by Louise Guy
He accepted it gratefully, chugged it down and then stood. ‘Now, you look after yourself, Phyllie. I’ll pop back in on Monday and check the wound for you, but if it starts bleeding, oozing pus or smelling, you call me straightaway. It means it’s infected and we’ll need to organise antibiotics for you. I’ve left you fresh dressings, so make sure you change them at least once a day. This one will be alright until the morning.’
Phyllie saluted him. ‘Yes, sir.’
Damien grinned as he handed Nat the empty glass. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow night. You’ve got the address?’
Nat nodded.
‘Be prepared to lose all your money,’ Phyllie called after Damien as he made his way towards the front door. ‘Nat will be ready for Vegas by the time we’re finished this afternoon.’
‘Looking forward to it.’ Damien headed out of the door and along the shrub-lined path to where the ambulance was parked at the start of the driveway.
Phyllie let out a laugh before turning to Nat. ‘Now, why don’t you go and get the cards, the wine and the platter of food that’s in the fridge, and we’ll get on with the real reason you came over today. All this interruption from goats and Damien has thrown us way off schedule. Poker first, then we’ll look at the room. I was thinking that it would suit me if you moved in on Thursday. That will give us both a few more days to enjoy our freedom.’
Nat nodded. It would give her a few days to organise her belongings, not that she had much to move, and give more thought to her job situation.
As Phyllie explained the tips and tricks that would ensure Nat had an advantage over most Texas Hold ’Em players, the two women enjoyed the Prosecco, and the cheese and antipasto Phyllie had prepared. The conversation soon turned to Nat’s unemployed status.
‘Have you had any thoughts about where you’d like to work next, love?’
Nat sighed. ‘I don’t have the energy to even look. I’m pretty sure most employers will look at my résumé and throw it back at me. Five jobs in two years doesn’t thrill prospective bosses, especially when I was fired from all of them.’
‘Put me down as a reference,’ Phyllie said. ‘I won’t say anything negative at all.’
Nat laughed. She could imagine her grandmother singing her praises to a potential employer. ‘Thanks, but I’ll sort it out myself. I can continue my volunteer work at Shared while I’m looking. It keeps me busy and at least I’m valued there.’
Phyllie picked the cards up and dealt them each two cards face down, ready for their preflop betting. ‘You have a good heart, Nathalia. You remember that. It’s much more important than competing for promotions or pats on the back. Stay true to who you are and don’t worry about other people. Good things will come to you if you’re patient, you mark my words.’
A round table with a green felt Texas Hold ’Em mat covering it, poker chips and dim lighting cleverly transformed Damien’s workmate’s family room to provide the atmosphere of a real casino. Phyllie’s words from the previous day replayed in Nat’s head as excitement flittered in her stomach. Was this what her grandmother had meant by good things will come to you if you’re patient? She couldn’t believe the pile of winnings in front of her, which was growing with nearly every hand. Nat turned over her hole cards to reveal an ace and a jack. When added to the five cards already drawn, she had a straight. A collective groan went up around the table, while excitement caught in Nat’s throat. She’d won, again!
‘Why’d you invite her?’ Stu threw his cards down in mock disgust.
Damien laughed. ‘I’ll be asking for commission at this rate. I should have stuck around at Phyllie’s yesterday if her teachings have led to this.’
‘Beginner’s luck,’ Nat said. ‘I’m not doing anything special, just getting lucky draws with the cards.’
‘Let’s take a break,’ Pam suggested. ‘Refresh the drinks and taste test those amazing-looking sausage rolls you brought with you, Damien.’
‘Hannah’s sausage rolls?’ Nat’s eyes lit up. The one area she was quite happy her sister excelled at was cooking. She wasn’t a bad cook herself, but Hannah’s baking was to die for. The pastry on her sausage rolls melted in your mouth.
The group moved from the dimly lit family room out to the back veranda. It was a chilly night, but Matt had the outdoor heaters going and the area was very cosy.
Nat sipped a glass of mineral water. She wanted to keep a clear head to remember everything Phyllie had instructed her on the previous day.
