Half Blood (24 page)

Jerry was waiting outside the building; his sunshine-yellow Porsche 911 practically screaming to be stolen. After they were both buckled in, they made their way to Jerry’s childhood home on the outskirts of town.

Turning into the circular drive, the tyres ground on the gravel slowly, pinging against the undercarriage in a random pattern. He pulled up the handbrake gently and turned off the engine.

‘Are you ready for this?’ Jerry asked.

‘Are you?’

He shrugged and popped open his door. Just as Indi reached for hers, the heavy door was pulled open from the other side by one of the butlers on staff at the Beckitt Estate. That’s right. Butlers.

‘Good evening, Miss Indigo.’

‘Manuel, call me Indi, okay?’

Manuel’s dark eyes sparkled when he smiled at her. His shoulder-length hair curled near the ends, making him look a lot younger than he was. His sharp, angular face was buried under a thick growth of five o’clock shadow. He offered Indi his hand to help her from the car.

‘I’m fine, Manuel. Thanks.’

Indi stepped clear of the car and tilted her head back, taking her first look at the house in nearly six whole months. The colonial style house was like a beacon of affluence in the neighbourhood––giving the other houses around it the proverbial bird and guaranteed years of therapy for self-esteem issues as it sat atop the hill. Indi spun around on the spot to get the whole view of the house and the garden. She thought it was strange how she’d forgotten the smallest details like the exact colour of the redbrick, or the size of the rose bushes that grew under the double-hung windows especially after what had happened in there. The garden around them suddenly exploded in light, illuminating the half an acre dedicated solely to the front garden in a thousand twinkling fairy lights. Indi was sure if she looked up that she wouldn’t have been able to see the stars.

An image suddenly seared through her mind, buckling her knees. Gripping the top of the door, her stomach turned in a wave. A huge knot was clenching and unclenching in her stomach and she fought the nausea. Indi drew in deep breaths as fragmented pictures banged around her skull. Sharp images cut behind her eyes. She was haemorrhaging memories; memories of a fight and teeth, violence and blood. They were so real that even when she opened her eyes, she could see them in front of her. It was only after a long, agonising second that her vision cleared, causing her to slump back into the passenger seat, her legs hanging out of the side of the car. Cradling her head in her hands, she waited for the lingering nausea to pass.

‘Jer, I’m fine. I swore I’d never come back here and I’m not planning a second trip, so let’s just get this damn thing over with.’

Jerry watched her for a moment before he stood up, giving her a few moments to herself. Something warm trickled down from her nose, and when she wiped the back of her hand across her lip, it came back red. Indi panicked, pulling a tissue from the box hidden in Jerry’s glove box and holding it against the bleed.

Jerry’s head came back into view. ‘Are you coming Ind?’ he asked.

Shoving the tissue behind her back, she smiled. ‘Yeah. I’m coming.’ She slid from the car, shutting the door with her hip. Together, they walked up the porch steps; Indi running her hands along the huge granite columns that lined the portico.

‘Indi, you look a little pale.’ Jerry’s hand went to her forehead. ‘You feel a little hot too.’ Sliding out from his touch, she frowned at him. ‘Okay. I promise I won’t ask again,’ he added.

Jerry turned around, facing the over-sized mahogany panelled door, and knocked three times. The vibrations of the sound echoed in the giant foyer they were yet to have admittance to. Half a minute later, the door opened. Eric––The Beckitt’s most trusted valet––was wearing a crisp-looking black suit with tails.

‘Master Jerry, Miss Indigo. Welcome,’ he said cordially, making some grand gesture to allow them entry. Jerry took the first cautious step in. It took Indi a few more minutes though. She had to put her big girl panties on and say a prayer that she’d keep the lid on her already simmering anger.

Barb was waiting for them in the grand entrance. Perched on the last step of the huge spiral staircase, she was dressed in a white, diaphanous gown that seemed to flow like water around her body. She moved as if her feet weren’t even touching the ground.

