Thin Blood (14 page)

What she didn’t
tell them about was Narelle’s admission that the gold and sapphire cross found
with the original unidentified skeletal remains could be her sister’s. Nor did
she tell them about Narelle’s fears for her husband’s state of mind, or even
that she was more than likely pregnant with his child. Jacinta didn’t see it as
her place.

Of more import
was Grace’s assertion that she and Kirsty Edmonds had been lovers. True or not,
why had she not mentioned that?

The garage door closed. Taking a
deep breath, Narelle tilted her head back against the headrest and sighed. The
air smelled faintly of concrete and detergent.

She stared
unseeing at the car’s windscreen. Cocooned in the quiet and gloom, she felt
oddly disconnected from the world. Her emotions in limbo, she didn’t know
whether to laugh or cry. Worse still, she didn’t know how Craig would react to
the news of her pregnancy.

She released her
seatbelt, removed the keys from the ignition and gathered up her handbag from
the passenger seat. As she went to open the car door, it was wrenched from her
hands.

“What the fuck
has been going on? Where have you been?” An ugly vein bulged above Craig’s
right eye, his face beyond red. “And don’t lie!”

Narelle shrank
back, her arms protecting her head. He advanced, breathing fumes of soured
whisky into her face. She tried to close the car door, suddenly scared about
what he might do. No contest. He overpowered her easily, grabbing her by the
wrist and yanking her from the car.

Treating her
like a wayward child, he dragged her into the house and down the hall to the
bedroom. She didn’t have the strength to resist. His last shove sent her
flying. Her body curled into a protective ball as she landed on the unmade bed.

She lashed out
with her feet, kicking nothing but air. “Stop!” Bringing her knees up, she
rolled on to her back, shielding her abdomen with her hands as she scooted
backwards. “What the hell has got into you?”

Craig’s chest
heaved, his trembling hand suspended in front of his face. “Oh, Christ, I
didn’t mean it. You know I would never hurt you,” he said, dropping to his
knees beside the bed.

“Stay away from
me!”

He froze, his
unshaven face contorted with bewilderment as he registered her fear. Breathing
hard, she stared into his bloodshot eyes, looking for the man she loved.

“Narelle, I’m so
sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He reached out tentatively, watching
for her reaction. “I love you.”

She hugged her
knees, her body tensing as he touched her bare foot. “I love you, too.” Her
arms tightened around her knees. “But I’m worried sick about what’s happening
to you. I—” She paused, correcting herself. “
We
can’t go on like this.
Bottling it up is doing neither of us any good. Whatever it is, I’m here for
you.” She forced a smile. “After everything we’ve been through, we can’t give
up now, can we?”

His bottom lip
quivered. “Please forgive me. I can’t help myself. I’m just so scared of losing
you. You mean everything to me.” His eyes pleaded with her.

She swallowed hard,
fighting the ball of emotion welling in her chest. With him exposed and
vulnerable like that, she knew she could forgive him almost anything. She loved
him with an intensity she couldn’t explain.

Unlocking her
arms, she slid her left hand down her leg to meet his fingers. “I’m not going
anywhere, but things do have to change.”

His gaze never
left her face as, giving her foot a light squeeze, he moved from kneeling on
the floor to sitting on the edge of the bed. “Anything. Just name it.”

“We need to put
the past behind us, where it belongs. Kirsty is gone and nothing we do will
bring her back. We’ve grieved long enough. Can’t you see that living like
social pariahs is unhealthy? I want us to be a normal family, living normal
lives.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “Especially now…”

“Yes, yes. Any—”

She didn’t let
him finish. “Craig, I’m pregnant,” she blurted.

His face seemed
made of rubber, his initial look of complete incomprehension morphing to one of
excitement and back again. “A baby?”

She nodded, watching
his face, not knowing what to expect. Early on in their relationship, they had
agreed that children weren’t on the agenda. Neither had brought up the subject
since.

“A baby?” he
repeated.

She nodded
again, her lips twitching in a hesitant half-smile.

