Nobody Knows - Rebecca Barber

Nobody Knows Rebecca Barber

Nobody Knows Copyright © 2015 by Rebecca Barber. All rights reserved. First Print Edition: March 2016

Limitless Publishing, LLC Kailua, HI 96734 www.limitlesspublishing.com Formatting: Limitless Publishing ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-518-6

ISBN-10: 1-68058-518-5 No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely

coincidental.

Dedication To women everywhere, and one in particular. You are stronger than you believe!

Table of Contents Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty

Prologue Gillian The scowl on his leathery face should have been enough warning to shut me up, but tonight I wasn’t in the mood to back

down. I was ready for a fight. Whatever he dished out would come back at him twofold. He came through the door, ripping it almost off its hinges and letting it slam behind him. He took one look at me, sitting on the lounge quietly watching television and sipping my coffee, and rolled his eyes in disgust. I didn’t say a word. This was the game we played these days. After more than a decade of marriage, this is all we had left. “What’s for dinner?” he snarled, his eyes filled with hatred and disgust. I just shrugged apathetically. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi honey, how was your day? You look tired. Why don’t I just whip you up a nice, juicy T-bone

steak and fresh steamed veggies?’ The truth was, I would probably be having home-brand crackers with what was left of the vegemite. “Not sure. We don’t have much,” I admitted, instantly feeling ashamed. I hated the fact he could make me cower like that. Once upon a time, in another lifetime far away from this one, I felt different. I felt worthwhile and even happy. We were happy at one point, weren’t we? Somewhere along the line, I must have loved him. Otherwise I wouldn’t have married him. I can’t be that stupid, can I? “For God’s sake, didn’t you even bother to do the shopping?” he snarled from the kitchen.

I heard him muttering to himself as he shuffled the near-empty boxes about in the pantry. Much as I hate to admit it, the profanity spraying from his lips was mighty impressive. Stomping back into the lounge, he planted himself deliberately in front of the television, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. Knowing what was coming, I was glad the kids were out with their godmother Heidi tonight. That was the only positive in this nightmare. “For fuck’s sake, Gillian. I give you money. What the fucking hell do you spend it on?” he demanded, tiny bits of spittle flying from his mouth. We had danced around this confrontation for weeks now. The

tension was escalating, as was the hatred buried inside me. I don’t remember the last time I had actually had a full night’s sleep. These days, I was too angry to sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, all I could do was imagine all the things that I wanted to do and say to him, but was too afraid to. My life had somehow crumpled into a pathetic mess, and most of the time I hated myself for it. I was furious, and the more I saw of him, the more he continued to be the heartless barbaric bastard he had become, the worse things got, and the more I despised myself. “Do you really want to know how fucking far your measly twenty bucks stretches these days?” I asked, keeping

my face as blank as possible. He raised a quizzical eyebrow and folded his arms aggressively across his puffed out chest. I took a deep breath, grabbed hold of the arms of my chair with both hands, and squeezed as hard as I could. When I looked down, my knuckles were white with the strain and I could hear myself grinding my teeth desperately, trying to control the rage inside me. “Well?” he snapped, shifting his weight impatiently from one foot to another. I exhaled heavily. “If you really want to know what happened to that twenty you gave me a week ago for food and to keep the house running, it bought a sixpack of home brand toilet paper, a loaf

of bread, a carton of milk, vegemite, eggs, and a packet of tampons for your daughter!” I told him, ticking the items off my fingers as I announced them. I could see the fury bubbling up inside of him. His eyes were squinting, his face slowly turning beetroot red, sweat beads gathering on his dirty, unshaven lip. “Where…the…fuck… did…you…put…the…rest…of…it?” he growled, taking an exaggerated breath between each word. I don’t know if that made him feel more important or if he just couldn’t string a sentence together like a normal person. I looked at him with disgust. He was one of the ugliest people I had ever seen. But I still didn’t know if I found

him so repulsive because of how he looked or because I had seen the real Joel. I had seen his dark side, and it was obnoxious. For a long moment I just stared at the monster that in a past life had been my loving, adoring, and attentive husband. I didn’t even recognize him anymore. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the dimple on his left cheek. The dimple I had once found irresistible now made me violently ill. Fighting the urge to tell him the exact thoughts that were jumping about my mind, trying to force me to let them out, I swallowed deeply and took a breath. “What do you mean ‘the rest’? I already had to add more of my money just to

cover that.” I’m not exactly sure what he muttered under his breath next, and to be honest I don’t really care. He might have been angry, but he could never feel as degraded and dehumanized as I did. I guess he realized he wasn’t going to get very far tonight. And he most certainly wasn’t going to get fed, so he stalked off, kicking dramatically at magazines that lay thrown in a heap on the floor at the other end of the lounge. Just before the familiar slam of his bedroom door, I heard his usual derogatory comments. “Fuck, it would be a shame if you got off your fat ass once in a while and cleaned this house up. It’s worse than living in a dump!”

The bang of his door shook the walls and the windows, and with that he was gone for the night. Knowing I wouldn’t have to see him again tonight—because there was no way he would come out of the bedroom unless I was unlucky enough to have to use the bathroom at the same time he did —I knew I was safe, and so I let it rip. All the rage and pure hatred that was eating away at my insides came out in a garbled mess as I spat ferociously under my breath. Feeling relieved after my silent vent, my fingers trembled and my heart beat so hard in my chest that I could feel the pulsation in my toes. I got up and rummaged through my battered fake

leather handbag, a Mother’s Day gift from happier times, and found my saving grace—my trusty pack of Marlboros. Silently I shuffled to the back door, pushing the cat away with my heel, and slunk down on the cold, hard concrete steps. Sucking in the smoke I felt the tension seep away instantly. It was cool outside. The swirling breeze tossed the first autumn leaves about playfully. It was still light. Daylight savings had not yet ended, but the scorching summer weather had already moved on. I sat on the step for a long time, concentrating on my breathing. I could hear children nearby laughing and running, and every so often the

unexpected short sharp burst of crocodile tears. I’m not sure what it was that eventually calmed me, whether it was the laughter I could hear, the smell of sausages being barbequed nearby, or the playful way the leaves danced on the wind. Maybe it was just the strong smooth flavor of the nicotine as it filled my body. Whatever it was, after those forty-five minutes, I felt more at ease, like no matter how hard things got, no matter how hard he pushed, I couldn’t let him win. He had abused me and broken my spirit but he would never beat me. I was not going to let him manipulate me like I was some pathetic puppet. I deserved better than that. And I was

damn well going to get it.

Chapter One The day I turned twenty my life stopped. Okay, that’s probably being a tad dramatic, but my life as I knew it definitely came to a screeching halt. I held the white plastic stick in my

trembling hands and stared at the double blue lines in horror. How could I possibly have been so stupid? The test must be faulty. I rifled through my oversized handbag and found the second test I had purchased just in case. Running towards the bathroom with the pink box in my hands, I prayed furiously for a different result. I couldn’t be pregnant right now. When the timer on the oven pinged, I sat bolt upright. The mandatory five minutes had passed and the results would now be in. I sat there and stared at my hands, feverishly picking at the skin around my nails before moving on and sticking my finger in my mouth, chewing at my nails until they bled.

I knew I had to be the one to check it. There was no one else there. I walked, slowly, like a condemned woman, step by step down the long hallway, which in all honesty was only about five meters. Pushing the bathroom door open, I saw the second test, lying on the bathroom counter where I left it. Grabbing the door frame for stability, I couldn’t see the results from there. I knew I was pregnant. I could feel the dread, and my stomach flipped over nervously, cramping my insides. “Just do it,” I spat. I had to just bite the bullet and get it over with. Get the results, and then figure out what the hell I was supposed to do from there. With no more hesitations, I walked

deliberately to the counter and picked up the test and examined it. Seeing the double blue line for the second time was like a kick in the stomach. I let out a pained gasp, not realizing I had been holding my breath. There it was, right in front of my eyes—two telling blue lines. “Happy bloody birthday,” I said to myself. I wandered back to the kitchen aimlessly, not thinking clearly. I pulled the half open bottle of Cloudy Bay from the fridge and filled my favorite wine glass. Sitting it on the counter, I lifted it to my lips before I realized I couldn’t drink anymore. I was pregnant. Sliding down the kitchen cupboard, I sat on the floor and wept. I cried for a long time,

ignoring the phone on the wall above my head as it rang continuously. An hour and a half later, my bum numb from the cold tiles, I managed to pull myself to my feet and stumble into the lounge. As I passed the mirror in the hall, I didn’t even recognize the woman staring back at me. My shoulder length brown hair was matted and unkempt. My red-rimmed eyes were barely visible above the puffy black circles. My shoulders hunched forward in defeat. Barely able to look, I threw myself on the lounge and resumed my selfish sobbing. For a long time I just sat there staring into outer space before the realization returned and I started to weep again. My

mobile phone on the coffee table in front of me continued to beep and buzz as text messages came though. I didn’t want to look at them. They would all be saying the same thing anyway —Congratulations! Happy Birthday! But I had nothing to celebrate. I even forgot about the group of loyal girlfriends who were no doubt already around our favorite table on the balcony. I knew they would be pissed at me, but they would understand. Eventually. I guess I was exhausted from the overwhelming emotions consuming me, because at some point I fell into a fitful sleep on the lounge. When the doorbell buzzed, I jumped up in a panic. Bouncing towards the door, I rubbed away the

drool that had collected in the corners of my mouth and the sleep from my eyes. “Oh good, you look like shit. What the hell happened to you tonight?” Rhiannon asked, pushing past me into the lounge room. “We waited for you for ages, and you just didn’t show—that’s so unlike you, Gillian,” Cora snarled, letting herself in. When I saw the look of pure disappointment written all over Heidi’s face, I knew I was in trouble. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer. Are you okay?” she whispered, her tone full of concern. “Come in, its cold outside,” I invited, pulling Heidi through the door and closing it firmly behind her. With the

four of us in my tiny two-bedroom shoe box, I felt claustrophobic. I had this huge secret weighing me down and, sitting on my sofa, furious with me, were my people. “I’ll just put the kettle on,” I called out, avoiding going into the lounge room to face the music. In all honesty I didn’t want to face them tonight. I wanted to remain in my oblivious and delusional bubble for a while longer, but it wasn’t to be. They were here, and they were my best friends. I couldn’t lie to them, not when it was a secret I couldn’t hide from them forever. In a couple of months the truth would be out anyway. “Need a hand?” Heidi called out. “No, I’m fine. Won’t be a moment,” I

faked, taking the opportunity to splash cold water on my face. I grabbed the biscuit tin and shook out the last of the Tim-Tams onto a plate before adding some of the homemade orange truffles from the fridge. When I walked into the lounge moments later, carrying the tray laden with coffees and chocolates, three sets of questioning eyes turned and looked at me. I could hear the breathing, almost in unison, and I could feel my own heart beating in my chest, about to break through my ribcage. Putting the tray on the coffee table, I self-consciously rubbed at my stomach. “Well?” Rhiannon snarled angrily. “Rhiannon, calm down. Give her a

chance to explain why she stood us up on her own birthday. It’s not like we all got dressed up on a freezing cold Saturday night in the middle of the Canberra winter to sit outside and have dinner,” Cora began. Her eyes were shooting daggers at me. I wanted to crawl into my warm bed, hide under the covers, and pretend none of this was happening. Swallowing my tea and my pride in the same mouthful, I apologized. “I’m really sorry I didn’t make it tonight, something just kinda came up,” I whined pathetically. I knew it wasn’t even a poor excuse, it was just a question dodge, but I hoped that would placate them for now.

Heidi smiled at me, but I knew it was false; her eyes still radiated disappointment. “It’s okay, sweetie, we understand.” She reached out and took my hand, making me feel even worse. Overwhelmed by guilt, tears silently trickled from my eyes. I looked over at Rhiannon and saw the fury on her face. “Let me just recap here, so we are all on the same page. It’s your birthday. You wanted to go to dinner. You specifically said you wanted a table on the balcony. You picked a Saturday night. So we all get dressed and show up, but you never made it. And the only reason you will give us is ‘something came up.’ Would that be a correct assumption?” Rhiannon

exploded. I just nodded weakly, breaking into tears. “What the hell is going on, Gillian?” “Rhiannon!” Heidi chided her, but Rhiannon paid no attention. She sat back, folded her arms across her ample chest, and waited for an explanation. No one said anything for a long time, but I watched helplessly as their eyes scoured the room. I knew this wasn’t something new to them. They’d been through this with me before, but I kept going back for more. Rubbing at my stomach, I thought about my son or daughter for the first time. Although I wasn’t ready to be a mother and I was terrified of doing it alone, I had to think of my child as a person, not just a

mistake. “I’m pregnant,” I blurted out. I looked at my friends’ faces and saw them change as the words sunk in. Cora got up and grabbed three wine glasses from the cabinet and filled them. Heidi emptied hers in one long pull, while Rhiannon sipped hers quietly, her eyes never leaving mine. “But…how? When? What?” Rhiannon mumbled, still obviously in shock. “When did you find out?” Heidi added, spluttering. “Just breathe,” I repeated to myself over and over. Once I had said the words out loud, everything became real. Seeing the reaction on my best friends’ faces, the looks of pure panic and the

exchange of glances of fear, made me glad that I wouldn’t have to tell my parents about my latest mistake. When they had died barely eight months earlier I was devastated. I knew travelling overseas was dangerous, but I never thought anything would happen to them. They had developed a travel bug after spending twelve months living in the Middle East while working as consultants. On their way home after the contract ended they went via Africa for a holiday. When they came home it quickly became apparent that they had picked up a virus during their travels. Even the miracles of modern medicine couldn’t save them. Dad died four days after Mum. Within a week I lost all the family

I had. Malaria had claimed their lives. “When did you find out?” Cora repeated slowly, after I didn’t answer. Rubbing my face violently with my hand, I looked at the three most important people in my world. Moments earlier they had been ready to tear me apart, but now the rage and anger were gone, replaced with compassion and concern. “I took the test about three hours ago,” I admitted sheepishly. “I was a week late so I bought a test today. I never even imagined it would come back positive but hey, what do you know. Double blue lines and I’m going to be a mum.” I smiled weakly. I’d always wanted kids, but right now was not the time. I was twenty years old,

completely alone in the world and as lost and confused as I could possibly be. “So you have only done the home test?” Rhiannon asked. When I nodded, a relieved smile covered her face. “That doesn’t mean anything.” She laughed, waving her hands about animatedly. “They are notorious for being wrong.” “Yeah?” “Absolutely. You can’t turn your life upside down over a stupid supermarket pregnancy test. Okay, I’ll admit it gave us all a scare, but you need to go to the doctor and find out what’s what,” Rhiannon announced, taking complete control of the situation. Breathing a sigh of relief, I convinced myself that Rhiannon was right. Until the

doctors said so, or at the very least, the nurse, I wasn’t pregnant, and nothing would change. “I’ll go Monday morning and then this can all be sorted out. One way or the other,” I proclaimed as hopefully as I could manage. Heidi tried to smile through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. I could see that she had something to say but wasn’t convinced it was something that I actually wanted to hear. Then she asked the one question I really didn’t want to answer—“What are you going to do if you are?” Shaking my head, I couldn’t answer. I just shrugged my shoulders pitifully. And that was the truth. I had no idea what I was going to do, or how I was going to

do it. I hadn’t got that far along with my thinking. I was still in the freaking out stage. “Well…” Cora smiled, sliding onto the sofa next to me and taking my hand in hers, “…whatever you decide to do, we will be here for you. Won’t we, ladies?” Heidi and Rhiannon rushed to agree, but something was still slightly off. Heidi was still thinking too much and too hard. “What is it, Heidi?” I asked anxiously. Glancing around the room, Heidi noticed that everyone was staring at her, waiting with baited breath for her to say something. “No, it’s nothing.” She waved her arms in dismissal. “You are such a bad liar.” Cora

giggled, watching as Heidi squirmed in her seat. “Just say it, we’re all friends here.” Gulping timidly, Heidi opened her mouth and said something, but no one heard her words. They came out as a meek little whisper. “Speak up,” Rhiannon instructed. With beads of sweat dotting her top lip, Heidi tried again. “I don’t mean this the way it’s going to sound, Gillian, but who is the father?”

Chapter Two After the death of my parents I had to get out of the small, suffocating town I had grown up in. It was too hard with them gone. Every time I walked along the beaches or ducked down to the local

shops someone would ask how I was doing, or express their condolences or tell me they knew exactly how I was feeling. It pissed me off to no end. How could anyone possibly imagine what I was going through? I was nineteen and completely alone. Well, that’s not entirely true; I wasn’t completely alone, and I had a whole tonne of responsibility to keep me company. My parents had been school teachers at two of the local schools, which meant everyone within a fifty kilometer radius knew them. Some loved them, some loathed them, but everyone knew them. At the time they died, they owned quite a few properties, mainly in Canberra. They owned the home they lived in, only

a hundred meters from the beach, two units, and a house in Canberra. I remembered sitting in the dreary solicitors’ office on a particularly lovely afternoon. The sun was shining, the water was warm and inviting and because it wasn’t a weekend the locusts of Canberra had not taken over the beach, so it was mainly deserted. It was exactly ten days since the funeral. I had put it off that long but it was something that had to be faced. I had hoped facing it would make everything hurry up so I could get back to a normal life. A smelly old man stumbled into the conference room carrying three large manila folders held together with rubber

bands. I hoped that I didn’t have to go over every piece of paper in them. Without realizing, I was staring directly at the dirty great wart on the bottom of one of his chins, which was surrounded by what could only be described as a forest of thick grey hair. One of the teachers who had worked for my father, a lovely old lady with a heavy English accent and too many wrinkles to count, had taken to dropping off salads and casseroles with me daily. She often stayed and we had superficial conversations about the weather and the local town gossip. But the day before I had been requested to meet with the solicitor she sat down, had a cup of chamomile tea, and explained what

would probably happen. They would read the will, I would sign a few papers, and that would be that. I prayed she was right. “Ms. Dempsey,” he announced, panting. The beads of sweat congregating on his forehead captured my attention. He was sweating and panting as if he had just run a marathon. I noticed the wet patch on his white shirt with a slightly reddish tinge on his bulging belly. The only marathon this guy had run was from the lunch room to the conference room. “I’m Mr. Sanders, but you can call me Jack.” He took my hand and shook it forcefully. “Hi,” I murmured, wiping my damp hands on my shorts under the table.

“I’m very sorry to hear about your parents. They were great people,” he began. I held up my hand in a mock salute. “I’m sorry if this is rude, but can we just skip all this crap? I mean, if we could just get this done as quickly as possible, that would be great.” I felt mean and bitchy but I was exhausted with the fake pleasantries. “As you wish.” He smiled as he attempted to open the first file. I couldn’t help but laugh as he tried to remove the rubber band and it broke, flicking up and hitting him on one of his chins. As soon as the giggle passed over my lips, I felt guilty. My parents were barely cold in the ground and here I was

laughing. It was wrong. A skinny redhead in an overly short, tight black skirt slipped in the door. “I’m Angela.” She smiled seductively. I don’t think she knew how to smile any other way. “I’m just here as a witness to record everything that goes on. Feel free to ask any questions or ignore me as necessary.” For the next twenty minutes, Mr. Sanders explained to me in legal speak what was happening and what he read. I didn’t understand a word of it. “Now, if you are happy with everything that I have just said, I just need you to sign a few papers and I can let you get back to your day.” “Okay.” I shrugged.

“Sorry, Jack,” Angela said, sliding forward on her chair, puffing out her chest. “Gillian, did you understand any of what Jack just told you?” she asked. I found myself realizing that maybe I had judged her too quickly. She had obviously caught the glazed-over look in my eyes and the absent-minded nodding in agreement with everything Jack had said. “Not really,” I answered honestly. I saw the look exchanged between Angela and Jack, but neither said a word. For a long time they just stared at each other, eyes fixed, neither blinked. Then Jack waved his hand in a mock invitation, and Angela turned back to me. “Basically, Gillian, your parents have

left everything to you. The life insurance, the superannuation fund, and the properties. However, they have designated that the sum of one hundred thousand dollars be donated to Palliative Care Australia. Their wills stipulate this and leave no room for argument or negotiation,” Angela summarized, staring directly at me. “Do you have any questions?” “No,” I mumbled. Even though it had all been explained, I didn’t really comprehend what they were saying. I had no idea how much money we were actually talking about, and I had no idea whatsoever as to what I was supposed to do next. “If you’re sure,” Angela invited,

swinging her chair around and sitting next to me. “We just need to sign some papers and everything will be transferred to your name. Have you given any thoughts to what you might do with the property portfolio?” she enquired. Although it seemed casual enough, when she reached her manicured, bright red nails out and took hold of my wrist I felt cornered and I didn’t like it. As forcefully and maturely as I could, I straightened myself in the chair, and spoke in my clearest voice. “Not as yet. I haven’t been given the opportunity to consider my options or consult independent advice. Now, which papers do I need to sign?”

Slightly taken back by my rebuff, Angela removed her hand from my wrist and flicked to the first page for me to sign. After the meeting I was an emotional wreck. I had so many thoughts screaming around inside my head, and none of them were answers. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to do everything on my own? How did I survive this? I checked my email and my Facebook page and it was just more of the same—messages from family and friends, offering their condolences or advice. It was all too much. Slamming the computer shut made the flimsy plastic hinges holding the screen on snap off. That was the last straw. I picked up

the laptop and threw it as hard as I could against the wall, watching as it smashed and left its mark on the pristine white paint. I knocked over a vase, staring blankly as the water seeped into the carpet. I slid down the wall and cried. It was all that I had left to do, cry and cry some more. By the time I managed to pull myself together, I had made some decisions. I couldn’t stay in the small, suffocating town any longer. With my parents now gone, I had no reason to stay and every reason to go. One of their properties in Canberra, a two-bedroom apartment in Greenway’s town centre, had become vacant only weeks earlier. That’s where I was going. Walking purposefully

towards the bedroom, I started stuffing my belongings into suitcases. When I was done with my wardrobe, I curled up in the fetal position on the end of my bed and fell into a much needed deep, dark sleep. A week later I pulled into the undercover parking garage with my bruised and battered Barina stuffed as full as I could manage. The furniture removalists would arrive the next day, but I had to get out as soon as I could. That town was suffocating, and if I had my way I would never see that dead, dreary beachside village again. That night I slept on the floor, with only a pillow and sheet covering me. I almost froze to death.

Once the furniture arrived and had been unpacked, I thought I had better start looking for a job. I was on my own and I had to support myself somehow. Flicking through the paper was depressing. There wasn’t a lot around at the moment, and, of what was available, I either didn’t understand what an APS was or they were for places I didn’t want to work. I had no idea what it was that I actually wanted to do, but I knew I didn’t want to be a receptionist at a panel beaters or a shop assistant at the local Athlete’s Foot. It seemed that while I was just lazing around the apartment, taking myself out to lunch and shopping, I was also fielding a million and one questions

from property managers about various tenants and maintenance issues with the other properties my parents had left me. It was on the third straight day of complaints, while I was having a pedicure, when the property manager decided to inform me that the tenants hadn’t paid rent in nine weeks and had smashed holes in the wall, that I had enough. As soon as my feet were dry—I didn’t even wait for the nail polish—I stormed down the road and ducked into the first real estate agency I found, Max Meredith & Sons. The tiny redhead behind the reception desk stood up meekly and without a word handed me a rental list.

“I’m sorry, I don’t need this,” I informed her casually. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t do property management here, just sales.” She smiled sweetly. She looked like she was barely fourteen, her wide innocent eyes staring at me apologetically. Feeling sorry for her, I smiled back. “No troubles. I was wondering if you have a sales agent here that I could speak to. I have a few properties to sell,” I offered. With her eyebrows raised, she whispered, “I’ll see who I can find,” jumping up from her chair and walking out the back. I could hear the sounds of a busy office. The photocopier was churning

paper out rapidly. Someone not far away was typing as though their life depended on it. And the phones. Office phones, mobile phones, and people squashing keys incessantly. The talking was animated. From where I was standing I could see an arm waving about wildly as laughter filled the air. A short man, in a very fat, very pink tie, ducked past me, smelling of cigarette smoke and coffee. “You all right?” he asked, almost as if it was an afterthought. I just nodded, having already decided I did not want to deal with him. The longer I was left standing at the counter, the more time I had to think about the decision I had made. Was I doing the

right thing selling the properties? Maybe if I just stuck it out a bit longer, things would get easier. Maybe they were just teething problems. When the redhead appeared again, she mumbled, “Joel will be with you shortly.” Without even a smile or a hesitation, she sat back down in her high-backed leather chair, pulled the telephone headset back over her ears, and dialed away. I sat down in the cold, sterile waiting area and flipped through the various magazines. They weren’t what I thought they would be. There were no house magazines, no Better Homes and Gardens, no DIY books. Only a couple of car magazines and old issues of

Rolling Stone. I could hear the redheaded receptionist making her weekend plans with what could only have been her girlfriend on the other end of the line. Above her head, lined up on the wall, was a long line of framed awards. It seemed as though there was one there from every year. I had obviously picked a half-decent agency to stumble into, although I had never heard of them beforehand. Just as I was thinking of leaving, the most beautiful man I had ever seen walked around the corner and smiled at me. He had spiky brown hair, gelled into a perfect position. His aqua eyes penetrated my soul as soon as he looked

at me. His black suit and white shirt were immaculately tailored and pressed, and his smile melted me in moments. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.” He reached out and shook my hand professionally. “I’m Joel Matthews. How can I be of assistance?” “I-I’m…Gillian,” I stuttered pathetically. “I need to sell some houses.” “Well, why don’t you come through into the conference room, and we can figure out what we need to do here?” he invited warmly. “I’ll just grab some papers and be right with you.” He opened the door for me and ushered me into the room, even pulling out the chair for me.

I had never met a gentleman before, but Joel Matthews may just be the perfect example of one. He was charismatic, charming, intelligent, and so very sexy. I sat in the bland conference room staring vaguely at the blue and orange walls, and fantasized about Joel. I had definitely made the right decision to sell. Rushing back in, his arms were full of papers, and he had pens hanging out of his mouth. He looked so disorganized it was enchanting. “Sorry about the wait.” He smiled again, looking straight into my eyes. I felt my breath catch in my chest, and my cheeks blush. “So, what are we selling?” he invited. I sat there for almost twenty minutes

describing the house in the suburbs and the unit on the water. I answered many questions, some I didn’t even know the answers to, but Joel assured me not to worry, that was his job and he would find out. When he asked whose name the properties were in, I felt myself tear up. Praying I wouldn’t embarrass myself, I began to explain. “I’m not exactly sure whose name the titles are in at this point. They were in my parents’ names, but they have both been left to me. They were transferring it over, but I’m not sure where they are with the process.” A strange, almost sad look crossed his face, “Mind if I ask why it’s being put in your name?” Taking a deep breath, so I exhaled,

trying to compose myself, “My parents recently died. They left everything to me.” It came out faster than I had ever spoken before, but at least it was out. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” he offered sincerely, reaching out and squeezing my hand supportively. Straightening myself in the chair, I pulled my hand out from under his and pretended to wipe stray strands of hair from my forehead. “So, what do I need to do next?” A wave of relief passed over Joel and I could see the life return to his mesmerizing eyes; he was obviously as glad as I was for the change of subject. “If you are one hundred percent sure this is what you want to do, we need to fill

out some paperwork, then I will get in touch with the property managers, let them know the properties are being sold, and see if we can get some access. How hard this whole process is really depends on the tenants, unfortunately. If they don’t allow access to the photographer, for exhibitions, or valuer when it is sold, it can cause huge issues. Do you know when the leases expire?” “Not sure, but yesterday I ordered the eviction of the tenants in the house. They are nine weeks behind in the rent, so I want them out. Also, I don’t know what sort of condition the property is going to be in once they have been evicted. From what I heard, they aren’t exactly what you would describe as ‘ideal’ tenants,” I

admitted. By this point I figured that he was going to find out anyway, so there was no point in lying. “Don’t look so worried.” Joel laughed easily. “It's no fun if it’s all straightforward. Okay, if you’re happy with everything you and I have discussed, I’ll just need you to sign a couple of pages and we can get to work.” He slid the papers towards me and I noticed for the first time he had been taking notes. They were already almost completely filled in. He smiled, my heart sped up, and I signed whatever he asked me to. “Great! Now here’s my card with all my contact details on it. Feel free to contact me with any questions or queries

you might have. I’ll get all this started and I’ll give you a call about lunchtime tomorrow, if that’s okay, and let you know how we’re going and a rough time of when you can expect to see the properties on the market,” he summarized. “Oh,” I said, disappointed. “Is something the matter?” His mood instantly turned to concern. “No…no, it’s nothing,” I mumbled. “Gillian?” he asked again. I liked the way my name rolled off his tongue. It was so natural and comfortable, as if he had been saying it his whole life. I stole a glance at his left hand. No ring. And no sign of a tan line where a ring had once been.

“I just thought it was on the market now. I don’t really understand what all this means.” Admitting it felt horrible. I felt stupid and naïve, but he smiled and instantly the fear of looking like a fool in front of this perfect man evaporated. Joel spent the next ten minutes patiently explaining to me all the steps that would have to happen before they appeared in the real estate guide. He didn’t seem annoyed about having to go over this with me, and I was grateful for his patience. “Anything I forgot?” He grinned again. Not trusting myself to speak, I just nodded half-heartedly. “Well then, I better let you get back to it, so I can go and do some work. I will call you

tomorrow and let you know how we are looking. But in the meantime, if you need anything else, you have my details.” He smiled again before reaching out and shaking my clammy hand. “Thanks again,” I managed to say, as he opened the door for me and walked me to the front of the office. “Talk soon.” He waved, then disappeared back into the deep, dark depths of the office. I stepped outside, grateful for the cool breeze blowing against my warm, embarrassed cheeks. Sitting in the conference room, I could feel myself sweating, but hoped it wasn’t noticeable. I glanced down at the business card I held tightly in my hand. Taking up most of the card was the

perfect picture of Joel—wide, warm, white smile, tie lying perfectly straight down his chest. Suddenly realizing I was standing outside this man’s office, staring stupidly at the photo of him held tight in my hand. I quickly walked away. Sliding behind the steering wheel, I could hear the phone ringing. Digging desperately through my handbag, I couldn’t find it. Irritated, I tipped the contents onto the passenger seat beside me. Not recognizing the number, I flipped open my phone. “Hello?” “Gillian, its Joel.” My heart missed a beat. “Did I forget something?” I asked nervously. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. I just needed to know if it was going to just be

your name on the title deed.” Relieved I hadn’t done or said anything stupid, I allowed myself a smug smile. I didn’t know if this was his roundabout way of asking if I was single, but that’s what I convinced myself anyway. “Yep, just me.” I smiled to myself, almost overflowing with happiness. “Oh, I guess that’s good…” he trailed off under his breath and I couldn’t quite catch the last few words. “Okay then…” I tried to end the call. Always leave them wanting more, one of my best friends had always told me. “I have to run, so unless there is anything else…” “Nope, that’s it. Have a lovely day,

Gillian.” He sounded pleased. I clicked the phone shut and burst out laughing. Even I was impressed by my performance. When Friday night arrived I joined some girlfriends I hadn’t seen in six months, since they had made the move to the big city. In high school the four of us had been inseparable, but the other three had enrolled at University to study, while I remained on the coast trying to figure things out. I took my time getting ready, paying particular attention to my makeup and hair. I chose my outfit, a knee-length orange and pink dress, with knee-high black boots, a black jacket, and white scarf wrapped around my neck.

All I could think about for the entire fifteen minute drive were those aqua blue eyes. I began wondering if I should sell the house first and then sell the unit once that was settled so I could draw out the time I would spend associating with Joel. Shaking my head, I realized how completely and utterly infatuated with him I was. By the time I arrived at the restaurant, a delicious Middle Eastern style restaurant, the girls were already waiting. Squealing with delight, Rhiannon jumped up and hugged me tightly. “Hey!” she shrieked. The whole restaurant turned and glared at us—a sure sign of a good night. “Hi,” Cora sang, standing up and

kissing my cheek across the table. Heidi waved enthusiastically before filling my wine glass. “Sorry, we couldn’t wait, so we ordered drinks.” Taking a long gulp, I realized that this was what I had been missing. Not the support and the condolences, but the carefree, happy friends who, even though they knew what happened, didn’t dwell on it. It helped lift me up rather than bringing me down. We sat and ate for hours, picking at the platters of food delivered to us by a waiter with the cutest bum I had seen in years. We ordered more wine and laughed over old times, and caught up on recent events. Rhiannon was kind of seeing her university mentor, but it was

only a casual thing, she assured us repeatedly. Heidi was too involved with her studies and her volunteering as a Girl Guide leader to have time for anything—she was one hundred and ten percent focused on finishing her teaching degree and getting into a school to help mould young minds—while Cora was madly studying at CIT to be a chef. She had these incredible dreams to travel the world, cooking and eating. Within three years her master plan was to be living somewhere in Europe, working in a Michelin star restaurant cooking up a storm for celebrities and royalty. They didn’t ask how I was doing directly, but asked a lot of questions about my plans. I told them I still wasn’t

sure what I wanted to do but until I figured it out I was going to try everything. They invited me to join them the following week to try a new Ethiopian restaurant that had just opened its doors, which I immediately agreed to. It was good having them back in my life. Everything was so easy. We already knew each other’s pet peeves and bad habits, so there was no tiptoeing around pretending not to notice them. After the fourth bottle of wine was finished, they needed to head off. Rhiannon claimed she had a “study” session early the next morning, but I would have put money on a late night rendezvous with a professor. Heidi was off on camp the next night and needed to

get some rest before she became responsible for a dozen screaming twelve-year-olds. I decided that I had just a little too many glasses of Cloudy Bay to drive just yet, so I was going to go for a walk and find a coffee. We said our goodbyes and promised to see each other the following week. I secretly couldn’t wait for the next installment of Rhiannon’s deranged sex life. It was only ten o’clock as I walked along the BMW-lined street, and despite the cold, the cafes and restaurants were still buzzing with life. Tables were full to capacity and the laughter reverberated from the buildings. As I approached the corner, I noticed a velvet rope and a man dressed immaculately, all in black,

complete with a top hat and white cotton gloves. “Miss, can I interest you in a cocktail?” He smiled warmly. For a moment I just stared blankly at him before I noticed the name tag on his shirt. Julian worked at the bar upstairs. “It’s warm up there,” he suggested, looking at how I was hugging my chest. “Take this up.” He handed me a half price voucher for the first cocktail purchase of the evening. I took it as a sign. A half price drink on a Friday night was a pretty good start. “Thanks,” I replied gratefully, accepting the voucher and walking quickly up the stairs. By the time I reached the landing halfway up, I could feel the wine haze hovering over me, but more than that I

could feel the temperature rising. I started to undo my jacket as I climbed the final ten steps. It was like visiting an antique store, or a really old aunt. It had velvet covered cushions, high backed wooden chairs, none of which matched any of the others, dim chandelier lighting, and floral wallpaper. In the far corner a jazz band played quietly, and people hushed over their cocktails. Bartenders in bow ties buzzed about, clearing glasses silently. Some people’s heads were nodding along in time with the beat, and the sound of the saxophone drowned out the sound of chatter. As I looked for somewhere to sit, I looked at the patrons. Most were middle

age, in couples or groups of four, all immaculately dressed and with diamonds dripping from everywhere. Unsure I actually belonged in this sort of establishment, I turned to leave. “Excuse me, Miss, can I get you a drink?” a handsome waiter asked. Remembering my half price drink voucher, and the infectious rhythm of the jazz band, I decided that one drink wouldn’t kill me. “Sure, I would like a…a…” “Can I suggest you try the kiwi and basil mojito? It’s the perfect blend of lime juice, fresh basil, kiwifruit, white rum and syrup,” he offered. I had to admit it sounded refreshing, and unlike anything I had ever tried

before. Since I was starting off on a clean slate, this seemed like the sort of thing that I should try. “Sounds fabulous.” I snorted, embarrassed. After watching way too many episodes of Sex and the City, the language had even taken over mine. “I’ll be right back. And if you’re looking for somewhere to sit, there are a few available seats towards the back,” he pointed out. “Thanks.” I made my way through the crowd, starting to relax and enjoy the music. It would have been so easy to just sit there for hours and get carried away by it all. I found an old Victorian style, red velvet chaise towards the back of the room and dropped my coat haphazardly

onto the end before sitting down next to it. I was fiddling with the zipper on my boots when the waiter returned with an ice-cold tumbler filled with chunky green liquid. Despite the rather offputting appearance, the taste was magical. Usually, I wasn’t a big rum drinker, but the other flavors in this were unbelievably refreshing. “They’re quite good, aren’t they?” a deep masculine voice asked from behind me. Almost spitting mojito across the room and covering the Dior clad lady in front of me in the process, I looked up to see Joel grinning cheekily at me. Although Joel and I had already met, there was something about him that was

completely captivating. I’m not sure if it was the mischief that danced in his eyes or the adorable dimple on his left cheek. I felt myself blush as I forced down another mouthful, which was pretty much entirely rum and no lime juice. Coughing, I tried to speak. “Are you stalking me or something?” I asked incredulously. I thought if I went on the attack I wouldn’t look like a freak, and I would also avoid saying the wrong thing. Laughing, Joel said, “No. I just had dinner with some colleagues up the road and wasn’t quite ready to head home yet, so I thought I would wander down for a while and see what I found. And voila, I found you.” Pushing my jacket up against

my leg, Joel lowered himself onto the seat next to me. My pulse was racing and my hands began to sweat again. Gone was the work uniform of the black suit, replaced by designer jeans, dark blue top, and white shoes. He caught me looking at his shoes, and I figured I had to say something. “What is it with you guys and your damn white shoes?” Looking at his own shoes, probably noticing what he had on for the first time, he just chuckled wholeheartedly. “These are my naughty shoes. I wear black shoes every day for work, so when I’m off the clock, I go for something different. Just trying to shake things up a

bit.” With nothing else to say, I sipped my drink quietly. My plan of remaining anonymous had failed. I had gone to a bar I had never been to before, a bar I didn’t even know existed, hoping just to relax and fade into the background. But as I glanced around the room, I knew my attempts had been futile. The man sitting next to me was the most gorgeous man in the bar, and women who were already obviously on a date, or out with someone, were blatantly staring at Joel. “Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?” I asked, before realizing I should have kept my mouth shut. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” “No. You can’t just do that. Say something then just back down. Come on, Gillian, out with it.” “When women stare at you like that. They don’t even bother to try to hide it,” I confessed painfully, feeling my face turn a deep beetroot red. “Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed,” he replied, his dazzling aqua eyes never once leaving mine. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” he asked genuinely, signalling to the waiter for another round. Moments later, another drink in hand, my confidence flying high with the help of white rum, I finally managed to make a decision. “It’s not me they’re looking

at.” “You sure?” For a long moment we just sipped our drinks and bounced along to the music. We weren’t touching, but the warmth from his leg was radiating through my flimsy dress, and I was caught regretting my wardrobe choice. I should just have donned jeans and an oversized comfy jumper. I drained the last of my drink from my glass and smiled slightly, trying to mask the hiccups. “I better start heading home,” I murmured, not knowing what else to say or how to break the silence. “One more drink?” He winked, again waving his arm in the air. Another round of drinks appeared almost instantly.

“Thanks, Jacob.” “Can I get you anything else?” he offered politely. “Just the bill, thanks.” Jacob had barely scurried away when Joel casually reached over and laid his hand on my knee. I could feel the warmth take over my body. The only thought running through my head in that moment was God, I hoped I shaved my legs properly. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. I looked Joel in the eye deliberately, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he gave me nothing. It was as if it was the most natural thing in the world for his hand to be resting on my knee. Jacob returned with the check and

instinctively I reached for my handbag. “Don’t be silly, I got this,” Joel said dismissively, pulling a hundred dollar note from a wad of them held together neatly in a gold money clip in the front pocket of his jeans. When Jacob returned with only thirty dollars change, I almost fainted. “How…how much were those drinks?” I asked, embarrassed. I always paid my own way and wasn’t about to change that now. “Forget it, you’re not paying. My treat.” He winked slyly before downing the last of his mojito in one long mouthful and jumping to his feet. Doing the same, I stood up and went to reach for my jacket, but I was too slow. Joel

was already holding it out for me to step into. Completely unaccustomed to being treated like this, I timidly wiggled into my jacket in as ladylike a manner as possible. Flicking my handbag over my shoulder, I said, “Thanks…I mean for the drinks and everything. I’ve had a really good time.” I meant it, too. “Why are you talking like the night is over? To me you look like the type of woman who loves a delicious chocolate mud cake, and I know the perfect place to get it at this hour,” he elucidated, reaching down and taking hold of my hand. Looking down, I couldn’t tell where his fingers ended and mine began, but I

felt completely at ease with him. I don’t know if it was the glasses of wine, or the delicious rum concoctions, or his smooth, easygoing candor. “What makes you think I am a mud cake lover?” I teased, trying desperately not to completely melt at his fingertips. “That’s easy. You’re female.” He laughed. It was a deep throaty laugh that sounded completely natural and easy. Walking down the stairs with Joel’s hand in mine, for the first time in a very long time life felt good. We bought the biggest, most delectable slice of mud cake I had ever seen. Rich, moist, covered in chocolate ganache and served with the biggest dollop of whipped cream, it was a heart

attack on a plate. But it was so good. Joel insisting on paying, and I was starting to learn more and more about the handsome man sitting in front of me, slowly but steadily rubbing his foot against mine. “So…” I asked, stuffing another piece of cake in my mouth. Knowing that I would have to spend all day tomorrow running around the lake, I figured I might as well enjoy the naughty things in life. Punishment could wait until tomorrow. “So…did I or did I not tell you that I knew just where to get the best chocolate mud cake in town?” Joel grinned, sneaking a fallen chocolate chip from the side of my plate. “You say that everywhere you buy

chocolate cake, Joel,” said the bouncy blonde with a giggle, clearing the table beside us. Joel was obviously a very popular guy. Not that I couldn’t see why. But I was just more curious as to why he was wasting a Friday night treating me to cocktails and cake. “So, tell me something about you,” I asked, completely intrigued. “What do you want to know?” “Anything.” Taking a deep breath, Joel looked nervously out of the corner of his eye, almost as if I was the only one who was going to hear him. “I’m the youngest of three. Two older sisters. I’m an uncle to five nieces. My dad died when I was

seventeen. I hated school so I dropped out of year eleven. I had no idea what it was I wanted to do with my life, but I wanted to drive a fancy car. So I fell into real estate pretty much by accident. But now I love it. Every day I get to talk to new people and I love watching them get excited over something they really love. That’s all you get for now. The rest you have to earn.” I forced a frown and flashed my sad little puppy eyes at him. “And…” “Nope, that’s all you get,” he asserted, rubbing at my cheek. “You have chocolate everywhere.” “Don’t change the subject! I want to know.” “Know what?”

“Did you get it?” Joel raised a quizzical eyebrow at me, as I scraped the remaining few chocolate crumbs onto my spoon. “The car. The reason for real estate. Did you get the fancy car?” “You tell me,” he whispered seductively into my ear before grabbing my hand and leading me out of the bakery.

