‘She won’t leave him!’ Lillian shook her head. ‘Even though she is miserable. My mother is nearly ninety and not well. She could die any day now. She figures he’ll find a way to get his hands on the money, and I think she’s right. So Mum is entrusting all of it to me but . . . God, I don’t want the responsibility!’
‘So you give it to your sister when . . .?’
She nodded. ‘My mother insists that I’m to get Marie into an independent situation, away from him, and then give her half.’
‘How are you meant to do that if she won’t . . . leave?’
‘Exactly.’ Lillian smiled sadly. ‘But I’ve got to try.’
‘So what’s the plan?’
Lillian didn’t answer.
Tom got up and sat on a chair next to her, and they sat there a while, sipping their drinks. Lillian suddenly reached across and touched his arm, giving him a nudge.
‘Get that frown off your face, Tom Mullaney,’ she laughed. ‘Don’t go worrying about my problems.’ She turned herself around to face him, put her hands on both sides of his face, pulled it down to hers and began rubbing his nose with her own. She was still sniffling a bit but smiling through her sadness as she kissed him first on each cheek and then . . . after a moment’s hesitation, quickly on the mouth.
The only way to describe that kiss from her is that it was like an electric shock. The feel of her mouth sent a pulse of wild electricity straight through Tom, setting him alight, making him reckless and crazy for more. She was about to turn away but he clutched her upper arms and pulled her back. Then he kissed her, clumsy but passionate. She resisted, but when she stood up, he stood up too and kissed her again. At first she squirmed and laughed a bit and shook her head, but then she seemed to give herself up to it and let him hold her tightly, caress her and kiss her.
The feel of her, the smell of her hair and skin was intoxicating. He couldn’t say how long they stood there by the window. Tom the eighteen-year-old schoolboy who’d never really kissed anyone before, with the lovely dark-haired, warm, passionate forty-two-year old, Lillian. It was the most wonderful sensation he’d ever known. All the pent-up passion for her that he’d been holding inside for months was suddenly and overwhelmingly coming out in that kiss.
‘Oh, Tom,’ she murmured at one point, ‘this is so silly, darling.’
‘No, it’s not,’ he managed to say. But he really had no idea. It never crossed his mind to think that it was so very inappropriate, if not dead wrong! He didn’t think of Jonty or his parents or anything else. All the love and lust he’d been feeling for months made absolute sense. He was dizzy with it.
‘Tom,’ she laughed, ‘stop this now, please.’
‘Okay.’ But the feelings racing through his blood were so powerful that he couldn’t let go. He kept kissing her, and running his hands up and down her body, revelling in the shape and softness of her, the way her back tapered down into her waist and then flared out again to make that beautiful bottom, which, until now, he’d only secretly fantasised about touching.
It was then that Tom sensed a shadow cross the window. The light in the room briefly darkened. He looked over and it was gone. He could remember thinking it was probably just a cloud as he clumsily tried to undo her blouse, desperate to touch more of the creamy skin around her neck and chest. All the while she was laughing and saying that it wasn’t a good idea, but he kept holding her and kissing her.
‘Tom, you must go home,’ she said, her voice hoarse and more serious. She sounded as though she might mean it this time, but because she didn’t actually push him away or disentangle herself, Tom didn’t take much notice. But in the middle of their next embrace she suddenly went stiff and started pushing him away frantically, before letting out a shrill laugh. Or was it a scream? Tom jerked backwards into reality and saw that her eyes were staring, wide with shock, at something behind him.
Tom turned around.
Jonty’s father, Jed van der Weihl, was standing in the doorway holding a huge bunch of beautiful flowers in his hands and staring at Lillian. The shadow must have been him coming down the side of the house to the back door. Whether he saw them embracing through the window Tom didn’t know, but he must have quietly slipped in without knocking. Jed Van der Weihl in his snappy tailored suit with his cold eyes, carrying flowers, his face mutinous with shock, staring at them. Tom gulped. He was in his school uniform.
