10 comments/  44080 views/  17 favorites

Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 01

By: JAScooter



The dimly lit bar was smoky, huge, well organized and over-crowded with tables full of happy, boisterous people dressed for their 'Friday Night' drinks and socializing.

Obviously, a popular meeting place in the Sydney Hyatt, the room was a constantly moving kaleidoscope of suits and skirts as late arrivals sought seats. Busy waiters dashed back and forth while friends mingled between tables.

The noise was deafening, even without the music from the large band. 

Those couples on the handkerchief sized dance floor were taking the excuse of dancing to grope one other. Like disturbed ants, the couples continually moved from group to group, touching antennae to establish personal relationships in the seething nest.  

Leaning against the bar in a quiet corner three men, conspicuous in their own company took no notice whatsoever of the activities around them. Two, white-collar workers, were dressed in expensive, smartly tailored business suits. A blue-collar worker, dressed in jeans and open necked shirt, dwarfed them although they, also, were burly men. 

"Hey Peter, time for another drink. Are you going to have a beer this time or stick with the lime and soda? Be brave have a Fosters!" They addressed this bear of a man as Peter and good-naturedly teased him about not touching alcohol. 

In the furthest corner of the room sitting at a table were three attractive young women -- an unusual group as no men approached them. One seemed most ill at ease. The noticeable antics of the older bosses pulling their young secretaries hard against their bodies did not amuse her. 

Another, Karen Wilson, crunching an ice cube, snapped at the redheaded woman with her. "Look Jennifer, lighten up. I don't want to pay for my drinks all evening!" 

Her companions called her Jennifer and did everything to make certain her first night out with them would be enjoyable.

`I hate this.' Jennifer Blake sighed. `There must be a better way to meet people.' She was unhappy. 

This young lawyer, newly arrived from Melbourne to manage the Legal Department of an insurance company in Sydney, was homesick. Her high academic qualifications did nothing to ease the ache in her heart for her usual Friday night on the farm with her mother, father and twin brother -- aggravating pest though he was. She was missing the music, the warmth and the security of her family.

"How gross!" Her thoughts were vocal now.

"What was that?"

"I'm sorry, Karen." Jennifer replied. "The noise in here is deafening. What was it you said?"

"You'll get used to it. Isn't it delightful here? Aren't you glad you came?" Karen leaned towards Jennifer but her blue eyes searched the crowd. She tossed her head and tugged her blouse down over her breasts as she spoke. 

Jennifer noticed her perfectly manicured nails.

She knew that Karen and Ruth, two secretaries at the insurance company, were delighted that she, as the new Legal Department head, had accepted their invitation. They had brought her here for a so-called relaxing drink. Of course, they hoped that they would finish the night with dates, and prayed that Jennifer who had proven so stiff and unbending with men would join in the evening's fun. 

"Well, I agreed to come and..." Jennifer did not bother to continue. Karen wasn't interested in her answer and Jennifer doubted that she was even listening. The idea that Karen was looking for someone in particular occurred to her.

Realizing she was out of her depth even in such shallow waters, she tried to be friendly.

"How do you manage to keep your nails so long with all the work you do on a keyboard?" Jennifer consciously raised her voice over the din, trying to relax with her two new friends.

"Oh, these are false. Ruth fixed them for me," explained Karen.

Defensively, Jennifer dropped her hands to her lap as if to hide them. 

"My nail polish always seems to get chipped. I look after my nails but I have to keep them short, and bright nail polish just looks wrong on them." 

Bringing one hand up and holding her fingers out for their inspection, Jennifer added ruefully, "I just can't seem to do all my work and have beautiful nails."

Karen and Ruth started an involved conversation on the new season's nail colors and Jennifer couldn't help thinking of how ill at ease she felt in these surroundings. However, everyone else in the room appeared happy.

As she listened to snatches of conversation from surrounding tables, she envied the smiling faces. Drinking for the sake of drinking seemed to be the prevailing interest, with small talk, flirtations, wandering eyes and wandering hands the norm. Off-color jokes and sexual innuendoes floated in the air. It wasn't her scene in the first place, but right now, her attitude made her even more isolated. 

As she cast a look around the room at the groups of drinkers, all engrossed in their own self-importance, she became aware that someone was watching her. She felt herself under the surveillance of a ruggedly handsome young man standing at the bar, his gaze locked onto her in a most unnerving manner. 

Quickly looking away, she focused her attention on her two companions. 

"Have you been to Melbourne?" she inquired brightly.

"No, but we've been to the Gold Coast," they responded as one.

"Who'd want to go to Melbourne," teased Karen. "No sun there. We're beach bunnies."

Ruth, coming to the rescue, showed some interest. "What's the social life like there? Same as here?"

"Well, perhaps, but..." Jennifer didn't want to offend her two companions. They were doing their best to be friendly. 

"I haven't been here long enough to compare. We have many good little restaurants down there and most of them have musical entertainment. There are bridge parties, tennis competitions and..." Her voice trailed away.

Karen interrupted with a shill shriek of derision. 

"Bridge? Who plays Bridge? No wonder the boys think you're..." 

"Different," Ruth interjected, looking severely at Karen who blushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," Karen added, trying to repair their friendship. "I didn't mean... well, I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Jennifer smiled, acknowledging Ruth's attempt to be diplomatic. 

"Thank you. I know the men around the office call me the Ice Maiden. Well, at least, that's one of their polite terms."

"You know!" squealed Karen.

"Let's change the subject," said Ruth. "Have you noticed Bob and his mates at the bar?"

"Oh, are they?" Excitedly Karen swung around to look. 

Automatically, Jennifer followed her gaze. 

"He's here," breathed Karen. 

Jennifer looked - towards the bar -- towards those same two eyes still boring into her from across the room. Bob? Was that Bob? The one in casuals, she wondered. She lowered her eyes. The man must surely be looking at Karen.

"As if you're surprised!" Ruth exclaimed cynically. "Isn't Bob the reason you wanted to come here?"

Now Karen was completely composed. 

"Yes," she confided. "And if I can make him come over here with his friends, do your best to play along. I really like him."

"Well, I consider Ted's a heart throb, so it's all right with me," added Ruth. "You can bring Ted over for me." 

Karen began an animated and detailed account of her last encounter with Bob. As she primped and posed, demonstrating each part of her story with exaggerated gestures, Jennifer could see that Karen's body-hugging pale blue dress with its revealing neckline accentuated her fluffy prettiness. She had already noticed how men's eyes roved in Karen's direction and clearly, this was part of the attraction for Ruth to be her best friend.

Ruth was plain, but smart. Her nose was unfortunately a little large and her dark features heavy, with eyebrows plucked to a thin line, but expert make-up and a good hairdresser had achieved a chic appearance. With her ultra fashionable, avant-garde, red and black outfit, she presented an attractive image. Friendship with Karen would bring men to spare for Ruth.

Jennifer's thoughts strayed to the sounds in her stomach, rumbling because she'd skipped lunch. Her mind told her that she was hungry. Then her thoughts fluctuated between wishing she were at home with a good book and wanting to be here meeting someone new. Although she was naturally reticent, she considered that she'd like to become friends with a good man who could talk sensibly and wouldn't rush her. 

Looking across at the bar again, Jennifer noticed that the man with 'the eyes' was now in conversation with his companions. This gave her an opportunity to study him. Those two eyes belonged to an interesting face. However there they were, studying her again. For a fraction of a second Jennifer allowed her eyes to linger, then quickly turned away to watch Ruth and Karen who were engrossed in a giggling, secretive conversation. 

Appearing to become confused, the man in the casual clothing dropped his gaze. 

Over at the bar, Peter O'Brien sipped his drink, a fresh lime and soda. As usual, he'd turned down all offers of alcohol, but he always made sure he shouted the others, no matter what they ordered. With his friends occupied discussing the details of their latest stock purchases, he felt free to survey the scene. 

That magnificent young woman he'd been studying caught him staring. How could he meet her? Surprised at his own reaction he knew he was usually at a loss in female company, but now he found his mind concentrating on that face, the face of the girl with the auburn hair sweeping down over her shoulders. 

"Well, is the car finished yet?" Ted was interrupting Peter's thoughts, his pleasant voice now anxious and insistent. He'd invested a lot in his new toy. "Will it be ready for Sunday's race?"

His thoughts still on the girl, Peter was slow to respond. He turned to Ted.

"The car's done and will finish the race if Bob doesn't red-line it trying to fly." 

Peter grinned at them, knowing that over the years Bob had proved a most considerate driver, babying the cars, always knowing there'd be more than one race in a season.

