AC05 - Death Mask (2 page)

The guests lined up and Uncle Lionel cleared his throat. Hannah’s sister appeared over the sandhill first. Then he saw his bride escorted by her loser father.

Lurch leant closer. ‘Mate, can you set me up with the sister? You never told me she was that well built.’

Brett had to admit Lurch was right. He could have gone for Dakota’s looks, but she was wilder than Hannah. Dakota was girlfriend material all right, but he had chosen the sort a man could settle down with.

The harpist played the bridal waltz as the party approached. Errant drops threatened the arrival of the storm.

Hannah looked surprised at the celebrant, but didn’t interrupt the ceremony to ask questions. The vows passed quickly and they only stuffed up a couple of lines.

‘You may kiss the bride,’ Uncle Lionel announced, and was followed by a crack of thunder. ‘And then we all might head for shelter.’

The guests were already working their way to the resort’s function centre as the couple’s lips met. The photographer was stuffing around and missed it. Hannah wanted to do it again.

Someone volunteered an umbrella for shots the photographer thought would be atmospheric. More like bullshit, Brett thought. They fluffed around as the sky darkened, posing and repositioning hands, chins and dresses. All Brett could think of was how much he wanted to start celebrating inside with a drink – alcohol they were paying for. Hannah seemed more concerned about the umbrella being a lightning rod, and how her hair would be ruined.

His attempts to explain that, with the amount of gunk and
pins in there, her hair would withstand a nuclear attack didn’t help the situation. Lurch was ogling Dakota and made a remark about the weather helping her nipples come out to play, which Hannah overheard. For his trouble, he was on the receiving end of one of her ice-melting stares. Lurch didn’t mean anything, it was just him paying Dakota a compliment. Besides, her nipples were pretty hard to miss, sticking out of that shiny gold dress.

Hannah’s precise schedule for the day hadn’t taken into account a storm. With droplets multiplying to a heavy downpour, they struggled to smile, pose and capture Hannah’s fairytale image of married bliss. There was little time to mimic the photos she’d plucked from bridal magazines for the photographer’s brief. A few more cracks of thunder and lightning out to sea had them rush for cover.

‘They say rain on a wedding day is lucky. Then this couple must be very blessed,’ Hannah’s father declared as he announced Mr and Mrs Brett Dengate to the reception guests. The group of ninety applauded and whooped, all with glasses in hand.

‘I’m not big on giving advice, not with my track record, but I will say one thing. Brett, if you ever hurt my little girl, I’ll bloody kill you.’ The old man grinned through a missing tooth and raised his glass.

Everyone laughed, except Brett.

* * *

‘Your makeup still looks good,’ Dakota reassured Hannah. ‘Don’t worry about the photos. You can get some upstairs on the verandah at sunset, after the storm passes. They’ll be perfect.’

Hannah kissed her sister’s cheek. ‘You’re the best sister ever. Oh, and you might want to avoid Lurch. I don’t like the way he was looking at you before, and he is kind of …’

‘Sleazy? My slime detector went off the scale when I saw him. You don’t have to worry, I can handle him.’

The groom approached with a glass of champagne for each of them but Hannah was too excited about seeing relatives and friends to drink it. Brett was pulled off in another direction by
his mates and the pair didn’t meet up again until the formal speeches. By that stage most of the buffet had disappeared and Hannah had forgotten to eat, more concerned that the guests were enjoying themselves. Brett seemed edgy and nervous by then, and she suspected his sugars were running low, although he did have a beer in his hand when it came time for him to speak.

‘My wife and I want to thank you all for coming today. As many of you know, marriage is a tough sport and I’m rapt to have Hannah on my team. To my wife.’ They all toasted the bride. He sat down again, but Hannah’s reminder had him on his feet again. ‘Oh yeah, and the bridesmaid looked pretty good too.’

The men cheered again, Lurch louder than anyone, and the women clapped. All except Hannah’s mother, who polished off another glass of wine instead.

Hannah stood up. It wasn’t traditional for the bride to make a speech, but Hannah had read that it was more common these days and she knew Brett wasn’t one to say how he felt in public. ‘I’d like to say something. I’ve always been the nerdy girl, unsporty and uncoordinated, who got teased for always having her head in a book. I thought all sportsmen were Neanderthals.’

