by JD Nixon
I held my broken hand up. “Heller’s taken me away to recuperate. I’ve had a pretty awful couple of months.”
He had the grace to blush slightly, but expressed his dismay at my injury and asked how it had happened.
“Work,” I replied curtly. He’d given up any right to know anything about me.
“I’ve just come to look at the shops,” he said, a little nervous. “I’m . . . we’re staying nearby, but not here. Too pricey for me!”
A woman came up to him, and slid her arm through his.
“Sweetheart, aren’t you going to introduce us?” she asked, flicking her long, straight brown hair over her shoulders. She was shorter and rounder than me, with intelligent brown eyes behind her stylish glasses, and a bland, middle-class fashion sense. She looked at Heller and me with interest.
“Penny, this is my . . . this is Tilly and Heller. And this is Penny, my . . .”
“Fiancee,” she cut in, shooting Will a puzzled look.
My blood ran cold, and for an instant I thought my heart was going to actually stop beating.
“I had no idea,” I managed to say. “When did I see you last? About six weeks ago? You didn’t mention anything then about getting engaged. Congratulations.”
I really tried to sound sincere. He’d obviously proposed the second he’d dumped me. Or maybe even before.
Will looked as though he wished he wasn’t having this conversation.
Helpful Penny jumped in again. “It was about six weeks ago that you proposed, wasn’t it, sweetheart? As soon as we found out . . .” She giggled coyly.
“Found out what, Penny?” I asked pleasantly.
She put her hand on her stomach. “That we’re expecting.”
The world was spinning around me. I was simultaneously cold and clammy on the outside, but burning with humiliation inside. If I hadn’t had Heller’s firm arm around me, grounding me, I think I might have collapsed.
“Again, to both of you, congratulations. That must have been wonderful news for you.”
Penny again. “Well, to be honest, it came as a shock to us both. It was very unplanned! But it was a lovely surprise. Will has always wanted children, haven’t you, honey? He’s told me that a million times. He’s very excited about becoming a father.”
He nodded, looking as ill as I felt. Suddenly I couldn’t bear another second of his deceptive, cheating face.
“It was so nice to meet you, Penny. And Will, nice to catch up again. Sorry, but we have to run. Enjoy your shopping, won’t you.”
“Tilly . . .” Will remonstrated, but faltered under the sharply inquisitive eye of his wife-to-be and the murderous glare of Heller.
I turned and pressed the lift button desperately. Hurry up! I screamed silently at it. It finally arrived and as I stepped inside, my last view was of Will staring back at me in frustration.
Back in our suite, I sunk into a chair and covered my eyes with my good hand. Heller pressed a cold glass of water into my hand and sat opposite. I gulped the water hoping for some relief from my turbulent emotions.
“You handled yourself very well, Matilda. Calm, friendly and very dignified.”
“I thought I was going to be sick or collapse. That lying bastard! He must have knocked her up when we were still going out.”
“Anger’s good,” he said. “You have every right to be angry.”
I knew what he was trying to do – stop the coming deluge. But it was no use. The tears welled up unbidden and spilled over my cheeks. I’d thought I was done crying for Will. I guess I was wrong. But this time, Heller was there for me and he didn’t let me down. He held me tightly as I sobbed a giant wet patch on his shirt, gently stroking my hair and handed me his hankie when I was gasping for oxygen. He listened patiently to my incoherent and detailed listing of all the wrongs that had been done to me recently, interspersed with great watery snorts. When I had finally exhausted myself, he suggested that I take a long bubble bath.
I was immersed in bubbles, eyes closed, head resting against the rim of the deep spa bath, when he entered the bathroom, paying no heed my protests of privacy. He carried a tray with a fluted glass of very expensive French champagne, three beautifully sculpted and decadent chocolate truffles atop a lacy paper doily, and a single perfect red rose in a crystal vase. I laughed when I saw the tray. He smiled at me affectionately, tactfully ignoring my puffy red eyes and nose.
“Heller, that is so thoughtful. And absolutely perfect! It’s just what I need.”
“I call it the Bastard Recovery Platter. I’m thinking of patenting it.”
“You should. You could retire in a week on the profits. There are a lot of bastards out there.” I tried not to sound too bitter. He was one of them himself.
“If you’re feeling better I thought I might just squeeze in one last swim in the surf today before dinner. Will you be okay for a while?”
“Sure. I’m heaps better now. Go and enjoy yourself.”
I took my time, finishing my leisurely bath, enjoying both the champagne and truffles. I paced the vase on my bedside table, so I could smell the beautiful rose all night. Dressed in a bathrobe, I sat on the lounge and flicked through the TV channels. My mobile rang. It took me a while to find it, so I put it to my ear without checking the caller. I was worried it was about Daniel.
“Hello?”
“Tilly, it’s Will. Don’t hang up! Please! I really need to speak to you.”
I should have hung up. I’m not sure why I didn’t.
“Thank you. God, Tilly. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. A million times, sorry. I never wanted you to find out this way.”
I stayed silent.
