Retribution: Who would you kill to escape your past?

by Diane Demetre

  By nine o’clock that evening, BJ sat proud and pleased with himself, his fourth beer in hand. Not only had he turned over the soil, he’d been out, bought and planted the bee-and bird-attracting plants he needed to turn his compound into his own little slice of Coodravale. Sodden from a good watering, the garden of seedlings glimmered in the back yard floodlights. I need softer garden lighting. Something more subtle. “Whiskey, your master is turning into a certifiable romantic.” He reached down to stroke his dog’s happy face and grinned. “Come on, girl. Time for a shower and bed. Tomorrow, you and I will clean the Jeep. It could pass as a mud cake at the moment.”

  Trudging into the house with Whiskey heeling at his side, he closed the back door and turned off the lights. “It’s been a long day, girl. In fact, it’s been a long few weeks. It’s damn good to be home…”

  Chapter 52

  This lawyer seems a nice enough sort of bloke. He just sat there for the last hour taking notes and nodding his head. I decided there was no point in not telling him. So I told him everything. About my mother and her rose switch beatings and locking me under the cupboard, about her boyfriends and their cocks, and how they used their dogs to bail me up until I did the things they wanted, about killing Muffin and drowning Chrissie, and about kidnapping Jessie. I gave him every detail I could remember. It felt good to finally tell someone. To get it all off my chest.

  “So, that’s it Mr Stephenson. Do you think I’ll have to go to jail? I can’t go there. They’ll do terrible things to me. I just know it.”

  “Well Mr Norton, I will need to corroborate the details you have given me, but if they are confirmed, I can almost guarantee you won’t be going to jail.”

  “Really? You mean you’ll get me off?”

  “No, I don’t think that is likely. However, we will plead you out before your case even goes to trial.”

  “Plead me out? What does that mean?”

  “Based on the terrible sexual, physical, emotional and mental abuse you suffered as a child, I think the best course of action is to plead mental impairment.”

  “But I’m not mad. I’m not crazy.”

  “That is not for me to say, but you have experienced extreme damage from a highly violent and sexualized childhood. A trauma which you acted out time and again as you grew older. You began by being cruel to animals and then you progressed to humans. Mr Norton, you have suffered things no person, particularly a child, should ever have to endure. Do you know what retribution means?”

  “It means payback.”

  “Indeed it does, Mr Norton. You took revenge on whoever you could for what had been done to you. Yours is a very sad story. But can I ask you this? Why Chrissie and Jessie? You just told me how much you liked them both. Did it have something to do with them being ballet dancers?”

  “Mum made me watch ballet on TV after her boyfriends left. She loved ballet. She said it was my fault she never became a ballerina. That’s why I had to do those things to her boyfriends. It was my penance for ruining her life. Over and over, we’d watch the ballet. When the ballerinas danced, she’d tug at my cock and tell me I could never play with myself. That if I was more of man, maybe I’d get lucky one day and a ballerina would suck my cock instead of me having to suck her boyfriends’ cocks.”

  For the first time since Mr Stephenson sat in this God forsaken cell, he stopped writing, put his pen down and looked like he didn’t know what to say. Poor Mr Stephenson.

  “Tell me, Skip, whatever happened to your mother?”

  “The last I saw her was at my flat in Melbourne.”

  “Did she come to visit?”

  I laughed. “Oh, no. She hasn’t visited anyone in years.”

  Mr Stephenson blinked and looked more uneasy than ever. “Go on…”

  “The last I saw of her was her lifeless eyes staring out of her fucking ugly, frozen face in my freezer. Her days of messing with me are through, Mr Stephenson.”

  Chapter 53

  Inside the Australian Ballet Company’s rehearsal studio and with her hand resting on the barre, Jessie was truly home. Her body dripped with perspiration and her muscles screamed in agonised delight. Across the aisle, Jasmine stood at the other barre. With her blonde hair captured in a top knot bun and her strong body wrapped in sweaty gear, she wore an expression of concentrated focus. Their eyes met, and Jessie winked at her best friend. Jasmine winked back. It was a quick, naughty respite from the gruelling morning’s class. Their working feet lifted in long, slow passés while their supporting legs locked high on pointe. All the dancers resembled a flock of flamingos, graceful and slightly peculiar in stature.

