Falling for Jennifer Ch. 02

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Hot_Sister
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The mobile phone rang and the leader answered, nodding once before turning it off and warning the others. They set aside their bottles and put the flour sacks over their heads, and they moved into the bushes beside the path in the dappled shadows of yellow and black thrown by the single overhead lamp. The leader crouched at the front of the group, holding a hand up to restrain the others. They could see Jen now, walking quickly with her head down and her hands in her pockets and they could see their companion loitering some distance behind her. She approached quickly, almost silent in her running shoes, her face a pale blur under the hood of her coat. They could see the glint of her eyes as she walked into the pool of light, and they waited a few moments to allow her to pass and then they pounced.

Jen was a strong girl and she struggled, but there were four of them and there was no hope of escape. She tried to scream but they put tape over her mouth and they struck her on the side of the head to stun her, and she felt herself being lifted and carried and flung roughly to the floor of the gazebo. They tied her to one of the supporting columns, sitting up with her back to the rough stonework, and when she came to her senses they were stood over her.

The four figures were dappled and striped by the long black shadows thrown by the columns and ornate balustrade of the gazebo, and their tracksuits looked like military fatigues. Their bodies were elongated by the perspective of her low vantage point so they appeared massive, and the sacks on their heads with the black eyeholes roughly hacked through the dark, mottled cloth were terrifying. She shrank back, her eyes frantic with fear and her low moan of terror was muffled by the tape around her mouth.

"Cut off her clothes." The leader's voice was low and breathless at what was about to happen.

They seized their knives and slit the sleeves of her coat and the legs of her tracksuit, and

she felt their hands on her body, hard fingers as they pulled away the material. They cut the straps to her bra and the triangle of her little white knickers, ripping them aside so she was naked. She heard them laughing, high-pitched and nervous, charged with fear and excitement and power. The taller of them crouched in front of her and leaned forward. Jen could see the glint of eyes through the black holes in the hood.

"This is what we do to girls who fuck their brothers." The voice was low pitched and malevolent and Jen realised with a shock that it was a woman's.

Jen felt them seize her hair and she felt the sting of the blades on her scalp hacking away her locks, the clumps falling on her shoulders and pooling in her lap, shining gold in the thin light. She tried to keep still but pain and fear made her move, and the blades cut her head so the blood ran down over her face and into her eyes. She could smell the rank, stale odour of liquor and cigarettes and the musk of their excitement, and she could hear them whispering and laughing as they worked.

At length the leader stood up. "Bring the tar."

They brought the bucket and she could smell the smoking hot chemical stink of the bitumen, and she writhed in terror at what they were going to do. One of them dipped a brush into the bucket and lifted it above her head, and she screamed in pain as the hot liquid dribbled and splattered on to her naked skin.

"Wait!" The leader stooped forward, inspecting the spots of smoking black tar amidst the hacked golden tufts of Jen's hair, and she waved aside the brush. Even in her befuddled state she realised it was still too hot, and that it would kill her if they used it. She thrust her face close to Jen's and laughed, a bitter little sound without humour. "That's what you'll get next time, you whore," she said. "Leave town. Take your little fuck-boy somewhere else."

The black eye-holes regarded her for a moment longer, and then she nodded at two of the figures and they unzipped their pants and Jen saw the thick uncircumcised heads of their pricks. They stood over her and urinated, the streams of gold steaming slightly in the cold evening air, hosing over her head and shoulders. She could smell the ammoniac stink of their waste and its heat cooled rapidly, chilling her skin as it dripped and trickled into the nooks and crannies of her body.

With a wave of her hand the woman dismissed her companions, and like crabs scuttling away they gathered their things and melted into the darkness. She leaned over Jen once again. "Be glad it wasn't the men in charge, you bitch, or you'd have been fucked to death." Then she too was gone and Jen was left alone and sobbing in the darkness, abused and humiliated.

The young doctor sat by the bed and held Jen's hand. Like everyone else around he had heard the stories about her, but he was not inclined to make judgments based on rumour. He talked quietly to her, aware that the brother was listening too.

