by Judy Nunn
'No, he never did anything.'
Nora could see that the girl had closed off. 'He did to me,' she said. Good, that had got her attention. 'He raped me in the front room of the house in South Perth while you and your mum were at the Royal Show.'
That had more than got her attention. In fact, Nora found it rather comical the way her beautifully elegant young niece's eyes widened and her jaw gaped. Jo was, understandably, gob-smacked. But there was more to come.
'It was just before Hillary married him,' she said. 'I was twenty-three years old and a virgin.' She smiled, end of shock tactics. 'It was the fifties, remember, we kept ourselves for Mr Right in those days.'
'He raped you?' Jo's voice was a barely audible whisper.
'Well, it started out as seduction – a kiss and a cuddle on the front room sofa where Hill served tea to visitors she was trying to impress. I have to admit that I found it so thrillingly wicked I went along with it for a while.
Perhaps I was trying to prove a point to myself,' Nora added in all honesty. 'I used to be jealous of Hill as a kid. She was eight years older than me, a real stunner, and I was the scrawny kid sister, playing the tomboy when I really didn't want to. I'd always wished that boys would flock to me the way they did to Hill. I suppose I was proving some sort of point to myself, letting her fiancé have a bit of a pash. And let's face it, Darren's a very good-looking man.'
Jo made no comment. She'd never found him so personally.
'Anyway,' Nora continued, 'after a few minutes he started to grope me, and when I tried to call a halt he accused me of being a prick-teaser.' Another shrug of honesty. 'I suppose he was right in a way, wasn't he? But at twenty-three, even though I'd looked after you and Hill – who, frankly, was a mess when your dad died – I was still a dumb kid sexually. I tried to reason with him. I said I was sorry, I hadn't meant to lead him on, he was my sister's fiancé and it had been terrible of me ... But it didn't stop him, and that's when the whole thing got ugly. He told me I was a slut and that I wanted it, and that he was the one who was going to give it to me. He knew I was a virgin.'
Nora had spoken throughout in her customary wry manner, without a hint of melodrama, and she concluded in exactly the same way.
'Afterwards, he warned me that if I told Hill what had happened, he'd say I threw myself at him, that he knocked me back, and that I was making up the story because I was afraid he'd tell her. He was supremely confident. She'll believe me. You won't have a leg to stand on. Those were his exact words.'
Nora sat back, story over. 'And that's it, kiddo. Oh, just for the record, let's keep it between ourselves. I've never told Geoff. He hasn't met Hillary, but he may some day, and it's something he doesn't need to know.' She nodded encouragingly. 'We're in agreement, Jo: Darren's not a nice man. So why don't you tell me what he did to you?'
'But you did tell Mum, didn't you? What did she say?'
'She believed him, of course. I'd always been jealous ... I didn't want her to be happy ... I couldn't get a man of my own so I'd tried to steal hers ... She got really hysterical. Darren was right – I didn't have a leg to stand on.'
'But why? Why would Mum be so gullible? After everything you'd done for her? For both of us?'
Nora hadn't wanted to go into the details of what she truly believed; she'd told her story only as encouragement for Jo to tell hers. But the girl seemed intent upon hearing the truth, and it might help if she understood her mother's obsession with the man she so detested.
'Hillary did it tough when your dad came home from the war,' she said, treading gently. This was delicate ground.
'So did Dad.'
It was a defensive reaction, and Nora wasn't surprised. Jo had been only six when her father had died. She remembered him as the gentle creature he'd been in his last years; a beautiful man, certainly, but fragile, dying.
'He was gassed in the war, Jo.'
'I know that. I've always known that.' Defensive again. Jo wasn't sure why they were discussing her father.
'Hillary was thrilled when he came home, and seemingly in one piece. She'd been worried sick, of course. She thought that now he was back, everything would return to normal. But it didn't. A year later, the war was over but Hill's own troubles were just beginning. Your dad was a very sick man.'
'What exactly are you trying to say? That Mum was thankful when he died?'
'No, not at all, she loved him very much.' Damn, Nora thought, she'd known this would be difficult. Perhaps she should have left it alone. 'I'm just trying to explain the hold Darren had over your mother. She was in her early thirties, a sensual young woman, and your father had been an invalid for years –'
'I was born in 1945, Nora, Dad couldn't have been impotent.'
'Of course not.'
Well, perhaps not in the euphoria of his homecoming, Nora thought, but didn't the girl recall the constant attacks and the struggle for breath in those final years? Didn't she remember the oxygen tank always at the ready? Was her memory that selective?