‘You bitch.’ Jed began to laugh, softly and venomously. He moved across to the table and put his bunch of flowers down, as though he had all the time in the world, never taking his eyes off her.
Blushing furiously, Lillian tried to hold his look as she fumbled clumsily with the front buttons of her blouse.
‘Just go, Jed!’ she cried angrily. ‘Just take your flowers and get out of my house!’ It was a desperate ploy to bring a little dignity into a situation where there was none, but it was all Jed needed to unleash his unspent fury. He swiped the flowers to the floor in one movement of his arm and came towards her, grabbing her tightly by both wrists and pushing her up against the wall.
‘You bitch!’ His voice was low with anger as he tore at her blouse, making the buttons come popping off onto the floor. ‘Leading me on!’ Gripping her long hair he started to bang her head back against the wall in dull sickening thuds as he tried lifting her dress with his other hand. ‘I’ll have you anyway . . .’ he breathed into her face. ‘We’ll forget the nice stuff, eh?’ His voice was coarse and he was gasping between the words like someone at the onset of a heart attack.
Lillian was not screaming but panting and gasping, doing her best to fight him off. She didn’t have a chance.
After the initial shock, Tom swung into action but there was nothing he could do either. He tried pushing and shoving Jed away, but the older man was much heavier and stronger and swatted Tom off. Tom looked around frantically for a weapon. Some part of him must have been thinking sensibly because he went for the breadboard instead of the long knife on the kitchen table. He smashed it down as hard as he could on the back of Jed’s head. Jed gave an almighty roar, like some wild animal, then staggered a bit, momentarily stunned. But it didn’t last long. He grabbed Tom around the neck and held him up against the wall by his school shirt and tie.
‘You little punk!’ he breathed in Tom’s face, before kneeing him sharply in the groin. Tom collapsed to the floor, crying in agony.
‘Leave him alone!’ Lillian yelled.
Jed turned to find she was brandishing the knife. He sneered contemptuously but didn’t move. Tom could almost hear his brain ticking over. Lillian did look riled up enough to use it. They stood there a while, panting heavily and staring at each other.
‘Now get out of my house!’ Lillian said in a low voice, the knife held out in front of her with both trembling hands. ‘Or I swear I’ll use this!’
Jed took a couple of steps backwards, still staring at her.
Most of Lillian’s hair had come out of the bun, the curls bouncing around her shoulders, and her blouse was flapping open, showing her lace bra. Even through the crippling pain, Tom could see Jed was crazy for her, as well as furious. He is in love with her too.
‘A schoolboy?’ The man sounded as though he was being strangled. ‘Why would you lower yourself to . . .’ he waved at Tom on the floor, ‘some bloody kid?’ The steam was ebbing out of him. You could almost see it. He was still angry but truly bewildered as well. From Tom’s position on the floor he could see that underneath the fury Jed was actually begging her.
‘Do you actually think that I would willingly have anything to do with you?’ Lillian jeered at him from her position on the opposite side of the table. ‘You gross, horrible man! Do you honestly think I would cultivate my own sister’s nightmare of a husband for anything other than my own ends?’
Jed’s shoulders slumped and his eyes jerked this way and that. His expression was one of raw desire and sick shock.
‘You seemed happy enough to go to dinner . . .’ he gulped in
a soft voice, quite pathetic now. ‘You liked all that if I recall.’
Once he’d gone, Lillian put the knife down and collapsed into a corner of the room. Tom propped himself up against the wall on the other side of the table. They sat there without speaking, just looking at the beautiful flowers lying on the floor between them. Perfect blue irises and yellow roses and all this lovely white stuff that looked like snowflakes, still wrapped so nicely. Lillian got to her feet eventually and picked up the flowers.
‘Well,’ she said, her voice still shaking as she tried unsuccessfully to smile. She put the flowers on the table, went to the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a couple of vases, ‘better put these in water.’
‘Were you going to kill him?’ Tom couldn’t help asking. He was deeply curious. Jed had come assuming . . . something.
‘Oh, Tom,’ she groaned, and threw her head back shutting her eyes for a couple of moments. ‘Oh Tom, I’m such a fool!’