Jeers and boos went out, along with some grunting noises. Hannah laughed and used both hands to quieten the response. ‘That was, of course, before I met Brett. He accepts and loves me for who I am. I am so proud to be his wife. We are blessed to know and love you all. The support and loyalty you show is inspirational. Thank you all for coming, and have a wonderful night.’

‘We love you too,’ a drunken male voice called from the back. The crowd laughed.

The four hours passed in a blur and the weather turned to a balmy evening with a soothing sea breeze. The reception room emptied as many of the guests moved on. Hannah looked down at her dress, the hem muddied from the wet sand, and torn where someone had stood on it sometime after the speeches. It might as well have been the clock striking midnight on Cinderella’s
big night. She doubted the stains would come out, so dreams of passing it on to her unborn daughter disappeared. Gifts sat piled on a trestle table beside half-eaten cake. Her mother was asleep in a chair by the wall.

Dakota appeared by her side. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after all this. A few garbage bags and some elbow grease, this place will be spotless in no time. And I’ll make sure Mum gets to bed.’

Hannah was beyond feeling embarrassed by her mother. She thanked her sister again. ‘Where’s everyone going?’

‘Some of Brett’s mates are pretty tanked. They’ve been partying hard. I overheard one boasting how they have big plans later in one of the rooms. Just hope they don’t keep us awake all night with the noise.’

Lurch appeared then with two glasses of wine in his hand. ‘Here you are, ladies, a drink to say thanks for a great night.’ He made a point of giving the one in his right hand to Dakota, despite her being closer to his left side. Hannah had never felt comfortable around Lurch, there was something about him that unnerved her. She felt guilty about thinking badly of him, today of all days, so she took the drink and the sisters toasted to wedded bliss.

Hannah’s father came over to the girls to say his goodbyes.

‘Don’t worry about your mother, it won’t be the first time I’ve put her to bed.’ He seemed resigned. ‘You have a good night,’ he said, hugging them both. ‘I couldn’t be more proud.’

Brett came over and kissed his bride on the back of her neck. ‘If you’ll excuse us, we have some married business to attend to.’ He lifted a startled Hannah, empty glass still in hand, and carried her out the glass doors, along the path and across the threshold of their suite door.

Brett opened a bottle of champagne and refilled his wife’s glass while she locked the sliding door and closed the floral curtain. After a few sips she felt tired and struggled to stay awake. She must have underestimated the stress of organising the wedding day. She asked him for a diet cola from the bar, something with caffeine in it.

Brett ignored the request, unzipped the back of her dress and laid her face up on the bed. He kissed her cheeks and lips before lowering his mouth to her breasts. She tingled all over with the sensation, and the anticipation.

‘We don’t have much time,’ he said, lowering himself on top of her.

Hannah felt him push between her legs then the force of him inside her. ‘It’s hurting,’ she tried to say, but his mouth was covering hers, his tongue sticking in and out as he thrusted. Suddenly he let out a moan and it was all over.

Brett rolled over, got up and kissed her forehead.

‘Sleep well and you’ll never know.’

His eyes ran all over her naked body. Her breasts looked smaller than they felt, but her skin was almost velvety against the white sheets. The tuft of hair was darker than the hair on her head. He felt himself aroused again and reached down to suck on her nipples. He’d waited so long. The sight of the clock by the bed stopped him. Shit! It was time and he’d be back soon enough.

He covered her bare flesh with the sheet and stroked her eyelids to make sure she wouldn’t wake up.

He dressed and left via the sliding door. The wind gusted and buffeted the curtains in and out of the opening.

Hannah slipped deeper into unconsciousness …

‘Y
our 10 am appointment rang to say they’re running late trying to find somewhere to park,’ the receptionist said through the intercom.

‘Thanks.’ Doctor Anya Crichton wasn’t looking forward to this meeting but was trying to keep an open mind. Still, no wonder they were late – hospital parking was an oxymoron. Planners failed to consider that most people attending the sexual assault unit were not in a fit state to catch public transport, nor were they likely to be brought by ambulance.

She checked her watch and took the opportunity to glance over the file one more time.