Chapter Three Despite the icy cold wind that had kicked up, I didn’t feel a thing. I was completely intoxicated by the man in front of me. As we rounded the corner, he pushed me up against the side of the

building and kissed me passionately, his warm, strong hands cupping my face, lifting it up to his. I didn’t even feel the bricks scraping at my skin through the flimsy material of my dress. When I eventually pulled back, I sucked in long cold breaths. I watched hypnotized as puffs of condensation lifted up between us. “What was that about?” I asked, not really sure whether I was asking Joel for an answer, or myself. Joel shrugged, annoyed, which just made me want him even more. “So, where’s this car?” I said, finally remembering why we had come out in the cold. Joel began to walk away, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his head

down, trying to keep out of the wind. I just stood there, frozen hopelessly to the spot. As anger began to bubble up inside of me, I watched as Joel spun around. “Are you coming or not?” He grinned cheekily. I wanted to run to him, but forced my feet to take slow, steady steps. He stood at the corner, hands buried deep inside his jean pockets, his beaming smile lighting up the night. I was completely smitten, and I hoped that his kiss was an indication that he was as well. When I reached his side, he took my hand and stepped onto the road and led me towards a car park. “Which one?” I asked nervously. I was surrounded by some of the most beautiful cars I had

ever seen. Ferraris, BMWs, Porsches and even a Maserati. “Over there,” he said, heading in the direction he indicated. He pulled the keys from his pocket and pressed the button. The lights flashed, and it became obvious which car was his, a sparkling, metallic black, Audi TT convertible. I heard myself gasp. How could someone his age have such an imposing car? “Is that all?” I teased, trying my best not to appear impressed. Slapping my bum playfully, he began kissing my neck feverishly. I couldn’t tell whose arms were going where as I ravished his body. “Not here,” I panted. “Okay,” he murmured in my ear, still

kissing my neck. I pushed him away with all the force I could. We needed to get out of there. No way was I going to finish what we had started in a dirty, very public car park that had the strong stench of urine. As much as I wanted him, more than I had ever wanted anyone or anything before in my life, I wasn’t going to be that trashy. Picking up some guy in a bar was one thing, but having it on with him in the local car park was quite another. He slid across the bonnet like he was some kind of movie star. I was just afraid he would scratch the paint and blame me for it. If it was my car I wouldn’t be sliding over it, even if I was dressed head to toe in lamb’s wool. I

jumped into the passenger seat and when we took off, gravel was sent flying about haphazardly as we fishtailed out of the car park. Without thinking, I turned in my seat to face him. I didn’t say a word as my hand came to rest on his thigh. I stared at his face as he tried to concentrate. I knew I was making it harder for him, but I didn’t really care. Up close he was even more perfect than I remembered from his office. He was handsome in a stylish, sophisticated playboy way. He pulled the car to a halt at a set of deserted traffic lights. “Hurry the fuck up,” he swore under his breath, looking over at me, my eyes still firmly fixed on his jaw line. I leant over as far as I

could and kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear. I was becoming as impatient as he was. The light turned green, and with a screech of the tires, and black smoke billowing out behind us, Joel took off. I had no idea where he was taking me, and the fact that my car was parked back near the bar wasn’t even an issue. Although I had a couple of drinks, I was by no means drunk—tipsy, yes. Confident, absolutely. Horny, definitely. When the car came to a halt in front of an immaculate cement rendered house, I was shaken back to reality. Joel had already jumped out of the car and was opening my door when I realized I still had my seatbelt on.

“Wow,” I exclaimed, stepping from the car. “You live here?” I asked. Joel didn’t answer, he just began kissing the back of my neck and nuzzling my earlobes. “Have a look at this place,” I said in shock. It was the most beautiful home I had ever seen. The front yard, even the view from the driveway, was inspiring. I could hear running water somewhere close by, and a million tiny lights illuminated the front garden, showing off an immaculately landscaped yard. “I’ve seen it,” Joel murmur into my ear. “Let’s go inside.” He basically dragged me through the front door as I tried to take in as much beauty as I could, but my feet barely touched the

ground as he led me through an oversized oak door. Inside was even more amazing. The high ceilings featured built in lights which had been switched on and then dimmed. Everything was pristine and perfect—white leather lounge, the biggest flat screen television I had ever seen hanging on the wall, the glass coffee table with no sign of magazines or even a coffee ring. It was one of those living areas that you saw only in the home decorating magazines. Everything was simple, stylish, modern, and all in its place. Beyond the lounge room I could see into the kitchen, where the granite bench tops had nothing on them, not even a toaster or a kettle. Everything

was put away, and no trace of dust or even living. “Are you sure you live here?” I asked, trying to look around the rooms. I was secretly dying for the grand tour, I wanted to see more. I could only imagine what the bathroom would look like. In the midst of that thought Joel kicked off his shoes and ripped his shirt up over his head. I completely forgot about the house. If I thought his house was in perfect condition, his body was something else entirely. Everything that I guessed was under the suit when I first met him was there, and an even bigger surprise packet. Running my fingers softly over his

flawless washboard six pack, I was completely and utterly gone. In that moment I forgot about everything else. Joel dropped to his knees and undid the zipper on my boots. It was the most erotic and sensual thing anyone had ever done to me. I knew I was melting and by the time he stood up again, and I stepped out of my boots, I wanted him. More than I had ever wanted anything before in my life. “Bedroom?” I panted desperately in his ear, the only chance I had of coming up for breath. As he tugged down the zipper on the back of my dress, I could feel my heart pounding and my pulse racing. I could feel the wet warmth of his breath on my

quivering shoulders and my entire body was covered in tiny goose bumps. My dress fell to the floor, and for the first time I felt self-conscious. Before that moment I hadn’t thought of it, but standing in the middle of his perfect, oversize living room in only my black bra and underpants, I felt exposed and vulnerable—ashamed, even. But Joel didn’t give me a chance to think. Taking my hands in his, he led me towards the back of the house. Pushing open the bedroom door, I was surprised to see that even that was kept immaculate. The cynical part of me wondered if it was kept so perfect because tonight he was expecting to bring someone home, or if this was the

way he actually lived. His jeans fell to the floor, and with the only free hand I had, I pushed the bedroom door closed.

Chapter Four The night before had been a whirlwind. I awoke in a sun-filled bedroom, in the most luxurious sheets my body had ever known. They smelt of jasmine and something else, something I

couldn’t quite put my finger on, but I was transported to heaven. Lying there, breathing in the beautiful smells, I heard the shower turn off and realized where I was. This wasn’t some hotel room and room service wasn’t coming. I was in my real estate agent’s house. And someone, I hoped it was him, was about to finish in the shower. I knew Joel was older than me, and I was just hoping that this immaculate house he had brought me back to didn’t actually belong to someone else, someone with the same last name as him. “Please, don’t live with your parents,” I begged quietly. Scouring the room desperately for my clothes, but not moving from the bed, I

spotted them on the other side of the room. They were neatly folded on a leather chair in the corner, my boots on the floor, standing side by side. Sighing heavily, I heard the sound of the water running in the basin. Suddenly a lack of self-confidence and supreme embarrassment consumed me and I found myself darting across the room and pulling my clothes on as quickly as I could before I was spotted. As I was pulling on my last boot, Joel strutted back into the bedroom, looking like he had just stepped out of a fashion catalogue. His hair was styled, his face cleanly shaven, and he was dressed impeccably in a charcoal suit and tie. His crisp, clean white shirt was starched

within an inch of its life. “Morning.” He smiled, bending down to kiss my cheek as if it was the most natural thing to do. It was quick, easy, like it was an old habit. “Hi,” I murmured, trying to be as casual as possible. Even as I mumbled, I could feel my face flush in embarrassment. Without looking inept or even humiliated on any level, Joel checked that his tie was straight in the mirror hanging above the bed. I stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, not entirely sure what to do or say next. This was completely foreign to me. I had never picked up a stranger and ended up in a weird house, albeit a very nice

house, wearing last night’s clothes, about to complete the dreaded walk of shame. “Would you like some juice? There’s freshly squeezed orange and mango in the fridge,” Joel offered, smiling yet again. I wanted to curl up and die. Actually, what I really wanted was to rip the suit from his body and fall back between the beautiful sheets and surface a week later. Last night had been lustful, needy, and desperate, and I was curious if round two would be any different. “Sounds great,” I accepted. I hated orange juice; it gave me an itchy rash all over my body, tiny little pimples that itched and irritated for days. “Mind if I use your bathroom for a minute?”

“No problem. There are fresh towels on the shelf and a spare toothbrush in the second drawer,” Joel offered. I watched him walk out of the room. There was a confident swagger about him, and the way his hips swiveled side to side made me remember the night before even more vividly. Feeling my temperature sky rocketing, I chastised myself. I needed to behave myself and get out of there as quickly as possible, before I did or said something that would only lead to regret. The en suite bathroom was more than I could have imagined. It had sparkling clean, white tiles the entire height of the wall, a large square mirror, and thick, luxurious chocolate towels. Nothing out

of place. Not even a stray hair on the floor. Splashing some cold water over my inflamed face I forced my breathing back under control, but nothing could control my curiosity. I started in the second drawer, finding the spare pink toothbrush, still in its wrapper. Secretly I wondered how long it had been there, and how often it got replaced, but I quickly pushed that thought from my mind. The top drawer contained the usual—deodorant, razors, shaving cream, hair gel, and three different aftershaves. I took my time sniffing each of them. With each one, my heart raced a bit faster. They were all alluring. The third drawer had a spare tube of toothpaste, another bottle of

shampoo, and some moisturizer. “No wonder you look so good,” I said to myself. It made sense, really. A man who looked as immaculate as Joel did every time I saw him needed something to make him look like that. I was just relieved to know he didn’t roll out of bed each day looking like a model. The fourth drawer was a mystery. Every guy that I had ever known had only needed one drawer. Joel was more into appearances and I guess part of looking good came from his job, but what could he possibly be stashing in the fourth drawer? A knock at the door made me almost collapse. I felt like a child being caught searching for Christmas presents a week

before Santa came. “Did you find everything you need?” he called out. Stuffing the toothbrush in my mouth, “Yes, thanks,” I said, garbled, hoping that I had pulled it off. I stood there for a few moments, my heart racing, waiting until I heard his footsteps walk away from the door. Turning back to the fourth drawer, I pulled it open quickly, knowing my snooping time was quickly running out. Inside was only one box—condoms. Joel had his birth control stashed in the bathroom. No big deal. Everyone had them somewhere in their house. Quickly rinsing the dry toothbrush, I laid it on the sink next to his. I wandered out into the kitchen only to find Joel

gulping down a juice and swallowing a handful of pills. “Big night?” I laughed, trying to break the eerie silence. Shaking his head, he replied, “Nah, just some vitamins.” “What time did you get up? I didn’t hear you.” “I was up at five. I went for a run, did my work out, and jumped in the shower. I hope I didn’t wake you.” “You went for a run?” “Yeah, but it was only seven kilometers this morning. I was still pretty wiped out. For some reason I didn’t get much sleep last night.” He winked and my stomach lurched. I didn’t know what to say. He was

obviously a fitness freak and I, well, if I even thought about running to the letter box at the top of his driveway I would pass out. “Can I borrow your car keys for a minute?” I asked, desperate to get away from his piercing stare. He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I’m not going to steal it.” I managed to laugh and actually mean it. “I just need to grab my handbag. I left it there last night.” He tossed me the keys and it took all my concentration to catch them. The last thing I wanted to do was look like a klutz in front of him. I jumped off the bar stool and headed out the door. Out on the drive I was almost blinded by the sun. I had no idea what time it was, but the sun was high in the sky and the throbbing in

my head wasn’t helping anything. I grabbed my bag and headed back inside. As I reached out to hand him back the keys our fingers brushed slightly and I felt the now all too familiar tingling sensation run rampant through my entire body. There was something about this guy that made me want him so badly I could taste him. He was just so damn sexy. “So, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but I have to get to work…” He trailed off. “No, oh god, no. Don’t even worry about it. I’ll just call a taxi and get out of here,” I offered, before remembering I didn’t know exactly where I was. “You might just have to give me the exact

address…” As I said the words, my heart sank. I had never felt so cheap and so much like a whore in my entire life. Admitting out loud that I had no idea where I was the ultimate degradation. “It’s fine, Gillian.” When he added my name, I felt slightly better. At least he knew my name. That wasn’t something that cheap street walkers did, give out their real name. “I’ll drive you. Just tell me where you want to go.” He chuckled, grabbing a protein shake from the stainless steel fridge. I told him to take me back to my car, which was all I could manage. All I wanted to say was “Take me back to bed,” but thankfully I restrained myself. I grabbed my bag and headed out the door.

In the morning sunlight the front yard was even more beautiful than it had been the night before. Trees had shed their leaves and the whole yard had been turned a mosaic of autumn color, fiery reds, glistening golds, and burnt browns. The leaves cracked and broke apart under my feet, then I melted into the front seat of the car. Joel joined me only moments later, sliding silently behind the wheel, and reversed hastily down the drive. “I have to ask, is that your place?” I asked nervously, still unsure that I really wanted the answer. “Why is that?” he avoided. “Just curious,” I played back, mentally congratulating myself for being

so nonchalant. “Who else’s would it be?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Your parents’? A client’s? Your boss’s?” “What makes you think it’s not mine?” “Honestly?” “Honestly.” “Okay, it’s immaculate. I mean, the gardens are near perfect, the house doesn’t have a speck of dust anywhere that I could see. It’s stylish without being over the top. It’s simplistic and it looks like something straight from a magazine. Besides, you’re a single, young guy. No single guys I know have a house like that.” I knew I was babbling, “You are single, aren’t you?” I asked, taking

another look at his left hand for any sign of a ring. Laughing, Joel’s face lit up. I could tell he wasn’t laughing at me but rather enjoying the easygoing banter. “Okay, in order. No, the house isn’t my parents’. Nor is it a client’s or my boss’s; I’m not that tacky. I have a gardener who comes once a week to keep my yard looking like that. And the cleaner comes twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays. Her name is Marie. Yes, it looks like something out of a magazine, because it has been in a couple. I spend barely any time at home, so it never really gets the chance to become messy and a typical guy’s house. Satisfied?” he asked with a smirk. “You missed one thing.”

“What was that?” “Don’t worry.” “You can’t just do that. Say I missed something, but not tell me what it was?” Joel teased. He knew exactly which part of the question I was referring to; his eyes were alive and mocking. His avoidance was infuriating. “Don’t play dumb,” I scolded. “I have no idea what you mean.” He chuckled, turning into the car park we had left merely hours earlier. Across the road I saw cafés filled with Saturday morning patrons enjoying their scrambled eggs and lattes. In that moment I despised the happy, smug couples, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes while she pretended to pick

at her fruit cup and he stuffed down bacon, sausages, and hash browns. It was all so fake, or at least that’s what I hoped. The sound of Joel’s deep voice broke my fixation and brought me out of my hate-filled gaze. “Which car is it?” “Just drop me here. I’ll walk. It’s only upstairs.” I smiled, not wanting Joel to see my car. In comparison to his, it was embarrassing and I had already had more than my fair share of humiliation the morning. “You’re sure? I don’t mind.” “Yup!” He pulled the car to a stop, and I opened the door. “Thanks for, you know. Dropping me back.” My stomach was full of butterflies the size of

albatrosses. “No trouble. I’ll call you later on about the house.” He smiled. “See you.” He turned into an empty car park and turned around. As he drove back past me, I had my eyes firmly fixated on the ground in front of me. I didn’t want to see the look on his face as I took the inevitable walk of shame back to my car. “Hey Gillian,” he called out. My eyes shot up towards his voice deceivingly quickly, “So, yeah, I am single.” He grinned that silly, cheeky grin that got me into trouble in the first place. My face flushed, but he never saw it. He was already gone.

Chapter Five Five days after my walk of shame, I was still furious with Joel. He hadn’t called once. No email, no text message, not even a comment on Facebook when, in a fit of uncontrolled anger, I decided

to change my status to ‘Are all real estate agents assholes?’ I don’t know if I was angry because he hadn’t called me, or because he’d promised to let me know what was going on with the sale of my parents’ properties and he hadn’t. When the phone rang I jumped up, suddenly filled with hope, and ran through the apartment like a woman possessed. Swearing and cursing at myself, I struggled to even locate the handset. Spotting it half buried in the clean washing pile, I jumped the sofa and grabbed it. “Hello?” I puffed and panted, as the hope instantly faded and dread filled my body. How embarrassing, to answer the phone sounding like you have just run a

marathon. “Hey Gillian, it’s me, Rhiannon!” she exclaimed cheerily. Instantly I wanted to commit murder. I was annoyed that my hopes had soared so high and it was only Rhiannon, but it wasn’t her fault. “Oh, hi,” I mumbled, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice. “So tomorrow night we’re heading out on the town and you, missy, are joining us. No excuses!” Wracking my brain, trying to find an acceptable excuse, I coughed. I knew I didn’t have one, and there was no way Rhiannon would let me out of this. “Cool,” I faked. “Who with? What time? Where we headed?” “Just the girls this time. You, me,

Cora and Heidi. Going to meet at my place about seven, have a few quiet drinks and finish getting ready, and then we’ll head into the city,” she detailed. “No troubles. Well, I’ll drive and that way we can get there and home.” “No chance. Alex is going to come over when I call him, pick us all up and drop us in the city. Then when we’re nicely plastered and relaxed, I just have to call and he’ll come and pick us all up and take us home.” As much as it annoyed me, I had to admit, Rhiannon had it all planned out. “Sounds good. What do I bring?” “Just your fabulous self and a bottle of champers!” She giggled, making it sound like she had already begun the

festivities. “Easy! I’ll see you tomorrow about seven.” As the phone disconnected I felt like a complete phony. I had just pretended to be excited and enthusiastic about a night out with the girls, when in reality all I wanted to do was curl up in bed, hide under the covers, and pretend that the past week hadn’t happened. I had barely left the house since my night with Joel. Even the possibility of running out of food didn’t deter my hibernation. I simply dialed it in. I emailed out job applications and ordered clothes online—anything to avoid seeing people. Then as I sat there, dreading a night

out with my friends, I realized the ugly truth—I had become a hermit, something I considered pathetic. Especially since the reason I had become the shell of a person was because of a one night, alcohol-filled mistake with a gorgeous real estate agent. With the decision firmly made, I jumped up and almost skipped into the shower. Minutes later, feeling refreshed and revitalized, I was out the door and walking towards the shopping centre. After three hours of intense shopping, which had my credit card steaming and my fingers turning white from shopping bag strangulation, I was on my way home feeling like a different person. When I got home I managed to refrain

from checking my email and Facebook profile. I didn’t want to know. I would wait and see how long it took him to contact me, and whether, when he eventually did, it would be completely work related. Instead, I focused on getting ready for my night of fun and frivolity with the girls, making sure I took the time to promise myself that I wouldn’t do the same stupid thing I had done the week before. With a big night ahead the next day I ordered in Thai before collapsing into bed with a book. By nine I was fast asleep, the discarded book on my face. Having a few hours to get ready was just the distraction I needed. I started with a long luxurious bubble bath,

ensuring I massaged lavender moisturizer into my freshly shaved legs after I painted my toenails a shade of pink so light you could barely see it at all. I painted my finger nails and straightened my hair. When I checked the clock, I was surprised to see I had only an hour left before I had to head to Rhiannon’s’ place. I took care doing my makeup; I wanted to look stunningly fresh and natural before slipping my new outfit and heels on. Doing a quick spin in front of the mirror, I was happy with what I saw. Flicking the lights off, I headed out the door determined to have a fabulous night with friends and forget all about Joel Matthews.

The look on Cora’s face as she pulled open the door confirmed my thoughts. “You look absolutely gorgeous,” she gasped, grabbing my wrist and pulling me inside. “Thanks,” I accepted as gracefully as I could. “You too.” For the first time since my world had been turned upside down, I felt alive again. I was nineteen and, for the first time in quite a while, I felt it. I didn’t have solicitors asking questions and people offering me things or queries from property managers over what they should do. Instead, I was handed a crystal glass of champagne from my best friend as I settled into the sofa and watched the hypnotic movements of

Usher on DVD. “Ladies!” Rhiannon exclaimed, breezing into the room and twirling, her short mini dress flaring as she fell into the oversized stuffed couch. “Don’t we all look ravishing?” I could instantly tell that the glass of bubbles in Rhiannon’s hand wasn’t her first. “Who needs more champers?” Heidi asked, joining us in front of the television, a bottle of Omni in either hand. I found myself captivated by the hip swiveling on the screen. Wearing only a pair of jeans and more diamonds than the local jeweler owned, Usher was droolworthy. “Earth to Gillian,” Cora teased,

poking me gently in the ribs. “Sorry, I was off with fairies,” I admitted sheepishly. “We noticed.” Rhiannon laughed heartily. I shrugged as Heidi topped up my glass. “I just want to know, where do I get one of those?” “No idea! I don’t know anyone with a body like that, and if I did I sure as shit wouldn’t take my hands off him.” Rhiannon was well on her way to drunk; she was already beginning to slur her words and talk random nonsense. Past drinking adventures had prepared all of us. Each of us had our own little idiosyncrasies when we were drunk. Things that normally we wouldn’t

do, but once sufficient quantities of alcohol was added, some things couldn’t be stopped. Cora would cry. It didn’t matter if nothing happened at all, at some point, Cora would just break down in tears and cry. Rhiannon would get horny, hitting on any man whose eye she could catch. Even if it was across the bar she would make her move, often to the disgust of the object of her lust’s partner. This usually meant Heidi became agitated and aggressive, swearing and cursing like a sailor, pushing people and even getting in the occasional cat fight. My biggest vice was my tongue. When loosened due to one too many cocktails, I tended to say what I thought with little or no regard of the rules. If

someone asked if their bum looked big in their jeans and they did, but normally the polite thing to do would be to assure them that no, they looked great. That’s when drunken Gillian would tell them with a muffin top like that I wouldn’t be worried about the ass chasing them around. I had a foul mouth and I often ended up calling the next day to apologize. When the last of the champers was empty, Alex arrived and drove us into town. I don’t really know how he did it with the radio blasting Madonna as loud as it could go and four very tipsy, women singing even louder. “Behave yourselves!” Alex warned out the window as we quickly joined the

end of the queue outside the club. “Yes dear,” we all called out in unison. It was freezing. Even through the champagne induced haze I knew it was freezing. My strapless black top wasn’t doing much to keep out the frosty midnight breeze. I was glad I had chosen to wear pants rather than a skirt or a dress like the others. I could see their legs turning blue as they bounced up and down, trying to keep warm as the queue snaked inside. Luckily it didn’t take us long to get inside. “Ladies,” the bouncer greeted, lifting the velvet rope and stamping our wrists as we passed by. He was a stunning specimen. He had a simple,

country bumpkin smile and the biggest biceps I had ever seen, but they looked natural and in proportion with the rest of his body. Not like the dumb, personality deprived, steroid-filled, robot standing opposite him. He handed me a lollipop and I headed up the stairs towards the thumping music. Upstairs I spotted a booth in the back corner and in our own version of sign language Heidi and I headed straight for it, while Cora and Rhiannon went straight to the bar. Moments later the four of us were sitting around, toasting friendship with shots of Baileys. “So, Gillian…what happened with that delectable real estate agent you were telling us about last week? Seen

any more of him?” Heidi prodded. “Yeah,” Cora added. “He sounded like fun with a capital ‘F’!” I told them the truth. They were the only family I had these days so I admitted everything. The immaculate house, the beautiful car, and the walk of shame the next morning. “Was his body as good as you imagined?” Rhiannon asked straight out. Even sober, she had no discretion or shame. If she wanted to know something, she would just ask. If it hurt your feelings, that was your problem, not hers. I slid down in my seat. The smile on my face felt so big my lips almost cracked in the corners. “Oh my god!”

was all I could say. How do you describe the best male specimen you have ever seen? For the next couple of minutes we sat around gushing about Joel’s perfect body and his perfect manners. The perfect house and the fact that although it seems I was just another notch in his belt, he was still the perfect gentleman the whole time. I think the word ‘perfect’ was used about a million times in the space of ten minutes. Then, abruptly, Rhiannon stood up, swayed on her feet, gulped down the last of her vodka raspberry and made a declaration. “Ladies, we aren’t here tonight to discuss Gillian’s previous conquests. We’re here to find the next

one!” Through the infectious cackling, Heidi remembered Alex. Kind, loving Alex, who was planning on getting out of bed in the middle of the night and coming to get us. “Rhiannon, aren’t you otherwise spoken for?” “Yes, but you aren’t.” She grinned cheekily, grabbing Heidi’s hand and leading her to the centre of the dance floor. I decided to sit this one out. Instead, I stayed to mind our drinks and our booth. I watched as the others laughed and danced and enjoyed themselves. I was having a great time just watching. When a broad shouldered, blond football type of guy approached and asked if he might

buy me a drink, I declined his offer. I wasn’t sure why, but it just didn’t feel right. I felt as though I was cheating. Cheating on something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. “Did you just send that scrumptious bit of man candy away?” Cora asked, sliding back into the booth, puffing heavily. Nodding, I sipped my vodka slowly. “Man, that real estate agent must have been unbelievable in bed. Or at least I hope he was, ’cause that guy you sent away, he looked like he would know what he was doing. Mind if I go find out?” Smiling, I sent Cora off after Mr. Football, as he later became known. Moments later I watched them from my

booth, gyrating their way around the dance floor. I felt even better. Seeing Cora that happy felt right. Heidi and Rhiannon were at the bar ordering more shots and laughing. Everyone was having an incredible night. Then I saw him. His perfect hands, resting on her bum. His smiling face, reflected in her eyes. His dark blue jeans and grey button down shirt were the epitome of class and sophistication. His deep, soothing voice, whispering into her ear. His brown hair spiked into the perfect position. Joel was here. All my determination not to think about it or dwell on what might have happened evaporated and was replaced by a cold fury. As the realization sank in that I

meant nothing to him, a blind hatred consumed me. I was so preoccupied when Rhiannon and Heidi slipped back into the booth beside me, I didn’t even notice that they had returned. Heidi must have sensed that something was wrong. “Gillian! Gillian!” she called out, trying to make herself heard over the pumping music. When Rhiannon touched my arm I jerked around and faced her, realizing for the first time that they had returned. “What’s up?” she asked, reading the strange look that crossed my face. When I didn’t respond they followed my gaze and spotted the beautiful man nibbling on the blonde’s ear lobe. He planted tiny little kisses up and down the

length of the swan-like neck that she arched backwards seductively while giggling. “You know that guy?” “Gillian! Do you know him?” Shaking my head with disgust, I downed both my shot and Heidi’s before taking my eyes off him and facing Rhiannon. “Ladies, meet Joel Matthews.” Both of their eyes darted around and looked again. They saw him the same way I saw him. And I have to admit it was great in that moment, at the time when I needed someone to understand, someone to know me, someone to be filled with the same rage that I was, Rhiannon and Heidi were.

“We’re out of here,” Rhiannon proclaimed, already on her feet.

Chapter Six When I finally managed to pry my eyelids open around midday the next day, I just wanted to shut them again. My tongue was furry and my mouth felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton wool. My

ears were ringing and my head pounding. I could feel the room spinning around me. I didn’t think I had drunk that much, but obviously counting my drinks hadn’t been high on my agenda. I managed to stumble to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, in hopes that would make me feel human again. Looking up, straight into the truthfilled mirror, I saw the most horrid sight imaginable. My bloodshot eyes were outlined by dark tear-streaked mascara circles. Lipstick was smudged halfway across my cheek, making me look more like a clown than a person. My hair still had bobby pins hanging out of it, and clearly I had used an entire can of hairspray when I plastered it into

position, so it now resembled a very poorly constructed bird’s nest. After three attempts of washing it all away with icy water, I drank thirstily directly from the faucet. The high pitched whistling noise the pipes made as the water thudded through them made my head spin even faster and harder. After glugging down a few liters, I stumbled back into bed, pulled the quilt cover over my head, and fell back asleep. Waking again, I felt a bit better, but was surprised to see that it was already three o’clock. I had drifted in and out of consciousness for most of the day. After a shower and a tall glass of Coke I felt almost human again. Drawing back the dark curtains, I saw that the day I missed

hadn’t been much. It had rained heavily, by the looks of the puddles that lined the driveway, and the trees were almost horizontal as the howling wind controlled them. Tripping over a shoe I slumped to the lounge and clicked on the remote. When I felt something hard dig into my bum I foraged around, only to find the entire contents of my handbag tipped between the cushions. Finding my phone, I nervously put it on the arm of the chair and walked away. I didn’t know if I called anyone last night. I didn’t remember calling, but then again I didn’t remember getting home or anything really after I spotted Joel in the club. Oh my god. I didn’t make an idiot

of myself in front of Joel, did I? My phone was taunting me. Silent, still, waiting for me to gather the courage to flip it open and see what I had done. I couldn’t do it. Instead, I went into the kitchen and found something to eat. I saw my phone vibrate off the lounge and crash to the floor, but my feet were frozen to the spot. I wanted to run and stop it from breaking, but if it broke all the information in it would be lost. All the evidence destroyed. But moments later it vibrated and buzzed again. It may have hit the floor with a thud but it still worked. Perfectly. In that moment some strange impulse consumed me. I had no idea who could be trying to get a hold of me but I hoped

it was Joel. I wanted to know that I hadn’t stuffed everything. I wanted him to reassure me that everything was okay, that I wasn’t some desperate, needy one night stand or just another notch on his belt. I flipped it open and read the message. Rhiannon: U up yet? I’m dying. Rhiannon had always had a flare for the dramatic. Gillian: Yeah alive. I slumped back down on the lounge and hit play on the DVD. I didn’t even

know what was in there and I didn’t really care. I just wanted the noise of something other than the incessant, infuriating ringing in my ears. Rhiannon: Heidi n I r on way with ur car. I had completely blanked out that part of the evening. I know Alex was supposed to bring us home but I don’t remember if he did or not. Probably; he was reliable and sensible like that. For the next twenty minutes I sat, completely unable to move, tears streaming down my face, regretting pressing play. PS I Love You played on the screen. Heidi didn’t even knock. She

just pushed open the door and flopped onto the sofa beside me, her eyes completely focused on the screen in front of us. Rhiannon came through the door like a whirlwind. “Well, ladies, did we all have fun last night?” Heidi and I rolled our eyes at her in unison and grunted our agreement. “So, what happened to you, Gillian?” Heidi asked, straining her eyes away. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you turned down an absolute stunner, he ends up taking Cora home, and now no one can get hold of her. And you end up at the bar with a line of cowboy shots in front of you that you were downing like water. I have never

seen anyone, male or female, drink like you did last night. Did you have a death wish or something?” I stared at Heidi for a long time. At least now I knew the cause of the throbbing pain in my head and the reason every time I took a sip of my water I felt like my entire insides were going to come streaming out of me. “Did I?” I asked nervously. Surely she was exaggerating. They both laughed, seeing me wiggle. “How did I get home?” I enquired, not sure if I really wanted the answer. “Alex,” Rhiannon offered. “He drove us all here. I stripped you off, tucked you into bed, and then we left. Nice lingerie, by the way. Was that for me or someone

specific?” “We practically carried you through the door. Well, Alex did,” Heidi finished. I felt my whole face turn beetroot red with embarrassment. I had been drunk before, but nothing like that. I didn’t remember how I got home; I couldn’t even walk up the steps by myself. “I’m so sorry, guys…” I started, but was cut off by Rhiannon’s hysterical cackle. “Don’t be sorry at all. You needed a good night out and you had it. I needed a good laugh and I got it. All in all, a very successful evening. Want to do it again?” “I want to kill you!” I tried smiling, but couldn’t conjure one. “You know

that, right?” Later that night I lay curled up on the lounge, a bowl of hot buttered popcorn in my lap, and a blanket wrapped around me watching Sex and the City reruns. It amazed me; those ladies went out every night dressed head to toe in Dior or Gucci, drank more than a fish and awoke the next morning mostly looking stunning and refreshed with a different gorgeous guy each time. With that thought running around in my overtired and still slightly intoxicated brain, I thought of Joel. Maybe he was my one perfectly gorgeous guy. Maybe that was all I got. The more I thought about him, the more irritated and annoyed I got. It wasn’t that he had basically thrown me

out the door, because the truth was he didn’t. He was a perfect gentleman the morning after. No, the bit that was annoying me more than anything else was the fact that I had employed him and he hadn’t bothered to call. I had retained his professional services and he was supposed to have fulfilled specific obligations and he had failed. Frustrated, it took all my control and strength to not text him and say something I would regret later. No, I was more mature than that. First thing Monday morning I was going to contact his office and find out what the hell was going on. Still annoyed, I found myself drooling over the Absolut hunk as I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Monday arrived, I had made some momentous decisions regarding my life. I was going to take control and do with it what I wanted. I had spent the day before surfing the internet getting very familiar with my new best friend, Google. I was putting together my bucket list. It was so broad and varied. It had simple things like ice skating and gokarting, but then it had adventurous things too. I wanted to ride an elephant in the jungles of Thailand, and I wanted to see the great pyramids of Egypt, before climbing the Eiffel Tower in Paris at sunset. But first I was going to start small. I was going to get fit and skinny and start feeling good about myself. So when the alarm rudely

interrupted me at six a.m. I wanted to kill someone. But then I remembered this was entirely my idea. Even if it was a stupid one. I tortured my body for the next half an hour while I followed the yoga instructor on TV through a rather painful session before exposing my already tired and sore body to cold and attempted a run. It almost killed me. My labored breaths formed fluffy white clouds of condensation in front of my face while my nose was so cold it felt like the tip would fall off. My plan had been to run for half an hour, then shower and start my day. Barely ten minutes in, I had a stitch in my side and could barely breathe. With my heart pounding madly in my chest, I walked the rest of the way.

“Morning,” other joggers greeted as they breezed past barely panting, let alone sweating. By the time I stepped into the shower and let steam surround me, I recognized the extent of the weariness on my neglected body. It would take time to build up to running, but I’d get there. I was determined. First get fit. Feel good. Look fabulous. Then I’d get what I wanted. Or who I wanted. After scoffing down my breakfast I stole a glance at the clock only it was just after eight. Too early to ring Joel and let him know my thoughts. Trying to distract myself, I vacuumed and did a load of washing. I threw out a pile of old trashy magazines and even dusted,

something I hated more than anything else. Other than ironing, it was the single chore I despised the most. The clock stuck nine and I could only hold out a few more minutes. At ten past I called the office’s main line. “Max Meredith & Sons, this is Madeline.” “Good morning, Madeline. Could I please speak to Joel Matthews?” “Could I ask who’s calling?” Already, she was irritating me. I’m sure she was just doing her job and following the script written in front of her, but for some reason I found her completely patronizing. Why did I have to explain myself to her? “It’s Gillian Dempsey,” I retorted, refusing to give more than was

requested. “And Ms. Dempsey, can I ask what it is regarding?” she chirped. I pictured her in my mind and it was definitely not complimentary. “Regarding the sale of my property.” “Just a moment, I’ll see if he is available.” At that point Madeline must have pressed a button and the most annoying repetitive hold music came on. It was the sort of music you hear as you enter the big top at the circus. “I’m sorry, Mr. Matthews is tied up at the moment. Can I take a message?” Now I was really pissed off. Tied up my ass; he was avoiding me. “Tell him if he does not contact me within the next three hours I will withdraw my

properties from the market and take my business elsewhere.” I heard Madeline gulp. I hoped I was intimidating her. I hoped she was scared of passing the message along. But as soon as the thought registered, I instantly felt sorry for the doe-eyed beauty. It wasn’t her fault that I was a dirty, desperate tramp who couldn’t keep my hands off the sexy real estate agent. “Can…m-may I get your contact number?” she stammered, clearly shaken. After giving her my mobile I thanked her, hoping that she wouldn’t bear the brunt of Joel’s anger in my place. I would have quite happily told him what I thought, but he was too chicken shit to

talk to me like an adult, so poor, innocent Madeline had had to face my frustration. The hours passed without a word. By four that afternoon, irritated had given way to furious. I couldn’t believe that he was so childish that he couldn’t even return a client’s phone call. I mean, he had a fancy car and a nice house, so he must be nice to some clients to have that sort of success, but obviously not the ones he slept with. With only fifteen minutes left of the work day, I called the office again. This time Madeline, already wary of me, informed me that Joel was in a meeting and she would again pass on my message to return my call as soon as he

finished. This time I managed to remember that it wasn’t Madeline who was at fault, and didn’t take my annoyance out on her. By Friday I was fuming. Not only was my entire body aching from my newly enforced exercise regime, but I still hadn’t heard back from Joel. This time I wasn’t going to give in or play nicely. I called his mobile directly. The fourth call, he answered. “Hello,” he spat rudely. “Joel! This is Gillian,” “Yes, what can I do for you now, Gillian?” he asked dismissively. I could tell he was pissed, but I didn’t care. He didn’t get to make me the bad guy in this one. He knew what we were doing. If

he’d have wanted to stop it he could have. But he didn’t. “A return phone call would be a nice start,” I snapped back. “Look, Gillian,” I heard him cough and clear his throat. “We are NOT in a relationship. For God’s sakes! Grow up and stop calling my office. I do not have to answer to you.” His raised voice was powerful. On the other end of the phone I knew instantly that he meant every word he said, but I didn’t care. “Actually, Joel, you do. I employed you. I have a contract signed by the both of us stating that you work for me. I retained your services and on completion of your work you will be remunerated.” I felt smart.

Not cocky, just right. And I was even surprised at myself that I was able to use all the words I wanted to and they made sense as they came out. I hadn’t faltered. I heard him let out a deep breath. I could feel the tension in the silences. As much as it pained him, we both knew he had nowhere to go, even if he refused to admit it. “Well then. If that’s the way you want to play this one. Your unit will be in tomorrow’s paper and on exhibition tomorrow and Sunday. The house, as previously discussed, won’t hit the market until the tenants vacate in approximately four weeks and repairs have been carried out. Does that satisfy all of your questions, Ms. Dempsey?” “Actually, I just have one more,” I

said, using all my restraint to hold my voice steady and not lose my temper. “I’d like the name and contact details of your boss.” “Excuse me?” I heard him gasp, evidently shocked at such a preposterous question. “Your boss. Who do you report to? I need their name and contact details. Thank you.” I heard him muttering under his breath but couldn’t make out the words. “My principal’s name is John McMasters,” he mumbled, I think driven by pure shock more than anything, before regurgitating a mobile number softly in the vain hope that I didn’t catch all the numbers. “Thank you, Joel. You have been very

informative this afternoon. I expect I’ll be hearing from you soon with regards to the unit’s progress,” I declared, clicking off. Armed with information, I sat for a long while with a smug smile on my face. Round one had definitely gone to me. I wasn’t sure I was going to let Joel’s boss know how he was speaking to clients, but I thought I would give him some time to sweat it out. It wasn’t like I wanted to ruin what was so obviously a successful career, but as someone paying thousands of dollars in commission, I deserved better than to be spoken to like that. Satisfied with the outcome and slightly chuffed with myself for not being

an overly emotional girl but instead restrained and professional, I collapsed onto the lounge. Although it was a Friday night, I had begged off another night of dancing and debauchery with the girls. Instead, I had chosen a DVD, slippers, and a block of chocolate. With no one to impress, I had a long hot shower and pulled on my favorite grey sweat pants with holes in the knees and the hem falling down on one side, and an oversize jumper with a stain from something straight down the middle. It was barely moments after I had made myself comfortable and settled into the lounge when the doorbell rang. Frustrated, I paused the movie and scrambled to the door.

The sight that met my eyes was one I hadn’t expected. Standing before me, apologetic smile plastered across his perfect face, was Joel. Still in his suit and tie despite the hour and the day, I could still tell he had only just finished work. “Hi,” I mumbled, still completely shocked and embarrassed. I couldn’t have looked worse if I’d tried to. Yet again he was looking flawless. “Ummm…h-hi,” he stuttered, running his hand through his hair although there was so much product there it didn’t move at all. “What are you doing here?” “I…aahhh…I…came to apologize. I was out of line this afternoon and I’m

sorry. Actually, I was out of line all week. I knew you called, my receptionist gave me your messages, and I know that I had promised to call and let you know what was happening, but I didn’t want to have the inevitable complicated conversation about what happened.” Once he managed to start talking it came with a flourish. “Here,” he said, handing me a chilled bottle of white wine. It was a brand I had looked at many times and decided it wasn’t worth wasting that sort of money on. “Thanks,” I said unenthusiastically. “Look, I know what happened the other night, but I honestly was calling about the unit. You said you would let me know how everything was going and

I’ve never done this before, so I need you to tell me what I’m supposed to do. That’s all.” Gulping, Joel flashed his lopsided grin, which made my heart flutter. “I know. I was just hoping to avoid this conversation. I guess I didn’t really think it through properly,” he admitted. I was secretly amused at his awkwardness. We just stood there for a long moment looking at the ground. I pretended to read the label while Joel pretended to look out across the complex. Unable to stand the silence any longer, as bravely as I could, I asked, “Would you like to come in for a glass of this? I probably shouldn’t drink the whole bottle on my own.”

I saw the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to come in and have a drink but I think there was a reluctance to let things progress back to where they were the other night. Me, I wasn’t concerned. If that’s where they ended up I was okay with that. Beside the fact that he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, he was unbelievable in bed as well. “I really shouldn’t,” he groaned with no conviction behind his words. I couldn’t hide the disappointment that was clearly written all over my face. “Okay. No problems. Some other time, then.” Neither of us went to move. I made no attempt to close the door and keep the warmth in, and he made no effort to turn

around and walk away. After another strained moment, Joel shook his head in defeat. “Maybe just one glass. It’s Friday, after all.” I stepped back and watched as he walked into my home. Instantly I wished I had cleaned up that afternoon. It wasn’t dirty and uninhabitable, but it was messy. I went to push the catalogues that were covering the entire kitchen counter into some kind of pile when Joel grabbed my hand unexpectedly. “Don’t worry about cleaning up.” His eyes held me captive for a moment longer than they should have. I could feel the warmth of his skin on mine. Forcing the thoughts from my head, I pulled my hand away and rifled around

the kitchen drawer looking for a corkscrew. As soon as I pulled it out, Joel took it and opened the bottle. Unable to just stand there, I made myself busy looking for my best wine glasses. I wanted a pair of glasses, not two that were mismatched. Inwardly I was cursing myself. His house had seemed so grown up and proper, and mine wasn’t even a comparison. It was messy and full of secondhand furniture. The cupboards were lined with photos and knick knacks collected over the years. Some were childhood collectibles while others reminded me of my parents, things I hadn’t been able to part with when I started to throw things out. With the glasses full, I returned to the

lounge and tucked my feet underneath me. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Joel walk around inspecting everything. I sipped my wine as he quietly inspected photo after photo. His eyebrows raised over some while sadness seemed to consume him as he examined others. Part of me wondered if he saw something else in the photos, some pain that was in his own past, but I knew better than to ask. When he sat down next to me minutes later, the silence that consumed us was dangerous. I could feel the sexual tension filling the foot wide gap between our bodies. In an attempt to calm my nerves, I downed the rest of my glass of wine, hoping to take the edge off.

“Need more wine?” I asked, springing off the lounge with overwhelming enthusiasm. I watched in awe as Joel finished his glass in one long pull. “Sure,” he agreed, reaching out and handing me his glass. In the exchange of glasses, the moment our fingers touched, I felt my face turn a beetroot red. I busied myself in the kitchen trying to hide while I pulled myself together. I grabbed a box of crackers and half a slab of cheese and dumped them unceremoniously onto a plate before overfilling the glasses. As I was mopping up the spill with a floral tea towel, Joel called out, “Need a hand in there?”

“No, umm…thanks. I’m fine. Won’t be a second,” I dodged. I took the moment of privacy as a sign. I ran a hand roughly through my hair in a vain attempt to tame it, then tried to straighten my shirt and brush the fluff from it. Walking back into the lounge it was strangely alluring to see that Joel had made himself comfortable in my home. I know I had invited him to do so, but to see him with his shoes kicked off, tie hanging on the arm of his chair, was simply intoxicating. Handing him his wine, I was extra careful to ensure no physical contact was made. If I let myself, I could see us easily back in the same situation as the other morning. “So…” Joel began stuffing his face

with cheese and crackers. “Remind me again why I’m watching this chick flick?” Slightly relieved, I laughed sincerely. Despite the nerves and the erotic fantasies playing in my head, I genuinely like spending time with him. He was fun. He made me laugh. And that was exactly what I needed. “Because this is my house and I control the remote.” “Is that right?” “Yep. My house, my rules,” I said stubbornly. I was trying to be tough, but this was definitely heading for treacherous ground. For a while Joel didn’t say a word. Instead, he just slowly put his glass on

the floor next to him and reached for the throw hanging on the back of the lounge behind our heads. When he spread it over my legs I almost died of shock. He was being so sweet. No one other than my dad had ever been that nice to me without wanting something in return. Quietly he got up, placed his wine glass back in the kitchen, and then stood next to the TV. “I should head home. It’s been a long day,” he admitted, sliding his feet back into his shoes and stuffing his tie in his pants pocket. “Oh, o-okay,” I stammered, unable to hide my disappointment. “I really am sorry, Gillian. I didn’t mean to be such an arse.” “Forget about it. It’s all good.” I

smiled, gaining confidence. “I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon after the exhibition and let you know how it went. Hopefully it will be good news. Just think, you could even have it sold by then,” he said, slipping from human being to real estate agent without even pausing for a breath. “Hope so. At least that will be one less thing to deal with.” As soon as I said it I immediately regretted my choice of words. I had made my life sound like a circus, a million things going on and none of them in my control. I stood up and shuffled to the door, my eyes never leaving my feet. “Well then. Good night, Gillian. Enjoy your movie.”