It surprised Tom that she was going to accept the flowers. After all, they’d come from someone she loathed. But she only laughed when he told her to throw them out.
‘Why would I do that, Tom?’ she said, filling the two biggest vases with water. ‘Such beautiful flowers! Who cares who bought them? Come on! Help me split them up.’
So Tom began to take off the wrapping paper and ribbon. To his surprise he found a long, narrow, expensively-wrapped box nestling down amongst the flowers.
‘Look what I found,’ Tom said, holding it out for her. But she didn’t take it immediately. She brought the vases over to the table, and without speaking they set about arranging the flowers together. Tom pretended to be interested but he couldn’t have given a rat’s arse about flowers. What he wanted to do was ask her how far things had progressed with Jed, and what she had planned. But more than that, he wanted to hold her again. He wanted to go straight back to how they’d been before Jed arrived on the scene.
Lillian positioned the vases carefully – one in the middle of the table and the other on the sideboard – wiped her hands down her dress and sighed as she picked up the box.
‘Let’s have a look, then,’ she said softly. Inside, nestled in plush red-velvet lining, was a gold necklace with a heart made of tiny sapphires and diamonds at its centre.
‘Oh, wow!’ She laughed with delight as she held it out for Tom to admire. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ Then she began to examine the box carefully, checking out the plush lining and the gold lettering.
‘Eighteen-carat!’ she whispered in awe. ‘Wow!’ She looked at Tom. ‘Real quality!’
‘Nice,’ Tom murmured sourly. It was no cheapo number, that was for sure. The knotted deep gold rings were pink-tinged, and the stones twinkled in the late afternoon light from the window.
‘Help me put it on,’ Lillian said, putting the necklace up around her throat and turning around. Tom’s hands shook as he brushed away her hair and opened the clasp. This finicky task took a while. And all the time his clumsy hands were trying to position the two parts of the clasp together he was thinking about bending down a little further to kiss her neck and then her lovely little ears. But he didn’t. Once the necklace was secure he stepped back, and she moved over to the mirror near the window.
Bemused, fascinated and aching with love, Tom watched her admiring herself. The necklace sat perfectly on her neck. Against her olive skin and dark hair, the deep gold and bright stones caught and accentuated the sparkle in her eyes. Tom came up behind her and put both hands on her shoulders for a moment, then wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, looking at her in the mirror.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, awestruck by her lovely image. Tom wished passionately that he was old enough and rich enough to buy something like it to take this one’s place. He longed to give her this kind of pleasure, and make her smile in this special dreamy way. ‘But you can’t keep it.’
‘But I can!’ she laughed, without taking her eyes off her reflection. ‘I’ve never had anything as lovely as this before!’
Tom let go of her and backed away. For Christ’s sake! She had to be joking. After the previous acrimonious scene it was unbelievable for her to think of keeping it.
‘Marie and I never had anything beautiful,’ Lillian explained, moving closer to the mirror, her long pretty fingers moving up and down the chain. ‘My mother is so wealthy, but always so tight-fisted!’ She turned to Tom. ‘Wouldn’t you think that we’d at least have had what other kids had?’
‘Why was she like that?’ Tom asked, but he wasn’t really interested in her childhood. Of course she wouldn’t keep the necklace! She’d see sense any moment now and he’d help her return it.
‘Said it would do us good. Toughen us up,’ Lillian said bitterly. ‘Build our characters.’ The light seemed to go out of her eyes. ‘When we were little, Marie and I used to fantasise about having plastic lunch boxes and cordial bottles like everyone else!’
‘But you’ll probably see him again,’ Tom protested hotly. ‘How embarrassing will that be?’
But Lillian only laughed one of her throaty laughs that caught Tom in the guts and lower, and turned briefly to ruffle his hair in a way he didn’t much like. She was treating him like a kid again. She turned back to the mirror, fingered the necklace lightly, and laughed again.
