excused
herself.
Minutes later,
she returned carrying two mugs of steaming hot tea, the one she placed in front
of Narelle loaded with sugar.
Narelle’s teeth
had stopped chattering, but the tremor in her hands was still evident. She
paused for a moment, cradling the mug in both hands before slowly lifting it to
her mouth. As she sipped the hot, sweet liquid, her eyes stayed downcast.
Drinking her own
tea, Jacinta bided her time, resisting the urge to ask what had happened. Don’t
pressure her , she told herself. She’ll tell you in her own time .
Peering over the rim of her cup, she studied Narelle. She had been crying. That
much was obvious. From the little skin that was visible, there was no evidence
of bruising. No black eyes. No split lip. Craig hadn’t beaten her up, then. Or
at least not so it would show.
Narelle lifted
her eyes, a small, apologetic, almost sheepish smile forming on her lips as she
met Jacinta’s watchful gaze. She set the mug of tea down. Her hands retreated
under the blanket, leaving only her head exposed.
“Are we alone?”
Bemused by the
odd question, Jacinta merely nodded.
“I mean, Brett’s
not asleep in the other room or anything like that, is he? I mean… Oh God, I
shouldn’t be bothering you like this.” Narelle’s pale hands emerged from the
blanket as she started to rise from the sofa.
Jacinta patted
the air. “Don’t go. Please stay. Honestly, it’s no bother at all. Brett’s at
work. We have the house to ourselves.” She didn’t add that until the previous
night, she had been alone in the house for the last week.
Narelle
hesitated slightly before sinking back down onto the sofa. The blanket that had
slipped from her shoulders bunched behind her. She gulped air, evidently on the
verge of tears. Her long fingernails tore at the backs of her hands, turning
them into angry red welts.
“These last few
days,” she blurted, “I’ve felt like a prisoner in my own home. I don’t know
what’s got into Craig. He’s become so paranoid. He’s convinced everyone is out
to get him.” Pausing only long enough to take a breath, she continued her
rapid-fire of words. “Jacinta, I so enjoyed the dinner party. I’d forgotten
what it was like to socialise. But Craig… I don’t know, Craig thinks we should
keep to ourselves. After everything that’s happened, he doesn’t trust anyone. I
understand that, I really do, but we have to get on with the rest of our lives.
Let go of the ghosts of the past…” Her voice petered out, her gaze dropping to
her restless hands.
Jacinta
uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in her seat. Her problems had suddenly
paled into insignificance. She couldn’t imagine living Narelle’s life: a
reclusive and unsocial life devoid of any human relationships except that of
her husband. Could love for a man make a woman blind?
Narelle added in
a soft whisper, “Craig insinuated that you had an ulterior motive for inviting
us to dinner.”
Jacinta
swallowed hard, a hot flush enveloping her face.
Narelle’s gaze
remained fixed downwards. “It’s all right; I know you’re a reporter. Brett
probably doesn’t remember, but ages ago, I asked him what you did for a living.
When you invited us to dinner, I didn’t think it mattered. We all have a job to
do.”
Jacinta’s pulse
quickened, her mind racing. Narelle had known she was a journalist, yet she had
chosen to accept the dinner invitation. Brave, or just desperately lonely?
“That doesn’t mean
to say that I came to dinner unprepared. Over the years, I’ve learned the hard
way how to circumvent the probing questions. I was pleasantly surprised when
you didn’t pry. I left here so full of hope that the past was finally behind
us.” She took a deep breath. “That is until things started happening. Then I
didn’t know what to think.”
Jacinta opened
her mouth, hoping that by magic the right words would spring forth.
Narelle
continued, her voice remarkably calm. “All these
herself.
Minutes later,
she returned carrying two mugs of steaming hot tea, the one she placed in front
of Narelle loaded with sugar.
Narelle’s teeth
had stopped chattering, but the tremor in her hands was still evident. She
paused for a moment, cradling the mug in both hands before slowly lifting it to
her mouth. As she sipped the hot, sweet liquid, her eyes stayed downcast.
Drinking her own
tea, Jacinta bided her time, resisting the urge to ask what had happened. Don’t
pressure her , she told herself. She’ll tell you in her own time .
Peering over the rim of her cup, she studied Narelle. She had been crying. That
much was obvious. From the little skin that was visible, there was no evidence
of bruising. No black eyes. No split lip. Craig hadn’t beaten her up, then. Or
at least not so it would show.
Narelle lifted
her eyes, a small, apologetic, almost sheepish smile forming on her lips as she
met Jacinta’s watchful gaze. She set the mug of tea down. Her hands retreated
under the blanket, leaving only her head exposed.
“Are we alone?”
Bemused by the
odd question, Jacinta merely nodded.
“I mean, Brett’s
not asleep in the other room or anything like that, is he? I mean… Oh God, I
shouldn’t be bothering you like this.” Narelle’s pale hands emerged from the
blanket as she started to rise from the sofa.
Jacinta patted
the air. “Don’t go. Please stay. Honestly, it’s no bother at all. Brett’s at
work. We have the house to ourselves.” She didn’t add that until the previous
night, she had been alone in the house for the last week.
Narelle
hesitated slightly before sinking back down onto the sofa. The blanket that had
slipped from her shoulders bunched behind her. She gulped air, evidently on the
verge of tears. Her long fingernails tore at the backs of her hands, turning
them into angry red welts.
“These last few
days,” she blurted, “I’ve felt like a prisoner in my own home. I don’t know
what’s got into Craig. He’s become so paranoid. He’s convinced everyone is out
to get him.” Pausing only long enough to take a breath, she continued her
rapid-fire of words. “Jacinta, I so enjoyed the dinner party. I’d forgotten
what it was like to socialise. But Craig… I don’t know, Craig thinks we should
keep to ourselves. After everything that’s happened, he doesn’t trust anyone. I
understand that, I really do, but we have to get on with the rest of our lives.
Let go of the ghosts of the past…” Her voice petered out, her gaze dropping to
her restless hands.
Jacinta
uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in her seat. Her problems had suddenly
paled into insignificance. She couldn’t imagine living Narelle’s life: a
reclusive and unsocial life devoid of any human relationships except that of
her husband. Could love for a man make a woman blind?
Narelle added in
a soft whisper, “Craig insinuated that you had an ulterior motive for inviting
us to dinner.”
Jacinta
swallowed hard, a hot flush enveloping her face.
Narelle’s gaze
remained fixed downwards. “It’s all right; I know you’re a reporter. Brett
probably doesn’t remember, but ages ago, I asked him what you did for a living.
When you invited us to dinner, I didn’t think it mattered. We all have a job to
do.”
Jacinta’s pulse
quickened, her mind racing. Narelle had known she was a journalist, yet she had
chosen to accept the dinner invitation. Brave, or just desperately lonely?
“That doesn’t mean
to say that I came to dinner unprepared. Over the years, I’ve learned the hard
way how to circumvent the probing questions. I was pleasantly surprised when
you didn’t pry. I left here so full of hope that the past was finally behind
us.” She took a deep breath. “That is until things started happening. Then I
didn’t know what to think.”
Jacinta opened
her mouth, hoping that by magic the right words would spring forth.
Narelle
continued, her voice remarkably calm. “All these
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