Burnt (20 page)

Women often came here with zero confidence, and many with zero life skills other than keeping themselves and their children alive. But providing a safe environment – for some, the first place they'd
ever
felt truly safe – was so incredibly satisfying. A large part of Rebecca's job was offering emotional support, someone to listen to them and encourage them to take the next step back out into the world. After the frustration of watching so many of these women pass through the health system, unable to do anything for them, it was satisfying for Rebecca to see something positive for a change.

The phone on the desk rang as she came back to the office. ‘Hello, Rebecca speaking,' she said, sliding into her seat, reaching for a pen, ready for anything from an urgent intake request to a crisis call from the hotline the centre provided to the wider community.

‘I'm looking for my wife,' a rough male voice followed her greeting. ‘I know she called this number yesterday.'

Rebecca gripped the phone a little tighter when she realised this was a potentially volatile conversation.

‘I don't know who you are, but I got a fair idea you know where she is.'

‘I'm afraid I can't give you any information, sir,' she said calmly.

‘Look, I just need to find her. I did something stupid, but she knows I love her. I just need to talk to her, to tell her.'

Rebecca knew this guy was currently in
pursuit phase
, commonly referred to as the
buy back,
where he was actively trying to make up for previous bad behaviour. She'd seen many a woman's resolve crumple at this stage of the violence cycle, which inevitably led to a period of relative harmony if the woman returned … before it started all over again down the track. ‘I'm sorry …'

‘Her name's Raylene. She's done this before, you know, run off to a refuge.' The man on the end of the phone was rapidly losing patience; frustration at losing control over his wife was making him more agitated by the minute.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed at the mention of Raylene's name. She'd spent some time earlier with the woman and her small child who had come in the previous day. Rebecca hadn't been able to get much out of her; it usually took a while before the women here felt comfortable enough to let others get close. But what she'd been able to learn from conducting a health assessment of the woman upon admission the night before was that she was currently nursing two broken ribs and had recently suffered a miscarriage. Her abdomen still showed varying shades of bruising shaped suspiciously like the imprint of a man's boot.

‘I'm not aware of anyone by that name; however I'll leave a message that you called and if someone knows anything, they'll call you back.'

‘Put her on the bloody phone!'

Rebecca disconnected the call without further comment and gave a sigh. She had to let Raylene know that her husband had called looking for her; it was important to allow the women to make their own decisions, even at the risk of them returning to the men who could cause such terrible amounts of fear and suffering. It was sometimes a long and dangerous road before they finally managed to break free of the control their men had over them. When Rebecca delivered the message, a look of terror flashed across the woman's face. ‘I told him I didn't know of anyone by that name,' Rebecca quickly reassured her. ‘You're safe here, Raylene. He can't hurt you here.'

‘You don't know him,' she whispered, and the broken expression she wore broke Rebecca's heart.

A loud buzz broke the silence of the office shortly after midnight and Rebecca jumped, staring at the monitor where a large man stood, jabbing at the call button angrily.

It was the downside of a small community; in the city, a place like this could be absorbed into its surroundings, blending in, nondescript and unassuming. Here, it wasn't difficult to find somewhere if you asked around. Rebecca didn't hesitate, pressing the duress alarm to notify the police. Any man showing up here unannounced was a potential threat.

‘I know she's in there.' His words were slightly slurred, suggesting he'd been drinking and confirming Rebecca's initial assessment that this was the man she'd been speaking to earlier. She leaned against the edge of her desk, arms folded tightly across her chest as she watched the monitor screen and waited anxiously for the police to arrive.

The man looked up suddenly, and Rebecca had to force herself not to flinch when he moved in close to the camera. ‘I'm gonna find you, bitch.'

A cold finger of dread ran along her spine at his words.

‘No one turns my wife against me and gets away with it,' he vowed.

Within minutes, bright headlights swept across the screen behind him and she watched as two police officers walked towards the drunken man. At their approach, he held up a dark bottle, waving it around before taking something from his pocket. ‘I swear I'll set this goddamn place alight if you don't send her out,' he yelled tipping liquid from the bottle on to the ground around him and waving a lighter around wildly.

The police handled the situation with remarkable calm, ordering him to place the items on the ground and lie down. For a moment Rebecca wasn't sure he was going to comply, and she held her breath at the tense standoff that ensued. After what seemed an eternity, the man finally lowered the bottle, staggering slightly before complying with the officer's forceful demands to get on the ground, and it was all over. The incident had shaken her, and it was a relief when the director came down to help deal with the incident report. It drove home the severity of the emotional abuse women like Raylene lived with on a daily basis, as well as the potential life-threatening danger that was always there, lurking in the shadows.

Hours later, when Rebecca lay in her bed trying to sleep after her shift, she could still see those eyes, inches away from the camera, boring into her own.

Cold, empty, dead eyes that had promised revenge.

Rebecca struggled to unlock the back door as she balanced the multitude of shopping bags cutting off the blood supply to her fingertips. Lugging the groceries inside, she let out a low moan as the bottom of one of the bags ripped open and tin cans clunked across the kitchen floor.

If she just closed her eyes and counted to ten, when she opened them again, magically all the groceries would be put away, a hot cup of coffee would be sitting on the table waiting for her and her house would be clean and tidy … eight … nine … ten …

Rebecca opened her eyes and exhaled slowly as she was confronted with a bench full of groceries to unpack, dishes to put into the dishwasher and a washing machine full of laundry ready to be hung on the line. So much for wishful thinking.

She hadn't allowed herself time to dwell on the
Days of Our Lives
–type drama that seemed to comprise her ongoing skirmish with Seb. The girls had returned not long after Seb had left, racing inside and barely pausing to greet her before disappearing into their bedrooms to cram clothing into their backpacks as per their father's instructions. Within minutes, they were zooming back through the front door, obviously having been given a time limit to pack. Matthew remained in his car, clearly still fuming over the earlier altercation.

