Dark Country (31 page)

He hesitated, reluctant, the desire for immediate action showing in his clenched jaw and arms.

More people had arrived, standing around gawking at the four attackers, and at Megan. Johnno Dawson berated and argued with
Steve while Joy, still in her dainty ball dress, wept beside her sons.

Kris had to go and help Steve and Adam keep things under control until backup came and they could move the lads out of there
and send them into Birraga for questioning and probable charges.

‘I’ll ask Beth to take Megan home, and stay with her until I can get there,’ she told Gil. ‘Do you want to go with them, or
do you want to wait at the pub? Beth or Doc Russell should be able to patch you up, if you go with them.’

‘I’ll go with her.’

‘Megan heard Sean,’ she warned him. ‘She asked me about you, whether it was true. Are you ready for that?’

‘No,’ he said bluntly. But he walked across the grass to his daughter, anyway.

She stood for a few seconds and watched him go. Then she gave herself a mental shake and went to deal with four drunken louts
and their irate parents, and a crowd that might just as easily side with the lads as with the police.

It was a strange walk, that half block down the quiet street from the school to the Russells’ large house, set back from the
road in a couple of acres of garden gone wild. Megan walked between Beth and him, and none of them spoke until they’d reached
the gate in the stone wall. After Megan opened the gate for them, she paused, fidgeting with the latch.

‘Gil … what Sean said … Is he right? Are you my father?’

For all he’d known it was coming, the question still hit him hard, made him feel as if the ground beneath him had turned to
quicksand. Answering it meant either lying, or taking a path through the quicksand he could never turn from. He couldn’t lie.
He glanced for help, for guidance from Beth, but she’d wandered a short distance away, and was carefully studying a flower
she couldn’t see properly in the dark.

‘Yeah, it sure seems that way.’ He tried for casual, but the tightness in his throat made it sound strained. ‘Dates match
up. You might want to do the DNA thing, but looking in the mirror’s probably almost as convincing.’

‘Do you … do you mind?’

‘Mind?’
He didn’t understand what she meant, at first.

‘The grands wanted a sweet little girl,’ she said in a rush, ‘and instead they got me, their worst nightmare.’

‘Jesus.’ How was he supposed to respond to that? He didn’t do this stuff. Personal stuff. He had no frigging clue how to deal
with it, with her and his own damned inadequacies. He hunted through his head for words that could explain. Honest words that
she could trust. ‘Look, mate, I’m still trying to get used to this whole idea. But yes, I mind that I never knew, until yesterday.
I mind that I got Barb into trouble, when I never meant to. And I mind – in fact, it’s really starting to piss me off – that
I’ll always have to wonder what you were like as a little kid, that I didn’t get to watch you grow up. But as far as minding
that you’re who you are, well, if I can ever properly get my head around the idea that I’m a father and you’re my …’ he almost
said ‘kid’, but swallowed it and made himself use the
other
word
, ‘my daughter, then I reckon I’ll feel proud of who you are, and glad that you’re not some obnoxious teenage brat.’

He blew out a breath as he finished, instinctively looked around for some kind of escape. Over by the rose bush, out of Megan’s
line of sight, Beth gave him a thumbs-up sign.

Megan smiled up at him, a genuine, warm smile, her eyes sparkling.

So, he’d managed to navigate the first five minutes of parenthood without totally screwing up. Now he just had to keep doing
it for the rest of his life, however long that would be.

Ahead of them, the veranda lights switched on, and a moment later a series of lights illuminated the semi-circular gravel
driveway.

‘Who’s out there? Is that you, girl?’ the old man’s voice called.

‘Yes, Grandfather, it’s me.’ Megan began to walk briskly up the driveway, Beth by her side.

Gil followed more slowly. Better to let Beth explain the attack on Megan first, before he explained … well, himself, and why
he was here, and that he’d brought danger to Megan and that he had to see her safe.

