by JD Nixon
“Thank you for being there for me, Heller,” I said and squeezed his hand, smiling again. And that was enough for him, I could see. He relaxed and regained his confidence in my affection for him.
At home I rang Will, apologising for my harsh words. He was so glad to hear from me that my heart twisted a little at how cruel I’d been to him.
“God, I’m sorry, Tilly. I seem to say the wrong thing to you all the time. When can I see you again?”
“Soon I hope, baby. I can’t wait to see you again.” And that made him happy.
And then I rang Brian to thank him and Jed for working so hard on Meili’s case. He told me that they knew the identity of the suspect, confirmed by the photos, DNA and fingerprints, and were trying to run him to ground.
Life started getting back to normal. The next day, back at work, Heller took me with him on his round of check-ups on major jobs. I met a few more of our important clients and was impressed with their hard-nosed commercial attitudes, tempered with a dash of dry humour. Heller maintained a professional manner at all times, but I felt free to banter, joke and yes, even flirt a little with the male clients. They didn’t seem to mind at all, and in fact one of them even promised to contact Sid later to discuss further surveillance services for a new location he was opening in a month’s time. Heller raised his eyebrows at me when we left, and I smiled modestly, hoping that my flatteringly open admiration of the client’s boxing prowess as a youth, evidence of which he proudly displayed on his walls in photos and trophies, had helped in that decision.
The only time I saw Heller relax his manner was during a meeting with one of our very few female business clients – a tough, no-nonsense type, with short gray hair, a gruff way of speaking and eagle eyes that dared you to try to pull one over on her. I certainly wouldn’t have tried.
She looked me up and down and instantly dismissed me as a lightweight, spending the entire meeting directing her comments to Heller. She responded favourably to the subtle charm and faint suggestiveness he exuded, although I would have sworn that she was not a person normally given to subtleties. There was nothing obvious about Heller’s behaviour and I had trouble later even trying to remember precise examples of what he’d said or the looks he’d given her. It was more an impression of restrained magnetism that he appeared to be able to switch on and off at will. I was impressed and told him so, attempting clumsily to explain myself to him afterwards as we walked back to his car.
“I don’t know what you mean, Matilda,” he professed, but gave that wicked half-smile that I loved so much.
“Sure you don’t,” I said, unconvinced. “But how can anyone know which is the real you?”
“Does it matter?” he shrugged, unconcerned.
“It does to me,” I insisted.
“Perhaps you think too much about matters that have no answer, my sweet,” he suggested with an enigmatic smile.
“And perhaps you’re just a deliberately mysterious git?” I suggested back at him tartly.
His smile widened. “And perhaps you’re too much of an open book.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be offended by his comment or not. It was true that I did find it almost impossible to hide my feelings, but as a former actor, I’d some experience in subterfuge. All actors pretend to be what they’re not. But maybe I wasn’t very good at it, which was why my acting career had gone nowhere. Maybe I should try to be more enigmatic myself?
“Perhaps,” I replied, trying out my own secretive half-smile.
“Are you okay, Matilda?” he asked, staring at me with sudden concern. “Is your leg hurting you? You look as though you’re in pain, grimacing like that.”
I gave up and climbed into his Mercedes. We were not far from my parents’ house, and I thoughtlessly asked him if he would mind dropping by for a little while. I hadn’t seen my parents since I left the hospital after the car crash and wanted to check in with them, guiltily remembering all of their many phone and email messages since then.
He agreed willingly and afterwards I realised that was my first mistake.
My second mistake was not to ask Heller to wait in the car for me. I hadn’t planned on staying very long, and he could have easily listened to the radio or made phone calls for the ten minutes I needed.
My third mistake was going anywhere near my parents’ house with Heller in the first place.
But of course I acknowledged all of that in retrospect. At the time I didn’t think about any of it and blithely walked to the front door, Heller following behind me. I didn’t even question his apparent keenness to visit my parents with me, when normally he would have protested strongly. I knocked on the door jauntily and suffered much motherly attention and fussing when Mum answered. Heller received an equal amount, my mother being particularly fond of him and his good looks and muscles, and we were ushered into the lounge room and plied with tea and biscuits.
My parents were both retired, and so my father was also at home, and the four of us sat and chatted. Well, three of us did anyway, Heller choosing to be mysteriously quiet again, despite Mum’s best efforts to engage him in detailed conversation.
We began making our polite farewells when Brian lumbered unexpectedly into the room. He wore a tattered t-shirt and boxers, his hair sticking out at unusual angles and was obviously freshly woken from sleep. He stretched and yawned, but stopped in his tracks as soon as he spotted Heller, his senses kicking into full alert immediately.
Crap! I sprang up off the sofa, grabbed Heller by the arm, pulling him to his feet and urging him to the front door. He shook off my hand and stayed in his place, staring at Brian, a truly malevolent little smile playing on his shapely lips.
“Hello Brian,” he said in a friendly voice, unusually sociable, as if they were best friends. “I didn’t know you were living back at home. Problems with the wife?”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brian spat out, his face changing to an unhealthy crimson colour with rage. “Get out of my house now, you motherfucking prick!”
