by Miranda Lee
And every other day Ratchitt called in at the sweet shop, according to Muriel.
The tension in the house grew till Jason knew he had to say something.
But she beat him to it.
‘I’ve decided what I’m going to do about it,’ she said abruptly as the evening meal drew to its usual silent end. ‘I’m going to stay at the shop for a while. In my old room.’
He stared at her, his guts in instant turmoil. She was leaving him. Less than a month into their marriage and she was leaving him. A dark suspicion formed in his jealousy-ridden mind when he realised her period would have finished about now.
‘How convenient for Ratchitt.’
His snarled remark brought a look of despair. ‘You once said I’d be miserable married to Dean,’ she told him bleakly. ‘You promised to make me happy. I’m not happy, Jason. I’m more miserable than I’ve ever been in all my life.’
‘I see.’
‘Oh, no, Jason. You don’t see at all, but I’m not about to explain. You’ll only say more nasty things. You have a cruel streak in you, you know. And there I was, when I married you, thinking you were perfect.’
She stood up, and looked him straight in the eye. ‘The washing up’s yours tonight. And so is everything else till you come to your senses, Jason. I’m not leaving you. Not permanently. I take my marriage vows seriously. But you have to know I won’t put up with this. Think about things, and when you want to talk— I mean really talk, not throw around useless accusations—then I’ll come back. Meanwhile, you can abuse yourself instead of abusing me! As for food, I’m sure Muriel can always provide you with something to eat at night. Or Nancy, or any of the other women in town who still think the sun shines out of your bum! I know better!’
She spun on her heels and walked out on him. He just sat there for a long while, thinking about what she’d said, guilt consuming him over his abominable treatment of her. He knew in his heart she hadn’t been unfaithful to him. Emma would not do that. If she was going to go with Ratchitt, she’d say so first. But that didn’t mean the creep wasn’t waiting in the wings, watching for his chance.
And he was about to get a big fat one, with Emma having moved out.
Finally, he jumped to his feet. What in hell was wrong with him? What was he doing letting someone like Ratchitt ruin his marriage? He should be fighting for his woman, not giving another man every chance to steal her away from him.
And ‘fighting’ was the operative word! Men like Ratchitt didn’t understand polite conversation. They needed to have a fist shoved down their throats before they took any notice. Jason hadn’t been brought up in the outer Western suburbs of Sydney for nothing. He might seem like a civilised man on the surface, with an educated voice and fancy clothes, but underneath he was still the same streetwise kid who’d had to stand up for himself with his fists more times than he could count.
Time for action. Time to bring things down to Ratchitt’s level. Snatching up his car keys, he stormed from the house, slamming the door behind him.
Jason knew where he lived. He’d paid a house call to his cantankerous old man.
In took ten minutes to cover the distance from Tindley to the run-down old farmhouse which housed the Ratchitt men. Despite it being nearly eight o’clock by the time he turned into the rutted driveway, it was still light. With daylight saving, the sun was only just setting. A dark-haired man was tinkering with a motorbike parked in the front yard. A vicious-looking black dog was barking insanely and jumping up and down on the end of a chain nearby.
As Jason drove up, Ratchitt unfolded himself from his hunched-down position, snarled at the dog to shut up, then turned to face his visitor.
Jason eyed his competition as objectively as possible. He wasn’t handsome. Muriel was right about that. But he had those dark, bad-boy looks women seemed to go for in a big way. Long black hair which fell in rakish waves to his shoulders. Deep-set black eyes. And almost feminine lips. He wasn’t overly tall, but his physique was all macho perfection, displayed overtly in tight stone-washed jeans and a chest-hugging black T-shirt. Jason could see without looking too hard that he was well built everywhere.
Ratchitt eyed him back as he climbed out of the car, a smug smile pulling at his full lips.
Jason wanted to wipe that smile from here to Broken Hill. But he wasn’t a fool. He suddenly saw what might happen if he smashed the cocky creep’s teeth in. Emma might not be impressed at all. She might tag him as a violent man, and run to Ratchitt’s side, offering sympathy and solace.