He’d be the last person Doctor and Mrs Russell would want to see. Even if they didn’t know – if Barbara had never told them
who’d fathered her baby – it wouldn’t make much difference. Edward Russell hated him on principle, with all the vehemence
of a self-righteous social and moral superior, and had done his best to ensure Gil’s conviction, well before Barb could have
known that she was pregnant.

The man stood in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick, while Beth walked up the steps, her arm around Megan’s shoulder.
Gil caught a glimpse of movement in the background, Esther Russell, presumably, who’d always hovered behind her husband.

‘Doctor Russell, Mrs Russell, Kris Matthews asked me to bring Megan home. Unfortunately, there’s been an incident.’

There was little sign of the old, shy Beth in her calm, professional manner and concise explanation.

‘Gil Gillespie heard the attack, and fought the men off,’ Beth said. ‘It’s likely he saved Megan from a much more serious
assault.’

‘Morgan Gillespie?’ Doc Russell almost spat the name. ‘I heard the criminal was back in town.’

Gil stepped up on to the veranda and faced the doctor. ‘Yes, I am back.’ He’d have argued the ‘criminal’ point, but in a ripped,
blood-soaked black T-shirt and with a two-day growth of beard, he fitted the image too well. He probably should have cleaned
up first, although chances were it wouldn’t make much difference.

Closer, now, he saw that the doctor hadn’t aged well. Under the woollen dressing gown, he seemed frail, and the walking stick
a necessary aide rather than an affectation. Even with its support, he seemed unsteady. But his opinions hadn’t mellowed,
despite the frailness of his body.

‘You stay out of my house. I won’t have vermin in here.’

‘But Grandfather, you can’t,’ Megan protested. ‘Gil’s my father.’

The old man stared at him for long seconds, his face twisting with rage. ‘You?’ he bellowed.

Gil deflected the blow from the walking stick with his forearm, pain cracking along it and up to his shoulder.

Beth moved quickly, taking the stick with one hand, gripping the doctor’s arm with the other, both to steady him and restrain
him. Esther came forward to put an arm around her husband, shooting an apologetic look at Gil.

‘Perhaps we should go inside,’ Beth suggested in a firm, polite tone that made it an order, rather than a suggestion. As the
doctor started to object, she spoke over him. ‘I’m sure you don’t want this discussion taking place on the doorstep where
all the neighbours can hear.’

The implied threat worked. The doctor turned his back on them and stomped inside. Esther smiled at Beth, and at Gil, somewhat
nervously. ‘Please, come in, Beth, Gil. You prefer “Gil” to “Morgan”?’

‘Yeah–yes. Thank you.’ As surreal as the courtesies seemed under the circumstances, he found it impossible to contemplate
being ill-mannered to the delicate elderly woman.

‘Gil sustained some injuries protecting Megan,’ Beth told her. ‘I was hoping we could use your bathroom to clean him up? And
I think perhaps Megan could do with a soothing hot drink?’

‘Thanks,’ he muttered to Beth when Esther showed them into a guest bathroom, and produced facecloths, towels and a first-aid
box from the cupboard, before she hurried off to make hot chocolate.

‘This will give the doc a few minutes to cool down,’ Beth said. ‘I’m sure you could have him charged with assault, if you
wanted to.’

‘Jesus, no.’ He took his T-shirt off, with some pain in his shoulder, and waved at his chest. ‘I can do this myself.’

She gave his chest a quick, professionally detached look to confirm his assertion, and left him to it.

He took his time. The cut on his shoulder was only a couple of inches long; the one on his chest about six inches. They both
stung like hell when he washed the blood away with warm soapy water, and stung again when he applied antiseptic. But they
weren’t deep, and they’d stopped bleeding. He washed out his T-shirt in the basin, watching the dirty water swirl away,
rinsing it again, then wringing it out as hard as he could before he pulled it back on, damp.

He had no more reasons to delay.

And he still had no clue how he was going to explain that he needed to take Megan away to safety, tonight.

‘Come in, Kris,’ Esther said with a determined brightness. ‘We’re just having hot chocolates. Good for calming the nerves.
Would you like, one, too?’

