What Matters Most

by Dianne Maguire

  ‘Because if I told them it was Trevor they would have done a medical for sure. And they might have found out about Dad … but when they went ahead with the medical anyway, and knew it wasn’t from horse riding, I had to tell them something.’ She stared up, watching but not seeing the television. ‘Everyone’s going to call me slag for sure for letting Trevor do it. But I don’t care. Lots of girls at school are doing it, so … anyway, at least our family can still stay together.’

  Tim didn’t know what else to say, what to feel, even though his burning sense at that moment was the now familiar shame at being a man. He might have inherited totally screwed-up sex genes, but at least he wasn’t a rapist. ‘What do you mean you let him do it?’ Tim said, his sister’s comment suddenly resonating.

  ‘It wasn’t Trevor’s fault, Tim. I asked for it,’ she said.

  ‘Jeezus, Rachel, how can you say that?’

  ‘I did. I wanted him to do it. I wanted to feel normal like other girls. But as soon as he came near me … the smell of his face … it turned me off. I didn’t want to do it anymore.’ She vehemently shook her head, sighed and wiped her eyes with the sheet. ‘Anyway, it’s done now. He should have stopped when I told him to. The police are going to arrest him.’

  ‘Rachel … I think it’s time we told Mum. She deserves to know what Dad has been doing to you all these years. She needs to hear it from you, not the doctors or the police. They’re onto it, Rach.’ He rose from the bed and paced the room. ‘Despite what you think, Mum’s pretty strong. She can take it.’

  Rachel slipped down under the bedclothes, pulling them over her head for a few moments before suddenly reappearing. ‘It freaks me out thinking about it. Dad will go to gaol for sure and Mum will be a lonely old woman. And everyone will blame me.’

  ‘If you don’t tell her Rachel — I will. It’s time.’

  Tim left his sister when the nurses came to do their regular checks and wandered back to the family lounge, weighed down with the disappointment of knowing the old man had got away with it yet again. Then wondering if his parents were still spewing over Maggie Malloy’s determined stance that Rachel would be seeing the shrink. One wall of the corridor was hung with giant pieces of paper festooned with kids’ paintings, some brightly coloured, others monotone, most featuring smiling faces and spiky hands. Stopping to study them, a faint smile on his lips, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he thought back on his own childhood which presented itself as chillingly cold patches stretched between love and warmth. Perhaps he should talk to the shrink as well, he thought. Perhaps there was an easy explanation for his boneless-pork problem. Perhaps the solution was as simple as talking to an expert — if he could get the guts to do it.

  ‘It’s all too fucking hard,’ he muttered, passing a woman who scowled down at the little kid holding her hand, then up at Tim. Fuck it. I need a real coffee, he thought.

  The hospital’s double glass doors slid open as he approached. Only metres beyond, murmurs of relaxed conversations hung above round tables and chairs clustered on timber decking under a vine-covered pergola. Picking his way through the narrowly spaced tables, most of which were occupied, he slid through the vinyl-streamer door of a cafe to smells of fried bacon and coffee. Black-aproned staff worked at almost running pace to serve the hordes of civilians and medical personnel in uniforms and scrubs who examined lushly-packed cabinet displays or waited in line for their turn.

  Fifteen minutes later, Tim opened his carton of iced coffee, bit into one of two meat pies in their paper bag and spread today’s paper open on the table he had selected on the outer edge of the decking.

  ‘Hi, Tim.’ Looking up from his paper, about to take a large bite of his second pie, Tim felt his blush work its way across his face when he stared up at the cute nurse from the fourth floor.

  ‘You probably want to be alone,’ she said with a gentle smile.

  He lowered the bagged pie and shook his head.

  ‘Mind if I join you, then?’ she said her smile broadening.

  He pushed the chair opposite him with his foot and she sat, carefully unwrapping a toasted ham sandwich as though it was a precious work of art.

  ‘It’s great that Rachel is conscious,’ she said, taking a dainty bite from her sandwich.

  ‘Yeah. She seems to be practically back to normal.’