Hannah Dengate, twenty-eight years old, had presented to her general practitioner in distress, three weeks after marrying her boyfriend of twelve months. Investigations and testing revealed two different sexually transmitted infections. Testing of the husband failed to detect either infection.

The GP had asked Anya to see the couple and attempt to determine how only one of the pair had become infected, after supposed monogamy. Anya’s first reaction had been disbelief at the doctor’s naïvety. Hannah had to have had sexual relations with another man or men. However, the GP knew the patient from church and believed that Hannah had not
been unfaithful. Two gynaecologists had failed to share this view.

This sexual assault unit was set up to deal with forensic medicine, not infidelity, but Anya had given in to the pleas of the GP. She wasn’t sure how the meeting would go; she just hoped it would be quick and straightforward. Faced with the evidence and two, possibly three expert opinions, Hannah would surely have to stop the charade and come clean.

When the couple finally arrived Anya greeted them in the foyer. Hannah extended one hand and held on to the arm of her husband with the other.

‘Thank you so much for agreeing to see us, Doctor. We’re really hoping you can help sort all this out.’

Slightly overweight, the woman was dressed in a plain shirt and tailored trousers. Her hair was pulled back off her makeup-free face into a tight bun, with slight darkening at the roots. It had probably been coloured for the wedding. On her feet were flat black ballet shoes, worn at the toes. This woman dressed for comfort, not to attract attention. She had an almost childlike innocence about her.

‘This is my husband, Brett.’

The man wore jeans and a buttoned shirt with rolled-up sleeves; he stood with his hands in his pockets. The stale smell of tobacco leached from his clothes.

‘Is this going to take long? We’ve already seen two specialists who said the same thing.’

Hannah tightened the grip on his arm.

‘Honey, we talked about this. Doctor Crichton might have seen something like this before, in her … particular field. I’ve been praying she can help us.’

The front door opened and one of the counsellors entered. Anya didn’t want to have this discussion in a public area.

‘Please come through. We can chat in private.’

The three walked along the corridor into a room with a double lounge facing two armchairs. In the middle was a coffee table, with a box of tissues in easy reach. The pair sat together,
Hannah more forward, knees together, still clinging to her husband.

Anya sat opposite with the folder on her lap. She decided to start with something safe, like the woman’s medical history.

‘I see that your past health has been good. Have you had any operations?’

Hannah exhaled. ‘No, I’ve rarely seen a doctor apart from the usual childhood coughs and colds. I’ve never had a filling, and I don’t have wisdom teeth either. The dentist X-rayed me and apparently they’re not even there.’

Brett squeezed her hand and she stopped speaking.

Anya smiled sympathetically. ‘Any family history of medical problems?’

‘Not that we know of.’

‘Can I ask when you had your last pap smear?’

The infections could have been old and flared due to stress. A previous gynaecological exam may have picked something up.

Hannah flicked a glance at her husband. ‘I was told I didn’t need one.’

Anya raised her eyebrows.

‘I was told I should have one a year after we had sex. We took a vow of purity and didn’t have sex until our wedding night, six weeks ago now.’

‘What about before you pledged purity?’

Hannah touched the crucifix around her neck. ‘I’ve always wanted to save myself for the man I married. That probably sounds old-fashioned, but my parents divorced and I wanted to make sure that didn’t happen to me.’

Brett began to shift in his seat. ‘I had girlfriends, and got around a bit … you know … before we got together.’

Anya was beginning to wonder whether Hannah was a great liar or in total denial that she had been unfaithful. Something made her uncomfortable about the whole story. Two sexually transmitted infections within weeks of getting married, with no previous sexual contact?

Brett could have carried the infections from previous partners, but he had tested negative on two separate occasions.

One option was that Hannah had been assaulted and not told anyone. Anya needed to speak with her alone.

Brett didn’t hesitate when she suggested he go for a cigarette whilst she talked to Hannah by herself.

‘Please help me,’ Hannah implored, tears rolling down her face. ‘I’m going mad trying to understand how this happened. Brett’s been amazing and says he knows I wouldn’t have slept with anyone else. Did I get it from a public toilet seat? At someone else’s house? On a bus? What other explanation could there be?’