  “And one, and two, and three, close four.” Counting out the tempo, the ballet mistress weaved her way between the two barre, inspecting the dancers’ technique. Hesitating beside Jessie, she tinkered with her arm and leaned close into her ear. “It’s good to have you back, Jessie.”

  “Thank you, Miss.” Inspired to work even harder, she stretched taller, sucked in her stomach flatter and managed a self-satisfied smile.

  The sound of the door opening signalled a change of energy and, although no one broke movement, all eyes turned to see David Fitzgibbons stride regally into the studio. Without a word, he took his position in a straight-backed chair in the front of the class, crossed his legs and folded his arms. Jessie noted he remained like this for at least ten minutes watching her, only her. The more he scrutinised, the stronger she became. His steely stare would not faze her. This was her time.

  “Thank you everyone. Take ten minutes, please.” In a velvety, yet authoritative voice, David dismissed the company and rose from his chair. “Jessie, may I see you?”

  With a quick sideways glance at Jasmine, she pattered over to him. “Hello, David.”

  “Hello, Jessie. It’s good to have you back. Please have a seat.” He motioned to the chair beside him and when Jessie lowered herself to sit, he mirrored. “I understand you’ve been through a tough time? What with your father’s death and the kidnapping…”

  She noted his eyes surreptitiously inspecting her bare limbs. Checking for damage. Can’t have a blemished ballerina in the company. Gluing a sweet smile to her face, she lifted her chin. “Yes, it was challenging, but here I am. Back and ready to dance my role of the Sugar Plum Fairy in tonight and tomorrow night’s performances—the last two of the season.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, he scrutinised her carefully. “Are you sure you’re up for this? We’ve been without you and Tabitha all this time. Kelly has done an admirable job in the role in your absence. So she can still dance the last two nights if you’re not able.”

  “I’m sure Kelly has done an admirable job, but I intend to do a remarkable job. It is my role, and I would like to dance it tonight and tomorrow. I’m ready to return.”

  Outside, she was all confidence and boldness. Inside, her nerves sizzled like party sparklers. This is my time. This is my time.

  “Very well, Jessie.” He rose signalling the meeting was over. Likewise, she stood. “You return to the role tonight. I will inform the ballet mistress for rehearsals today.” Leaning towards her, David clasped her shoulders and whispered close to her ear. “Dance like I know you can.” Her skin tingled. As he pulled away, his smile seemed filled with hidden meaning. She knew that her future lay in no one else’s hands except her own.

  “Oh, Miss Jessie, I am so sorry Skippy did that to you.” Salvatore fawned over her as she and Jasmine settled in for after-rehearsal coffees at his café.

  “It’s not your fault, Salvatore. You weren’t to know Skip was planning anything. Besides, it’s over now. So let’s not talk about it.” Shooting him a forgiving smile, she hoped he wouldn’t continue. She didn’t want her focus broken from her preparations for tonight’s performance.

  “Of course. Of course. Today, the coffees are on me. Enjoy.” Although concern still creased his face, Salvatore made a gracious exit, leaving them alone.

  “So back to the Sugar Plum Fairy tonight? I’m s
o proud of you.” Jasmine reached over, grabbing her friend’s hand.

  “After everything that’s happened, I figured if I can get through all that, I can dance tonight and tomorrow. With Tabitha still off with her ankle, this is my chance to show David who should be the principal dancer for next year.”

  “That a girl. Show him what you’re really made of. Once he sees you perform, I’m certain he’ll give you the job. What else could he do? Tabitha may not be strong enough to do it anyway.”

  “But I don’t want it by default. I want it because I deserve it.”

  “What does it matter? Don’t think about why, just get it. In the end, it’s all the same. It’s yours.” Jasmine lifted her coffee cup in a toast to her best friend. “Jessie Hilton, the Australian Ballet’s next principal dancer.”