Ted -- rich Ted -- was content to reap the benefits from advertising and to supply the cars, allowing Peter to reign as engineer, rarely ordering Bob and Peter about even though he had sole rights to the machinery.

"What do you suppose our chances will be?" Really, Bob was more interested in the beer at his elbow than the forthcoming race. To him it was merely a Sunday drive. "Will the car be competitive?"

"Sure will. Just take it steady. No dancing with the barriers or other cars and you'll give everyone a shock." 

Peter was confident in his workmanship. His engineering degree, so difficult to earn, and his hard work preparing the car had born fruit, but for some reason now, he seemed to have lost enthusiasm for it. Needing a break, he had joined Bob and Ted at their usual Friday night watering hole just to get away from the constant grind of work. 

While the others talked about tactics, his eyes returned to the young woman across the room but he hastily looked away again as she seemed to be studying him intently this time. To cover his confusion, he turned back to make a comment to his friends. Instead, he heard his thoughts coming from his mouth. 

"Who's the red-head?" he asked. 

Peter was shocked at himself. Even at this distance, the beautiful girl had broken through his reserve and he couldn't believe how easily he had dropped his guard.

"Where?" Bob interrupted his discussion of race strategies.

"Over there," Peter nodded with his head, "Sitting with two of the secretaries from your office."

"With Karen and Ruth?" The added need in Peter's voice aroused Ted's interest. His normal matter-of-fact accountant's voice became animated. "She's certainly a stunner. That auburn hair tells me she's red-hot."

"Give it away, you two. She's beautiful if you like that sort of woman. Under that black suit and hiding behind that heart-shaped face of hers is an iceberg." Bob gave them the benefit of his knowledge. 

"Forget her," he continued, "That's Jennifer Blake. She's just arrived from our Melbourne Office to run our legal branch. Believe me, there's more life in a customer's long term insurance policy than there is in her. She's a typical lawyer, the original Ice Maiden, beautiful but frozen. I even phoned people, in the Melbourne Office, and they verified the fact." 

Turning back to his beer, he resumed his conversation with Ted.

"That reminds me, Ted. You should call in at Peter's workshop to check his books more often. After all, you are his accountant." Bob leaned back against the bar. "Last week, I was there to assess the damage to a client's car and met a gorgeous little blonde who was gushing all over Peter. You'd have assumed she'd have more sense. Boy was she stacked! Her car wasn't finished so I offered her a lift as any gentleman would." Bob laughed at his own joke. "There's nothing like a grateful, older woman." 

Peter had heard Bob's endless stories of his conquests -- same old story with different players. As they all followed such a similar pattern, he seriously doubted their truth. Surely, these accounts of his success with women were a figment of his imagination. What was his problem? 

Unwilling to listen to another blow-by-blow description, Peter deliberately turned his head. Once more, he stared across the room at the girl still seated there. He prayed that she wouldn't catch him studying her again, 

From the time she'd first drifted past the bar with her two friends she had gained his attention. As he observed her walking to the table, he had appreciated the swing of her hips and her long tapering legs. Her severely tailored business suit had not hidden her delicate figure. When she sat, modestly she smoothed her skirt to conceal the view of her thighs.

Bob guffawed suddenly, crashing into his friend's thoughts. He turned to Peter and gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs. 

"Steady on, mate. You're panting and almost foaming at the mouth. Take your eyes off Jennifer." He placed another lime soda at Peter's elbow. "You're staring so hard you'll frighten the poor girl. Any time now, you'll rip your shirt off and start beating your chest like a bull gorilla. Give it away. You're wasting your time." He called the barman and ordered a new round.

"Believe me," he continued, "An old square like you has no chance. When a 'smoothie' like me can't even get a date, what chance do you have? That girl has a heart of stone." He paused and looked across the room. "My God, if only she could read your thoughts. Give it away."

"Don't judge me by yourself," Peter retorted angrily, stung by Bob's assessment. 

So they genuinely assumed he was an old square, unsuccessful with women -- yes, he was that -- always. He was just so awkward in their presence. He knew that he didn't have the glibness of Bob or the quiet authority of Ted. His intense attitude often frightened women away or they ridiculed him because of his quick anger and jealousy. He was painfully aware that he was a boy who'd grown into a man unable to express his feelings easily with no family love to guide him. The heinous trauma, that was his early life, controlled his social behavior with women. 

Peter was withdrawing into his shell but still had enough fire for one last shot.

"Just because you didn't ultimately manage to make her drop into your hands doesn't mean a gentleman like me -- someone with a few manners -- will have no success." 

Bob and Ted roared.

They couldn't accept that Peter was a sensitive, well-mannered man. To Ted, Peter was the struggling owner of a panel shop whose business partner had been killed in an accident and whose ledgers were often covered in greasy fingerprints. 

Bob, as an insurance assessor, knew Peter as the overall-clad worker whose quotes for repairs were mostly accurate.

In truth, Ted and Bob had no knowledge of their friend's background. Peter had been extremely careful to conceal the width of his business interests and the scope of his wealth. Neither friend knew that he owned Ted's company in addition to the BMW dealership beside his panel shop, as well as being the majority shareholder in Bob's multinational insurance company. 

They had often wondered about his early life but made no inquiries, as it was obvious Peter would say nothing. They'd tried many times previously, but they'd learned that such inquiries were most unwelcome. They knew nothing of his horrendous life as a child in the Malaysian Jungle and nothing of his education in the east. There was no suspicion in their minds of his degrees in Mechanical and Electrical Engineering and in Psychology or even his rank as Major. 

The men had all been friends since Peter had returned to Sydney four years previously. They not only played tennis together and belonged to the same club, but also worked as a team racing cars.

Peter had arrived in Australia from the East knowing he could no longer be an outcast -- a loner immersed in the academic world. He had met his friends when he opened his workshop and the three had forged a strong bond of friendship at both work and play. Ted became the workshop's accountant and Bob was the insurance assessor who visited the workshop when necessary.

Their laughter stung Peter.

"She's got too much class. You two make me sick always bragging about your prowess and success with women." Peter's eyes were red with anger and his two friends backed away. "Now a girl is frigid because she turned Bob down. What rot! The fact of the matter is she has excellent taste."

"Steady on. Let's not argue." Bob, always cocky and considering himself as the modern Don Juan, was contrite.

"Don't let's get so hot under the collar over women. They're simply not worth it." Ted added his ideas to calm the situation. "Hey, time for another round of drinks. It's your shout, Peter. You know you couldn't shout even if a shark grabbed you. Open your wallet and let the moths out. Come on, buy us a drink and stop staring at Jennifer. You'll terrify the poor wench."

Beginning to look threatening, Peter straightened. They both knew he rarely drank alcohol.

Ted changed the topic quickly. "What limits are you placing on the motor this weekend? We don't want old lead-foot here blowing it up." 

"He can push the car as hard as he likes. The motor will take all he can dish out."

They were friends again as they discussed the coming Sunday races. Peter could only think how strangely mismatched they were - Bob, the insurance man, suave, charming and in his own estimation a skirt chaser -Ted the accountant, rich by inheritance, scholarly in looks and so quiet - and himself, the lumbering, useless, extremely dangerous bear, full of jealousy and so easily angered. A man whose family history was shrouded in secrecy which he jealously guarded and whose academic achievements hid behind a bamboo wall. Neither of his friends knew of the reasons for his inability to cope with females and his face either could be the inscrutable mask of the east or reflect his quick anger. His friends had no idea of his true financial worth or of his academic successes. 

Yet they were still friends. There did almost everything together. 

"How was business this week, Peter? No rain... no crashes... so you didn't make the usual million." Bob sipped his beer.

"You're right. It has been quiet but this morning a very strange thing happened. A brand new, top of the range, Mercedes arrived. As if attacked with an iron bar both headlights were smashed. The owner was a squat, revolting toad of a man who limped into the office." Peter laughed. "God, he was the Australian version of Al Capone."

Ted and Bob were enjoying the story but it was the truth.

"He was wearing a black hat pulled down to the top of his sunglasses and his black overcoat was pulled up to his ears."


Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 01



"An overcoat in this weather?" Bob was incredulous. 

"I nearly laughed, he was so comical with those big ears sticking out from his head but when I asked him if it was an insurance claim, the malicious look on his face took all the laughter out of me." 

Peter continued, "His exact words were, `No, not insurance and the boys who did this have no further use for insurance either. I hope their life assurance policies are paid up.' His vicious laugh was positively malevolent. He tossed a wad of notes onto the bonnet and when I said it was impossible, he merely tossed a second equally large wad of notes to join the first and snarled 'Not enough eh?' His last words as his bullyboys in their car drove him off, were 'Four o'clock sharp.' There was over sixteen thousand dollars on the bonnet and he treated it like Monopoly Money."