“Brian!” my mother screeched in shock. “I won’t have such language in my house!”
Brian ignored her, turning to me. “How dare you bring this fucker into my house, you dumb bitch.”
“Brian!” remonstrated my father angrily. “I will not tolerate you talking to your sister like that!”
Brian ignored him.
“Heller, let’s go! Now! Please,” I begged, pulling frantically on his arm. He shook me off again without even acknowledging me, his attention intently focused on Brian.
“How is your wife anyway?” Heller asked pleasantly. “Be sure to give her my regards when you see her next.”
The room erupted into bedlam. Brian furiously launched himself onto Heller, his fists flying wildly. Heller blocked him and started throwing punches in return. And it quickly intensified into an all-out serious fight, the sickening thud of landing fists the only sound in the room.
It was an even match for a while. As a cop, Brian had been well trained in self-defence and until recently, had kept himself in good condition, his skills honed. Heller though had the advantage in height and bulk.
With rising hysteria, my mother screamed at them to stop, tears streaming down her face. My father’s face paled disturbingly as he watched the affray. Sick to my stomach, I dodged the flying bodies and herded them into a corner, where they would be safe from being accidently hurt by the angry men.
Heller and Brian had no care for the room as they slugged it out. Mum’s prized display dishes crashed to the floor as Brian forced Heller backwards into the china cabinet. The TV was knocked off its stand, a side table overturned, its lamp smashing into pieces, a curtain pulled from its rods, and one of the lounge chairs splintering as Brian fell heavily into it, propelled by Heller’s fists.
Blood flowed freely on both men, splattering around the room as they circled each other. Eventually though, it was obvious that Heller was gaining the advantage. Brian was tiring and he was hitting out more wild
ly, where Heller was connecting each time. By the end, Heller had Brian by the scruff of his t-shirt and was pummelling him mercilessly, Brian’s head lolling back, his legs collapsing under him.
Heller’s face showed nothing but a grim determination and focus, almost as if he was mesmerised by the violence. He wasn’t going to stop. Both Dad and I rushed forward to beg him to let Brian go. I pushed Dad back into the corner and I foolishly ran right between the two men, pushing Heller backwards as hard as I could, trying to get him to release Brian.
“Stop it!” I screamed at him. “You’re going to kill him!”
Heller’s arm, which he had already raised, continued its downward trajectory towards Brian again. It was as though he was in a trance, his movements automatic. But the problem was that I was now between them and instead of hitting Brian, his fist connected with the side of my face, knocking me sideways, flat on my back.
Chapter 26
“Ooh,” I moaned, rolling on the floor, holding my face. The pain was intense. It felt as if he’d broken my cheekbone. Blood poured from my nose. Awaking from his daze and horrified at what he had done, Heller threw Brian to one side and dropped to his knees, leaning over me. Brian fell heavily to the floor, his body limp.
“Matilda! I’m so sorry. What were you doing stepping between us like that?” He gently felt my face for any broken bones.
“Get away from me, you crazy bastard!” I cried, pushing him away violently. “You were going to kill my brother.”
I crawled over to where Brian was lying, blood covering his face, his eyes flickering open and shut. Dad and I helped him to sit up and propped him against the lounge, so he wouldn’t choke on any blood or vomit.
Mum verged on the point of fainting with hysterics, but I directed her to fetch clean wet face cloths and icepacks to start dealing with the aftermath. Having something to do helped her focus and overcome her agitation. Heller sat on an armchair, his face and fists bruised and bloodied, watching me silently.
Dad and I tended to Brian while Mum tended to Heller, despite his protests. Brian refused to let us call an ambulance for him. I didn’t even bother asking Heller, knowing that he would never agree. I was in considerable pain, but clearly mine was the least need in the room, and I waved away all offers of assistance until the other two had been satisfactorily patched up.
Mum made a desultory attempt to clean up the debris of her formerly pristine lounge room, tears pouring helplessly down her face. Heller took out his phone and rang Daniel to ask him to send a cleaning team to the house as soon as possible. He apologised to my parents for the disturbance, and promised to pay for all the costs in replacing furniture and fittings. I thought it was the least he could do.
“That’s not necessary,” said Dad gruffly. “Brian started it. We all saw that he attacked you first, though heaven only knows why. It seems so senseless to me.” But Heller insisted.
When I looked at Dad, I noticed that he was very pale and clammy. I held his arm and sat him down on the lounge until his colour was slightly better. He sat obediently for a while, but stood up, turning to me with a strange expression on his face.
“Tilly, I don’t feel well,” he said and collapsed into a heap on the floor. Heller pushed me out of the way and quickly checked his pulse and irises, before commencing CPR. I ran to the phone and called Emergency, urgently requesting an ambulance, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I comforted my weeping mother while we watched Heller working on Dad and waited for the ambulance to arrive.
It seemed like forever until we heard the welcome siren and my father was whisked into medical care. Mum and Brian accompanied him in the ambulance while Heller drove me to the hospital in his car.
“Matilda –” he started to speak.
