Brittle Shadows (28 page)

“And the old?”
he prompted.

“That, too.”

“That too
what?”

“I like that,
too.”

“Thanks a lot.”

She laughed,
the banter lifting her spirits. “You said it, not me.”

“You’ll keep,”
he said. “So what’s your answer? Are you free for dinner tonight?”

She hesitated.
As tired as she was, a night out with living, breathing company had to be
preferable to staying in with her thoughts.

“Of course if
you have a better offer…”

“No, it’s not
that. I’m just wondering if falling asleep at the table would be a good look.”

“You mean like
that first dinner we had?”

She groaned.
“Don’t remind me. Anyway, the answer to your question is yes, but something
low-key, please. I don’t have the energy for anything more.” A thought struck
her. “I hope you’re not doing this because you feel obligated.”

“Now, why would
you think that?”

Though he
couldn’t see her, she shrugged. “The annoying kid sister syndrome?”

“We all grow
up. How does fish and chips in the park with the possums and mossies appeal?
Low-key enough?”

She told him it
sounded perfect. They arranged to meet at 7 p.m. and said their goodbyes.

No sooner had
she hung up, when it rang again. She pulled a face and took a deep breath. The
sooner she got it over with, the better.

“Scapegoat
Hotline,” she announced, exasperation behind her flippancy. “How may I help
you?”

“I hope you’re
satisfied with yourself.” Marcus’s deep voice cut right through her.

She closed her
eyes and exhaled. “As much as I would like to see you held to account, I am not
the one responsible for posting that footage of you and Sean on the Internet.
Nor did I write, publish or otherwise that allegation about you having Sean
killed to protect your sordid secret.”

“What do you
take me for? Stupid?”

“That depends
on your definition,” she said, physical distance bolstering her courage. “What
do you call screwing your personal assistant’s fiancé, your chauffeur?”

Marcus sighed.
“We all make mistakes,” he said, his voice taking on a resigned tone. “Granted,
some larger than others.”

“How big? Was
your wife right when she accused you of having an affair with Tanya?”

For a few
moments, he said nothing. “About as right as she was when she accused me of
having an affair with you.”

Jemma pushed
on. “Did you know Tanya was six weeks pregnant when she died?”

Another
silence. “No.”

“Ash didn’t
tell you then?” she asked, psyching herself up for the big question.

“What?”

“Don’t you two
ever talk? Even when you’re living under the same roof as you are now?”

“Not as much as
I would like.” Marcus gave a weary sigh. “Six weeks you say?”

“Yes.” She
paused, lowering her voice. “Was it yours, Marcus?”

“Don’t be
ridiculous,” he said, the hard edge back.

“What’s so
ridiculous about it? It’s obvious you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

“Talk to your
aunt. Then you’ll understand.”

Talk to your aunt… talk to your
aunt… talk to your aunt…

Marcus’s words
went round and round in Jemma’s head. Her hands shook as she dialed Gail’s
number.

“Hello, Jemma,
love. I hope you’re ringing to tell me what time you want me to pick you up
from the airport.”

She swallowed.
“Not exactly, no.”

“Oh. Nothing
wrong is there?”

“I don’t know.
You tell me.”

“You’re
starting to scare me, love. Talk to me.”

“Marcus
Bartlett.”

“Oh.”

“Is that it?”
Jemma’s voice rose in pitch. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

“Your mum swore
me to secrecy,” Gail said. “She didn’t even want Tanya to know.”

“Know what?”

“Oh.”

“Please stop
saying that. Tell me.”

Gail coughed.
“Oh dear, where to start?”

“The beginning
would be good.”

“Yes, yes. I
just need a wee moment.”

Jemma tensed,
her heart thumping.
Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to
,
she thought.

“I don’t know
how to tell you this, but Tanya was Marcus’s biological daughter, not—”

“No! How can
that be? How, Gail? We were sisters. I’ve seen Tanya’s birth certificate. It
clearly states Robert Benjamin Dalton is the father.”

“And in all the
ways that count, he was. You are still sisters. No one can take that away from
you. Your father was a very special man and your mother loved him with all her
heart. She was already pregnant when they met, but nothing could change
Robert’s feelings toward Karen, not even another man’s baby.”

“Are you saying
as soon as Marcus found out Mum was pregnant, he abandoned her?”

“It’s not quite
like that, Jemma, love. The relationship had already ended when your mother
discovered she was pregnant. Marcus was also married.”

Jemma humphed.
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Anyway,” Gail
continued, “your mum decided nothing would be gained by telling either of you.
She made a pact with those in the know never to reveal the truth.”

“Our whole
lives built on a lie,” Jemma whispered. Tears welled in her eyes. “So why send
her to Melbourne? Her working for Marcus was no coincidence, was it?”

“I was at my
wit’s end, love. Your sister was running wild, skipping school, drinking and
partying all hours of the night. It was her way of handling the grief of your
mum dying. Sending her to her father was a last resort, the only way I could
think of helping her.”

“Did Tanya know
Marcus was her father?” Jemma asked, bits of the puzzle beginning to fall into
place.

“I don’t know.
She wasn’t supposed to find out, but if she did, she kept it to herself.”

A vision of
Ash’s face flashed through Jemma’s mind. “What about his family – his
legitimate family? Did they know?”

“Again, I don’t
think so, but I can’t know for sure. Only Marcus can answer that.”

“Bastard.”

“Please, love,
he’s not a bad man. They were both so young. He and your mum did what they
thought was best at the time.”