"Who was he?" Ted had joined the conversation.

"No idea," Peter explained, "but there was a gun strapped to the steering column and the man who came to pick up the car was so blonde and beautiful that I could only think of him as 'Pretty Boy'." 

Behind the poker face he had assumed, Peter knew that this customer was trouble with a capital 'T'. He had spent far too many childhood years under the influence of such characters not to recognize this creature for what he was.

"That's business you don't want." was Ted's dry comment. "Sounds like Dingo Ryan and his son." 

Peter wondered what Ted knew as a worried look fleetingly crossed his face. 

"Well, at least my clients are respectable and do the right thing," continued Ted with a laugh before changing the topic. His eyes glittered through his steel-framed spectacles and his boyish face was smiling as he forgot Peter's story and flicked at his immaculate suit where ash had dropped from his pipe. Smiling he continued. 

"You know, the only trouble is you, Peter. You're my greatest problem. You send me work covered in grime. Can't you afford pens now, or don't you care about me, trying to decipher that scribble of yours between daubs of grease and blobs of paint? The account you sent me this week was covered in red paint. Were you trying to show me what color would look good for Sunday?"

"Don't you two do anything but complain?" Peter was annoyed but had slowly maneuvered around them to stand where he could watch that young woman without being obvious. "I'm the only honest worker here. Without me both of you would starve." 

That started the next argument but Peter's mind was across the room. He knew the girls with Jennifer were secretaries at Bob's company, but Jennifer stood apart. He could easily believe she was a lawyer. 

There was something intangibly different about her. Perhaps her laughter was not so shrill or her gaiety so forced. Maybe it was the arrogant way that she held her head or the way she leant forward to sip her drink. Her clothing was certainly different. She was not out to impress or draw men's eyes. Her skirt was not short nor was her neckline so daring that everything was there to ogle. 

No wonder Bob thought her frigid. She was different and no matter what was making her stand apart, Peter knew he had to meet her. 

He noted that no males approached the three women to ask for a dance and he wondered why. Perhaps it was Jennifer's bearing and the fact she was looking uncomfortable in such surroundings.

"Hey. Have you gone to sleep? Ted asked you a question." Bob recalled him into the conversation.

"I'm sorry, Ted. What was it you were saying?" Peter had not been listening. His mind was across the room. 

"What time are we collecting you and the car on Sunday? Practice starts at eight o'clock and Bob will need every minute possible with the car before the first race." Ted's patient tones were warm. He knew what had drawn Peter's attention. He almost took a fatherly interest in Peter although their ages were so close.

Bob turned to look at the girls. 

"Look, you'll get nothing for your efforts from her." He was doing his best to warn Peter but Peter wouldn't listen.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, pull yourself together." Ted tried to help. "If only you could see the look on your face, Peter." He tapped his pipe into the ashtray and Peter knew it would be his last one for the night. "Bob and I are off to the trots. What about grabbing a quick bite of Chinese and coming with us? I was given three red hot tips that are certainties." 

Peter knew Ted was interested in gambling and had money to spare. Bob always went with him but Peter doubted if either made a fortune. He didn't gamble himself -- all his gambling had been with people's lives in the first sixteen years of his life and he had not been successful then. He did not intend to gamble any further, and until tonight, he had always managed to find an excuse not to join them. 

"I don't think we'll get any sense out of him until he meets that girl." Bob chimed in. "Come on you two, grab your glasses and we'll join them." His broad shoulders edged their way through the throng. 

"At least they're from my company so we won't seem too rude. Besides, you both look too respectable this evening for them to recognize the ruffians I know. Ted, straighten your tie, try to control yourself and don't bore us with figures." Leering in the direction of the girls, he licked his lips in anticipation. "The figures we have in mind tonight are not found in your ledgers." 

Had they heard his words or seen his expression, the girls would have fled, shrieking.

"Still, all may not be lost. I'd rather have their company than you two hoboes." Turning to Peter he ordered, "Get that lecherous look out of your eyes and no bad language, either of you. 

"The blonde's Karen. I've heard she's a good sport so she's mine. I don't intend to be cold in bed tonight. Peter wants Jennifer... although heaven only knows why. Therefore, you, Ted, will escort Ruth. 

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Peter. Bet you a dinner and show you don't get far with that little icicle."

Peter towered over Bob as the answer rumbled out.

"Done!"

"Double the bet!" Ted couldn't resist the wager.

"Come on... they won't eat you." Bob tossed the words over his shoulder as he continued on his way. 

Reluctantly Peter followed, hoping his friends wouldn't embarrass him. Somehow, he knew this meeting would be crucial.

Across the room, Jennifer was still furious. Men call me the Ice Maiden, and worse. It makes me almost afraid to have a date again. Just because men take a girl out to a show or dinner, they think they have to be paid. Why should I hop into bed with a complete stranger? Jennifer ended her thoughts. Often they don't even offer a bed. Instead, it is the discomfort of a car -- clumsy and physical -- sheer brute force and selfish lust.

She was angry but, at the same time, she was lonely. Coming out with Karen and Ruth was an experiment to make friends in a new city. She knew that she had to meet new people and that it was only by mixing she had any chance of meeting someone charming.  

Jennifer wanted a man to love and in return to be loved and treasured. That was the difference. It most certainly didn't mean scuffles or wrestling and evading the demands to pay for a night out with her body. 'If men think I am reserved, they are right, no matter the names they provide as an alternative.' 

"Do you mind if we join you?" Bob leant over Karen, placing his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of ownership. "I'd rather have your pretty company than have to listen to these ruffians' complaints about their hard week."

Peter knew he was lucky Bob had made that first approach, as he was aware his own words wouldn't have flowed with such practiced ease. Instead, he would have stuttered and stammered like a mindless oaf. Overridden by his childhood trauma his psychology degrees would not have helped him cope socially.

Unnoticed by Jennifer, Bob and his two mates had arrived at their table and now Peter had caught the full animosity of her thoughts. Looking up defiantly she found herself staring into two piercing blue eyes -- the same blue eyes that had been studying her from across the room. The owner was hovering over her chair and someone was speaking. 

Obviously, he believed she was glaring at him. His handsome, rugged face flushed and he began to apologize for intruding on her night.

'That's polite,' was Jennifer's reaction. 'That's different. How can I explain I wasn't annoyed with him?' She rose to reassure him, but it looked as if she was about to leave. 

Startled, Peter begged her to remain. 

"I'm sorry if we broke up your happy group."

Jennifer was the only one who seemed displeased at their interruption. 

"Tell us if we're intruding and we'll leave."

"You just said you're in no hurry, Jennifer." chimed in Karen. "You agreed." 

Turning to Bob, she leant against him, to touch him in a flagrant gesture of welcome. "We're all free tonight and thought we might go to the pictures." She put her head on Bob's shoulder and her long red fingernails looked like talons as they curved around to stop his departure. "Where are your manners, Bob? Introduce your two friends to Jennifer."

"I'm sorry, Jennifer. This big, uncouth bear is the wild Irishman Peter O'Brien." 

He threw his head back and chuckled at Peter's mortification. 

Peter's blush of embarrassment only brought more hilarity from everyone except Jennifer who, expressionless, stared through Peter. 

"Don't let him lead you into any dark corners or hold those dainty hands of yours." Bob's face emphasized the lechery in his voice and Peter could gladly have throttled him.

Jennifer realized she now knew who had studied her from across the room. Those eyes belonged to Peter. 

Bob's poor attempt at humor did not impress her and Karen, seeing that look cross Bob's face was definitely sharpening her claws. Ignoring the reactions, blithely Bob continued, "The other criminal is Ted."

Jennifer studied the men.

Ted, a gangling, bespectacled young man with lewd eyes and a high-pitched laugh and wearing an immaculate, expensive suit ogled Ruth as he pulled his chair closer to her side and raised her hand to his lips. 

"What would you like to drink, fair one?"

Ruth giggled as she gave her order with pretended modesty. She was no fool but she played along.

Bob was tall, dark and handsome and he knew it. Completely aware of his attractiveness, he flaunted it. Even his voice was seductive and his movements were studied carelessness, but his eyes betrayed him. They were cold and calculating despite the laughter on his face and the hand he'd placed on Karen's shoulder was blatantly laying claim to her. 

Jennifer knew him from the office and repulsed his advances several times. His cultured attractiveness and studied behavior with women did not appeal in any way.

"What'll you have to drink, Jennifer," he asked, "the same as the others?" 

