They stared at each other for a long moment. Lara twirled her pencil with her fingers. ‘I’ve been trying to get these stories out there for years,’ she said at last. ‘I thought Me Too was going to change it all, but in some ways it almost seems worse. The threat of defamation scares off women while it protects the men who do these things to them.’
‘So help me do something about it,’ Quinn said. ‘Help me get his name out there. Help me damage him.’
Lara tapped the pencil on the table. ‘You know he could sue you?’
Quinn raised her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘At least that would get this into a courtroom. As it stands, even if I hadn’t dropped the case, I’m told the DPP would’ve been unlikely to proceed given the low chance of a conviction.’
‘God, I’m so sorry, Quinn.’
‘Don’t be sorry. Help me get justice.’
There was another stretch of silence, Lara’s expression revealing the war in her head.
‘I won’t be able to get it in the paper,’ she said. ‘But there might be another way. I still have publishing access on the website. I could upload the story tonight … That will hopefully give us half of tomorrow before it gets noticed and taken down.’
Excitement fluttered in Quinn’s breast. ‘You might get fired.’
‘I might,’ Lara said. ‘But I became a journo because I wanted to make a difference. It would all be for nothing if I was never willing to take a risk to do the right thing.’
‘Thank you,’ Quinn said. ‘I appreciate this more than I can say.’ She got to her feet. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to blow up my career.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-ONE YEARS AGO
HANNAH
This was the last time, the very last time she would let him touch her, Hannah vowed. She’d so looked forward to going away with him when he’d first asked her, but ever since she’d found out the truth, she’d approached this weekend with increasing dread. She’d hoped that by now she’d have already ended things with him for good. But it was Friday night and she’d only just finished assembling her folder full of evidence that evening. She wouldn’t be able to see the Dean until the following Monday, and she couldn’t risk tipping Joseph off that anything had changed; not when she was this close. So now here she was, shut in a car with him on an empty highway at midnight on the way to his family’s river shack in Berri.
He reached over in the dark and put a clammy hand on her bare thigh. ‘I’m going to fuck you senseless when we get there.’
Hannah very much doubted this, but she didn’t respond. Her skin crawled, and she longed to dash his hand away. But she had to hold on for now. One more night with him. Just one more night, and then she was finally going to get her revenge. It had taken a while to gather the testimonies from all the other students … much longer than Hannah had hoped, and her hurt at being one of so many had hardened into hatred. She’d even managed to track down two girls whom he’d actually managed to get kicked out of the law school. Neither of them had been aware that there were others, and they’d been excited to discover that Hannah was doing something about him.
Meaty fingers inched up her thigh and under her skirt, pushing her underwear to one side, probing her. Hannah wanted to scream.
‘You should concentrate on the road,’ she said instead.
Joseph flashed her a smile. ‘It’s difficult to concentrate on anything with a beautiful young thing like you by my side.’
Once, Hannah would’ve melted at these words, but now it was so obvious how he was stroking her ego that she could barely conceal her contempt. He always fixated on her youth like this, as if it were something precious and rare, as if he couldn’t believe his luck that she’d chosen to give herself to him. As if he hadn’t said the same words to all those other students. Hannah couldn’t stand it. Coming with him had been a mistake. She wrenched his hand away. ‘Can you stop?’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ His normally amiable tone took on a sulky edge.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she said. ‘Could you turn around? I want to go home.’
‘But we’re halfway there. Let’s just go for tonight, and I’ll drive you back tomorrow.’
‘No, I want to go home now. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to see other people.’
He stared at her for so long that she was worried the car was going to go off the road. She couldn’t make out his expression in the faint light from the dashboard, but she felt something change in the air between them before he finally spoke. ‘It makes no difference to me if you want to sleep with other people, Hannah. Just make sure you use protection. I wouldn’t want to pick up anything nasty from you.’
The disdain in his words lit a fire within her. All this time – even during the last few painful weeks – she’d clung to the belief that there’d been something different about her, but now she realised he’d never felt anything for her.
‘Can you turn around, Joseph? I don’t want to see you anymore. You don’t care about anyone but yourself and you’re really, really bad at sex.’ Before Hannah could stop them, the words came pouring out. ‘I know what you’ve been doing. I know about the other girls and the threats you’ve been making for years. I know about Jasmine and Rachel and how they didn’t fight you because they thought they were the only ones and they bought it when you told them no one would believe their stories. I know about the girls who decided they’d rather put your disgusting dick in their mouths than throw away their futures. I know about all of them, and on Monday I’m going to the Dean and I’m going to get you chucked out of the law school and I can’t wait.’
She waited for her words to penetrate his ego, but he just gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’m an institution in that law school. You’re just a horny little tart who kept coming onto me. No one’s going to believe you over me, darling.’
‘Maybe,’ Hannah said. ‘But do you think they’ll believe two girls who tell the same story? Or four? How about seventeen?’
‘You’re bluffing.’ But his voice wavered just a little.
‘That’s how many girls I’ve found who are willing to talk. I bet there are more, though, aren’t there?’
‘You little bitch,’ he spat. ‘I’ll ruin you for this.’
