There was a pause before he answered. ‘Of course.’
‘I don’t want to talk about this on the phone. Could we meet somewhere?’
‘There’s a café at Fisherman’s Cove. Do you know it?’
‘Yes,’ she lied.
‘Can you meet me there at four, Miss . . .?’
‘That would be fine.’ She didn’t supply a name.
‘How will I know you?’
I’ll be the woman in the dark glasses and the sling, she thought. But what she said was: ‘I’ll find you.’
Jennie must have waited for a quarter of an hour before she heard another vehicle approaching. It was a lorry loaded with timber. Would they spot that she was in trouble? Just to be sure, she placed her hand on the horn. Already her mind was running ahead. She would ask the driver to take her to Mark’s place. Then they would have to organise a tow truck from Millbrooke. Heaven knows what damage had been done to the newly repaired duco and how much it would cost to repair it. Again.
Although she’d always been an optimistic kind of person, lately it seemed that the fates were conspiring against her. First the anonymous stalker and now a car accident. The lorry driver was pulling up on the other side of the road. That should have made her feel better. But she couldn’t toss off the feeling of helplessness which was consuming her. Tears were running down her face, and by the time the driver appeared at the passenger window, Jennie was sobbing hysterically.
Richard parked his ute in Angie’s drive. He’d brought the ride-on mower. Might as well do the front yard while he was there. Most people would think he was a fool mowing the lawn of a woman who was off having a dirty weekend in Sydney with a Macquarie Street specialist. He’d told Diana he was helping a mate mend his fences. She was so insecure he couldn’t mention a woman without Diana thinking there was a rival.
Not that she considered Angie a rival. Diana liked to call her the ‘llama lady’. She’d even speculated about a romance between Angie and Bert, when most of Millbrooke knew Bert was besotted with Moira. And vice versa.
Angie asked at the service station for directions to Fisherman’s Cove. Her sunglasses covered the black eye. And nobody seemed to notice the brace. As for the head wound, it paid to have a thick mane of hair.
At ten to four she was seated in the café, right at the back near the toilets. Could Martin Delamont be trusted? What if he had reported back to Geoff? Would Mr Goodmann himself be coming to intimidate her? She wasn’t sure whether she could cope with seeing him in person. How could she ever have thought such a pathetic man was a double for Phil? Good old Blake had known it all along. She would need to listen to him more in future.
The waiter delivered a lapsang souchong. Even though she hadn’t eaten the hospital breakfast or anything at the motel, she wasn’t hungry. Just as she picked up the tea cup, a man of about forty-five with brown, curly hair entered the café. She raised her right hand in a half wave.
‘Hi, I’m Martin,’ he said, extending his hand.
‘Angie,’ she replied.
His hand felt warm, but not sweaty.
‘What can I do for you, Angie?’
She removed her sunglasses and waited for the reaction.
‘Oh my God.’ He seemed genuinely shocked. ‘Did he do that to you?’
She nodded. ‘There’s collateral damage too – a head injury which could still turn out to be a haematoma, and a mid-shaft humeral fracture.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You didn’t do it, Martin.’ His face had crumpled. For a moment she felt like comforting him, before realising how ridiculous that was. He obviously knew about his partner’s proclivity. That made Martin Delamont an enabler. ‘You’re aware of what he does to women, aren’t you, Martin?’
‘Are you going to the police?’
‘Are you going to try to talk me out of it?’
‘Quite the contrary. The bastard needs to be put away.’
Angie was struck by the passion in his voice. ‘I agree. But as things stand, I’m in no position to have him charged.’
‘That’s how he gets away with it. Has he threatened you?’
‘Obliquely.’
‘Are you afraid of him?’
‘Too right I am. For a while I thought he was going to kill me. Now I see him in every shadow and every corner.’
‘If you did come forward, it might help you to deal with things.’
‘Having the story plastered all over the paper and the TV wouldn’t help me at all. I don’t want people knowing about this, least of all my sons.’
‘I can see how that would be difficult. And you’re right about it being a big story. He’s an important man in this town. President of the golf club. Commodore of the sailing club. He knows everyone. From the cops to the magistrate.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘And you’d have to have conclusive evidence.’