  ‘She’s had a rough time, hasn’t she?’ she said pursing her perfectly-shaped lips and sipping at her bottled orange juice through a straw.

  ‘Yeah. She has. Hopefully we’re on the downhill run now, Ellen,’ he said glancing at the cute nurse’s nametag.

  Tim left his pie, but sipped at his iced coffee as Ellen chatted happily about her work in the hospital. Despite the fact she took only mouselike nibbles at her sandwich, it seemed she finished it within minutes.

  ‘I guess you’ll be heading back home soon,’ she said, brushing her hands together.

  ‘Yeah, probably tonight. My little brother is with neighbours. I think Mum wants to get back to him pretty soon.’

  ‘Well, if anything changes and you’re going to be around tonight give me a call. I’m not working. We could hang out — have a drink or something.’ She stretched an open hand towards him.

  ‘Okay,’ he said digging into his pocket and handing his phone to her.

  She keyed in her number. ‘Hope you can make it,’ she said squeezing the sandwich wrapping into a ball before pressing it into the neck of her empty juice bottle. Her smile reached all the way to her brown doe-eyes. Tim watched her cute backside move under her uniform, her long legs as she pranced up the steps to the hospital entrance. Decided he could not let her down — nor himself. No way would he be ringing her.

  He returned to the newspaper, finished his pie and was rubbing his hands down the side of his pants when he spotted Mia Sandhurst grasping a sandwich bag and making her way towards his table. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Hello, Tim,’ she said, sitting sideways on the chair Ellen had vacated and placing a bagged sandwich unopened on the table. ‘I suppose Maggie told you Rachel was very strong during her interview. I’m very proud of her. You should be too.’

  He nodded. ‘It wasn’t good news though. I wanted to smash Trevor’s face in when I heard. It’s bad enough he gave her the grog. And even though he wouldn’t own up to it, he probably gave her the drugs as well, including what she took yesterday. I wouldn’t trust the bastard as far as I could throw him.’ He screwed his pie bag even tighter and tossed it on the table. Felt the heat creeping up his neck. The anger churning in his gut. He leaned back in his chair his foot breaking into a tapping motion.

  ‘The police are handling it pretty well, Tim. Noah Tamblyn rang to say Trevor is not denying Rachel’s allegations. That’s really good news. Noah said Trevor owned up to everything practically as soon as he opened the door of his house to Noah and his partner. Anyway,’ she said standing and retrieving her sandwich, ‘I’m driving back to the Peninsula now. I’ll probably see you around, seeing as how we seem to be bumping into each other on a daily basis,’ she added smiling.

  Annie looked up from the sink that was part of a bank of cupboards serving as a kitchen in the family lounge. Several mugs sat on the draining board, soapsuds sliding down their sides like warm snow. ‘Oh hello, love. Dad and I are going back now. We need to collect Ben from the Bollens. We’ll be here again tomorrow.’ She walked over and looked up at him, put her hands on his forearms. ‘Would you mind staying here by yourself, love, and keep an eye on Rachel?’

  ‘No, that’s okay.’ Hesitant at first, Tim resolved that the appeal of being stuck here with Rachel was far greater than being stuck at home with the old man and his supercilious silence. Besides, it would only be until tomorrow. ‘Where is Dad?’ he asked suddenly aware of Peter’s absence.

  ‘He’s gone to the toilet. Took the paper with him so he’ll be a while. I wish he’d get a move along,’ she said glancing at her watch. ‘I don’t want to leave Ben for any longer than we need to.’


  I for one don’t give a shit if I never see him again, Tim thought, grabbing up his novel again. He dropped onto the settee and stretched out. A nap would be a good thing.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ Annie said moments later, rubbing a mug with a teatowel. ‘That detective dropped in to let Dad and I know that Trevor Carson owned up the minute they told him what Rachel had said. That’s such good news, don’t you reckon, love? I mean I hate what he has done to our poor little Rachel, but at least now she won’t have to go to court and give evidence. Well, that’s what the detective said anyway. At least now she can get on with her life. They didn’t put Trevor in gaol. He’s out on bail, but he might have to go to gaol once the judge makes a decision. I dunno, love …’ she said, pausing before bending to replace the dried mug in the cupboard. ‘I should have listened to you. You warned me about that boy all along.’