"No, I'll have just a tomato juice please."

"You want tomato juice?" Bob's voice dripped derision. "That's all?"

"With lemon." was Jennifer's sweet reply as she thought she would fix him.

"Don't take any notice," was Peter's comment. "He's only trying to be funny. 

"How do you like Sydney? I suppose you're lonely now. Bob told me you've only just arrived from Melbourne." He faltered and stopped, disconcerted as he realized that he'd inadvertently disclosed that she had been the topic of conversation at the bar.

Actually, Jennifer guessed that he had inquired about her and felt pleased. Giving him her full attention, she felt wary about what he had discovered. She had already noticed that Peter had a friendly face -- pleasant looking -- not overly handsome but certainly not ugly. Although his dark brown hair was rather short, a lock fell partly over his forehead and, as he brushed it back with his hand, he presented a curious self-defensive, boyish attitude. His eyes were two powder blue, sparkling gems that flickered and changed. They were very alert, almost too bright and observant.

Jennifer wondered if he'd noticed that the girls had ordered more expensive, fancy drinks than the ones they had previously drunk. She sat quietly, adding little to the chatter, unaware that beside her Peter was already breathing in her delicate perfume, basking in the warmth of her presence. 

When he had seen her arrive, her long legs, the swing of her hips and her beauty had attracted him, but he had not expected the impact of her closeness. Now her delicate fragrance was urging him to taste. His fingertips tingled as he battled the thought of touching her skin. 

"I'm finding the pace entirely different and the distances within the city enormous." Her answer shook him from his thoughts. 

Suddenly, Peter was looking deep into two emerald eyes of the deepest hue possible. 

"I'll be glad when I take delivery of a new car. That will make travelling easier." 

She was certainly no ordinary worker to be able to afford a new car as well as move so far from home, and Peter almost fell into the trap of rudely questioning her history. The steady gaze from those green eyes unsettled him and minutes of deathly silence followed while he desperately thought of ways to continue.

Eventually he broke the silence between them. "There's a lot of Sydney to explore. I've lived here for a few years and still find a new corner every day."

Suddenly an explosion of noise and movement broke over them. There, in a rowdy Sydney bar, a most extraordinary sight was about to present itself. 

Shrieking and laughing, two beautiful, slender young women who had obviously recognized Peter were pulling him out of his seat and demanding he dance with them. 

Peter groaned aloud trying desperately to deny them but they would have none of his refusals. 

He realized his work at the Westmead Children's Hospital just a few brief weeks before last Christmas had caught up with him. It had taken months of constant rehearsals to finalize the Christmas Party and entertain the children and staff at the Hospital. The children had particularly enjoyed his presence as Santa and the presents he supplied.

As Peter tried to resist, one of the young women rushed across the dance floor to the band to organize the music and returned. Both then linked arms with him in the usual ballet fashion. As the first bars of the Dance of the Little Swans silenced the crowd the three of them stood in a line as if statues, waist to waist, with heads held high and eyes fixed on the same ethereal point somewhere out there over the heads of the people in the bar. The two women so delicate and slim almost coming to Peter's shoulders stood with this big, strong, Irish bear of a man. 

The whole gathering was fascinated. They simply couldn't believe their eyes.

There was a hush as the three danced, weaving their magic over the Friday evening crowd, moving through their paces, so graceful and so familiar with each other as they stepped and swayed as a single body. Then Jennifer gasped as Peter's arms stole around the waists of the two ballerinas, and he raised them off the floor, all the while their six feet keeping time and their heads moving as one. 

The music ended and the applause was deafening. However, it wasn't over yet. One of the ballerinas broke away from the trio to pirouette in isolation then swept back towards Peter who hurled her high into the air, before catching her on one hand above his head as he spun lazily - while the music crashed to a reprise.

Jennifer could hardly believe what she had witnessed in such a place. Never would she have believed that Peter was a ballet dancer.

A gruff voice bellowed out across the dance floor, destroying the magic of the moment.

"Look at that bloody queer! Doesn't know how to use women? Crawl into a hole somewhere you bloody shirt lifter. This place is for men."

Ted's hoarse, quick comment drew Jennifer's attention. 

"Oh, shit! Now there's trouble."

Not deigning to reply Peter slowly walked towards the interjector in a slow, soft, toe-heel shuffle as if he were the Principal Dancer from the Australian Ballet. He beckoned, and an ugly brute exploded onto the floor. Fists flying and red of face, the ruffian, shouting profanities, attacked Peter with no warning.

As the crowd retreated from the scene, women's screams and a thundering of footsteps smashed the silence in the bar. Yet over the hubbub and movement, Jennifer was certain she heard Peter's quiet words to the security guards ring across the room.

"He's mine - call an ambulance."

She gasped and watched a brief flurry of arms and legs as Peter hurled the large man into the air and stood back as he crashed to the floor with a sickening thud. The ruffian screamed as one of his legs seemed to break under him.

Two more burly men - obviously his friends - blasted onto the floor and Jennifer was horrified to see knives glinting in the light as they circled Peter. She heard more screams but she couldn't believe her ears when she heard Peter's roar of laughter as he advised them. 

"Didn't your mothers tell you? Little boys shouldn't play with knives. You'll hurt yourselves." 

He was ready for them.

First, one of them crashed to the floor not to rise again and then the second, until all three lay stretched out senseless. Security removed their bodies and Jennifer was still shaking when she felt the gentlest of hands on her elbow helping her to her feet and a quiet voice speaking to her. 

"How about having a dance to calm us?" 

Almost in a trance, she found herself in the arms of this strange, powerful man, wafting around the floor to the music as he gently guided her through the throng. Too soon, it was over and she found herself once again back at her table. 

"Thank you, Jennifer. I enjoyed that - you're such an accomplished dancer." Peter bent low in a bow as he assisted her back to her seat.

The noise in the bar resumed as though there had been no interruption although Jennifer had thousands of questions to ask Peter. This man who had demolished those thugs was so gentle, so considerate and his voice so soft with her just made her think that this man was so different to any she had ever met. He was dangerous yet so careful with her -- how different -- and yet so considerate.

They sat, and Peter had resumed their conversation when Bob broke into it loudly.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 02



"Ladies! Ted, Peter and I are off for a Chinese meal and then we're going to the trots. Ted has some hot tips so perhaps we can win tonight. Would you like to join us?"

Ignoring Jennifer's coldness and responding to the nods and warmth of Karen and Ruth he continued. "That's settled then. We're going to the trots." 

Noticing Jennifer's expression, Bob quickly added for her benefit, "Harness Racing. First we'll have a Chinese meal and then go to the trots." He made sure everyone knew, so enthusiastically he began to pair everyone off.

Karen had held Jennifer to her promise to spend the evening with them but this was too much. 

Their further planning paused as two uniformed police officers arrived to lead Peter off to a quiet corner where they questioned him about the scuffle. 

When the two officers left, as quietly as they had arrived, the group made their way out of the bar but Jennifer was unimpressed by the planned entertainment. The stiffness with which she held herself and the reluctance with which she allowed Peter to take her arm made that painfully obvious. Her silence was icy. To her surprise, Peter understood.

His consideration for her feelings showed as he leant towards her to ask, "Would you rather not come? I'll drive you home if you prefer. Frankly, trotting is not my scene either. The others have never managed to drag me along before. I've always found an excuse. Tonight will be my first time too."

Astonished, Jennifer found herself becoming interested in Peter. She liked his sensitivity. Of course, it could be his stock-in-trade – his 'line' – but she resolved to wait and see so she allowed them to persuade her to go along.

"I brought a trade-in which we finished detailing this afternoon. It's big enough so everyone travels with me!" Peter took command throwing his keys to the parking attendant. 

Jennifer looked at him and laughed at Bob's comments, "My God, Peter's brought a bus to town. Bet the company is paying for the tightwad's petrol. Peter, you lead, we'll follow, you bloody bossy bugger!"

Instead of a bus, a large people mover arrived and Peter made his two friends get in the rear seats before helping Karen and Ruth into the second row of seats. He then assisted Jennifer into the front seat. 

"I don't want any misbehavior by you two hooligans. You'll give me a bad name," was his excuse.

The trip to Chinatown was quick and as they walked the streets, Bob reassumed leadership. 

"You should all realize that Peter has a sixth sense when it comes to food. He may not drink much alcohol but he sure knows how to eat. Peter, select the restaurant and order for all of us."

Unwilling to display his language abilities in front of Jennifer, Peter looked ill at ease. Yet, although obviously embarrassed, he made no comment. Instead, he studied the Chinese signs above the shop doorways as if reading them. 