“I never meant for anything like this to happen, I promise. It started with just one moment of weakness at that conference. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and Heller. I was so jealous. Penny was there and we started talking and drinking and before I knew it, I woke up in her bed the next morning.”
Silence.
“You don’t believe me. I don’t blame you.” He sighed. “Then she kept wanting to see me. When she told me she was pregnant, what was I supposed to do? It was the only honourable thing to do. Her family is very religious. They’re angry enough that she’s pregnant without being married. She was terrified of telling them.”
Silence.
“God, Tilly. I know how hurtful this must be for you. I miss you so much. I think about you every day. I dream about you. Great dreams, hot dreams. I feel like I’m going to go insane if I can’t touch you again soon.”
Silence.
“And anyway, you can’t be too hard on me. I mean, you and Heller –”
I hung up. He rang back immediately. I must be going soft in my old age or something because I picked up again.
“Tilly, I’m so sorry. God, I can’t do or say anything right. Nothing will ever make this up to you, will it?”
“I’m hanging up again now, Will. I hope you have a good life with Penny.”
I heard him curse in frustration as I hung up. He rang again, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I busied myself dressing for dinner. Heller returned not long after and had a quick shower.
I gave him all of my attention over dinner and later in the piano bar over a few drinks, where he even had a whisky. I sat close to him and wrapped my arm around his, listening to the pianist. Heller was so relaxed and so beautiful that I felt a surge of emotion for him that left me needing to take a deep breath.
“Is something the matter?” he asked.
“No,” I smiled. “Everything’s just right.”
That night in bed, our final night together, lying in each other’s arms, I told him everything that had happened with Violet on that terrible night. I didn’t spare myself, admitting how terrified and despairing I’d been, sure that I was going to die. He told me how badly she’d taken their breakup and how she’d begged and screamed for him to change his mind, threatening to kill herself, clinging to his legs and offering to do the most degrading thi
ngs for him.
“I tried to have a relationship with her,” he said, his eyes on the ceiling. “I thought I’d try seeing the same person over and over, as you do. But it didn’t really work for me. She was too demanding. I was bored. I won’t be doing that again.”
“You didn’t choose the right woman, Heller.”
“There’s no woman that’s right for me.”
“They’re all just pastimes to you,” I said sadly, remembering what he’d said about Violet.
“Not quite. There’s one woman who is so very wrong for me.” His eyes stayed on the ceiling. “She causes me so much trouble that I’m pulling my hair out in frustration. She’s not a pastime, she’s a curse to me. Why did I employ her? Why do her big beautiful eyes make me forgive any misbehaviour? Why do I think about her all the time and worry about her even more? Why won’t she ever do what I want her to do?”
“Sometimes a curse can be a blessing in disguise,” I reminded him, smiling.
He laughed loudly and rolled over to lean on his elbow. He reached out and tweaked my nose. “That’s so true, my sweet. You’re my blessing, disguised as a trouble-making, stubborn, disobedient security officer.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“No, you’re not,” he said in a low, growly voice, kissing me, his hand reaching up under my singlet top. “Sometimes you’re very, very good indeed.”
After we fooled around a little and he was asleep, I lay there listening to the ocean and thinking about everything that had happened, thinking a lot about love. I wasn’t one of those kinds of people who hold a torch for someone for years without telling them. Heller had called me emotionally open and that was probably true. If I loved someone, I wanted to tell them, otherwise how would they ever know?
My phone beeped. Quietly I retrieved it from my handbag and checked the screen. A text message. Tilly, u know I luv u stll. pls c me soon 2 talk. cant live without u. will
I deleted the message and went back to bed, cuddling up close against Heller. He roused and drew me close, his arm around me. I settled on his chest and when he was asleep again, I whispered, “I think I love you, Heller.”
“I heard that,” he said, his eyes still closed, his arm tightening around me. A smile curved his lips.
I laughed. “Good. Now you know.”
And I went to sleep.
Chapter 33
Heller, Daniel and I were summoned as witnesses in Violet’s trial, as were Clive and all the Heller’s men who’d responded to my panic button call. Predictably, the whole case had caused a media sensation, and everything that happened in the case against ‘Violent Violet’ as they’d dubbed her, was breathlessly reported. Heller, as usual, had been blunt during his numerous police interviews and had given details of what she’d been prepared to do in the bedroom for him. The lurid sexual overtones of the whole sleazy affair and the elements of torture involved in the assault titillated the public for weeks.
A huge media contingent gathered outside the courthouse each day. I couldn’t take Heller or Daniel with me as support because they were both witnesses, so Rumbles or Farrell usually escorted Mum, Dad and me through the crush to the doors on the days when I was giving evidence. Both men impressed my parents with their professionalism and politeness, but it was bittersweet for me whenever Farrell was on duty. Sometimes I’d look up to find his eyes on me, full of sweet regret.
I tried not to be emotional during my testimony, but I had to stop a few times to compose myself, overwhelmed when I remembered the sheer terror and pain to which Violet had subjected Daniel and me. And despite all of the preparation and coaching I’d been given by the prosecutors, there was little cross-examination of my testimony in the end, mostly because of the evidence. Violet had been far too cocky and her fingerprints were all over my flat and on the hammer and gun, not to mention my wine glass and salt container. The prosecutor didn’t even break a sweat on this case.