“Thanks. Have a good night, Joel.” He stuck out his hand and I grasped it firmly. Shaking his hand felt so weird. Barely a week ago he had left black hickies on my neck and shoulders and now he was standing in my doorway, the cold air blasting us both, shaking my hand like we had just completed a very serious business deal. I expected him to shake my hand and simply turn and walk away but he didn’t. The shaking stopped and he just stood there staring at our intertwined hands. When our eyes met I felt the tingling sensation consume my body, the images of last week flashing in my head like a slide show. “Well…good night,” he said, no louder than a whisper.

“You already said that.” “I did, didn’t I?” I nodded and smiled. If he was stumbling over his words, I wasn’t the only one feeling things that were going unsaid. Suddenly he pulled me towards him out on the balcony and into his arms. I melted into them, pushing my body against his. As his tongue entered my mouth I felt myself give in to him. With his hands ravishing me, Joel lifted me off my feet, my legs instinctively wrapping around his narrow waist as he carried me back over the threshold into the lounge.

Chapter Seven As the sun crept through the curtains I rolled away from its awakening glare. My arms and legs were stiff and sore. After spending the night curled up on the lounge floor only meters from my warm,

comfortable and inviting bed, my whole body ached. I looked over at Joel’s perfect face as he snored softly beside me. He looked so peaceful I couldn’t bring myself to wake him. I wiggled slowly out from under his arm and crept into the bathroom. Brushing my teeth, a million thoughts darted about in my head. It couldn’t be a one night stand if it happened twice, could it? Or was the first time a mistake and the second one an apology? I couldn’t help but think I was desperate enough to try to convince myself of anything. I jumped in the shower and tried to force the thoughts from my head instead concentrating on the hot water cascading down my body.

I rushed out of the bathroom and into my bedroom wearing only a towel, hoping not to get caught running around with all my flaws on display. I heard cupboard doors being opened then closed and a gentle humming coming from the other end of the apartment. Rushing, I pulled on the first pair of jeans and jumper I found. As I stumbled into the kitchen I saw something that took my breath away. Joel was standing there in my kitchen, wearing his white business shirt, half the buttons undone and flowing loosely, and a pair of navy satin boxer shorts. Nothing else. He was so sexy in that moment I wanted him again. He was flipping pancakes, and the smell of

coffee filled my home. He looked comfortable, natural, and at ease. I couldn’t help but wonder if he looked that way in every woman’s kitchen or just mine. “Morning.” He grinned, finally spotting me standing there watching him. “Morning.” I smiled back. I felt the complete opposite of when I had done my forgettable walk of shame. I felt full of hope. For the first time since my world had been turned upside down I had hope. “Have a seat,” he invited warmly, pulling the chair out for me. “Fresh pancakes and hot coffee.” As he placed the plate and mug in front of me he popped an unexpected kiss on my

forehead. Stuffing a forkful of pancake in my mouth, I mumbled, “So, what did I do to deserve this?” “It’s a bribe, actually.” My heart sank. No one had ever made me pancakes before, and at the mention of a bribe I felt like they were about to come back up. “Go on,” I invited timidly. “I was hoping that I would be able to…” His face was deadpan. My pulse was racing. My hands were trembling. “…use your shower?” he finished. I wanted to jump the kitchen bench and throttle him. “Only if I can have another pancake,” I teased as he piled more on my plate

then placed his own next to mine. We sat there eating for a while and reading the paper, silently passing the individual sections back and forth between us like a routine. When I found the ad for the unit I couldn’t help but smile. The photo of Joel proudly staring back at me was completely different compared to the less than impeccably dressed man sitting beside me in his underwear. “Thanks for breakfast.” He grinned again, piling the plates in the sink. “Hey, you cooked. Any time you feel like cooking, my door is always open.” As soon as I said it I expected the ground to crack open and swallow me whole. I sounded so pathetic, so clingy. I

was actually being straightforward and honest; if anyone wanted to cook for me they were more than welcome. I hated it. And it wasn’t something that I was very good at anyway. My face flushed and I found myself unable to look at him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…” I began back peddling. Holding his hand up to stop my ranting, he said, “Gillian, it’s okay. I know what you meant.” “I’m sorry.” I shrugged. “Forget it. So, about this shower?” “Absolutely, help yourself.” I was glad to have a moment to compose myself. I had never been this clumsy with my words before, but there was something about his perfectness that

made everything I said come out in a muddled mess. I heard the water running and tried to focus. I picked up my dirty clothes from the previous night and, tossing them in the laundry hamper, I busied myself in the kitchen washing up the dishes and wiping down the counter tops— ordinarily things that would have been done before company arrived, not while they were showering the next morning. “Gillian!” his deep, sensual voice called out from the bathroom. “Coming.” When I reached the bathroom door his head was poking out into the hallway, his body hidden behind the white, wooden door. “What’s up?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“Can I please have a towel?” “Sorry,” I cried out, racing to the laundry to find a clean, non-pink towel he could use. Rushing back to the bathroom, I handed it to him. But gone was his modesty. The door was open and he stood there wearing only a smile. “Thanks.” I tried to back out of the room, struggling to keep my eyes on his face. When I crashed into the wall behind me, Joel let out a deep chuckle that sent tingles all the way to my toes. It sounded good. Even through my embarrassment I managed to giggle, accepting that this was a weird situation. I stood there frozen to the spot, laughing until my

sides hurt. With only a towel wrapped around his slender waist, Joel stepped towards me and my heart raced. When he reached down and took my hand, the laughter died on my lips but continued in my eyes. As his lips touched my neck I gasped, “Don’t you have to work?” “I’ve got time,” he whispered seductively into my ear. And, after homemade pancakes, who was I to turn him down? As he slid his hands under my jumper, my body came alive with goose pimples. I wanted him, and I wanted him now. “Come with me. This time, we do it properly.” Even in his bossy, condescending voice he was sexy. My

jumper never left the bathroom, my jeans made it into the hallway. Barely. The towel alone was unceremoniously discarded in my bedroom door way. An hour later we were both shaken back to reality when his phone began to ring. “Are you going to answer that?” I asked as he ran his finger up and down my stomach. At first the thought of him touching my blubber made me flinch, but the way he did it and the smile on his face the whole time…I couldn’t ask him to stop. When I eventually kicked him out after attempting to iron his shirt, which had doubled as a pillow the night before, I was floating on a cloud. I was happy. He made me laugh and smile and wish

for more. The only thing that left a sour taste in my mouth was the fact that he promised he’d call. If he hadn’t planned on calling me I would rather he just have said good bye, not leave me with false hope. But I was determined not to dwell. If he hadn’t called by Monday with at the very least news about the weekend’s exhibitions, I would speak to his boss. Obviously there was no point trying to have a conversation with Joel face to face. Each time we saw each other we ended up naked. I called Cora and we decided to go for a run. I’m sure she thought I had lost my mind when I suggested such an outof-character thing to do. Usually I was the ‘let’s meet for a cupcake and chat’

kind of girl. But Cora didn’t say anything. She just agreed to meet me by the lake. I’m sure she was waiting to see me before the interrogation started, but on the phone she was nothing but polite. We’d run three of the five kilometers of the track when we collapsed, puffing and panting. Sucking in long deep breaths, we were both hunched over, hands on our knees, gasping for air. For people who didn’t jog, ever, we had certainly decided to push ourselves. “So,” Cora wheezed, “are you going to tell me who or what has got us out jogging on a Saturday morning?” And there it was. The truth, staring at me through hazel eyes. Cora asking me who was making me this person.

Deciding there was no point trying to lie, I told her the truth. We ended up giving up on our run, and camping on a park bench under a tree for a long time just talking about everything. It felt good to confide in someone. I had never done anything like this before, and I wasn’t even really sure what it was that I was doing, but as I said the words out loud, it seemed to make sense. Cora asked a million questions, but not once did I feel judged. Although I’d come clean and told Cora my dirty little secret, I wasn’t ready to tell the others just yet. “Please, whatever you do, don’t tell Rhiannon,” I found myself begging. “You should tell them,” Cora

encouraged, but I didn’t budge. “Not yet. I don’t know what this is and I don’t want to jump to any conclusions and end up being humiliated. The fewer people who know about this, the better.” I was determined. I wasn’t going to end up avoiding everything because I’d made a fool of myself. “Your call,” Cora conceded. “But, for the record, I think you should.” We stood up and walked on in silence. The weight of my decision clearly didn’t sit well with Cora. But I knew she would keep my secret. Reaching the car, we hugged and promised to talk soon before we went our separate ways. Sitting behind the

wheel, I didn’t feel like going home yet, and since I was still sweaty and smelly, shops and restaurants were out. Instead, I climbed back out of the car, finished the water in my bottle, and took off on another lap. Jogging allowed my thoughts to flow in a conscious stream. They weren’t muddled or clouded by interruptions and distractions. All I had to concentrate on was my steady, deep breathing and placing one foot in front of the other. As I rounded the end of the lake and began heading for home, I increased the pace. Pushing myself harder and faster than I normally would, Joel crept into my thoughts, and I wasn’t sure if I was running to forget him or running to

impress him. With my mind elsewhere, I didn’t quite lift my foot high enough and I went sailing to the ground, landing with a thud. Instantly embarrassed, I looked around, making sure no one saw my clumsiness before scrambling to my feet. I dusted my hands off, pretended to ignore the pain in my ankle and knee, and hobbled as fast as I could back to the car. As soon as I could I took off home and jumped into the shower. It felt better. Pain subsiding, humiliation fading, I was okay. Since starting myself on this strenuous exercise regime, I’ll admit I was surprised by the changes in everything. I ate more than I ever had,

but I only wanted salads and veggies. I felt better and I was more confident. After stuffing myself with a crunchy Asian noodle salad, I had a nap on the lounge. After all, I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. When my phone vibrated under my pillow I was shocked awake. Joel was on his way over. He arrived wearing a jumper and sweat pants with a bag of noodles and a bottle of wine in hand. “So, I have news.” He smiled as he breezed through the door, pausing briefly to plant a kiss on the top of my head, almost as if it was a habit. I climbed back on the sofa, my legs tucked up under me, forgetting that I was supposed to try and impress anyone. It

felt good not having to pretend. It was still all new and exciting and I wasn’t sure where I actually stood with Joel. I didn’t want to rush anything, but part of me nervously wanted to know. I remained silent, waiting for the big news revelation, but he said nothing, frustrating me even more. I folded my arms across my chest and pouted dramatically. “Gee, that’s attractive,” Joel said, dangling noodles from high above his head into his mouth. “Like you can talk,” I teased. “So, what’s the big news?” I grunted impatiently, fighting the urge to jump him. He wiped another face full of noodles

away with the back of his hand, I couldn’t help but shake my head in mock disgust. “Well,” he flopped down unceremoniously beside me. “I have an offer for you.” I didn’t say anything; all I could do was raise a quizzical eyebrow. I wasn’t sure what we were talking about any more. “A young couple has put an offer on your apartment. It’s a really good offer. You should at least give it some thought.” His arm draped across the back of the lounge and around my shoulders. “Maybe if you tell me the offer then I can consider it.” For the next few minutes we discussed the offer and what I should do. Joel kept dodging my questions, refusing

to tell me what I should do, saying it would be a conflict of interest. “So, is sleeping with your clients a conflict of interest too?” I inquired as casually as I could. I heard the words come out of my mouth and instantly regretted it. “That sounded so much better in my head,” I added hastily, trying to make light of the situation. Embarrassed, I jumped up off the sofa and backed away. I didn’t want him to touch me. Or look at me. Or even acknowledge my presence. My mouth had a bad habit of allowing words to escape before my brain had finished thinking them through. I hid in the kitchen and although I could hear the deep rhythmic sounds of Joel’s voice, I

couldn’t make out the words. Trapped in the kitchen, I had nowhere to go. There was only one entry to my kitchen and only one exit, which Joel was now blocking. With one hand on his hip and the other high above his head, he leaned invitingly against the door frame. I was captivated. All I could think about was his beautiful body. The humiliation that had consumed me only moments earlier melted and my whole body was rattled. “Are you going to let me actually answer that question?” He smiled, walking towards me. With his breath on my neck the tiny hairs all over my body stood to attention. I tried to side-step away from him,

knowing what would happen if I didn’t, but he blocked me, his hand landing decisively on my waist. I caught myself hoping I had put on half decent underwear when I had got out of the shower instead of the usual granny panties. “I don’t think I want to hear the answer.” As the words rushed from my mouth I was surprised by my honesty. “Well, don’t…” he mumbled, kissing me roughly and urgently. The next six weeks went past in a blur.

Chapter Eight “Who’s the father?” Heidi repeated Rhiannon’s question. I was thankful to Cora because she wouldn’t look at me. She was the only one who knew what I had been doing for

the past couple of weeks. Only Cora knew the truth. She knew why I had blown my friends off for dinners and movies and usually didn’t even bother to return their calls. I knew they were frustrated with me and I couldn’t blame them, but I still didn’t feel guilty enough to confess. “Do you even know?” Rhiannon asked spitefully. Her eyes showed pure disgust and in that moment I hated her. “Of course I know. I’m not some kind of cheap slut,” was all I could offer. I didn’t want to give them a name. Or details. Or any information. I was confused enough by what was happening without trying to answer the million questions that would inevitably come.

“We won’t judge you, Gillian. We love you and we just want to help,” Heidi began. “Does he know yet?” Gulping at the thought of telling him, I felt the tears welling up again. In the past hours I had already pictured every conceivable reaction from him, from the overwhelmingly ecstatic—in which he would sweep me off my feet, confess his love, and the three of us lived in his mansion happily ever after—to the humiliating and degrading—“It could be anyone’s. Just because I have money doesn’t mean you can pin this on me.” When I didn’t answer or even make eye contact with them, Cora thankfully came to my rescue. “She doesn’t have to tell us if she doesn’t want to. When

Gillian’s ready she will tell us what she needs us to know.” Cora reached out and squeezed my hand supportively. “He doesn’t know and until I know for absolute certain that this is what it is, no one else knows either. Okay?” I stared at each of them individually until they reluctantly nodded their heads in agreement. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore either. Until we have to face it, this isn’t an issue.” “Gillian…” “I mean it, Rhiannon. We’re not discussing it.” “Okay, okay. But I just have one favor to ask…” Rhiannon waited. Blinking back tears, I shrugged my agreement. “Can you please go to the doctor first

thing Monday morning? I fucking hate suspense.” Finally I laughed. I had something to laugh at and it felt good. “Sure, I can do that. But only for you.” Joining in the laughter, Rhiannon sprung up from the sofa and jumped on my lap, hugging me tightly. I know she wanted to say something, but her promise only moments ago held her tongue. A silent tear passed over my cheeks; from now on, if the results came back the way I knew in my heart they would, I would never again have a carefree night. The moment that the double blue lines appeared on the stick my life was someone else’s. I was merely the

supporting cast now. As strange as it was, and although the circumstances were far from ideal or my dream life, I knew I didn’t have a choice in that. My life now belonged to the child inside me. Three days later I walked out of the doctor’s surgery more frustrated than when I walked in. He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t even taken my blood pressure or checked my temperature. He had scrawled on a piece of paper and sent me to another building for a blood test. He did manage to charge me eighty dollars for the privilege of his illegible scribble, but he did nothing to reassure me or put my mind at ease. It took almost an hour and forty-five minutes in the waiting room before I was

called to hostile white walled room, where a surly nurse who clearly wanted to be somewhere else poked the needle into my elbow and filled the vials with my blood. Then came the worst part— the wait. I would know nothing more for two days. Add another two days to the three I had already spent completely terrified, and I lived almost a week with a gnawing anxiety growing rapidly in the pit of my stomach. While I waited for the call which would irrevocably change my life I lived like a hermit. I never left the apartment. I didn’t answer texts or phone calls. And when Joel knocked on the door I hid behind the cupboard and pretended I wasn’t home. I needed to be alone when

the call came. Being on my own meant I had time to think about what I wanted. I had already made the decision if I was carrying Joel’s child I would have the baby. I couldn’t go through with an abortion even if that meant raising a child on my own. I would tell him if and only if it turned out that I had something to tell him. But for now it would be my own private torment. It was ten to five on Friday afternoon and my mobile lit up. I didn’t recognize the number, so I timidly answered the phone. “Hello,” I squeaked, no louder than a whisper. “Is this Gillian Dempsey?” “Yes.”

“It’s Tayla calling, from Dr. Johnson’s office. I am calling with your test results.” “Okay.” “Congratulations, Gillian. It seems you are pregnant.” “Oh.” “Excuse me for saying this, but are you all right, Miss Dempsey?” she asked sincerely. “Fine.” “Okay then, I’ll let you get back to your day. You need to make an appointment to see Dr. Johnson sometime next week just to check everything is progressing normally.” She sounded sweet and concerned. I immediately pictured her as a beautiful

old lady with short grey hair and soft hands. She sounded like the type of lady who would spend all day baking cookies for the church bake sale and all night crocheting coat hangers for the local primary school fete. “Okay.” “Have a good afternoon, dear,” she sang sweetly. I heard the line go dead and realized I had made only had one-word answers for the entire conversation. Although I felt guilty for being rude, the words that Tayla said began to sink in. And as reality sank in, panic took over. I was pregnant. I was going to be a mum. In nine months, maybe a bit less, I would be completely responsible for

another human being. A helpless, innocent child relying entirely on me to stay alive. And with those thoughts running through my head, I raced towards the bathroom and retched. Two hours later my bum was numb from the cold tiles and my stomach was empty. I hadn’t cried, though, which surprised me a bit. I thought I would have. It seemed like something I should have done. Mourn the loss of the life that I had, but for some reason I didn’t. I peeled myself from the bathroom floor, splashed cold water on my face, and summoned the resolve to get on with life. I strolled determinedly to the lounge and picked up my mobile. There were already three missed calls on it from

three very eager and nervous friends. They could wait. The dial tone seemed louder than normal in my ear. “Hey,” Joel answered. “I was wondering if I would ever hear from you again. I stopped around to see you last night but you didn’t answer.” “Sorry, I was probably in the bath and didn’t hear you,” I lied. “So, can I see you tonight?” Although this same routine was almost normal to us now, I was still nervous. I had cramps in my stomach and I wasn’t sure if it was from the rumbling or nerves.

Chapter Nine Seven Years Later Joel wouldn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Every morning we danced around each other,

failing to discuss the elephant in the room. Things had changed for us. The life we had wasn’t what we had imagined or even planned. Granted, we didn’t really have time to even make a plan. I still felt robbed of that, but life happens. We couldn’t stop it or even slow it down. Joel and I married when I was six months pregnant with our daughter, Charli. Joel was old-fashioned that way and he refused to bring a child into the world without a wedding ring. In all honesty, the day Joel had dropped to one knee in the middle of a crowded restaurant I would have agreed to anything. I was feeling like a balloon. I was uncomfortable and overly hormonal.

We married in a small intimate ceremony attended only by Joel’s parents and my girls—Heidi, Rhiannon, and Cora. Charli was born at three a.m. on a Tuesday. Joel was by my side through the whole thing, only leaving early to shower and head back to the office. Since I had moved into Joel’s house, he had started working harder and longer, spending more and more time at appointments and out of the house. I tried to talk to him about it but he dismissed my concerns. I was worried I had intruded on his life and run him out of his own home. “Don’t be daft,” he would counter. “It’s your home too. I’m just working really hard now before the baby comes

so that when he or she arrives I can spend more time at home with you two.” It sounded reasonable. When our baby was born I wanted him to be there with us both, so I didn’t say anything. Then Charli was born and nothing changed. He stayed away more than he was there. Hence, it took me by complete surprise when, almost two years after the birth of Charli, we discovered I was pregnant again. Joel seemed to be okay about it, although he didn’t say much. It was a very different pregnancy than the first. I was constantly exhausted. I suppose chasing a two-year-old around all day didn’t help. And my back ached. Joel wasn’t as attentive as he had been

the first time around, but I couldn’t fault his affection and dedication to Charli. He would often sneak away from work early in the afternoon for an hour or two and come home and play with Charli. He played whatever it was that she wanted to play. Some days they watched Wiggles videos and other days they had tea parties with all her dolls. It was the best time of the day for all of us. Charli always squealed with delight as Joel breezed through the door, Joel’s face broke out in a huge, dopey grin and I got a very welcomed rest. Seven months later we welcomed Bianca to our family. I remember clearly the day I brought Charli home from the hospital I had been terrified. My hands

trembled and I was too scared to be alone with her for the first two weeks. What if I did something to hurt her? What if I wasn’t good enough? The hardest part was I didn’t have my own mother to call and ask for advice. None of my girlfriends had kids and I was completely clueless. I was alone. When I brought Bianca home, Joel unpacked the car in the driveway and then sprinted back to work. Luckily his mother was at our place looking after Charli. “Where is Joel?” Adele asked, trying to contain the disgust plastered across her face. “He dropped me off and headed back to work,” I tried to explain, feeling

pathetic as I defended his thoughtlessness. “Gillian?” Adele offered. “I’m fine,” I whimpered, tears welling in my eyes. The truth was I was embarrassed. I had grown used to Joel treating me like this, like I was the one who made his life something he didn’t want it to be. But it was something that was my own private pain. No one else knew about it. No one had even seen this side of our strained relationship and I hadn’t told my girls about it. The truth was, I was embarrassed about letting my life slip into this state. “Gillian,” Adele commanded, taking my hands and sitting me down on the

sofa. “What has been going on around here?” she asked me sweetly. Ever since Joel and I married, Adele had become my pseudo-mum. She knew what I had been through and that I had no family of my own, so she took it on herself to fill the void the best she could. “Nothing spectacular. We are just both really busy. Joel is working really long hours and I am flat out with Charli and now Bianca. But we are okay,” I defended. As I admitted the words out loud, I realized for the first time how bad things had become. We weren’t happy. We weren’t a normal family. At this point I didn’t know if Joel and I were even friends. “I know he is my son and I love him

very much, but if he’s being an ass, it’s okay. You can tell me.” With the offer on the table, I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to tell someone everything I was feeling and facing, but I didn’t. I couldn’t tell Joel’s mother about all the problems with our rushed marriage. “It’s fine. I’m just on hormone overdrive this week. We’ll be fine,” I added hastily. I wasn’t sure if that was an attempt to reassure Adele or to convince myself. Either way, to me it just sounded like more empty promises. As the months passed our beautiful daughters grew and continually surprised and amazed me. But Joel grew more and more distant. No matter what I did or said, Joel just grew angrier and

more aloof. Some nights after I had fed and bathed the girls and they were tucked up safely in their beds, I would sit alone on the sofa sipping a glass of wine in the silence and wait for Joel to come home. I yearned for an adult conversation, something more than Dorothy the dinosaur and fruit salad— yummy yummy. “Why do you always sit in the silence? Turn the TV on or something,” he would snap as he walked through the door. “Your dinner is in the microwave,” I pointed out. “Nah, I already had dinner with some clients.” He would wave his hands dismissively.

Each time we went through this I grew more and more frustrated. I promised myself that next time he wasn’t home for dinner without letting me know I just wouldn’t. But the next time came and I would cook his dinner, and place it in the microwave as expected. The day Bianca turned three, Joel and I received an unexpected shock. I was pregnant again. How it happened must almost be considered a modern miracle. Not only had the communication and affection dried up in our relationship, but by that time it was virtually a sexless marriage. It seemed that when I was awake and in the mood, Joel wasn’t home. And when he was horny, I was asleep or running around after the girls.

“How can you possibly be pregnant again?” Joel spat angrily as I told him one night. He had come home late as usual, but in a worse mood. He wouldn’t tell me what had happened that day; I just had to bear the brunt of his frustration. I had tried to sit him down and tell him the news, but that too had backfired. “We barely even have sex these days! Are you sure it’s even mine?” Coughing at his deliberately hurtful and hateful comment, I climbed off the sofa and walked outside. Inside I was fuming. How could my husband think I would cheat on him? Not to mention where I would find the time or energy to do so? I wanted to scream at him, and

throw things, and generally take out my white hot rage on him. But with the girls in bed, I didn’t want to wake them. Walking away was easier. Stupidly, I thought Joel would follow me out to the yard. Once he realized how hurtful his comments were, I believed he would come after me. After three hours sitting by the pool, I went inside and crawled into bed. Joel was already snoring beside me. When I woke the next morning he was already gone. Pregnant, pissed off, and sick of dealing with his bullshit, I called Adele and asked her to come over and babysit for a couple of hours. When I told her that I was expecting another child she was cautiously delighted.

“How did Joel take it?” she asked nervously. Tired of protecting Joel’s perfect image from his mother, I told her his spiteful words. Clearly shocked by her son’s tantrums, Adele assured me that no matter what Joel said or did, from here on I had her full support. She never even doubted the child I was carrying was her son’s. While the girls enjoyed an exciting morning with Grandma, I went looking for my husband. I knew where he would be but I was tired of how we were. This was going to end now. “Can I sit here?” I asked, pulling out a chair in the cheap café around the corner from the office.

Joel was busy stuffing his face with toast, bacon, mushrooms, and scrambled eggs. When he looked up into my face, I saw him gulp down his food and shake his head silently. “I don’t want to do this, Gillian. Not here. And definitely not now,” he stated firmly, leaving no room for debate. “No,” I countered as firmly as I could. Taking a deep breath, I tried to steel my resolve. “Last night I told you that we’re having another baby and you asked me if it was yours. Why would you even ask that?” I know he could see the pained look on my face and he knew instantly that he caused it. Guilt danced in his eyes, but then it was replaced by something else.

Something I hadn’t seen before. “How could it be mine? We never see each other,” he spat under his breath. “You are the only person I see. Male or female. From the time I wake up in the morning to the time I go to sleep, more often than not alone, the only people I see are Charli and Bianca or your mother. You don’t even bother to come home and spend time with your daughters anymore. Do you hate your family so much that you can’t even bear to be at home with us?” “Is that what you think?” “Yes. And if I’m wrong, tell me why you won’t come home. I know you work, but you can’t call people at ten o’clock at night.”

“I don’t hate you,” was all he offered. Sighing, I felt my resolve weakening. Something was going on with him, and I was desperate not to let him make me feel sorry for him. Everything he was going through was a direct result of choices he made. “What’s going on with you?” I asked, taking his hands in mine. “I just have to work. Don’t you understand that? I have to work long hours and weekends to keep you girls in the life you have. I need to pay for all of the swimming lessons and Wiggles concerts and ballet tutorials. I work so my girls can have everything that you want.” “Well, if that’s the case, sell the house. We don’t need a mansion with a

swimming pool. Or the top of the line cars. What your girls need is their dad. They need to know that he loves them and that he will be there for them. Charli was devastated that you didn’t make it to her ballet recital the other day, and it had nothing to do with you buying her something. She wanted her dad to be there so she knew that he was proud of her,” I tried to explain. “I am proud of them. They’re my girls,” Joel admitted. He looked so miserable. The look on his face showed I was getting him to see what he had done wrong. In trying to provide for his family he had failed to give them the most important thing. “So what about this new baby?” I

asked nervously. I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know his answer, but I had no choice. “What about it?” “What do you think about it? What do you think we should do?” I gushed. The questions dribbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Are you sure we’re in a good position to bring yet another baby into our already hectic life?” “Well, I’m only seven weeks at the moment, so we have options.” I can’t believe I said that. Abortion was not an option for me, and never had been, and here I was giving Joel the choice. “No…no. It’s not that. It’s just I wasn’t expecting to be going through

this. Not again.” For the first time since I had sat down, Joel actually looked at me. He stared at me for a long time, not saying another word. “You know that I didn’t do this on purpose?” Shaking his head, Joel conceded. “I know.” He smiled, lifting my hands to his mouth and kissing them gently. It was the first time in a long time that Joel and I had time to be ourselves. I remembered that first night in the bar, and there we were, seven years later, having our first real conversation in months. “Look, Gillian,” he began, and I knew the moment had passed. “I have to get to a meeting now. But I promise I’ll be

home for dinner tonight, and then once the girls are in bed, you and I can talk. Sound okay?” I shrugged despondently. What could I say? He wriggled into his jacket before bending down and kissing me lightly on the centre of the forehead. “Gillian, you know that I love you, don’t you?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust myself to say anything. Joel smiled again, and his hand came to rest on my stomach. He rubbed it gently, kissed my cheek, and vanished. I watched him walk down the street, frustration bubbling inside of me. I was furious at the way he had dismissed my concerns. He hadn’t even bothered to answer my questions. He had just said

“not now” and walked away. Surely I deserved better than that. I gathered up my things and walked away, slipping my sunglasses on to hide my red eyes. I knew Adele wouldn’t mind looking after the girls for a while. I needed to walk. Take the time to figure out what I wanted. I knew it wasn’t what we had now, but what it was that would make me happy—I had no idea where to even begin trying to figure it out. I wandered down to the lake and started around it. It was a bright sunny day; the breeze was refreshing on my face. The lake was dotted with people rowing, kayaking, and fishing in the shallows. There were kids riding bikes along the edge, dads running nervously

behind making sure there were no falls or spills. I dodged a young lady with blue hair as she zoomed past aggressively on her roller blades. I walked for almost two hours before I made my way back to the car. I had made some decisions about what was going to change. My biggest problem was getting Joel to put his ego aside and listen. The truth was I was afraid of Joel. In all the time we had been together I had only seen him truly pissed off once, and all I had wanted to do then was duck for cover. When Joel was in a bad mood I was petrified. Not just for me, but for my girls as well.

Chapter Ten “Would you keep your bloody voice down? The girls are in bed,” I snarled under my breath. Joel was in the middle of yet another drunken rant. I could barely understand a

word he was saying. He had come stumbling through the door at quarter to ten. He’d missed dinner with his family, but luckily he hadn’t missed drinks with a client. “Don’t you dare tell me to keep my voice down! This is my house. If I want to yell and scream when I come home, I damn well can!” Joel boomed fiercely. “Your house?” “I pay for everything, so yes, it is my house!” “And what do I do?” “That’s a very good question. What the fuck do you do?” “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?” “Do I look like I’m telling jokes here?” he slurred angrily.

“I look after your daughters. It’s not like you’re ever around to do anything for them!” I countered. “I can’t be here! Someone has to work.” Sighing, I found myself softening. “You still don’t get it, do you?” I shook my head. It was the same argument we had been having since Charli’s birth. “They would be happy without the money. We don’t need fancy cars and holidays. Your daughters need their dad. They want their dad. They would be perfectly happy to spend an afternoon in the park down the road just playing on the swings with you. That’s what is important to them.” Staggering towards me, Joel grabbed

a hold of my arm roughly. He squeezed it, instantly making it sting with pain. I tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he held firm. “We don’t all have the luxury of sitting on our fat arses all day. Some people have to work. And my job, that’s the job that keeps you in the lifestyle you had no problems settling into.” We were standing face to face now. Joel’s cheeks were red, his eyes half closed, and the stench of bourbon was heavy on his breath. “Well, I’ll get a job and go back to work and you can stay at home all day,” I offered. I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but if that’s what his big problem was, it didn’t seem like rocket science to make it better.

“Don’t be stupid!” he snapped, releasing my arm and pushing me away from him. I wasn’t expecting the shove, and fell backwards into the corner of the granite kitchen bench. A shot of intense pain seared through my body and I slumped over. “Who the fuck would give you a job?” he continued. He grabbed my chin and forced my eyes to meet his. This time I managed to wriggle out of his grasp. Stepping away from him, I wrapped my arms around my stomach protectively. “I could get a job doing lots of things,” I answered meekly, my resolve faltering under the pressure. The decisions I made earlier were

now just a memory. I wasn’t game to push Joel on anything at the moment. In all honesty, I just wanted this to end. I was praying Joel would give up, go to bed, and just pass out. I didn’t want to talk to him or even be near him when he was drunk. And now was definitely not the time to be making decisions or forcing him into something. “Don’t you get it? No one would hire you. You have no skills and you are nothing!” He was mad. If it was possible, steam would have billowed from his ears. “That’s what you think,” I mumbled under my breath, immediately regretting saying anything at all. Instantly he was back on me, his

hands pinching my collarbones. When he started shaking me violently, I couldn’t help but whimper out loud. Tears were streaming down my face like a waterfall. In the years we had been together, and through all the ups and downs we had faced, Joel had never been physically abusive to me. I had received more than my fair share of emotional abuse, but he had never laid a hand on me. Now I was shaking on my own. My legs were barely holding me up. “Fuck off! You think someone would employ you? For God’s sakes, Gillian, you’re pregnant again. Remember? Who would hire someone that is up the duff?” Tiny bits of spittle flew from his mouth and covered my frightened, tear-stained

face. I didn’t say anything. Things were deteriorating faster than I could have imagined. There was nothing I could say at this point that would make anything better, but I knew that anything I did say would just make it worse. Much worse. Obviously fed up with my lack of fight, Joel pushed me away and I fell to the floor. By this point I was sobbing uncontrollably, cowering on the floor. Joel looked at me, shook his head, and stalked off. With a slam of the door I knew the tirade was over. For tonight, anyway. After a long while I scooped myself up off the floor and stumbled back to the lounge. Staring in the mirror, I saw the

huge red marks already showing on my shoulders. I knew tomorrow they would be deep, blue bruises. Not game enough to go to my own bed, I checked on the girls. Luckily they had slept through the whole ordeal. I returned to the lounge, curled up on the sofa, and cried myself to sleep. I awoke the next morning stiff and sore. I was more bruised than I expected and the night curled up on the sofa didn’t help. The sun wasn’t up yet and the girls were still silent. I padded quietly into the kitchen and made myself a cup of hot chocolate, something I hadn’t had for years, but right now it was the only thing that could make me feel even slightly human.

As I swallowed the last mouthful of chocolate I realized I wanted a shower. I needed one. Dreaming of the hot water cascading over my aching body, I trudged slowly towards our bedroom. I know it was stupid, it was my home and just my husband on the other side of the door, but I was trembling again. I didn’t want to wake him. I shouldn’t have worried. Taking a long, deep, calming breath, I pushed open the door and dared to enter. He wasn’t there. The bed was made but the room was empty. I walked into the en suite and everything was in its place, but no sign of Joel. I don’t know if I sighed in relief or in disappointment. Stripping off, I stared at myself in the

mirror. The marks on my shoulders and wrists were red and irritated. But it was the bruise on my kidneys from the collision with the kitchen bench that was the worst. I took my time in the hot shower, letting the steam fill the room. Stepping out of the shower, I stretched, trying to work the kinks out of my neck and back. I felt better. Not great, but slightly more human. At that point I figured it was as good as it was going to get today. I was sitting on the edge of my bed wearing only my panties and bra, when Charli wandered in. “Hi sweetie.” I smiled, pulling her into my arms. “Mummy, are we going to Grandma’s today?” she asked hopefully.

I heard her words, and reality sank in. I couldn’t see Adele today. She would know. She would see through any lie I told her. “Not today, Charli. Mummy isn’t feeling very well this morning so we might just stay at home, if that’s okay?” Straight away I was overcome by guilt. Already I was letting my cowardice change our lives. I hated myself for it, but it was the best I could do for now. “Are you okay, Mummy?” Charli asked, looking concerned. She placed her hand on my forehead, like she had seen me do before. “Do you remember when Mummy was having Bianca?” “When you got fat?” she asked, with

all the honesty only a child could possess. “Yes, when Mummy got fat. Well, Mummy is having another baby,” I told her. I needed to tell someone and Charli was going to find out eventually. “Would you like a little brother or sister?” “I already have a little sister.” “You might get another one.” Charli looked thoughtful. “No, thank you. I already have to share my toys with Bianca.” I hugged Charli tightly. She was so honest and straightforward. She was really the love of my life. Her beautiful blonde hair was wild and her pink pajamas were all wrinkled. “I need to get dressed. Can you go see if Bianca is

awake and I’ll be out in a minute to get you some breakfast. What do you feel like?” With her hands on her chin, Charli thought hard. “Pancakes,” she announced decidedly. Sometimes she was so much like Joel it was scary. Her decisiveness was a trait stolen straight from her father. “Okay, I’ll make pancakes,” I agreed, watching as Charli skipped animatedly out the door. Hurriedly I pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, taking the time to make sure all the marks were covered. I wasn’t planning on seeing anyone today, but I didn’t want to take the risk of someone unexpectedly showing up and seeing the

bruises. Covered head to toe in pancake batter and sticky maple syrup, due to Charli’s insistence on flipping the pancakes herself and Bianca’s insistence on pouring her own maple syrup, I texted Adele and told her I wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t bring myself to call her. Under her intense questioning, I knew I would buckle. I would undoubtedly say something wrong and she would appear from nowhere, ready to help. It was a full fifteen minutes before the phone buzzed to life, a record for Adele. I was hurriedly trying to clean up Bianca’s sticky hands that she had already managed to run through her mousy brown curls.

“Mum!” Charli squealed happily. “Can I answer the phone?” I already knew who it was. The only person who ever bothered to call during the day—Adele. “Yes, Charli,” I called back, rushing as much as I could. I must have been too occupied trying to listen to Charli’s conversation that I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing. Bianca was now in tears. I had been wiping her face with a face washer and must have rubbed too hard. Now she was crying. I tried to soothe her but she just screamed louder and louder. “Grandma, did you know that Mummy is going to have another baby?” I heard Charli ask excitedly. I didn’t know if I was glad I couldn’t

hear Adele’s response or if I needed it. Scooping Bianca up in my arms, I forgot about her sticky fingers and rushed out to Charli. But I was too late. She was hanging the phone back up on the wall, as I came through the door. “Grandma’s coming over,” she called over her shoulder as she skipped down the hall happily. I didn’t bother to mask the defeated look that consumed my entire body. That was the last thing I needed today, but I knew calling Adele and telling her not to come over would only arouse her curiosity further. I would just go put some makeup on and a long sleeve shirt to hide the red welts on my wrists and I would survive. I had to.

“Great!” I faked, watching as Charli sat down on the floor next to Bianca. “I have to clean up the kitchen before Grandma gets here. Charli, can you please go and get dressed and make sure Bianca gets dressed too?” I called after her. “Yes, Mummy,” she sang, breezing back into the kitchen. I watched with amusement as Charli picked Bianca up from under her arms and half dragged, half carried her towards the bedroom. I cleaned up as quickly as possible and checked on the girls. They were both dressed, albeit in mismatched clothes, and were playing happily on the floor. The Barbie bucket had already been up ended but they were playing quietly.

Bianca was chewing on Barbie’s leg while Charli fought her awkward shaped body into a pair of pants and shoes. Taking advantage of their distraction I raced around the house and tried to get some jobs done. I threw a load of washing in the machine, wiped over the bathrooms, and picked up the toys from the family room floor. I was just boiling the kettle when Adele sauntered through the front door looking like she had just stepped from a magazine. “Gillian,” she sang whimsically. “In the kitchen,” I called back, taking the opportunity to wipe my face, take a deep breath, and adjust my sleeves. Before she was even in the same room, Adele was asking, “Why didn’t

you tell me?” “It’s only just been confirmed. I’m seven weeks. I only found out a couple of days ago. I only had the chance to tell Joel last night,” I admitted. I had learnt long ago that there was no point lying to Adele, she always knew. I don’t know if it was a motherly instinct that she had developed over the years or just a sixth sense when it came to Joel’s shortcomings. Adele hugged me tightly, stroking my hair as she did. Without knowing it, she had inadvertently pressed down on my aching shoulders and squeezed my kidney bruise. I must have let out an involuntary gasp, causing her to jump back, still holding my hand.

“What is it, dear?” she asked sweetly, sounding older than she was. Adele had soft, delicate features that were always looking their best. She was always perfectly manicured and pedicured. She enjoyed weekly facials and I had never seen her without her hair styled and makeup impeccable, not even when she had shown up at the hospital in the middle of the night to pick up Charli the night Bianca had been born. “No…no, it’s nothing, really. Just a bit squeamish, that’s all,” I lied. “Must be a boy, then!” she exclaimed happily. “You had barely any morning sickness with the girls. When are you due?” “Doctor says I’m due on October

thirteenth.” “Libran, then.” It always amazed me how someone so prim and proper, someone who appeared at all the right functions and knew everyone there that was worth knowing, was so into star signs and astrology—something I neither knew nor cared much about. Without another word, I sprang up, ran down the hallway, leapt over Bianca halfway down the hall, and made it to the bathroom. Just. Afterwards, I clung to the toilet bowl, panting and sweating, my head resting on the cool porcelain. I was dizzy from dehydration and already exhausted. I hadn’t even made it to lunch time yet.

“Gillian, are you okay in there?” Adele called out through the door. “Fine, thanks. I’ll just be a minute,” I said, wiping my face with the back of my sleeve. “Can I get you anything?” she offered generously. I knew that if I asked for anything, Adele was just the sort of person who would have moved heaven and earth to accommodate. “I’m fine. I just need a second,” I replied, dragging my lethargic body from the floor. When I looked in the mirror I didn’t like the person I saw staring back. Even after splashing cold water on my face I was still a ghastly shade of white. My eyes were outlined by dark, unhappy

circles under my eyes. I pulled at my shirt and saw the marks on my shoulders. The nasty, dark, and definite finger indentations that covered them. Right in that moment, I was a battered wife. The doorbell rang unexpectedly and I felt myself jump. “Do you mind getting that for me?” I called out. “Absolutely,” Adele returned helpfully. I hurriedly adjusted my jumper, brushed my teeth, and hustled out the door. As I emerged from the hallway, I heard Charli squeal with delight, “Wow! They’re pretty! Who are they for, Grandma?” “They’re for your mum.” Intrigued, I sped up and made my way

into the lounge room. As I walked towards the chaos, I saw Adele closing the door a huge bunch of white oriental lilies in her arms. She looked up and saw me flashing a perfect smile. “Someone’s a lucky girl.” She smiled as she handed me the huge bouquet. I took the flowers, inhaled deeply before pulling the card from the middle. Turning it over in my hands, I forced myself to open it. Congratulations, Beautiful. I look forward to welcoming our new baby to the world with you.

Without hesitation I burst into tears, dropped the flowers on the tiles, and slunk to the floor. Silently Adele picked

up the flowers and read the card. She finished reading and looked directly at me. “What the hell did he do to you this time?”

Chapter Eleven After three gut-wrenching hours of tears and explanations, and even a visit to the doctor to check on my bruises, I was exhausted and just wanted to collapse. But Adele wouldn’t hear a

word of it. She kicked me out of my own house. She dropped two hundred dollars cash into my sweaty, shaky hand and told me to get out and relax. “It’s not about you, Gillian. I’m taking care of my newest grandchild. You, my dear,” she started, her hands on my cheeks, “You need to go out and have some time out. Forget everything that has happened and just go out and have a laugh. Go shopping, go to the movies, and meet a friend for coffee. Do whatever it is you feel like; just go have some time for you.” “But the girls…” “I am quite capable of looking after my granddaughters for the afternoon. And I will deal with Joel when he gets

home.” Her tone had an air of disgust about it. I had never wanted to tell Adele what happened. And I definitely had no intentions of telling anyone else. But when she tried to help me up off the floor she had seen not only the marks on my wrists but also the welt on my back. After that, any lie I even attempted she dismissed with a wave of her hand. And I had caved. “I’ll be home before Joel gets here,” I said with as much determination as I could muster. “I’ll call him and get him home earlier. I need to have a very serious conversation with my son,” Adele announced defiantly.

