that town was already abuzz before Angelko and Tessa even decided to go there. Many questioned the whereabouts of Tanja but nobody pursued her sudden disappearance. “Best not to get involved,” summed up the general attitude of the locals. Tessa changed her hours at the hospital so she worked at night, thus avoiding the questions and prying eyes of the people by day. No longer did Angelko and his sons board the council truck at seven o’clock each morning to be taken out to their day’s work. Instead, they took their own vehicle and followed the council truck.

But the stories of the Saturday night gang bang only gained momentum. Rather than take their daughter and sister into the local police station and seek justice, the Polowskis chose to abandon her. Tessa may have escaped the prying eyes and questions in the daytime, but they were still there at night. The town was in turmoil. Gossip raged as fingers pointed to those involved. By Thursday, still no reports had been made and no one had seen Tanja.

The local Senior Constable, aware of the goings-on through hearsay, was hamstrung because Tanja had not come forward. Increasingly frustrated at the on-going build-up of gossip, he drove out to where Angelko and his sons were working. As he pulled up in the police car all the workers on the gang ceased work and moved across to him.

“Angelko about?” he asked casually.

One worker pointed. “Over there. Having smoko with his boys.”

He looked over to where a group of five men were sitting on a log drinking cups of tea. He walked towards them. Following closely behind were all of the road workers.

“Mr Polowski?”

Angelko looked up. There was only slight concern on his face but outright fear on the faces of his sons. “Yes,” he answered.

“Senior Constable McGuiness. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions about your daughter, Tanja?”

“She in trouble?” he muttered, almost inaudibly, showing no signs of emotion.

“Do you know where she is?”

“Home. She was home last night.”

“Did you see her?”

“I didn’t,” Polowski replied, “but they did,” he added, glancing around at his boys.

“These men. They are your sons, Mr Polowski?”

Polowski grunted his reply in the affirmative whilst staring into the bottom of his teacup. Senior Constable McGuiness studied the faces of Polowski’s four sons, seeking confirmation of what their father had told him. They didn’t speak, instead preferring to nod.

“Was she home this morning?”

“Dunno. We all leave before anyone gets up.”

Again the policeman looked at the sons’ faces for confirmation. Again they nodded.

“Mr Polowski, was your daughter home last Saturday night?”

It’s the question the road workers had been waiting to hear. It was the question Angelko Polowski least wanted to hear. He sprung off the log, smashed his cup into the ground and stood toe-to-toe with the policeman.

“Saturday night! Sunday night! Last night! What difference does it make?” he bellowed.

“I keep hearing stories she may have been attacked and badly hurt. The reason I’ve come out to see you is to find out if the stories have any substance to them because she hasn’t been at school and no one has seen her around the town.”

“My daughter is all right!” Polowski barked at the policeman.

“Then you won’t mind if I drop out and see her?”

“Me and the boys will be home at a quarter to six. You can come then.”

Senior Constable McGuiness felt decidedly uneasy in Polowski’s presence. He thought it best to have nothing further to say and returned to his vehicle. As he was about to drive off, one of the sons ran over to him.

“These bastards out here reckon Tanja was raped by fourteen blokes at the club. Is that right?” he asked.

“That’s the story I keep hearing,” the policeman replied. “I’m just trying to find out if it was true…is it?” he asked.

Shock and disbelief fell over across the young man’s face. He didn’t answer. Instead he ran to his father’s side. “Papa, they say fourteen guys raped Tanja. Is that true?”

Polowski just scoffed. “That bloody copper tell you that?”

“No, papa. He said he’s heard that too and just asked the question. All these guys,” he gestured with his hand pointing to the other road workers. “They harass us all week about it.”

“Bullshit! Fourteen guys. Jesus she’d be dead if that happened…”

“But papa…” another cut in.

“Enough! It’s bullshit! And if it’s not bullshit then she had it coming. Get back to work. As soon as this girl leaves, pisses off or whatever, the better. She is nothing but trouble.”