That was the thing with Barb; she had grace to spare and made everything look effortless. Tonight was the one exception to that grace. She managed to jostle her arm as she took her last step off the stairs. With a pinched expression, Indi delighted in the flash of pain on her face before Barb smoothed it back to warm arrogance.

‘Jerry, Indi, I’m so glad you’re here,’ she said with sincerity; Indi just wasn’t sure that Barb was addressing her when she said it. ‘Shall we go into the sitting room for some canapés?’ Barb glided past them, laying a gentle hand on her son’s arm as she passed. Indi closed her eyes to stop her anger from flaring, but as she did, she heard Jerry’s heart quicken in his chest at her touch. Jerry trailed after his mother and Indi stalked after them both.

The sitting room had always been Indi’s favourite room. The walls were the colour of the forest––a green so warm and so deep that she thought that she was eye-deep in leaves. The windows were dressed in the same forest green––the curtains a soft, heavy velvet. The two overstuffed couches in the centre of the room were a paler green with fat cushions laying lazily in the corners. The chestnut coffee table sat in the middle of a cream and burgundy rug set between the sofas. At one end of the rug was a white wing chair, and behind that was the six-foot wide, granite fireplace.

Along the top of the mantel were pictures of Jerry growing up. There was only one photo of Indi. It was of her and Jerry in the swimming pool together on one hot summer’s day. His strawberry-blond hair was cut short––looking more strawberry than blond. With his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his head rested on top of her head. Indi’s tight-lipped grin dripped with beads of water from the pool, her hands resting on his. Jerry looked so happy. Indi almost looked happy, but she noticed—for the first time ever perhaps—just how haunted her eyes looked.

‘Won’t you sit down?’ Barb said. Indi turned around, finding Barb sitting in the wing chair.

‘I’m good,’ Indi replied, but Jerry took a seat on the sofa adjacent to his mother. Eric came in then, carefully balancing a silver platter on his palm. Three flutes of champagne sparkled in the light of the overhead chandelier. Attending to Barb first, Eric circled the room and came to Jerry. Eventually his attention turned to Indi, but she refused the drink.

‘Thank you Eric,’ Barb said, placing her good hand on his wrist as he placed some canapés onto the chestnut coffee table. He nodded reverently to her before whisking out of the room like a ghost. Barb’s steel-blue eyes gravitated to Indi, who was now standing behind Jerry so she could keep an eye on the threat.

‘I didn’t think that you’d actually come.’

‘Surprise,’ Indi replied darkly.

‘How’s your arm, mother?’ Jerry interrupted. Barb’s cold eyes went to her son, her face softening just a little. She looked down at the sling across her chest and forced a smile. ‘It’s uncomfortable.’

‘Not that I care, but were you hit by a poor person with a shopping trolley or something?’

Barb placed her champagne flute down onto a napkin on the table, methodically judging the exact centre of the paper. Indi could practically see Barb’s loathing for her. ‘Mark and I were in town looking for a new suit for him. We crossed the road to get a coffee, and as we were crossing the road this car ran the red light and ploughed straight into me. Well, at least that’s what I’ve been told. It happened all too fast for me to remember correctly,’ she said calmly as if she were reciting her shopping list to someone else. Jerry had retreated in on himself, trying to hold his emotions from his face, but was failing miserably. Indi could see the self-blame even though there was nothing he could have done to stop it. ‘The last thing I remember was Mark cradling my head in his lap with a phone to his ear. I woke up in the hospital later, told that I had had surgery to find the source of the internal bleeding,’ she said calmly. There were no hysterics, but truth be told, Indi had never seen Barb become hysterical over anything … well, except that one time. Barb pierced Indi with another hard stare. ‘I heard you died? Is that true?’ Barb asked in response.

‘Sorry to disappoint you, but no,’ Indi replied coolly.

Jerry took her hand in his; squeezing it gently. She looked down at their joined hands and thought it was as if his giant hands would swallow hers completely. There was something comforting about that––letting the one man she trusted wholly with her life to take her completely and know that he’d look after her.

