by Allie Little
“If you hear anything, call me,” I demand. “If you find out where she is …”
“We will,” Gem reassures, shooing me toward the front door. “Go make sure Bess is okay. That’s what Grace wants you to do.”
And against my better judgement, I head with Brady to help Bess.
Because Grace asked me to do this.
Because she needs me to do this.
Because without Grace …
Brady’s engine roars to life. If Bess is conscious, perhaps she’ll have answers. I need to know what’s happened. I need Grace in my arms, to feel her against me and hold her tight. And once that happens, I swear I’ll never let her go again.
As I haul the car door closed, Brady reverses from the drive. He takes off down the road, the houses either side punctuated with eucalypts at regular intervals on the grassy verge. But the moment is surreal; dreamlike. Hazy and translucent, the light a radiant shine from the blue sky above. My eyes lose focus in the gleam, the luminosity blinding.
Focus, Riley. Concentrate.
My heart beats like a convergence of time, with me at the centre. For forty minutes I breathe, holding the air like a life force within. I need to help Bess and get back to wherever Grace is. With my phone gripped firmly I stare at the screen, waiting. She’ll text again, I’m sure of it. She’ll tell me where she is, and if she’s okay. But the knowledge she’s with him cuts deep like a gaping wound. Although held against her will, the fact she’s helping him burns at my core.
Anger rises like bile in my throat. “Drive, Brady. I need to get there. We need to get Bess, for Grace. And then we need to find Grace, Brady, because this isn’t over.”
Brady looks over from the driver’s seat. “Steady on. We’re edging closer all the time. He hasn’t hurt her. She’s getting him help.”
“But what if he has hurt her? What if she’s damaged? She won’t be the same after this.”
“He was her husband, Riley. I think she’ll be fine.”
The simplicity of his words is too heavy to contemplate. I grab at his shirt, the fury rising. “You’re minimising this? You think she wants him? You think she still cares?”
“I’m driving, mate. Calm the fuck down. You’ll run us off the road.” The car swerves a little as Brady steadies the wheel.
“Then fucking pull over!” I yell, horrified at what I’ve become. Insane and jealous and furious in one pure, blinding moment.
Brady pulls to the flank of the road, the angry buzz of traffic roaring past the car. He stops and turns to me, his eyes like fire but his words anaesthetised. “You need to calm the fuck down. We’re doing what we can. We’re doing what Grace asked you to do. If she was desperate, she’d ask you to find her. To come to her. But she didn’t. She asked you to get Bess.” His eyes hold rage at bay, exasperated with my outburst. “Now if you’d just let me get us there, we’ll find Bess and hopefully get some answers. So, can I drive?”
I nod ruefully, contrite in the moment. “Sorry, mate. I can’t even think straight.”
Brady exits the periphery of the road, speeding up to match the pace of the traffic. He takes his place in the line-up of cars and joins the queue curling into the bends of Avalon.
“I want to take her home, Brady. I want to take her to the Bay, hold her captive and never let her go.”
Brady snickers softly. “I know you do, mate. But don’t you think she’s had enough of captivity? You need to set her free. You can’t protect her, or save her. She knows her own mind, and will do her own thing. Look how she’s helping Daniel. And it’s not because she loves him, so don’t tear yourself up in knots over that. She’s doing it because she’s human. And once she cared enough to marry the guy, so of course she’d help him. You’re just going to have to live with that.”
His message floats to the surface of my thoughts, wedging itself like lead in my gut. Yes, she’d married him. Yes, she had a past that didn’t include me. Yes, that was normal. But it didn’t mean I had to like it. It was something I tried not to think about too often. For some reason, it was a blow to my heart.
Time passes quickly, and Brady pulls into Grace’s marital home. She’d never spoken much about her life here, only described her marriage as a prison, with Daniel as the warden. She’d spoken about control, jealousy, and the nastiness of his words, and how enduring those words became as hard as enduring any physical blow.
Brady pushes from the car, leaning against the open door as he studies the house. “No sign of life, but apparently she’s in there. Come on, let’s find Bess.”