‘It will be my revenge,’ she whispered, ‘and there will be nothing he can do about it!’ She turned to look at Tom, still smiling. ‘He gave it to me, didn’t he? The risk would be that I’d tell everyone if he asked for it back. He wouldn’t want that kind of humiliation.’
‘But Lillian!’ Tom’s mouth opened in protest.
‘It’s mine now,’ she said firmly.
Tom went home soon after that, downhearted and confused. He could tell she wanted to be alone.
From then on she wore the bloody thing all the time. She never took it off. Tom sometimes heard people ask her about the necklace. Where had she got it? Was it a gift or an heirloom? She told a different story each time. First she’d inherited it from her mother and had only just decided to drag it out of the closet, then it had been a gift from a past boyfriend, and finally she said she’d saved for it herself. It was my little gift to me for having the courage to go back to school. Tom never knew where to look when she told these stories. It wasn’t so much the lies that confused him as the way she told them. It just seemed too easy for her. She didn’t blush or hesitate at all. It was as though she’d forgotten how she came to have it. And it made Tom doubt her. It made him question who she actually was deep down.
How well do you ever know another person?
But it didn’t stop him loving her. Far from it. That afternoon was the only time things ever got out of hand between him and Lillian, but . . . it wasn’t for want of trying on Tom’s part. The whole necklace episode made him even more crazy about her. After that day she filled every waking hour. He was desperate to kiss her again and to feel her in his arms. He woke in a sweat most nights from dreams of making love with her.
But . . . it never happened.
Tom gets up and leaves for work while his father is in the shower. A rolled up copy of the Chronicle is lying on the doorstep when he steps out into the cold air, but he decides to wait till he gets to the office. Let his father read it by himself.
He is pulling up in front of the office when he sees the front page in the wire billboard out the front of the Chronicle building.
Brother-in-law admits guilt, with a small photo of Lillian underneath. Tom turns off the engine and sits there behind the wheel, letting the cold feeling pass through his arms and legs.
He gets out of the car and walks into the office, says good morning to cheery middle-aged Margaret at the front desk and picks up a copy of the paper on his way through to the back room, where the photographers hang out with all the equipment. His boss, Steve, is alone, sitting at one of the computers, going through shots. He looks up when Tom comes in.
‘G’day, Tom!’ He takes a moment to register Tom’s r
umpled appearance and smiles. ‘Hard night on the turps, eh?’
‘Yeah.’ Tom manages to sound jocular. He slumps down at the little table with his paper.
‘Got a bit on today,’ Steve continues, conversationally, ‘and I’ll need you down at the golf club at eleven. Some old dear is leaving the committee.’ He notices Tom reading the article and frowns thoughtfully. ‘You went to school with that van der Weihl kid, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ Tom’s heart has already started to quicken as he scans the article.
‘Seems it was his old man all along.’ Steve is scathing. ‘Imagine letting your own kid do time for some crime you committed!’
‘Hmmm.’
‘I’ll let you read it then.’ Steve goes to the fridge for milk. ‘You want a coffee?’
‘Thanks.’
There is not much more in the article than Alice told him the night before. Details of the murder are described again, along with the photo and a brief rundown of Lillian’s life. Jonty is mentioned as the one initially charged. The police spokesman admits that they were shocked when Jed van der Weihl came home recently from South Africa to admit guilt for the murder.
Alice. Her face comes to Tom without warning. What will this be like for her? He closes his eyes and tries to imagine her picking up the local rag to find her mother’s photo on the front page, again.
Tom takes a few slurps of coffee and suddenly he’s woozy and dazed. He feels as though he’s been hit by a truck that he didn’t see coming. His father will have heard the news by now.
‘Hey, mate,’ Steve is concerned, ‘you’ve gone pale. Feel all right?’
Tom nods and tries to breathe deeply. But he knows he’s going to chuck.
‘Ate something weird last night,’ Tom lies as he makes his way to the back bathroom.
After throwing up his guts he feels better. It will be lunchtime after the golf club assignment, so he’ll call the office and hear his old man’s take on it all. Tom washes his hands and has a long drink of water from the tap. When he heads out again, Steve is checking a list of names.
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