No longer merely on the defensive, Jo's reply had carried a touch of belligerence and Nora realised that to explain the reasons for Hillary's blind obsession with Darren was pointless. Jo was too preoccupied with her own obsession, too determined to preserve the image of a man she could barely recall. Nora found the fierce way she clung to the memory of her father intensely moving. It was as if he were all that she had.
'I'm just saying that your mother was vulnerable, Jo,' she continued gently. 'She was a lonely woman, devastated by your father's death, and Darren swept her off her feet.'
He certainly had, she thought, in every sense. Hillary had regaled her with details of Darren's sexual prowess in those days when they'd talked as sisters. You wanted to know what it was like, didn't you, Nora? That was another of the vicious accusations Hillary had flung at her after the rape.
'And so she believed him over you, the sister who'd nursed her through her grief? Who'd looked after her daughter?' Jo remained unforgiving. Nora's attempted explanation had only reignited the antagonism she felt towards her mother. 'I'm afraid it doesn't cut any ice with me.'
Well, at least they'd got off the subject of her father, Nora thought, regretful that she'd brought the matter up. She hadn't realised that Jo would be so zealously over-protective.
'Your turn, kiddo,' she said. 'Tell me about Darren.'
Jo, also relieved by the change of subject, told her aunt everything, the story of her childhood tumbling out unchecked, the second time only in the whole of her life that she'd spoken of it. She'd found a certain relief in the guarded version she'd shared with Mike, but this was different, a total unburdening. Nora was far more than just a caring and sympathetic listener. Nora knew precisely what she was talking about. Nora knew Darren.
'That's why I hate him,' she said fifteen minutes later. 'Not for what he did to me, but for what he did to me and Mum. He put a wall up between us.'
Suddenly aware that her story must have sounded in-adequate in the face of Nora's, Jo stared self-consciously down at the wooden deck of the balcony. 'I'm sorry, I've gone on about nothing really, haven't I? I mean, what did he do to me? He didn't rape me, he didn't take my virginity, did he?'
Nora said nothing but her heart went out to the girl. No, she thought, he didn't take your virginity, kiddo. He took much, much more. He took your childhood. Why had it never occurred to her that Darren might make over-tures towards Hillary's daughter, she thought guiltily. Of course he would. Darren Collins was a monster.
Jo continued to stare miserably at the decking. 'I just wish I could have told Mum, that's all.'
'She wouldn't have believed you.'
'I know.'
'No, kiddo, you don't know.' Nora paused, waiting for the girl to look up at her. 'It's your mother who knows.' She let the words sink in before she continued. 'I believe that Hillary's always known. Just as she knew that I was telling the truth all those years ago.'
'Then why?' Jo was incredulous, it seemed an extraordinary
statement. 'Why didn't she believe you? Why wouldn't she have believed me, if I'd told her?'
'She couldn't afford to. She still can't. I doubt whether she'll ever allow herself to face the truth. At least, that's my belief.'
'How can you be so sure?'
'Is she still the same with him? When Darren's in the room, there's no-one else there?'
Jo remembered the times, too innumerable to mention, when she'd seemed invisible to her mother. 'Yes,' she said.
'That's how it was from the moment they first met. Hillary's entire existence revolves around him, it always has. She's blinded herself to anything she perceives as a threat – her sister, her daughter, even the man himself. She can't afford to believe anything bad of Darren, and he knows it. Golly, he could probably get away with murder if he chose to. In Hill's eyes, anyway.'
Jo was no longer incredulous. Everything Nora said rang true. She'd always known her mother wouldn't believe her, but had she sensed that her mother didn't want to believe her? Was that why she'd kept silent all those years? She could see herself now, edging away as Darren stroked her pretty new dress, his hands straying across her shoulders and arms. She could see her mother entering the room, Darren continuing to stroke her, less lasciviously, his face bland and paternal, but nonetheless secure in his actions. She could hear both of them commenting on what a pretty dress it was, and she could feel herself wondering why her mother couldn't see that something was terribly wrong.
She felt sickened and angry. Thank God she'd developed her own strength. She remembered how, as she'd got older, she'd stood her ground, staring him down, defying him to go that step further, hoping her mother would catch him out, her boldness scaring him off. Darren had proved a coward, which was just as well, she now thought. What would it have taken for her mother to defend her? A rape, like Nora's? Or would Hillary have turned a blind eye to that too?
'Don't be angry with your mother, Jo. She can't help it, she's her own victim.'