Peter realized he must do as Bob had requested.

This was not the time to pretend ignorance. Suddenly he dived into a non-descript doorway and led the way up a flight of narrow creaky stairs.

Jennifer drew back. There were no tablecloths and there was no sign of English anywhere. The place was garish with its red lanterns, while in the far corner was an altar where joss sticks burned. Although not a single European face was visible, Peter seemed perfectly at home.

The headwaiter, in excruciating English, tried to inform them no tables were available but Peter would have none of it, answering in a bark of guttural Chinese that seemed to flow endlessly off his tongue. Backing away, the waiter rushed off to the kitchen while Peter slowly made his way to the altar in the corner where he knelt. Lighting three joss sticks he seemed to bow his head in prayer, completely ignoring his party.

"Oh god, he's off again. Stop looking worried, Jennifer, Peter is absolutely harmless but he sometimes thinks he is more Chinese than the Chinese." Ted's quiet explanation seemed to remove Jennifer's apprehension. "Just go with the flow and we'll have a Chinese meal such as you have never experienced and is never on a menu." 

Charmed by Ted's kindly explanation Jennifer listened to the cacophony of Chinese voices.

"He may seem strange – bloody strange at times – but he will never hurt you. Tonight is the first time I've ever seen him with a woman. For the first time since I have known him he demanded that we introduce him to a woman – you!" 

The manager arrived, his face an inscrutable mask, but catching sight of Peter praying, he waited patiently. As Peter rose and turned to join his party that mask broke into a wide smile of pleasure and the manager led the noisy party into a back room furnished with a long, heavily carved table, and high-backed ornately-carved chairs. Carefully, he sat Peter at the head of the table. Jennifer he sat at Peter's right, but allowed the others to sit where they wished. He clapped his hands and waiters appeared at Peter's side.

With no attention to the menu, Peter began a rattle fire conversation with a waiter, obviously discussing the order. 

Yet, it was impossible for Jennifer to decide whether Peter's conversation with the waiters was affable or impolite. The guttural sibilants and implosive grunts of the language combined with her inability to read any facial reactions made it impossible to guess the mood of the conversation.

Jennifer was completely nonplussed. This strange man with the piercing blue eyes, formerly so attentive and so considerate, had changed. Now he seemed to be so authoritarian – almost tyrannical in his supervision of the meal order. Giving his full attention to the waiter, he even took the order pad to check what he had written. Peter seemed to correct some items as if he could read the Chinese characters. 

He was not boasting of his prowess, he was not boasting of his proficiency in another language he was just at home, perfectly comfortable in this second culture.

Overhearing a whispered comment by one of the waiters, "The Little One is here," Jennifer looked around the table to try to discover The Little One. Was The Little One either of her two friends who were far from being giants? It could not possibly be Bob or Ted who were not small. It certainly was not the big bear of a man, Peter. She wasn't sure who carried this unusual title. Surely, they were not applying that name to her.

"Please forgive me. I took the liberty of ordering for you." The waiters had scurried away and Peter leant towards Jennifer. "I really have tried to order a meal that suits your pallet and says thanks for coming with me tonight. I used my experience in Chinese Cuisine to order some dishes that normally are not available. I hope you enjoy the meal."

Jennifer just nodded.

One waiter placed a petite bowl of chilies floating in oil smelling of fish before Peter. 

After filling the bowl with soy sauce, he lifted it to his lips and began shoveling the chilies into his mouth. Expressionless but alert, the waiter was watching closely. Peter grunted "Ho" as the final chili vanished into his mouth.

"Hell, Peter I wish you would forget that party trick." Bob looked as if he was about to heave. "I come out in heat rashes just watching you! My throat burns and my stomach cramps with acute agony. Talk about heart-burn!"

Stunned, shuddering and speechless, Jennifer could only stare at Peter. She felt at a loss because only chopsticks were evident and she felt self-conscious. Looking at her friends, she sought some support but they were too engrossed playing up to their dinner companions. 

Karen, much to the waiter's disgust, was having a pretend sword fight with Bob using a chopstick while Ruth was leaning against Ted begging that he help her learn the use of chopsticks. 

Jennifer knew that no help would be forthcoming from that direction. 

Noticing her dismay, Peter grinned. "If you don't use chopsticks you'll starve," he laughed, scooping some rice into her bowl and some into his. Then, holding the bowl to his lips, he shoveled the rice into his mouth encouraging her to do the same. "Remember to make three shovels. That's polite – more than that and you're rude and come from Hong Kong." 

Laughing at her surprise, he gave full attention to the food.

Throughout the meal, he selected tidbits and held them to her lips to taste.

During the dinner, the manager leant over Jennifer to whisper. "You know he's one of us," leaving her even more perplexed.

The table groaned with food - the only food that Jennifer declined was the roast duck complete with its head. 

The discussion around the table was light-hearted and flirtatious and she knew her two new friends were intent on reeling in their dinner companions.

When the meal was nearly finished, the waiters placed a small bottle of Tiger Beer beside each member of the party and three huge plates of chili crab arrived. 

Jennifer was perplexed because no waiter attempted to give her a beer. 

Turning to her, Peter asked, "Will you do me the honor of sharing my beer, please?"

She could only nod.

The waiters filled everyone's glass and Peter carefully divided his beer with her. She was surprised that nobody attempted to touch their glass until a waiter leant across to spin the duck's head. When it stopped spinning the beak pointed at Peter. 

Jennifer couldn't believe what was happening. With her mind reeling she found it difficult to accept this unusual and unfamiliar situation.

Glass in hand, Peter stood. Suddenly the room filled with waiters and cooks, all smiling broadly, each with a glass in one hand and a bottle of Tiger Beer in the other. 

"Yam Seng!" Peter roared, and he seemed to be bursting with pride and happiness as he downed his glass in one gulp.

"Yam Seng!" came from everyone in the room and Jennifer was astonished that she joined in. Her surprise continued when Peter fished a wad of pink envelopes from his pocket and handed one to each person in the room including each of the party. He bowed low to the manager with the words "Kong hee fatt choy," as he handed him his own pink envelope.

As he passed Jennifer her envelope, his words changed to "Happy New Year," and he smiled broadly.

Feeling this man had to be Eurasian because of his knowledge of Chinese customs and language, graciously she accepted the gift.

In the Powder Room before leaving the restaurant, Karen and Ruth conveyed how excited they were with the events of the evening. 

"What about you, Jennifer? What do you think of Peter?" asked Karen.

Not wishing to give anything away Jennifer replied conservatively. "He seems all right." 

"He looks a bit of a dream boat and not stingy at all. Did you notice he paid for the meal?" Ruth continued. "But, he's a bit too much of a wet blanket for me."

"Well, he's all Jennifer's." Karen tossed her head back and added warningly, "Just as long as you leave Bob alone. He's mine."

"You can have him," was Jennifer's reply. "Besides, Ruth seems completely absorbed by Ted and I would prefer to with Peter than either of the other two."

"Ted's loaded," Ruth contributed blithely, "absolutely loaded." 

"He's merry but not drunk," Karen defended him. "Like Bob – just merry."

"I mean 'rich'," lilted Ruth, turning circles and chanting gloatingly. "Money, money, money. Filthily, beautifully rich. His family has buckets and his grandfather's already passed his to Ted."

"Half your luck." Karen was surprised and thoughtful. "I didn't know." She shrugged. "We'd better not keep them waiting too long."

Not a soul opened an envelope and suddenly it was time to go. No one made a comment about the meal and the strange surroundings although Jennifer was bursting with questions. The party boarded the vehicle as if in a trance. 

Jennifer's mind was still in confusion and her thoughts raced. The Chinese meal was like no other. The small servings, the ability to eat what she wanted - the meal was just incredible. 

Was Peter a dancer? How could Peter be so fluent in Chinese? Why was he so welcome? Was he Christian or...? He seemed to worship at that shrine and he knew what to do. Now what was going to happen? She was off to the Trots so what strange plans had he in mind now?

Bob had called Jennifer the Ice Maiden. She was certainly cool. Not once during the meal was she more than frostily polite, her laughter no more than cool ripples. 

Much more noise but not so strident met them at the Trotting Track. 

Jennifer had seen these races at what she knew as Gymkhanas when she was growing up, but, back then, the betting had been absent. Here the fervor of gambling filled the air and ran through the crowd, building the excitement. 

Karen clung to Bob's arm while beseechingly raising innocent eyes to Ted to ask his advice on betting. Satisfied with intermittently diverting his attention from Ruth, she would then wheedle more funds from Bob to clinch her bets. 