Ratchitt’s increasingly triumphant smirk told its own tale, and Jason suddenly realised he’d made a mistake in coming here. He’d fallen right into this devious fellow’s hands. But it was too late now. No way was he going to back down and go off with his tail between his legs.
‘The good Dr Steel, I presume?’ Ratchitt drawled as Jason walked up to him.
‘And the not so good Dean Ratchitt,’ Jason countered drily.
Ratchitt grinned. ‘The one and the same. To what do I owe the honour of this call?’
‘I want you to keep away from Emma.’
‘I imagine you do. But what you want and what I want are two different things, Doc.’
Jason didn’t doubt it. ‘She doesn’t want you any more.’
He laughed. ‘Is that what she told you?’
‘In a word…yes.’
‘Emma’s always had trouble admitting what she wants.’
Jason was having trouble keeping his temper. ‘I think you’ve lost touch with what Emma wants.’
‘I don’t think so, man. Her mouth says one thing but it tells you a different story. She’s a good little kisser, isn’t she? I taught her how. I’d have taught her a hell of a lot more if she’d let me. But that’s beside the point. The point is what Emma wants.’
Jason was beginning to realise Ratchitt wasn’t as dumb as he’d thought he’d be. He was a very street-smart and cunning fellow.
‘You think I haven’t always known what was going on in her life?’ Ratchitt scoffed. ‘I have eyes and ears all over Tindley. I know she never went out with anyone in all the months I was away. She was waiting for me to come back. And she’d have said yes, lickety-split, the next time I asked her to marry me. I was just biding my time. But then you came along, Doc, and cruelled all my plans. I made the mistake of not contacting home for a couple of months and what happened? She upped and got engaged, without so much as a single date beforehand. I’d like to know how you managed that, Doc?’
‘I’ll bet you would. For the record, though, I was her aunt’s doctor during Ivy’s last months, and a regular visitor to Emma’s home. We got to know each other very well during that time.’ And he could read into that whatever he liked!
‘Oh, yes,’ he sneered. ‘Dear old Aunt Ivy. The stupid old bag, filling Emma with all that nonsense about no sex before marriage. She must have been out of the Dark Ages. If it hadn’t been for her, Emma would have been my wife now, and I’d be living in clover.’
Jason frowned. In clover? What on earth was he talking about? He could not possibly think living in the back of the sweet shop would be living in clover. Or maybe he could, he rethought, glancing around at the dump he was living in.
When his gaze moved back to Ratchitt he saw that he himself was on the end of a wry appraisal.
‘You know, when I first found out about you, I wondered what a fancy-pants doctor from Sydney wanted with my Emma. It couldn’t be her stunning beauty, I told myself. She’s a pretty little thing, but can’t hold a candle to that brunette chick you used to live with.’
Jason gaped at him, and Ratchitt grinned with malicious pleasure.
‘Yeah, Doc, I checked you out while you were away on your honeymoon. I checked her out as well. Thought it only fair. Now there’s a top sort, and bloody good in the cot, even if I say so myself. Hardly had to do a thing. She told me a lot about you, too. How ambitious you were. How much money means to you. That’s when it all clicked. I dare say old
Aunt Ivy told you about Emma’s trust fund while she was dying. It was from her parents’ estate. It comes to her when she turns twenty-five, or when she gets married. Which ever happens first. Look, I don’t blame you, Doc. Really I don’t. But you should never poach on another man’s property.’
Jason could not hide his shock. Not about Adele. He didn’t give a damn about her. But about this trust fund. Emma had never mentioned it.
Any shock quickly gave way to a startling realisation.
‘Good Lord! You were going to marry Emma for money,’ he said.
Ratchitt looked taken aback by his attitude. ‘Yeah, sure. Why else would anyone marry a silly little bitch like her? You didn’t think I was in love with her, did you? I’m just like you, Doc. Love doesn’t come into it. But I don’t even have to marry her now, thanks to you. The money’s there for the taking. She won’t be able to deny me a thing, not once she lets me give her a bit of the old Ratchitt magic.’
Jason felt his hands begin to ball into fists.