Hannah laughed, high on the fear that was now radiating from him. ‘No, I’ll ruin you. Your career’s over. Now turn the fucking car around and take me home.’
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘You know, this highway is always deserted at this time of the night. You might want to think about how you talk to me, girl.’
The car sped up and Hannah’s blood chilled. She shouldn’t have spewed it all out to him, not here, not now, but it was too late to stuff the words back into her mouth, too late to fix this. Joseph yanked the steering wheel to the left, to the right, to the left, the car weaving in long arcs up the highway. He pressed the accelerator down and the car increased speed once again.
‘Joseph, can you stop?’ Hannah said.
He ignored her and went even faster, still weaving. She clutched the door handle.
‘Look, I’m sorry. I was just messing with you. I’m not going to go to the Dean. Please, just slow down and let’s talk about this.’
‘Nothing to talk about,’ he said. ‘You’ve laid your cards on the table, and I’ve got to tell you, you would’ve made a god-awful lawyer showing your hand this early.’
‘Please, Joseph,’ Hannah begged. ‘Please stop.’
They went ever faster, Joseph making increasingly erratic movements with the steering wheel. Any second the tyres would hit the gravel shoulder and the car would end up wrapped around a telegraph pole.
‘Stop!’ Hannah sobbed. ‘Please!’
But he was laughing, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. Hannah just wanted to make this stop. She just wanted it to stop.
The tyres screeched. The car spun off the road.
The world was tumbling over and over and over and Hannah�
��s shoulder was bouncing on and off the passenger door, the seatbelt cutting into her chest, and then everything went black.
Hannah’s head was pounding when she woke up, her neck at an uncomfortable angle. She straightened it with difficulty and opened her eyes, struggling to get her bearings. It took a second to remember what had happened, but when she saw the dark shape slumped over the steering wheel, horror shot through her and her heart thudded against her rib cage.
The car had landed the right way up. The crooked beams from the headlights revealed the golden stubble of a recently harvested crop. Hannah removed her seatbelt, wincing at the bruise it had left across her chest. She reached up and switched on the car’s interior light. Joseph’s window had shattered. Tiny diamonds of glass glinted on his shoulders. One of his arms was bent at a sickening angle. Hannah brushed some of the glass off his back, then shook his shoulder gently.
‘Joseph?’ she whispered.
No response. She tugged a little at his shoulder, gently at first, then put her weight behind her grip and hauled him back. When she let go, he fell forward again, his head bumping against the steering wheel.
‘Sorry!’ she said automatically.
She tried again and he collapsed heavily back against the seat. Blood seeped from a wound on his head. Though his eyes were open, he didn’t seem to be conscious. Slow dread crept over Hannah. Her fingers fluttered at his neck, feeling for a pulse. But there was nothing.
‘Joseph!’ she screamed. She shook his shoulder again, trying to rouse him, but he was so heavy that she could barely move him. Then his head lolled to one side, his eyes glassy, and she knew. She knew. Blood dripped from his head, leaving spots on his tan trousers. She hated those trousers. They detracted from the natural charisma that had first drawn her to him; they made him look ordinary, like a dorky dad from the suburbs. Not that they’d bothered her when she’d been sitting beside him at his dining table, her textbooks spread out in front of them, his leg pressed against hers, his family in the next room.
God, his wife and kids.
Her throat constricted and she gasped, unable to bear being in the car with him any longer. She tried to throw the passenger door open, but it was stuck and wouldn’t budge. Thankfully it was an older car and she was able to manually wind down the window. It took a bit of manoeuvring, but she stuck her legs out first and managed to wiggle out of the window and land on the soft earth of the paddock. But now she was out, she had no idea what to do. Neither of them had mobile phones, and Joseph had said there was never any traffic on this highway at night, so there was little chance of flagging someone down. She forced herself to think. Before she’d so stupidly poured everything out to Joseph, they’d passed a road sign saying it was five kilometres to the nearest town. She’d never heard of the town, so it must have been small, but surely there was a public phone there so she could call … who? The police? An ambulance? And tell them what? How could she explain this?
But she couldn’t stay here, so she started heading across the paddock to the road, her feet sinking into the earth, the granular soil sifting through her sandals, the sharp stubble scratching her ankles. It was only when she reached the road and looked back that she realised the car was lit up like a beacon, the headlights slashing through the darkness, the interior light spotlighting Joseph’s dangling head. Hannah moaned. She didn’t want to go back, but it felt wrong to leave him there like that.
She crossed back to the car. Glass from Joseph’s window was scattered around the driver’s side door, and a shard sliced into her heel as she leant through to switch off the headlights. Only the interior light remained. All she could think about was getting this over with, so she leant across Joseph’s body, whimpering as the bare skin of her chest brushed over the wetness of his blood. Then her finger found the light switch and the world was plunged into darkness. More blood got on her hand as she pushed her body backwards out the window. Sobbing as she went, she ran all the way back to the road, sliding in the loose soil.