  Unwilling to suppress the confident smile stretching across her face, Jessie accepted her friend’s toast. These next two nights were deal breakers for her career and she intended to dance her way into the annals of the Australian Ballet Company.

  Chapter 54

  Surprised at how quickly the first two months of the new year had slipped by, BJ stood reminiscing in front of his bathroom mirror. Christmas Day at Coodravale with Jessie, Joanna and Richard had been delightful. Despite the absence of Ken, the Hilton family had enjoyed their time together. The trip to introduce Jessie to his family had also been terrific. It was love at first sight for his mother and uncle when they met her. Having someone in her son’s life to love and look after him had his mother crowing with pleasure—although he wasn’t too sure if Jessie agreed with the ‘look after’ bit. Regardless, she had been accepted with open arms.

  He gazed down at the faithful black and white furry face beside his legs. “Tonight’s the big night, Whiskey. Jessie and I will be home later to celebrate. So you’ll just have to hold the fort by yourself. Okay?” Taking the nudge of Whiskey’s head as confirmation, he resumed the last of his grooming.

  The buzzing of his phone interrupted him. “Angel, what’s up?”

  “Good news about the Norton case. As I suspected, the accused’s counsel has pleaded not guilty under the defence of mental impairment. The judge has just handed down his determination, and he’s sanctioned Norton under the mental health act. The case will not go to trial. Norton will be institutionalised. The case is closed.”

  “Wow, that’s terrific news.”

  “It certainly is. I just called Jessie, and she’s relieved.”

  “I bet. She really didn’t want to relive the whole thing in court, although she was willing to do it.”

  “You know, BJ. The abuse Norton went through as a child is beyond comprehension. It’s no wonder he turned out the way he did.”

  For a fleeting moment, BJ thought of what Jessie had endured at the hands of her uncle. “I hear you Angel, but it’s no excuse. I’m sure there are a lot of people out there who go through all sorts of abuse as kids. Some find their way out as adults, while others don’t. It doesn’t minimise the abuse or lessen the pain. It’s just that some people put a different spin on it in their own minds. Redemption, rather than retribution becomes their MO.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Who knows? Maybe with the right psychiatric help, Norton will find the boy he lost all those years ago.”

  “Stranger things can happen. Anyway, thanks for letting me know.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll see you later then.”

  “Absolutely. Bye.” He ended the call on a high emotional note. “With everything falling into place for us at the moment, wait till we start our search and rescue training next week, Whiskey. We’ll top the class in no time.” Bending down he ruffled her lopsided ears. “You saved me, girl. You kept me sane until Jessie came along. Then you saved her. You’re the best rescue dog ever. Good girl.” As Whiskey’s tongue licked his hand, she seemed most pleased with herself.

  Returning to the mirror, BJ finished the ritual with a splash of aftershave. Inspecting his reflection, he stepped back. If his smile widened any more, he felt sure his face would split in two. Happy, he was deliriously happy, and he hoped tonight Jessie would be too.

  Next stop. The bedroom. While he slipped into his shirt, his eyes wandered to the bedside tables, where most of the photos were of him, Jessie and Whiskey. His favourite photo of Rachael and Tiffany still rested in full view—a changing collection of joyful memories, past and present. Stepping into his black trousers, he reflected on how he and Jessie had decided to let their relationship grow in its own time. Neither of them wanted to rush into anything. They wanted to get to know each other without all the drama which initially brought them together. But the sexual tension between them had now reached a tipping point, which was evidenced by the difficulty to zip up his trousers at the mere thought of taking her into his bed.

  Black socks, patent leather shoes, bow tie and jacket finished the ensemble. “Okay Whiskey. Outside for you.” Leading the way, he walked to the back door. On opening it, he scanned the perimeters, taking delight in his top garden. The plants and flowers had begun to work their magic attracting a few birds and bees into the property. By next summer, more wildlife would abound in his back yard. “Maybe we’ll even have wombats, Whiskey?” He chuckled as he coaxed her outside. “See you soon, girl.”