‘I hope you’ve done a good job in my place,’ Ratchitt taunted. ‘Virgins are notoriously easy to spoil, you know. They’re a bit like a new bike,’ he drawled, stroking the shiny black metal side as though it were a woman. ‘You have to run ’em in kinda slow, or they’re just never any good. Have to keep ’em well oiled too, or you’re in for a bumpy ride.’
Something exploded in Jason’s brain. Something white-hot and violent. Ratchitt was on the ground and out for the count before he knew what had happened. Jason was grimacing and shaking his bleeding knuckles when the cattle dog which had been chained up suddenly leapt at him, its fang-like jaws closing over his clean white shirt-sleeve, just below his elbow.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘NOW you know what it’s like to be on the other end of sutures,’ Doc said as he pulled the cotton tight and reached for the scissors.
Jason had called his partner from his mobile phone, after old Jim Ratchitt had pulled the dog off him and he’d escaped into the sanctuary of his car. They’d met up at the surgery in town. No point in going to Doc’s house, since it was a good fifteen-minute drive on the other side of Tindley.
Jason gritted his teeth. ‘Do you have to be so rough?’
‘Grown men who brawl like louts don’t deserve to be treated with kid gloves.’
‘A dog did this,’ Jason growled. ‘Not a man.’
‘So you told me. You up to date with your rabies shots?’
‘What?’
‘Only joking,’ Doc said, smiling through his white moustache. ‘But a booster for tetanus might be a good idea. And I’ll shoot you full of antibiotics for good measure.’
‘How’s Ratchitt, do you know?’ Jason asked as Doc went about his business.
‘Have no idea. What’s your guess?’
‘I only hit him once, but he went down like a ton of hot bricks. Must have a glass jaw.’
‘Or a coward’s heart. When some men go down, they stay down, till the danger’s past.’
‘Mmm. Do you think he might press charges?’
‘No. His type don’t go to the cops. They simply have you beaten up in retaliation one quiet night. Or they seduce your wife.’
Jason glowered at him. ‘This town knows too damned much about everyone else’s business.’
‘True. But you just have to live with that. So what’s the situation? Emma still hung up on that low-life?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. She says not, but the evidence isn’t all in. On top of that, he’s hanging around the shop and bothering her. Given his reputation with women, I find that a bit of a worry.’
‘I’d be worried too. Speaking of Emma, where is she, exactly? Hard not to notice the little wife isn’t here in the house, offering succour and comfort to her wounded husband.’
‘She’s spending a few nights at the shop. We have some things to work out.’
When Doc arched his bushy white brows, Jason gave him a narrow-eyed glare. ‘And will that piece of news be on the village grapevine tomorrow?’
‘Lord, Jason, you’re way behind the action. That will have already done the rounds, the moment Emma’s old bedroom light behind the shop went on earlier this evening.’
‘I don’t believe this,’ he muttered.
‘Then believe it. Oh, and by the way, the going odds on you and Emma divorcing are about even money. But don’t worry, lad, my money’s still on you. There! All done. You’ll be as good as new by morning surgery.’
‘Thanks a bunch.’ Jason sat up and began rolling his shirt-sleeve down, till he saw it was ripped and bloodied. Muttering under his breath, he ripped the thing off and threw it in the corner, which was a pity, since it had cost a hundred bucks.
‘Tch-tch,’ Doc said as he tidied up the consultation table. ‘Emma won’t like that. She’s a meticulous girl, is Emma.’
‘Well, too bad! She isn’t here to notice anyway, is she? I can be a slob if I want to be.’
‘You can be an idiot if you want to be too. Why don’t you go down there and tell her you love her?’
Jason’s eyes whipped round to stare at him.
Doc shrugged. ‘We all know your marriage wasn’t a love match in the beginning. But I’m betting you love her now. She’s a treasure, is our Emma. Only selfish, ignorant bums like Dean Ratchitt can’t appreciate that.’
Jason considered the suggestion for what it was worth, then discarded it. ‘She won’t believe me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Partly because she thinks I still love another woman.’
‘Just like you think she loves Ratchitt. Looks like we have two fools here instead of one.’