By the time she reached the highway, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she followed the ribbon of the road in the direction they’d been heading. It felt like she walked all night, but finally she stumbled into a small roadside town with nothing but a pub, a tiny church and a petrol station by the highway. The petrol station was closed, but there was a phone box out the front. It was only when she picked up the receiver that Hannah realised she’d left her bag back in the car with Joseph. She started crying again.
Then her eyes were drawn to a glinting from the ground; a small assortment of silver change was scattered across the asphalt. She fell on it with relief. There was just enough to make a call, but then she paused, paralysed by indecision. She knew she should call the police, report the accident, but how would she explain what had happened, why she had been in the car? It would end up in the media, her face slashed across the newspapers; the scheming young mistress who seduced her lecturer then goaded him to his death, robbing his children of a father, his wife of a husband.
There was only one person she could think of to call. One person she could depend on. She picked up the receiver and dialled.
‘Hello?’ came her voice, groggy with sleep.
‘I’ve fucked up,’ Hannah sobbed. ‘I need you.’
‘Hannah? Is that you? What happened?’
‘There was an accident. He’s dead, Quinn.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HANNAH
Hannah was preparing Sam’s third breakfast and Grace’s second on Saturday morning when Ethan looked up from the tablet he’d been reading the news on and said, ‘Jesus.’
‘What?’ she said.
‘Did you know about this?’ He pointed at the screen in front of him.
‘Well, given I don’t know what this is, I guess not,’ she said tartly.
‘You’ll probably want to read it. Your friend has lost the plot.’
Foreboding rippled through Hannah. She hadn’t heard from Quinn since that ill-fated meeting a couple of days ago with the other women who’d worked at Big Sky. She’d had a bad feeling when Quinn had said that thing about finding a way to make Simon pay. Whatever this was in the news, it couldn’t be good. She went over to the dining table and read over Ethan’s shoulder.
PR EXECUTIVE ACCUSES COLLEAGUE OF SERIAL SEXUAL ASSAULT, the headline shouted.
Senior PR consultant Quinn Stafford has accused her manager at Big Sky Public Relations of raping her and several other women at the agency in an angry Twitter rant yesterday.
‘Oh god, Quinn,’ she said in dismay. ‘He’s going to sue you for this.’
Ethan snorted. ‘Of course he’s going to sue her. She’s a bloody idiot.’
‘She’s not an idiot,’ Hannah said, but hadn’t she herself called Quinn stupid only a week ago? If she’d been there for her, advised her properly, if she’d turned up at her apartment every day until she’d spoken to her, maybe she could’ve stopped this from happening. ‘I have to call her.’
In their bedroom, she dialled Quinn’s number.
‘Did you see it?’ Quinn said immediately, her voice breathless. ‘Isn’t it great?’
‘What?’ Hannah was astounded. ‘No, Quinn, it’s not great at all. Why would you put all that on Twitter when half the media in Adelaide follow you? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do this?’
‘Because I knew you’d try to talk me out of it.’ Quinn laughed. ‘Don’t you see? I set this whole thing up with Lara. I deleted the tweets as soon as I knew she’d got screenshots.’
‘It doesn’t stop it being defamation. This could prejudice your case!’
‘I don’t have a case, Hannah!’ Quinn’s voice was hot and angry. ‘I’m doing this my own way.’
‘But what about the other women? They didn’t want this out there, you know that.’
‘I didn’t mention names or dates or anything,’ Quinn said. ‘No one’s going to know it was them.’
‘Oh, come on!’ Hannah said sharply. �
��Do you really think their parents, partners, friends aren’t going to see that story and start asking them questions? You betrayed them, Quinn.’
‘I’m trying to get justice for them!’
‘They never asked for you to get justice for them! This is going to blow up in your face, and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.’
There was a brief silence. Then, ‘Fuck you, Hannah,’ Quinn said bitterly. ‘You never had to pay for what you did, but you expect me to just lie down and take it. Well, I’m not getting fucked over again … especially not by you. I’m done with you. Stay out of my life.’
‘Quinn—’ Hannah began, but she’d already hung up.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, crushed. After everything, she’d never expected to hear those words come out of Quinn’s mouth. Their friendship, forged by a mutual fascination with one another, strengthened by their emotional connection, had been held together by the gossamer rope of the favour Quinn had once done for her. Now Quinn had hacked through the frayed remains of that rope, and Hannah was devastated.
And yet.
Beneath the weight of her grief floated something else: something light, something that glittered in the sunlight and tasted of new beginnings. Relief. Without Quinn in her life, without the debt she owed her wrapped around and around her neck, she was free. She could breathe again. She would never have to pay for the mess she’d created. Next year she would go back to work, and the accident could be forgotten forever. She would make new friends. Work on her marriage without the voice whispering over her shoulder that she wasn’t meant to be here. Let go of the impulsiveness that had been creeping back into her and return to the safe, sensible life she had cultivated.
Ethan came into the bedroom and sat on the bed beside her. ‘What’d she have to say for herself?’
Hannah put the phone down on the bed beside her, as if he might be able to look into it and see what Quinn had said to her. ‘She got angry at me because I didn’t approve of her strategy, and then she hung up on me.’
The Favour Page 22