  Between Angel and Ricky, he sat agog. Dressed in their finery, the three of them had entered the auditorium earlier to escape the crush. Now as the bell chimed the final call, they settled back taking in the civilised urgency of the occasion. Over three tiers of cutting edge, contemporary design, at least two thousand people whispered excitedly as they located their plush red velvet seats. Tense anticipation electrified the air in Hamer Hall for this special night—the opening of the Australian Ballet Company’s season for the New Year.

  “I don’t know how she does it.” Angel craned his neck to look around the auditorium. “Having all these people watching you must be daunting.”

  “I agree. Going into combat’s easier than this,” said Ricky as he watched the hordes of people enter the main performance space of the Arts Centre Melbourne.

  “Hello, Brad.” From behind him a familiar voice cooed and a hand tapped his shoulder.

  Swivelling around, his face drew in a warm welcome. “Joanna. Richard. You remember Ricky from Ken’s funeral, and this is Angel, the crown prosecutor who spoke with you on the phone.” They exchanged hurried greetings.

  “Thank you for buying our seats, Brad.” Joanna leaned forward with a kiss to his cheek.

  “You’re most welcome. Can’t have you missing out…” He squeezed her hand and shot Richard a brotherly glance before settling back into his seat. “Check it out, fellas. That’s my girl.” The program of Swan Lake lay open in his hands. On the page, an image of a radiant Jessie leaped out to the reader with the caption…

  Jessica Hilton Principal Artist

  Jessica Hilton possesses a rare artistry. Her dancing is marked by superb grace and elegance, as witnessed in her debut performance of Odette/Odile, Swan Lake.

  Before either of his mates could respond, the house lights dimmed and an instantaneous hush fell over the auditorium. Applause echoed as the conductor took his position and quelled the orchestra. Silence settled and a rush of energy flowed through the venue like a tidal wave.

  “This is it,” he whispered, brimming with pride.

  From the orchestra pit, the lilting sound of the strings and oboes drifted on the auditorium’s perfect acoustics. Their melancholy refrain of the theme of Swan Lake touched BJ so unexpectedly, his eyes moistened with tears. Surprised at his response, he swallowed hard, rubbing his palm across his mouth. In his chest, his heart thudded. Or did it cleave open? So much love, so much life, so much beauty. He’d not heard anything like it before. And as he fought to control the rising emotion, the last tenuous threads of anger, grief and revenge floated away as the heavy, proscenium curtain lifted…

  Chapter 55

  Standing in the wings, Jessie fidgeted. She’d finally d
one it. She’d fulfilled the destiny she’d dreamed about and for which she’d worked so hard. Swan Lake, Act One, Scene One was underway and here she waited, ready for her entrance as Odette—the Swan Queen. Around her, a hive of activity buzzed as crew and dressers readied themselves for the first scene change. Aside from being on stage, she loved the backstage energy as it ramped up through a performance. Everyone had their job to do and each was integral to the other. Regardless of the star status the dancers may be given, she appreciated how many people got her to this point. Not just from her past, but also in each performance, every night.

  Costumed in a hand-made tutu of white satin and tulle, lustrous beads, elegant pearl tiara and drop earrings, she slowed her breathing. As she batted her extravagantly long false eyelashes and pressed her ruby red lips together, she drew her focus away from the backstage logistics. Centring within, there was nothing left for her to do now except perform the role to which she was born.

  Supremely fit, strong and flexible, she’d ensured nothing had distracted her from this moment over these past couple of months. Not even the new man in her life, BJ. Seated somewhere in the blackness of the audience he, Angel, Ricky, her mother and Richard waited—all of them supporting her, willing her on. She cast her eyes towards the lighting gantry hanging over the stage with its hundreds of stage lights. This one’s for you, Dad. Instinctively her hand touched the top of her bodice above her heart. Sewn into the lining hid her childhood gold swan necklace. Thanks for getting me here safe and sound…She glanced down at her perfectly manicured nails, delighted that she no longer chewed her cuticles. At last, she was unblemished.