‘Have you heard anything from the police yet?’ Hannah asked suddenly.
Quinn started. ‘No.’
‘I wonder if they’ve brought Simon in yet,’ she mused. ‘They usually do it within a couple of days, unless he’s away … Do you know whether he was planning any time away from Adelaide?’
Heat bloomed inside Quinn as she remembered the last conversation they’d had as friends and colleagues, before things had abruptly turned weird between them. How had they gone from that lighthearted conversation about their Christmas holiday plans to this, in the space of two weeks? She wondered whether he’d been looking over his shoulder while he and his family waited at the airport to board their flight on Christmas morning, expecting a hand to land on his arm at any moment, a police officer to arrest him. Or, more likely for a middle-class white man, to politely ask him to come down to the station. Whether he’d thought about what he’d done to her the day before … whether he’d felt any regret or guilt at all.
‘Actually, yeah. He was going to Noosa with his … with his family,’ she stammered.
‘Weird they didn’t let you know, though,’ Hannah said. ‘They should really stay in communication with you, not leave you hanging, wondering what’s happening.’
‘It’s fine.’ Quinn’s face was prickling. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Hannah, normally so sensitive to other people’s feelings, seemed oblivious to the distress that was beginning to rise within Quinn. ‘Have you thought about whether you’re going to take some more time off work while the police investigate the case?’ she said. ‘It’ll probably take a while for the forensic evidence to come back, and you won’t want to be in the workplace with that bastard while all that’s going on.’
‘I don’t know.’ The more Quinn thought about the reality of her situation, the more panicked she began to feel. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Well, you should consider it. You could probably get special leave … though, by all rights, he should be the one to step away. But you won’t want to be in that environment anyway, considering that’s where it happened.’
Lightning strikes illuminated the images in Quinn’s mind, one by one: Simon’s face over hers. Flash. The rip of her underwear. Flash. Her handbag falling to the ground. Flash. The edge of the desk digging into her back. Flash. His teeth on her neck. Flash. His voice in her ear.
She drained the last of her wine and set the glass down on the table, but her hand was shaking so hard that the glass fell onto its side. She snatched it back up, but there were already spiderweb cracks criss-crossing one side of it. ‘Shit!’
Hannah frowned and put a hand on Quinn’s arm. ‘You’re not OK, are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ Quinn managed to get out, trying to control her breathing. ‘Fine.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have gone on about it. Of course you don’t want to talk about it now.’
‘It’s OK.’ Quinn’s mouth stretched in an artificial smile. ‘I’m totally fine.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Hannah gave her arm a quick squeeze and stood up. ‘I’ll get you another glass.’
Quinn watched her walk away, long hair swinging, between the tables and wicker chairs where people laughed and talked and lived their normal, unchanged lives, and something drained out of her. As soon as Hannah had disappeared inside, she got out her phone. Tinder Guy had messaged her again: So what are you into?
Normally Quinn would block someone who sent this kind of message, without any small talk, but this wasn’t a normal day, a normal week, a normal month. Oblivion called to her. She unlocked her phone and typed a message back.
Why don’t you come down to the Normanville Hotel now and find out?
She dropped the phone into her lap as Hannah returned with a fresh wine glass, a bottle of water and two tumblers. ‘Here we go!’ she said brightly, pouring more wine into the new glass and handing it to Quinn.
‘You know, you don’t have to stick around for the whole bottle,’ Quinn said. ‘If you want to go and have dinner with your family, I can get myself back.’
Hannah flicked a hand at her. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m not going to leave you here on your own.’
Quinn gave her a tight smile. She loved Hannah for doing this for her; she knew what it cost her, to walk away from her family. But now they were here, she just wanted her to go.
Hannah attempted to make small talk for a while, but Quinn could barely muster more than one-word answers, and eventually they lapsed into an awkward silence. As Quinn finished her second glass of wine, her phone buzzed in her lap, and she almost leapt to her feet. ‘Going to the loo.’