After fielding the phone call from her parents, who had given her much the same response that Seb had delivered over Matthew's behaviour, she had been happy to just lie in a hot bath that evening with a glass of wine and try to forget the whole horrible day.

On Sunday afternoon, she'd heard the car pull up out the front. She'd been half expecting Matthew to call from the city and announce that he'd decided to take them home with him, so it was with a surge of overwhelming relief that she quickly blinked away tears and walked outside to greet them.

He hadn't bothered getting out of the car, had barely even looked at her, just waved to the girls and told them to be good, before driving off and leaving the two sad faces staring down the road after him.

Gut-wrenching guilt had threatened to overwhelm her as it always did when she saw how hard it was on her children to watch one parent drive away. In her heart, she knew leaving had been the right decision for her, but had it been the right thing for her kids? There was so much to worry about. If she'd remained in a loveless marriage, wouldn't that have been equally detrimental to them? If she'd stayed, would that have told them it was okay to
not
have your own opinion, or make any of your own decisions? Would they be soured by the divorce when it came time for them to start thinking about relationships of their own? What if they went on to choose men who were dominating, like their father, living in relationships where they were controlled and talked down to? Could she have lived with herself if her daughters repeated her mistakes? You were damned if you did and damned if you didn't.

She'd ushered the girls inside for a bath and bed. All she could really do was give plenty of cuddles and make sure they always knew they were loved, and hope she hadn't screwed them up too much in the process.

As she pulled the groceries from the bags, a rhythmic banging noise registered somewhere in the house and she paused to listen. When it became too annoying to stand any longer, she closed the pantry door and went in search of the mysterious sound.

The
thump
,
thump
,
thump
grew louder as she made her way down the hall towards the girls' room. Thinking they'd left one of their toys switched on in the morning before they left for school, she opened the bedroom door with an irritated sigh, only to freeze in the doorway.

She always made sure she locked the doors and windows when she went out, but the window in the girls' room had been left open. The curtains blew around in a crazy dance as she eyed the window with a puzzled frown. The noise was coming from the timber slat blinds banging against the top of the window, and she crossed the room to wrestle the old timber frame back down. An unsettling prickling sensation crept up her back. She never opened this window; it was too hard to push the damn thing up and down, and she hadn't got around to asking the real estate agent to get someone to have a look at it. It was doubtful the kids had been able to push it up either. So how did it come to be open?

Her gaze flew around the room, searching for anything out of place. Spinning on her heel, she ran back to the lounge room, discovering the TV and the DVD player and the computer all still in their original places, and felt slightly better. At least they hadn't been burgled – unless she'd disturbed them when she'd come home. Fear snaked back through her at the thought that someone might still be hiding in her house, watching her right now …

Grabbing her keys from the bench, she ran back into the kitchen, snagging her handbag on the way and leaving without bothering to search the house properly or lock the door behind her.

She called the police station from her car. Wanting to make sure no one snuck away once she left the house, she parked a short distance down the street to wait anxiously. When the police officers arrived, she parked in the driveway and waited for them to go inside and take a look around.

Sitting in her car with the doors locked, she felt like an idiot as the young policeman approached, coming to a stop by the driver's-side door. She wound the window down and stared at him expectantly.

‘There's no sign of anyone in there now, but I'd like you to come in with me and take a good look around just to make sure there's nothing missing.'

With shaking legs, Rebecca got out of her car and followed the police officer down the driveway and inside her house. Feeling better now that she knew no one was hiding in wait for her, she went through each room and checked all their possessions were still intact. With nothing missing, and no sign of tampering, even on the open window, it was put down to, at worst, an interrupted break and enter or, more likely, an overlooked open window.

Thanking the officers, Rebecca locked the door behind them but couldn't shake the feeling that it had been more than just a window left open, despite what they seemed to think. She was certain she hadn't even opened the damn thing since the first few days in the house, once she realised the old frame stuck. She certainly never left her children's windows unlocked day or night; it was something she'd been overly conscious of after living in the city for so many years. Nope, something was definitely not right.

First the phone calls, then the stranger in the car and now the possible break-in; maybe it was just someone's sick idea of a joke – a bit of entertainment. Maybe it wasn't. An image of Raylene's husband flashed though her mind and she felt ill. She didn't know who was behind it all, but she would not risk her children being caught up in it. Half an hour later, she'd arranged with her ex-husband for the girls to come down to spend the school holidays with him and asked her parents if they'd drive them down. She felt better once all the arrangements had been made, but wouldn't be entirely relieved until she knew her children and family were away from it all. Thank god it was only a few days until the end of the term.

Seb threw the bale of wire into the back of the paddock basher and whistled for the dogs. They came bounding out of the trees, dripping and muddy after an afternoon spent exploring the banks of the creek, leaving him to sweat his arse off as he fixed the wire on the fence that the neighbour's bull had knocked down the night before.

He was still angry at Bec. Damn it, why couldn't she just leave well enough alone? This was why he avoided relationships. For some unknown reason, women seemed to think he needed saving from himself. The few who were too stubborn – or just too plain stupid – to heed his warnings about backing off were told in no uncertain terms that his heart was off-limits and that was usually the end of that.

Until now, he'd liked his relationships uncomplicated. If he had been the robot that some had suggested he was over the years, he wouldn't need the hassle of a woman in his life at all. But he wasn't a machine. He still needed the touch of a woman from time to time. Needed to feel the soft comfort only a willing woman could supply. What he
didn't
need was any of them trying to worm their way into his head and heart. Those places were no-go zones. His head was owned by his job. His heart – well, that was owned by something else, something he never let himself think about too much … until he came back home and found Bec.