Deleilah Page 3

  “I don’t own anything else,” Dee replied, her pleasant expression welded onto her lips.

  “Bloody hell!” he snapped, storming across the kitchen in filthy work boots. Dee waited as fear budded in her chest, his overt reaction unexpected. One of Harvey’s workers gave her a wistful, sympathetic smile as he left the villa, closing the door behind him. She heard him muttering to his two colleagues outside, tones of misgiving which made her swallow rapid, inadequate breaths.

  “Here! I’m late now!” Harvey tossed a pair of worn trousers at her feet without looking at her. A tatty tee shirt landed on top. He pointed at the muddy tracks across the tiles and down the hallway and stabbed a finger into her face. “Clear that up and then come out and help. This isn’t a holiday camp. If you come from a farm, you’ll know how it goes.”

  Dee fingered the clothing as the front door clicked shut again, contemplating running but unable to work out the logistics. The day looked set to be hot and long, the farm operated in the middle of nowhere and escaping on foot seemed foolhardy and dangerous. “You stupid woman,” she hissed through her teeth. With no landline or reception for her phone, she’d got herself trapped.

  The pattern continued throughout the week and Dee’s workload increased until she felt more unpaid worker than house guest. Harvey rose before four in the morning and did the first round of milking with his men, expecting breakfast on the table for them all by the time they returned. He offered neither threats nor praise but his tone betrayed a latent inner anger which had the potential for eruption when pushed. Dee didn’t push.

  As she turned the key in her bedroom door for the fourth night, she wondered how long she could ply him with alcohol and excuses and get away with it. Loneliness had once again plunged her into danger, tossing her from a life of abandonment into a gingerbread house manned by a wicked warlock who wanted to eat her.

  Alarm bells sounded clear and long in her frightened brain and she kept the bedroom door key in her bra during the day to stop Harvey removing it. His irritation at her locking herself in at night grew more evident as the week progressed and she became terrified he’d find a way of preventing the door barring his advances. By the fifth day, she knew it was time to leave and planned out her exodus to the last detail.

  When she appeared in the kitchen in the filthy work trousers, which fitted a tall male but hung to her frame using an expensive belt ruined on the first day, Harvey seemed oddly relaxed. He sent the workmen out to do their jobs without him, waiting with something like excited anticipation.

  “You can have a day off,” he said, sounding like a king showing mercy instead of a host turned prison guard. The affable blonde man from their few dates returned as sunshine on a cloudy day. “We can go out this weekend, if you want. I’ll show you the town.” He chewed his lip in thought. “I’m stressed at the moment with work but I’m glad you came; you’ve been a great help.” He reached for her fingers and Dee forced herself not to flinch, the words bi-polar and psychotic going round on a loop in her brain as he rubbed a strong thumb over the top of her hand.

  She broke the connection and moved to sit at the table, disappointment turning down her lips as her plan of escape drifted on the wind. “That’s good,” she said. “I don’t feel well today so I’m pleased to skip work.” She stressed the last word in the hope he’d remember he invited her for a break but his face registered no such nicety.

  “You’ll be right,” he said without feeling, his mind already elsewhere. “It’ll be nothing.” He glanced up. “Don’t get comfy. I want toast and egg and don’t break the bloody yolk today. We’ll do something special tonight.” He threw in the latter promise as though Dee should be grateful and she replied with a watery smile tinged with fear. The ‘something special’ held overtures she didn’t wish to contemplate; the thought of Harvey touching her increasing her heart rate in a bad way. She knew she didn’t fancy him before she climbed into his vehicle, her mind casting backwards to a memory which seemed months away, but at least she’d liked him. Even that concession no longer existed.

  “I’ve been patient,” he crooned. Dee jumped as Harvey appeared behind her, kissing the back of her neck and oblivious to the shiver of revolt which stormed through her veins. “You knew I wanted you; that’s why you agreed to come here.”

  “No.” Dee put assertiveness into her tone as she stood and backed away. Her spine bumped his nose and retribution flared in Harvey’s eyes as he squeezed it between thumb and forefinger.