“Please Adele…please just leave this one alone. I’ll talk to Joel when I see him. There is no need…” “No need! I raised my son better than that. He should never have laid a hand on you…” “I know. Adele, I know.” I tried to placate her. “But this one is between Joel and me. We’ll work it out.” Sighing heavily and shaking her head with disappointment, she said, “Gillian, I am his mother. And I will talk to him about this. But I don’t want you to worry about anything. Go! Relax! I’ll see you later this afternoon. Go! Enjoy yourself!” She smiled and gave me one final push out the door. Once I was outside I was even more

lost and confused than before. I stumbled towards the car, climbed in, and started to drive. I didn’t know where I was going, but the further I drove the more enraged and annoyed I became. I messaged Heidi to see if she had some spare time to catch up. School would be finishing soon so she would be free for the day. I took myself up to Regatta Point and settled at an outside table overlooking the lake. The pimple-faced waiter managed to spill my water all over the leg of my pants. My day was going from bad to worse. After placing my order as quickly as I could I sent him away. I didn’t want him to see me cry. Dabbing at my eyes with the starched white

napkin I realized how pathetic I had become. Crying in public, ashamed of who I was, I had become a stranger to my friends. And, more embarrassingly, I was a stranger to myself. I didn’t even know who I was anymore when I wasn’t being Charli and Bianca’s mum. Let alone what I liked. I sat there absentmindedly sipping my coffee. I was staring off into space when Heidi arrived. “Earth to Gillian!” she teased, easing herself into the chair opposite me. “Hi,” I said, absently pulling at my jumper, ensuring that my wrists were covered. I had no intention of telling Heidi what had happened with Joel. I just wanted to have an afternoon of

escapism. “So, what’s going on?” she asked as the pimple-faced waiter reappeared and took her order before disappearing into the bowels of the restaurant. “Not a lot. Adele is babysitting for the afternoon and she kicked me out to have an afternoon off. So here I am.” “And here I am. It’s so good to see you, Gillian. It seems like forever since we got you to ourselves,” Heidi said honestly. I instantly felt guilty. I knew I had been neglecting my friendships but I couldn’t see any other way. By the time I looked after my girls, kept the house clean and organized, it seemed like I didn’t have time for anything else. With

Joel working as much as he did, these days I was basically a single mother. “I’m so sorry, Heidi,” I began, feeling like I should be apologizing. “For what?” “For everything. Not being around. Not having time to be there, or go anywhere, or do anything. I feel like I’ve been neglecting everything and everyone,” I admitted painfully. “Don’t be silly, Gillian. We understand. You have two beautiful girls. Of course they come first. And so they should. Gillian, you’re a mum.” “But I don’t even know what’s going on with you these days…” “Of course you do. I’m teaching kindergarten. I’m still seeing Rowan.

We’ve been together about eighteen months now. Other than that, nothing much has changed.” Heidi looked at me with wide sad eyes. I don’t know if she was disappointed that nothing had changed or maybe it was my own reflection that I could see was miserable. But there was something in her tone that made me think that Heidi knew exactly how I was feeling. Forcing my own dark thoughts from my mind, I encouraged, “How are things going with Rowan?” “Really good I guess. We’ve had a few discussions about moving in together, but nothing ever seems to come of it. I think he likes the fact he can get

away from me when he wants to. But we’re doing okay. Both working pretty hard, so we fight a bit because we’re tired all the time, but I’m sure you know all about being wiped out. How are the girls?” she deflected. I was impressed by her honesty. Heidi was obviously disappointed with her relationship, but hanging in there. I could tell that she wasn’t overly happy, but it was better than being alone. “The girls are good. They argue and fight, but we cope. Bianca is sleeping through the whole night in her own bed now, which is a blessing. For a while there, she wouldn’t sleep unless she was in our bed, but thankfully she’s back in hers now.” Focusing on Bianca and

Charli kept me from saying anything about Joel. Sipping her decaf skim latte, Heidi looked like she wanted to say something, but instead drank her coffee. I recognized her avoidance, because it was something I did regularly. “Have you heard from the others? How are Rhiannon and her lecturer? That lasted longer than I would have guessed,” I asked, hoping for an afternoon of mindless gossip. “Well, I saw Rhiannon last week and she was going to move in with Luke in the next week or so. He left his wife. Can you believe it? Now that he’s no longer her teacher, their relationship no longer has to remain a secret. We’re

even allowed to meet him in the next couple of weeks, or so she says,” Heidi began excitedly. It was so much easier to talk about someone else’s life than admit what was wrong with your own. Even I was more eager to gossip about someone else than think about my own issues. “That’s surprising. They have been together for ages and now, finally, we’re allowed to meet him. I was beginning to think she was embarrassed by us. It was either we embarrassed her or he was imaginary.” I laughed. “Nah, I think it was just the whole he could lose his job if anyone found out thing that kept it so secretive.” Heidi laughed.

She had grown more beautiful as the years had passed. Together with her teaching and Girl Guide duties, Heidi spent a lot of time at the gym. She was the fittest person I knew and every year she was a serious competitor in the annual City to Surf fun run to Sydney’s beaches. I could never work out how running could be fun, but for some unknown reason Heidi loved it. “Any news from Cora?” I asked nervously. Cora and I hadn’t spoken in almost twelve months. It had started as a silly argument that just never ended. I was tired; Bianca had colic and wouldn’t sleep. I had been running from doctor to specialist and back trying to find out

why she wasn’t putting on weight and why no matter what I did the colic wouldn’t pass. Cora needed a favor and I simply couldn’t fit it in. Hurtful words were said and then life got in the way. After I calmed down I had meant to call and apologize and make things right, but every time I went to, something else happened. Weeks became months and by then it was too far in the past, I rationalized. I knew it was stupid and I should just call and make it okay, but I couldn’t. I was embarrassed that it had taken too long. “I got an email from her last week. She’s living just north of Oxford working in a hotel. She lives in the attic there, rent free, so she’s pretty stoked

with that. She works ten days on then four days off. It sounds like pretty much every time she gets a couple of days off in a row, she takes off somewhere for an adventure. She went to Ireland not that long ago and this weekend she was heading to Scotland for a couple of days.” “Sounds exciting,” I had to admit. Part of me was jealous. It would be such an adventure to travel around the world, seeing everything, trying anything. “Have you heard from her?” “No,” I said, unable to look Heidi in the eye. “You should email her. I’m sure she would love to hear from you.” “I don’t know.”

“You can’t let this go on forever, Gillian. It’s already been going on way too long and it’s over nothing really. Just talk to her.” “I’ll think about it.” “Don’t think. Just do it. It’s not worth it.” I didn’t say any more about it. I didn’t know what to say. Heidi was right. I was embarrassed. I should email Cora. Or call. Or text. Or something. She could be the one I could talk to about what was going on with Joel without any repercussions. She wasn’t close enough to do anything or make it harder than it already was. “How are things with Joel?” Heidi asked at point blank range.

I squirmed in my seat and downed what remained of my coffee. “Okay,” was all I offered. Again, I pulled at my jumper, instantly thinking that the sleeves had crept up and she had seen my wrists. “Gillian?” I was caught. Heidi had seen through my pathetic attempt at lying. I signaled for the waiter and ordered another coffee and the largest slice of chocolate mud cake I could. “I’m pregnant again,” I blurted out as Heidi stared at me. “My God…No wonder you need time out. Were you even trying for another one?” she asked pointedly. “No.” “Oh.” The waiter returned with my cake and

coffee and just as he was about to walk away again, “I’m going to need a piece of cake too. A big piece,” Heidi ordered. “What did Joel say?” “Let’s just say he was less than thrilled,” I admitted. It was so easy to tell the truth to Heidi. And the whole truth. I wasn’t embarrassed or trying to protect him. Heidi had been there in the beginning, and I knew that she would be there in the end. No matter what happened. “Hang on a second.” Heidi smiled, holding up a finger. I watched in silence as she dug through the biggest handbag I had ever seen. She dug out her phone, quickly sent a text, before tossing it back in her bag

and turning back to her cake. With a mouthful of mud cake, Heidi announced, “Finish your cake and don’t tell me anymore. We’re meeting Rhiannon at her apartment in fifteen minutes.” “Heidi!” “No!” she said more forcefully than I had ever heard her speak before. “Something is definitely up! I can see it on your face. And around your wrists. We need Rhiannon.” I was mortified. I was being so careful not to admit the truth and hide it from everyone, when it was written all over my face anyway. “Heidi, it’s not what you think,” I tried to lie. As the lie passed my lips, I felt my

world crumble. Who was I kidding? It was as bad as it sounded. My life was nothing like the one that I had wanted. I stuffed mouthfuls of cake into my mouth. So much that I struggled to even close my mouth when I chewed. Heidi pulled some cash from her purse, dropped it on the table, took my hand, and half dragged me from the restaurant. I didn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say. I was defeated. Heidi basically threw me into the front seat of her car and before I knew it we were speeding through the car park on our way to Rhiannon’s. “I…I don’t want to do this,” I confessed. “I’m just tired and Joel’s overworked. And we weren’t expecting to have another child.

We hadn’t even discussed having another baby. So it shocked us, that’s all,” I tried to rationalize. “Well then, tell me what happened to your wrists?” she asked, not even looking me as she dodged in and out of the peak hour traffic. “Nothing.” “Do you know how I know that you’re lying? ’Cause you are a bad liar.” Heidi’s face showed no compassion. She didn’t even look like the Heidi I knew and loved. She was angry and determined. A moment later, after cutting off three cars who tooted their horns at us in anger, we screeched into a vacant car space at the front of Rhiannon’s building.

She lived in a two bedroom apartment on the eighth floor. She had bought the apartment a couple of years ago, brand new. It came with all the luxuries one could want. The complex contained its own bar and café, gym, and indoor swimming centre. Heidi pressed the buzzer for Rhiannon’s apartment and instantly the door sprung open. We ducked into the lift and in silence we watched the numbers climb. I didn’t look at Heidi and she didn’t look at me. Silently, we crept along the corridor. Without knocking, Heidi pushed opened the door and let herself in. Rhiannon was in the kitchen, tea towel in her hand. There were no pleasantries. Instead,

as soon as Rhiannon saw me come through her door, she looked and me and asked, “What the fuck is going on, Gillian?”

Chapter Twelve Joel “Mum, I don’t really have time for personal calls at the moment. I’m right in the middle of something,” Joel said,

annoyed as he answered the phone. “I don’t really care what you think you do and don’t have time for. You need to get your arse home now!” Adele commanded. For a prim and proper woman, she could be very persuasive when she wanted to be. “I have back-to-back appointments until after eight tonight. I’ll be home when I finish,” Joel countered. He could just be as stubborn as his mother. “No, Joel. You will come home right now! Flowers won’t fix this,” she advised. Joel gulped. His mother was at his place. She knew about the flowers, which meant there was a very strong chance she knew why he sent them. He

was in the shit. Deep shit. “Let me see what I can reshuffle,” he said quietly. “Home within the hour,” Adele snapped forcefully before hanging up. Joel swore and cursed. His day was getting worse by the second. He already had a shocker at work, even telling his boss exactly what he thought of him, landing him a meeting with the CEO the following day. Joel knew that it didn’t matter how good a salesperson you were, there were some lines that, if crossed, were a sure way to prematurely end your career. He may just have jumped the line and kept running. He leant back in his chair, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. He couldn’t think

of anything worse than going home and facing his mother, but the longer he put it off, the worse it would get. Joel had been in enough fights with her over the years to know the more time he gave her to stew in her rage, the worse it grew. Sighing heavily, Joel took off the headset and tossed it on his desk before shutting down his laptop, grabbing his car keys, and heading for the door. “Where the hell do you think you’re going now?” Joel’s boss snapped. He was already pissed off at Joel’s confrontational outburst earlier on. Joel was getting not an inch. “Home,” Joel barked. “You have work to do. Get back to it.”

“No. I can’t. My mother just called and something’s going on with the girls. I have to go home.” He backtracked as fast as he could. He had used the kids for a million different excuses and each time it had worked without question. Joel just prayed it wouldn’t fail him this time. “Whatever…just hurry up and get back here! You haven’t even made a sale in the past three months. If you don’t make one soon you’re going to have bigger problems than your daughter breaking a fingernail,” he snorted, storming back into his office and slamming the door to make a point. In the car on the way home Joel drove too fast, too erratically. He almost caused three accidents in only five

blocks. The stereo was up full blast, and he sang along loudly, working out his frustrations on the steering wheel as he pounded along with the beat. Less than ten minutes later, with a screech of the Audi’s tires, Joel came to a halt at the top of his driveway behind his mother’s champagne colored BMW X5. He hadn’t even made it to the front door before the tirade began. Adele was waiting, arms folded across her chest, and she didn’t even bother to try to hide the incredulous expression on her face. “What? What the hell was so important that you call me at work and demand that I come home? I’m not twelve anymore. You can’t just make these demands. And I am not going to

just drop everything and…” Joel didn’t even get to finish his rehearsed speech. “Joel Jacob Matthews, don’t you dare talk to me in that tone. You have no idea what you have really done. Get inside,” Adele commanded, her brows furrowed. Joel looked at his mother. He’d seen her angry before but never this pissed off. She looked like she was about to throw him over her knee and beat him like he was a five-year-old. And when she summoned him by his full name, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sweet talk his way out of this one. He slunk into the lounge room, head down, a scowl on his face. Adele followed him in without a word. Silently she checked on the girls and wiped

Bianca’s runny nose. After making sure they were okay, Adele gently closed the bedroom door, not wanting her granddaughters to hear what was about to be said. Adele strode purposefully back into the lounge and sat opposite her son. He was nervous. He had already undone the top button on his shirt and loosened his tie, sweat beads gathering on his top lip. “Well?” he asked smartly. “Don’t you have something that you would like to explain to me?” “Not particularly.” “Don’t be smart with me, Joel. I am still your mother and what you’ve done is completely unacceptable. Do you get that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Okay, well, maybe you can start by telling me how your wife got the marks and bruises on her shoulders, wrists, neck and back,” Adele invited, steely cold. “That’s between us, Mum. It’s none of your concern,” Joel spat back defiantly. Adele took a deep breath, sighed heavily, and looked at her son. She barely recognized the angry man sitting in front of her. He seemed so lost and alone. Adele understood that Joel’s life hadn’t turned out the way he had envisaged. He had never wanted the wife and kids, especially so early in his life. But he had them. Now he had to

deal with it. “Joel, what happened to you? Why are you so angry with everyone? Including me?” Running his hands through his hair, Joel was defeated. His head dropped sadly into the back of the sofa. Joel stared longingly at the ceiling, searching for answers. “Why can’t everyone just get off my case? I work hard to give my girls everything they could possibly want. Gillian has everything that she wants. I don’t know why she has to bitch and moan all the time.” “I raised you to be smarter than that,” Adele sighed, shaking her head. Joel looked at his mother, bewildered. “What are you rambling on about

now?” “Your daughters and your wife—they don’t need your money. They need you. Gillian needs you to be her husband. Her partner. Her lover and her best-friend. Not her bank account. And your daughters, Joel, they just need you to be there. They barely know you. And that’s your fault. You need to spend some time with your girls. Take them to the zoo. Play Barbies with them. They won’t care what it is. Just be a part of it.” “I’m trying, Mum, I’m trying.” Joel collapsed. A twisted, crying mess, Joel twitched. Satisfied, Adele held her son. For a long time not a word was said. They just sat in silence, Joel sobbing in the safety of his mother’s arms.

A screech brought the silence to an abrupt end. “I should go and check on them,” Adele went to move. “I’ll go,” Joel said, jumping to his feet, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and disappearing down the hallway. As soon as Joel had vanished Adele felt guilty. She had pushed and pushed her son until he had completely broken down. Silently berating herself, she sat and waited for him to return. After half an hour, when Joel still hadn’t reappeared, Adele went looking for him. Stepping into the rumpus room, an unexpected smile consumed her. Joel’s tie was wrapped tightly around the teddy bear’s neck and Joel sat cross legged on the floor, Bianca balanced in his lap,

having a tea party with every doll and teddy in the house. Not wanting to interrupt such a special moment, Adele ran down the hallway before she was spotted and began wading through the mountain of washing.

Chapter Thirteen Gillian “What the fuck is going on, Gillian?” Rhiannon demanded as the door slammed closed behind me.

“Rhiannon, just back off,” Heidi instructed, pushing me forwards. As soon as I was inside I was overcome with not only guilt but also fear. I hadn’t seen Rhiannon’s apartment since she moved in. It was the sort of apartment that everyone wanted. A grown up apartment. Tastefully decorated with suede beige lounge chairs and white kitchen cabinets without the tiny handprints covering them. Everything was immaculately spotless, but it had its own place. I felt bad that even years after Rhiannon had moved into this light and airy place, with a view of the lake, I had never seen it. “This is stunning,” I exclaimed honestly, taking in the breathtaking view.

I didn’t want to sit down. I wanted the grand tour, to see the rest of a grown-up apartment. Secretly I was dying to see the bathroom. For some weird reason, bathrooms fascinated me. The things that they could do with tiles. It just made everything look clean and new and fresh. With her arms crossed angrily across her chest, Rhiannon was seething. “God, Gillian, enough! Heidi doesn’t send me a desperate text saying you’re coming to see me now if something pretty huge isn’t up.” “What the hell do you want from me, Rhiannon?” I snapped. “The truth. For once, Gillian, just tell us what’s going on with you. Let us help you. All you have to do is tell us how.”

I looked at Heidi, who just shrugged helplessly. I stared at my two best friends in the whole world, my family, and I cracked. Suddenly my world started spinning. I felt sick. Something wasn’t right, I knew it wasn’t, but I wasn’t really sure what was wrong. I never got the chance to figure it out. The next thing I knew I was lying on Rhiannon’s lounge, a wet washcloth on my forehead. Heidi was trying to feed me orange juice through a straw. I tried to stand up, but Rhiannon forced me back down. “What is wrong? Let me up.” My head was foggy and I wasn’t feeling very well, but I was still okay. The spinning sensation was still there and out of

nowhere I was exhausted, more tired than I ever remembered being before. “Gillian!” Heidi snapped. “Shut up, lie there, and talk to us. You just collapsed unconscious on the tiles, so stop being so damn stubborn and for once do as you are told. Just stay there, please.” After a while I noticed Rhiannon. She was standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip the other clutching a can of Diet Coke. She stared at me with sad bewildered eyes. Then as meekly as a mouse, Rhiannon asked, “Gillian, how did you get the bruises on your back?” Humiliated, I began mumbling and tugging at my top. “But how did you… how do you…” I knew I was only

rambling to try and buy myself some time to think of a plausible lie. It was bad enough that Adele knew the truth, but Rhiannon and Heidi really didn’t need to know. Too many people knew already. “When we picked you up your shirt rode up. Gillian. We love you, but you’re covered in disgusting black and blue bruises. They’re on your neck and your shoulders and your wrists. My God, Gillian, what happened to you?” Heidi asked. “Please let us help you. For once, just stop being so damn stubborn. Stop trying to deal with this on your own. We can help you. All you have to do is let us.” Looking into my neglected friend’s

face, I burst into tears. Instantly my nose was running, my eyes were blurry, and I was struggling to breathe between sobs. I cried openly and honestly for a long time. I felt like I couldn’t stop. There was just too much pain and misery behind my tears. Nothing could stop them from coming, nor even slow their flow. After what seemed like a lifetime, I sucked in a deep breath, ran my fingers through my hair, rubbed at my eyes, and looked up again. They hadn’t moved. Not even an inch. Heidi and Rhiannon were still sitting there beside me, patiently waiting for me to pull myself together. “You okay?” Rhiannon asked,

squeezing my shoulder supportively. With all the energy I had left, I nodded. “So?” Heidi enquired timidly. Gulping back more tears I confessed everything. I told them about how, after Charli was born, Joel and I grew so tired we barely had time for each other anymore, and then how after Bianca was born the cracks in our already fragile marriage just became too wide to hurdle. How the long hours Joel was working were making him crazy. Eventually I got to the part where I told him I was pregnant again and he blamed me for the long hours he had to work. He confessed that it was my fault he never got to see his family because I was too lazy to work. I surprised even myself when I

told them about him pushing me across the kitchen and crashing into the corner of the kitchen bench and the horror that had followed. Once the barrage started spewing forth from my mouth, there was nothing I could do to stop it. By the end of it, Heidi was a blubbering mess, Rhiannon was the angriest I had ever seen her, and I was just drained. But the emptiness inside me wasn’t a bad thing. It was as if the private hell I had been enduring for so long suddenly didn’t seem that bad. I had someone to share it and help me through it, to take away some of the hurt and anger and bitterness. Someone with new insight and a different way of looking at things.

There was something comforting about Heidi and Rhiannon in that moment. I had been a bad friend—I would be the first to admit it and the last to deny it—but suddenly everything seemed different. All the years of neglect that I had put them though, all the times I had bailed on dinner or cancelled last minute on catching up, even all the text messages and emails that I had forgotten to return didn’t seem so bad anymore. The guilt that I had been carrying around, promising myself that one day I would make things right again, it all just seemed to simply vanish. After a very well timed hug, a few tears, and a collection of expletives, the bond between us was stronger than ever. And

that gave me not only the strength to start but also the hope to win. After an hour I collected up my things. “I’m so sorry. I have to go. Adele will be going mad with the girls by now. I better go and save her.” I hugged each of them tightly. Heidi squeezed a bit too tight and I let out an involuntary gasp of pain. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Rhiannon questioned again. “Yeah. Just some deep bruising, nothing to worry about. It will be fine in a couple of days. It looks worse than it really is,” I admitted, tugging at my shirt protectively. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me what was wrong with me. This wasn’t my first rodeo.

I had barely gotten out the door before they surrounded me in the gentlest and warmest hug I had received in a long time. Straining to hold back my tears, we stood there for a long time in the warm, silent embrace. “You know where we are if you need us,” Heidi reminded me again. “And there is always a spare bed for you and your girls if you need it,” Rhiannon added. “You sure you don’t want me to drop you back at your car? It’s no trouble, really.” “Thanks, but the walk will help clear my head.” I kissed them both again and jumped in the elevator back to the ground floor. And back to reality.

Walking alone along the footpath, the sun setting behind a city of skyscrapers, there was a chill in the air. It was normal in Canberra; a beautiful day, and then the moment that the sun vanishes all the warmth is gone. The cool breeze made the tips of my ears sting and my nose run. But it was exactly what I needed. As I watched my breath condense in small, fluffy white clouds in front of my face I tried to prepare myself for what I would find when I got home. Would Adele be pulling her styled hair out? Would Joel even be there? Would the house still be standing or buried beneath a Barbie mountain? With a million thoughts in my head, I couldn’t help it. I walked slowly. I reached my car and, as the engine

sputtered to life, the clock in the dashboard lit up, revealing the time. I knew I had been gone a long time, I just didn’t realize how long. It was already past seven. I should have cooked dinner by now and be getting the girls ready for bed. Silently cursing myself for being so selfish, I pushed my way into the evening traffic across the bridge and headed home. Minutes later I pulled into the driveway and was shocked to see Joel’s car parked there. Once the shock wore off, the fear took over. Joel’s car was there, but Adele’s wasn’t. She’d called Joel. He had come home. Now I’d have to face him. I knew it was coming. Of course I

would have to face him sometime. We lived together. We shared a bed together. A life together. Children together. Even if we wanted to end this, we would never be able to just walk away. I would always be a part of Joel’s life and he would be a part of mine. As that realization sunk in, I took a deep breath, slung my handbag over my shoulder, and marched to the front door deliberately. As I pushed open the handle I couldn’t believe what I saw.

Chapter Fourteen I didn’t realize I was holding my breath as I stepped over the threshold and into my home. Joel saw me come through the door and with a wide, warm smile, he greeted me the moment he

spotted me. Honestly, I was frightened by what I saw. The table laid before me was immaculate. A perfectly pressed black satin tablecloth with red napkins and silver napkin rings. Two long silver tapering candles stood in the middle of the table, their flames flickering about with wild abandon. I couldn’t control it. Without thinking of the consequences I found myself blurting out, “What’s all this about?” “It’s an apology and a celebration.” “That’s an odd combination.” “Well, I guess I should start with an apology for last night. I should never have said the things that I did. And pushing you. You didn’t deserve it. I was out of line,” Joel began, the expression

on his face full of sadness and remorse. I knew him well and I could see the pain in his eyes. Joel was hurting and secretly I was pleased that he was. His apology was sincere and from the heart, not forced from his lips by his mother. Instinctively I tugged at my sleeve, making sure the bruises were hidden from sight. If Joel was feeling bad, I wasn’t going to dig the knife in any more than it was already lodged. But Joel saw me do it. He reached out and took my hands in his. My hands were trembling and clammy. I wished they weren’t, but it was an uncontrollable reflex. As much as it killed me to admit it, it was the best feeling I had felt in a long time. The tenderness in his touch made an all too

familiar heart flutter return. Something I hadn’t felt in years. Joel rolled back my sleeves ever so gently. With one look at my wrists he dropped my hands and jumped back, aghast. “Gillian!” Joel exclaimed as he continued backing away from me until he stepped on a Barbie doll and stumbled, cursing under his breath. Terrified by the look on his face, I didn’t know what to say. Inside I was still furious at what had happened. I know he’d apologized and he was honestly sorry for doing it, but the fact that he could actually do it bewildered and petrified me. Cautiously I stepped towards him. “Joel?” “Gillian, I am so sorry I hurt you. I

don’t know what’s gotten into me. Please, join me for dinner,” Joel offered honestly, pulling out my chair before serving the plates and pouring wine. For a long moment we sat together in silence, sipping wine and nibbling at our dinner. It was a strained silence that hung between us. I was too frightened to say something that either of us would regret later. It was a truce. Somehow we’d agreed to a reprieve without words. I wasn’t sure when or where we’d learnt it, to speak without words, but somewhere in the silence I heard him reassuring me. Then suddenly, without warning, Joel began coughing and spluttering. Grabbing at his throat, he coughed and

hacked and gagged. Without a word I jumped up and was hitting his back, willing him to breathe again. Moments later the drama subsided and Joel slumped back in his chair, breathing deeply. Sipping at his wine, Joel confessed, “When you first told me that you were pregnant again I was so blinded by all the dark thoughts in my head. I couldn’t see any good coming from having another child. We are already so lucky with our two beautiful daughters I didn’t want anything to ruin it. And you and I, well, we don’t really even know each other anymore. I have been so consumed with work we never get to spend any time together. Just us. Doing the things

that we like. If we ever do see each other, it’s either in passing or we are meeting out the front of a ballet performance for Charli or at Bianca’s parent-teacher evenings. I don’t even remember the last time you and I just hung out together.” I couldn’t disagree with him. I couldn’t even remember what we thought was fun. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I wondered if Joel and I had ever actually had fun. In my memory Joel and I had a couple of crazy nights of passion and then responsibility kicked in. Since that moment our lives hadn’t been our own. “Joel, I want to ask you something. And I need you to be honest with me. At

the very least you owe me that much.” “I owe you that,” he agreed, his eyes betraying his defeat. I dropped my knife and fork on the plate with a ding. For a long time I had wanted to ask, but I had always been too afraid. It was something that had played on my mind for years. The words had danced on the tip of my tongue the day of our wedding. When the celebrant asked if anyone objected, the thought crossed my mind to ask Joel then, but it didn’t seem the right time. And every day since, it still never seemed the right time, but now time had beaten me. If we were going to make it, now was the time to ask for the cold hard truth. “Did we ever have fun? Were we ever friends?

Or was I just a fling that trapped you?” In the silence that followed I was almost paralyzed. Right there, in that moment, I wanted nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I wished I’d kept my big mouth shut, but now it was out there. I couldn’t take it back. Joel looked appalled. I couldn’t read him. I don’t know if he was dismayed by the fact that I had asked my question aloud or if he was disgusted. But I was too stubborn tonight. Spending time with my girls had made me realize that I deserved more. I deserved to be loved and treated with respect. Not only for me, but for my kids as well. And on the drive home, I had made a promise to

myself that no matter what happened next, no matter what Joel said or did, Bianca and Charli would not grow up in a home filled with hatred and bitterness. “Is that what you really think?” he asked through pained, tortured eyes. I felt myself turn bright red. I was ashamed I’d even asked. But then fury and rage set in. Why should I feel humiliated about asking for the truth? I needed it. I was still so angry and so hurt after everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours that I felt like I had been forced into asking. Struggling for breath, I swallowed hard. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead I just nodded pathetically. Joel put down his fork, folded his

hands in his lap and looked at me. No, that was a bit of an understatement. He stared at me intently. There was something in his eyes that I had never seen before. Something new, something scary. “Gillian, I know that I have hurt you in more ways than you can imagine. And I’m sorry for that. More sorry than you will ever know. If I could take it back, I would. But I’m not that naïve. I can’t. So you’re just going to have to believe. If it takes me days and weeks and months and years to prove that to you, then that’s what I am going to do.” Joel reached out to hold my hand and instinctively I flinched. I didn’t mean it and I didn’t do it consciously, but I can’t pretend I didn’t cringe. And what made

it worse, Joel saw it. Again, I had hurt him. “Gillian?” he asked as slowly he tried again. This time I focused and made sure I didn’t budge an inch. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled unconvincingly. “I know I’ve hurt you in every way that a person can hurt another, but you have to believe me; I would never again do that to you.” I watched as Joel sipped his wine. His words were sincere, but looking down I could see the marks on my wrists and everything became real again. Sighing heavily, I found the words tumbling from my mouth before I could stop them. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you ever love me or do

you think that I just trapped you into a life you never wanted?” “Yes,” was all he offered, downing the rest of his glass of wine before hastily refilling and draining it again. I admit I was nervous but it was more than that. I was absolutely petrified. Gulping, I forced the words out. “Yes you loved me or yes I trapped you?” Joel put the empty wine glass back on the table. He looked at me with wide vacant eyes. Something had changed. The moment had passed. Gone was the tenderness in his face and instead there was an insurmountable distance between us. “Yes, you trapped me.”

Chapter Fifteen My heart broke. I would have sworn they heard it around the world, the deafening sound of my heart shattering into a million pieces. Silent, salty tears streamed down my face and I didn’t

even notice they were there. In my heart I knew Joel and I never had a normal courtship from the start. Well, we did, but it was in hyper-drive. Everything that a normal couple goes through in the first three years of their relationship, somehow Joel and I crammed it into the first three months. Again he reached out to take my hand and I pulled away. The difference was this time I knew I had done it. And this time I had deliberately tried to hurt him. I wanted him to feel the same pain that was killing me. I knew it was childish but I didn’t care. He broke my heart. I wanted nothing more than to destroy his. “Gillian…please just say something. Anything.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to hear what I have to say right now,” I spat back nastily. “Let me explain.” “Fuck off! What the hell do you want to explain? Why are you still here when I trapped you all those years ago? Why haven’t you just left if you’re so damn unhappy?” I pushed my plate away. I was too repulsed to eat. “Calm down,” Joel snapped heatedly. “Don’t tell me to calm down. You have no right to tell me what to do.” “Shut up and let me finish, damn it! Yes, at the time I resented the fact that you were pregnant with Charli. I felt suffocated. But let me tell you I wouldn’t change the fact that we, you and I, are the

proud parents of a beautiful daughter. And you can’t judge me for that. Yes, you told me you were pregnant and I freaked out. Who wouldn’t? We barely knew each other. But let me remind you, you freaked out as well. We weren’t ready. I wasn’t ready. But I don’t know why you doubt that I ever loved you. Do you remember the first time that I told you that I loved you? Do you?” he asked. By now I was sobbing. I couldn’t fault anything he had said. I did freak out about being a mum and everything else that was happening to me. With hormones ravaging my body, I found myself suddenly married and pregnant without a chance to figure out if this was something that I actually wanted. Now I

just felt like a hypocrite for questioning him. “No,” I declared, embarrassed. “We were in the hospital. After twenty-two hours of labor, you were exhausted. Your hair was matted, your face was red and covered in sweat. Your wide eyes were pretty much hanging out of your head. My hand was numb from where you had spent the better part of the day before crushing it, and in your arms you held the most precious thing in the world, our daughter.” Joel’s eyes were full of tears. They were on the verge of spilling over and trickling down his cheeks. “Charli wrapped her tiny little hand around my finger and I realized how perfect she was. She was the spitting image of her mother. And I

knew in that moment, I just knew, that I loved you. And not because I had just been through hell, but because you had given me something that no one else ever could.” “I don’t understand. You think I trapped you and ruined your perfect life, yet the day that I sealed your fate you decide that you love me? Does that make any sense to you?” I had given up trying to be diplomatic. In my mind I was in that place where I had nothing left to lose. I might as well put all of my cards on the table and hope Joel didn’t call my bluff. “Charli isn’t a bad thing. She didn’t ruin my life. I’ll admit that she completely transformed it. But it got

even more wonderful. And when Bianca joined our family things just got better. I love you, but I had no idea how much our kids would transform our lives. My life. When Charli arrived I was amazed at how instantly and how much I loved her. Then Bianca joined us and I didn’t love Charli any less, I just found more space in my heart for her,” Joel confessed openly. I don’t know why I was being such a heartless bitch, but I couldn’t help it. “You didn’t get more capacity to love, Joel. You just stopped loving me and poured everything that you have into your job and your daughters.” “Is that what you truly believe? Deep down in your heart, past the pain, do you

really think that I don’t love you?” “Give me a reason to believe something else. Anything else,” I challenged. “Gillian, I love you.” “Prove it,” I retorted with all the venom I could muster. In that moment I was nothing more than a heartbroken, defeated, furious bitch. We both knew it. The only difference was I didn’t care. Joel had hurt me and in that moment I could think of nothing more satisfying than revenge. “How, Gillian? Tell me what I have to do for you to believe me. What’s it going to take for you to get past this?” “I don’t know.” “Sure you do or you wouldn’t have

brought it up. You know exactly what you want.” “No, I don’t.” Joel huffed heavily. He was trying to play the victim now; make it sound like everything was being done to him and nothing was his fault. God forbid he actually step up and be a man and take some responsibility for a change. “Just tell me what you want. Stop playing these childish, pathetic games and just tell me what it is you want, Gillian.” I stared at him. The man sitting beside me was not the man I met in the office that day. The man I met that day had passion, had fire, had confidence and had that strange sex appeal that made my insides squirm. But that man was gone. I

hadn’t seen him in years. Our marriage had become the typical joke. As soon as the ring had been placed on my finger and our daughters were tucked up in their beds, the passion fizzled. We no longer bothered to make time for each other. We’d given up trying to impress each other. And I’ll admit I was as much to blame as Joel was. I could go days without shaving my legs and I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had even bothered to get a bikini wax. But we had kids and careers and lives that seemed to get in the way. Unfortunately, our problem was that we accepted it as the way it was rather than fighting for something better. Fighting for what it was we wanted. Fighting to reclaim us.

“You really want to know what it is that I want?” I threatened. “I’m begging you, Gillian. Tell me. What is it that you want?” I took a breath, trying to tame the barrage inside me. “I want a life. I want a husband who comes home to his family and is happy to be there. I don’t want someone who comes home and looks at me as if I am in the way. I want you to want to be here with us. And more than that. I want to be able to have time off. Time to be me. Time to spend doing the things I like. I don’t always want to be the responsible one. The one who makes sure the kids are fed and bathed and homework is done. Occasionally I would like someone else to do that. I

feel like I am doing all this alone.” I forced myself to pause. I didn’t want Joel to think I was berating him with my tirade, which in fact was exactly what I was doing. But as the words flowed freely from my heart I finally grasped that that was exactly what I wanted. I don’t know if I knew it before that moment and just never said it aloud or if I just realized that that was what I wanted as I said it. I wanted a partner, not just someone who showed up occasionally. “I can do that. I can be that man for you, Gillian. You just need to let me,” I heard Joel say no louder than a whisper. It took me a full minute to comprehend what he had said. “Sorry?”

I asked nervously. I needed him to repeat it. I didn’t want to pin my hopes on something that I thought I heard. I wanted solid commitment. “I can do that for you. I can be here. I can help you.” “Don’t do it out of guilt or just to shut me up, Joel. You need you to do this because you want to. You need to want to spend time with your family. And that’s what we are, Joel. And believe me, I know it’s scary. We are still so young and we have two daughters and another on the way. But we have made it this far, there’s no point giving up now.” I was hoping I wasn’t pushing him too far, but instead encouraging him to choose what was best for him. Then all I

had to do was hope that what was best for him was also best for the rest of us. I watched as Joel’s head sunk into his hands. I stared at his hands, waiting. With the memory of last night in my mind I was silently terrified of him exploding, but it needed to be said. There was no point ignoring this any longer. If I wanted my life to get better, I had to start somewhere. That’s when I noticed his left hand. His wedding ring was missing. “Where is your wedding ring?” I questioned incredulously. We could fight and argue, but in my eyes taking off your wedding ring meant something, something real, something hurtful. “God, Gillian, it’s never just one thing with you, is it?” Joel shook his

head. He was angry now. His face was red and his eyes bulging. Grabbing his napkin from his lap, Joel threw it down on the centre of the table with force that I had never seen before. Pushing his chair away from the table, Joel stormed into the kitchen. I didn’t follow him. I was frozen to the spot, too afraid to move or make a sound. And in that moment all I could think of was Charli and Bianca. Asleep like angels, tucked up in their room, they didn’t need to hear or see this. Suddenly I wished that they had gone to stay with Adele for the night. Storming back into the room, I could smell the rum from the tumbler in his hand. “You say that you want a break from your kids, then why are you having

another one? You say you want me to want to be here, but why would I want that? Why would I want to come home and be stuck here? Why would I want to spend time with you when you don’t even want to spend time with yourself?” Joel stormed, downing the rest of his drink. “They’re your kids too, Joel. It takes two, you know. You should want to be here. You say you love me, yet you and I haven’t done anything or been anywhere alone together in over three years. I want to spend time on my own, but without you here to take care of the girls, I can’t. I can’t just go out and do my own thing and leave them here to fend for themselves; they’re still little girls,” I

defended. I should have been prepared to defend what I wanted, I should have known he would turn it around, but I hadn’t thought it through that far. “Fine!” he puffed dramatically. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I will be home every Tuesday and Thursday by six. On Tuesday night I will organize dinner for the four of us and we will have family time. No other commitments, just the four of us. I will bathe the girls, help with homework, and do whatever else needs doing around here. So after dinner is done, you can do anything you want. It’s up to you. Then on Thursdays I will come home at six and you can go out. I will spend the night with Charli and Bianca and you can do whatever. Go

to the movies, out for coffee, visit the girls, I really don’t care. Is that good enough for you?” He was so clinical and unemotional about his declaration I found myself wondering if he actually meant it or it would just be another thing that he was going to do until something better came up. But now was not the time to jinx him. Instead, I found myself nodding meekly. “So now you shut up? You got what you wanted and now you’re quiet.” Joel shook his head as he walked back into the kitchen. “Where’s your wedding ring?” I dared ask again. “What?” he snapped, reappearing with his glass refilled.

“I just asked where your wedding ring is,” I repeated. “I took it off.” He drained his glass, put it on the counter, and sauntered into our bedroom, slamming the door as he passed. I knew in moments he would be passed out on the bed, snoring.

Chapter Sixteen I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in my own bed that night. I looked at the clock and it was a little after two in the morning. I hadn’t noticed the time passing, but I had been staring into the

blank television and, as the minutes ticked by, I curled my legs beneath me and hugged myself absentmindedly. I was hurt. But I was hanging in there. Right then, in that moment, that was all I could do. I stretched out my tired, aching muscles as much as I could before curling up into a ball. It wasn’t so much a sleep as it was a thousand cat naps strung together with unwanted moments of panic. The night passed slowly, but when I woke the haze in my head still hadn’t cleared. If anything, it was denser than before. Feeling like I had been hit by a bus, I padded softly towards the bedroom, trying desperately not to wake anyone. I stole a glance at the clock. It

was a little after five. The house was still silent and dark. I knew I had at least another hour and a half before the girls began to stir. I opened the door, and to say I was shocked by what I saw was the understatement of the century. I’d imagined I would push open the door and sneak in to see Joel spread-eagled on the bed snoring happily. But he was nowhere to be seen. He must have snuck out the side gate before I woke. Instead, the room was buried beneath a mountain of boxes. I don’t know where they had come from, but standing beside the bed, taller than me, was a cardboard tower. Startled, I walked through the wardrobe into the en suite. I splashed

cold water on my face, then tipped my neck and heard the crack caused by the uncomfortable couch. I noticed that something wasn’t quite right. Glancing around the en suite, something was missing, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Convincing myself I was going crazy, I turned and left. I almost made it out of the wardrobe before I noticed what had vanished. Me. All my clothes were missing from the closet. None of my shampoo or moisturizer or perfume was on the countertop in the bathroom. I immediately became enraged and obsessed. I found myself pulling open drawers and opening cupboards. Everything I owned was gone. None of

my pajamas were in the pajama drawer. My sock drawer was empty. The bathroom cabinet had been wiped clean. Every trace of my existence in that room was gone. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. It was all too much. I slid down the door frame and sucked in deep breaths. I wasn’t sure where the tears had come from, but they streamed undisturbed down my face. “Mum!” the howl came. Someone was awake, but I couldn’t pull myself up from the floor. I was paralyzed with shock and dismay. Then the call came again and the time for my own drama was gone. Just like that. One word and all my thoughts and problems were no

longer a priority. Eventually I dragged my astonished, aching body from the floor and stalked back out of the room. I didn’t mean it but I let the door slam behind me, shaking the windows. “Oops,” I heard myself apologize half-heartedly. I found the girls were awake and already in the middle of getting dressed. I looked at Bianca and her mismatched clothes and found myself smiling. When I realized I was smiling, I stopped myself. But that was the last thing I should have been doing. I had just discovered that my loving, caring husband had packed all my clothes and toiletries into boxes and kicked me out

of my own bedroom. There was nothing to smile about. Yet there I was, standing in the doorway to Bianca’s room, unable to wipe the stupid, cheesy grin from my face. And in that moment, with my hands resting protectively across my pregnant belly, I made a decision that would change everything I knew. No matter what Joel said or did to me next, he would never hurt my children. And he had no hope in hell of getting rid of me and keeping them. It was all or none. “Mummy,” Bianca sang sweetly, looking up at me with wide, innocent, hopeful eyes. “Look, Mummy. I did my own hair. Is it pretty?” Using all my strength, I managed to stifle a giggle. Yes, Bianca had done her

own hair, and it was stunning. Somehow she had managed to defy not only reason but gravity as well, and amongst her beautiful brown locks was every clip, every ribbon, and every barrette that she’d ever owned. “Yes, darling. You look beautiful,” I cooed, adjusting a clip that was falling out. “Can I go and show Charli?” Her adorable wide white smile beamed up at me. I couldn’t help being in love with my daughter. “Go on, I’m sure Charli will be impressed.” I just stood there, frozen to the spot as she pushed past me and skipped down the hallway to find her sister. When I heard giggling, I headed back towards

the kitchen to begin my day. Make breakfast, prepare lunches, and drop the girls at school before grocery shopping, picking up Charli a new pair of swimmers for lessons later on that afternoon, and a quick trip to the doctor’s before I picked them up again. Even being a mum without a day job was tiring. I never had more than five minutes in a row to myself. But admittedly, I wouldn’t have asked for anything different. I gave one final fleeting thought to the boxes neatly stacked in my old bedroom. Part of me wanted to storm into Joel’s office and just yell and scream and make a scene, but the other part of me, the more stable, mature part, wanted nothing

more than to pack the girls’ belongings, load it all onto a truck, and drive away. The way I was feeling I knew I could have the house sterile and empty again before Joel even noticed. I just wished I knew what his next move would be. Moments later I was securing the girls’ seatbelts and headed for school.

Chapter Seventeen Joel Striding through the office as purposefully as he could, chest puffed out, trying to look busy and important,

Joel barely managed a snort as he was greeted much too cheerily by the busty blonde receptionist behind the desk. “Someone’s snotty this morning,” she taunted under her breath before refocusing her attention on her long, fake, bright pink fingernails. “Have you got something you want to say to me?” Joel snapped, appearing immediately beside her. He hadn’t heard the actual words she had said, but he had known for a couple of weeks now that she thought he was a jerk. And she provoked him every chance she could. “No. I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Mr. Matthews,” she sung sweetly, pushing back from her chair and standing up.