She pointed to her injuries.
‘Not enough. It would be a “he said, she said” situation. You’d need evidence that links him directly to the assault.’
‘I took photos of my injuries. In his bathroom. Is that enough evidence?’
‘You could cause a lot of damage to his reputation with something like that. Does he know you took the pictures?’
‘No. They’re safely stored away, in the event he tries to come after me.’
‘You don’t think I’m on his side, do you?’
‘You seem like a nice man. But lately my judgement has been rather poor.’
‘I assure you I abhor what he’s done. And it’s not the first time.’
‘I’m not surprised. He wasn’t tentative about it at all. It was as if he’d had a lot of practice.’
He lowered his voice. ‘He abused his ex-wife – emotionally as well as physically. It went on for years and none of us knew.’
‘I understand they were divorced earlier this year.’
‘Yes, she’s finally free of him. Living in a safe place where he’ll never find her. With a man she trusts.’
Angie’s chest tightened.
‘There’s something that puzzles me, Martin. Why did she stay with him all those years?’
‘Financial security. Keeping up the appearance of a happy home for the sake of her daughter. Plus the fact that he undermined her confidence and isolated her from other people. She’d become so dependent on him that she couldn’t envisage making a life of her own. And anyway, he told her if she tried to leave, he would seek full custody of the daughter.’
‘Surely a court wouldn’t have allowed that.’
‘For years he’d been telling anyone who would listen that Diana was a bad mother. That she never wanted her daughter. He was always putting Diana down.’
‘Not in front of her daughter?’
‘I didn’t hear him do it, but Diana told me he would say things like: “You’re such a good-natured girl, Elizabeth. Unlike your mother.”’
Angie bit her lip. He had made a similar remark about Diana at their first appointment.
‘You’re well rid of him, Angie.’
‘I can’t believe I mistook his controlling behaviour for care and concern. And even now, when I know he’s an abuser, I still feel as if I contributed in some way to his violence towards me.’
‘You shouldn’t.’
‘On a rational level, I know I’m not to blame, yet I still feel guilty.’
‘That’s how he operates. Shifting the blame onto the woman.’
Angie examined his earnest face. ‘I imagine you would have been a good friend to Mrs Goodmann.’
He sighed. ‘I tried to be, but I also let her down when she needed me most.’ His voice became a whisper. ‘You’ve asked me to keep our conversation confidential, and now I’m asking the same of you.’
‘That goes without
saying.’
‘Diana and I had an affair.’
‘An affair?’ Angie asked incredulously. Surely it wasn’t the same affair Geoff had told her about. This earnest-looking lawyer didn’t seem the type. Then again, he was a man. And men found it difficult to resist Diana’s charms.
‘It started several years ago. She was vulnerable and I should have helped her without allowing it to become sexual. But I didn’t. When she told me what Geoff had been doing to her, I couldn’t believe it. Everyone thinks the world of him. Then I remembered the bruises on her arms. She always seemed to have them. If anyone ever remarked on it, Geoff would say she was clumsy or accident-prone. One time she fractured her shoulder and he told everyone it was brittle bones. Osteoporosis. You don’t doubt an excuse like that when it comes from one of the most respected people in Flynns Bay. He’s very plausible.’
‘I know.’
‘After what Diana told me about him, I looked at Geoff with different eyes. What I had once seen as attention to detail, I now viewed as a need for control. The single-mindedness I used to admire was actually a need to get his own way no matter what. The determination to win – whether it was a legal case or a game of golf – was really a need to dominate. I came to hate him.’
‘So why do you work with him, Martin?’
‘We’re business partners; I don’t socialise with him.’
‘But surely you could go elsewhere.’
‘It’s the best law firm in town, and I have a significant share in the practice. Besides, I own a big house on the beach with an equally big mortgage, and my three children attend private schools here in Flynns Bay. If I moved I’d have to uproot my family.’
‘That makes it complicated, doesn’t it?’
‘You bet.’
‘So did he find out about the affair and demand a divorce?’
‘He didn’t know about us. Not then.’
‘Are you telling me Diana instigated the proceedings?’
‘Diana and I used to talk about her becoming independent, leaving Geoff, making a new life. Then when Elizabeth went to university in Sydney, Diana summoned up the courage to ask for a divorce.’