I follow him to the front door, uneasy about what we might find. If Bess was drugged with Rohypnol she may be unconscious. Or worse…
Brady tries the front door which creaks slowly open. The energy inside is sombre, deathlike; dark and lacking in liveliness. It was impossible to imagine Grace ever residing here.
“Bess!” he calls as he steps inside. “Bess, are you in here?”
“We need to find a way down into the basement.”
“Thanks, Einstein.” Brady quickly scours the house, finding a door beneath the staircase. He leans down to fit through it, and once inside, straightens up. “This has to be it. Bess? Are you down there?”
A barely audible murmur emanates from the darkness, causing Brady to hasten down the stairs, me right behind him. He feels around on the wall and flicks on the light switch, flooding the room with white, blinding light.
“Bess!” I call, racing to her side. Her frailty is obvious, and lack of awareness more so. The real Bess has vanished leaving only a feeble resemblance, fragile and delicate. “We need an ambulance, Brady. She doesn’t look good and we’re way out of our depth here.”
Brady punches triple zero into his phone, requesting immediate assistance. He shares a brief story with the operator, then hangs up. “They’ll be here as soon as they can.”
“Give her some water and another blanket. Her skin feels like ice.”
The ambulance takes an eternity, and then longer to stretcher Bess from the basement outdoors where she’s lifted inside the vehicle. Barely conscious, her face pale and thin, as if her existence has become insignificant. We watch as it takes off down the street, slowly at first, tentatively, then building speed as it rounds the corner from view.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my jeans and I reach for it. “Hey, Mum.”
“I have good news, darling. We found Grace.”
“What? Where is she?”
“Manly Hospital. East Wing.”
36
Grace
The hospital is dilapidated and third world. Paint peels from the walls, wilting in flaccid strips. Daniel walks alongside me, hedging glances left and right as if expecting to be preyed upon. We find the waiting room and he slumps into a chair, catching the weight of his disordered head in his hands.
I fall into the seat beside him. Immediately a nurse calls out from behind the glass-fronted counter. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
“Stay here,” I command, making my way to the triage nurse. She watches as I walk, eyes darting from me and back to Dan several times.
“Is he okay? What’s the problem?” She rubs at her neck, clearly exhausted.
“No, he’s not. He’s not well at all. Please, he needs a psychiatrist.”
Without reacting, she taps at her keyboard with a few firm strokes, taking down Daniel’s name and other details. “Are you related?”
“Yes, I’m his … wife.” My heart squeezes shut, images of Riley consuming me in a steady procession of coveted need.
“Take a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly.”
Sitting beside Dan, the anxiety simmering beneath his skin is palpable. He leans across and nuzzles his head into my chest like a frightened baby lamb.
“This isn’t a good idea, Grace. I can’t stay here.”
“Of course you can. You need to see the psychiatrist, remember?” I mash my lips together until they’re pressed white, desperate to keep hi
m here.
“But I don’t want to. This isn’t right.”
He rises suddenly and hastens through sliding glass doors into the night. Rain falls in slanting sheets, soaking him, leaving me with no choice but to follow.
“Dan, come back! Come back right now!” I berate him like a child needing reprimand, and he begins to run through the night, further and further from the help he truly needs. “Daniel!”
He turns, his face a ghostly white. The rain leaves a sheen upon his skin as it’s dowsed with water. He stops, consumed with a sobering thought, then walks over determinedly and takes my hand. “For you Grace, I’d do anything.”
I keep his hand pressed firmly in mine, and by the time we cross the street and make our way back inside, the triage nurse is searching for us. Dr Callan is ready to assess Dan, now holding himself taller and with complete composure.
“Follow me,” Dr Callan says, leading us into a secure ward.
Dan gives a solemn nod and I drag him through double doors which lock automatically behind us. Once inside we’re taken to a small room, past common areas filled with pool tables and strangers in backward-facing baseball caps and baggy mismatched clothing. It’s eerily dark and the energy is odd. My thoughts rage a battle in which no side wins.
Dan doesn’t belong here.