Inside, in the living room with its beautiful, worn décor, the strain was obvious. From his wing-backed armchair, Edward Russell
dominated the group, disapproval radiating from him as he glared at Gil, just entering the room. Beth and Megan sat on a brocade
couch one would never dare to curl up on, sipping from delicate china tea cups.

And on the ornate timber mantelpiece, a large portrait of Barbara, in her university graduation gown and cap, watched over
all of them, her smile not making it to her eyes.

The grandfather clock in the corner sounded a single sonorous chime. One in the morning, and Kris wanted to be anywhere else
but here.

Gil shot her a silent plea for help.

‘We have a problem,’ she said, as soon as she’d confirmed that Megan was okay. ‘The police have reason to believe that Gil’s
safety may be in danger.’ Edward’s
‘hrmph’
conveyed satisfaction rather than any degree of sympathy.

‘Due to the unfortunate incident earlier, the relationship between Gil and Megan is now public knowledge. This
means, Megan, that we now have some concerns for your safety, too.’

Entering the room with another cup, Esther gasped. ‘Oh my goodness.’

Edward growled and muttered something about criminals, but Gil just said quietly to Megan, ‘I’m sorry, mate.’ She smiled back
at him, slightly nervous, but trusting.

‘I’ve spoken with Detective Sergeant Steve Fraser’ – Kris mentioned Steve as a deliberate tactic for dealing with the chauvinistic
doctor – ‘who will be here shortly, and we believe that it would be prudent to move Megan to a secure location until this
threat is resolved.’

‘Are you suggesting I can’t look after my granddaughter?’

Of course you can’t
, Kris answered silently. Barely mobile even with the aid of a walking stick, the man could be no match for the average thug.
But she noted he referred to Megan as his granddaughter – he’d not done that in her hearing before – and figured that underneath
the bluster and the defiant male pride, he did care about the girl.

‘I know that you would do your best to protect her,’ she said tactfully, ‘but we do feel, at this time, that it would be safer
for all of you if Megan was elsewhere.’

‘But you can’t take her away,’ Esther protested. ‘She’s just a girl.’

‘I’m seventeen, Gran,’ Megan said gently.

‘We hope it would not be for long, Mrs Russell,’ Kris assured her. Just days, she hoped, but that was being optimistic. It
might take longer than that. People sometimes spent months in safe houses, even longer. Months without contact with their
families and friends. At least Megan wasn’t a witness, waiting to testify. She could return home as soon as the immediate
threat was over.

‘Go and pack some things, hon. We need to be quick. We’d like to get you out of here and well on the way before it gets light.
Perhaps you would help her, Mrs Russell?’

That got Esther doing something useful, and avoided her questions, but the doctor sat in his chair, clearly fuming, and Gil
still lurked in the doorway, the energy between them positively fiery.

‘Who’s going to chaperone her?’ Edward barked. ‘And if you think that cur’s going with her, then she’s staying here.’

Kris held up a hand to silence Gil. ‘Appropriate arrangements will be made for Megan’s care and wellbeing, Doctor Russell.
You have my word on that.’

What they’d be yet, she didn’t know. Her quick conversation with Steve after they’d seen off the police van with the arrested
men hadn’t covered any details.

Lights swept up the driveway, and Beth answered the door, letting Steve in. His masculine presence – and he played it just
right – took the wind out of some of the doctor’s doubt and hostility.

Kris’s phone rang and she excused herself, leaving Steve to continue appeasing the old man. She wasn’t surprised that Gil
followed her out on to the veranda. Her conversation with Adam was brief and to the point. He was with Deb and Liam at the
hotel, and she asked him to stay with them until she got there.

As soon as she’d disconnected Gil spoke insistently, ‘No police safe house, Blue. It’s too risky. I’ll look after her and
the other two myself.’

‘And that’s
not
risky?’

‘There’s no bureaucracy. In the police system, too many people know. The information can leak.’