‘To start a new life with you?’
‘No, I told her from the outset that I would never leave my wife and kids.’
‘So she was prepared to do it on her own?’
‘Yes, it was a brave thing to do.’
‘I don’t imagine he would have reacted well to the news.’
‘He was livid. He said he’d never let her go. So she told him if he made trouble she’d go to the police.’
‘Good on her.’ Angie was seeing another side to Diana. ‘So he caved in? But that doesn’t seem like something he’d do.’
‘His reputation is important to him. He couldn’t be certain she wasn’t going to come forward. And those kinds of allegations can be very damaging, whether there’s specific evidence or not. Particularly when you’re the town’s most respected lawyer.
‘Anyway, she did quite well in the settlement and bought a townhouse on the bay. But even after the divorce, he kept intimidating her, hanging around her townhouse, sending abusive texts. He even told Elizabeth that Diana was mentally ill.’
‘Surely she didn’t believe it?’
‘I’m afraid so. Elizabeth has always sided with her father. Geoff can be the most charming man in the world – as you probably know.’
Angie nodded ruefully.
‘Like most of Flynns Bay,’ Martin continued, ‘Elizabeth thinks he’s perfect.’
‘What happened about the intimidation?’
‘Diana threatened to report him to the police if he didn’t stop. But before she could go through with it, Geoff found out about the affair between Diana and me.’
‘It was over by then, wasn’t it?’
‘Not exactly. After the divorce was finalised, I started dropping into Diana’s townhouse each evening on my way home. She was having trouble coping on her own and I was still infatuated with her. I know it was wrong, but she’s the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘Geoff took photos of me coming and going and then threatened to tell my wife. So Diana had to back down. Because of me. And that’s the reason Geoff Goodmann is still doing what he does – with impunity.’
He looked so upset that Angie was inclined to reach over and take his hand, before thinking better of it.
‘I can’t tell you how guilty I feel about it, Angie.’
‘Well, I’d like to be the person to put him away, Martin, but I can’t.’
‘There’s no statute of limitations, Angie, if you ever change your mind.’
‘And there’s no statute of limitations on his acrimony either. Do you know what he said to me, Martin? “It’s never over.”’
‘That sounds like Geoff. He never forgives.’
‘Will he go on looking for Diana?’
‘Not for the time being. He thinks she’s overseas. On a long trip.’ So that explained Diana’s lie about the cruise. ‘What about you, Angie? Will you go away for a while?’
‘I have my own bolthole. And he has no idea where it is.’
‘I’m glad.’
He handed her his card. ‘If you ever change your mind.’
‘Are you offering to be my solicitor?’
‘No, acting against Geoff in court is something I can only do in my daydreams. But I could put you in touch with an old uni friend of mine who’s highly experienced in these matters.’ He searched in his wallet and produced a card. ‘The only problem is this guy is based in Sydney.’
‘That’s not a problem,’ she replied, taking the card and slipping it next to Martin’s in the pocket of her handbag.
When he saw Angie to her car, he gave her an awkward hug, avoiding her left arm.
‘Are you sure you’re okay to drive?’
‘Yes, I don’t have far to go.’
She started up the engine and drove straight to the motel. Then she lay on the bed and fell into a restless sleep.
During the night it dawned on her why Diana had said her husband was dead.
Wishful thinking.
19 COMING HOME
It wasn’t easy to drive with a wonky eye and an arm in a brace. Not to mention the image of Geoff Goodmann’s face lingering at the edge of her brain, like a ghost that only shows up in photos – silent and sinister. After an hour she stopped and had a coffee at a little truck stop. The caffeine made her feel better. Plus the fact she was halfway home. When she reached the top of the mountain range she knew there was only half an hour to go. As much as she wanted to drive at one-ten, she forced herself to sit on ninety. You’re almost there, she told herself. Don’t risk an accident when you’ve survived an attack.