I shook my head. “Not now. I just can’t cope with anything else at the moment.” I cradled my aching face, tissue held to my bleeding nostril, and we drove in silence for the rest of the way.
At the hospital we waited all night for news. Brian sat at one end of the waiting room, Heller at the other. I sat with Mum, in the middle. She jumped up constantly, flitting between everyone, alternately crying and attempting to force some more of the disgusting vending machine coffee and sandwiches on us all. None of us felt like eating. My face was too sore to even contemplate the act, and I could only imagine the pain that both Brian and Heller were in. I was numb, staring down at the ground, only too aware that Heller’s intense eyes were focussed on me the entire time. But I couldn’t look at him.
We probably drew curious glances from staff and other visitors alike, but I don’t remember taking much of that in. My head was empty of any real conscious thought except one. Let Dad live, please let Dad live. My other brother, Sean, turned up without his wife Elise who was at work, and he sat near Brian, regarding us all with great interest.
Gayle arrived in a flurry not long afterwards and to my disgust, I could see her eyes light up as she took in the two injured men. She immediately jumped to the conclusion that they’d had a fight over her. She was just the type of woman who would find two men almost beating each other to death as a romantic gesture and something to be cherished, rather than the abhorrent act of brutality it really was. I threw her a sour look, and in return she smiled at me in a sweet, but catty, way as if she was the victor in some imaginary competition between us.
She sat next to Brian and fussed over his injuries, showing cloying, and almost verging on inappropriate, affection towards him. I think she would have screwed him right there and then if they hadn’t been in public. He lapped it up though, perhaps thinking that he’d proven himself a man to her by fighting with Heller. And after a couple of hours, it was obvious to everyone that there would be a rapprochement between them in the near future. I only hoped Brian made her beg for it like the bitch she was.
Just as the dawn sunlight weakly streamed through the windows of the waiting room, a doctor emerged to tell us that Dad had been given the all-clear, but that he would need to be careful in the future and avoid any unnecessary shocks. Her gaze travelled slowly and inquisitively over our bruised faces as she spoke. Nobody bothered to explain, but she was probably thinking that we looked like a family in which Dad would be exposed to unnecessary shocks every day of his life.
Mum, Brian, Sean and I were allowed in to visit him and I was shocked at how gray he appeared. But he was breathing steadily and all his vital signs were satisfactory. There was nothing we could do for him and the doctor advised that he needed to rest but would be released later in the day. Sean left separately. Gayle said she’d drive Mum and Brian home in her car. I hugged Mum tightly.
“I simply don’t understand what happened today, Tilly,” she confessed. “Why would Brian attack Mr Heller like that? And the language! I hope Mr Heller doesn’t think we are all insane. I just don’t understand.”
Maybe one day Brian would tell her, but I certainly wasn’t going to. We waved them off and Gayle, her arm solicitously around Brian’s waist, gave Heller a surreptitious wink on the way out. He didn’t even notice, but I did and glared at her so ferociously that she averted her eyes and scurried out without glancing back. We returned wearily to Heller’s vehicle.
“When do you want to talk about this?” he asked me.
“Never. I want to forget the whole thing ever happened,” I replied with a sigh, closing my eyes.
“I’m sorry I hit you, Matilda.”
“I shouldn’t have stepped in between the two of you. But you were going to kill him. I could see it in your face. You really frighten me sometimes, Heller.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Would you have stopped if I hadn’t interrupted you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it over now between you and him?”
“As far as I’m concerned it is.”
“You wanted to fight him, didn’t you? You provoked him on purpose.”
“Yes.”
And I knew then that there was nothing more to say on the matter.
&n
bsp; Our appearance caused a stir back at the Warehouse. Well, maybe not mine so much because I was covered in bruises every second week, but I gathered from the small commotion that erupted at the sight of him, that Heller wasn’t often seen in such a beaten-up state.
“Geez, Boss!” exclaimed one of his men. “What does the other bloke look like?”
“Worse,” was all he would say, striding up to my flat with me. I tried to shut the door in his face, but he pushed his foot in the gap, and it didn’t take much muscle from him to push it open. I gave up and let him come in.
“I want to make sure you’re okay,” he insisted, gently feeling my face again. I stayed still and let his long, slender fingers probe my facial bones, staring at him accusingly and biting my tongue mightily to stop myself from complaining about the pain he was causing. “Nothing’s broken, but you’re going to be sore. And then there’ll be the bruising too. Hope you weren’t planning on any more media appearances for a while.”
I stared at him some more, not amused.
“Matilda, don’t look at me like that, please. I’m sorry. It was an accident.”
I pulled an icepack from the freezer and flopped down on my lounge, placing it on my face and closing my eyes. He took the hint and left.
Heller was on the receiving end of a lot of stick from his men when they discovered that he was responsible for my latest bout of facial bruising. He endured the jibes with silent patience and didn’t try to deny it or to explain or excuse himself, or to blame me for getting in the way. On the other hand, I bragged to everybody that I was responsible for his injuries and that I’d give him even worse next time if he ever dared to raise his hand to me again, which drew a reluctant smile from him. I found his eyes on me frequently after that day, regarding me with grave regret and sincere remorse.