A broad grin
spread over his face as in one fluid movement, he bounded from the bed, taking
her with him. Holding her close, he danced around the room. Even though his
reaction more than told her he was pleased, she still had to ask.

“Happy?”

Coming to a
standstill, he looked straight into her eyes, his own bloodshot ones sparkling.
“Mrs Edmonds,” he said, the elation in his voice smashing any doubts she might
have had, “you have no idea how much.”

Jacinta took a deep breath and
pushed against The Quadrangle Bar’s huge, barn-like door. As it swung inwards,
she gasped. Flooded with natural light from the vast expanse of skylights high
above, the cavernous space looked large enough to house a Jumbo 747. Until
Daniel had suggested The Quadrangle as a place to meet, she hadn’t known it
existed. Certainly, its nondescript street façade belied what lay inside.

Laughter and
voices, competing with the music for dominance, bounced off the brick and
corrugated iron walls. A young woman wearing bronze dangly earrings that looked
more like wind chimes brushed past in a cloud of perfume. The woman’s glazed
eyes and supercilious grin told Jacinta she had been there for a while.

Then she saw
him, his hand raised in a wave as he picked his way around and through the
parties of people congregated amongst the maze of couches, chairs, low tables
and tall trees.

Her flight
instinct kicked in. She wanted out of there. She should never have come in the
first place. It was all a mistake.

Instead she
froze, her strappy-sandalled feet glued to the bar’s polished concrete floor.
The closer he came, the faster her heart beat. She glanced over her shoulder at
the door, and then back at her advancing stepbrother. He waved again.

Within seconds
he was at her side, propelling her along the route he had just come, one hand
lightly resting in the small of her back. She gritted her teeth, refusing to
let the familiarity and intimacy of his gesture unnerve her. The strained,
high-pitched laugh she heard was her own. Laughing on the outside but screaming
on the inside.

Eventually they
reached a nest of tan leather armchairs, a solid pale-timbered table at its
centre. A white tented ‘Reserved’ sign sat on one corner of the table, along
with what looked to be extensive wine and cocktail lists.

Sinking down
into one of the plush seats, her thoughts inexplicably turned to Brett. She
knew he would have liked the bar, but would he have approved of her meeting
with Daniel on her own? More than likely he would have insisted on accompanying
her. She didn’t want or need him — or anyone else, for that matter — to hold
her hand.

Her reasons for
meeting Daniel were twofold. First, she needed to confront him; she couldn’t
keep hiding forever. Second, he had promised her information that could have some
bearing on the dormant Edmonds case. Even, perhaps, something that could bring
closure for Narelle and the man accused of her older sister’s murder. Perhaps.

Daniel sat down
in the chair directly opposite and picked up the wine list. “What would you like
to drink?” He glanced up, the corner of his mouth lifting in expectancy.

Her lips peeled
back in a half-smile, half-grimace, the sick feeling in her stomach
intensifying. Reminding herself why she was there, she returned his gaze. “A
glass of Chardonnay, please.”

She knew that
anyone watching could be forgiven for mistaking they were on a first date.
Polite small talk. Nervous smiles. Strained body language. Strangers testing
the social waters.

The arrival of
the waiter provided a brief respite. His departure left them with no
distractions.

They both
started speaking at once, desperate to fill the awkward void. Whatever it was
that Daniel was saying she didn’t hear, her own voice drowning out his words.
She stopped, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t. They tried again,
repeating the farce. She might have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so
damned serious.

Finally, she
clamped her lips together and sat back in her chair, resolving to stay mute
until after Daniel had his say.

“Jacinta,” he
sat forward in his seat, “I’m really pleased you decided to come. I wasn’t sure
you would. For years I wondered what became of you and your mother. I hoped you
were somewhere far away, safe and happy.”

She frowned,
wondering where he was taking it.

“I don’t blame
you for hating me, but there’s something you should know.” He cleared his
throat, dropping his gaze to the tabletop. “When I came into your room that
night, it wasn’t to molest you…”

Jacinta couldn’t
breathe, winded by the invisible punch.