"There's no damage, really," he said. "We've removed the spots of tar and we've shaved your head, and your hair will grow back." He regarded her, noting the pallor of her skin and the indigo bruises of fear and fatigue under her eyes. "I've arranged for a counselor to visit in the morning, and I think the police will want an interview as well." He smiled, more to give a sense of normality than through anything else. "They wanted to speak to you tonight but I sent them away."

Jen's voice was low. "No police."

"You've been the victim of a savage and unprovoked attack, Jennifer. Had they used the tar you would certainly have died. You are entitled to the full protection of the law."

"No."

The doctor glanced at David, who shrugged slightly. "Very well. The pills you took help you to sleep and I'll stop by in the morning." He squeezed her hand. "If it's any consolation, Jennifer, I think what has happened to you is appalling, and I'd be happy to have you both as my neighbours any time."

David waited for the doctor to leave the room and he leaned over to kiss her. The light was behind him and his shadow fell across her face as he moved, and in her fear and confusion she thought it was the hooded figure again, come back to finish the job. She shrank from him, her eyes full of terror. "No," she whispered. "No, no, I won't...not ever again." And then she perceived it was David and she saw the pain in his eyes but she turned her head away and closed her eyes, and after a while the pills kicked in and she slept.

David sat by her bed and he thought about what had happened, and the terror she must have felt. He remembered the words of the Priest that she had told him: 'Your friends laughing at you, shunning you, work colleagues whispering poison behind your back. You'll lose your job - there'll be nothing for you....and then the Police will come. It will mean shame and ruin, Jennifer. Is that what you want?' He knew that she must move from the village and start again somewhere else, and in a moment of clarity he knew that she would never take him with her because as long as they were together it would start again. It was finished, and it was better that he end it cleanly.

The clock in the little village church was striking two when David rose stiffly to his feet, his mind made up. Jen was sleeping, the lines of fear and pain eased. Her lashes lay softly on her cheeks and her lips were slightly open and she looked young and beautiful and very vulnerable. He looked down at her, remembering all of the good times they had had together, and he thought his heart would break. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek, and he tiptoed out of the room and shut the door softly behind him, and he went home to pack.

August 2011

David Griffiths was thirty years old and he felt like a kid on his first date. He was sitting at a street table of the little restaurant dressed in his best clothes, nursing a cappuccino. The flowers were on the chair beside him and the present was on the table, carefully wrapped in bright paper and garnished with strands of ribbon in what he thought were her favourite colours.

He glanced again at his watch, and for the fourth time that morning he unfolded the sheet of paper and read her email again.

David,

In your email you said that you've become a stranger, and I guess that's true. Eleven years is a long, long time and we don't even know where the other one lives.

Was it Tennessee Williams who said "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers?" I think it was. I feel I need some kindness now and I can't think of a better stranger to ask for it.

Would you meet me? There's a little bistro called 'Cream' in the mainstreet of a village called Royalla Marsh not far from here. I'm thinking 12 o'clock on Saturday, if you can make it for lunch. I'll be the one with the rose between my teeth.

Jen.

x

David had been dismayed to see there was no salutation before his name - just "David", but he thought the tone of the email was good and he was encouraged by the kiss at the end. He folded it carefully and put it in his pocket to be kept with the other little treasures of her memory, in case this didn't work out.

Jen watched him through the window of the little antique shop across the road. She could see he was older now, which wasn't surprising. His face had filled out and there were lines around his eyes and mouth that had not been there when she had last seen him in the hospital - but they added character to his face. She thought it had turned handsome, where before he had been pretty. There was no trace of grey in his hair, and she saw his body was lean and powerful, as if he had been working out in the years since they had parted. She watched him open a piece of paper and read it briefly and she guessed it was her email, and that he was checking the time and place again - probably for the umpteenth time today. She smiled to know that he was as nervous as she was.