Joel had to admit that this chick had balls. She was right in his face. The further he puffed out his chest, the further she stuck out hers. He was impressed. Not only by the attitude confronting him, but also by the ample size of her bust. He was slightly mesmerized by it and couldn’t stop his eyes from looking straight down the front of her top. “Good!” He smiled seductively at her, licking his lips. “’Cause if you did I would invite you to do it to my face rather than muttering your sly, smart-ass comments under your breath, Becky.” Joel noticed the goose pimples that dotted her exposed skin. They made him feel powerful and in control. “No, Joel, I have nothing to say.” She backed up. As

she stepped backwards, he came towards her, quickly closing the gap between them. “I have work to do. I should get back to it,” Becky said, slipping back into her chair and staring at the blank computer screen. Strangely enough, Joel felt completely confident and aroused. He loved the power he possessed. He could see that he was dominating Becky in every way. And she had nowhere to go. She was under his spell. Like his bitch wife had once been. But now she was too fat, too pregnant, and too complacent to be of any use to him. She wasn’t even an ego boost anymore. With the overpowering stench of Becky’s cheap perfume, Joel’s

confidence and erection grew. He bent over her, gently pushing some of the wild strands of her blonde locks away from her face and whispered suggestively to her. “I know you want me. It’s only a matter of time.” “You’re…you’re married,” Becky stuttered, hers eyes darting back and forth, searching for a savior. “So what?” he whispered again, nibbling her ear. As he turned to leave, Joel just couldn’t help himself. He reached down over Becky’s shoulder and helped himself to a handful of her breast, freezing Becky where she stood. Shocked, Becky gasped. Frozen to the spot As she fought back angry, bitter tears,

Becky grabbed her bag and ran out the door. She was already frantically dialing her boss’s phone number as she pushed through the double glass doors and out on to the street. Completely oblivious to the distress he’d caused or the tears streaming down Becky’s face, Joel ducked into the kitchen and poured himself a juice. He wasn’t sure whose it was, but he helped himself anyway. He had a content smile on his face—so far, a great day. He had started with a detox, getting rid of his wife’s shit, before putting that tart sitting out in front filing her nails in her place. He finished his juice and dropped the dirty cup in the sink. Someone else would take care of it. They always did.

Stalking back into the office, Joel slipped into his leather recliner and put his feet up on his desk. He had a mischievous but satisfied smile on his face. So far today he had “cleansed” his room and his life as much as possible of his wife, and still managed to scratch an itch with the bosomy idiot sitting at the reception desk. He felt invincible. The phone lines were quiet, which was unusual, but not eerily so. It was still early and most solicitors he knew wouldn’t have finished their morning coffee and gossip sessions. Joel sat there completely relaxed. He glanced around his office and saw a lifetime of his achievements. The top of his filing cabinets were covered in

trophies from years of hard work, dedication, and manipulation. Photos lined the walls from award ceremonies and half-famous clients. The only indication that he even had a family was a small photo of Bianca and Charli on the back of the door. There was no sign that Gillian was even in his life. The phone rang and Joel was jolted out of his daydream. As he began to swear and curse down the phone, his boss appeared in the doorway. After a few more moments of bitter words and half-hearted cajoling, he slammed down the phone. “Asshole,” he cursed. “Something up?” “Yeah, the bitch from 46 McKinley Way just withdrew her property,” Joel

snapped a little too forcefully for Samantha’s liking. Joel and Samantha had never gotten along. Not since the day she was promoted from below Joel to his boss a little over twelve months earlier. She despised the way Joel spoke to and about women. Sometimes he was just rude and other times he was so damn offensive it took all her strength and will power not to slap him across his perfect face. “You mean the emotionally fragile single mum with three kids, one of which has Down syndrome, whose husband just died in the Middle East building bridges?” Samantha asked, attempting to remind Joel that the woman he was so

angry with wasn’t doing this just to piss him off. She knew that Joel had a temper. Samantha had watched as he grew more destructive and more obnoxious. Controlling him had become a full-time job. She didn’t even have time to sell anything herself. The less she sold, the less she earnt. The less she earnt, the more she hated the fact that these days she was pretty much a glorified babysitter, making sure Joel didn’t do anything that would get them sued was infuriating and unnecessarily time consuming. “Yeah, that stupid bitch. She’s got no idea how much time and effort and marketing I spent trying to sell that

place. And I was so close…” he muttered under his breath. Samantha could feel the tension brewing. Joel was at boiling point and she knew she only had a short time left to diffuse him before he caused something more than the usual nightmare. “Just give her some time to get everything together. I’m sure she’ll come back,” Samantha attempted to reassure him. Although she said all the right things out loud, internally Samantha knew that it was all bullshit. After hearing the way Joel spoke to her, Joel had no chance of getting this one back. “Whatever,” Joel grumbled before waving his hand dismissively at Samantha. She gave up and walked out,

shaking her head. Things were getting worse, but there was nothing that she could do for now. Joel watched on with bemusement as his boss stumbled in her stilettos. The cynical part of him wanted to annoy her to such an extent that she couldn’t help but spin so fast that her heels wouldn’t keep up and she fell on her fat arse. In Joel’s mind, that was where she deserved to be. But if anyone asked, no, he wasn’t at all bitter that she had been promoted ahead of him. For a few moments Joel watched on, not sure how he was supposed to feel. A combination of thoughts floated about inside of him and all of a sudden the room was too small. Too closed in.

There was no air. No windows. He needed to get out of there. The claustrophobia was nauseating. Jumping up from his seat, Joel flew out of the office, barely pausing to glance back. Outside in the fresh air, Joel slumped over, hands on his knees, sucking in long deep breaths. Something wasn’t right but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Then it struck him, like a tonne of bricks. This time he had gone too far. And as fear gripped him, Joel heard whimpering. Becky was sitting on the garden edge behind him, her face streaked with mascara lines, her eyes wide and red. He could hear the short, sharp, shallow breaths as she gasped between sobs. Joel couldn’t help but steal glances in

her direction. He found himself wondering if it was his fault she was out here, sitting alone in the icy wind, sobbing to herself. Or did she have some other issues, bigger problems than he knew? Surely it wasn’t his fault. She wasn’t that pathetically fragile, was she? But a niggling in the back of his mind made him pull himself together and walk over to stand in front of her. Becky looked up at him with pure terror. Gone was the pain and anguish, now only all-consuming and paralyzing fear was left. And it wasn’t just fear, it was unadulterated panic. Joel was towering over her, arms folded across his chest, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Please…please just leave me alone,” she whimpered desperately. Joel scrunched up his face in disgust. He could see that she was clearly distraught, but the only remorse he felt was the concern for his own career. Whether Becky knew it or not, she could destroy everything he had worked for. With one word, all the late nights, weekends, all the hours spent on the phone, all the lies he had told, the very thing that he had molded his whole life around could be gone. “Becky.” He smiled softly at her. He had been around long enough to know how to play the game. With women it was simple, he’d been taught. And after years of honing his skills, his arrogance

made him believe that this would be no harder than closing a deal. A young, dumb girl just had to be played the right way. He lowered himself slowly onto the ledge beside her. “Are you okay?” he offered. Joel watched with interest as tiny bits of spittle coated her face as he spoke, causing her to recoil. “I’m fine,” she stated matter-of-factly. The instant the words passed her lips, Becky began wiping at her eyes. She squared her shoulders and looked up at Joel’s softening face defiantly. Without pausing to consider the consequences, Joel reached out and put his hand on Becky’s thigh. Jumping up from the ledge, she

backed away from him, daggers in her eyes. “Don’t you ever touch me again!” she snarled. “Becky,” he began, standing up and inching towards her. Instinctively Becky found herself backing up until she crashed into the brick building behind her, knocking the corner of her elbow on the rough surface. It wasn’t a deep gash, and there was no blood, but it still stung. “Fuck off, Joel!” “Excuse me?” Joel retorted, surprised that she had the audacity to speak to him like that. Didn’t she know who he was? “I said ‘Fuck off, Joel.’ You ever come near me again and I guarantee a few tears will be the least of your

concerns. Not only will you be squirming about on the ground in so much pain you will wish you had been desexed years ago, but by the time you’re able to drag your sorry ass up off the ground, you’ll only be standing up to greet the police.” “Listen here, you stupid little tart. I don’t know who you think you are or who you think you’re threatening, but I won’t stand for your drama queen antics. You might think you are all that, but you are nothing. Completely replaceable. We can always just get some other big boobed, blonde Barbie to do your job. God knows it’s not fucking hard. So you just keep your mouth shut,” he snapped, tiny bits of spittle covering Becky’s face.

Joel should have quit while he was ahead. The more he spoke, the more Becky grew in confidence. She had him rattled and she knew it. He was making threats and back tracking. He was worried. “I don’t know how your wife puts up with your bullshit.” “Don’t you dare mention her!” “Why not? Do you remember that you actually have a wife?” “Shut up!” he threatened menacingly. “What? Doesn’t she know about all the skanks you parade through the office before closing the blinds? Do you think we’re all stupid?” “I told you to shut up!” Joel roared as he back handed her, leaving a stinging

red hand print on her cheek. Seeing the shock on her face, Joel realized that he had gone too far. He had never meant to hit her. He wasn’t a violent man, he reassured himself. “I’m sorry, Becky,” he apologized as he backed away, embarrassed. “I never meant to…I’m so sorry…” Joel turned and fled. “This isn’t finished,” Becky stated, but he was already too far gone to hear.

Chapter Eighteen Gillian By the time I got home I had calmed down. Well, as much as anybody who had just had their life packed into boxes

by their husband and been evicted from their own bedroom could. I knew Joel was going through something and had been for quite some time, but I didn’t care anymore. I know that’s a horrible thing to say about your husband, but in all honesty that was the only emotion I could muster towards him. For months I had played the supportive wife. I hadn’t complained when he fell into bed, drunk beyond words and reeking of cigarette smoke in the early hours of the morning. I’d stopped asking if he would be home in time for dinner. I’d even passed the point of trying to make him feel guilty about missing our lives. To me, it seemed that Joel had long ago forgotten those words we’d exchanged when we’d

made our wedding vows. I’d stood by him when no one else had. But enough was enough. My girls needed me and they deserved a better life than this one. It’s funny, I never would have thought of packing my things and moving out. Despite all our problems, it just never occurred to me. But once Joel had made the first move, once my life was in boxes, I realized I didn’t want to go back into that room. It was the last place I wanted to be. And with that I raced into the laundry, threw on my old gardening clothes, and got to work. Within an hour all my boxes were out of what would now be known as Joel’s bedroom. My stuff was neatly packed away in the guest bedroom. My pillows

on the bed, my toothbrush in the holder next to Bianca’s and Charli’s, and my perfume stashed on the highest shelf in the cupboard out of reach of little princesses. My clothes, the ones Joel had decided not to shred or destroy, now hung neatly in the closet. Honestly, I thought it would hurt more than it did. I’ll admit I was completely shell shocked that I didn’t feel a thing. It was like, in some strange way, I knew this was the best thing for me. Separation. Being Alone. Now I just hoped that I could stop being scared. Stepping back and looking at my handiwork, I wiped the sweat from my brow. Suddenly I felt okay again, as if it was over. I wasn’t stupid enough to think

that he would never come home and we could just be happy here without him. But even something as simple as moving down the hall seemed like an enormous achievement. At least for now. I would just have to wait and see what happened from here. My back ached and I was exhausted, but a mum didn’t get a choice. Jobs had to be done. And if you couldn’t rely on anyone else to do them that just meant you had to do them yourself. So I did. Every day. I did whatever it was that needed to be done. I dragged my weary body into the laundry and threw in yet another load of washing. It was a neverending mountain. Sorting through it I found Joel’s underwear buried amongst

our clothes. Socks and jocks, probably a week’s worth. No doubt he would have found them as he cleaned me out of his life. They would have been hidden behind the bedside tables, under the bed or wherever they landed as he kicked them off. I stared at them amongst the pile. It was like they were taunting me. If I washed them, would he expect it to continue like he always had? Was he naïve enough to believe that he could cut me out of his life where I no longer fit, but when it came to being his house bitch, I would still do? Storming out of the laundry, I hadn’t resolved anything. In the end it had just been too hard a day. I’d deal with that

later or tomorrow. Or when I felt like it. Suddenly I was a wreck. I curled up on the sofa and sobbed to myself. Things had been bad before. The bruises and scratches had hurt, but this was worse. And what was I supposed to tell our son? I didn’t want him thinking this is what a family was. My kids would not grow up thinking this was normal. Hugging a pillow tightly to my chest, I let my hands rest on my stomach and spent the next hour talking to my baby boy. Not yet born, still my confidant. Sometime in the afternoon I must have fallen asleep because the vibrating of my mobile phone woke me with a start. “Shit,” I exclaimed, wiping the drool from the corners of my mouth and

attempting to tame my hair. “Good afternoon. Is this Mrs. Matthews?” a pleasant woman asked politely. “Yes, this is Gillian,” I replied, confused. “This is Audrey Anderson, Bianca’s teacher.” I felt myself gulp, wondering what was wrong. I was ashamed at myself for instantly assuming the worst. “It’s just that neither you nor your husband have picked the girls up this afternoon.” Instantly I was humiliated. I had never before forgotten to get the girls, but today I had just slept through it. “Oh my god! I am so sorry. I’m leaving right now. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I slid into my sandals and

grabbed my handbag from the chair. “No troubles. We’ll wait for you. See you soon.” She hung up. I cursed myself all the way to the school. By the time I pulled into the parking lot I had never felt worse. I must be the worst mother in the world. Who forgets their kids? Seriously? By the time I leapt from the car and headed towards the picnic table in the sun where they were seated quietly, I had managed to completely destroy myself. I would never forgive myself for this. “Again, I’m so sorry,” I apologized, reaching the table. I had read somewhere a long time ago that said the more times you apologize the less meaning it has,

but I couldn’t stop myself. The words just kept tumbling out of my mouth. “Don’t worry about it. There were a few other kids whose parents were running a little late today.” She smiled. In that moment I hated her. She was judging me. And if she wasn’t, I definitely was. I was a bad mum. I walked over to the girls and noticed they were already doing their homework. Charli’s homework sheet was already half completed and I hadn’t even read the questions yet. I felt like a failure, and the flame-haired beauty in the sundress and the wide brimmed straw hat wasn’t helping at all, no matter how much she pretended to be. “Hi girls, sorry Mummy’s late,” I

found myself saying yet again. “Come on, pack your things away and we’ll go home,” I began as I roughly started shoving Bianca’s colored pencils back into her pink pencil case. “I called your husband but I couldn’t reach him. I left a message, so you may want to call him and let him know that you have your daughters so he doesn’t worry,” she offered softly. Holy Fuck! were the only words racing through my brain. Fuck! Joel knew that I was a crappy mother. Yet another example of my failures. It seemed that I was just feeding him ammunition these days. It was something I would have preferred to hide from him right at that moment. “Thanks, I’ll get in

touch with him,” was all I managed to mumble through the forced smile. “Bye Bianca, bye Charli.” Ms. Anderson waved as I tossed both their backpacks over my shoulder and shooed them into the car. I was halfway home before anyone spoke. On a normal day I would pick the girls up and the whole way home they would talk incessantly, telling me about their friends, the teacher spilling coffee on her dress, the smelly boy at the back of the class causing trouble, and anything else that remotely caught their interest. But today there was just a silence. Deafening. Painful. “What happened at school today?” I encouraged as I stopped at the traffic

lights. “Nothing,” they murmured in unison. Straight away I knew something was definitely up. Glancing in the rearview mirror I saw two very despondent little girls. Gone were my chirpy angels and in their place was two let down daughters. Cutting through two lanes of traffic, horns being beeped at me furiously, I turned the corner and pulled over. Once we were parked, I switched the ignition off and turned to face them. “Come on, girls, what’s wrong? I know something happened, so why are you sad? I know I was late and I’m very sorry about that.” “Don’t you love us anymore?” Bianca asked bluntly.

Stunned, my mouth dropped open and I stared at them blankly. “Of course I love you. Very, very much. I don’t want you to ever think that I don’t,” I attempted to reassure them. “Then why didn’t you come and get us?” Charli queried. She was a smart girl, and explaining was always painful with her. There was no point trying to lie or even dodge the question. She would call me on it every time. “Do you remember when I told you that I was going to have another baby? That you were going to have a younger brother or sister?” I watched as they nodded, slightly confused. “Mummy was very tired this afternoon and accidentally fell asleep on the lounge. It wasn’t that I

forgot you, it’s just I took a nap and forgot to set an alarm.” After a brief pause and a shared glance between them, Bianca smiled happily. “You’re silly, Mummy,” Bianca said. I reached out and squeezed her hand. It was a simple explanation, but it was an honest one. “Why do we have to have a brother?” Charli sulked, crossing her arms pointedly. “Boys smell.” I threw my head back and chuckled. I hadn’t laughed like that in a while and it felt good. “You’re right. Boys do smell.” I couldn’t lie to her. “But having a brother won’t be such a bad thing. You just wait and see,” I promised. Although I knew I hadn’t been late on

purpose, I still felt like I had let them down. And as much as I knew that giving in to those feelings would just create bad habits, at that moment I didn’t care. Things weren’t good at home. That was a sad reality. Even I wasn’t keen on going home. “So, who wants to go visit Aunty Rhiannon?” I offered, watching as their innocent faces lit up. The thought of going to Rhiannon’s instead of home made me smile too. I hadn’t realized just how much I was dreading going home until I turned back around, fastened my seatbelt and pulled out into the traffic heading back into the city. I found myself ashamed that I didn’t want to face it. I knew I would have to at some point, but there was nothing saying

that I couldn’t delay it for a while. Moments later the three of us were squished in an elevator with a man who had bigger boobs than mine and who smelt like a strange combination of garlic and sawdust. Bianca had her fingers pinched on her nose and Charli looked like she was about to ask something terrible, when thankfully the elevator jolted with a ping and the doors opened. Quickly we jumped out and dashed down the hallway to Rhiannon’s. I didn’t even get the chance to knock. By the time I reached the opening, the girls were giggling so loudly that Rhiannon had opened the door to find out what all the noise was about and Charli almost fell through the door in hysterics. By the

time I joined them, all three were squirming on the carpet in front of me in fits of laughter as Charli attempted to describe Mr. Garlic and Sawdust. “Hey.” I smiled, reaching down and pulling her up off the floor. “Thanks,” Rhiannon puffed, brushing at her clothes. “Hey girls, do you want to watch some TV?” she offered hopefully. Rhiannon’s apartment wasn’t exactly child friendly, but she still tried and the girls loved her for it. “Can we watch music?” Bianca asked hopefully as her eyes lit up. My baby girl’s latest obsession was Beyoncé. The songs were constantly on repeat. But it had become more than that. Lately we had started to get personal re-

enactments and dance moves. Rhiannon looked at me, I shrugged, and moments later the top forty was blaring from the lounge room. “Wine?” she offered. Normally I would never drink if had to drive the girls, but tonight I needed it. “Absolutely!” Just the thought of it made me feel confident and inspired and I had yet to have a taste. I watched in silence as Rhiannon darted about the kitchen, pulling out stunning crystal wine glasses, uncorking the bottle, and pouring. She made it all look so grown up and easy. She didn’t pause once to stop and argue or trip over toys left on the kitchen floor. She handed me my glass and watched with

anticipation as I took a sip. As soon as I placed the glass on the counter she pounced. “So, what’s up?” “Nothing,” I lied and she knew it. “Gillian?” Gulping down a few more mouthfuls of courage, I looked up to see Rhiannon staring at me with intense, scrutinizing eyes. “What’s the bastard done now?” “He kicked me out.” As soon as I admitted it I knew I was in trouble. Once the words were out there, I could never take them back. Rhiannon dropped her glass on the floor with a smash. Glass and wine went everywhere. I raced around, grabbing the tea towel and mopping up the spill. I’d had a lot of practice with spills and

breakages. Suddenly Rhiannon reached out and grabbed my wrist, stopping me dead in my tracks. “I need to get this wine up before it stains the cabinets,” I replied to her silent question. “Fuck the cabinets!” she announced, dropping my wrist and striding into the lounge room. “Girls, do you want to stay here for tea? How about I cook a big bowl of spaghetti for dinner, then you can watch a movie?” “Yeah!” Bianca said happily. “Can we, Mum?” Charli called out. Straining to hold back tears as I furiously scrubbed at the floor, I said, “Sure, honey, if it’s okay with Rhiannon.”

“You girls stay in here while I organize us some dinner. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” She hugged them both tightly. Moments later she marched purposefully back into the kitchen without a word. Before I knew what was happening, Rhiannon had downed two shots of vodka and popped the cork on another bottle of wine. I was the one who had been kicked out of my bedroom and my marriage, yet Rhiannon was downing shots faster than I could count. I returned to my stool at the bench and awaited the inquisition. I’ll admit I watched with fascination as Rhiannon systematically got things happening. She refilled my wine glass, opened a jar of Bolognese, put on a pot of boiling water,

and sent a text before sitting down beside me, taking both my hands in hers. “Right! Start at the beginning and leave nothing out,” she commanded in the most loving and supportive tone that she could muster.

Chapter Nineteen Joel He was drunk. Obscenely drunk. “Another shot, Pete,” Joel said, tossing a wad of notes across the bar. He’d been

in the dark, dingy pub drinking by himself for hours. Every time he began to think about the mess that was his life he got so angry that only a combination of tequila shots chased with a rum and Coke numbed the pain. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Pete asked with a wink. “Fuck off!” Joel slurred. “I’ll say when I’ve had enough. Pour another one while I take a piss.” Joel stumbled his way to the bathroom. Almost forty minutes later, Joel managed to make his way back to the bar and his phone perched beside his drink, he saw that he had forty-two new messages. All from work, not one from his errant wife.

“Stupid bitch,” he muttered to no one in particular. “Shows how much she cares. Hasn’t even bothered to call and see if I am alive.” “Maybe you should go home then,” Pete offered, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Don’t tell me what to do! Whatta you know?” Joel crumpled. “I’ll call you a taxi,” Pete offered, disappearing behind the bar. Joel started mumbling and babbling incoherently to himself. A fiery redhead perched her bony bum on the barstool beside him. She had tacky fire-engine red plastic fingernails that she tapped rhythmically on the bar. It took mere seconds for Joel to become infuriated at

the annoying noise. “Can you not?” “What?” “Tapping.” “Tapping what?” Joel rolled his eyes, his frustration growing. Taking another look at Miss Cheap, he said, “Look, I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight. Just stop the fucking tapping or I’ll stop it for you.” “Wanna take me home?” She grinned, running her nails up and down his arms. “I’m married.” “Don’t care.” “Okay then.” “Okay.” “We’re leaving?” “Now!”

“My place?” “Easy.” “I heard.” Joel dumped a fistful of cash on the counter, wrapped his arms around her scrawny waist, and together they fell out the door. Joel half staggered, half crawled towards the one place that he could never come back from. They stumbled through the door into the cold night air. He climbed into the backseat of the taxi, pausing momentarily to vomit out the door before slamming it behind him. Disgusted with himself, Joel didn’t even care as he wiped his mouth on his hundred and eighty dollar Gucci tie, covering it in tiny bits of vomit.

With her fake nails digging into his thighs and biceps, Joel didn’t know what to do or say. He just sat there stunned. Joel just stared blankly ahead as the Indian taxi driver mumbled along with a song that Joel had never heard before while the whore beside him kissed and caressed and nibbled and groped at him with a desperation that was completely unexpected. By the time they reached Joel’s driveway, he’d fallen into such a deep depression that he didn’t want to be with anyone. Silent tears streamed down his face as the sobbing began. With yet another wad of cash thrust towards the driver, Joel turned and faced the woman still in the taxi. Then unexpectedly and

without a word, Joel slammed the door with her still inside. “Take her wherever she wants to go. Just get her away from me.” Shocked, a spray of abuse burst forth from her. “You are nothing but a fucking tease, you know that? You think that having money makes you better than me? That you can just buy me off? I’m better than that. I’m not some cheap whore. I deserve better than you. You’re an arrogant son of a bitch…” her voice trailed off as the taxi crunched the gravel and turned back onto the road. Joel was left standing in the centre of his front yard looking up at a darkened house, feeling completely alone. After minutes of fidgeting with his

keys, trying to fit the key into the lock, Joel found himself standing in his lifeless, loveless bedroom. For a moment he had forgotten about what he had done. He had forgotten about all the problems and all the arguments and all the drama that had plagued his life. But standing in his bedroom with nothing on the dresser and half the wardrobe empty, he couldn’t hide from the truth. Nothing he did would make him forget what he’d done. Then, unexpectedly, a cold shiver ran through his body. Where was Gillian? Where was all her stuff? He remembered packing it up, but he had left the boxes stacked by the door. Now there wasn’t a box in sight. The house

creaked, and Joel realized that for the first time in a long time it was quiet enough to hear it doing so, something he couldn’t recall hearing since the day they’d brought Charli home and that first night when she screamed and howled for hours. Instantly Joel was frantic. He was running through the house, throwing open doors with wild abandon and switching on every light. She hadn’t taken the girls and left. Their rooms looked like they did every day. The pink bedspreads pulled up neatly, all the toys packed away in their homes, and all the clothes folded neatly in the cupboards. Joel breathed a loud, heavy sigh of relief when he spotted Morris, Bianca’s much

loved moose, laying on the end of the bed with his velvety antlers drooping over the side. He knew she would never leave without Morris. So where the hell was Gillian’s stuff? With trepidation, Joel pushed back the door to the last room in the house, the spare room. He knew that it would have made sense to look there first, but even with as much as he’d had to drink Joel found that he was unexpectedly sober. Steadying himself with the door frame, he could see everything that Gillian had done today. No longer was her stuff thrown roughly into boxes in his hurried attempt to get her out of his life, but it was all neatly put away—typical Gillian. But then the punch came. The

hardest hit Joel could imagine and he had no one to blame but himself. Sitting on the bedside table was a photo of Charli and Bianca smiling happily, Gillian between them. He recalled the afternoon when it was taken. He was at work. They had been so excited. Gillian had taken the girls butterfly hunting. It was the first crushing blow, but not the only one. Sitting beside it, like almost an afterthought, was an ultrasound photo. One Joel had never seen before. It was the first picture of his son. “Gillian!” Joel cried out with anguish and torment. But no answers came. The house was sadly silent—no giggling, no arguing, no singing, just heart-breaking silence.

For the first time since Joel’s life began to take a nose dive, he realized what his life would be like without family. And he wasn’t yet convinced that he liked being completely alone. Joel collapsed onto the sofa in the dark and waited. Surely if Gillian was out with the girls she wouldn’t be late. She was a lot of things, but an irresponsible mother wasn’t one of them. So he sat. And he waited. Three hours later she still hadn’t shown up. Frustrated, Joel finally gave up and found his phone. He’d been ignoring the calls and messages since he had walked out of the office this morning, but now he was anxious to see if Gillian had even bothered to contact him. Forty-six

unread text messages, none from Gillian. Eighteen missed calls. Not one from Gillian. He couldn’t blame her, he’d been an arse, but she still should have called. Joel suddenly realized that he was hurt more than he thought he could be. Bored and with nothing better to do, Joel started wading through the messages to try and kill some time until they got back. It was the same usual crap. Messages from his mother checking in, another an automated reminder about his dentist appointment tomorrow, a few from unknown numbers asking him to call them about a property they had seen on a website. Then there was a mysterious, cryptic message from

Samantha. Samantha: Answer ur phone—don’t come 2 the office til u speak 2 me. Not a joke. U r not allowed in office —under investigation. Work from home til advised. And there it was. In less than one hundred and sixty characters Joel’s world tumbled further and further into disarray. He was suspended indefinitely. And now his mind raced. What had he done to deserve it? Or, more frighteningly, which indiscretion had he been caught doing to get him suspended? There were just so many. Depending on which one they were referring to would

ultimately determine whether or not he would even have a job to go back to.

Chapter Twenty Gillian “Mum, I’m tired,” Bianca whined, squirming into my lap. “I know, sweetie,” I tried to placate

her, stroking her soft hair. She wiggled and squirmed, trying to get comfortable, and eventually nuzzling into my neck and sighing heavily. “I should really get these girls home. It’s getting late.” Rhiannon looked at me with drunk, sympathetic eyes. The past four hours had been full on. Like the friend she was, Rhiannon let me dump everything on her. I’ll admit it felt good to finally share all the pain and all the trouble that I had been going through. And Rhiannon said all the right things. She promised me that I hadn’t asked for it and it wasn’t my fault. Repeatedly, she had stated that Joel was just an asshole and he had his own issues that he just seemed to be taking out on me.

“Charli,” Rhiannon called out to her. Surprisingly, she came bouncing in, still full of beans. “You called?” she asked. I knew that sneaky smile any day of the week. She had been lying low, in hopes that we would forget she was still not in bed and let her stay up past bedtime. “How would you and Bianca like to have a sleepover at Aunty Rhiannon’s tonight?” Rhiannon offered, briefly glancing in my direction. “What about Mum?” “I suppose she can stay too. What do you think?” “Can we, Mum? Please?” Charli begged, looking up at me with cocker spaniel eyes.

Stealing a glance at Rhiannon, she just nodded, and without a thought in my head, I found myself nodding along with her. “Yep, just for tonight though,” I stated, more for my own resolve than to make a point. “What about my pajamas?” Bianca added. Instantly I felt guilty. This wasn’t a planned slumber party and I knew all the things that they should do and have that they didn’t. They didn’t have a toothbrush or their pajamas, and Morris wasn’t there for Bianca to snuggle up to, but as soon as I considered the alternative of taking them home, I knew we were staying. “Well, Bianca,” Rhiannon began,

scooping her up from my lap, “I am pretty sure I have some Elmo pajamas that will fit you and a spare pink toothbrush that I keep especially for you. So it’s okay. What do you think?” “Okay,” she sang happily. I watched as Rhiannon carried Bianca down the hallway. I could hear the giggling and squealing as she got them ready for bed and tucked them in. Both the girls were in the spare bed and my choice was either the sofa or to bunk in with Rhiannon. While she was gone, I found a bottle of Midori and some pineapple juice and mixed up a deadly concoction. Looking at the three empty wine bottles on the counter and the two empty bags of

roasted cashews, I felt drunk and not one bit guilty about not going home. It wasn’t like there was anyone there waiting for me. Twenty minutes later, I had finished another two Midori cocktails and Rhiannon reappeared. “You have two amazing daughters, Gillian. You know that, don’t you? And with another one on the way. With the exception of the asshole you married, you really do have it all,” she gushed. I went white. Instantly I felt sick. I had completely forgotten about the child I was carrying. What sort of mother was I? Before I knew it I was vomiting incessantly into Rhiannon’s kitchen sink. Just the hazy thought of what I had done

was enough to keep me throwing up. Guilt consumed me and just made me purge even more. “What happened?” Rhiannon asked, one hand holding my hair out of my face and the other rubbing my back comfortingly. “Rhiannon,” I gasped between vomit explosions, “I’m pregnant. And drunk,” I said as I burst into tears. “Oh fuck!” she exclaimed. As she said the words her face dropped too. She’d known I was pregnant, but with everything that had happened this afternoon, it had just completely been forgotten. “Move!” she exclaimed before joining me at the kitchen sink. Forty minutes later both Rhiannon and

I were slumped against the kitchen cabinets, sipping delicately at ice water, too afraid to tempt our stomachs with anything stronger. “I can’t believe I forgot!” I was so furious at myself that I was no longer angry with Joel. “What sort of irresponsible and stupid mother compromises their unborn child’s health like that?” “Calm down, Gillian,” she said unconvincingly. “You and your son will be fine. Yes, it’s not the best idea I’ve ever had, but it’s not like you do this every day. And let’s face it—you’re not the first mother to have a few drinks while you are up the duff. And you certainly won’t be the last. Come on.”

She pulled me up off the floor and led me towards the bedroom. I sat on Rhiannon’s bed while she pulled the shirt up over my head as I stared dead ahead, unblinking. The tears had ceased, but the feelings behind them were all-consuming and paralyzing. Rhiannon had managed to get me stripped down to my panties and bra and into her bed. All of a sudden I felt alone. I wanted to be home in my bed, curled up beside Joel, his hands resting on my stomach, promising me that everything would be all right. Just like he had done when I was pregnant with Charli. I snuggled in under Rhiannon’s quilt and fell into a fitful sleep, Rhiannon sitting beside the bed watching over me

like an angel. An angel who had just spent the past four hours feeding me wine and cocktails, who now felt extremely guilty, and was praying feverishly that nothing went wrong with my pregnancy. It was eleven o’clock the next morning when I stumbled into Rhiannon’s en suite and washed my face. When I saw the clock in the mirror’s reflection I flew into panic mode. The girls were supposed to be at school and I’d slept too late. Again. I’d let them down because I was asleep. More surprising, they hadn’t jumped on me and woken me before now. And the apartment was weirdly silent. I pulled on yesterday’s clothes, scrubbed my

furry teeth with my finger and some toothpaste, and ran my hands through my hair, trying in vain to tame it. Ducking into the kitchen, I saw Rhiannon sitting quietly sipping coffee and reading the paper. “Morning,” she said happily. Where I looked and felt like I had been hit by a bus, Rhiannon was positively radiant. No signs of a hangover or lack of sleep. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and croissants in the oven. They’re still warm.” “I can’t. I am really late. I have to get the girls up and dressed and to school and somehow explain all of this,” I listed frantically, trying to pull on my shoes, but I was having trouble coordinating my feet with my hands.

“Gillian!” Rhiannon snapped forcefully. “Sit down. Have a coffee and listen,” she bossed, pouring me a steaming cup. “The girls are already up and dressed and at school. I drove them there this morning, after a quick stop at the shops to buy them some new clothes. I didn’t want them in yesterday’s clothes; they would never live that down. I packed lunches, drove your car with their booster seats, and explained to their teacher that I was their godmother, I was just dropping them off, and that you would be picking them up this afternoon. Everything is all okay.” “But how? What? Why? When?” I babbled, talking large gulps of scalding hot coffee, trying to numb the pounding

behind my eyes. “Just breathe…I was up at six, they needed me to do it, and even if you don’t want to admit it, you needed me to do it. You were absolutely exhausted, Gillian. And I love you and that little boy you are carrying. I know how much you’re going through, so if letting you have some peace and quiet for a couple of hours is how I can help, then that’s what I am going to do.” Rhiannon was so different than the carefree girl I had known years ago. The old Rhiannon would have gotten me drunk and then laughed as I stumbled through the next day feeling sorry for myself. But now she was going above and beyond. She was the epitome of the

helpful and caring girlfriend. And as much as it pained me to admit it, she was exactly right. I needed the break. Usually Adele helped, but right now I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what was going on. I knew she would find out eventually, but right now I couldn’t tell her. If Joel did, that was his business, but I wasn’t prepared to answer those questions. “So, your girls are sorted. Now, what are we going to do with you?” Rhiannon asked, refilling her coffee cup. “I need to go home.” As soon as I said the words aloud I felt shivers run through my body. I knew I had to go home—I had never planned on staying away this long—but the truth was that I was terrified.

“Well, let’s get you home then!” “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’re unbelievably kind and caring, but this is something I have to face. On my own.” I felt bad. Rhiannon had put herself and her apartment at the mercy of my tears, drunken tantrums, and daughters, and now I was telling her that I didn’t want her help. “It’s okay, Gillian. I know. And I understand. Just remember that my door is open if you want to come back. Today. Tomorrow. In a week. Or even in a year. Just don’t let him win!” She hugged me tightly and I felt the unwelcome but all too familiar tears gather on my eyelids. “I’ll try,” was all that I could commit to.

“Gillian, please just remember one thing for me. You are a strong, fiercely independent woman with the world at your feet. He might be your husband by law, but if he won’t man up and be the husband he should be, don’t you settle for anything less. You deserve better.” “Thank you. For everything. You don’t know how much I appreciate it, I really do. But I have to go. I have to face the truth and deal with it. Besides, it’s almost lunchtime. He won’t be home for hours. He’ll be at work, ’cause he is very important, remember?” I laughed aloud and I was shocked at how good it felt. “Yep, that’s what he keeps telling himself, anyway. Call me if you need

me.” “Promise,” I agreed, and with one final hug I forced myself out the door and into the elevator. As I turned the key in the ignition and turned onto the main road towards the inevitable, I cast my mind back over the past twenty-four hours. I can’t begin to describe how thankful I was to Rhiannon. She had done all she could, and I knew there was nothing I could do to ever repay her. She had said and done all the things that I needed her to do, with, of course, the exception of feeding a pregnant woman large quantities of alcohol. I pulled into the driveway, pleased that no one was there. I felt cheap and

dirty. I could think of nothing that I wanted more desperately than a long, hot bubble bath filled with salts and relaxing lavender oil. I parked on the driveway; I would have to go out afterward anyway. I had to collect the girls from school and today I had promised myself I would be early. There was no way I was risking being late two days in a row. God knows the last thing I needed was to be known as a negligent mother. I got to the front door and was astounded to discover the front door wasn’t locked. Immediately I panicked. I couldn’t help it. Joel was such a security-conscious freak he wouldn’t have deliberately left it unlocked. And why wasn’t the security alarm blaring

and deafening the entire street? Carefully I pushed open the door and jumped almost a meter off the ground as it squeaked open. Typical. It had never squeaked before, but the one time that I needed it to stay quiet it made more noise than Charli and Bianca fighting over Barbie’s wedding dress. I stepped cautiously into the lounge, but nothing seemed out of place. The television was still there. The DVD recorder, even the digital camera on the coffee table hadn’t been touched. We obviously weren’t being robbed. “Hello?” I called out. No one answered. Just the eerie sound of my own trembling voice echoed back. Maybe Joel had just stuffed up and

not pulled the door shut hard enough when he ran off to work this morning. It was weird but not completely impossible. Standing in the middle of the lounge I looked more closely. The only thing out of place was a throw on the couch. There was no sign of anyone, so it was the only plausible explanation. I dropped my handbag on the bench and headed straight into the bathroom. It felt strange taking my bath in the main bathroom instead of the en suite. I’d never used it before. As I sunk into the steaming water I felt all my anxiety simply evaporate. I closed my eyes and simply went with it. The relaxed sensation began in my feet and travelled all the way through my body until it felt

like I was floating on air. “About time you got home!” Joel boomed, throwing the door open and letting it slam against the wall, leaving a hole in the wall where the handle had punched through the plaster board. In that moment my heart stopped. When it started again it was racing. I jumped five feet in the air, water spilling everywhere. “What the fuck!” I swore, scrambling out of the bath and almost slipping as I reached out to grab a towel hanging on the rack beside me. “This is my fucking house. Where have you been? And where the hell are my girls?” Joel spat angrily. I looked at him and didn’t recognize the man standing there staring at me.

Tragically, in that moment, I remembered the first time Joel had caught me in the bathroom. It seemed like a million years ago and I had never imagined that all the romance and love would fade as quickly as it had. But that just went to prove how young and stupid I really had been. “The g-girls are at school,” I stuttered, too afraid to offer anything more. Huffing and puffing, Joel strutted back and forth, rage gathering on his quivering top lip. “Don’t…where have you been?” Joel snapped, holding up a finger indicating that he wasn’t done with me just yet. I stepped back, my legs crashing into the side of the bath, forcing me to reach

out and grab the towel rack just to maintain my balance. Joel stepped towards me menacingly. In all honesty I had expected this kind of outburst from Joel when I finally saw him. But I thought I would have had a few more hours to prepare. He should have been at work, then I wouldn’t have been caught so off guard. I would’ve had a chance to come up with the answers to his questions. I wouldn’t have been found in a room where I was cornered between the wall and his explosive temper. I would have been fully clothed. But instead he had the upper hand. He had all the control. And I was back pedaling as fast as I could, just fighting to stay in the game.

“We stayed at Rhiannon’s last night,” I admitted. As soon as I said it I felt guilty. I should have never have mentioned Rhiannon’s name. Now she was involved in my mess. “So you and I have a minor disagreement and you run to Rhiannon and blab about our personal problems? Fuck, Gillian. Grow up. Why do you always have to run to your friends?” “Because I don’t have a family. Screw you, Joel. You kicked me out of my bedroom. Tell me, what sort of personal life do we have? We’re fucking flat mates. The only thing we have in common are the amazing daughters that you fathered then conveniently forgot about,” I dared.

Hanging out with Rhiannon had given me a courage I didn’t know I had. This life I had with Joel, I realized, wasn’t the life I wanted. This wasn’t enough for me. And this life, this fake marriage, wasn’t something I wanted my kids to see. I didn’t want them growing up thinking this was normal. “What did you say?” “Nothing. Just forget it. Like you do everything else.” “Fuck you, Gillian. I do everything for you—” “No you don’t,” I cut him off angrily. “You might pay the bills, but there is no way that you do everything. When was the last time you took the time out of your very important day and spent time

doing your daughter’s homework with her? Or read Bianca a story? Or even asked how I was doing carrying your son? What happened to the man I married?” Joel physically recoiled at the questions. And I have to admit it felt so good to watch him squirm. I took the opportunity to pull the towel tighter around me. “Don’t you dare throw this back on me, Gillian. You have no idea what I am going through.” “Well, tell me!” “What?” “You think you’re going through something. How about talking to me? Instead of packing all my things and

throwing me out of my bedroom, why don’t you try being an adult about it and just tell me what’s going on?” I challenged, pushing past him and storming into the spare room which had now become mine. Joel followed me in and watched silently as I pulled on a pair of old grey tracksuit pants and a striped sweater as fast as I could, not pausing to bother with underwear. “Do you even care what I do all day, or just that your ATM card works each time you use it?” he asked angrily. As horrible as it was to be arguing over this petty crap, it was the first real conversation we had in weeks. “What have I done to make you think that I hate

you?” “Just forget it,” Joel walked away dismissively. “But don’t you dare think you can take my girls away from me.” Summoning all my strength, I called after him, “Fuck you, Joel. Don’t you dare walk away from me! Why did you kick me out of our bedroom?” “Gillian!” he growled. “Come on, tell me!” I watched as he spun on his heel. Even his strut was angry. A moment of fear passed through me but I was in too deep to back down now. Facing me, I could feel the hate. It was tangible. “You’re a leech. You have done nothing but ruin my life for the last seven years. You trapped me in a life that I

didn’t want and now yet again you go and get pregnant. All I ever do is work to pay for everything. You mean nothing to me. Don’t you get that? If you left then maybe I could have my life back. One that resembles something like the one I wanted. Not this domestic bullshit.” “Come on, Joel, don’t hold back,” I tempted, following him into the lounge. By now we were bellowing at each other and I was glad that we had such a big house. There were no neighbors who could hear our arguments through paper thin walls. “I want you to get out,” Joel stated so coldly that I almost ended up with frostbite on my ears and nose. “This is my home, Joel. Mine and my

daughters,” I reminded him. “No, Gillian! This was my home. A home you turned upside down again and again and again until I could barely recognize it or myself.” “Is that what you really believe?” I asked, flabbergasted. “I don’t know how else to say it, Gillian. I don’t want you in my life. That’s why you’re no longer in it. That’s why I kicked you out. I couldn’t bare the suffocation and boredom anymore.” The way Joel said it broke my heart. He was no longer yelling, he was no longer leering over me, or imposing himself. Instead, he sat down at the kitchen bench, sipped his water and spoke slowly and calmly to me. The part that

hurt the most was that he was perfectly composed. He wasn’t speaking out of spite or anger or frustration. He was speaking from his heart, no matter how black that heart was. As tears silently streamed down my face, Joel got up and walked away without looking back. He took the keys from his pocket. I watched in silence as he unlocked the newly installed dead bolt on his bedroom door. As he vanished into his room I heard his mobile ring, then heard him let out a pained roar and a long list of colorful expletives. My marriage was over.

Chapter Twenty-One Six Years Later I dropped Lucas off at his first day of

kindergarten and tried not to cry. I hadn’t realized just how different boys were than girls until that moment. When Bianca and Charli had gone to school they wouldn’t let go of my hand and begged me to stay for hours. Eventually I prized myself from their grip and snuck out the door. But Lucas had pretty much waved goodbye as he got out of the car and said, “See you later.” No kiss, no hug, and no tears, at least not from Lucas. Squinting through my tears, I was glad I had taken the morning off work. They had been pretty understanding about the whole thing even if they didn’t know the full story. I headed toward the office, but glancing at my watch realized

I still had a full hour before they expected me. I had thought dropping Lucas at school would take longer, but since it was quick and painless, I had enough time to take myself out for coffee. I convinced myself the free parking spot just out the front of my favorite coffee shop was a sign. Extra me time, a vacant spot, no queue, and the best ever apple cinnamon muffins staring back at me. Opening my wallet was the only disappointment. These days I barely had twenty dollars to my name. Not enough for anything really. Hunting around in the car I felt like I had won the lotto when I found a couple of two dollar coins wedged in between the cookie crumbs in

the backseat. I had no idea how long they had been there or where they had come from, but finders keepers rules applied in my car. Ecstatic with my find, I jumped from the car, all my enthusiasm returning, and dashed up to the counter and ordered my breakfast. After he handed me the steaming latte and muffin, I thought about sitting outside on the chairs on the walkway and then spotted a huge tree in the middle of the park just across the road. “Bugger it,” I chastised myself as I darted between cars and planting my bum down beneath its shady branches. Sitting there, peacefully eating my breakfast, I just watched the people come and go and imagined their lives.