  “I told you I wasn’t ready for a relationship and you agreed it was fine.” Her bum met the edge of the table and panic blossomed at having nowhere left to go.

  Harvey narrowed his eyes, blonde brows meeting in an angry line. “You never said that.” His teeth gritted, making his voice sound halting and jagged.

  “I definitely did!” Dee argued, anger at her foolishness making her blood boil. “I wouldn’t have come here if I knew you couldn’t respect that.”

  Harvey observed her through slitted eyes, appraising her slender figure in the awful attire. She watched pornographic images flit across his face and knew he’d be nasty in bed. Her stomach roiled as she clutched it, acknowledging a very real danger which she’d foolishly placated. “We’ll see,” he said.

  By lunchtime, Harvey’s excitement reached fever pitch and he oozed danger in a way that made Dee want to run screaming through the mountains to the main road, holding up her work pants in white-knuckled fingers. Preoccupation distracted him and offered Dee temporary safety from both his orders and advances. A dust cloud heralded the arrival of a visitor and Harvey’s eyes flashed, his fists balling and releasing as he paced around the classical kitchen.

  “Is that the dairy truck coming back?” Dee asked, wondering if she dared corner the driver and ask for help.

  Harvey sneered and shook his head. “They’ve been, you stupid woman!” He grabbed her around the back of the neck and yanked her face forward, planting a rough kiss on her forehead. “No wonder Hanover ditched you,” he said with spite, “dumb blondes, aye.”

  Harvey left the front door open as he shoved his feet in his boots and clattered down the porch steps. Dee watched from the window as a farm vehicle lumbered along the driveway, towing a horse float behind it. She darted a look back at the door to the bedrooms, wondering if she should bring her packed suitcase into the kitchen and beg the driver for help, but as the vehicle’s front door opened and the visitor climbed out, her complexion paled to the colour of ash and she shook her head, the plan abandoned.

  The newcomer stretched his legs and pressed his hands behind his neck. A cowboy hat sat on dark, loosely curled hair and the open-necked shirt revealed a dusting of black hair on his chest. At over six feet tall he towered above Harvey, diminishing him in more ways than height. Dee leaned back against the work surface, gripping it in white-knuckled fingers. Then she executed another, more realistic plan and hid under the bed.

  Chapter 7

  Plans and Choices

  Dee hid for so long her whole body went to sleep long before her brain switched off. She found a two-dollar coin and a lonely stiletto, feeling more ridiculous as the hour passed. At first she heard arguing, then neighing and then what sounded like sirens. The wailing two tones drove her from her hiding place, running for the front door and eyeing her suitcase standing sentry by her neat bed as she jogged past.

  Her hand went instantly to her mouth as the visitor sprawled on the ground at Harvey’s feet. His driver’s door remained open, the warning ding on the dashboard still sounding. Running outside in her bare feet, Dee pointed a finger at Harvey. “What did you do?”

  His smile seemed indulgent, an act for the benefit of the ambulance crew. “Nothing, honey,” he said, fixing his arm around her shoulder. “He’s sick, apparently.” He dragged her sideways into his armpit in a show of possession.

  The man being loaded onto the stretcher turned towards Dee, his dark eyes wracked with pain. The hand on his stomach trembled as their eyes met
and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Something passed between them; an old, hidden code which communicated his agony and her distress.

  “Let’s get going then,” the ambulance driver said to his colleague, who slammed the rear doors closed, hiding the patient from view.

  Dee’s heart pounded like a jackhammer and breathing became an issue. She pursed her lips and focussed as Harvey declined the driver’s request to accompany them to the hospital. “I’ll go,” she offered, her voice husky with panic.

  Harvey gave her an affectionate shake and smiled at the ambulance driver. “No, you won’t,” he said, his voice jovial. “You don’t know him and we’ve got things to do.”

  The medic climbed into the front seat of the vehicle and closed his door, shaking loose gravel from the treads of his tyres as he turned the ambulance and left the turning circle, ready to make the five kilometre drive to the main road.