Bob was obviously overspending. Just as obviously, he expected to recoup any losses at the end of the evening in bed with Karen.

Ruth was winning. Ted had stuffed her handbag with notes and was pressing more money on her to double her bets.

Peter hoped the excitement of horses trotting under the arc lights would interest Jennifer but still she was unimpressed. Together they leant over a rail watching the gigs flash past. 

"I love the sound of the swishing tires and the thud, thud, thud of the hooves. There's almost a symphonic poem in the strange musical sound. No wonder the lure of the track is strong for so many people. Even the sounds add to the excitement." Desperately he tried to break though Jennifer's reserve.

With her green eyes even darker than before, she turned to him. 

"You haven't made a single bet. Don't let me spoil your fun."

"Spoil my fun?" Peter almost choked. "I don't know one end of a trotter from the other. I don't gamble these days - I gambled enough in my early life," and his eyes clouded over until he shook his head. The inscrutable mask of the east slid down across his face before he spoke. His early life had taught him how to conceal his thoughts and feelings. "This really isn't my idea of a night out. Like you, I followed the arrangements. Bob and Ted believe I need..." He didn't attempt to continue.

Jennifer stifled a giggle. "I thought you're a gambler like the others." 

Even in the gloom away from the direct light of the over-head, arc lights Peter could sense her confusion as she threw him the next question, quickly turning to look back at the track. 

"What's your idea of a good night?" 

As he answered, Jennifer turned to face him again unable to believe his words.

"I love opera, ballet and symphony concerts. I've two permanent seats at performances but never have I had any one in that second seat on my right. I've always been alone. However, I'd prefer that you didn't tell the others. They think I'm strange enough as it is." 

Peter found himself opening his heart to this delicate young woman whose presence so unsettled him. "They think nothing of carousing into the early hours but I can't drink - I get so sick. I'd much prefer a game of chess."

Hmmm. He says he likes chess, ballet, opera and symphony concerts. Her eyes glittered with merriment as she studied the track before wheeling back to Peter. The lilt of her laughter softened her words. 

"You a chess player - that's hard to imagine," she said aloud. Jennifer, however, didn't voice her thoughts. She'd always wanted to play chess but had no one to teach her. Right now, she found the wicked twinkle in Peter's eyes intriguing. He just had to be too good to be true. There had to be a flaw.

Peter had indeed told the truth about the things that interested him most, but the evening had been so remarkable that Jennifer couldn't bring herself to believe him yet. How could one man do some many things with such competence? She couldn't possibly know his early years were not involved with family or with stable relationships so he had thrown himself into academia and sports.

The arrival of the others, a noisy, excited babbling group stopped any further conversation. 

"Come on, you two. Peter, you're driving us to the Casino." Ted took over the leadership this time, trying to inspire Ruth who was clinging tightly to his arm.

At the casino as the others stood around the roulette table placing their bets and trying their luck, Peter stood back with Jennifer ruefully noting that both Ted and Bob were having much more success with their partners than he was. 

The game was barely worth a glance and Peter was terrified Jennifer would want to bet. He stood close to her – believing a girl like her needed someone to take care of her. She didn't seem to know anything much about a place like this.

Finally, she moved to a card game where Peter became engrossed in the movement of the expert card dealer's hands as she fanned cards to the players gathered around the green baize covered table. Absorbed by her elegant fingers, fluttering lightly over the cards as they flew to the players with unerring accuracy, Peter noticed nothing else.

"Haven't you ever seen a low neckline before?" Jennifer's words, laden with irony, cut across Peter's thoughts. 

"Good Lord." Peter didn't realize that he'd been staring, but Jennifer's comment certainly made him think. Low necklines – that was only for the suckers. However, he noticed that the more the dealer revealed as she leant forward, the more the attention of the players wavered and the more they lost.

"Oops! Sorry – I was watching her hands. I've never seen anything like them." Peter laughed. "Not that I can deal. I usually manage to drop half the cards on the floor."

Jennifer was even more worried. Was this man a fast thinker, some kind of nut or a person of values? There was still the trip home to get through. That would be the test. Would he suddenly become a lecher? If he did, what would she do? He was so strong. His body was attractive and he moved with a casual litheness that was entirely deceptive. 

Is it safe to have him drive me home, she wondered? She didn't have long to wait for an answer to her last question.

A scantily clad waitress served a drink to one of the players - an expensively suited, lecherous old fool who had been drooling over the dealer's neckline. As the waitress leant forward to place the drink, one of his hands snaked across her shoulders to force her lower while the other hand thrust money deep into her blouse where his fingers lingered much too long.

"Don't!" hissed Jennifer taking one look at Peter's face before dragging him out of the casino into the fresh night air. 

"What was all that about?" Peter looked perplexed. 

"I thought you were about to hit that old goat. The bouncers thought so too." Her comment surprised Peter. "I could feel your anger, and the flash in your eyes frightened me."

"Thanks for saving me." Laughing, Peter continued, "It's just that I hate men who believe a woman is theirs because they have money or power. That waitress was merely doing her job but that old goat - as you called him - believed he had the right to maul her. You were right to drag me away from the situation. I wouldn't relish tangling with those gorillas. They would have half murdered me."

"You're a nut," laughed Jennifer.

"Yes, but a harmless one," Peter replied, joining in the gaiety. His laugh was a glorious, joyful surge of merriment that burst over them before floating upwards while his blue eyes sparkled and the creases around his mouth added exclamation marks to his wide grin. He sobered and, staring into Jennifer's eyes, as if to reinforce the idea he repeated the words. "A harmless one." 

Time paused for a moment before he gently took Jennifer's hand and led her to the vehicle. She relaxed but had to ask one question. "How do you explain being fluent in Chinese?"




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 02



He ignored her question until minutes later when they parked outside her unit. 

"I'm not fluent in Chinese. There is no such language." he corrected her.

Jennifer winced. All night she had not seemed to ask the right question where Peter was concerned.

"I'm fluent in Cantonese. I can swear like a trooper in Hokkien and can speak Mandarin. I can read and write Chinese, which is Mandarin script. As well, I'm also fluent in Tamil, Thai, Lao, Vietnamese, Malay and Indonesian." Jennifer watched him, wide-eyed. Peter was very serious as he bathed in her green-eyed gaze.

"Don't ask how or why – not even my closest friends know. Perhaps as we get to know each another better I shall tell you."

Peter was an expert – his psychology degrees and his years of study had guaranteed he knew how words could affect a listener. Jennifer was one he wanted to influence and cunningly, he had mentioned the idea of getting to know each other. He was desperate to gain this woman's interest and for the first time in his life, he was using every trick in the book to establish a friendship.

He'd tried to make light of it, but clearly, touching on this topic of his early life had struck a nerve deep within. Staring through the windscreen, he took a series of deep breaths before opening his door to move slowly to the passenger's side to help Jennifer out.

Alarmed by his sudden tension Jennifer's mind returned with a sharp pang back into her own reality, her own fears. She realized she'd forgotten what might be expected of her at the end of such a generously hosted evening. Ashen faced, she whispered a hurried apology. "I'm not going to invite you in for coffee. I'm sorry your night out with me has been wasted, but I don't do those things."

Peter took her arm and held her a moment.

"I'll see you to your door so you are safe," he insisted. "That's the least I can do. Stop troubling yourself needlessly. You have no worries and no problems when you're with me."

Jennifer knew he felt her body stiffen. She felt awkward. Peter had been good company with a depth to him that she couldn't precisely gauge and she believed she should have said something else - but what? She wanted him to know the truth about her. Back in the bar, perhaps her words had been too bold.

Let's face it – I want you to kiss me, but I don't want things to happen too fast. I want to see you again and... She remained silent her thoughts remaining unspoken.

Asking for her key, he interrupted her thoughts. 

"I'm sorry your evening was spoilt but..."

His roar of joy interrupted her. Chuckling loudly he unlocked her door.

"Spoilt my night? You've spoilt my night. Don't do those things - what things are we talking about here, Jennifer? My night wasted, when all the time I was with you?" He gave the door a nudge and it swung open. 

Incredulous, Peter stared at her before continuing.

"Surely you're joking. The night itself was a disaster - not of our making - but disaster all the same. In spite of that, I enjoyed your company. You're a beautiful, intelligent young woman and I'm grateful to have been your escort for the night. As for the coffee - well I'd much prefer a good drinking tea." 

He chuckled as Jennifer's eyes widened in surprise. "But here I am – I've escorted you to your door as a gentleman should." He indicated the entrance to her apartment then turned to her.