‘Hear you had a run-in with a goat yesterday,’ Pam said.
Nat shook her head. ‘Not me, my grandmother. I’m still not exactly sure how the neighbour gets away with keeping a goat in his back garden, but my grandmother doesn’t want to report him. I hope she doesn’t get knocked over by it and badly hurt next time.’
‘Did you speak to the neighbour?’
Nat shook her head. ‘I went over and banged on his door, but he wasn’t home. He probably won’t be very appreciative of the note I left him.’ Nat had stuck a sheet of paper to Leon’s front door that simply said, ‘Stop your bloody goat from escaping, or the council will be called.’ She knew Phyllie didn’t want her threatening him with the council, but as she hadn’t signed it, Leon would never know who’d written it.
‘So, this grandma of yours is a poker expert?’ Matt joined the conversation.
Nat laughed. ‘I don’t know about that, but some of her tips are certainly helping tonight. Although I’ve been lucky with the cards I’ve been dealt.’
‘I don’t know,’ Matt said. ‘There’s the cards, of course, but there’s a lot of skill and strategy involved too. I think you’re underplaying how good you are.’
Nat’s cheeks burned with a combination of embarrassment and delight. Matt’s words were like a validation. Maybe she was actually good at something. Part of her wished Hannah was here to hear him. To know she wasn’t a complete loser.
‘While I’m scared that Matt’s words are probably true,’ Pam said, ‘we’re hoping you’re right about beginner’s luck. Taking a break might stop your winning streak and we’ll get our money back from you.’
‘It’s nice to see someone other than Matt winning for a change,’ Damien said.
Matt laughed. ‘Might be part of my strategy. Don’t worry, I have weapons of my own I haven’t even brought out yet.’
Damien raised his eyebrows. ‘That sounds like desperation talking.’
Matt clapped him on the back. ‘You won’t be saying that in a couple of hours when I have all of Nat’s money and yours too.’
Nat laughed, enjoying the friendly ribbing. It was such a contrast to being around the staff at Benedict’s. Todd had done his best to make her feel inferior in her position, and even though her focus was always on her clients and their well-being, it was hard not to be affected by it. She’d felt like an outsider among the cliquey staff, reminding her of her teenage years, of not fitting in at school and of feeling inferior as she watched Hannah excel at everything academic. She tried to explain to her father, when he suggested tutoring, that it wasn’t that she didn’t understand the subject matter, she just didn’t have time to study it. She was too busy reading up on community interests and, as she got older, attending protests and fighting for causes she believed in.
It wasn’t until the final year of high school when she met Pip that she found an ally, someone who thought as passionately about causes as she did. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, she was surrounded by a nice group of people who wanted no more than to have a fun night and treated her with the same kindness and friendliness as they treated each other. On top of that, she’d won close to a thousand dollars. Enough to get her through the next couple of weeks while she tried to find another job. She just needed to make sure she didn’t fall prey to Matt’s strategy and lose it all.
She didn’t.
Not only had Nat retained the initial thousand she’d won, but she’d more than doubled it. As she wound her way through the quiet str
eets of Donvale, she couldn’t believe she’d walked away with twenty-six hundred dollars. When Damien had invited her to join his friendly poker game, she hadn’t realised that the stakes would rise as high as they had. She wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline of winning a few hands or the buzz of being among such lovely people, but Nat had felt confident with each bet she made. When she won five hands in a row, she’d considered stopping. But a little encouragement from Matt to continue was all she needed. ‘Come on,’ he’d said. ‘You can’t take that much from me and then stop. You’ve got to give me a chance to win it back.’ He’d be regretting that encouragement now. She’d cleaned him out.
He’d just laughed and shrugged it off when at the end of the night she’d offered to reimburse him. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s only once a month, and I normally win.’ He’d waved his hand in the direction of the others. ‘It’s this lot that usually walks out with tears streaming down their faces. I’ll survive.’
Her chest had expanded with pride as he’d once again told her that she was a natural, that she had a skill she shouldn’t ignore. ‘You could win a lot on the online tables.’ He’d written down the names of two of the poker sites he played regularly and handed them to her. ‘Ring me if you need a hand on how to set up accounts, or ask Damo – he does pretty well too.’
