Chapter Thirteen
Damned if You Do and Damned if You Don’t
Links: Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10 Ch11 Ch12
I had dropped off Mum’s overnight bag to the Rev’s house, chugged back up the hill in my newly purchased ancient blue Toyota, and managed to get a not-at-all-sleepy Horatio from the back of the car and into his cot.
“Nan, Nan, Nan!” he said, holding out his arms to the door.
“We’ll see Nan tomorrow.” I replied, knowing full well that tomorrow is a difficult concept for such a young person. I laid him down and gently patted his bottom, moving as hypnotically as possible. Gradually patting slower and slower. It seemed to work, and I was only almost at the end of my leaning-over-and-patting strength before his breathing deepened. I backed out of the room quietly and cautiously, not risking the sound of a closing door. I tiptoed over to my computer and perused Facebook, hoping that he would stay asleep for the whole night.
There were the usual friend requests from strange people, most of whom would probably be Wayne pretending not to be Wayne. I deleted them, although Sergeant Sahota would be able to tell me if they were a breach of the AVO. I know that there is a warrant for Wayne’s arrest now that he has tried to kill the poor Rev and Hero. The police have not managed to trace him so far.
Hero was once Wayne’s puppy, before I escaped from that relationship, taking Hero with me. This hasn’t made any difference in Wayne’s murderous attitude. In fact, I’m pretty sure that Wayne has added the taking of Hero to his long list of resentments, transgressions, and imagined slights and hurts. I don’t know how I could have imagined that Wayne would be a good partner for me. There were warning signs right from the start. I had wanted a partner to fill the gaping hole in my heart. The hole that had been left by the realisation that it was the right thing to do to leave my beloved Daniel completely alone and let him live happily with his wife after our brief and intense affair. If I truly loved him, I concluded, then I must want the best for him.
I cry as I write this, remembering Daniel’s steely grey eyes (yes, just like in a sloppy romance novel) and how they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He is so close and yet so far! He owns a farm down the escarpment in the beautiful Megalong Valley, only eight kilometres away. I met his wife, Nerida, when I waited tables at the Megalong Tea Rooms. She would drive over for a large order of scones for the farm workers’ morning tea. If it was quiet, we would chat at a table in the sun, under the towering eucalyptus trees. Hers was a romantic story of meeting, and eventually marrying Daniel.
Little did I know that when I met Daniel for the first time, I would fall head over heels in love. Corny, isn’t it? I think he loved me too although my current cynicism would say that I was an amusing distraction from his marriage difficulties. When he told me that he and Nerida had decided to try marriage counselling I didn’t have the heart to tell him of my possible pregnancy. The only person who knew was Mum. My harried and worried Mum seemed to like Wayne at first and maybe thought that all my problems would be solved by a new relationship.
When Horatio was born, I registered his birth as ‘father unknown’. When Wayne had learned of my pregnancy and demanded that I tell him who the father was, I told him it could be one of a few anonymous one-night stands. He branded me a slut, and his behaviour got even more abusive. So much so that he attempted to stab me in the main street of Blackheath! Or should I say in the main body of me! I was rescued by the fortunate presence of the great and marvellous Reverend Horace Smith and his black umbrella.
I didn’t want to be the instrument of ruin for Daniel’s chances at happiness with Nerida, so kept my secrets to myself. I eventually told my best friend, Sarika. I blame myself for everything that has happened. I was damned if I told, and damned if I didn’t. These are the mistakes that I made, and I feel that these horrible incidents were, and are, the consequences of my mistakes.