  “What happened?” Dee asked, her eyes wide with fear. Sharp stones bit into the bare soles of her feet.

  “Nothing!” Harvey snapped, his eyes bright. “Now get inside and don’t speak to people unless I say you can.”

  After afternoon milking as she swept the cow shed, Dee cornered one of Harvey’s stockmen and asked what happened to the visitor. Flies buzzed around the cow dung as the man eyed her fearfully and checked around for Harvey’s intimidating presence. Seeing him close the first of many gates the cows would pass through on their way back to their grazing, he leaned in close, bushy eyebrows almost touching Dee’s forehead. “It’s his step brother,” he whispered. “Harvey insisted on buying one of his horses last year and then he rang him last week and told him to come and take her back. Says she’s crap.” The man shook his head. “He’s ruined the poor mare. She’s that scared of him he can’t get near her anymore. His step brother drove down to give him his money back and take the mare away. She’s only good for the glue factory now. There was an argument and Harvey socked him in the stomach. Guy went down like a stone so the boss kicked him a few times while he was in the dirt. When the bloke started spitting blood, Harvey panicked and called the ambos. Now he’s crappin’ himself in case the bloke tells the cops. He beat a guy up before and don’t wanna be locked up this time.”

  Dee swallowed and watched Harvey’s straight back as he banged his boot with a long cane to hurry the cows along. The stockman leaned in again, his stubble tinged with grey and his brown eyes long-suffering but kind. “Get away from him if you can, miss. There’s been plenty like you since I’ve been here. They crawl away from this place like prisoners from Auschwitz. Get out before he hurts you, love.” He bobbed his head up and down and turned away, leaving Dee with blood which ran cold as ice water.

  “Will you help me?” she asked and he shook his head in horror. He made no excuses or apology, avoiding contact with her for the rest of the afternoon.

  Preoccupied with worrying about the cops, Harvey left Dee alone that night. She filched a sharp knife from the kitchen and slept sitting up, the blade clutched in her fingers. The ute and horse float were moved to the side of the driveway at a jaunty angle, more for appearances should the police visit. Try as she might, Dee couldn’t locate the keys without being obvious and drawing attention to herself. She determined to fake sick the next day and steal the ute.

  Chapter 8

  A Desperate Hope

  Harvey didn’t even speak to Dee the next morning, ignoring her pretence of having a stomach upset but eyeing her fake tears with uncharacteristic nervousness. “Don’t touch our bloody food then!” he shouted as she shuffled towards the fridge. “Bugger off! We don’t wanna get sick, silly bitch!”

  Dee escaped to her bedroom and locked herself in, waiting until she heard Harvey and the men leave. She searched the house, examining every drawer she could gain access to, her desperation growing as time passed and the keys evaded her. “I have to get out of here,” she panicked, feeling the walls of captivity close in on her.

  By the time Harvey returned from afternoon milking, fear had menaced Dee to the point where her vomiting was genuine and she hogged her ensuite toilet for the next twenty-four hours, speaking only through the locked bathroom door and offering one-word answers.

  The next day she repeated the exercise, weak and sick from vomiting and starvation, her fingers searching drawers in the kitchen and living rooms without success. Harvey’s bedroom and office remained locked and instinct told her with repeated monotony that the keys were inside.

  “What do ya think’s wrong with ya?” Harvey asked the next afternoon, his tone verging on worried, but descending far too easily into the pain of inconvenience for it to be sincere. “You pregnant?”

  “No!” Dee replied through the door, hiding her irritation by digging her nails into the palms of her hands. Best not to rile him with a snippy reply. “Whatever it is, I caught it here. I hope I don’t infect you.” She heard Harvey take a step back from the door, his socks making a shushing sound on the floorboards. He said nothing, but she sensed him still standing there and her breath caught in her chest. Her eyes flicked to the flimsy lock and she cast around for the trusty knife, clasping it in a shaking hand.