That last comment had piqued her interest. Damien played online poker? It was the first she’d heard of this.
‘Do they always play for that much?’ Nat asked Damien as they made their way home. Hannah and Amy had dropped him at Matt’s earlier in the evening so he could have a few drinks, and she’d offered to drive him home.
‘Not usually.’ He grinned. ‘I think he smelled fresh blood and thought you’d be a walkover.’
‘He gave me some info about online poker and suggested I try it out. Said that you played it too.’
‘Don’t tell Hannah.’
Nat laughed before turning to Damien and realising he was serious. Her smile faded. ‘She doesn’t know?’
He shook his head. ‘She knows I play cards and other games online, but she doesn’t know I bet money. You know what she’s like, she’d have every gambling statistic known to man charted and stuck to the wall. I don’t play for much and my account is actually in credit, so I’m not losing money. It’s just a bit of fun and something I do to unwind.’
Nat kept her attention on the road ahead, letting Damien’s words sink in. She knew Hannah was a pain when it came to just about everything, but she also knew her well enough to know she’d be devastated if she found out her husband was keeping a secret from her. It surprised her to feel a jolt of loyalty towards her sister.
‘I think you should tell her. If you haven’t lost anything then it isn’t a big deal. But if you did start to lose a lot then it’s probably good someone else knows about it and can help you put the brakes on it.’
Damien laughed.
‘What?’
‘You’re the last person I’d ever expect to stand up for Hannah. Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely to see. Just very unexpected.’ He sighed. ‘But yes, you’re right. I probably should tell her. I’d hate it if she had secrets from me. And I take it you’re going to tell her if I don’t?’
Nat didn’t respond immediately. Would she tell Hannah? She felt like she’d have to. Lying, in her opinion, was a kind of cheating, and whether he’d won or lost money, that was in effect what Damien was doing.
‘Don’t answer,’ he said. ‘If nothing else, I’m glad to see you care about your sister enough to be worried. I’ll tell her tonight if she’s still awake, or tomorrow morning.’
Nat turned to him. ‘Really?’
He crossed his arms, a smile playing on his lips. ‘I think after your success tonight, you should be shouting us breakfast tomorrow. Come over in the morning with some bakery treats under the guise of being a grateful sister-in-law and you can grill Hannah then.’ He laughed. ‘Although she might have already filed for divorce once she hits the roof about my non-existent gambling problem.’
Chapter Seven
Hannah’s mind ticked over as she wiped down the kitchen benches. She was desperately trying to find a solution to the Zane Fox situation that didn’t include paying him more money, and didn’t include telling Damien the truth. So far she’d come up with nothing. How had she got herself into this? She’d done her best to convince herself at the time that what she’d done was in everyone’s best interest. Damien would be devastated if he learned the truth about his biological parents, and Trish, his adoptive mother, had been under extreme stress with her cancer treatment. She’d confided in Hannah early on in her relationship with Damien that her main fear with adoption was that one day she wouldn’t be enough for her son. That he’d decide he wanted a real mother, which would confirm for her that he’d never thought she was.
Now Damien’s biological mother wanted to make contact. Why after all these years? He was forty, that was a long time to stay away. She couldn’t imagine giving up her baby at birth, no matter what the circumstances. Although she certainly sympathised with Janine. She’d had Amy when she was twenty-four and married, which was a big difference to being a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl and rape victim.
Hannah wondered what Janine was like. She rinsed the cloth under the tap and suddenly dropped it in the sink. She knew her name and the town she lived in. Why hadn’t she thought to google her after Zane dropped his bombshell?
She hurried upstairs, poking her head into Amy’s room on her way to the bedroom they’d converted into a home office. Amy was sprawled on her bed reading a book. ‘You need to get your homework done before we go to Mia’s party later this morning.’
Amy groaned. ‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes, now! Or you can forget about the party. Go downstairs and get your books from your bag. You can do it in the living room or at the kitchen table, if you prefer.’