At ten to six that evening Senior Constable Ralph McGuiness arrived at the Polowski house. Tessa Polowski showed him in. Seated at the kitchen table were Angelko, his five sons and Tanja. He ignored everyone except the girl. The table and those seated at it had been arranged so McGuiness would not be able to get a good view of Tanja as she sat at the furthest end.

Her mother had dressed her in a very thick, loose fitting jumper with a roll neck; the sleeves coming down so far they obscured her wrists, hands and fingers. Only her fingertips were exposed. The table’s end made sure she couldn’t be seen from the base of her rib cage, down. A woollen beanie pulled tight over her head covered all but the smallest part of her terrified face that was as white as a sheet. McGuiness could tell the girl didn’t have any hair.

“Hi.” The policeman smiled gently, beaming straight in on her.

Tanja flashed a glance then focussed her gaze back on the table directly in front of her. She didn’t speak.

“Tanja, no one’s seen you around very much, so I’ve come out to see if you’re all right. Are you all right?” the policeman asked.

Complete silence followed the question.

“Tanja?”

Again the girl looked up. This time she nodded. As she did so she looked briefly at her father then back at the table. McGuiness saw it. And it was a look that made his skin crawl. Never in his life had he seen such terror in a young girl’s eyes. But he couldn’t determine whether the terror was ‘father driven’, ‘mother-driven’, ‘family-driven’ or driven by events she had been forbidden to speak about.

“Tanja, are you in any sort of trouble?” the policeman continued.

Without raising her eyes, she shook her head.

“Is there anything you want to tell me about?”

Again she shook her head.

“Were you at home on Saturday night…?”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Angelko Polowski shouted as he bounced to his feet interrupting him. “Can’t you see the girl’s had enough? You wanted to see if she’s all right. OK. Now you’ve seen. She’s all right! Now go!” he demanded, thrusting his hand towards the door.

But Senior Constable McGuiness wouldn’t be bullied. He placed his hands firmly on the table at the opposite end to where Tanja sat. He waited for her to look at him. She did.

“Don’t let these mongrels who did this to you get away with it. Talk to me will you?”

Tessa Polowski flew into a rage. She thundered across the kitchen floor to the front door and reefed it open. “OUT!” she snapped at Senior Constable Ralph McGuiness. “GET OUT. YOU WANT TO TALK TO HER ANY MORE, GET A COURT ORDER. LIKE MY HUSBAND HE SAY, SHE HAD ENOUGH. NOW GO!”

As McGuiness drove away from the Polowski home he was particularly alarmed. Simply from looking at the girl he could tell she had been grossly terrorised and traumatised.

God knows what things must look like under that damned jumper, he thought. But he also knew that unless she came forward and broke her silence he was powerless to act.

But Tanja did not break her silence. The bushfire of rumour was tearing the town apart. Families fought with families. The fourteen involved were fighting amongst themselves, with each either blaming the other or their girlfriends. Officials at the club were clawing at each other’s throats. People stayed away from places of business if ‘so-andso’ worked there.

“He was involved, you know,” would be the whispered accusation.

“But his parents are such lovely people.”

It was also tearing at the hearts and minds of Tanja’s brothers. Especially the youngest. He didn’t understand the jibes and the pushing and shoving he got in the schoolyard, the silence of his other brothers and the ‘don’t talk to her’ orders from his parents. But all the boys were so petrified of their father they were powerless to act, even to the point of speaking with their sister. To do so would have brought an enraged and extremely violent Angelko Polowski down on their heads.

By the Sunday night Tanja’s brothers had erected a timber add-on to the mainframe of the house. A plastic sheet covered the space left for the window. A few timber off-cuts thrown together made for a bed and loose boards spread across the floor provided the only insulation from the ground. True to her mother’s word, a hole had been cut through the wall into the kitchen so Tanja’s meals could be pushed through to her. Her blankets were threadbare throwaways and of little use. There was no heating. Even the door, held to the frame by two small hinges, had substantial gaps, both at the top and at the bottom.