She glanced into a mirror on one of the antique dressers in the shop. It was speckled and flyblown, but it was enough to check her make up. She saw an errant strand of hair and her hands fluttered to it, brushing it back into place, fiddling with her collar and smoothing down the coat - and then, with a final grimace of nervousness, she turned and walked through the open door and she crossed the street to where her brother sat.

David saw her when she was half way across the street and his heart leaped in his chest. He saw that she was older, her face rounder than he remembered. Her figure was fuller too, but there was no fat on her body: rather, there was a voluptuousness that she had lacked as a younger woman - deeper curves that were accentuated by the tailored suit she wore.

He rose to her feet and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, but she seized him and they embraced. Her hair was shorter than before, cut in a sort of bob, and he could smell the scent of apple and soap on her skin. After a moment they separated, and she sat down.

"I hardly recognised you without the rose," David said.

She was taken aback. "What? What rose?"

"In your email." He touched his pocket. "You said you'd be the one with the rose in your teeth."

"Ah, I remember now." She smiled. "I tried it but I was worried about the pricks - I mean, prickles." He could see a faint blush on her cheeks as she corrected herself. "God, that didn't sound right, did it." She laughed. "I can see that in the local rag: 'Local woman meets long lost brother with a prick in her mouth'."

David laughed with her, and was relieved that she hadn't lost any of the humour and spontaneity of her youth. Her grey eyes were laughing too, crinkled at the edges, and her teeth were white and even. He realised that she had turned into a beautiful woman.

"Tell me about yourself, Jen. What have you been doing since I last saw you?"

"Short version? Moved to Sydney. Found job, worked, met man. Married. Separated ten years ago - no kids. Hated city so moved to smaller place. Set up business and here I am." She didn't mention the years of loneliness, of broken relationships and an empty bed because none of the men she met had measured up to him. "What about you?"

"Moved to Melbourne. Worked. Never married as nobody would have me. Worked some more, wrote to long lost sister and here I am."

"Why wouldn't anyone have you?"

David shrugged. "Too grotchety, I guess...and they were always in competition with someone else." His eyes were on her face, inviting her to talk about it.

She put her hand on his arm. "Don't, David. Not yet. We can talk about that time somewhere else, but not here -" she broke off as the waitress brought them menus. "God, I'm famished. I plan to eat everything on the menu...what about you?"

He nodded and they scanned the fare, ordering starters and mains and a crisp white Sauvignon Blanc to go with the meal. The food was good and as the level in the bottle dropped they began to relax a little, finding the connection again, laughing at little things they had heard or read about. She ordered a dessert - a fig pudding drizzed in butterscotch sauce and she ate it whilst he sipped his coffee.

David watched her eat the last mouthful with obvious relish. "How come you're not the size of an elephant?" he asked.

She feigned amazement, looking down into her lap and smoothing her hands over her torso. "You mean I'm not?"

"Hardly. You look good."

"If I ate like that every meal I would be, but today's different. " She glanced around the other tables. "Looks like we're the last ones here...do you fancy a walk?"

"Yep. Where to?"

"Just a walk...around - you know. I want to talk about things."

"Right." He picked up the flowers and the present. "Don't forget these."

She took his arm and they walked down the main street of the town, past the little church and the park just beyond it. She was silent for a while and David did not press her, as he sensed that she was gathering her thoughts.

At last she turned to him. "Do you remember the last words I said to you at the hospital?"

"You said 'No, I won't. Not again' ...or something like that."

She nodded. "The doctor had just given me something so I guess over the years I wasn't too sure what I said, but I thought it might have been along those lines. You know I didn't mean it. Is it why you left without saying anything?"

"Partly. I figured you couldn't stay in the town - you'd have to move, and that you wouldn't want me because it would happen again wherever we were."

"But why didn't you say goodbye?"

"Because I loved you."

"That's like saying you rape to save virginity."

David shook his head. "Hardly. I left because I thought everything had happened because of me, and you had been the one to suffer because of it. If I hadn't seen you naked in the bathroom...if I hadn't done what I did, you wouldn't have been hurt. I knew you couldn't stay there, and I knew that if we stayed together it would happen all over again. I thought it was better to go, to spare you the pain of having to tell me to go."