At that moment, he knew he had to do it – to do something that conveyed the genuineness of his liking for this beautiful, frozen girl with the fragile soul. There, in front of her open door, he took her head in gentle hands, reveling in the flow of her hair through his fingers. Bending forward, tenderly he tilted her face up towards his own. For moments, he paused to stare silently into her eyes, before sighing. 

He kissed her hair and left.

Jennifer closed the door and leant against it, catching her breath. Her mind was crowded with thoughts. What did he say? I have no worries, no problems? Of course, I have these. Too many of them – and they won't ever go away.

Nevertheless, do I have a chance of ever seeing him again, even for just for a moment? What about his love for the ballet, opera, symphony concerts, chess? That kiss on my hair – and the effortless ease with which he demolished those three at the bar? Finally, what about... yes, I have to admit to the question... is he gay?

She reached for the phone. 

"God Jennifer, some people work for a living, you know. Do you know the time? Whatever's the matter? Are you okay?" The sleepy male voice reassured her.

"Andrew I'm so worried. I met a man tonight and he..."

"Oh hell, I'll pack my cricket bat and be up there as soon as - say Monday at the latest." Andrew sounded worried and furious.

Laughing Jennifer interrupted, "No Andrew, that's not necessary." Then losing her laugh she sobered to add, "I'm so worried and I rang you for help. Tonight I..."

"I'm not your priest, Jennifer," was Andrew's polite interjection. "I think you're supplying me with too much information. Perhaps your doctor could put you on the pill!"

"Andrew, you're disgusting. How could you? Behave!" Jennifer began to doubt the wisdom of seeking his help. 

Patiently she restarted. "Tonight made me worry that I will never be able to love, to be free and not be suspicious of men. I'm terrified my mind can never get over that horrendous night when you rescued me. I feel unable to let go. I'll never be able to give myself to a man I love," and she began crying.

"Come on, use my shoulders. You have in the past so use them now. What has happened?" Suddenly Andrew's voice reflected his love and concern for her. 

"Tonight I met a man, Peter, who was thoughtful and charming and when I repulsed his attempt at seeing me home safely he just kissed my hair and left. I wanted him to kiss me and I chased him away. Whatever will I do because I just froze?"

"Look Sis, stop worrying. If this Peter is to be your man, he will thaw you. He kissed your hair you say. Are you sure he is a man?" 

The answer was a sob.

"So he didn't do anything other than kiss your hair goodnight. Well that could mean one of two things. He wants you and does not want to risk any relationship by moving too quickly or he just wants a good-looking female on his arm to make him feel a male. If you need me to fly up to help, give me a week to make arrangements. 

"You sleep well Sis, I am beaten – been a long day branding all the new calves. 

"Sleep well, you'll be okay and forget that night, it was a long time ago – easy for me to say – and enjoy your new friend. He sounds fun." 

The phone went dead in Jennifer's hand.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 03



Early the following morning Peter eagerly knocked at Jennifer's door. He didn't consider 7 too early nor did he consider his actions unusual. After a long pause, while Jennifer inspected him through the peephole, the door was wrenched open.

"What do you think you're doing?" Wearing a pale green dressing gown, with her hair tousled and her face showing that she had awakened from a deep sleep, Jennifer glared angrily at him, her hands on her hips. "Have you gone mad? Don't you know what time it is?" 

Even the yellow roses thrust into her hand did nothing to calm the fire in those eyes. This Ice Maiden was angry. 

Stuttering and stammering, retreating before her outrage Peter regretted the crazy idea that had brought him there.

"Well, speak up."

Peter could only stammer and mumble.

"Come in. It's far too cold to stand out here talking." As she pulled the door fully open, her dressing gown swung back to give a tantalizing glimpse of nightwear and bare legs. Jennifer must have noticed Peter's reaction as she quickly added, "and don't get any funny ideas. I want to know what you think you're doing. I demand an explanation and then you're on your way, mister."

The shaggy bear, that was Peter, lumbered after her muttering his gruff apologies. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was so early. I only came to help you with your shopping."

What had been a sweet idea had suddenly turned very sour. "I really am sorry! I..."

"Oh, no you're not." The chill in her voice showed she was not interested in his excuses. Denying him any further glimpse of her nightwear and legs by firmly holding her dressing gown in place she flounced onto the settee. "You planned all this, believing I'd be swept off my feet." Pulling her pink envelope from her pocket, she spread the contents on the coffee table. "You even thought you could buy me," and her lips curled back in distaste. 

Drawing himself up to his full height and red of face, angrily he tried to think of a way through her accusation as he glared at her. He knew that he wouldn't accept that accusation from anyone let alone this beautiful young woman who was stepping back from his anger.

Sinking into a chair as if his legs would no longer support him he allowed his voice to lash out whipping across her thoughts. 

"That pink envelope is an Ang Pow given freely to wish someone good luck. It's full of new money. Last night was Chinese New Year, heralding the beginning of the Year of the Golden Dragon. Chinese Custom has it that the recipient of the Ang Pow acquires considerable wealth and good luck in the forthcoming year, yet you have the audacity to insult me saying I was buying you. 

"Was I also buying everyone at the meal last night? Thanks for the insult. That is something I would have considered beneath the dignity of the wonderful lady I had the pleasure of escorting last night."

Feeling utterly miserable, Jennifer recoiled from the angry heat of his eyes.

"I had a most enjoyable night and now this!" He was livid.

"You're absolutely, bloody unbelievable. I just can't believe your accusation." Peter shook his head before continuing. "Now, as for me planning all this... That's rubbish! I'm no thinker. I'm just trying to be friendly with no ulterior motive." 

What else could Peter say? 

Jennifer said nothing. She was immovable.

Obviously, Jennifer was ignoring his words. She watched silently, absolutely bewildered by the vehemence of his response, hoping she could do something to make the redness in Peter's eyes soften and return to their sparkling blue. 

So forceful was his anger she was frightened.

"All right, I'll admit it. I wanted to see you this morning but there's no crime in that. I'm not a leper you know, although I've lived with a few of those." Peter was infuriated. 

"I could've slept in and not been subject to all this nonsense. You're new in Sydney, by yourself, and you had a miserable time last night so I came here, trying to make amends. Stupidly, I believed I could be of some help and take you shopping but obviously, I made a mistake. The yellow roses say friendship, which I had hoped to build on, but, foolish me, I didn't realize that was not a possibility."

Peter hauled himself out of his chair and immediately Jennifer realized just how big he was. 

"Well, thanks for last night. If nothing else, I can truthfully say I really enjoyed your company and you made the night for me. I am not exaggerating when I state that was one of the happiest nights of my whole life, only made possible by you."

Turning, he marched to the door and, as he opened it, he whirled around on her with his final words.

"I'm no boy although you seem to think I am. I'm a man, proud of my manhood and I'm especially proud that you allowed me to escort you last night. For that, I thank you. I won't bother you again. Perhaps we'll meet again - at least I - I certainly hope so." 

Peter's shoulders drooped. He was beaten and he turned to the door. 

"I'm sorry for the intrusion."

"Peter, come back and sit down." Jennifer looked stricken, so small and fragile as she began to cry. Almost against her will, the tears ran as she looked down at her fingers clasped in her lap. "It's just... It's just..." 

Searching for words as she gasped for breath through her tears, she peered at Peter trying to detect a change in his demeanor. To him it seemed as if she was peeping up from under her long lashes using all her womanly wiles. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm so defensive. I can't help it."

Suddenly the realization crashed into his consciousness that she had no idea of Chinese New Year. Just because he had been Chinese educated, he expected this fragile young woman to know Chinese Customs. She had not been insulting. She was unknowing of the Chinese ways.

His eyes returned to their normal blue and he began to chortle much to Jennifer's surprise.

Staring at her, Peter realized with a shock that Jennifer was, in fact, considerably more like him than he had guessed. Suddenly he realized that under her hard shell was a passionate woman who wanted appreciation and love. 

Just knowing this was enough to give him a complete change of heart. 

Clearly, she needed him – needed someone strong who would protect her and sweep her away from the things that troubled her. His heart smiled. Obviously, a man like him could sweep her off her feet, so why not do something about it now – literally! 

Jennifer shrieked as Peter swooped down low towards her, catching her in his arms and throwing her into the air before bringing her down again and sitting her in his lap, his arms holding her tightly. Gently he stroked her hair, quietly reassuring her. 

"You need never be defensive with me. I'll never harm you." He chanted the words like a Buddhist mantra as he continued stroking her hair.

Jennifer laughed through her tears, her feelings becoming calmer now within the safety of Peter's warm and safe embrace. On the other hand, was he harmless? She felt his hot breath against her neck and looked up at him.