Jason frowned. Could Doc be right? Could Emma have fallen in love with him?
‘Don’t let too much water run under the bridge before you tell her, Jason. Dean won’t be. You mark my words. I didn’t like to mention this before, but I heard a motorbike rumble down the street a little while back. You were in too much pain to notice. If you don’t want to lose Emma for good, then I suggest you hotfoot it down to the shop before this evening’s incident is given a slant you won’t recognise.’
Jason felt sick at the thought, but confused at the same time. ‘How would he know she was there and not here…with me? She only left at tea-time.’
‘I dare say he got the news from Sheryl.
‘Sheryl lives on the other side of the sweet shop,’ Doc elaborated when Jason looked even more confused. ‘She’s a legal secretary, works for Jack Winters, Ivy’s solicitor. Went out with Dean, briefly a couple of years back. She’s a good bit older than Dean but not bad looking. And she’s never married. Probably still fancies him.’
Jason thought of Dean’s boast that he had eyes and ears all over Tindley. Who better to tell him about Emma than a next-door neighbour?
‘I have to go and get a fresh shirt first,’ he said, heading for the door.
‘Don’t go getting into another fight!’
‘I’ll do what I have to do to protect Emma from that creep.’
Doc sighed. ‘You do realise I’m getting too old for all this drama.’
‘Then retire, and I’ll get myself a new partner,’ Jason tossed over his shoulder as he hurried from the room.
‘You and what army?’ Doc called after him.
Jason grabbed the first shirt he could find. It just happened to be a black designer number which had probably cost more than Ratchitt’s whole bloody wardrobe. He was still tucking it into the waistband of his grey trousers as he bolted down the stairs and ran from the house.
He didn’t knock on Emma’s back door. He bowled straight in, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw a decidedly worse-for-wear Ratchitt sitting at the kitchen table. The right hand side of his chin was swollen, and there was an ugly bruise spoiling his macho perfection. He’d never seen a better target for a woman’s pity, whereas his wounds were well hidden.
Emma was at the kitchen sink when Jason burst in. She whirled, worry filling her face as her eyes searche
d his.
‘See?’ Ratchitt taunted straight away. ‘Not a mark on him. He jumped me when I wasn’t looking, Emma. The man’s mad. And violent. He tried to kill me. If it wasn’t for my dog, he might have.’
‘The world wouldn’t be any the less for your death, Ratchitt,’ Jason grated out. ‘But it won’t be me who does the deed. You’re not worth spending twenty years in jail for. Emma, don’t believe a word he tells you. The man’s totally without conscience. He told me this evening that his only interest in you was money, some trust fund you came into when you married. He called you a silly little bitch and said he’d never loved you. He also bragged that now he wouldn’t have to marry you to get the money. He thinks he can seduce you, then con you out of it.’
She didn’t say a word, just stared at him with startled, disbelieving eyes.
‘Just about word for word, wasn’t it, honey?’ Ratchitt drawled, rising to his feet and going over to a frozen Emma, placing a triumphantly possessive arm around her shoulders and drawing her to his side. ‘But it wasn’t me saying any of that filth, you bastard,’ he sneered at Jason. ‘It was you, as you very well know.’
Ratchitt tipped Emma’s face up to his with a gentle little gesture. ‘He boasted to me that he’d twist it all around and make out I said I wanted to marry you for the money,’ he told her, stunning Jason with the passionate sincerity in his voice and eyes. ‘But honest, Emma, I didn’t know anything about this trust fund. You think your aunt would have told me about such a thing? She might have told him, though,’ he went on, pointing an accusing finger at Jason. ‘He probably got her to confide in him when she was in a morphine daze. And what did he do? As soon as she was dead, he proposed. That proposal was a shock, wasn’t it? He hadn’t given you any indication that he cared for you before, had he?’
Jason watched, appalled, as Emma slowly shook her head.
‘I thought not. He lied to me about that, too. When I tackled him on the suddenness of your engagement, he said it wasn’t at all sudden, that you’d become great friends during his visits to your aunt. More than friends, actually. He implied you’d become lovers.’