Indi glanced at Barb when she sensed someone’s blood pressure escalating—another crazy side-effect after waking up in hospital. She was sitting completely still in the armchair, her eyes fixed on their display of support and affection. Most people would think she would be touched by this––her son and her not-quite-adopted daughter sharing a special moment––but Indi knew her better than that. A very fine shudder shook the liquid in her glass, betraying her real rage. Eventually she put it down when the champagne threatened to slosh over the sides.

A silence so stifling that Indi thought she’d suffocate in it enveloped the room. On the verge of making small-talk, Eric appeared in the doorway. Barb glanced over at him and nodded.

‘Dinner’s ready,’ she announced, standing up in one gliding motion and walking over towards the archway that led through to the dining room. The fabric of her dress was so sheer that you could see just how great her figure was. Her hips swayed out to the sides like she was dancing to her own slow, erotic drumbeat. Jerry hadn’t let go of Indi’s hand yet, and she didn’t pull away. He needed the touch to help him get through the dinner. And she was starting to think that maybe she did too.

Being back in that room brought everything back for Jerry. It flawed him. Beside him stood Indi, her breath sawing in and out of her lips too quickly. She swayed and only his hand on her arm stopped her from knocking into the dining room table. She gave him a nod to let him know she was okay. He turned back around, taking in the room that haunted him every night.

Nothing had changed. The table was the same; the indentations in the wood hadn’t been repaired and probably never would be. Jerry’s eyes drifted down to the flagstone floor. The rug was gone, replaced. Swallowing down thickly, he remembered what had happened in that very room only six months ago …

The sound of shattering glass had brought Jerry into the living room from the foyer. He was dressed in a Jay Kos suit, something his mother had insisted on. He felt much more comfortable in jeans and a casual shirt. They’d all just returned from his father’s trial. His father had been given a sentence of ten years imprisonment
––
parole in five
––
for sexual assault. His case wasn’t helped when some ex-employees of his came forward with sexual harassment suits against him either.

Indi had been in the living room curled up next to the arm of the couch with a book in her hands. His mother had been in the same room, curled up next to the arm of the couch with palpable animosity in hers. He looked towards the fireplace when the sting of alcohol reached his nostrils. His mother’s whiskey was creeping down the forest-green wallpaper, the glass shattered at the edge of the wall. She was staring with such longing at Indi’s back
––
not because of desire, but with an aggressive need to hurt her.

Indi hadn’t looked up. Her focus was clearly still on her book. It was as if she hadn’t even heard the crack of the crystal. Barb stood up.

‘
Look at me!’ his mother shrieked. Indi continued to ignore her. ‘You did this! You did this to him with your lies!’ Barb spat, her whole body beginning to shake with so much rage.

‘
Mother,’ Jerry said desperately. ‘Please. Don’t do this. It’s not her fault.’

‘
Of course it’s her fault. She put your father in prison!’

‘
He put himself there Barb,’ Indi said without looking up from her book—her voice bored. ‘He did this when he decided to rape me.’

‘
You lying, little tramp! I can’t believe I let you under my roof. I can’t believe I let you get in my son’s ear.’

‘
Jerry can make his own decisions, Barb,’ Indi replied coolly, looking at her from the corner of her eye.

Jerry had to diffuse the situation or his mother was going to say something she would regret later. ‘Mother, why don’t you go into the kitchen and cool off? Maybe get another drink?’ Jerry suggested.

His mother gave him a dark look before she sashayed out of the room. She had changed so much since her father had been arrested. Her and his father didn’t have a perfect marriage, but it was something he could always depend on, something that was solid, something that he knew would always be there. After Indi made a complaint against him, Barb had started victimising her, bullying her, using her passive-aggressive nature to undermine her.

Jerry turned to look at Indi. ‘I’m sorry about her Ind. I think it’s the stress of having to sit through all the evidence and the media and everything.’

‘
It’s fine. She’s threatened to kick me out before. I’ll survive,’ she shrugged.

‘
I don’t want you to survive Indi. I want you to live the life you deserve.’ She’d been kicked out of every home she’d ever had. He was determined not to let that happen to her again. She smiled at him then, the rare smile she gave someone when all her defences were down.