  Harvey swore and Dee heard him run from the room, sliding on the boards in the hall. Curiosity drove at her and she ran awful possibilities through her brain. Fire. Accident. He’d gone for a crowbar to prise the door open. He remembered a spare key.

  It was none of those things and Dee realised that as she heard the arguing emanate from the front of the house. She cracked open the bathroom window, forcing her face between the gap where the protective brace prevented burglars or captive women opening the window too wide. A van with the words ‘Ambulance’ and ‘Shuttle’ emblazoned on its bonnet stood in the turning circle with the engine running. Dee saw the outlines of people inside and the scream for help rose into her mouth, doused by the sight of the visitor descending the steps to the ground.

  “He can’t stay here!” Harvey argued in a loud voice. “I don’t want him. Take him back to hospital.”

  Dee couldn’t see the driver from her small aperture but she heard his indifferent reply. “Not my problem, mate. I was told to take him here, so I have. He’s got paperwork with him in case he collapses and I’ve been asked to make it clear that he’s discharged himself after surgery against medical advice. The surgeon’s angry with him and the nurses say if he gets sick, send him to another hospital.”

  The man looked pale and swayed on his feet, a hand gripping a wad of his shirt above his navel. Dee saw him mouth the word, ‘cops’ and raise a dark eyebrow as Harvey postured, still watching as the blonde man capitulated. The ambulance left and Harvey led the way inside, swearing at his new house guest.

  Dee heard the visitor settle in the room next to her and remained sitting on the bathroom floor, her back resting against the shower cubicle. She planned for part of the night and then slept for the rest, curled up on her duvet next to the toilet.

  If she could make the dark haired man give her a ride to the nearest transport centre, her escape would be complete. If only it was that easy. Getting into a vehicle in close proximity to him was the one thing she never expected to do again in her lifetime. Dee pressed her face into the bunched duvet and sighed. The real and present danger of Harvey Gilroy paled into insignificance next to the threat of the newcomer.

  Chapter 9

  Vaughan

  Dee wiped her wet hands on the front of the apron, her body trembling with the shock of Harvey’s latest onslaught. She eyed the leftover bacon and cringed against the roiling of her stomach as stress induced the dreadful sickness she thought she’d banished. Dee’s fingers shook as she splayed them over her abdomen, pressing away the nausea under her ribs. “What am I doing?” she whispered to herself.

  “I asked myself the same question.”

  Dee whipped around, swiping a dirty spoon onto the kitchen tiles. She swallowed and glanced towards the window, expecting Harvey to return specially to yell at her inc
ompetence again. The tall male leaned against the doorframe wearing only a pair of blue jeans, long bare feet showing beneath the hems. His arms folded across a muscular chest with the familiar tuft of dark hair between his pectorals and his piercing brown eyes cut into Dee from across the room. She gasped. “Vaughan.”

  He stared at her, his eyes narrowing. “Leilah.”

  The childhood name seemed to call from another time, driving the knife deeper into her breast. Her father’s nickname for his tomboy daughter mocked Dee’s ability to take care of herself as an adult, lurching from one disaster to another. She nodded. “You’re Harvey’s stepbrother; I didn’t know.”

  Vaughan exhaled through flared nostrils as though the association irritated him and Dee watched his jaw work through his cheek as he ground his teeth. A wave of pain crossed his face, pinching and distorting his handsome features and he put a hand out to grip the doorframe. Dee’s lips parted in horror. “You’re bleeding!” She pointed at his stomach where four clear wound pads guarded laparoscopic surgical scars and a long red line descended from underneath his belly button and plunged into his jeans. The long wound looked red and angry, oozing beneath its plastic window. Vaughan’s jeans were unzipped, barely hanging on his hips to reveal striped boxer shorts and he looked sick, dangerously sick. “Tell me how I can help?” Dee moved towards him and Vaughan shook his head.

  “He’ll be worse if you talk to me. I bet he’s told you all kinds of crap. I just need to get out of here.” Vaughan staggered towards a dining chair and gripped its wooden back in white-knuckled fingers.