But he does. Look what he did! He kidnapped you and Gran, held you hostage. Drugged you both. Kept you hidden against your will.
But he doesn’t belong here.
I think you’ll find he does.
Perhaps it was me who needed psychiatric help. None of this made sense, and my heart ached more for Riley by the minute. Where was he? Did he find Gran? And how was she? So many questions, and I was stuck here with him. Because he needs me.
Dr Callan sits opposite, casually jotting down points as Daniel speaks somewhat guardedly. Dr Callan’s white shirt is buttoned almost to his neck, and he lifts a grey-trousered leg to rest it informally on his knee. He asks Dan about his family, his symptoms, how he’s been feeling. Whether he’s been hearing voices, or hallucinating. Whether he’s suffered any trauma lately.
The extraordinary proclamations from Daniel would surprise even the most jaded psychiatrist. He speaks of laser beams controlling his every thought and the belief he was chosen hundreds of years ago, in a storm above the sea - for what, he couldn’t say. He simply stated he was the Chosen One, and was therefore psychic, of all things.
Outlandish claims continue to pour from Daniel until Dr Callan asks me to leave. Dan looks briefly concerned yet holds his composure. I breathe a welcome sigh of relief and back hurriedly from the room.
I wait at least an hour amongst resident involuntary patients, watching them play pool without a flicker of emotion let alone communication between them. Were they dead inside? Did they feel? Were they even aware of who or where they were? For an awful moment, a young man with a spread of acne takes a shining to me, closing the distance, staring in uncomfortable proximity to my face.
Dr Callan opens the clinic door, breaking the awkward moment. He gestures for me to return to the room where Daniel sits fiddling with cords from his hoodie. He doesn’t even look up.
The doctor instructs me to take a seat, then releases a heavy breath. “On my recommendation, Daniel will be scheduled to remain here for a period of time. After what I’ve heard today, I believe Daniel to be a risk not only to himself, but to others as well. I’m also obligated to file a police report.”
Dan looks in my direction, expecting a response. A sweeping gesture, pleading with me to help. But instead of pity, a surge of relief sweeps through me. This man who was once my husband, and technically still was, had become a vague shell of his former self. This horrible illness had left him a husk, empty and hollow inside. When his eyes meet mine they’re dark, almost black, and his expression shadows them. He says nothing.
“Is there anyone else who should be informed about Daniel’s admission?”
“Only his mother,” I answer automatically, the reality of the situation and what Gran and I had been through only hitting me now. All this talk of scheduling Daniel against his will and filing police reports was beginning to sink in.
“Would you like us to call her? Or would you prefer to do it yourself?”
Unable to make eye contact with Dan, I stand up shakily. “I’d really appreciate if you would make that call, Doctor. His mother will have questions and only you will be able to answer them.”
Dr Callan nods. “Go home and get some rest. Daniel will be here for a while. Several weeks, at least.”
Daniel suddenly comprehends his predicament. A nasty vehemence spits with his words. “You bitch! I trusted you! You get me locked up here and then leave? I love you, Grace. Don’t you understand? You can’t leave me here! I won’t stay. You’re my wife and you need to be here with me, not running around with him. I won’t have it. It’s not right!” He paces agitatedly between the walls, swivelling unexpectedly to make a sharp, swift grab for my neck.
Dr Callan intercepts and seizes his arm. He presses the large red emergency button on the wall. “Settle down, Dan. Don’t make this worse for yourself.”
A burly orderly bursts in, pulling Dan roughly from the clinic by his arm.
“Get the fuck off me,” he yells, attempting to shake from the orderly’s grasp. “I don’t need to be here! Help me, Grace! Tell them!” A look of pure hatred fills his face and he lowers his voice to a nasty whisper. “But you won’t help, will you? Because you put me here. You wanted me locked away so you could be with him. I won’t allow it! I will never allow it! You are my wife and you belong with me.”
Another orderly arrives, holding Dan firmly by his other arm, and they frog march him down the dimly lit corridor and quickly out of sight.