Daniel’s experience as a witness stressed him badly as he was still recuperating. Needing a cane to walk, his progress through the media scrum was slow and distressing for him, despite the Heller’s men aggressively pushing a path through. Fortunately his testimony didn’t take too long to provide, because he hadn’t seen much before Violet shot him; just me tied up to a chair, bleeding copiously, my hand tied to that paddle and looking terrified. The defence tried to make a big deal of the fact that he didn’t see his shooter, but as Violet’s fingerprints were the only ones found on the gun, that bird wasn’t flying too high.
Sid accompanied Heller to court and told me later what happened. Heller took testifying in his stride, giving his evidence in a composed and convincing way, despite having to provide extremely personal and embarrassing testimony about his relationship with Violet. Some of the explicit photos and texts that she’d sent Heller were circulated to the jury members as evidence and they all struggled to maintain their impassive faces as they examined them. He impressed the jury with his calm manner and good looks. And it wasn’t beyond anybody’s imagination to understand how a woman could become so obsessed with him.
Sid told me that Violet sat still in her seat staring at Heller every second that he was in court, not paying heed to anything anyone else said or did, not even the judge. Her fixation didn’t go unnoticed by the good members of the jury, the judge or by her lawyer, who had to hiss at her very sharply on several occasions to gain her attention. It made absolutely no impact on her; she kept her black eyes firmly focussed on Heller. Heller didn’t so much as glance in her direction even once. That had to have killed her.
As Sid spoke, I surprised myself by finding a tiny shred of sympathy inside me for Violet for being so utterly in love with a man who didn’t reciprocate. That must be such a painful experience for any woman to endure. But then I remembered that she’d expressed no remorse at all for her crimes unless she thought it would benefit her. And I remembered the sight of my Daniel limping around on his cane, pain creasing his beautiful face, and my heart hardened to stone again. When I’d testified, she regarded me with such cold loathing that I’d felt a frisson of fear running through my body again. I’d never had someone hate me so much for so little reason.
Although she pleaded not guilty, she was found guilty of two counts of grievous bodily harm with intent (one each for Daniel and me). She was sentenced to fifteen years in prison for each offence, to be served concurrently. Daniel and I both thought she should have received the maximum penalty of twenty-five years, but her solid and clean career as a cop and her extreme infatuation with Heller were considered by the judge to be mitigating circumstances.
And on hearing that, I found myself agreeing with something that Gary Warburton had said before Patricia killed him.
“And they call that justice in this country?” I ranted one night to Heller, defeated. She would probably be out on parole in seven years if she behaved herself. And then she would come looking for me, I had no doubt about that at all.
“She won’t get the chance,” he told me. And his voice was so cold and his expression so intense that a deep shudder ran up my spine, giving me goosebumps. I didn’t think that Violet would survive for long once she was released from prison. Heller was the type of man to bear a grudge for a long time. And he preferred to deal with matters himself, rather than leaving it to the authorities. I wasn’t really sure how I felt about that. I couldn’t imagine ever taking blood revenge on another human being, no matter what they’d done. I wondered how many times he’d ‘dealt’ with a person in his life. Maybe I really didn’t want to know.
“Why do you do these things?” I asked him.
He stared at me unblinkingly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
And that was the end of that discussion.
Chapter 34
Almost exactly a year later, Yoni Lemere’s new movie came to the cinema. It featured a beautiful and feisty, yet vulnerable, security officer named Millie Harmer. She was torn between her gorgeous, but mysterious, foreign boss and the
handsome Hollywood actor she’d been hired to guard during a return visit to his hometown. She ended up saving him from a gun-yielding obsessive fan (who was not a senior citizen, I noted wryly). Yoni not only starred as Millie, but was the executive producer and also credited with the idea for the ‘original’ screenplay. Her new toyboy played the actor she protected.
I forced Heller to go to the cinema with me to watch it, but I laughed so loudly at the awful acting, pained expressions and flimsy plot that we were asked to leave halfway through by the usher. Heller was very offended by the boss’s terrible heavy accent.
“I don’t sound anything like that. That’s so insulting,” he complained afterwards. “I don’t even have an accent.”
“You do, Heller,” I told him, smiling.
“No,” he said, wounded. “My English is perfect.”
“Your English is perfect, but you still have an accent.”
He was affronted by that and the movie, and refused to return to the cinema to watch it again so I could see how it ended.
So I sweet-talked Trent into taking me and we sat in the cinema, feet on the seats in front, both of us giggling during the entire movie, munching popcorn and stealing kisses through the boring bits.
Hold on! I can hear you say. Trent? Trent Dawson? The man who I said I wouldn’t let anywhere near me? The celebrity TV host with the bad reputation and the overexposed wedding tackle? And I would have to admit that, yes, it was one and the same man.
But how on earth did I end up snogging him at the movies?
Well, I guess that’s another story altogether.
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About the author:
JD Nixon lives in beautiful Queensland in Australia, writing and editing for a living. But by night, she lets a wild imagination run free.
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