There were men in business suits strutting along hurriedly talking incessantly into their wireless ear pieces. Women in short skirts sucking in every last breath of their cigarette before stomping it out with a stiletto heel and darting back into the building. A young mother already looking exhausted pushed along a pram, and an old man on the motorized scooter was almost running people down when they didn’t look where they were going. I could have sat there all day just quietly watching and daydreaming. It was easy and fun to imagine their lives. I wondered if they, like me, got up every day, put on a costume, and pretended to be something more. To hide

their secret pain that they were forced to bury beneath the suit and tie so no one would ever know. I liked to believe that my life wasn’t the only one that wasn’t all it appeared to be. After a while my time enjoying the quiet sunshine ran out. I had to get to work. It’s amazing how real life drags you back into reality and the dreaming and fantasies just seem to evaporate away. Nothing more than a taunting distant memory. As I jumped into the car and pulled out into the Canberra traffic the inner peace and clarity disappeared just as quickly. Twenty minutes later I was at my desk sorting through piles of mail to be distributed. Six months ago I had taken a

part-time job to help support us. I usually worked from nine to two, four days a week. My job was pretty simple and didn’t require overtime. It felt good to feel needed, to have responsibilities, but most of all it felt good every fortnight when my bank account bounced back into the black. I sorted and distributed the mail, did any photocopying people wanted done but were too busy or important to do themselves, answered phones, and was the general gopher lady. If there was a really significant meeting on it was usually my job to organize the coffee and cakes or whatever the participants liked. And the hours were flexible, something I needed more desperately than the money.

I needed to be able to drop the kids off in the morning and pick them up at the end of school. Through the years, that was the one stable point in their lives. They knew that Mum would be there to meet them every day. “Hi Jane,” I said as she hastily handed me another pile of files to sort through. Sometimes Jane was a bitch. Really, that was the only way to describe her personality for six months of the year. The other six months, however, someone else entirely worked in her place. She was happy, pleasant to talk to, a bit special at times, and usually quite good company. You just had to pick which Jane had come to work each day and act accordingly. If it was the bitch,

duck for cover and wait till it passed; if it was the fun Jane, have a laugh and a smile while the going was good. The look on her face and the fact that I received only a barely audible grunt as acknowledgement told me exactly which day it was, and I was going to ensure I stayed out of her way for the rest of the afternoon. Work was easy and rewarding. In the office I got not only adult conversation, which I desperately craved, but also some appreciation for my efforts. When I first started it surprised me how unbelievable it felt to get a simple thank you or a smile or a “job well done.” For me it was the little things that made a difference.

Each day seemed to fly by as uneventfully as the next, which was exactly what I needed at work. It seemed like my personal life was such a mess that I knew I wouldn’t have been able to handle a complicated and drama-filled work day. I guess that was the best thing about working with a team of guys. Most of the time I was the only female, a situation that would intimidate many other women, but I honestly felt like I could be myself with them. There was no bitchiness and no one judging me. “How did Lucas do on his first day at school?” Scott asked, leaning on the petition between our cubicles. “He wouldn’t even let me walk him into his classroom. I got a ‘see ya Mum’

at the car and he was gone.” I laughed easily. “I would have gladly swapped. Rachel cried for over an hour. Every time I took a step towards the door it just got louder. You would be amazed by the high pitch at which a girl can squeal.” Scott was a good guy, a single dad doing his best to raise his young daughter. Although he didn’t know my situation— it was something only a handful of people actually knew the extent of—he some days seemed to understand me better than I understood myself. “Tomorrow can only be better,” I encouraged. “Let’s hope so.” He laughed, giving me two thumbs up before vanishing

down the corridor. After he left I found myself thinking about Joel. These days it was something I did less and less, yet today I couldn’t help it. I wondered if he even remembered that it was Lucas’s first day at school. He certainly hadn’t said anything to me, nor left any extra money for his things. My marriage to Joel had disintegrated rapidly after he moved me out of our bedroom. Stupidly, in the beginning I thought he was just hurt and angry. I thought he blamed me for everything, but that once he had calmed down things would go back to normal. Like our normal fights. We would both be angry, say things we regretted, both get hurt,

then upset, then angry again, before coming back and making up. Or at least call a truce. But this time it was different. A week after the lock was on his bedroom door, Joel still hadn’t been to work. He was home all day every day. And he wasn’t doing anything. I tried to ask him if he was on leave or if he had plans, but all I got were grunts. Then one day he flew into a violent fit. He hadn’t spoken to me in three days when all of a sudden the bedroom door was kicked open; a chair was thrown at the dining room table, shattering the glass table top into a waterfall of broken glass. I barely had enough time to shoo the girls into their bedroom and close the door before he came looking for me.

I remembered trying to get as far away from the girls’ bedroom as I could. I didn’t know what was going on or what was about to happen, but they weren’t going to get caught in the crossfire. The less they heard of what was about to happen the better. I had seen Joel furious before, but nothing could have prepared me for this. His eyes were glazed over and bulging out of their sockets. The veins in his forehead were poking out at odd angles, sweat gathering on his brow and top lip. The air surrounding him was thick with venom. At first he didn’t say a word, he just stared at me. Then, out of nowhere, he backhanded me across the face. I wasn’t ready for it and crashed into the hallway wall before sliding

down it in a daze. Instantly I was woozy and off balance. But it was okay, he helped me up. Gathering a handful of my hair in his fist he pulled me up off the tiles and forced me to stand face to face. “This is all your fault, you pathetic, good for nothing slut!” he growled into my face, covering me with spit. I still remember the stench of the bourbon on his breath. Standing there, trying not to collapse or shake too much, I looked him in the eye. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I wasn’t really thinking properly after the knock to my head. When he punched me in the stomach, I felt like the life had been sucked out of me. Instantly I went numb with fear as I spluttered and

my legs went to jelly. I didn’t know how the hell my son was ever going to survive this. Still holding me up by my hair, Joel shook me roughly, then threw me to the ground and discarded me like I was rubbish. I tried not to make a sound, but I couldn’t help it. The whimper escaped my lips. “From this moment on,” he snarled, “you’re on your own. I’m not giving you a single fucking thing. You have taken everything from me. And now, I’m done.” He started to walk away and I remembered feeling relieved that it was over. But another whimper leaked out. I was cowering on the floor, Joel standing over me. He looked more like a monster than I had ever seen him.

Nostrils flaring, face covered in sweat and rage, he tossed his head back and then spat on me. He deliberately spat on me. Then, as if for good measure, he swung one leg behind him before kicking me as hard as he could in the back. I remember seeing it coming but it was like it was happening in slow motion. Even now I can clearly recall the painful howl I let out as his boot connected with my back and I recoiled in agony. And I remember looking up, seeing Adele standing there in the doorway. Actually, she was the last thing I saw—two of her, her face appalled—before I blacked out. When I woke up in the hospital they asked a million questions. And I couldn’t answer any. I didn’t know how

I had gotten to the hospital or who had brought me or why I was there. But when I tried to sit up, I knew there was a reason why I was there. My whole body was screaming in pain. There were two nurses monitoring me and my baby. I understood very little of what they said in their hushed calming voices, but the look on their worried faces wasn’t hard to read. I was in real trouble. Ten days later they let me go home. Ten days later I saw my girls. Ten days later Adele filled me in on what she knew. Joel had been fired. He had attacked the receptionist and the investigation concluded that he had done all the things he had been accused of— threats, sexual assault, as well as a host

of other company policy breaches. He’d been dismissed instantly. Then Adele told me what she knew about my injuries. Charli had called her on my mobile and told her to come quick. When she arrived she saw me cowering in the hall, terrified of my husband towering over me. As she stood there, she watched him kick me and just walk away. Joel didn’t even spot her until she was on the floor beside me calling the ambulance and trying to wake me up. Adele explained that she had no idea what had been going on. And she knew nothing about Joel’s violent behavior. Although she was disgusted and embarrassed beyond words, she couldn’t bring herself to tell the police what

she’d seen happen when questioned. A big part of me believed she was a coward for that. Then I remembered the police asking me what happened and I too had told them I didn’t know. I hated Joel more than I ever thought possible, but for some unknown reason I couldn’t do that. I was just a pathetic coward. But no matter what he was to me, he would always be my children’s father. “You okay?” Scott asked politely, his head popping up again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” An icy shiver ran down my spine. I despised the fact that the mere thought of Joel still affected me so strongly. I knew I would never forget that day, but I didn’t think I would have to relive it so vividly

every time his name popped into my head. Shaking my head and running my fingers through my hair, I put on my best smile and faked it. “Absolutely. Just away with the pixies. Well, that’s me for the day. I better go pick up the girls. I’m sure Lucas will just tell me he’s going to walk home, but I better check anyway. Don’t stay too late.” With that I threw everything I had in my handbag as quickly as I could and got out of there. A cold sweat had taken control of my body and I didn’t know how long I would be able to keep it together before I fell apart in front of everyone. The last thing I wanted was to be known as was the crying girl.

I made it to my car. Just. Punching the steering wheel, I swore and cursed and cried and howled. All of this happened years ago, yet here I was sitting alone in my car in a shopping centre car park, the sun beating down, turning my beat-up little orange Holden Commodore into a sauna rather than a car, crying like it had happened ten minutes ago. Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I threw the car into reverse, squealed the tires, and took off as fast as I could. Half an hour later I was home. Still in reminiscing mode, I barely recognized the house in front of me. That first night when Joel had taken me home I had been mesmerized by the beauty and splendor of the immaculately maintained gardens,

but they were long gone now. The water feature had been turned off and the fish had died. The fairy lights littered about the yard had all blown their globes and been blown from the branches through the years. Gone was the magical paradise and in its place stood a yard littered with bindies and tumble weeds. Joel’s beat up Audi was sitting lifeless in the driveway. He had crashed into a tree years ago in a drunken rage. He hadn’t been hurt, but the car had required over ten thousand dollars’ worth of work just to keep it road worthy, and without an income and his savings gone, Joel had just parked it on the driveway and watched it fall apart. Like everything else in this house, it was

now nothing more than a worthless piece of junk that had once been beautiful. I hoped he wasn’t home. I wasn’t in the mood today to deal with Joel. I just needed some peace and quiet. Lucas jumped out of the car and tore through the house like he was on fire. Even though Joel had been more like a boarder than a father to him over the years, Lucas still idolized him. He wanted to spend time with him. Nevertheless, I could count on one hand the number of times Joel had actively sought Lucas out to throw a Frisbee or kick a football with him. “Daddy!” he screeched delightedly. “Guess what, guess what! Where are you?”

I watched in horror as Lucas raced about the house banging on doors and waiting for something that I guessed would prove to be nothing more than yet another bitter disappointment. I had learnt years ago not to expect anything from Joel, and tragically both Bianca and Charli had learnt the same lessons the hard way, no matter how much I tried to protect them from it. Lucas reached up and tried to turn the door handle on Joel’s bedroom door. It wouldn’t budge. It was locked again. “Daddy!” he squealed, becoming agitated. I couldn’t simply stand by and watch as his innocent heart broke. “Lucas, come here and show me what you did at

school today. Daddy has gone out. You can tell him about it when he gets home.” I felt as though I had just murdered his dreams. In my heart I knew that Lucas wouldn’t get the chance to tell Joel what he had done on his first day at big school. It was more likely that Joel would stumble through the door reeking of cheap perfume and alcohol long after Lucas was in bed. Lucas wore a mask of disappointment as he perched himself on the sofa next to me and pulled papers out of his backpack. “You didn’t eat your lunch!” I scolded, noticing the mangled sandwich in the bottom of his bag. “Oh, Mum. I was busy.” “Yeah? Doing what?”

“Playing,” he said. His wide toothless smile was convincing; seeing that, I couldn’t be mad at him. For twenty minutes Lucas told me about his new friends and the playground and his teacher and everything else about the school. In his eyes it was the best day ever. All he wanted to do was share it with his dad. And Dad was missing in action. Again. My heart broke at his repeated requests for his father. I wished Joel would wake up to himself and appreciate what he had right in front of him, but he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. And I couldn’t make him. “Can I go play Lego, Mum?” Lucas asked. Not trusting myself to speak, I faked my best smile and nodded. Before

I even opened my eyes, Lucas was bounding down the hallways happily. It was when I turned over a crumpled piece of paper that Lucas had squished into my hand that I realized what it was: a crayon drawing of Joel and Lucas swimming in the pool playing with a ball. I didn’t know where Lucas had dreamt the scene from, because it definitely wasn’t a memory. Joel had never once got in the pool with Lucas. Not since the day he was born. No one had been in the pool that I knew of for at least the past two swimming seasons. It too, like everything else, had begun to fall apart. Tiny blue tiles had fallen off and dotted the bottom of the pool like confetti. The filter was so compacted

with leaves, twigs, and anything else that had happened to wiggle its way under the cover it had long ago been abandoned. Frustrated at everything, I stomped into the kitchen and stuck a post-it note to the picture. ‘Your son’s dream’ was all I wrote, and left it on the bench in the usual spot. It was sad to think that the only way Joel and I communicated these days was with post-it notes stuck to everything. The bills, kids’ permission slips, notes asking for money, information to be shared. It was a truce we had established after he closed the joint bank account and emptied it without telling me. He left me with nothing and took off. For almost two

months he was just gone. Lucas was less than three weeks old and Joel just up and left. I found out later that he had flown to the Gold Coast, first class, and spent his time drinking in bars, wining and dining beautiful women, and staying at the Crowne Plaza in a spa suite. In less than two months he blew most of our savings and the rest he kept for himself. Without the four ladies in my life who were always there, there was no way I would ever have survived.

Chapter Twenty-Two Joel The phone call came and he knew it

was bad news before he even picked it up. His face twisted into a tortured scowl as he recognized Samantha’s direct office line appear on his screen. “Hello,” he said as politely as he could manage through gritted teeth. “Good morning, Joel, it’s Samantha,” she said, exceedingly bubbly. In his mind Joel knew she was enjoying his torment. “How can I help you this morning, Samantha?” he forced, almost spitting her name. “If you could please come in for a meeting tomorrow at eleven, it would be appreciated. It will be in the corporate headquarters in Braddon.” “I guess I could be there,” he snapped, not giving an inch.

“Right, I’ll see you then.” She clicked off. Joel’s heart sank as he read into every word she said and even more heavily into each word she didn’t. Things were not looking good. Staring around the four walls of his bedroom, Joel was fuming. This was his prison. Beyond those walls was noise and dirt and squealing kids and a clingy wife and a life he had never asked for, a life someone else wanted and yet somehow, in some cruel joke, he had ended up with. Unlocking the door, Joel stuck his head out the door and screamed, “Would you all just shut the fuck up? I’m trying to think.” Then, with the slam of the door

and the click of the lock, visiting hours on the prison was closed. Instead, Joel fired up his computer and began looking for a new job. He knew it was coming and he couldn’t stop it. Office politics would end his career. That and the tramp perched at the reception desk. The days since his suspension had become a blur. A whirlwind of drunken nights and hazy days. He was glad for the hours when the girls were at school and Gillian stayed away. She seemed to spend less and less time at home these days, especially when the kids weren’t with her. Secretly he hoped she was out looking for somewhere to live. The sooner she was out of his life the better. For the first time Joel regretted making

her sell the ratty little apartment she had been living in when he had met her. After two hours, finding nothing appealing, Joel gave up the job hunt and ducked out into the house. It wasn’t the house he wanted anymore. Toys littered the lounge floor and there was a stain on the white carpet from some spill. It wasn’t the home he had spent years and thousands of dollars building for himself. Seeing the state of the house just infuriated Joel. Then, without hesitation, Joel made a decision. It had been a long time coming, but the spill on the white carpet forced his hand. He was no longer going to allow anything else to fall victim to Gillian’s carelessness and lack of appreciation. He had worked too

long and too hard for it to fall apart around him. Joel worked methodically. Starting in the kitchen, he went through every cupboard, taking everything he wanted and squirreling it away in what was once Gillian’s side of the walk-in wardrobe. All the crystal glasses, the entire contents of the bar, anything with any value vanished into the wardrobe. An entire six person dinner set and the silver cutlery. Napkins, a tablecloth, a vase. Everything he wanted was packed away. He then moved onto the lounge, first disconnecting the wide screen television and the DVD player and setting it up in his room. Pictures came down from the walls and rugs were

rolled up and stashed away. Three hours later, with a thin film of sweat covering his entire body, he was satisfied. For now. The house looked half empty, as if someone had broken in and taken anything that was still in pristine condition or working order. All that was left was the chipped coffee table, a stained cushion and the pile of Wiggles DVDs. But now he felt revitalized. It would take time to complete the move, biding his time when Gillian was out so not to cause a scene, but eventually he would have his house, the part he was imprisoned in, exactly the way he wanted. He showered, threw on a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, and took off for his new favorite place to be—the

nearest bar. In a little over a week Joel had become a regular at the local haunt. He knew the other drunks sitting at the bar chain smoking. He knew each bartender by name and cup size. He made lewd comments about them and made everyone feel dirty and degraded, yet they still loved him. Every day Joel picked up the tab. Even if they got there and started drinking hours before he arrived, never giving their bodies time to sober up from the session of the day before, he would simply walk in, place his credit card on the bar, and sign on the dotted line when he left. He never even once looked at the amount. By the time he signed, he could barely see anyway,

so it wouldn’t have made any difference. “Joel, buddy.” A toothless bald man smiled gaily at him. “Afternoon, Cameron.” Joel forced a smile back. The truth was Joel despised Cameron. He was everything Joel hated in life—a leech. He’d received an insurance payout years earlier and lived on that until the funds ran out. Now he spent his days drinking and sleeping and drooling on himself, living off government handouts and strangers’ generosity. “Jack and Coke,” Joel ordered with a wink. He had turned his back before he saw the revolted look the surly bartender flashed in his direction. Hours passed and he finished drink after drink. The sun

was already rising when he was helped into a taxi and sent home, barely hours before the meeting which would determine his fate. Unable to get the key in his bedroom door lock, Joel slumped against it and passed out. Barely twenty minutes later his bright eyed daughters began bouncing on him and wishing him a good morning. He managed to sit up and look at them. They stood there, hopefulness written all over their young, innocent faces, before turning away, repulsed, as he vomited next to Charli, covering her favorite pink ballet shoes. He heard her scream for Gillian before he reached out and slapped Charli’s face, stunning her into silence. Bianca raced off crying, but

Charli stood frozen to the spot clutching her face. It took barely seconds for a furious Gillian to appear and scoop Charli up into her protective arms. “You ever touch them again and you’ll regret it,” she threatened. Astonished by his own actions, Joel watched Gillian as she hastily grabbed the girls and fled. He heard the car crunch the gravel and take off down the street before he passed out in the puddle of his own vomit. The vibration from his mobile phone ringing in his top pocket crushed beneath him woke him hours later. “Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” Joel woke with a start. His phone ringing could only be yet another bad sign. And when he checked the caller ID

he knew he was right. It was the wicked bitch of the west, Samantha. “Hi,” he puffed down the phone, as he pulled himself up as quickly as he could and forced open his bedroom door. “Nice to hear you’re still alive, Joel,” she said frostily. Joel wanted to tell her what he really thought, but knew it was a bad idea. If he wanted his career back, his life back, or even just a second chance, playing nice with Samantha was a necessity. “Yeah, still alive. A few dramas this morning getting Lucas off to school for his first day. Wouldn’t let Gillian take him, it had to be Dad. Then he cried and cried and just wouldn’t let to go.” Joel lied like it

was nothing. He could smell something disgusting and when he saw his face in the mirror and spotted the chunks of sick in his own hair, he wanted to vomit again. But instead it just inspired another lie. “Then he made himself sick all over me so I just dashed home to change. Sorry I’m running late,” he lied easily. “Fine,” Samantha stated dismissively, her tone indicating she didn’t believe a word but nevertheless letting him get away with it. “How long do you think you will be? Michael and I have other appointments so we can’t wait around for you all day.” The mention of Michael’s name turned Joel sober instantly. He was the CEO, and while lovely ninety-five

percent of the time, if you failed him or lied to him or embarrassed him in any way, the consequences were dire. “Ten minutes tops,” Joel said, slamming the front door behind him and sprinting to the car. His Audi was still at the pub from last night, but luckily Gillian’s old Barina was still parked in the driveway. Why she’d insisted on keeping it all these years was beyond Joel, but in that crazy moment he was thankful it was there. “Running out the door now,” he said, and for the first time he was telling the truth. The Barina had never moved so fast or as aggressively as it did that day, darting between cars and racing red lights. By the time he got to the office,

only eight minutes had passed. He’d had time to splash water on his face, swallow half a bottle of mouthwash, and pull on some clean clothes, doing up his fly and tie in the car as he flew in. “Not a bad effort,” he congratulated himself, jumping out of the car and taking the stairs three at a time. Out of breath, Joel was completely bewildered when the nasty receptionist in the corporate office asked him to take a seat and she would check if Mr. Thomas was available to see him. Two weeks ago he used to breeze through the door like he owned the place, barely bothering to acknowledge the receptionist even existed. It was not a good sign.

After fifteen painfully drawn-out minutes, he was summoned to Michael’s office. It was large and intimidating and everything the CEO’s office should be: immaculate but not over the top, classy but not obscene, inspiring but not homey. Someone had good taste. Gulping down the lump that had formed in his throat as he had nervously walked down the corridor, his palms were sweaty and his stomach was still gurgling from last night’s effort. He hadn’t planned to drink that much, but the first tasted so good that by the tenth it was like drinking water. And he was just so damn thirsty he couldn’t stop. Joel appeared in the doorway. Michael spotted him and rose from his

high-backed leather chair to greet him. As inconspicuously as he could, Joel dried his palm on his pants as he reached out to shake Michael’s hand. “Thanks for coming in today, Joel,” Michael offered professionally. “No problem.” Joel flashed the cheesy grin that in the past had got him out of so much trouble. He’d been in Michael’s office so many times over the years and never before had he been afraid, but today was different. Samantha just nodded in his direction, refusing to stand and greet him. Joel had always considered Michael more than just a boss, but like a friend who understood him. Very few people actually did, but Michael was

one of the few who did, who knew what it was like to be in his situation, but today Joel barely recognized the man staring back at him. The disappointed dad look was the perfect costume. “Have a seat, Joel,” Michael indicated, pointing to the chair next to Samantha. Sliding into the seat, Joel said nothing. Maintaining the stoic silence required all his effort and concentration. “It frustrates me to have to have this discussion with you, Joel. Nevertheless, it is my responsibility to do so. You may or may not be aware I’ve received a serious complaint about your conduct. You were temporarily suspended until I had the chance to investigate further.” Michael paused briefly to sip his water.

Samantha continued to look out the window and at the floor and the ceiling, anywhere other than at Joel. Joel gulped. He was gone. The look on Michael’s face made it obvious, but he had to sit through this, whatever it was. “It was a very serious allegation made against you personally and it was my duty to fully investigate the incident. I have now completed my inquiries and I have no choice but to inform you that from this moment forth you are no longer employed at Max Meredith & Sons.” Michael paused and waited for Joel’s reaction. Unfortunately, Joel wasn’t the first agent Michael had been forced to fire over the years, and he probably wouldn’t be the last, but what he was

seeing now truly surprised him. After knowing Joel for all those years, he expected to see some semblance of that wild temper he knew he possessed, but nothing came. Joel was stony faced and somber, merely nodding his agreement. “Okay,” he said, no louder than a whisper, after a long while. Michael waited to see if there was any more. When nothing else came he continued, “The nature of the complaint was disturbing and I’ll admit I was extremely troubled and upset to hear that such a thing had happened. I have convinced the young lady involved to not press charges against you, and I gave her my word that I would deal with the situation sufficiently. You are not to go

back to your office. Samantha will clean out your office for you and arrange for the boxes to be delivered to your home. You will, however, need to turn your swipe card and keys in immediately.” Stunned, Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys, dropping them silently into Samantha’s outstretched hand, following immediately with the swipe card. “I am sorry it ended like this, Joel. Whatever is going on with you, and I’ve known you long enough to know that there is something going on, you need to deal with it. Get some help. Sort yourself out,” he offered. He stood up, indicating that this meeting was over. Silently, Joel got up and walked out. That chapter of his life was over. He

thought about fighting it, making a scene, letting everyone know that he would not tolerate this, but in his heart he knew that there was no point. It was over. Best to just walk away with what little dignity he had left. He went home and went to his room. Shut the curtains, shut out the daylight, shut out the world and went to sleep. A week later he emerged from his own private hell and unleashed his rage against the world. First his family and the woman who had ruined everything for him. That was the day he made the decision to cut them from his life completely. Cut out all the bad and then he could get the good back. He had a lot of work to do, but he would get there.

He was still young and resourceful and, more importantly, he had money saved for a rainy day. And today it was pouring. That night he told Gillian exactly what he thought of her. With a welltimed slap, a punch and a kick, Joel let her know exactly where she stood. When she returned ten days later she was visibly terrified of him. Yet another accomplishment for him, and after only six weeks of living under the same roof, after that night Joel flew to the Gold Coast for some time off and to escape the nightmare. That was six years ago now. When all that happened Joel had naïvely believed it would only take six months to fix his

broken, unrecognizable life. It was now six years later and things were just as bad, if not worse than they had ever been. And he was more miserable than he had ever imagined possible. Even the booze couldn’t dull the pain and fill the emptiness that controlled him.

Chapter Twenty-Three Gillian Adele was my angel. From the

moment she had seen her son, her only child, kick me, their relationship dissolved. From what I have managed to extract from Adele over the years, she and Joel had had a huge argument when she returned from the hospital to collect the girls some clothes. She had disowned him until he sorted this mess out. He never had. Selfishly, I thought that was the end of not only my relationship with Adele but also my children’s. But Adele was better than that. She stood by us in ways Joel never knew. I would often find random deposits into my bank account. We were invited for dinner at least once a week and the presents just became out of control. Any excuse to buy one of the

kids a new pair of shoes or outfit, Adele took it. Without a mother of my own, Adele became the only person I trusted enough with the truth. Even with my best-friends, I just couldn’t bring myself to admit how bad my life had become. These days I had a key to her house and we were welcome any time, day or night. The one night I had taken the kids and checked into a motel in the middle of the night, Adele had been so furious at me she had gone out that afternoon, purchased a set of bunk beds with pink quilt covers and had unicorns painted on the walls so that the girls always had a home. Even if it couldn’t be at our own place, we always had a place at Adele’s.

Quietly I let myself in, trying not to disturb anyone. It was the middle of the night. Joel had come home a little before midnight and now had music blaring from his bedroom. Lucas had woken first, but it didn’t take long before we were all awake wondering what on earth was going on in there. But when the CD changed and I heard a female giggling, I knew things had gone too far. I didn’t care if he was cheating on me. It didn’t bother me in the slightest, but I was not going to let the kids see some cheap bimbo emerge from their father’s bedroom while they were munching on their toast in the morning. I wasn’t doing it for Joel. I was protecting our kids from our reality, and so I had done what

I needed to do—packed the kids in the car, complete with tomorrow’s school clothes, and driven them to a safe place. “Bianca! Charli,” I whispered, trying not to wake Adele. “Go jump into bed, girls. It’s late.” They were so tired and still half asleep that together, hand in hand, they walked down the hallway and when I checked on them five minutes later they were sleeping soundly curled in the bottom bunk together. Lucas was another problem altogether. Something had shaken him. He was wide awake and frightened. I had tried putting him into his bed and reading to him but nothing helped. Exhausted, I crawled into the single bed beside him and snuggled down. I stroked

his hair softly and after a while he drifted off to sleep on my chest, his steady breathing calming me. “Everything okay?” Adele asked, poking her head in the door. “Yeah,” I whispered back, pointing to Lucas, making sure she knew he was asleep. “Good night.” “’Night, Adele.” I knew every time we snuck into her house, or arrived while she was still awake, she was agitated and worried, afraid that Joel was in trouble or causing more chaos. Each time we slept in her spare rooms I could feel her eyes scouring me, looking for any signs of abuse, but I had gotten better at hiding it.

And so had Joel. He knew how to hurt me and hide the bruises. And we both knew that I was too pathetic and weak to tell anyone about them. That meant I would have to admit that I kept going back. Like an idiot, I kept going home to my abusive alcoholic husband. It was definitely not something to be proud of, and not something I wanted to advertise. But Adele wouldn’t ask me for any details the following day. I think she preferred to not know. In her heart, Adele knew what he had done and she never pretended that it didn’t happen, but she didn’t discuss it either. I think it was easier to be nice to me and our kids to make up for Joel’s shortcomings then to confront them and admit that it was a

real problem. I slept fitfully. Lucas wasn’t a calm sleeper and the nights he was disrupted were his worst. He would toss and turn and scream out in his sleep. When I woke the next morning, I was curled up at the end of the bed, where his tiny feet couldn’t reach, but he was gone. Initially I panicked. But then I remembered that we were at Adele’s and she wouldn’t mind if the kids got up in the morning and made a noise. It was only Joel who was set off by that. As I stretched out the loud cracking noise in my neck, back, and shoulders got my attention. I was aching from head to toe. I wanted to run the hottest bubble bath I could tolerate and lie there for a

month. Even an hour would do. Just let some of the frustration seep out of me. Instead, I pulled myself together, ducked into the bathroom, and splashed some cold water on my face before facing Adele and the kids. Explaining what was happening to Charli was the worst. I could no longer hide the truth from her with lies and deception. She knew everything and saw everything, but my biggest concern was what she was repeating. No one needed to know what happened behind the closed doors of our home, but I understood that maybe Charli needed someone to talk to. Someone who’d understand. Someone who wasn’t me. “Morning, Mummy.” Bianca smiled,

bounding over and wrapping her skinny freckled arms around my waist. I couldn’t help but to smile back. She made me keep going. “Hi darling,” I replied, kissing her lightly on her forehead. “What are we doing out here?” “Nana made us pancakes for breakfast!” Bianca explained, sliding back in her chair at the bench and stuffing a huge forkful of pancake into her mouth, leaving a trail of sticky maple syrup across everything. “Isn’t Nana wonderful?” I asked, silently mouthing ‘thank you’ to Adele. Only she noticed and still she remained silent. “Lucas, have you had enough

breakfast?” Adele asked, taking charge. Being at Adele’s wasn’t only a safe haven from Joel’s abusive and hurtful attacks, but I was also allowed to take a break from being a single parent. Where Joel could have been helping, should have been helping, on those days we were at Adele’s she stepped up and gave me a breather. “Come on, guys, eat up,” I encouraged, glancing at my watch. They had to be at school in less than an hour. “Gillian, go jump in the shower. I’ll finish getting these guys organized for a school,” she offered helpfully. I just nodded. Somehow, Adele always knew what I needed. An hour later, the kids were at school

and I was in the office, but I couldn’t concentrate. Something Charli had mumbled in the car on the way to school really upset me. She had complained about her father, yet again, but it was the way she said it that hurt. She was only twelve years old, but in that moment she seemed older than I was. “Mum, why won’t Dad just leave? He doesn’t love us. So why do we have to be the ones that keep going to Nana’s?” Although I had the same thought every day for the past six years, I never had an answer. Not once. But that too was my fault. I had never asked. But now was as good a time as any to make that change. And when my boss floated past my cubicle two hours later and I was still

away with the pixies, I casually asked if he would mind if I took the afternoon off. When he had no objections, I was out of there as quickly as I could go. The drive home was painful. Ten minutes of extreme torture—practicing what I wanted to say and imagining what Joel’s responses would be. I didn’t want to get hit again, but that feeling wasn’t a new one for me. Sadly. I thought about telling someone what I was about to do, but I was afraid they would try and stop me. This was something I had to do, not just for me, but for my three terrified, fatherless children. I pulled into the driveway and there was a car I didn’t recognize, maybe that of the woman from last night. I didn’t

remember it being there when we left, but then again it wasn’t important at the time. Summoning all the strength I possessed, I quickly sent a text to Heidi. Gillian: At home. If u don’t hear from me in an hour. Call the police. I knew she would panic, that was what Heidi did, but I had to tell someone where I was. If the past had proven anything it was that Joel was capable and willing to do whatever it took to get his way. No matter who or what he hurt along the way. When I reached the front door I had to stop myself. I had gone to knock on my own front door. How pathetic was that?

Opening the door, I felt a surge of rage and I was no longer scared. “I’m home!” I called out as bravely as I could. I knew I had stunned Joel by announcing my arrival, because behind the dead bolted door I heard crashing and swearing before a tirade of giggling from someone I didn’t recognize. Each day when the kids and I returned home we usually snuck in the house, careful not to aggravate him, but today I had loudly declared I was home. “Who gives a fuck, Gillian?” Joel greeted me, emerging from his room with only a towel tied loosely around his waist. “Shut up, Joel. And sit down. We need to talk. Now!” I directed, pointing

to the sofa. “Fuck off,” he replied politely, turning his back on me and heading back to his bedroom and his skank. “Joel!” I snapped, raising my voice. “Sit the fuck down and listen.” Taken aback, he did exactly as I said. Trying to compose myself, I sucked in a deep breath and glanced at him. He had scratches on his shoulders, more than likely from the woman in his bed. A few days’ stubble on his chin. Gone was the toned body and the flat stomach, and instead his beer belly hung over the towel gathered at his waist. For the first time I noticed his man boobs and saw what he had really become. He wasn’t even recognizable as the confident,

courageous young man I had met and married all those years ago. Now he was nothing more than a bitter bum with no direction and no dreams. In that moment, as I saw the hopelessness in his eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been the one to suck the life out of him, or if he had imploded all on his own. “Hurry up, Gillian. What do you want to say that you think is so goddamn important?” “You need to get out.” “Excuse me?” “You need to leave. Move out.” Bewilderment was written all over his face. I had never spoken to him like this before. I wasn’t sure if it was what I was saying or if it was the fact that I was

saying it that stunned him into silence, but for a long moment nothing was said. My words hung heavily in the air between us. Then before I knew what was happening, he was on me. Joel’s hand was at my throat and I was gasping for breath. He pushed me backwards until I was squished between his body and the brick wall. His breath was in my face and I could smell last night’s booze session. But this time I wasn’t afraid. I had to stand up to him. “What gives you the right to tell me to move out of my house?” he snarled, squeezing tighter on my throat. I couldn’t focus properly. My eyes had tiny black dots fading in and out as I struggled to breathe. A piercing scream

loosened Joel’s grip. The woman emerged from his bedroom wearing only a g-string and when her eyes locked on mine, she let out a deafening squeal, causing Joel’s concentration to falter. If I thought she was going to help me anymore than that, I was sadly mistaken. Instead, she grabbed her denim purse from the kitchen bench and ran out of the house as fast as she could, tears streaming down her face. As she pulled open the front door, she took one last look at me, her wide frightened eyes filled with apologies. Taking the opportunity to respond, I reached up and wrapped my hands around Joel’s, clawing at his fingers, trying to pry his hands loose. “Joel, your

children don’t want to come home while you are here. You scare them,” I pleaded. But if Joel was enraged before, watching his young date run away only infuriated him further. “Well, then they can fuck off. I paid for the damn thing. What have they ever done to contribute?” he spat. “They’re your kids, Joel. They don’t need to do anything for you.” “We aren’t even sure they’re mine, are we?” “What are you insinuating?” “You’re a whore, Gillian. So who knows who the father is?” “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I was fuming now. After everything else, all the fights, the bitter words, the

punches, and the complete neglect, now he was denying they were even his children. “You tell me?” He squeezed my throat again savagely before pushing my head so it banged the wall hard, leaving me seeing stars. “Joel, please,” I whimpered, knowing that this was going to get worse before it got better. He looked me straight in the eye, the first time he had done that in years, and dropped me in disgust. Instantly my hands rubbed at my neck. That was going to leave a mark, but now wasn’t the time to wonder where my turtlenecks were stored. “Our kids can’t go on like this. They’re too scared to live in their own house in case they

upset you. Please, just get out. Give them a chance to have a normal life. Get your shit together, then come back and be a father.” I found myself begging, something I had promised myself years ago that I would never do. “Fuck off, Gillian. This isn’t about your kids at all. You want my house. That’s what it all comes down to.” “Get over yourself, Joel. It’s not about you and it’s not about me.” “It’s always about you. You’re a selfish, manipulative whore, Gillian. And I’m not giving you a thing,” he stated matter-of-factly. My heart was breaking. My neck was stinging and sore, but with each hateful word my heart broke a little more. The

startling revelation was that I didn’t know there was anything left for Joel to break. I thought he had destroyed it years ago. As the pain subsided and pure whitehot rage took over, I gave up trying to be nice and trying to stay alive. Reasoning with Joel wasn’t working, so it was time to speak the only language he knew. As he began to walk away from me, I followed him. When I reached out my hand and grabbed his shoulder roughly, spinning him around so once again he was facing me, I didn’t even recognize the fingers. “We are not fucking finished, Joel. You need to get the fuck out of this house NOW,” I boomed. “Your kids won’t

come home while you’re here and I won’t have them not here at home. They are not going to some foster home ’cause their dad is too much of a low life asshole to care about them. So get your shit and get out!” I was stupid. I should have seen it coming, but I wasn’t myself. His hand collided with my cheek with such a force that I was knocked off my feet and my eye felt like it was going to explode out of its socket. “You think you’re brave talking to me like that?” he slurred, standing over me as I tried to scramble up off the floor. “Stay there.” He pushed me back down. “I’m not leaving. If this life is so terrible for your precious kids, then you go. Take

what you came with and get out.” “You can’t think this is okay?” I queried. “You are trash, Gillian. And if those kids can’t see it, then they are bigger morons than I ever was.” My tears were back. That was the beginning of the end. Joel was violent and mean and cruel, and if he saw even one trace of weakness he exploited it to the fullest, and tears were the worst. Nothing could cause more trouble than a rogue tear on a soft cheek. I didn’t see the kick coming. This time it was my knee that bore the brunt of it. An immediate pain consumed my body. I wriggled in agony; a distressed wail escaped my lips. Joel spat on me,

leaving a large white spot on my shirt. “Please, just get out,” I pleaded. Joel began to walk away and I pulled myself unsteadily to my feet. Using the bench to steady my balance, I grabbed the nearest thing, a ceramic fruit bowl with one lonely green apple rolling about in the bottom, and hurled it with all my strength towards Joel’s head. It missed, just, and instead crashed into the wall only centimeters from him. That certainly got his attention. “What the fuck?” He spun on his heel and came back at me. For someone who was still drunk from the night before he was astonishingly quick on his feet. Grabbing my wrists, he twisted one backwards. I

glanced down at my arms. I didn’t know how much longer I could hang on. The pain was running rampant through my body; he was going to break my wrist. At best it was already badly sprained, and if it was held at that unnatural angle for much longer I was going to be in more strife than I knew. Pushing through the pain and the tears, I knew I would never have the courage and the tenacity—not to mention the stupidity—to put myself in this position again, so it was now or never. “For fuck’s sake, Joel. For once in your life be a man. I know your dad died and you never had the male role model you obviously needed, but what you’re doing to us, your family, is wrong. You know

that. You can’t push me around and slap me and throw me on the floor and take all the money and leave us with nothing. Or cut your own children out of your life but still stay in the same house. How can you possibly think that this is all okay? I know you, or at least I used to, and that man I knew, he would never have let things turn out like this. What happened to him?” Furious, Joel threw me across the room, watching as I fell backwards off the coffee table. My wrist was broken at best, shattered at worst. I tried to put some weight on it to help me up and yelped in agony. “Gillian, stop threatening me. You know you don’t have the balls to do

anything about it. This is my life. If you won’t leave, then deal with it. I’m not going to change for you. I’m not going to change for anyone.” He laughed a deep, tyrannical laugh. He towered over me, leering as I clutched at my wrist. I wanted to kick him as hard as I could and put him in real physical pain. He disgusted me, standing over me, naked. I wanted nothing more than to vomit on the carpet. “Now, Gillian, run over to my mother’s place and hide,” he sneered. I couldn’t conceal my terror. I had no idea that Joel knew where we went. “Oh, you didn’t think I knew about that, did you? Well, you might want to tell your bigmouthed children to keep your secrets a

bit better. I know everything.” He turned and walked away. The last thing I heard before his bedroom door slammed was, “We’re done. Get the hell out of my house and don’t come back. Go on, run to my Mummy and tell her that big bad mean Joel hurt you.” And he was gone. The conversation was over. And I was a mess. My wrist hung limply in my lap. I was sure my neck was covered in deep, unexplainable red marks. Not to mention the cuts and scrapes on my back, legs, and hips. My face felt like it was on fire from the slap and my knee was barely able to hold my weight. Pitifully, I dragged my battered body up off the carpet and limped out the front door. I

hadn’t even made it to my car when Heidi’s red Mazda came to a screeching halt beside me. At the sight of her I collapsed on the gravel and burst into a torrent of tears.

Chapter Twenty-Four Joel In his room, Joel collapsed on the

bed, exhausted. Another outburst with his wife had drained him of what little energy he had left. His head had still been pounding from the night before and then Gillian had come home carrying on like she was some kind of battered wife who knew what was best. Telling him that he had to get out of his own house. With his hands on his hips, Joel just shook his head. “Who does she think she is?” he asked himself repetitively. For a long time Joel sat there, completely naked, and not even noticing. He looked around his room and saw what had become of his life. His room was his prison. The only difference was he could sneak out at night and find himself the next conjugal visitor.