When he’s gone, I stumble outside where the drizzle of rain filters softly over my skin. But I don’t feel it, this rain. Only the grass beneath my clothes, drowning me with the sodden earth below.
***
Tears roll ceaselessly over my face when I feel his familiar warmth. He takes me in his arms and wraps me tightly, lifting me from the small patch of wet grass I’d crumpled upon only minutes before. Rain soaks my clothes, my body wracked with shivers, but he smells so good. Woodsy and fresh. Like home. Even in the dark, in the sheeting night-time rain and without seeing his face, I know him. Will always know him. And I begin to quietly sob.
“Have you got a towel, Brady? Or a blanket?” he asks.
Moments later Riley shrouds me in something incredibly soft, holding me against his broad chest. “You’re okay, baby. He can’t hurt you now.”
“But he can. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“Come here.” He pulls me to a timber bench at the top of the stairs to the front entrance of the hospital. He drags me onto his lap and holds me like a child, where all I do is cry.
“He will never hurt you again because I won’t allow it. He won’t come near you. It won’t be possible, baby.”
We sit for an eternity that could never be long enough, but when the clouds clear and stars shimmer light onto the wet road, footsteps crunch on the gravel toward us, rapidly gaining in volume.
“Grace? Is that you?” A classy woman in a trench coat and Italian knee-high boots stops next to us. “And Riley? What on earth are you doing here? You’re here with Grace? Where’s Daniel?”
She removes the headscarf concealing her hair from the weather, and my heart stops. Although I’d recognised the voice, Catherine Bancroft stands in front of us, confused and angry all at the same time. Riley looks as if he’s trying to piece together a jigsaw, without much success.
I lift myself from Riley’s lap, straighten out my clothing. “Daniel’s inside. But …” I look from one to the other. “How do you know Riley?”
Riley rises from the bench also. “How do you two know each other?” he stutters, glancing from me to Catherine, and back again.
“Grace is my daughter in law. She’s married to
my son.” She looks intently at me. “For what that marriage is worth.”
“How do you know Catherine?” I ask Riley, patiently waiting for an answer.
He shifts nervously from foot to foot. “I … we … we’ve been working together. Dad and I have been working for Catherine. But I didn’t know that she was … I didn’t know who she was.”
I take a moment, allowing the information to be processed. “You’ve been working for Daniel’s mother? His mother? This whole time?” I back away, betrayed. He moves to hold me but I push against his embrace.
“It wasn’t like that, Grace. You know how I felt about working with Dad. I told you everything. You know the kind of man he is. The expectations he had of me.”
Catherine narrows her eyes fiercely at me. “You’ve been having an affair with Riley. My poor, poor son. Kind. Loving. No wonder he’s ended up in here.” She gestures at the hospital dramatically with her brightly manicured hand.
“I didn’t have an affair, Catherine. I left him. Months and months ago. He stalked me, followed me, kidnapped me. You can’t blame me for his behaviour.”
Catherine raises her eyebrows. “If you choose to believe that, I can’t change your warped view of reality. You left him in the middle of the night. Vanished into thin air. He searched for you, Grace. It’s because of you …”
“Now hang on a minute,” Riley starts. “I’ve heard all about your son. Your son is a nasty piece of …”
“No, let me speak, dear Riley. I have something important to say,” Catherine interrupts without blinking an eye. She holds up a hand in Riley’s face, halting his words. “It’s been lovely working with you and your father. Such a wonderful, close, cohesive partnership. A very lucrative partnership for both of you, I’m sure. You stand to make millions. But now … I’m not so sure what to do.” She pauses for dramatic effect, tapping a fingernail at her temple. “The two of you have destroyed my son’s life. He’s in here because of you. Locked away. It’s because of you he’s now insane.” She wraps the scarf around her neck, threading it under her trench. “I’ll visit him now. And Riley … prepare your father. Unless you end your sordid little affair with her,” she motions at me dismissively, “I’ll pull the pin on the deal. She goes back to Daniel, back to their marriage, or the deal’s off.” She turns tail and struts into the hospital, turning back one last time. “End the relationship Riley, or this little dalliance will cost you greatly.”