I’m on my way, Tinder Guy had said. Quinn sat down on the toilet seat, head in her hands. What was she doing? It had been easy to be outraged at Hannah’s judgement earlier, but there must be something very wrong with her to want to be doing this. And now that guy was on his way here, probably ready for a wild encounter that she should never have offered up in the first place.
She returned to Hannah, who had refilled both their glasses and looked to be sending a text on her phone. The wine bottle was upside down in the ice bucket.
‘Ethan?’ Quinn said as she resumed her seat.
Hannah nodded. ‘He wants to know what to give the kids for their dinner.’
‘Do you ever wonder what he’d do if you dropped dead tomorrow?’ Quinn couldn’t resist asking.
‘I think about that all the time,’ Hannah said. ‘I literally lie awake at night worrying about what would happen if I wasn’t here anymore – school excursions, consent forms, Book Week costumes, Grace getting her period. I’ve even considered putting together a manual for him, just in case. Is that crazy?’
Quinn stared at her. ‘Jesus Christ, Hannah.’
‘I know.’ Her face turned pink. ‘I’ve got this whole contingency plan in my mind in case I get cancer or something. It stresses me out just thinking about it.’
‘Then don’t think about it!’ Quinn said. ‘He’s their father, it’s his responsibility to know this stuff too.’
Hannah stared into her wine glass, nodding. ‘You’re right.’
For a moment, Quinn forgot about her own problems as she studied the vulnerability on Hannah’s face. She’d been waiting for this for so long, this slow dawning of realisation that she was in the wrong place, that this was not who she was. But now a movement in the background caught her eye, and her gaze shifted to a point over Hannah’s shoulder, where a man was waving to her, a quizzical look on his face. Fuck. She’d forgotten about Tinder Guy. She was tempted to ignore him, focus on her friend, but he was coming over to their table.
‘It’s Quinn, right?’ He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, offering her his hand to shake. ‘I’m Patrick.’
‘Pleasure,’ Quinn said. He was reasonably good looking, with ruffled sandy hair and hazel eyes, and more like his profile picture than most guys she met on Tinder. His hand was dry and warm in hers, slightly rough.
Patrick’s eyes turned to Hannah. ‘I didn’t realise you were bringing a friend.’
Hannah turned a scandalised gaze onto Quinn. ‘What is he talking about, Quinn?’
‘This is Hannah,’ Quinn said quickly. ‘My best friend. I’m here on holiday with her husband and kids.’ She enunciated these last words very clearly. ‘I didn’t think you’d get here so quickly. We’re still finishing our bottle of wine.’
Patrick held out his hands in an expansive gesture. ‘Sorry, ladies. I didn’t mean to intrude. I can wait inside at the bar and we’ll catch up when you’re ready.’
He got up and sauntered into the pub, leaving them alone again. Quinn reluctantly met Hannah’s eyes. ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t mean—’
‘I’m trying to support you through a difficult time.’ Hannah’s lips were pale. ‘But you’re making it really hard. I brought you here because I wanted to prevent you from making a mistake that I know you’ll regret later.’
‘But it’s my m
istake to make,’ Quinn said to the table.
‘I can’t stop you. But I know you don’t really want this, Quinn.’ Her voice was pleading now. ‘It won’t make you feel any better.’
Quinn jutted her chin out. ‘It’s none of your business, though, is it?’
‘OK.’ Hannah stood up. ‘You do what you feel you need to do. I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Fine by me.’
Hannah looked down at her, chin trembling. ‘Just don’t bring him back to the house where my kids are, all right?’
Quinn wanted to cry as she watched her friend walk away. She wanted to shout after her, swear at her for assuming she would do something so awful.
She drank the rest of her wine quickly, then picked up Hannah’s still-full glass and polished that off too. With the wine’s sour aftertaste on her tongue, she got up and headed into the pub.