  He watched as she thoughtfully wiped another mug. It’s not only the boys you have to worry about, Mum. Think closer to home because the worst is yet to come. I only hope you’re ready for it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Mia peered up at the illuminated numbers while she waited for the elevator to arrive thinking that, contrary to her first impression, Noah Tamblyn was a good detective after all, one who found clear purpose and energy in the work he solemnly described as ‘catching rock spiders’. His shoulders were appealingly broad as well, and on the few occasions when she had seen him smile, Mia had felt totally disarmed. The familiar ping resulted in the elevator doors sliding open, allowing Mia to step inside.

  The moving elevator’s whine faded as she thought back on the perplexing discussion she, Maggie, Lauren and Noah had had over the nagging doubts they shared about Peter Hooper and the vexing question as to whether he could possibly be Rachel’s second abuser. Noah and Lauren had been earth-shatteringly disappointed when Maggie had passed on the information Dr Shepherd had given about Peter’s family history, because although it was significant it was not sufficient to warrant robust police or welfare intervention. They could have presented it to him in the hope he would confess, but winning a lottery would have been more likely — meaning all they would achieve would be to alert Peter to their suspicions, ultimately making Rachel more vulnerable to his insidious control. They had eventually come to an agreement that the only available strategy was to wait and see in the hope that Declan would win Rachel’s trust during their impending work together and that eventually she would confide in him. Her phone rang as she stepped from the lift into the foyer of the fourth floor.

  ‘Hello, Declan. I was just thinking about you.’

  ‘Liar,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m feeling unquestionably rejected. Especially since you have not phoned me to join you on the coast.’

  ‘I’ve already invited you — remember? Actually, I’m in the city — here in the hospital,’ she said. ‘Rachel Hooper was airlifted here after an intentional drug overdose. Maggie’s made a referral to you. At last I feel as though we are finally making progress. Rachel disclosed that a local boy raped her the night of the party … anyway, you’ll know it all when you read Maggie’s referral.’

  ‘How is Rachel now?’ he asked. Mia could picture his frown over his dark-rimmed glasses. Feeling pressed for time as always, he would also be scanning a memo or report on his screen as they spoke.

  ‘Physically, much better than we expected. Mentally, she’s not good at all,’ Mia said glumly. ‘And on top of everything else, we think she may be protecting a second abuser.’

  Declan’s tone reflected his empathy for Rachel. ‘Any ideas about who it might be?’

  ‘No one wants to pre-empt anything, but the detective, Noah Tamblyn, is unofficially calling her father a person of interest. No one has approached him yet, so keep it under your hat,’ she said, hoping she still had Declan’s avid attention and that he had taken notice of her warning.

  ‘I shall see Rachel the moment I receive Maggie’s referral. Now … the reason I rang is that Debra tells me you have finally fronted up.’

  Mia chuckled. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tell me what she said. Getting information out of her was like walking waist deep in mud. I find it excruciatingly irritating the way she always puts professionalism before friendship — especially since I paid for dinner.’

  Mia snorted softly at Declan’s fake annoyance; his verbal tantrums being one of his foibles she enjoyed most. ‘She found that 300,000 dollars of our savings cannot be accounted for. And he spent 200,000 on an engagement ring from Tiffany’s. I’ve filed for divorce.’

  Declan’s voice softened. ‘Go, you brave thing. How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m gradually getting used to the idea of being a single woman again. And Eric is at least showing a modicum of decency by staying in touch with Adam. Apparently Eric and Lucinda are holidaying in the Bahamas.’

  ‘I’m glad he’s taking a vacation. Because he will need to be totally on top of things if he’s to have an even remote chance against Debra’s rabid attacks once they commence.’

  Still smiling at Declan’s humour, Mia dropped her phone back into her bag and clicked along the blue tiles of the fourth floor. The nurses’ station was entirely deserted, meaning a staff meeting or training session was in progress — or perhaps a short celebratory afternoon tea. She could have called for help, but instead she bent to the computer and scrolled through the patient list for Rachel’s room number, eventually throwing the strap of her bag over her shoulder and making her way along the corridor.