Everything he owned had been squirreled away. What was once the walk-in wardrobe filled with Armani and Versace suits, all immaculately pressed and lined up, was now filled with clothes tossed in piles and shoved wherever they fitted. In the en suite all traces of Gillian’s makeup and sweet smelling perfume were gone. Instead, on the vanity next to Joel’s cheap disposable razor, was a generic brand kettle and a tin of instant coffee. Even the sight of it made Joel want to scream. It was all just a painful reminder of how far he had fallen. Last night’s conquest’s clothes littered his floor, along with a month’s worth of empty bourbon and vodka

bottles. A few empty pizza boxes gave the room a peculiar odor which Joel hadn’t noticed before but now it was more overpowering and repugnant than hospital disinfectant. And then it hit him. This time he had gone too far. Instantly regret flooded him and he wanted to know that Gillian was all right. Sobriety was immediate. In the past Joel had picked his battles well and he had possessed enough control not to go too far, not to hurt her too much. This had been the case since after the night when he had punched her in the stomach, causing all sorts of complications, not only with his mother, who had watched the whole thing, but also with Gillian’s pregnancy. He’d been fanatical about

being able to hide the bruises. But not this time. This time Gillian had come home looking for a fight. She was angry, agitated, and aggressive. For the first time in a decade, Joel saw that she was filled with the passion he once loved about her. This only helped things get even further out of hand. He now prayed feverishly that she had enough sense to hide what he could almost guarantee were going to be marks on her neck and her wrist. Surely she would need medical help with that one. Would she tell someone what had happened? She never had in the past, so maybe she would keep her mouth shut again. But maybe wasn’t enough to rely on. He had

never gone that far either. Panicked, Joel didn’t know whether he had pushed her over the edge and the police would be knocking any moment. Determined not to let this ruin his life, Joel jumped up with a renewed sense of responsibility. He couldn’t deny the bruising, and he knew he couldn’t lie his way out of a broken wrist and the scratches on her neck if the police came looking, but he could lie his way out of pretty much everything else. She had no proof. Gillian was too dumb, too worried about other people’s perceptions to cover her arse, and Joel resolved in that moment to cover his. He darted into the shower and washed away the filth, the whore from last night, the

smell of Gillian’s vanilla perfume on his skin. For ten minutes he stood under the scalding water and scrubbed ferociously. He emerged a new man. Freshly shaven, he slipped on the only clean white shirt he owned and a pair of ill-fitting Calvin Klein jeans. His once lean frame hung over the waistband, reminding him that he hadn’t been for a run in years. Yet another thing that Gillian had caused to fall apart. Once he was up and moving he worked like a crazed man. Haunted by an invisible force, Joel scooped up the piles of clothes from his bedroom floor, pausing only to pick out those clothes that weren’t his, and took them straight to the laundry. Even through all the

trouble, Gillian had still washed his clothes. He would dump them in a pile on the floor, unsorted and without checking the pockets, and a day or two later a basket would be dumped outside his locked bedroom door full of fresh laundry. They weren’t ironed or folded like they had once been, but Joel never complained. He wasn’t the husband he once had been, so he considered any victory worth having. But today Gillian wouldn’t be doing it. It took him twenty minutes to locate the washing powder and the fabric softener, work out where it went, and how to start the machine, but as the gentle hum began, Joel felt like he had accomplished something. Joel grabbed some garbage bags from

the kitchen cupboards and returned to his room, realizing for the first time what he had done to his family. It was shocking and he suddenly felt violently ill. The cupboards were empty. And it wasn’t just food missing—it was everything. There were only a few mismatched glasses that looked as if they had once upon a time contained jam. There were no teaspoons at all. Foil was stacked in piles. It had obviously been used to wrap something, washed off, and hoarded to be used again. A solitary loaf of bread with the beginnings of mould accumulating on the end was the extent of the fresh food, and only three tins of generic brand spaghetti sat behind it. Joel couldn’t control it any longer. He

turned to the kitchen sink and purged. For a full five minutes Joel threw up everything in his stomach. When nothing was left, he stood there dry retching until his eyes watered. Completely exhausted, Joel pushed through the pain barrier. Grabbing the garbage bags, he slammed the pantry door closed in repugnance and retreated to his bedroom, where there were no surprises. An hour later all the bottles and pizza boxes and trashy clothes were gone. Both the recycling and the normal rubbish bin were both overflowing and Joel had to put all his weight on them just to get them closed, but the mess was gone. The bedroom curtains were open, and for the first time in over twelve

months Joel’s bedroom floor saw sunlight. Once Joel was finished with the rubbish he just moved on and kept going. Soon the kitchen cabinets were once again restocked with all the things he had buried in his bedroom for the past couple of years. The dinner set was returned and placed in the cupboard, the crystal wine glasses were rinsed and lined up neatly in the cabinets, and the cutlery drawer was once again filled. Now there were teaspoons and dessert spoons. No longer would Gillian be forced to measure her coffee with a butter knife. But Joel still wasn’t satisfied. The reasoning behind his frantic efforts was simple and selfish—

he was extremely worried that this time Gillian would tell someone what had happened and they would come to the house. He knew that he had done the wrong thing and that the years past would take a lot to make up, but he needed Gillian to stay. As much as he told her to get out and did everything in his power to drive her out, he needed her to stay, to give him the chance to make up for everything he had done to her. Next thing Joel jumped in the car and took off to the nearest supermarket. He was going to stock the fridge and pantry, something he hadn’t done since the day Gillian moved in. Once she began living there it was one of those chores that just

became hers. The difference was that for years she’d had access to the joint bank account and paid for the groceries from there. But then Joel had cut that off too, and pretty soon the lack of food, and especially fresh food, had been limited to what Gillian could afford on her meager salary. Joel grabbed a trolley and began pushing it down the aisle. He was halfway down when he realized he had no idea what he was supposed to get. What did kids eat? What were they allergic to? He had absolutely no idea. But then he found one. A short frumpy woman in front of him had a long list and was throwing items into her own trolley with wild abandon. So he started

following her, copying what she bought. It seemed normal enough. Muesli bars, juice boxes, single serving packets of chips, the list went on and on. Then Joel started to think. He remembered having all that sort of stuff in his lunch box when he was a kid, so surely that would be good enough to satisfy his own children. By the time the sun was setting, Joel was exhausted. Not just physically from the cleaning and moving stuff about, but on edge emotionally too. He didn’t know who to expect to come storming through the front door and let him have it. His mother. Gillian’s girlfriends. The police. The Department of Community Services. He couldn’t shake the memory of the

defeated look on Gillian’s face as she heard the snap in her wrist. The pained, terrified expression in her eyes. But no one came. He sat there in the silence as night fell and just waited. His children never came home. Not even a text message to say where they were. And no sign of Gillian. Joel was beginning to wonder if he should try and track her down just to make sure she was okay, but thought better of it. After today’s effort she might think he was coming back for round two, and Joel knew she had every right to feel that way. Instead, Joel just drifted off to sleep on the couch and waited for them to come home. He needn’t have bothered.

They didn’t come home that night.

Chapter Twenty-Five Gillian Usually Heidi was the most cautious

driver I knew, but today she wasn’t herself. Instead, some rally car driver inhabited her body as she flew through traffic, even running a red light despite my desperate pleas to slow down. “I have to get you to hospital,” she stated repetitively. “No!” I said as forcefully as I could muster, which in all honesty was nothing more than a meek little whisper. “Gillian, just shut up complaining. You are going to the hospital and I don’t want to hear any more about it. That wrist needs someone to look at it,” she snapped severely. I glanced down at the lifeless wrist in my hand and tried to wiggle my fingers. Frustratingly, they wouldn’t budge. I

knew it was broken and someone needed to look at it, but I didn’t want to admit it. Then I would have to admit that I had been stupid enough to go up against Joel thinking that I could possibly win. Another silent tear trickled down my cheek. I thought I’d gotten away with it, but Heidi saw me looking miserable and reached over and patted my thigh gently. She touched me as if I was glass, so fragile that even the tiniest amount of pressure would break me. And in that moment, it just may have. “How did you get to my place so fast? I had barely been in the house five minutes,” I asked, trying to think things through logically. “Are you kidding me? You send me a

cryptic text me saying you are going home and if I haven’t heard from you in an hour to call the police. Like hell I’m waiting an hour to check on you. And I’m glad I didn’t. He could have killed you in an hour and buried your body.” I felt myself recoil on the seat beside her. Even though I knew she was right, I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact. Just the thought of Joel burying my body was enough to turn my body rigid with fear. “Oh,” was all I managed to offer. “Yeah, oh. I told my boss it was an emergency and flew over here. You’re paying any speeding fine and red light cameras that I got done by today, just so you know.” Heidi laughed, trying to lighten the situation.

Up ahead I could see the hospital and suddenly I was filled with a trembling fear. I had already learnt that hospitals ask questions. And when you don’t answer them they just send specialist after specialist down to keep asking. The same questions in different ways. It was almost like that was their fee for treating me. It would only cost me the truth. And they had no idea what the real price of that truth was. “Gillian?” Heidi looked over at me, worried. “You okay?” “No.” “You can do this. You need to do this. You need to show them your wrist and your neck and your knee and anything else that you haven’t even told me about.

I want you thoroughly checked out. We’re not leaving here until I’m satisfied you’re okay to go home.” “You’re staying?” “Of course.” Heidi smiled, pulling into a drop off park behind an ambulance that was being restocked by a very attractive young ambulance officer. “I’m not going to leave you here. You go in. I’ll just go and park and I will be right behind you. I promise.” “Okay,” I agreed, the throbbing pain in my body barely tolerable. I watched as Heidi jumped out, ran around, and opened my door for me, helping me out of the car. I was still very unstable on my feet, wobbling about, barely able to hold myself up.

“Excuse me?” Heidi called out to the ambulance officer I had only moments ago been admiring. He turned around and faced me and I realized he was more dashing than I had given him credit for. “Would you be able to help me get my friend inside?” she asked, flashing him her best smile. “I’ll grab a wheelchair,” he agreed, darting inside the automatic doors. “Are you flirting with him?” I asked, forcing myself to focus on anything but what was going on. “There’s got to be one good thing to come out of all this mess.” Heidi giggled like the teenage girl I remembered. He reappeared and together Heidi and Nathan, as I discovered his name to be,

lowered me into the chair. “I’ll take her through if you like, that way you can move your car,” he offered sincerely, flashing a million dollar smile. Shockingly, I felt even my icecold heart melt a little. “Thanks,” Heidi said. “Gillian, I’m right behind you. And please tell them the truth,” she begged. I didn’t intend to be alarmed by her comment; I should have seen it coming. Joel had hurt me so many times before that no one kept count any more. But it had never been this severe before. I knew Heidi wanted me to tell someone, anyone, what he had done, but I couldn’t. There were things that Heidi didn’t understand. Things she could never

comprehend. Without another word, Nathan pushed me through the crowded waiting room and straight into an examination room. “Aren’t I jumping the queue?” I asked. I didn’t want to put anyone out; I wasn’t that bad. “Yes and no. If you are brought in by ambulance you go straight in, so no, you aren’t jumping the queue because I brought you in. But yes, you did because you didn’t technically arrive at the hospital by ambulance. But the injuries I can see, the ones around your neck have me worried, so I want you checked out as soon as possible,” Nathan explained as his beeper exploded. “Sorry, I have to run. You’ll be safe here and the doctor is

on his way. Oh, here she is now. You’re safe, Gillian. He can’t get to you in here,” he repeated knowingly. I hated myself. After spending only two minutes with me, Nathan had already picked up on the panic and shame that consumed me completely. And he could see the truth. I don’t know if it was the fear in my eyes or the fact that he had seen the same thing a million times before in his occupation, but the fact that he knew the truth scared me beyond words. A moment later Nathan had vanished and left me with the tiniest lady I had ever seen. She took one look at my drooping wrist and sent me straight down to x-ray. With my working arm I

rubbed at my pounding knee. Even those few short moments with weight on it had been enough to exacerbate the pain shooting through my whole body. The young orderly pushing me along in the wheelchair saw me rubbing at my knee. “Do we need to check that too?” he asked, indicating my knee. “I’m sure it will be fine. Just a bit tender,” I lied. I had no idea how bad it was and I didn’t want to look. I was afraid that it would be worse than the pain and I didn’t have time to deal with a leg problem as well as a broken wrist. Seeing the desperation on my face, he said nothing more to me, but as I was moved into the x-ray the lady operating the machines came out from behind her

little protective cubicle wearing her iron vest and told me that they would be checking my wrist and my leg. I didn’t have the energy to argue. They could check it. At least then we would know. Two hours later I was upstairs lying in my private room, Heidi sitting beside me. I was waiting for surgery. My wrist, as expected, was broken badly, and would require some pins to hold it together. Surgery would be later on that night, so I couldn’t eat or drink anything. My knee was also pretty badly damaged. It wasn’t broken, but the tendons had been hyper-extended and my knee cap had a tiny piece of bone that had chipped off and was now floating about somewhere in my leg.

“Don’t worry about the kids. I’ve already spoken to Adele, and she’s going to pick them up from school and take them back to her place tonight,” Heidi explained. “You didn’t tell her, did you?” I asked, panicked. “No, I gave her no details. I didn’t need to.” I pressed the button the nurse had thrust into my hand before she’d left. It was my pain management button. All I had to do was press it and I would instantly be administered a dose of morphine and then I would feel blissfully unaware of everything. “Joel did this, didn’t he?” Heidi asked nervously.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I rolled away from her and closed my eyes. Suddenly I was so tired I couldn’t even keep my head up. “Gillian, enough is enough. Did Joel do this?” she repeated. I stared at her blankly. Heidi just stared back at me, patiently waiting for an answer. She deserved one. She had come running without me even asking her to. Heidi was the one to pick me up off the driveway and race me to the hospital despite all my protests. I owed her the truth, if for no other reason than to admit it to someone, someone who wouldn’t judge me. Eventually, I looked into Heidi’s searching eyes and saw the loving, caring, kind, and compassionate

friend I had always known. “Yes,” was all I could offer before the tears came for both of us. Time passed and nothing was said. Then Heidi’s phone beeped, another text had come through. “Rhiannon is on her way,” was all Heidi offered. I raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. “Yes, I rang her. I panicked and called her. But don’t worry, it’s just Rhiannon. She loves you and she won’t tell anyone. But right now we both need her. It’s not just about you, Gillian. I need her right now as much as you do!” I knew she was one hundred and ten percent right. If I could trust anyone with my secrets it was Rhiannon. But right now I didn’t want to say anything. I just

wanted to be left alone. I looked at Heidi. She had been amazing. But right now, dosed high on morphine and embarrassment, I needed a rest. “Heidi, I love you,” I began feeling guilty, knowing what I was about to say. “But would you mind giving me some time? I’m so tired. I just need to get some rest.” With a curious look, Heidi gathered up her handbag. “Okay, Gillian. I’m going to go down to the coffee shop to get some lunch. Need anything?” she offered. I wasn’t sure if she believed me or she just didn’t want to argue, but Heidi had come through when I needed her. “I’m fine. But thank you. For everything.

I’m just so tired I just need to get some sleep and I’ll be back to my normal self,” I lied. It would take a lot more than a nap to get me back to normal, but neither of us were going to point that out. “I’ll come back in a while. Try to get some rest and don’t think about it. We’ll deal with it later. One thing at a time. Let’s get you back on your feet first.” Heidi smiled, leaning over and kissing me lightly on the head before disappearing out the door. I was glad for the peace and quiet. I needed time to be on my own and just think. How was I going to get out of this one? How could I possibly have been so stupid to go to the house and attack him? I had this coming. I deserved what I got.

There was no point feeling sorry for myself. And I didn’t want anyone else feeling sorry for me either. But despite the personal torture I was inflicting on myself I managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep for a while. It felt like my eyes had only been closed for five minutes but when the nurse hovering over me woke me up I was amazed to see an hour and a half had passed. She checked my vitals, asked some questions about my pain levels, to which I just murmured some sleepy answer, and then told me my surgery had been delayed a while. They were still hoping to get me in tonight, but they couldn’t guarantee it. At that point I didn’t care.

“Can I please make a phone call?” I asked. As I came out of my sleepy state I realized that all I wanted to do was talk to my kids. They needed to know that I loved them and that I hadn’t abandoned them. They needed to know that I wouldn’t be home tonight, but I would be tomorrow, and the night after that and the night after that. “Sure, I’ll just grab you the handset. Do you know the number or would you like me to look one up for you?” she offered helpfully. “Thanks, I know this one.” Moments later I was talking in hushed tones down the phone to Adele. She was pleading with me not to go to the police

and at the same time apologizing relentlessly for Joel’s latest outburst. I knew Adele blamed herself personally for this, but it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t there and she had absolutely nothing to do with it. Joel was a grown man who made his own bad choices. And one day he would have to pay for them. “Can I speak to the kids?” I asked nervously. I didn’t want them to know what happened but I wouldn’t lie to them either. How much they found out would depend on what questions they asked. Lucas was first on the phone and, like a normal five-year-old he didn’t once ask where I was or when I was coming home. Instead, he just told me all about

his day and the finger painting he had done of a kite flying in the sky. Then he handed the phone to Bianca, who was a bit more inquisitive, but not so much so that I had to tell her where I was. “Nana said you were with Aunty Heidi and Aunty Rhiannon?” she asked innocently. “Yeah, I am, sweetheart. Is that okay?” “Yep,” she sung merrily. I was grateful for Bianca’s cheerful disposition. “Did you want to talk to Charli?” she offered. I wanted to say no. My head was screaming to say no, but I couldn’t do it. “If she’s there,” I agreed, knowing she was hovering over Bianca, waiting for the phone to be passed over to her.

“Hi Mum,” she said curtly. “Hi darling, how was your day?” I asked, trying to keep things as normal as possible. “Where are you?” “I’m with Aunty Rhiannon and Aunty Heidi,” I replied. In the distance I could hear the wail of the ambulance siren getting closer and closer to the hospital. I prayed that Charli didn’t pick up on it. “Yeah, Nana told me that. But where are you?” My blood ran cold. She knew something. And if she didn’t know, she suspected. “I’m at the hospital,” was all I managed, giving her as little information as I could. I heard her gulping on the other end of

the phone line. “Are you okay?” she asked, no louder than a whisper. “Yes, sweetheart, I’m fine. See, I’m talking to you. I’m okay.” I tried to hold it together and steady my voice, but the innocence on the other end of the phone broke my heart. Tears streamed down my face as Rhiannon and Heidi emerged, both carrying paper cups of just warm coffee. Immediately they started towards me, arms out ready for a hug, but I shook my head at them and they froze on the spot, both staring at me intently. “I want to come and see you,” Charli insisted. “Now’s not a good time. Visiting hours are over. I promise I’m fine. I’ll be home tomorrow.” I prayed that I was

telling the truth. I didn’t want to let her down. But the way my surgery kept getting bumped back, a part of me doubted that I would even be home in a week. “What did he do to you?” She cried openly now. And that was the end of me. I couldn’t restrain the tears any longer. Charli cried at me and I couldn’t help it but sob back at her. “Nothing, sweetheart, it was just an accident. Mummy’s hurt her wrist and needs a cast on it, that’s all. The doctors will put the cast on, hopefully tonight or tomorrow morning, and I’ll be home after that.” My heart broke. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. I felt like a fraud.

“Mummy, please,” she begged. I could hear Adele in the background shooing Bianca and Lucas away from anything that they could overhear. “Please, I want to see you.” And more than anything I wanted to see her. If just to prove to her I was okay. “Okay, okay, Charli. Calm down. Stop crying. Aunty Heidi is going to drive over to Nana’s right now and pick you up. She will bring you here to me and then she will take you back again. I don’t want you to worry.” My eyes never left Heidi’s and she just nodded her agreement, silently slipping her handbag over her shoulder and heading for the door. “She’s leaving now, so make sure you have some shoes on. She won’t be

long.” “Okay,” she spluttered. I could tell she was trying to pull herself together and I admired her strength and persistence. “I’ll see you in a little bit.” I smiled inwardly, wondering how I was going to hide the truth from her once she was in front of me. “I love you, Mummy,” she murmured. “See you in a minute.” And she clicked off. She never heard me reply, “I love you too, Charli.” Rhiannon didn’t even let me wipe my eyes with my one useable hand. “What the fuck happened?” she asked angrily. I had never seen her so furious before.

Rhiannon had a serious temper and it was at boiling point. I wondered how I could calm her down, but I had no ideas and no energy. “Calm down, Rhiannon. I’m okay. It’s my own stupid fault anyway,” I began dismissively. “Don’t be daft!” she retorted. “How do you figure that?” I knew I needed to get this done before Charli arrived. Rhiannon was seething and I had only a limited time to explain what had happened and calm her down before I was once again a bubbling mess of tears with my daughter curled up on my lap. “I went there looking for a fight,” I offered in a way of explanation.

“What? Why?” “Because last night I had to take the kids to Adele’s. Again. And I was humiliated. That’s three times this week we’ve had to flee our own home in the middle of the night and sneak into her house. Did you know that Bianca calls the spare room at Adele’s place her bedroom? That’s how much time she spends there. She had clothes and toys and everything there. And Charli keeps asking why we have to leave. Why couldn’t Joel just leave? There is only one of him and four of us, it just doesn’t seem fair. And I don’t have an answer for her. Not a good one, anyway. So I went there. Back to our home. And I asked him to leave. I told him the truth.

That his kids didn’t want to come home while he was there. I let him have it. The ugly, undeniable truth. And well, you can see for yourself how well he took that.” And there it was. The truth. The unexpected, uninvited, and unacceptable truth. For a moment Rhiannon looked at me with eyes filled with sadness and pity. Then she shook her head and said, “Well, what happens next?” “Nothing. There’s nothing I can do.” “Bullshit!” she snapped harshly, strength possessing her. “You’re going to tell the police. And you need to tell them the truth. The whole truth. Not the Gillian truth, where most of the important parts are conveniently left

out.” I sat up in the bed, squinting as the pain shot through me with every movement. “No, Rhiannon. I’m not.” “Why the fuck not?” she asked loudly, moving towards the door and pushing it closed with a thud. “Because I have no proof. There would be no point. It’s my word against his.” And there it was. The blatant truth. Every time something like this had happened Joel had been careful enough to make sure no one was around. No one had ever seen him be anything other than charming towards me. So who would believe me? I would come off looking like the bad guy for kicking him when he was down. He would play the depressed

card, how he had lost his job and then as a result he had lost his family. “Grow a brain, Gillian. I know he smacked you around the head a bit but you are not that dumb. I know you. And I know you aren’t. Do you not think that all the x-rays over the years that are kept on your file won’t back up your story of years of abuse? Or that those hand prints on your neck aren’t classified as evidence?” Rhiannon almost yelled. “Keep your voice down,” I pleaded. Rhiannon looked at me and saw me shrinking away from her. I think she thought I was waiting for her to hit me too. “Gillian, I love you, but enough is enough. You need to let the police help you.”

Sighing, I looked up and saw the tenderness in her eyes. Rhiannon just wanted this to end. She didn’t want any more frantic phone calls from the hospital or any more of me showing up on her doorstep in tears, three kids in tow. “You don’t know what he’s like. He can be very charming and very charismatic when he wants to be. No one will believe me. And things will get worse. He would kill me if he knew I told you about it.” “Gillian, the way things are going, he’s going to kill you regardless of whether I know or not.” The words hung heavily in the air. Rhiannon was right. When Joel had me pinned to the wall by my throat and I

was struggling to breathe, I barely recognized him. His eyes were empty. He felt no remorse, no pain, nothing. I meant nothing to him. “Rhiannon?” I began, but she sat on the end of the bed and held her hand up, stopping me mid-sentence. “Just listen to me, please. Hear me out. Okay, let’s say you do go to the police and tell them everything. And I mean everything. The years of being slapped around. The lack of financial support for your children. The dead bolt on the bedroom door and everything else. Then they go and confront Joel. And he plays his part perfectly. He is the charming, sophisticated man you once knew. Do you not think the police will

see through that? They’re trained to spot bullshit. All the lies in the world aren’t going to be enough to get him out of this one.” “He’ll justify it. He always does.” I smiled sadly. I knew I was defeated and the police couldn’t help. Even if Rhiannon didn’t accept that reality, I did. “Well, Gillian, tell me this. How is he going to lie his way around those marks on your neck where he wrapped his own hands and tried to help you take your last breath? How is he going to explain that one?” She left the question hanging between us. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. In my head I knew she was probably right. But I still couldn’t

imagine doing it. Instead, I pushed the button in my hand and got another hit of morphine, hoping the throbbing in my head would go away. Morphine was probably a bit over the top for a headache, but it was the easiest right now. “Rhiannon, I love you, but please let me just deal with it my way. Can you do that?” I asked after a while, my eyes half closed and my speech badly slurred. Rhiannon lay down next to me and as gently as she could, she hugged me. “The only way I will agree to that is if you do something about it. It has to stop, Gillian. You need to stop it or he will kill you. Your children need you to stop it.”

“I know,” was all I could say. I knew she was right. But I had no idea where to go or what to do from there. We lay there in silence, Rhiannon stroking my arm softly. It was comforting, and considering I was lying in the hospital waiting for surgery, it was the best I had felt in months. It wasn’t long before Charli was standing in the doorway. “Hi sweetie,” was all I managed to say before she burst into tears and slid down the door frame. Foolishly, I hadn’t expected it to be that hard on her. I knew I looked average at best, but I didn’t realize the effect it would have on Charli. Hearing Charli’s sobs, Rhiannon climbed off the bed. “It’s okay. Come on.

Jump up here next to Mum. She’s okay,” Rhiannon tried, but Charli just cried harder. “We’ll give you a minute.” Heidi smiled the best she could, leading Rhiannon from the room. “Hey munchkin. You doing okay?” I asked, hugging her as tightly as I could. Through the barrage of sobs she nodded and then looked up at me. Her wide eyes weren’t sad, they were petrified. “Mum, are you okay?” “I’m fine, sweetie, I promise,” I said, squeezing her again. “I look worse than it is. My wrist is broken, like I told you, and I’m waiting for them to take me into surgery and fix it.” “Does it hurt?”

“A little bit. But they’re giving me some medication to help, so it’s okay. How are you? How was your day at school?” I tried directing the topic away from my problems. The less Charli knew, the better it would be for her. “I’m scared,” she admitted, burying her head against my neck. Involuntarily I winced in pain. She had unwittingly put pressure on some of the green bruises gathering on my throat. “What are you scared of?” “Dad.” I didn’t know what to say. There was nothing in the parenting handbook to tell me what to do or what to say next. The truth was I was scared of her dad and I couldn’t bring myself to assure her that

she had nothing to be scared of. Because the truth was I didn’t know if she did or not. I knew I didn’t want him anywhere near them. For their own safety I wanted them as far away from him as possible. But telling that to a very fragile, very young girl wasn’t an option either. “Don’t be scared. You are completely safe with Grandma. You can stay with her until I come home, which will either be tomorrow or the day after. Then everything can go back to normal. I promise.” And I meant it. Once this was over I wasn’t going to try and bait Joel again. Rhiannon’s words had struck home, even if she didn’t know it. Although I couldn’t tell anyone what had happened, it didn’t mean I didn’t believe

them. “What if I don’t want things to go back to how they are?” she asked naïvely. “What do you mean?” “I’m not going home while he’s there. He hurts you, Mum. And I know he hasn’t hurt me, but I don’t want to see you in hospital again. You think I don’t know it, but I do. And so does Bianca. But we don’t tell you about it, because you don’t want to talk about it,” she cried wholeheartedly. I didn’t know what to say. I was stunned. If I had known the extent of the things they knew, everything would certainly be different. “Charli,” I began to cry back at her. For a long time we

just sat there, holding onto each other for dear life crying. There was no pain in my arm anymore, just an aching in my heart. Soon Charli tired herself out and fell asleep on my chest. Although the weight of her was putting me in more agony than I could bear, I refused to wake her or try and move. Rhiannon and Heidi reappeared and sat silently beside us. For a long time we sat quietly, consumed in our own thoughts. “Heidi,” I whispered. “Can you please take her home?” “Sure,” she said, glad to be able to do something. “And Rhiannon, I love you, but you need to go home too. I’m so tired and so

drugged I can’t take anymore tonight. I’m fine. Like you said, I’m safe here. So go home and get some sleep. I beg of you,” I pleaded. “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly. “But I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning.” There was no point arguing. Gently I woke Charli, who sat up immediately and looked around anxiously. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? What’s happening?” she gushed, scouring the room. “Sssh. Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. It’s time to go back to Grandma’s,” I explained. “But I want to stay here with you,” Charli pleaded. “Come on now. Mum needs to rest so

she can have surgery tomorrow. I promise I’ll bring you back tomorrow afternoon after school. How ’bout I pick you up and we’ll come straight here?” Heidi offered. I was grateful to my girlfriends. Not only did they look out for me and help me whenever and with whatever I needed, but they always went above and beyond with my kids as well. I couldn’t have asked for better friends than that. But they were more than friends. They were my family. “Is that okay, Mum?” Charli asked hopefully. How could I say no? “Of course it is. Now go on. All of you go home and let me get some sleep,” I instructed as

forcefully as I could. Grudgingly they all lined up, wished me a good night’s sleep, kissed my forehead, and disappeared out the door. I thought I would be asleep in mere seconds, but two hours later I was still staring into the darkness listening to the gentle hum of the machines, replaying the nightmare of a day. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I don’t remember being wheeled down the corridor and into the operating room.

Chapter Twenty-Six Joel Joel woke with the sun. The house

was still and silent. It was weird. Joel usually ranted and raved and complained about the morning noise and the chaos as Gillian tried to get three kids fed and dressed and out the door, but today he missed it. He jumped in the shower, taking time to work out the kinks from his neck. While the couch was comfortable for a couple of hours, sleeping on it wasn’t. After his shower, Joel sat in the kitchen for the first time in years and ate his breakfast. And for the first time in as long as he could remember he awoke alone and without a hangover. Sitting there eating his vegemite toast, he didn’t know whether it was a good thing or if the loneliness was too much.

When the silence was overwhelming and Joel couldn’t stand it anymore, he grabbed the phone and punched in his mother’s number. He hadn’t used it in over six years, but still he knew it by heart. “Hello,” she answered stoically. “Hi Mum, it’s me,” Joel offered timidly. He heard the phone drop, then some muttering as Adele fought to pick it up. Her shock was evident even across town. “Hello, Joel. How are you?” she asked dispassionately. “I’m doing okay, Mum. How have you been?” “I’m fine. Look, I’m rather busy right now; can I call you back later this

afternoon?” Joel thought he heard faith there, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he offered desperately. “No, no. I’m fine. Just a bit busy is all.” “No problem. Can I just talk to Gillian for a second then?” “She’s actually not here at the moment, Joel. But I can give her a message if you like,” Adele offered, her tone shaky. “Where is she then?” His voice hitched slightly. “Look, Joel,” Adele countered. “She’s not here and I’m very busy. Now is not a good time. I’ll call you this

afternoon.” “For fuck’s sake, Mother! Stop being such a lying bitch and just tell me where the fuck my wife is. I know she hides at your place. And you let her! Don’t you remember that you’re supposed to be my mother, not hers?” Joel listened as Adele sucked in a deep breath and counted to five. “Joel Jacob Matthews, I am your mother and you will not speak to me like that. And secondly, I know exactly where your wife is, and if you don’t, then that’s the best thing she has done in a long time. You need to stop, and stop now. You know you could go to jail for what you’ve done? I raised you better than this. Grow up, Joel. Be a man and take

some responsibility for yourself for a change. Now I have to go. Someone has to make sure your kids get to school on time.” *** Adele Stepping back from the phone, Adele was shaking profusely. Although she hadn’t told Joel where Gillian was, she had exacerbated the situation. And told him that she had the kids. Now she was just praying feverishly that he stayed away from them. But she didn’t have time to worry. She had to get them in the car and on their way to school. For some

reason this morning Charli wouldn’t eat her breakfast and barely made a peep. She just did what she needed to do and kept going. She helped Lucas with his shoes, made her bed, packed her lunch, and tied up Bianca’s hair. But it was all done with a frown and in deathly silence. *** Joel Joel paced up and down like a caged beast, the frustration and anger growing with each step. His face was a twisted, distorted mess, covered in tiny sweat beads as he cursed and muttered under

his breath. Then, unexpectedly and out of nowhere, he let out a booming howl. “Where the fuck is she?” he cried to no one. Only the echo of his voice answered him. The rage grew. Joel quickly tired of standing around waiting for his fate to knock on the door. Instead, he grabbed his car keys and took off. He went to all the places he thought of. He drove past Rhiannon’s but the blinds were shut and there was no sign of life. It didn’t mean she wasn’t there, but finding out at this stage was more trouble than it was worth. He went to Heidi’s but it too looked deserted. It was the middle of the day; maybe she was at work. He drove to her building and parked innocently out

the front. Instead of risking alarming Gillian by ringing her office phone, Joel called the main reception line and asked to speak to her. When he was told that she was off sick for the rest of the week he slammed his fist as hard as he could into the steering wheel. “Where the fuck is she?” he screamed. Giving up, Joel headed home, stopping on the way for another bottle of bourbon. All his hard work putting their home back together wasn’t appreciated by his so-called wife. She wouldn’t even come home. The bottle didn’t even make it home unopened. Instead, as soon as he was in the car, he was taking long swigs straight from the bottle.

It took barely twenty minutes for it to be half empty. Joel sobbed as he drank alone in the middle of the day. But the sadness was soon replaced by fury and Joel grabbed his phone. First he rang Gillian’s mobile, and when she didn’t answer he left a toxic message on her voice mail. He demanded that she return his call immediately and come home. They had things to discuss. When she hadn’t called back half an hour later, Joel, having downed another quarter of the bottle and clinging to consciousness, sent her a scrambled abusive text message telling her what a whore she was and that he couldn’t believe he had been so dumb to marry her. He added casually that she deserved whatever she

had gotten and if she didn’t make it home in the next twenty minutes there would be more of that where it came from. His ranting over, Joel finished the bottle and passed out on his bed. He was awoken hours later by two burly policemen in uniform standing over him. “Get up,” the larger of the two instructed. Joel tried to sit up but his head was spinning. He could barely focus on anything, let alone the two towering over him. Joel was still too drunk to even begin to guess what was going on. “How can I help you gentleman?” he slurred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You need to come to the station with

us for a little chat,” the smaller one directed, reaching out and taking him by the arm and helping him up. Joel was wobbly on his feet. “Have you been drinking today, sir?” “Have you?” Joel asked, cocky. “Go and wash your face and sober up. And hurry up about it. We don’t have all day,” the bigger cop commanded. Sensing there was trouble brewing, Joel shut up and went and did as he was told. He washed his face and suddenly felt scared. Why were the police in his house? Then he remembered. It hit him like a tonne of bricks. Where was Gillian? She had done this to him, instinctively he knew it. “Hurry up!” came the roaring voice

through the rooms, carrying with it a sense of authority. Joel staggered back to the bedroom. “You ready?” one of the police officers asked. Joel just nodded. The serious look on their faces told him it wasn’t a joke and it was in his best interest to shut up and behave, but inside he was seething. Gillian would pay for this. Sitting in the back seat of the marked police car, Joel felt like his whole world was crashing down around him. Someone had said something and now his mind was racing as he tried to come up with excuses and alibis to counter whatever they thought they knew. His head was still woozy and as much as he wished it wasn’t the case, Joel was still

drunk. A bottle of bourbon didn’t just magically evaporate out of your body when the boys in blue came knocking. Or in Joel’s case, just helped themselves and came on in. By the time he arrived at the station Joel was sweating profusely. When he tried to open the door and get out he was absolutely shitting himself when the door wouldn’t open. The child-lock must have been on. The larger of the officers chuckled with delight as he watched Joel fight with the handle. He opened the door and Joel fell out on the asphalt, scraping his hands. The officer just smiled a coy, cunning smile. They had travelled in complete silence, not even the radio quietly in the background. It

was enough to drive a person mad. Satisfied that Joel was sufficiently terrified, they led him up the stairs and into the station. Although he wasn’t handcuffed, Joel might has well have been, with one officer either side of him guiding him up the stairs one by one. It was as much for his own safety as it was for intimidation, but it worked for both. He was led straight into a tiny, bare, windowless room. Joel had seen enough cheesy cop movies to know that someone would appear any minute in a cheap suit, drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup, and begin asking him the same questions over and over again until they got the answers they wanted. But the truth was Joel had no idea what they

wanted. He didn’t know what they knew or what they thought they knew. Did he do something dumb at the pub the other night that they had only just found out about? Or were his worst fears justified? Had Gillian blabbed about their personal lives? “Mr. Matthews,” a stick figure of a man announced, poking out his hand and offering it to Joel. He was a rather odd looking man, with a cheap toupee of matted grey hair and eyes that were too close together, giving him the resemblance of a bug. “I’m Senior Sergeant Butcher,” he introduced himself. “Have a seat.” He dropped a manila folder on the metal table between them.

Joel slumped into the uncomfortable folding metal chair and waited as patiently as he could, his eyes not wavering from the folder between them even once. He was desperate to know the contents, but he already knew asking wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He would just have to wait. “So,” he said, opening the file and glancing through it before closing it again and placing it between them. He paused and took a sip of his coffee before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Joel was repulsed and tortured. The not knowing was the worst part. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he tempted. Gulping, Joel was trying desperately

to sober himself up. He didn’t want to say anything in case it wasn’t what they were talking about. “I’m not exactly sure what it is that you want to talk to me about,” he dodged, sweating openly now. “Your wife,” the Sergeant hinted, leaving the words hanging. Joel swallowed his terror and only managed to murmur, “Can I please have some water?” Frustrated, but not surprised, the Sergeant stood up and left the room to grab Joel a plastic cup of water. Joel knew that this too was a stalling tactic. With a smirk, Joel waited with his arms folded. He had seen enough cop shows to know that the idiot cop was hoping the

longer he left Joel alone the more likely he was to crack. Spill his secrets and confess to everything. “He obviously doesn’t know me,” Joel congratulated himself as he found his feet and began pacing. It was only six steps across and six steps back, but Joel was counting them like a man overcome by some unknown and unexpected force. “Can we continue?” Sergeant Butcher asked, returning to his seat. Joel finished the contents of the glass in one large mouthful but still felt thirsty. Maybe he wasn’t thirsty, maybe he was just scared. Not trusting himself to speak, Joel just nodded pathetically. He was twitchy now and felt like his skin was on fire. Everything had started to get to him.

First the car door that wouldn’t open, then the escort on either arm up the stairs, and now the windowless room with the tiny bug man; things were definitely not looking like this was going to be a good day. And on top of that the pounding headache that was slowly but surely consuming him. “So, Mr. Matthews,” he began formally, “would you like to tell me what happened between you and your wife?” Taking a deep, measured breath, Joel looked up. His years in real estate had taught him many things, avoidance and confidence being his favorite lessons. “I’m sorry, Sergeant, but I strongly believe that what happens between a

man and his wife in the confines of their own home is a private and personal matter and should be kept between them.” “I’m sorry you feel that way. However, when we have a complaint as serious as the one we have received, we must act. Unfortunately, your beliefs do not put you above the law.” Joel looked at the bug man and knew he was in trouble. This guy was good. Joel hesitated, carefully measuring his next move, determined not to be trapped into saying something he didn’t want to. He needed to know what the complaint was and who had made it. Probing wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the best option he had. “I understand

where you’re coming from,” Joel said, flashing the lopsided grin that had once made the girls swoon, but as he watched the Sergeant’s face droop he knew he was just pissing him off. “Maybe if I knew to which complaint you were referring I could sufficiently answer your questions. I would like to be as helpful as I can be on what sounds like a very serious matter.” Joel folded his hands on the table and sat up straight, reverting to his days as a successful business man. “Mr. Matthews,” the Sergeant began. “Please, call me Joel,” he offered with a wave of his hand. “Joel, then. Let’s cut the crap. You and I both know that I’m not going to tell

you who made this complaint and the exact nature. Now I just want to hear your side of it.” “You’re fucking kidding me, aren’t you? How am I supposed to give you my side of the story if you don’t tell me what you are referring to?” “Your wife is in hospital with a broken wrist, concussion, and some interesting art on her neck. Would you like to offer any suggestions of how that might have happened?” he teased. Joel sat frozen to the spot. With those few words his worst fears were confirmed. Gillian had blabbed. “It’s not what you think,” he panted, clinging to any truth he could remember. “It never is,” Sergeant Butcher

replied heartlessly. So Joel began the longest three hours of his life. Twice he asked to use the bathroom and twice he was told to keep going. As the minutes ticked over to hours, Joel told the Sergeant more than he intended. He confessed about the broken wrist and the kick to the knee and slamming Gillian against the wall and holding her there by her neck. After a while Sergeant Butcher blurted out, “Why did you do it?” “At the time, it made me feel better. Like I had some control again. Like I mattered. Like I was important,” Joel admitted, smiling sadly up at the officer in front of him. “So, what happens now?” he asked, not really fazed.

“You will be charged with assault. We have offered your wife an AVO against you,” he stated plainly. “Did she take it?” Suddenly the world snapped back into focus and Joel realized the size of this mistake. Then he was wondering if he could ever come back from his. For a long time he had been sinking into a black hole with no one to pull him out. He had tried different women and bottles, but nothing had been able to pull him out of the endless funk. For the first time in years his world was no longer blurry. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the seriousness of what was happening, but rather simply appreciated it. Someone was going to help him, not

that he would admit that he needed it, but these charges could make things better. Make him a better man. A better father. A better husband. A better person. Better for everyone. “We couldn’t speak to her when we went to the hospital. She was still in surgery,” Sergeant Butcher said blankly. The sergeant just watched the words sink in and the light come on in Joel’s eyes. He had baited him into asking, “If you haven’t even spoken to Gillian, how do you know about this?” Smiling, satisfied, the sergeant said nothing. He just stood up, scooped his things, and headed for the door. Just before he slammed it behind him, he looked at a very confused and

bewildered young man. “Your daughter,” he offered, with an eyebrow cocked quizzically as he walked away. For a long time Joel just sat there picking at his fingernails, still shocked at the revelation. He had assumed that his big mouthed wife had reported him, but was gobsmacked to discover that it was actually his own daughter who’d blabbed. He wanted to ask why. He wanted to understand it but the more the thoughts bubbled and stewed in his head the more he realized he didn’t want to know. There could be nothing more heartbreaking than hearing the reasons why your daughter reported you to the police. Even though he knew he deserved it, hearing it aloud would make

it real. And as much as he hated himself in that moment, hearing that was too much torture even for him to bear. Gillian had brainwashed his kids against him. After more than forty minutes alone with his thoughts, a prospect more terrifying than a cramped jail cell with a big tattooed guy named Rocco, Sergeant Butcher reappeared to collect him. He was fingerprinted, formally charged, and then released until his court date. Standing alone on the concrete steps of the police station, Joel felt more ashamed than he had ever been before. Being humiliated and fired from his job was nothing compared to this allconsuming guilt and torture. Payback

would be his. Even if it was Charli who had contacted the police, Joel knew Gillian had put her up to it. She was stupid. How could she think Joel wouldn’t put it all together? Gillian was so afraid of him she would use his own daughter to run to the police and squeal on him. Revenge would be bittersweet. Hurricane Joel was coming and no matter how low Gillian ducked, it wouldn’t be enough.

Chapter Twenty-Seven Gillian As I started to come out of the

anesthetic I felt like I had not only been hit by a bus, but that it had backed up over me and run me down time and time again until I was well and truly squished. My mouth was dry and my tongue could have been substituted for sandpaper. And I was alone. I wasn’t scared to be alone, the silence was eerily comforting, but at the same time it was lonely. I didn’t expect anyone there, but I wished someone was. My mum. Most days I was okay, even with everything that was going on in my life. I tried not to think about the fact that I had no family and how I wished my dad was here to kick Joel’s arse. Or that Mum was here to help me when the kids got sick and tell me that it was okay. And I

hated that my children never knew how wonderful their grandparents were. That they were brave and they had adventures and they loved. They never saw what love was supposed to be like. But lying there, alone in the unflattering hospital gown, I wanted nothing more than my mum to curl up beside me and whisper stories to me. Stories of faraway places with people I would never know and things I would never understand. Instead, I only had the incessant beeping of machines and shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor in the hallways to keep me company. Feeling sorry for myself, I closed my eyes and tried to drift off to sleep. I knew I should have been grateful for the

time to myself—being a single working mum with three young kids wears you down—but I missed my kids. I didn’t want them to worry about me. But I didn’t have time to worry for too long. There were still enough drugs in my system to send me back into a deep slumber. A bony elbow to my stomach woke me hours later. Lucas was climbing up on my bed, not really sure where to tread or where to touch. One arm was in a plaster cast and the other had tubes coming out of it. “Mummy?” he asked, wiggling up my chest. As I came out of my daze I was surprised to find how heavy he was

these days. He had grown up so fast. “Hey,” I murmured with a smile, genuinely happy to see him. “I missed you guys,” I told them, forcing my eyelids apart. I opened my arms up and Bianca and Lucas dived in. I hugged them tightly to my chest, feeling a mixture of relief and appreciation. It was when I opened my eyes and spotted Charli leaning sadly against the door frame with tears streaming down her face I knew something had happened. Something major. Something bad. I felt it. It wasn’t just written all over Charli’s beautifully tormented face; in the pit of my stomach I just felt it. “Who brought you down to visit me?” I asked nervously, needing to get to

Charli as soon as I could. “Nana did,” Bianca explained. “We went for ice cream then we came to see you.” “Did you really? Bianca, Mummy needs a drink very much. Would you be able to take Lucas and go see if you can find Nana and ask her to get Mum a drink?” I asked pathetically, knowing there was a jug of ice water on the table behind Bianca’s head. “Okay, Mummy.” She grinned, one of her teeth still missing. I watched as she reached out protectively and took Lucas’s hand before skipping off down the hallway with him. Charli didn’t move. She watched them go in stoic silence. Then she turned

back and looked at me and burst into tears. She crumpled. I watched in horror as she slid down the door frame a broken girl. “Charli,” I cried as my heart broke. “Please, sweetheart, come here,” I beckoned. I was trying to get out of bed, fighting the sheets and the blankets and the gown and the tubes but they were winning. My daughter needed me and my bed was holding me hostage. “Charli,” I begged, as tears took hold of me. I watched and prayed as she climbed up off the floor and used the bed to steady herself. She was as white as a sheet. Her usually captivating, wide innocent eyes were now just haunted and hollow. Something had stolen the life from her and I was paralyzed with fear.