It was cold, damp, dark and terrifying.

* * *

A week after the rape, Tanja was still highly stressed and in deep shock. She was also in great pain from the damage caused to her internally. She also knew she needed to see a doctor, maybe even spend time in hospital. But most of all she knew she had to get out. But where? The family had no known relatives in Australia. She was too terrified to go back into the town. She couldn’t go to the hospital because her mother worked there. Tanja was desperate.

She could feel her strength sapping and she knew she was becoming very pale. She had no money. No clothes. No transport. But somehow she knew she had to find a way out or she would die. Panic gripped her, but she had read enough and learned enough to know that she must try and stay calm at all costs.

She had a thought. She knew that within any ethnic family there was more often than not, a ‘stash’, an amount of money hidden away in case of dire emergency. She had no idea if her parents had one. She was betting they did. Either way, she gave herself three days. After that, come what may, she’d be gone. Even if it was only up the road to the neighbour’s house, the old guy who had picked her up the morning after her ordeal and give her a lift home.

The next day, after making sure everyone had left and her mother had gone to sleep after working the night shift, she sneaked into the house and decided to search. Not knowing where to start, she sat and thought about it. She looked at her surroundings and could see no obvious or even hidden starting point. As she cast over her mother’s cooking utensils she did see something a little odd. She noticed there were two rolling pins. One had green handles, the other red.

I’ve never seen her use the red one, she pondered, moving silently across to pick it up.

She thought it felt a bit light. Then she picked up the other to compare. Indeed it was decidedly lighter. Careful not to make the slightest sound she tried each red handle to see if it unscrewed. One of them did. A wave of excitement swept through her when she discovered the body of the rolling-pin crammed full of money. Tanja’s heart was pounding in her eardrums and she tried not to panic. Carefully she took the money and counted it, keeping an eye on her mother as she did so. There was more than $500. Tanja took it, screwed the handle back on, replaced the pin and sneaked out of the house.

Not too smart mama…and I’m not even a damn burglar! she thought, very pleased with her efforts.

Immediately she knew she had to get out, and now. Once her mother discovered her money was missing there would be hell to pay. Tanja decided to go right away. Rolling what pathetic belongings she had into a blanket, she quickly located one of her brother’s football socks. She carefully laid the money flat, slid it into the sock then tied the sock round her waist. As she looked down at herself she noticed she had again started to bleed. Tanja cussed. Now being driven even more urgently out of the fear her mother may wake up, she quickly checked outside. Satisfied there was no one around she made a dash to freedom.

Her spur-of-the-moment decision was to try to get to the neighbour’s place about two kilometres away. Thick bush ran along both sides of the road. Tanja was grateful for that, as it provided her with cover should a vehicle approach from either direction. When she was far enough away and her home was only a speck in the distance, she stopped to catch her breath.

She knew panic had been driving her but she also knew she was in deep trouble. The bleeding had become heavy and she felt decidedly weak. She strained her eyes to look ahead. She could barely make out the neighbour’s place. She continued on. Each step feeling like ten. She’d feel faint, then she’d be all right. She’d stop, then get going again, all the time checking behind that her mother wasn’t charging after her.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity she found herself at the back door of the house. She attempted to knock.

“Sounds like someone at the door,” she heard the old man call to his wife. He opened the door and saw Tanja, half-collapsed. He quickly stepped outside the door and knelt down to her.

“Wh…what?” Then he yelled inside to his wife. “It’s the young girl I was telling you about. The Polowski girl. Oh my God, look at her!”

Tanja could barely speak. “Please…don’t tell my parents I’m here. Can you get me to a doctor, but…not here. My mother works at the hospital and…wants me dead. I’ve been trying till now to get away. Will you hee…”

He gathered the young girl in his arms and took her inside, saying to his wife, “Get me something to put under her, there’s blood everywhere.”

Then her vision blurred, her hearing went deaf and she blacked out.