  Hesitating at the closed door of room 412, she pondered the possibility that Rachel may be asleep and wondered whether she should postpone her visit. Just to be certain she pushed the door open a crack and tentatively peered in, seeing only the pleated beige surface of the curtain that had been pulled around Rachel’s bed. Mia stepped back, was about to leave, when a series of curious sounds floated towards her from behind the curtain. She pushed the door open a little wider and listened attentively, hearing only silence. Straining harder, her eyes downcast, she studied the blue tiles as the sounds floated once again towards her: the intermittent rustling of fabric; the slow rhythmic breathing, perhaps of sleep. But it was the faint slap of skin on skin that really teased her curiosity.

  She stepped into the room and slowly crept to the bed. Peered through a narrow gap in the curtain. What she saw made every hair along the back of her neck stand on end. Morbidly immobilised as though every drop of blood had suddenly drained from her body, she watched, certain that neither one of them was aware of her presence.

  Rachel lay silently on her back with her knees bent, her head to the side, her hair covering her face like a thick dark curtain. In a chair at her side sat Peter, eyes closed, chin lifted, the outline of his left hand clearly visible beneath the sheet as it moved vigorously over Rachel’s lower body. Because of the bed’s position Mia could not see his right hand, but the intense shaking of strained, scrawny bicep, made what he was doing sickeningly and unmistakably obvious.

  Like a lion protecting her cub, Mia dropped her bag to the floor and lurched towards him, clawed and slapped at his arms and hands, repeatedly screaming, ‘Stop it. Leave her alone.’ Not immediately, but in time, his left hand stopped its grotesque activity under the pristine white sheet. And his right hand, now clearly visible to her, was suddenly still although it had not left his partially deflated penis. He gazed up at her like a confused child.

  ‘Don’t you move. Don’t you bloody move a centimetre,’ she said punching his arm once more before running to the door and pulling it open. ‘Nurse,’ she screamed, looking to each end of the corridor. She screamed again, surprised at the power of her own voice. ‘Nurse.’ Finally a nurse ran towards her. ‘Call security … immediately … please hurry,’ Mia screamed, before running back to Rachel, who remained motionless. Gently she lifted the curtain of hair to reveal Rachel’s expressionless face, her fixed stare.

  Braced for a struggle with Peter, Mia ran back to the open door
way, spread her arms across its opening and faced him. ‘Can I have some help in here, please?’ she called towards the corridor, her eyes never leaving Peter.

  As she watched him, Peter stood. Tucked himself away and zipped his pants. Then dropped into his seat again, seemingly dazed, his dark pointed eyes occasionally flicking towards her. A chill ran up her spine. There had still been no movement from Rachel — although she had at some stage lowered her legs.

  Mia scrabbled around in her bag and found her phone. Her eyes flicking between it and Peter, she shakily searched for the number and dialled. ‘Maggie, get up here to the fourth floor,’ she said. ‘I’ve just walked in on Peter abusing Rachel. She’s out to it again — but much, much worse than before.’

  ‘Have you called security?’ Maggie said, her breath quickening, the sound of her feet clearly audible as they ran.

  ‘Yes,’ Mia said.

  ‘Stay there. I’m on my way.’

  Less than a minute later, two uniformed security guards thumped along the corridor towards Mia. ‘You called security?’ one of them said, his meaty hand resting on a leather baton hanging from his belt.

  ‘Yes.’ Mia was breathing easier now, her heart no longer thumping. ‘I’m Mia Sandhurst from Emergency.’ She pointed in Peter’s direction, unable now to even look at him. ‘I’ve just seen him sexually interfering with his daughter.’

  The security guards exchanged cautious glances before the beefy one who first spoke to Mia took tentative steps towards Peter. ‘Have you called the police?’ the smaller and younger guard murmured to her.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve called them,’ Maggie said from the doorway. Mia stepped into the corridor and Maggie immediately slipped an arm around her shoulders. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.