“No,” he
continued, looking up, “I wanted to talk to you, convince you it would be
better for you both to leave. I might have been only a kid, but I wasn’t blind.
I loved Dad but I had seen it all before. I saw my own mother treated like a
possession – her every action, her every thought, controlled by my father.
Anyway, when I touched your shoulder to wake you, you sat bolt upright,
screaming your lungs out, your arms going in all directions. At that moment, I
think I was as terrified as you were. I tried to calm you and perhaps – because
I don’t remember this – I accidentally touched you somewhere I shouldn’t have.”

Sucking in
ragged gulps of breath through her gaping mouth, she could do nothing except
sit and stare at him in disbelief.
Accident
? Over and over, she had replayed
every second of that night in her head. From waking with a start, to the touch
of his sweaty hands on her skin, to the smell of his cheesy breath in her face.
The more she thrashed, the more he fought to pin her down. Her shrieks finally
summoned her mother to the rescue, one flick of the light switch turning the
scene to stone. A few long seconds later, Daniel had broken away, mumbling
something unintelligible under his breath as he hurtled past her mother. A door
slammed down the hall. Now he was telling her it had all been some innocent
mistake?

“You have to
understand, I never meant any malice. It all happened so fast that I didn’t
have time to explain. And when you and your mother took off, I truly believed
that it had all worked out for the best. You were out of harm’s way. That’s all
I ever wanted.”

Stunned beyond
belief, she suddenly wondered if it was some elaborate ploy to absolve himself
of any sense of wrongdoing. Fixing him with an icy stare, she said, “If that
was the situation, why didn’t you say so at the time? Or even the next day? You
had plenty of time to put your case then. Why wait all these years?”

He sighed,
averting his eyes for a moment. “I’ve asked myself that question many times,
too. We were just kids. I don’t think anyone at that age really thinks through
all the possible consequences of their actions. In hindsight, I should at least
have tried to explain. But then again, if your mother had known I wasn’t trying
to molest you, would she have whisked you away like that? I doubt it. She
didn’t seem to care what happened to her, but when it affected her daughter,
that was different. Back then, I thought by staying silent I was doing you both
a favour. Now…” his chest heaved. “Now, I realise my actions were probably
wrong. Jacinta, I know it’s a big ask, but I hope in time you’ll find it in you
to forgive me.”

Her body felt
like an overwound spring, ready to snap. Her fingers gripped the chair’s arms
as if they were all that separated her from life and certain death. Her brain
threatened to overheat, the synapses firing in a feverish battle to process
Daniel’s words.

His body
language, the tone of his voice, the pain in those dark eyes all made her want
to believe him. But was he sincere or, like his father, a consummate liar?

Part of her
wanted to scream at him, unleashing years of pent-up anger. For him it may have
happened too fast, but for her it had all been in excruciatingly slow motion.

At fifteen, she
hadn’t stopped to question his motives for being in her room that night. Why should
she have? Good boys didn’t creep into a girl’s bedroom in the dead of night.
Whatever his reasons, her terror had been real. Nor had she imagined his clammy
hands on her skin.

Nevertheless,
was it possible she had misconstrued the whole situation? Adult logic fought
against the petrified teenage girl still deep inside her. The room had been
dark. Too dark to see where he put his hands. He hadn’t physically hurt her.

In that instant,
she hated him even more. His version of events meant the pain and guilt that
had wracked her mother for failing her daughter had all been so needless. Up to
the day she died, her mother had blamed herself.

He shrank back
under her glare. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

The waiter
arrived, becoming an unwitting mediator as he made a show of first presenting
the bottle of wine to Daniel for his inspection and then opening it and pouring
two glasses.

Although the
diversion gave her the perfect opportunity to flee, she chose to stay, using
the brief interval to calm herself. Mentally counting down from one hundred,
she focused on steadying her breathing. As much as she wanted to, she knew
hurling abuse – or even better, the wine – at him wasn’t the answer.