Amy rolled off the bed, dropping the book on her bedside table. She scowled at Hannah on her way past. ‘You don’t have to be so mean about it.’
Hannah swallowed. Her tone had been sharp. In fact, her tolerance for anything right now was non-existent. She needed to be more aware of how she acted. It was hardly fair to take her stress out on her daughter, or anyone else.
She continued on to the office, sat down at the desk and keyed in her password, waiting as her computer sprang to life. How would she explain what she was doing if Damien walked in? She hesitated before typing in Janine’s name and hometown in the search bar. She looked up people all the time for work, and if he did come into the bedroom, he wouldn’t be interested in the specifics of what she was doing. He was out in the garden fixing some loose wooden slats on the decking, so was unlikely to come into the house at all, let alone upstairs to her office.
The search results came up, and Hannah swallowed. Janine Markinson, Rape. Teenage victim of rape pregnant. Rape Baby Given Up for Adoption. There were a number of other more recent results. Teacher Awarded Victorian Education Excellence Award. Tallangetti Primary Honours VEEA Recipient. She clicked on a recent article and drew in a breath when the smiling face of Janine Markinson filled the screen. The similarity between her and Damien was unmissable. Her thick black hair curtained her face; her smile was full of warmth and humour. She’d been awarded the Excellence Award for her service both within the school and the community. From what she read, Janine Markinson was a much-loved teacher and a highly valued member of the Tallangetti community. Tears filled Hannah’s eyes. This was Damien’s mother. When, twelve years earlier, she’d decided to lie to him about his biological parents, the image she’d conjured up of his mother had been very different. She’d imagined a hard, bitter woman with an ever-present cigarette between her lips who spoke in a raspy voice. She had no idea why she’d pictured her this way, other than it helped ease her conscience over lying to Damien. The woman looking back at her from the screen was nothing like that. She was the type of woman you’d want to know, that you’d be proud to call your mother
. She was precisely the type of woman that Trish had been worried would replace her.
Hannah hesitated before opening a website containing articles that dated back over forty years. It appeared that ten years ago someone had done a study of teenage rape victims and loaded the old newspaper articles as part of their report. There was a blurred photo of Janine as a teenage girl. An older man had his arm around her and looked like he was shielding her. She looked young and frightened. Reading the article, she realised it was a picture of Janine leaving the court where Calvin Deeks had been sentenced for rape.
Hannah clicked on the other articles, but there were no photos of Calvin Deeks. There was one more of Janine, in her school uniform and smiling for the camera. Hannah assumed it had been taken before the rape and supplied to the paper. The Rape Baby article was text only, just giving the details of the baby’s birth.
A healthy baby boy weighing 7lb 8 ounces was birthed by Janine Markinson this morning at 8.21am. The baby has already been placed with the authorities where adoption has been arranged.
Hannah leaned back in her chair. What a mess. Seeing Janine made her wonder whether she had done the right thing. Had protecting Damien from the truth meant he’d missed out on the opportunity to get to know his mother? She shook herself. She was being silly. No, it hadn’t. If she hadn’t hired Zane, she would never have found out any of this. The adoption authorities would not provide any information as Janine had requested that her file be sealed and no details released. Due to the nature of how she had become pregnant, her request for privacy had been granted. What Hannah hadn’t counted on was Janine changing her mind and wanting to make contact with Damien.
When Zane had uncovered the truth about Damien’s biological parents and seen Hannah’s distress at the thought of telling her husband, he’d agreed to help her cover up the facts, for an additional fee. He’d come across a story around the time of Damien’s birth that Hannah might want to present to him as his own story. A young couple and their newborn baby had been involved in a horrific car accident on their return from the hospital. The baby was only two days old. Although the baby had survived, both parents died at the scene, and with no other living relatives, the baby had been placed in foster care awaiting adoption. The article did not name any of the people involved but it happened in Albosta, a large town not far from Tallangetti, and it was the hospital in which Damien had been born. While of course he would be devastated to learn this about his biological parents, Hannah had reasoned that Damien would move on with life and have closure. If he’d discovered the truth, she’d thought he’d never recover and would struggle to come to terms with his gene pool.