Then, just as she drove over a gentle rise, there it was – the familiar avenue of birches leading into Millbrooke. Tears pricked her eyes. Don’t cry, she told herself. You can barely see as it is. Outside St John’s Church, parishioners were mingling after the late Sunday morning service. The sight of them was comforting in a way that tugged at her heart. She drove past Lisa’s hotel, past the soldier atop his plinth, past her beloved emporium, before turning into Church Lane. The Manse had never looked more charming, its lych-gate laden with roses and the green roof glistening in the sun.
As she pulled up in the drive, she caught her breath. Another vehicle was already parked there – Richard’s ute. He was waiting for her, as if he knew how much she needed him. In a romantic sense, he might be spoken for, but that didn’t matter. She could love someone who didn’t love her in return. There was no law against it. In fact, people did it all the time. He would never have to know. She just needed to keep things in perspective, avoid wallowing in the unrequited nature of her feelings. It would be enough to have breakfast toget
her every day and indulge in friendly banter about movies, books and local politics. There would be no sexual relationship. Right now the very thought of sex, even with dear, kind Richard, filled her with anxiety and fear. She didn’t want anyone touching her in an intimate way. Not after what Geoff Goodmann had done to her.
After several hours spent sailing on the bay, Geoff Goodmann had had a drink at the yacht club and then gone home. He was tired. It had been a tiring weekend. As he sat on his leather sofa, watching the shining water, he sent another text to Angela. Just a gentle reminder in case she was thinking of going public.
A fish wouldn’t get into trouble if it kept its mouth shut.
She would never be able to prove the texts came from him. In all his communications with her, he’d used a prepaid phone purchased under a false name. Just a safety precaution he always adopted for ‘off the record’ conversations, both professional and personal. As for the ID required in substantiating a fake identity, it was amazing what documents a lawyer could collect while finalising a deceased estate.
It had been a pity he’d lost his temper with her, but she only had herself to blame. It never would have happened if she hadn’t mentioned the other man. She’d behaved despicably, leading him on and then announcing there was somebody else, especially after she’d denied it unconditionally.
After she collapsed on the bedroom floor, he’d feared she might be dead. But then she stood up as if nothing had happened and went to the bathroom. It turned out to be a black eye, pure and simple. Still, for a brief period he’d been concerned she might contact the police. The vulnerability, which had attracted him to her in the first place, wasn’t the ingrained kind that’s built over a lifetime. Unlike Diana, there was no core of neediness inside Angela. That was what made her so dangerous. While she was in the bathroom he’d briefly thought about killing her. But he wasn’t a murderer. He didn’t have it in him. He’d always been an upholder of the law, a pillar of the community, an exemplary citizen with an unsullied record, not even a speeding ticket.
He was certain she would keep her mouth shut. She’d been so embarrassed. And even if she changed her mind, he could always deny it. If a witness had seen her entering or leaving his apartment building, he would claim Angela was a stalker. That she’d become obsessed with him after a routine appointment to have a will drawn up. That she was a sick and dangerous woman who needed psychiatric treatment. That she’d become such a nuisance he had even considered taking out an AVO against her. Kim would back up his story – Kim would do anything for him. And if Angela raised the matter of the lunch at the Verona, the maître d’ would deny ever having seen her. Even if she had told her friends about their relationship, he would assert it was all a fantasy she’d concocted in her head. Then the police would surmise she’d given herself a black eye just to get attention or that some other man had done it. The text messages on her phone from ‘Alan A.’ would give weight to the latter theory. Nobody who knew Geoff Goodmann would believe the claims of a mad widow – except for Martin, and he wouldn’t say a word. Even so, he’d thought it only wise to scour the apartment after she left. The plates and cutlery were given two rounds in the dishwasher. He vacuumed the entire place, finding a pearl button beneath the bed which he disposed of down the garbage chute. Then he removed the bed linen, vacuumed the mattress and ran the sheets, pillowcases and quilt cover through the washing machine on the hot cycle. In the bathroom, he washed down every surface with bleach. He found longish brown hair in his brush and removed it with tweezers. Then he soaked the brush in boiling water and bleach. Afterwards he decided it was safer to toss it down the garbage chute. He was sorry about the brush because he’d always been fond of the authentic tortoiseshell handle – part of an antique set he’d bought when he was working in England. Finally, he took a cloth and wiped everything she might have touched – the tripod, the binoculars, even the door knobs.
A Place of Her Own Page 21