This time Nora didn't regret having spoken as she had. Better that Jo should understand her mother, she thought. Perhaps one day she may even feel sorry for her. Nora certainly did.
'Poor Hillary,' she said, 'it's tragic. She's denied herself friends and family for years. She's built herself a prison, and she'll lock us all out rather than admit to a truth which, deep down, she knows.'
'I wonder if she'll lock out her grandchild.'
It was Jo's turn to shock, although that hadn't been her intention. Today was a day for confessions, and now seemed the perfect time to tell Nora. Besides, it was good to have an ally.
An hour later, the peace of the afternoon was shattered as Stevie and Paula, ten and eight years old respectively, arrived home from school. But by that time, the plans were set in motion.
'Jo's not going to get a flat after all,' Nora announced. 'She's going to be staying with us.'
'Beauty bottler!' Stevie yelled.
Jo had already established herself as a favourite with Nora's children, and Stevie's hug was quickly followed by Paula's before the two raced off to to make themselves Vegemite sandwiches.
'He gets it from old Uncle Ted,' Nora had explained upon Jo's first meeting with the children, 'along with "whacko the diddle-o" and "strike me lucky" and all the rest. I like it.' She'd promised to take Jo to meet old Uncle Ted who lived in the Blue Mountains. He'd been in World War One and was a colourful bloke, she'd said, the kids both adored him. Jo, who had never met her mother's uncle, had realised that she was more surrounded by relatives in Sydney than she'd ever been in her life.
As she watched the children gallop away towards the kitchen, Nora yelling after them, 'It's not a race!', a sense of family overwhelmed her and she fought back the embarrassing threat of tears.
'Don't you think you'd better discuss all this with Geoff first?' she said, looking away and blinking rapidly, hoping that Nora hadn't perceived her moment of weakness. Jo rarely cried, and never in the presence of others.
'Rubbish, there's tons of room and he adores you. He did the moment he met you, and why on earth wouldn't he? We're family.'
That was all it took. Jo's eyes welled, and she focused on the multi-storey car park – the one ugly feature that marred the otherwise perfect view. 'You're right, the car park's an absolute monstrosity,' she said, willing the tears to stay in their sockets.
'Let it out, kiddo.' Nora shifted her chair close and gathered Jo in her arms. 'Come on now, let it out.'
Jo sobbed as she never had before. It had been an afternoon of revelations and she was drained.
'There, there.' Nora, a small woman, considerably shorter than Jo, cuddled the girl to her breast like a gawky child. 'You're not alone any more,' she crooned.
Jo felt ridiculous, and sobbed all the more.
She gathered herself together only minutes later, and Nora, aware that her niece was unaccustomed to such outbursts of emotion, shifted away to give her space.
'Did you really think you could do all this on your own?' she asked.
'Yes.'
Despite the tear-stained face, the look in the hazel-green eyes was one of unwavering resolution, and Nora realised that the girl most certainly would have done it on her own. She was strong, there was no doubt about that.
'Well, now you don't have to,' she said.
'I know. And I'm glad,' Jo admitted. 'Thank you.'
'Why thank me?' Nora grinned wickedly. 'With two kids at school, me not working and Geoff on a government salary, Darren's money will come in handy I can promise you.'
Jo had insisted that if she were to stay with them, she would pay her way, and as she returned Nora's smile, albeit shakily, she realised this was another first. She'd always felt guilty about accepting Darren's money. She didn't any more.
'Why on earth should you?' Nora had said when she'd expressed her guilt. 'You're earning it. He's paying for your silence, placing you in his debt, just in case.'
Nora's smile faded now; there was one other issue they needed to address.
'You must tell your mother about the pregnancy,' she said.
'Not just yet.' Jo's reply was detached. 'I'll leave it for a while.'
'At least let me ring her and let her know you're staying on here with us.'
'No. Mike will be trying to find out where I am. It's better that she doesn't have a contact to give him.'
'What do I say then?'
'That I'm visiting old Uncle Ted in the Blue Mountains.'
'You'll have to tell her sometime, kiddo.'
'I will.'
Jo didn't tell her mother until shortly before the baby was born. She telephoned and they chatted intermittently, but she never said a word about her pregnancy. And her mother didn't question her about why she'd not yet enrolled at Sydney University, accepting Jo's glib explanation that she was taking a year off and working part-time as a receptionist in a doctor's Macquarie Street rooms, which she was. Hillary's main concern appeared to be the accommodation arrangements.
'I thought you were going to get a flat,' she said. 'It doesn't seem right that you should bludge off Nora.'