Patrick was at the bar, as he’d said he would be, elbows on the beer mat, talking companionably with the bartender. He looked down at her with a grin as she joined him. His face had that tanned, slightly weathered look particular to the rural man who worked outdoors, but it wasn’t unattractive. ‘Where did your friend go?’ he said.
‘Home to her family,’ Quinn said.
‘Shame.’ He turned towards her. ‘She could’ve joined us if she wanted to.’
Quinn flushed. ‘She’s not like that.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘So, what are you like?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ She felt foolish as the words left her lips. Flirting was usually second nature to her, but now it seemed foreign, ridiculous.
‘Can I buy you a drink?’ he asked.
‘I’d rather get out of here, actually.’
‘Oh. OK.’ He looked taken aback. ‘There’s nothing much open around here at this time of day. We could go back to my place if you want?’
Quinn imagined it: going with this stranger to a strange house in a small town where she knew nobody. She should be wary – scared, even – but she felt nothing. Just this heavy, dragging apathy that she longed to rip open to reach the fleshy, raw part inside. The only thing she could think was how she couldn’t be bothered with the whole rigmarole of getting to his place, making small talk, removing clothes, engaging in foreplay. He’d see her bruises, ask questions; there was no easy explanation that would shut him down. And then there was the awkwardness of how she was going to get back to the beach house without asking him for a lift – or worse, calling Hannah to come and get her.
‘I just want to fuck,’ she said.
He gave an uncomfortable chuckle. ‘You’re direct.’
Quinn shrugged. ‘I’m not here for your sparkling personality.’
He drained his beer and put his glass down on the bar. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘You’re the local, you tell me.’
He looked bewildered. She would’ve felt sorry for him if she hadn’t been so keen to get this over with. ‘Oh, come on,’ she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the exit. He followed compliantly. They walked around the perimeter of the pub, then slipped down one side between the fence and the wall. There was a rusted metal screen door, from behind which came the crash of plates and shouts from kitchen staff. A dumpster sat against the wall, the smell of decomposing food emanating from it. She led him behind it, looked over her shoulder to make sure they were out of sight, then pushed him against the wall and pulled his head down to hers. His lips were soft and light, but before long he was kissing her hard, fuelled by the risk of what they were doing.
His face was flushed when they came up for air. ‘What if someone comes around here?’
‘Well, you’ll need to make it quick, won’t you?’
There was an old table pushed against the wall, covered in dust and dead flies. She brushed it off with her hand, then perched on the edge and motioned for him to stand between her legs. He kissed her again, his hands cupping her buttocks and pulling her forward so she was pressed against him. Now she felt something; that swooning, tingling feeling that told her she was still alive, she could still feel, could still be satisfied …
‘I’ve actually never done this before.’ His lips dropped to her bare shoulder.
‘Yeah righto, Casanova.’
‘You’re so hot.’ His fingers moved to the scarf around her neck, pushing it aside to kiss her throat.
Panic leapt inside Quinn. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed down. ‘You really need to stop talking.’
He dropped to his knees, eyes bright with desire, and wiggled her underwear down. If he noticed the sickly yellow bruises on her inner thighs, he didn’t comment, just got straight to work. Quinn’s head tipped back, her eyes fluttered closed. If she couldn’t see her surroundings, couldn’t see the top of his sandy head, could just focus on the sensations in her body, maybe she could feel normal again.
It wasn’t long before the warmth began to radiate outwards in her belly and her breath came faster and faster, her muscles tensing. Then, like a bullet to her brain, she remembered: paralysis, fear, and worst of all, a truth she’d been refusing to acknowledge.
‘Stop!’ She pushed Patrick away, her body still shuddering.
He stood up immediately, shock on his face. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Nothing.’ She hopped down from the table, dusting off her hands, and pulled up her underwear. ‘Sorry, I just … I have to go.’
‘Christ. I thought … well, I thought that was what you wanted.’