Jen nodded. "I was angry with you for a long time, but I finally figured that out." She was quiet for a few minutes. "And how do you feel now?"

"I've thought about you every single day we have been apart."

She smiled. "Every day? That's a lot of days."

"Yep. Well, every day except for Thursdays and Sundays, when I had a couple of tarts visit me at home...and Mondays and Wednesdays when I stayed over at the nurse's accommodation block near me."

"So that left Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays to think of me?"

"Yeah. Except Friday was my fishing day, and on Saturdays I usually had a hangover." He laughed. "So Tuesdays I thought of you. That's still nearly 600 days."

"Wow. I'm really flattered. It didn't answer the question though, David. How do you feel about us now?"

" I was nervous about today, Jen - not at the thought of seeing you again, but at the thought that we might not be able to connect...you know, that time might have changed us both and we really would be strangers." He squeezed her arm. "But it wasn't like that. For me at least the connection is still there - it was as if those empty years had never happened." He paused for a moment, aware that her grey eyes were watching him with that peculiar intensity he remembered. "So, to answer your question - I feel good about us. I feel..." he struggled for words "...as if I've come home."

She stopped walking and regarded him, a long searching look, and then she reached a decision. "Speaking of home," she said, "here is mine. Would you come in for a few minutes, David? We could have another coffee, or something."

They were stood at the gate of a little cottage on the outskirts of the village. He looked at her in surprise. "You live here?"

"Yes. It's very modest, I'm afraid, and I'm only renting. I couldn't afford much."

He opened the gate and ushered her though. "Speaking of money, you probably don't know you have about half a million in a savings account I set up for you."

She stared at him. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Mum's house. For some reason her will was made out to me, not to both of us. I guess she was a traditionalist at heart. I initially rented it, just to keep it going whilst I sorted things out...and a year or two later I got an unsolicited offer of a ridiculously low price." He glanced at her. "Like, it was such a ridiculous offer it made me wonder why anyone would even bother to ask. Anyway, I did a bit of research and found it was a property developer buying up big in the street...wanting to build new townhouses, trying to get a cheap deal. So I hung out until it was the very last second and got twice the market price." He laughed. " I couldn't find you to tell you, so I set up an account with your share in it and did a bit of investing. It's there when you want it, but you'll need to speak to the Trustee."

"But you did all the work, David. I shouldn't get all of that."

"It was the only thing of value Mum had - of course half of it is yours. I just got lucky with the price."

Jen opened the door to the house and they went in, through the narrow hallway and into the little kitchen. She opened the cupboard to fetch the cups, wondering why she had invited him in, not knowing how this would progress, or even if she should.

David sat on one of the kitchen chairs, and he looked around. "This is just like Mum's kitchen," he said, and he looked at his sister and longed to be back there with her - to capture all that they had lost, even if it was only for a day.

Jen turned towards him with the crockery in her hands. She hadn't made the connection with her mother's house, but he was right - it had the same outlook and furnishings and atmosphere. She saw that the sun was streaming in through the window to fall on the figure of her brother, and she perceived an expression of desperate longing on his face. Her mind tumbled back to another time, when David was sitting in that kitchen the morning after their first night together, and their mother had just left to go shopping. She remembered the motes of dust hovering in the sunlight and the glints of red and copper in his hair, and the way his skin was burnished to a marvelous gold in its light; and she recalled how she had run to him on long bare legs with her heart bursting with love.

And in that instant of time Jen realised that everything was the same and eleven long years of their lives had been wasted because neither of them had found the energy or courage to capture what they had lost. The emotional walls that she had carefully built crumbled in a second and she was swamped by an irrepressible need to hold him again, to be one with him.

She dropped the cups and they shattered on the floor as she ran to him, holding his face, pressing his lips to his startled mouth. She was seized by a wild recklessness - to abandon the safe and cloistered existence she had built and to live again, to laugh and to weep and to take her chances in the crazy tumbling circus of love; and if it happened to be with her brother then so be it, for the rest of her life was too short to waste a single moment more.

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