“Some things
never change,” Jemma said under her breath.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.” How
could she tell Gail that Marcus had screwed his own daughter’s fiancé? What
could be worse than finding out the man you were about to marry was having a
homosexual affair with your boss? Finding out that man was your father, that’s
what. Had Tanya known the identity of Sean’s lover? Jemma could only pray she
hadn’t. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Like when I asked you about
Tanya’s wealth? It all makes sense now, but you must have known or at least had
a pretty good idea where it stemmed from then?”

“I’m sorry,
love,” Gail said. “I was just trying to protect you. You’ve had more than enough
to deal with in your young life. I thought what you didn’t know, couldn’t hurt
you.”

Jemma sniffed,
searching in her bag for a tissue. “I’m not a child.”

“Of course not,
and I don’t mean to treat you as one.”

Struggling to
hold it together, Jemma made her excuses and hung up. She didn’t want her aunt
to treat her like a child, yet here she was on the verge of bawling like one.
She closed her eyes, her lungs expanding as she took a long, slow breath. After
a count of ten, she released it. Misguided as they were, her aunt’s intentions
were never meant to hurt. But they did.

And Tanya, how
much worse must it have been for her to find out her father wasn’t her father
and her sister was her half-sister? Not to mention the existence of a
half-brother; a half-brother whom she might have unknowingly had an incestuous
relationship with. Assuming, of course, that she knew. A life built on shadows.

Jemma gulped air, the tension in
her chest crushing her lungs. Her head pounded. Her emotions swung from an
overwhelming sense of loss to feeling betrayed to anger and back again. The
apartment’s four walls were closing in on her. She had to get out.

Her sandals
exchanged for sneakers, she fled the apartment, headed for the park across the
street. She left behind her mobile phone, taking only her keys. She didn’t want
to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to see anyone.

The traffic
lights changed. She ran and kept on running, down the avenue of plane trees,
around the Royal Exhibition Building, behind the museum, past the tennis
courts, pushing her body to its limits. Physical pain eased the mental anguish.
What was real and what wasn’t? Who was real and who wasn’t? Even the one person
she thought she could trust, her aunt, had deceived her.

With her lungs
fit to burst, she veered off the path onto the grass, collapsing in a heap
beneath the trees. She lay on her back on the hard ground, panting, sweat
dripping from her every pore. Her eyes closed against the shafts of late
afternoon sun, she tried to imagine a world where honesty counted for
something. Unlike the world she inhabited, where nothing was as it seemed. For
all she knew, Tanya wasn’t even her half-sister, her father wasn’t her father,
her mother wasn’t her mother. And if Ash was Tanya’s half-brother and Tanya was
her half-sister what did that make Ash to her? Jemma’s breathing slowed.

She woke with a
start, the whiskers of a small white dog tickling her face. Jemma sat up before
its female owner, carrying a leash, came into view.

“Sarge, come
here,” the woman called.

The dog trotted
away, leaving Jemma to brush herself off. The sun was a lot lower in the sky
than she remembered it. How long had she been asleep? She felt more drained
than rested.

After checking
the ground to make sure she hadn’t dropped anything, she headed at a much
slower pace back the way she had come. It wasn’t until she spotted Chris
outside the apartment building, phone to his ear, wicker basket at his feet,
that she remembered their date. She called out to him but he didn’t hear her.

The lights took
forever to change. As soon as they did, she ran across three lanes, paused in
the median strip, waited for a gap in the traffic and made a dash for it.
“Chris, I’m so sorry,” she said, when she reached him. “I fell asleep.”

He looked her
up and down.

She held up a
hand. “Long story. I hope I haven’t ruined dinner,” she said, glancing down at
the picnic basket, a folded tartan rug lodged under the handle. “I don’t even
know what time it is. How long have you been waiting?”

“I haven’t
ordered the food yet. The basket just contains drinks, insect repellent and the
like. The time,” he said, twisting his wrist, “is 19:11.”

She pulled her
keys from her pocket. How fast could she shower and change? She might have
begged off if it weren’t for the expectant expression on his face. “Can you
give me a few minutes, ten tops?”

He plucked a
dry leaf from her hair. “No problem. I have a couple of calls I need to make
anyway. I’ll meet you across the road in ten.”

Once inside the
apartment, she raced for the shower, shedding clothes as she went. The water
barely hit her before she was out again. She threw on a linen shirt, denim
capris and flat sandals, making it out the door with a minute to spare.

In the lift on
her way down to the street, she checked her phone for missed calls and
messages. Ethan hadn’t called, but she was past caring. Almost.

She found Chris
seated on a bench just inside the park. On her approach, he stood, closing his
phone. “Dinner’s on it way.”

He led her
toward a pond, spreading the tartan rug he had brought with him in a small
grassed area in the lee between two trees. Not far away, another couple taking
advantage of the balmy evening, stood hand-in-hand watching the ducks.

“Not too noisy,
is it?” Chris asked, motioning for her to sit.

She shook her
head. Though not far from the street, the trees muffled the sound of the
traffic, creating a background of white noise.

Kneeling on the
rug, he delved into the basket. Out came two wineglasses, followed by a bottle
of wine encased in bubble wrap of some sort.

“Chris—”

His phone
beeped. “Hold that thought,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ll be right
back.”

He disappeared
through the trees, returning a couple of minutes later with a stack of white
cardboard boxes.

“Exactly how
many people do you intend feeding?” she asked, as he laid out the boxes between
them on the rug. “Fancy fish and chips,” she added, when he lifted the lids to
reveal prawns, calamari, scallops, and fresh lemon wedges.