‘I’m sorry, I … I can’t.’ She started to back away.
Patrick shook his head. ‘What happened? Did I do something wrong?’
Quinn was trying to gasp the breath back into her lungs. ‘I had a bad experience recently. I … I was raped, and … I just can’t do this right now.’
‘Jesus.’ His jaw worked, his eyes darted back and forth. ‘Fuck. Sorry. Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry, I don’t normally hold out like that, but … well, I’m a bit messed up right now.’
‘Sure, yeah.’ He shifted nervously, like all he wanted was to get out of there. ‘Do you need a lift somewhere?’
It would be convenient to have him drop her back at the beach house. It wasn’t far, but she had no idea how long it would take to walk, and there wasn’t much of a verge on the side of the main road. But she couldn’t bear to walk back into the house after this; couldn’t bear to face Hannah after those things she’d said. Above all, didn’t want to admit that her friend had been right, that she was too broken even for this.
She twisted her mouth into a smile. ‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’
He hesitated for a moment, as if not sure whether to believe her, then he turned away. ‘OK, well, take care, mate.’
She watched as he strode off down the side of the pub and away from her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HANNAH
The kids had gone to bed hours ago and Hannah was on the couch watching a movie with Ethan when the key in the door downstairs heralded Quinn’s return. Hannah had been only half watching the movie, her eyes continually flicking to the clock on the wall, her phone sitting beside her on the couch in case Quinn tried to call.
Guilt weighed heavily on her. She couldn’t deny she’d been furious in the moment she’d left Quinn at the pub, but not for the reason her friend probably assumed. She didn’t actually blame Quinn for wanting to do something to block out what had happened to her – she’d represented enough rape survivors in the past to know how normal that was – but she was hurt, in a tiny, childish way, that the support she’d offered hadn’t been enough. When Quinn had helped her, she’d been a lifeline for Hannah, and Hannah had held this flawed assumption that now it was her turn, and that Quinn should have been more grateful.
But Quinn had been out for hours, and now Hannah was worried about her. Anything could have happened with that guy. Quinn was struggling to process a trauma; the last thing she needed right now was to add on anoth
er one. But Hannah was her friend, not her mother, and she had to be there for Quinn in whichever way she needed her … even if that meant giving her the space to make her own choices, and her own mistakes.
Ethan glanced down the couch at Hannah as the front door slammed. ‘She’s home late.’
Hannah listened for Quinn’s steps on the stairs, but then came the sound of her body buffeting against the walls. She must be in a bad way.
Ethan held his arm out towards Hannah. ‘Can you come over here?’
Hannah’s nerves were twitching, thinking about Quinn downstairs. She wanted to go to her, but it seemed so long since she and Ethan had cuddled together on the couch. She shuffled towards him. His arm encircled her shoulders and she sank against his warm body, resting her head on his chest. She was so lucky, really. No matter how much support she gave Quinn, at the end of every day, her friend was ultimately alone. Hannah had Ethan, and their beautiful children, as buffers against the nastiness of the outside world.
‘I love you,’ Ethan murmured, bending his head to kiss her gently.
‘I love you too.’
Within moments, his hand was up her top, his mouth on her neck, his breath hot.
‘Ethan.’ Hannah sat back a little. ‘We shouldn’t. Not while Quinn’s up.’
He pulled the neck of her shirt to one side and kissed his way down her collarbone. ‘She’s probably already passed out on her bed.’
‘No, I can hear the water running. She might come up for a glass of water or something.’
‘So let’s go to bed, then.’
Before Hannah could answer, the running water shut off and there was a loud thud from downstairs. She moved away from Ethan. ‘I might go and check on her, make sure she’s all right.’
‘Oh, come on, we haven’t done it in ages.’ Ethan’s voice took on a vaguely wheedling tone that was quite off-putting.
‘I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’ She stood up.
‘She’s fine, Hannah, leave her. I bet she just dropped something.’
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