Double Exposure Read Online Free PDF Page A

appreciate it. She’s a good girl, bro. And good girls never do anything on the first date. The second date, on the other hand …’
    He slides the grip tighter, until he has Cain in a headlock. A short struggle and they are lying on the floor, laughing and staring up at the ceiling.
    â€˜It’s late. You staying the night?’
    Cain looks at his watch.
    â€˜Might as well.’
    He sits up, serious suddenly.
    â€˜She is amazing, isn’t she?’
    Chris rolls onto his side, looking up. ‘Yeah, bro. She is. So don’t blow it.’

Six
All the gory details
    14 December 2002
    â€˜Bitch!’ he shouts, and raises his hand, fist clenched.
    T.J. flinches against the wall, but the expected blow doesn’t fall. He has her trapped in the corner of the room, and with her eyes closed she can smell her own fear gathering like a cloud in the cramped space between the walls.
    â€˜Ian, don’t!’ The plea is little more than a whisper as she shrinks in anticipation, but he is already backing away, turning unsteadily and mumbling to himself.
    â€˜Bloody stuck-up bitch …’
    She slides down the wall, crouching with her spine against the corner, her arms folded protectively over her swollen belly.
    No more …
    The words sound in her mind and she is not sure if she has uttered them aloud. Then he turns back, and she knows she has.
    â€˜What did you say?’
    Slowly she stands, facing him but saying nothing. Something inside her has changed; a tidal shift in the pit of her stomach. She feels calmer, controlled almost, and it must show in her face, because he hesitates.
    â€˜Well?’ he mutters, uncertainly.
    â€˜Well, what?’ she replies, holding his eye.
    A flash of anger, then confusion. He has never seen her like this.
    â€˜What did you bloody say?’
    Another pause, longer this time, as she gauges his reaction.
    â€˜Nothing. Why would I bother saying anything to you?’
    He advances towards her, but this time she stands her ground.
    â€˜What are you going to do now? Hit me again? Kill the baby? Big man!’
    A raw nerve.
    He steps back and his fist unclenches. The confusion returns, as if he is struggling to clear the angry fog from his brain. He stares down at her stomach, then back into her eyes. And in them he sees himself reflected.
    She pushes past him, heading for the door. He makes no attempt to stop her.
    â€˜Where are you going?’ The fury has dissipated and he looks drained.
    She stops and looks back at him, her eyes like diamonds. Sparkling with tears, but hard. And cold.
    â€˜What’s it to you?’
    As the door slams, he sinks to his knees.
    â€˜I love you,’ he whispers to the blank wood.
    *
    â€˜Finished.’
    T.J. pulls the material away from the raised foot of the sewing machine, cutting the thread with her teeth. She holds up the dress and her mother looks around from feeding the boy.
    An approving nod.
    Over the years they have developed a technique of virtually wordless communication, a comfortable, almost telepathic understanding that sometimes allows a whole day to go by with barely a handful of actual words passing between them. It is as if they save all their words for Ty, who lives his life bathed in a sea of stories and songs and the arcane doggerel of nursery rhymes.
    As she knots off the loose threads, her mother turns back to her task. Ty is watching the TV over her right shoulder and the spoon is accepted without resistance or particular interest.
    â€˜Ian rang this morning.’
    The words register subconsciously before she processes their meaning and the thread snaps as her reflex pulls too hard through the action of knotting.
    T.J. looks up again, but her mother’s gaze is still fixed on the boy’s face.
    â€˜He didn’t say anything at first, just hung there on the line, breathing. He was drunk. Or worse. Even when he finally spoke, I couldn’t make much sense of what he