As soon as her trembling hand reached the bed, I reached out with my broken wristed arm and pulled her to me, pushing through the excruciating pain as it coursed through my arm. “What is it?” I asked, clutching her to my chest, stroking her hair, doing anything I could think of to calm and reassure her. “I…I did something,” she gasped between gut wrenching sobs. “It’s okay, Charli. Nothing you have done can hurt you. I promise,” I said, sucking in a deep breath and silently praying that I could live up to that promise. “Just tell me what’s happened.” “It’s Dad.” “What about Dad? What did he do?” I

asked, completely blindsided. I was sure the kids had been with either Adele or at school since I had been in hospital. Adele knew how I felt about Joel being alone with the kids and, as she had seen firsthand what he was capable of, I would have bet my life on it that she wouldn’t have taken them to see him. I doubted even Adele would have seen him. I was at a complete loss as to what could have happened. I watched in silence as Charli swatted her tears away. Even though I was desperate to know, I knew I couldn’t push her. As much as it was freaking me out, Charli was the most important thing. I watched as she struggled to gather her thoughts before

exhaling heavily, “I told…told the police,” was all she managed to get out before collapsing heavily in another fit of tears. My heart shattered into a million pieces. My already fragile daughter had broken. She was lying in my lap, nothing more than the shell of the vibrant young woman she was becoming, a babbling incoherent mess. “Told the police what, sweetheart?” I asked, forcing my voice to remain stable. A million thoughts raced through my head, none of them good. Sniveling, Charli looked up at me with fright. I could feel her trembling against me. She was a mess. That was the only way to describe her. A complete

and utter mess. “I…I told them that he hurt you,” she cried again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mum,” she kept repeating between sniffs and sobs. And there it was. The truth was out now. No going back. My own daughter had more courage and more tenacity than I did. She had done what I should have. I was weak and I knew that, I had always known that, but Charli was brave. And now it was destroying her. “Don’t you apologize,” I said stubbornly, lifting her face to look me in the eye. “Charli, you did the right thing. You know you did, or you wouldn’t have done it. And I should have. I should have been the one to tell them what he did. But I was too scared.”

“Mummy,” she cried again, squeezing me tighter and not letting go. “It’s okay,” I reassured her, not really certain of whether it was. Charli would be all right because I would never let anything happen to her, but I knew Joel. I had known him a long time and I knew there would be repercussions. I would bear the brunt of his fury, but it didn’t matter. The truth was out there now. Nothing he could do would ever take that away. “You did the right thing. Everything will be okay.” In more pain than I could stand, I wriggled out from under Charli and brought her up beside me. By the time Adele returned with the Bianca and Lucas, Charli had managed to cry herself

to sleep in my arms, just like she had when she was six months old. “We brought you a drink, Mum,” Bianca said, handing me the bottle of water proudly. “I got the straw, Mum,” Lucas added, sticking a blue straw in my hand. “I got to choose.” “Thank you,” I said as I accepted the drink. I was parched and drinking through a straw wouldn’t have been my first choice, I just wanted to up end the bottle and down the lot in one long swallow, but Lucas had so proudly brought it back I had to use it. “Mmmm,” I murmured in appreciation, masking my desperation. After all, it was just a bottle of water.

Adele looked at me oddly over their heads. “She okay?” she mouthed silently indicating Charli. Shaking my head sadly, I honestly didn’t know. I didn’t know if she would ever forgive herself for what she had unwittingly set in motion. I understood her motives and I loved her more than anything for it, but I knew what would happen from here. She hadn’t been able to see any further into the future. All she wanted was for it to stop. To stop having to run away in the middle of the night. To stop the bruises and the beatings and me being hurt. She was protecting me and I loved her more than words could ever describe for it, but now I needed her to let me deal with the rest. She wasn’t

getting any more involved than she already was. Nothing was going to come back on her for this. “Adele,” I asked as normally as I could muster. “Did the doctor say anything to you about when I can go home?” “No, they didn’t. But I can go and find out if you like?” “That would be good. I need to go home. Lucas and I have a half-finished game of tennis, don’t we, mister?” I asked, watching as he climbed like a monkey back up onto the bed. For a single bed it was suddenly very small. Charli stretched out asleep next to me, Lucas perched on the end, and Bianca stood beside me looking lost. “Come on,

missy. Up you get.” As soon as the words left my lips, an enormous and generous smile consumed her and she scrambled up to join us. “I’ll go see what I can find out,” Adele offered, tossing her handbag over her shoulder. “Lucas, you’re in charge,” she nominated, scruffing up his hair before disappearing out the door. After pointing at everything in the room and asking what it all was, Lucas seemed to be satisfied just to poke my cast. Then out of the blue, Bianca sat up and said, “Mum, can we go home soon?” “Sweetie, Nana’s just gone to find the doctor to see when I can go home, and then we are out of here. But if they won’t let me go today you still get to go home

tonight with Nana,” I tried to explain. “That’s not home. That’s to Nana’s house. I want to go to my house,” she pouted. Trying not to upset anyone, I tried to explain as best I could, which, admittedly, was very poorly, “You can’t go home until I can. So, as soon as the doctor says that Mummy’s hand is okay to go home, then we will all go home together. We just have to wait.” “How long?” She frowned, crossing hers arms across her chest defiantly. “When Nana comes back we’ll know.” I couldn’t help but scrutinize her tantrum as the words sunk in. She had started off sulking and annoyed, but as

she began to understand what was happening her face softened and she came back to me. “When we get home, can I sign your cast?” she asked randomly. I was relieved. No more questions about going home or Joel or why we were here. Instead, she wanted to draw on my cast. “Me too, Mummy,” Lucas chimed in. “As soon as we get home you can both draw on it.” I knew I would have the best looking cast ever. “Charli too?” Bianca checked. She was always looking out for Charli, and I had never been more proud of my kids. It didn’t matter what was happening, they were still amazing people. Somewhere along the way I must have done

something right. “Charli too,” I assured them, getting two wide toothless smiles in reply. Although I had enjoyed the silence earlier, I wouldn’t have traded these moments for anything. Just us being a normal family. The simple things. It made everything else seem unimportant and petty. Even if it was only for a few precious moments when everyone was happy and healthy, it was the best part about being a mum. Adele reappeared and told me that I would probably be able to go home tomorrow night. They wanted to check on everything and make sure the drugs had completely worn off before they sent me home. It took me almost an hour to

convince the kids that I was fine and I would be home soon. Charli was reluctant to leave, so much so that she threw her first tantrum in almost three years. It was undeniably convincing. She was worried about me and about Joel finding out what she had done. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that there was a better than probable chance he already knew. As I watched them leave, the silence once again enveloped the room. I missed them. Before I had found safety and peace in the silence, but now it was suffocating. Charli’s words repeated in my head and I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. I loved her for what she had done and I admired her resolve and

strength, but I now found myself praying feverishly that Joel never found out. I couldn’t help but wonder if he would turn on his own daughter once he knew, and that was the most sickening feeling imaginable. I drifted off to sleep again, hoping to sleep dreamlessly through the night. I didn’t want to wake up and I didn’t want the nightmares. But predictably, they haunted me. Twice I woke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat, the monitor beside me blinking incessantly. A nurse appeared both times, alarmed by the buzzing noises of the monitor. The second time she appeared, she checked on me then disappeared before returning with a crossword puzzle book.

Stretching out on the chair beside me, I wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing. “Is something wrong? Should I be concerned?” I asked, glancing at the monitors, wishing I understood them. “No, no my dear.” She smiled a wide, comforting smile. “You just seemed very jumpy and you need to get your rest. I thought I would just sit with you for a while. Now go on, back to sleep. And don’t let anything wake you. I’m right here and you’re completely safe.” Reassuringly, she straightened my blankets, re-fluffed my pillows, and turned the blinking machine away from me. And she was right. As soon as I stopped concentrating on the machines

around me and let go of the fear that Joel would find me in the middle of the night, I slept like a baby. It was exactly what the doctor ordered. Or, in my case, the nurse at the foot of my bed. Dawn broke and sunlight filled my room. As I came out of my daze I realized that the nurse was gone, but there was a note on my table over the foot of my bed. You will be fine. You are safe here. We can help. All you need to do is let us.

I didn’t know whether to panic or just be thankful. Did she know what was going on? Had she told anyone? Or was she just suspicious? I didn’t know which

way to look. My eyes scoured the room for something, anything, out of place, but everything seemed to be okay. Nothing moved. Nothing missing. After my breakfast was delivered I waited impatiently for the doctor to come and discharge me. A bubbly young blonde with cropped hair and too many piercings in her ears and even one in her nose basically skipped into my room. “Hi, I’m Honey,” she sang. “Of course you are,” I murmured under my breath, sitting up. “I’m Gillian,” I said, sticking out my hand awkwardly. “Oh, I don’t shake hands. I prefer to start with a hug.” Before I could stop her she was on top of me hugging me softly.

If it wasn’t so weird it would have been exactly what I needed, but I had no idea who she was. “Umm,” I said, tapping her shoulder. As she moved away from me her animated face began to droop into a fuzzy frown. “I’m sorry,” I said, as I began wondering how I had upset her. “Don’t be,” she waved dismissively, jumping up and perching herself on the end of my bed. “Let me introduce myself. As I was saying, my name’s Honey. I’m a counselor here at Canberra Hospital…” I didn’t let her finish. “Look, Honey,” It came out more forcefully than I had intended. “I appreciate you coming to see me, but really, I don’t need a

counselor. What I need is for my doctor to finish reading the paper, put down his coffee and come and sign the papers saying I can go home.” I was surprised by my own honesty. Maybe Charli had rubbed off on me. “Gillian, I see a lot of abused women come through here in denial…” “Get out!” I seethed. “I’m not in denial. And I don’t need your help. Please leave me alone.” “Okay, okay, I’ll go. But just remember there are people here to help you if you ever want to talk.” She looked like the bubble she had floated into my room on had just burst. “Actually, there is something you can do for me.” I smiled, watching her perk

up instantly and her expression going back to that doe-eyed romantic I suspected she was. “Anything.” “Can you please ask my doctor to hurry up? I have a family to get back to.” As the words sunk in, so did her expression. “My family needs me.” Defeated, Honey looked at me and shook her head. “Yes, Mrs. Matthews. I’ll find out what’s keeping him. Then you can go home to your loving family.” I wanted to throw something at her vivacious little head. The way she spoke I knew she was judging me and she had no idea who I was or what I was going through. If I thought I would get away with it I would have sprung from my bed

and smacked her across her judgmental face with my cast arm. But that would make me no better than the monster who put me in here. And like that, my bubble burst. The reality of going home to Joel was back. I was in deep trouble, even if I couldn’t say it aloud or ask for help. Honey was right. Maybe that’s why I despised her instantly. She was right. My demons were waiting for me at home. But I knew I had to face them sometime. And I would face them on my own. Honey couldn’t help. No one could.

Chapter Twenty-Eight Joel As Joel walked home his frustration

and rage only increased. The more he stewed on it the more toxic his thoughts became. His life had spiraled so far out of control it was barely recognizable to him these days. Gillian had taken everything that had been important to him and ruined it. Kicking at a plastic bottle that lay on the footpath, Joel cursed and muttered under his breath. Thinking the walk and the venting would help sober him up and calm him down, he was annoyed to realize that, although it was sobering, his rage only festered and grew. “That fucking bitch!” he snarled, pausing long enough to watch the latest model Audi go screaming past. It only fed Joel’s anger. It was just another

memory of his happier, easier days. With all the strength he had he kicked the bottle at the Audi, missing it by mere centimeters as it took off down the road, leaving Joel standing alone in his fury. Three hours later, hot, sweaty, and dirty, Joel stumbled through the front door. Heading straight for the shower, he stood there for twenty minutes letting the icy water bead on his chest. There was still no one home. Standing alone in his massive home, Joel realized he missed his children. Lucas was an amazing young boy who Joel knew he’d neglected for far too long. He had never taken the time to be the dad that Lucas deserved. And Bianca was an angel. Even though she never knew it,

when the house was quiet and Joel was alone, he would go and sit in her room and spend hours admiring the drawings she had done. Although she never knew he saw them, he had noticed the change. Barely two years ago Bianca had drawn a picture of a happy family, the five of them having a picnic on the beach, but now the pictures had changed. There were still five people in the pictures, but he was gone. In his place stood his own mother. Then there was Charli, his eldest daughter, the one who started all of this. Joel knew he shouldn’t resent her for that, but he couldn’t help it. When the cracks had begun to appear in his marriage and his life, he had tried to

hide it from her. It wasn’t her fault that she was born. But the more his marriage and life fell apart, the harder it was to hide. Gillian hadn’t slept with him in years. And Charli had seen other women coming and going from the house at all hours. Joel couldn’t even remember the last conversation he had with her where he wasn’t yelling at her, telling her to shut up. Then it hit him. Suddenly it all made sense. Why should Charli protect him? In her eyes he was no longer part of their family. He didn’t eat dinner with them. He didn’t talk to them. He never helped with homework. He didn’t care. Feeling the fury begin to consume him again, Joel picked up the phone and

punched in his mother’s number. He wanted to talk to Gillian and he wanted to talk to her now. There were things that needed to be said. Some home truths she needed to know. And she needed to know them now. They couldn’t wait. Before she had the chance to feed their kids any more lies, Joel had something to say about it. The phone rang and rang, and Joel grew more and more impatient. When the answering machine picked up, Joel slammed down the phone, irritated. But he was determined. Instead of giving up, he dialed his mother’s mobile number. But when that too went through to the answering service, Joel convinced himself that Adele was avoiding his

calls. “Fuck, Mum!” he exclaimed, grabbing a cushion from the sofa and throwing it at the walls, knocking a picture off. He watched with astonishment as the frame slid down the wall and the glass shattered into a million pieces. With a deep, satisfied laugh, Joel grabbed his keys and took off. The destruction of something Gillian treasured felt good. When he arrived at his mother’s place he could hear giggling and happiness. The kids, his kids, were definitely there. He rapped on the door ferociously. “Coming,” he heard hit mother call out in frustration. A moment later she

opened the door and was unable to hide the shock on her face. “Joel!” she exclaimed, stepping out the door before closing it behind her, standing toe to toe with her son. Joel found it strange that his own mother hadn’t invited him into her house but instead joined him on the front patio. “Hi, Mum,” he began, slightly off balance. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I came to talk to my wife. And you weren’t answering your phones,” he said a little too harshly. “Joel, she’s not here.” “Don’t lie to me!” “She is not here.”

“I can hear them,” Joel waved his arms about animatedly. Shaking her head, Adele stepped backwards. She was sensing the inevitable explosion she had already seen results of. “You can hear the kids. They’re here. They have been since they left your place. But Gillian isn’t. I promise you.” “Well, where the fuck is she?” he fumed. “Calm down,” Adele tried to placate her son. It was breaking her heart to see him like this. This wasn’t the son that she had raised. He was rude and angry and scary. He had been brought up better than that. “Don’t tell me to fucking calm

down!” he barked nastily. “Tell me where my wife is! She’s so pathetic to dump her kids on you and take off. And she has the audacity to call me irresponsible!” Exhaling deeply, Adele shook her head. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “If you really think all that, Joel, you need more help than even I realized. First, those kids in there, they are your children as well, not just Gillian’s. And she didn’t dump them on me. I am their grandmother and they needed me. Gillian is still in the hospital. They haven’t let her out yet. Go home, Joel. Get some help. Don’t come near these kids until you have pulled yourself together. They deserve better.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Joel was on her, grabbing her roughly and slamming her against the door. Adele squinted in pain as the door handle dug roughly into her hip. “What makes you think you have the right to talk to me like that?” he seethed. Joel saw the fear in his mother’s eyes, only fueling his feeling of allconsuming power and control. “Because I am your mother,” she pronounced strongly. Joel’s eyes never wavered from Adele’s, and Adele held her own, refusing to back down or be afraid. When his grip didn’t loosen and nothing was said, Adele found herself repeating her words. “Joel Jacob Matthews. Let

me go. I am your mother and this isn’t acceptable behavior.” She scolded him like she had when he was five. “I want to see my kids,” he said, dropping her arms and stepping backwards. “Not today, Joel. Not like this. They need some time. Give them a chance to see that their mother is okay before you try to make things right,” she reasoned. Knowing his mother was right, Joel started walking away without another word. As he reached the top of the driveway Adele called out to him, still rubbing at her arms. “Joel! They are doing okay. They’re good kids. They’re just scared.” With tears streaming down his face,

Joel just stared at the ground and kept walking. Adele hadn’t known it, and neither Charli nor Joel would ever tell her, but Charli’s tiny face had been pressed against the glass the whole time. She had witnessed the whole incident. It wasn’t until Joel was walking away that he had seen her. He had seen the fear in her eyes. And instantly he knew he was responsible for it. Joel couldn’t even think straight. Everyone he knew had turned against him. His mother wouldn’t speak to him until he got some so-called help. His daughter had reported him to the police. He wasn’t even able to get near his children. And it was entirely his wife’s fault. She had done this. If she had kept

her big mouth shut then none of this would have happened. Joel knew he would be having words with Gillian as soon as he could. But there was no way he could walk into the hospital and see her. He doubted he would even get past reception. So instead he would just have to wait until she got home and then they would talk. This mess would all end. Once and for all.

Chapter Twenty-Nine Gillian As the clock struck seven I was

consumed with anxiety. I wanted to go home. I felt fine. I had eaten the dreaded hospital food and now I just wanted to go home and sleep in my own bed. Frustrated with waiting, I paged the nurse and asked her to prepare my discharge papers. Although she pleaded with me to just wait a little longer for the doctor to give me one final check, I couldn’t. The kids would be driving Adele nuts and I needed to get out of there. I didn’t belong in the hospital. A broken wrist wouldn’t keep me there. Just as I was adding my final signature to the pages of forms stating that I knew I was leaving the hospital against medical advice, the doctor appeared. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Matthews, I

was unexpectedly delayed. I see that you’re leaving us.” He nodded, noticing the forms in front of me. “I feel fine and I have three kids I need to get back to,” was all I offered in way of explanation. “Well, since you’re already leaving and dressed, do you mind if I just give you a quick going over before you head off? I promise five minutes, tops!” He held his hand up in a mock salute. Dropping my handbag back on the bed, I agreed. Moments later he was checking my pulse, blood pressure, and taking another look at the definitive hand prints on my neck. Now that the bruising had settled it looked worse than it had originally. The marks had obviously

been made by a human hand. You could see where each of Joel’s fingers had dug in. I felt myself wiggling away from his grasp as he checked them. “Have you given any more thought to speaking with someone about this?” he probed. Although I knew it was his job, I suddenly felt suffocated. Joel was my own problem and I didn’t want to discuss it with anyone. My face flushed. All I managed to offer by the way of justification was, “No. I have my family.” Both the young doctor checking me over and I knew I would never talk about this with anyone, but he seemed to accept my answer and not push any further.

“Okay, Mrs. Matthews. You can go home. Your blood pressure is a little higher than I would like, but that is to be expected under the circumstances. Please take it easy and I’ll see you in six weeks to have a look at that wrist and remove your cast.” As quickly as I could I jumped off the bed and scooped up my things. “Thank you,” I said. “Gillian!” he called behind me. “I don’t want to see you back here before that. Be careful. Please.” He smiled a sad, knowing smile. I stepped into the corridor and unexpectedly felt scared and alone. There was no one there to take me home. No one there who loved me. No one

there who cared. But it was my own fault, and I knew it. I hadn’t told anyone I was leaving. Rhiannon had left messages asking me to call her as soon as I knew something. And Adele had told me that they would come and get me, but it was late and I knew she would be getting the kids fed and ready for bed and I didn’t want to make it any more chaotic for her then it already was. Besides, I had a stop to make first. This thing with Joel was going to end, and end now. One of us had to go. It was destroying our children. I couldn’t shake the picture of Charli trembling in my lap as she blamed herself for what we had become. It wasn’t right. No child should ever feel responsible for this mess.

As I emerged from the doors and sucked in the fresh air I felt instantly better. The air in the hospital felt stale and sterilized. The smell was consuming, and once it was in your head you couldn’t shake it. Everything smelt the same, a mixture of disinfectant and sadness. In the distance I could hear the wail of the sirens, another sad soul being brought in. Shaking the thoughts from my head and forcing myself to concentrate on the problems I could fix, I jumped in a taxi and headed home. I didn’t know if Joel would be there when I got there but I would wait for him. It was time. During the drive home I sat in the back of the taxi psyching myself up. I would convince myself that I was doing

the right thing, that I would be okay and that nothing could hurt me. If I admitted the truth, the reality was very different. Everything could hurt me. Joel could hurt me. Joel could kill me. Then the thoughts would creep in. The voices in my head telling me that I was stupid and reminding me that I had just been released from the hospital, where Joel had put me, and here I was, going back for more. How brainless could I possibly be? But if this is what I needed to do to end it all, that’s what I would do. It wasn’t a choice anymore. “Are you all right, miss?” the taxi driver asked politely as I handed him a handful of notes. “You’re very pale.” “Um, yes. Sure. Thanks,” I mumbled

incoherently, pushing open the door and climbing out of the backseat. Embarrassed, I stood frozen on the spot, staring up at the house. It took me a full five minutes once the taxi had disappeared out of view to put one foot in front of the other and make progress toward my own home. The fear was paralyzing, but I pushed through it. I had to. My family was depending on me. Step by step I made my way to the front door and with trepidation I pushed it open, not knowing what was waiting for me on the other side. My breath caught on nothing at all. But then, from somewhere unexpected, I was filled with strength and confidence. Maybe it was the sight of Bianca’s

drawing stuck to the fridge or Charli’s book on the coffee table or the line of matchbox cars reaching around the dining room table. Whatever happened next wasn’t for me. It was for them. They would never come back to this house until this was resolved. With my nerves on edge, I summoned all my strength and called out, “Joel, are you here?” I could hear clattering in his bedroom and then there he was. His hand on his hips, anger on his face. This wasn’t going to be easy. Joel was ready for a fight. “Been having fun?” he sneered, leaning on the door frame. Then, unpredictably, I was over it. I

was so sick of being afraid and not saying what needed to be said, so I fought back. “Yeah, the hospital’s a great place to hang out. You should try it.” “Whatever,” he stated dismissively. “Don’t whatever me, Joel. This needs to end. Unless you’re going to start treating us all, not just me, but the kids too, with some kind of decency, just get out. Just leave. We don’t need you. You just make everyone miserable.” I think Joel was shocked by my forthright position. I didn’t mince my words. “Is that right?” “Yes, Joel. No one wants you here.” “It’s my house, remember?” “No. It’s our house. It’s the house we were going to raise our family in. You

do remember that those kids are your family, don’t you?” Shaking his head, Joel began to walk towards me. Inside my head was screaming, telling me to back away and just get out of there. No one knew where I was. I had no back up. “This isn’t the life we planned.” “No, it’s not,” I admitted. “But it’s the one you got. Grow up, Joel. Be a man. Just get out and leave us alone.” I was impressed at how stable my voice was. Outwardly I was projecting a calm demeanor, inside I was squirming. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up with two police officers standing over you wanting to interview you about the fact your wife is in the hospital? I

had no idea that you were even in the hospital or that you had big mouthed to the police,” he snarled, stepping ever closer. “Where else was I going to go, Joel? You broke my wrist,” I stated, waving my cast in his face to prove it. Another step. “Well, you could have at least kept your big mouth shut.” I wanted to scream that I hadn’t said anything, but I didn’t want him to know that it was Charli. I would rather him hate me for it and take it out on me than blame her. As long as Joel believed that I was the one who had blabbed, Charli was safe. And that was more important than anything. Instead, I said nothing. “What? Don’t you have anything to

say, Gillian?” The way he said my name made my skin crawl. I could hear the venom in his voice and read the pure resentment written all over his face. “What do you want me to say, Joel? Tell me, what is it you want to hear?” I invited. With temptation dancing in his eyes, Joel was swiftly on me, his breath on my face. “Tell me the truth for once. Why did you use Charli to go to the police for you? Can’t you do your own dirty work? Are you that gutless?” With Joel hovering over me I couldn’t help it, I stepped back. My hand shot up and covered my mouth. He knew. I hadn’t said anything, but he knew that it had been Charli. I was so afraid for her.

When furious, Joel was capable of anything. I wanted to get out of there as quick as I could. I’d been a thoughtless idiot. I should never have come here. All I wanted to do was check on Charli and make sure she was okay. “But who…?” I murmured. “Oh, you didn’t know that? Or did you know but just didn’t want me to? Yes, Gillian, I know all about it. How my own darling daughter ran to the police and told them. I know how you brainwashed her and told her all the things I had done, but none of the things you had said to cause them. She thinks you’re a saint. Yet I am a monster. How delusional is she? What have you done to her? You’ve made her just like you. I

bet you’re real proud,” he asked, mocking me. I was visibly shaking now. The way he was speaking about his own daughter made me cringe with fear. Then, with a picture of Charli in my head, dressed in her favorite flannelette pajamas reading, I was strong again. This time I stepped towards Joel, squaring up my shoulders and holding my own. “Joel, you are a monster,” I informed him directly. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe she got so tired of seeing her mother being beaten and everyone cowering around the house? So afraid of you they didn’t want to flush the toilet in case it was too loud that it upset you? She’s had enough.

Charli is a smart girl. And yes, I’m proud of her. She’s stronger than I’ve ever been. And she did something I should have done a long time ago. She told someone who could help us. She went to the police.” As the words came out, Joel’s hand collided with my cheek. An explosion of pain took hold of my face. “Why be a smart ass, Gillian? Do you deliberately try to piss me off?” he asked with a sly, satisfied smile on his face. “Why hit me? Seriously? You asked for the truth, so here it is, Joel. Everyone in this family hates you. Your own children are terrified of you. You’re not a father or a husband. And you’re not the man I married. If he were still here we

would be happy. But he left. A long time ago. Now it’s too late. Even if he does come back, I don’t want to know about it. Just go. Just get out. Out of the house and out of our lives. We don’t want anything from you. Just leave us be.” And there it was. I said what I came to say. The words I had held in for a long time were out there now. And as nervous as I was about what would come next, I felt relieved. No more hiding. I should have turned and left at that point. But I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. The next slap I didn’t see coming. Joel just stared into my defiant eyes, not wavering. Not saying a word. Then his hand connected with my face and I stumbled backwards. Grabbing hold of

the armchair as I fell, I managed to stay on my feet. Just. My lip had been split and I could taste the salty blood as it seeped into my mouth. Dabbing at it gently, I pulled myself together. Perhaps another mistake I made. Just as I steadied myself again, Joel landed a punch to my stomach. This time I hit the floor with a thud. Gasping for breath, Joel hovered over me. “You think you’re better than me,” he growled. His voice was filled with bitterness. “You were nothing when I met you. I made you. You think you can be anything without me? You’re dumber than even I thought.” He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me to my feet with it. I wanted to

scream out in pain but there was no use. No one would hear me. I knew this was only the beginning. Standing face to face, Joel had one hand holding me securely by the shoulder and the other on my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. “I deserve better than you. You are nothing but trash, Gillian. A stupid, pathetic girl who is too dumb to even work contraception properly. It’s not rocket science, you know.” Another punch to the stomach and I went down like a sack of potatoes. Lying on the floor wheezing, I looked up and saw someone I once loved who was now barely recognizable to me. Gone was the charismatic, charming man who had won my heart, and in his place

was this lost, lonely little boy. Joel had no idea who he was anymore, or where he belonged. And for the first time I accepted that I couldn’t help him. For years I watched him struggle with that reality and said nothing. But now enough was enough. If I survived today, if tomorrow I was still able to walk and talk and breathe, I would give up waiting for him to come back to me. It was heartbreaking and gut-wrenching to accept it, but as he reached for me again, I knew it was all I had left that I could do. “Get up!” he boomed, completely dominating me. With all the strength I could conjure, I pushed myself up. The pain killers they

dosed me up with at the hospital had begun to wear off and I was aching all over. My face was stinging, I was parched from the lack of oxygen, and I could still taste the salty blood on my tongue. “Just leave me be, Joel,” I asked as I fought to my feet. “Does it make you feel like more of a man to throw punches and hurt me? Does it? Do you feel better watching me bleed?” I dared. I know it was dumb to antagonize him, but I wanted him to know what I thought. It was about time he knew. I had been silent for too long. Now Joel would hear the truth. Whether or not he accepted it was not my problem. I had to live through to tomorrow. Something that

would seem simple to everyone else, but right now, staring at the hollow man in front of me, there was a very real possibility that I wouldn’t. “Why can’t you just shut the fuck up, Gillian? Do you want me to hit you?” he roared, his hands once again going for my throat. If I could have shrieked in pain I would have. His fingers dug into the bruises he had left there last time. I felt my body and my resolve weaken. He was winning. Once again black spots began to dance before my eyes and I thought I was going to pass out. But Joel let go. Just as I was beginning to feel weak and vague, he dropped me and once again I was on the floor. I was on my hands and knees,

gasping for breath. That close to the white plush carpet I noticed that it was speckled with blood. No doubt my blood. I found myself praying that Joel didn’t notice as it would just exacerbate the already out of control situation. Joel turned away from me, running his hands through his hair. I watched him curiously as he spotted the blood on his hands. It was strangely satisfying to watch him realize what he had done. “You’re an asshole,” I mumbled meekly, still on my hands and knees. “Fuck you, Gillian. Fuck you!” He turned on me. If I had thought he was angry before I had never seen this level of rage. He landed another blow, this time to

the back of my head. I fell face-first into the floor, squashing my nose as I landed and releasing a geyser of blood. It was then that I blacked out. When I woke my head was spinning. I ached everywhere. My head was heavy. I reached out with trepidation and touched my forehead. I had a large bump above my eye the size of a tennis ball, and my face was covered in thick patches of rust colored dried blood. It took a moment to work out where I was. Even when my eyes focused I didn’t recognize where I was. It was then I spotted Joel leaning against a door frame smiling triumphantly. He was leaning against his walk-in wardrobe. I was perched on the end of his bed.

I hadn’t been in this room since he had boxed my things up all those years ago. It wasn’t what I expected. It was clean, but it was more than that. It was sterile. I guessed it hadn’t been that way until recently. There was nothing there. The dresser was bare. There were no clothes thrown haphazardly around the room. I could see all his shoes lined up neatly in the cupboard. The only thing that didn’t surprise me was the pile of women’s clothing in the corner. A varied array of lace and leather in all colors stacked in a heap. Struggling to sit up, my chest felt like someone had dropped a ten tonne concrete slab on me. I guessed that I had a few cracked ribs, and probably a

broken one as well. I opened my mouth to say something, and Joel held up a hand, stopping me dead. “For once you’re just going to shut that fat hole in your face and listen. You did this. Not me. You are the one who ruined us. You fucked my career and my life. I was happy before you. You are the leech who wouldn’t let go. I should have known better but I felt sorry for you. Then you got knocked up and I never even knew if it was mine. But you had no family and I married you. Out of pity. But I never loved you, Gillian. I deserved better than you then. And I sure as hell deserve better than you now!” Joel said calmly. I watched him talk and realized that

was what he truly believed. It didn’t matter if it was true or not, in his heart, no matter how black it was, that was what Joel believed. “Is that so?” I asked daringly. “How am I responsible for ruining your life? Did I force you to grope your receptionist? To tell your boss to go fuck herself? Did I make you tell your vendor she was a plastic Barbie that you wouldn’t screw if she paid you? If you want to blame someone for ruining your career, Joel, look in the mirror. You did all that. No one held a gun to your head and forced you to. You did that all on your own.” “Excuse me?” Joel warned. “Are you trying to tell me it’s my fault? Don’t you

get it? It’s you!” He roared so loudly I thought I heard the windows rattle. “It was all you, Gillian. I was running on no sleep because of your children. The moment I walked in the door each day you did nothing but bitch about your day. Why would I want to come home to that? You made me what I am. You call me a monster, that’s okay. But I am only the monster that you created.” After a long moment, I looked at him and saw no one I knew. “Okay,” I offered, standing up. I clutched at my stomach with my broken wrist, using the other one to steady me on my feet. Once standing, I caught a glimpse of what I looked like in the mirror. I had no idea how I was going to explain this to

anyone, but right now I didn’t have time to care. I began shuffling towards the door, every movement causing me a paralyzing pain. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he asked almost cheerily. “I’m getting out of here, Joel,” I answered honestly, hobbling another few steps. I didn’t see him coming and I didn’t hear him. With one sharp yank of my arm I was thrown back down, this time landing on the bed. As scared as I was I was grateful for the mattress cushioning my fall. “You think I’m going to let you just walk out of here so you can run to the police? Or my mum? Or your fucked up bitch friends? Or your daughter? You’re

not going anywhere until I say you are! Do you hear me?” he demanded, pinning me to the bed. Tears filled my eyes unwillingly. I tried forcing them away, but they just kept coming. A steady, silent stream trickled down over my bright red cheeks. Defeated and alone, I dropped my head backwards and stared out the doors. Daylight was completely gone. I had no idea how long I had been unconscious, but staring out the door I could see the reflection of the moon and the stars dancing on the pool’s surface. It looked so peaceful out there. I wished I could enjoy it. Instead, I forced my fuzzy head to focus on Joel. He was standing arrogantly beside

me, glaring down, his arms folded across his puffed out chest. The shoulder of his light blue shirt was covered in dried blood. I guessed it was mine from when he carried me into his bedroom. I wondered what would happen next. How long would he make me stay? Was it just until I conjured enough strength to fight back and get out? Or was I here until someone found me? The thought scared me. Chances were if I was here until someone found me, by then I would be dead. Or well on my way to it. A part of me hoped it would come soon. I had already been treated for a broken wrist and now I was guessing it wouldn’t be long before I was back in hospital, this time sporting broken ribs, concussion,

and possibly some internal bleeding. I wasn’t in a good way and even I was not naïve enough to believe I was going to walk out of my house unscathed. I knew there would be scars. I just hoped I would still be breathing to see them. Glancing at Joel I saw him take a long swig of bourbon straight from the bottle before screwing up his face as it burnt his throat. I wanted to ask for some. It might dull the pain. But I couldn’t even string the words together. After another big gulp, Joel looked at me with confusion. “Tell me this, since we have some time together. Are those kids mine?” I was flabbergasted. How could he even ask that? Who else’s kids did he

think that they were? “You’re kidding me, right?” I wiggled about, sitting up. “Hey! I have every right to ask. You’re a frigid bitch. Every time I touch you, you think I don’t see you cringe?” “That’s got nothing to do with sex. That’s got more to do with the punching and kicking and strangling than anything else.” “I doubt I even fucked you three times! So they can’t all be mine,” he reasoned, another mouthful of bourbon. The bottle was half empty and Joel’s speech was beginning to slur. I knew from experience that it took a lot to get him drunk these days. His body was so used to it, it had adjusted. But maybe if I could keep him drinking he would pass

out and I could escape. When I didn’t answer he snapped again. “Bitch!” he said, grabbing my face and twisting it, forcing me to look him in the face. “I asked you a question. Answer me,” he demanded and issued another slap, reopening the cut on my lip. Licking at the blood, I looked up at him defiantly. “I’m not surprised I wasn’t very memorable for you. I’m probably the only one you’ve had sex with in the past ten years who hasn’t left you with some memorable rash or itching. But yes, Joel, they’re all your kids. And God knows I wish they weren’t.” “Well, they aren’t anything like me,”

“Thank God for that.” Another punch in the stomach. By now I was in real trouble. Even after the initial pain from the punch directly in my stomach had subsided, I was filled with sharp stabbing pains. Doubling over, I could barely move. I wondered how I would ever be able to stand again, but inside I curled myself into a ball on the end of Joel’s bed clutching at my stomach. “I knew you were an idiot, but I didn’t think you were so dumb to keep pushing me. How much of a fuckwit are you?” Lying there, scared, broken, and bleeding, I decided I had two choices. I could force myself to stand up and finish

this quickly, which would probably mean I would end up copping another few punches and possibly worse. Or I could start to surrender and this would drag on for hours. In the moment I was trying to think, a kick landed in my kidneys. It was more excruciating than everything else he had ever done. I howled in agony. That just angered him further. The decision was no longer mine. I was completely at the mercy of Joel’s vicious temper. Even hoping he would tire himself out wasn’t an option. “When I ask you something, you answer, bitch!” he ordered. I tried to unwind myself from the ball I had been squished into and as I tried to stretch out I realized how much trouble I

was actually in. I was sure that when I went to the bathroom next, if I ever went again, I would undoubtedly be peeing blood. “Fuck you!” I forced out with the last ounce of courage and energy I had. As Joel’s fist collided with my face, I felt one of my teeth shaken loose. Then he was on me like a man possessed. Pinning me to his bed with all his weight, I was helpless. He had his knees either side of me, holding down my wrists. It was the most unbearable torture I had ever been subjected to. My cast was cutting into my arm and scraping the skin. Joel was yelling obscenities into my face, covering me in tiny drops of bourbon-soaked spittle. The smell made me want to vomit, but I

couldn’t move. With Joel’s dead weight on my stomach, the cramps were getting worse. I closed my eyes and prayed. I prayed for strength to survive. I prayed to be released. I prayed to be saved. I prayed for a miracle. But I was not dumb enough to expect anything. “You’re nothing but a dumb slut,” Joel slurred, grabbing a handful of my shirt and twisting it so tightly some of the stitching gave way. That only encouraged him further. Moments later, I had no shirt on. It was now nothing more than a ball of rags tossed on the floor. Suddenly I felt exposed. “Who’s this for?” Joel asked, flicking my bra. It was a black lacy bra that I had worn because

it was the easiest to find. No one had ever seen it, but it only seemed to enrage Joel further. “Answer me, whore!” he boomed. My voice was shaky. “No one,” I muttered. “Liar!” he declared as he threw another vicious punch to my face. Tomorrow I was going to look like a freak. If there was a tomorrow. I was already expecting the lump on my head to probably require stitches if for some reason I managed to get medical attention. By the end of the night, a couple of teeth missing, and probably two black eyes. The way things were going, it would be a miracle if I was even alive tomorrow.

As I recovered from the latest punch and my vision stabilized, I watched as Joel took another long swig from the bourbon bottle. Even though he was still on top of me, now was the best opportunity I had. Slightly off balance, I wiggled my broken wrist out from under his leg and punched him with all my strength in the balls. Instantly he fell off me and onto the floor. When I dared to peer over the edge I saw him writhing about in pain on the floor. Feeling slightly satisfied and finally free, I jumped up the best I could and made for the door. I wasn’t quick enough. Forgetting himself, Joel grabbed my ankle and brought me down on the floor with him. Another well-timed

punch to my kidneys and I was as incapacitated as he was. A strange and unexpected truce fell upon us. Instead of attacking each other we both lay there, twisting about in pain and trying to regain some strength. As I rubbed at my kidneys, I watched Joel begin to scramble to his feet. Forgetting about my pain, I forced myself up. Then there we were. Husband and wife standing in our bedroom face to face. Both in pain. “I hate you, you miserable bastard!” I screamed with all the strength that I had. “Fuck you!” he retorted, grabbing me by the shoulders. When his head collided with mine, I fell backwards, but Joel held me upright. Then every

emotion that Joel had ever felt toward me exploded out of him in a torrent of anger. I was thrown across the room and went straight through the glass door, landing in a waterfall of shattered glass.

Chapter Thirty Joel Joel shocked even himself as he watched Gillian go through the glass door. He’d wrongly assumed she would

just hit it and slide down like she had all the other times. Instead, he watched helplessly as she went straight through, bringing down with her a shower of glass. For a long time, Joel just stood there frozen to the spot. Too afraid to move, he waited and watched for Gillian to get up, to open her eyes and say something. But too much time had already passed and she hadn’t even twitched. Joel could see the blood pooling beneath her leg and knew things had gone too far. Forcing himself to take a step, Joel placed one trembling foot in front of the other until he was standing beside her. She was not doing well at all. Her arm, the one that hadn’t been broken,

was twisted at an unusual angle. Never a good sign. As she fell, Joel watched it happen almost in slow motion—falling backwards, arms flailing behind her as she tried to cushion her fall. But the tiles and concrete had been beneath her too quickly. He heard her head collide with a sickening crunch as it hit the ground before bouncing. Then nothing. An eerie stillness. Now standing beside her, Gillian looked angelic. His broken angel. Without moving her, Joel could see a large shard of glass protruding from her leg, causing the thick crimson blood to flow. Her whole body was covered in tiny scratches and scrapes and parts of her chest were imbedded with tiny glass

fragments. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t seem to be breathing. The blood was gathering on the tiles and flowing between the cracks, trickling into the pool, turning it a light shade of pink. Joel wanted to vomit again. His stomach contorted at the sight of all the blood and bruising. Squatting down beside her, Joel reached for her hand. A tiny voice in the back of his head was screaming that it was all a trick. That just like in the horror movies as soon as he touched her, her wide eyes would shoot open and she would kick him or punch him or attack him in some way. But Joel ignored the voices. How could she do that? There was too much blood and her serene face

was the color of snow. Tentatively Joel reached out and took hold of her hand. It was cool and clammy but it never moved. He squeezed her fingers gently, as he whispered to her, “I’m so sorry, Gillian. I promise if you wake up for me I’ll get the help I need. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. All you need to do is open those beautiful eyes for me. Please, Gillian. Please open your eyes.” Gillian didn’t move. Not even a muscle. Joel lifted her arm in hopes of shocking her back to him, but again, nothing came. Her body seemed lifeless; she was slipping away from him. Suddenly, consumed with guilt and terror, Joel dropped her arm and jumped

away from her. “I’ve…I’ve killed her,” he muttered to himself, tears welling in his eyes. Joel had done some pretty shitty things in the past, but this was by far the worst. If he thought things were bad before, he had no idea what was going to happen next. If Gillian died he would never recover from this. His kids would never look at him the same way again. That was if he ever saw them again. He could very well end up in jail for the rest of his life for this. Petrified and with a million thoughts running through his head, Joel took a step backward, tripping over one of Lucas’s discarded Tonka trucks that lined the edge of the pool.

As Joel fell he swore, “Fucking kids. Leave their shit everywhere.” They were his last words, but no one heard, as he too hit the concrete with a loud thud and his temple connected with the pool edging, knocking him unconscious instantly. With Gillian out cold there was no one to help him. The momentum from the fall and the awkward angle from which he fell dropped him face down into the pool. Moments later Joel was gone. Now he floated lifelessly amongst the leaves and sticks that dotted the pool’s surface. ***

Gillian It was a little after nine the next morning when Gillian began to stir. She was lying in the back of an ambulance, Rhiannon clutching at her hand desperately while a young brunette nurse worked frantically on her. “It’s okay, Gillian,” she said, squeezing her hand. “It’s all over now.” THE END

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Acknowledgements THANK YOU So I thought I should add in the compulsory thank you section. Firstly to my very tolerant and patient husband, Rob. You are the one who pushed me to finish this and make sure it was something I was proud to put my name to. You were my sounding board more nights than you probably even noticed. I couldn’t have done it without you. To my family, I couldn’t have done it without you. Mum, without your help it would be full of spelling mistakes and

grammar errors (the advantages of having a teacher for a parent!). Dad, thank you for believing in me and encouraging me to dream. You never once believed I couldn’t do it or let me believe it either. And to my brother, Simon and sisters, Karenya and Nerilee. For years you watched me write and you always helped with random questions and scenarios my twisted mind concocted. You guys rock! Karenya, thanks for encouraging me to tick it off the bucket list! To my Dexar family who surprised even me with your encouragement and enthusiasm to see this project fulfilled. You make me want to write the next one!

Thanks to all for letting me have fun with this and make a dream come true! Bec…xoxo

About the Author Rebecca, one of four kids to her parents who are both primary school teachers, was born in Wollongong on the south coast of Australia before moving to the country with her family. After a few years of embracing all that country life had to offer, the family relocated to Port Macquarie with its white sand beaches. After a brief period enjoying the sun and the surf they finally settled in Canberra where Rebecca still lives today. But all through her childhood a notepad and a book were never far away. These days Rebecca is an avid reader, and when she isn’t buried in a

book or cheering on her beloved football team she’s spending time with her husband Robert and their overly spoilt dog Levi.

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