"Get dressed before I forget myself." Bent over her face Peter leered at her in the most dreadful way that he could manage.

Jennifer yelped and ran. At the bedroom door, she paused, turned and her fire reappeared – all pretence this time. 

"Don't get any peculiar ideas, no funny business. The door is locked." Suddenly Jennifer knew that she had said the wrong thing when the anger returned to Peter's eyes.

With a bite in his voice Peter barked, "I am no bloody silly teenager who can only think of his own self gratification whenever he is with you. I said that I was a man – a man who... The only time I'll come into your bed or your shower is when I'm invited." 

Slowly Peter's eyes returned to their sparkling blue. 

"I'll cook breakfast. Then I'll take you shopping if you like." As she made no comment, Peter continued, "Hurry! There's such a lot to do - and don't forget your shopping list." 

Peter retrieved the basket of food from outside the front door - all the necessities for an unusual breakfast - and began cooking. 

The kitchen, like the living room was spotless and feminine, showing that, even in her brief time in Sydney, Jennifer had worked hard to establish a home. It didn't take Peter long to feel comfortable as he made his way through the contents of her cupboards.

He heated the chicken stock, placed the banh pho (wide rice noodles) in the large Chinese bowls from his basket and tossed the chicken pieces into the stock to cook.

Peter's knock on the bedroom door and shout of "Want me to wash those difficult-to-reach places?" was met with a muffled screech and the sounds of a splattering shower. 

Minutes later, a completely different Jennifer sat staring at the huge bowl of steaming Pho Ga (Vietnamese Chicken Noodle Soup) that he placed before her. 

Peter laughed at her confusion but soon they were both eating, enjoying his cooking. 

"This is a Vietnamese breakfast - I do hope you're enjoying it," was Peter's comment as he fished for compliments.

"You can cook." Jennifer seemed surprised. "I didn't know how hungry I was. This is truly delicious." 

The faintest of make-up highlighted her delicate features and her face sparkled. Her blouse and skirt, although more casual than her suit of the previous night, were just as tasteful but today she appeared so young and so carefree.

Studying her, Peter ate slowly, busily thinking how he would like to taste her shoulders. Pho lost its attraction in comparison to the delights she could offer.

At last, Jennifer sat back. "I couldn't eat another thing." Then becoming intense, she stared into Peter's eyes as if demanding the truth. She blushed as she asked, "Who or what is The Little One?"

Peter's eyes did not waver. His poker face did not betray a thing. "What a strange expression? Where did you hear that?"

"Last night one of the waiters remarked The Little One is here'."

"I'm sorry. You will have to ask the waiter." Peter's oriental mask slipped into place so that his inner turmoil was not showing. 

"Cook doesn't wash up so get busy," Peter enjoyed bossing her about, "But I'll wipe."

"You give as many orders as my brother." Her eyes crinkled as she thought of home. "He's a beast too."

Jennifer tried to stop her mind from wandering but thoughts crowded in on her. What is it about this man? I treated him shamefully when he arrived and he became angry at my accusations. Then our disagreement passed over and it is as if it had never happened. He can cook and he can laugh but why, gulping she admitted her need, why hasn't he attempted to touch me or to kiss me? He shows such consideration and such thought yet nothing physical. He has to be gay and having a gay friend could be enjoyable but I want more than a friendship.

The morning flowed smoothly but, far too quickly, it passed into the afternoon. Terrified that he might do something to offend her, Peter fought any desire to put his arm around Jennifer's waist or to hold her hand. His euphoria at being with her kept his conversation flowing easily and she seemed to relax. 

She didn't even demure when he dragged her into a milk bar. Demanding she perch on a stool and suck her milk shake as noisily as possible, he ordered for them.

"I haven't done that for ages. Mum used to rouse on us when we were little for making sucking noises." Her face broke into a happy smile. "Just as well she didn't hear us then. Wasn't the shopkeeper surprised?" 

Jennifer stopped as she forced herself to put an end to her feelings for this man. She knew that he was getting to her. She wanted more than a friendship with a gay. She couldn't afford to fall in love with this man. It must stop.

"Oh, dear, look at the time. I must fly. Come on, we must get back."

The trip back to Jennifer's apartment was quiet. Peter's dream was shattered and he was no company

Silently, with shoulders slumped, Peter carried the groceries into the kitchen. Then, the task completed, quietly he made his way out into the foyer where he stood dumbly unable to think of what to say. He didn't attempt to touch Jennifer denying the feelings racing through his body. Before turning to walk away, he handed Jennifer his business card. "If you call at the BMW dealer alongside that address and show this card you will get a price that will be hard to refuse. Please honor me and use my card."

Jennifer closed the door and began weeping softly as she leant against it. 

Her thoughts were in turmoil. The sunlight disappeared when I hinted I had a date for tonight. He seemed destroyed and then he handed me the business card. Is he trying to control me? No, I don't think so. He's really trying very hard to be my friend but I want more than a friendship with a gay. I want a man to love me, to protect me. Why did I pretend I had a date?

Incensed, believing that Jennifer had a date, Peter drove to the workshop, although, as he relived the day's events, he came to comprehend that he should've had sense enough to realize she had only met him the previous night. Just because he had enjoyed her company so much, he believed she had enjoyed his. 

Bob and Ted would've known what to do. Bob would've made sure that Jennifer would want to see him again and Ted would've been masterful in his appropriate arrangements for the future. 

Peter's mind rambled on. No wonder I obviously found so many doors closing behind me whenever I became interested in a woman. I know it is my fault. Disgusted he admitted to himself that he couldn't even summon the courage to ask her for a date.

Sitting in his office, he stared at the wall in front of him. He didn't see the advertisements of cars, the promotions for spare parts and paints. All he could see was a vision of that beautiful young woman who seemed to have stolen so quietly into his life. 

Reviewing the day's activities, he wondered how he could have made his presence more forceful. 

Suddenly he blanched. His mind had returned to his last meeting with his two Asian fathers. 

"You must let go Peter! You have had to control everything until now," was their advice. "If you had lost control for a single instant you would have lost your life but now you must let go. You cannot – you must not - force your control on others. You must learn to share your life with others if you want others in your life."

He felt ill. 

There was no way he wanted to control Jennifer. He wanted her love and he needed her beside him as his equal in everything. 

This young woman had wormed her way into his soul and there was no way he wanted to control her. She had come into his life unbidden.

He had not controlled her then and he would not control her in the future.

Slowly, as he tried to decide how he could change his attitude he stood and walked into the workshop donning his overalls as he went. 

He began to work.

Seated in her kitchen, Jennifer took stock of the situation. She decided that she was being silly. Peter was gay and there was no future for them but he still intrigued her. She slipped into a warm coat and with his business card in hand, called a taxi. She had to discover what was behind this Peter. He was strange, he was thoughtful and he was considerate. Besides, there was a depth to him she couldn't understand.

At the workshop under the blaze of lights, the racing car was ready. That is what Peter had truthfully told the others but he busied himself pottering in its innards making checks and even more checks trying to forget the realization of what a series of blunders he had made during the day. In fact, the whole day had been a hideous mistake.

Perhaps, he decided, he was bitter because Jennifer had a date. Trying to free his mind of the beautiful young woman, he tinkered with the engine and polished the car. Finally, he fired the engine, completely unaware of the redheaded woman from his thoughts watching his every move through the workshop window. Neither was he aware of her shaking her head as she left.

He ran the engine through its rev range as it warmed up, its throaty roar reflecting his feelings, 'How dare she have a date? Aren't I male enough?' 

Then, satisfied the engine would stand up to the day's racing, he switched it off. There was nothing else to do.

As he straightened his aching back thoughts hammered into his head. No. No. No. I can do something else. There are plenty of good fish in the sea. Jennifer is not the only woman in the world. I'll just have to look about again.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 04



A hammering on the shutters brought Peter back to reality. 

"Is the car loaded?" Bob was bright and cheery and Ted waved from his car. "My God, you look as though you've not been to bed at all. Hook up the trailer and let's get going. We have a busy day ahead."

It was Sunday. The night had flown. 

Peter had been so busy thinking of Jennifer and what he would say, when next they met - if they met - so busy checking the car he had not noticed the sunlight streaming into the workshop.

The circuit was the usual stink of racing fuel, exhaust smoke and dust. 

There was no time to give thought to women as Ted and Peter busied themselves - Peter with the car and Ted with last minute instructions to Bob. Good-natured calls from the other crews, the usual formalities and official inspections kept Peter's mind from wandering. It wasn't until Bob drove off for the first practice laps that Peter was able to straighten and look about.

Even then he was not given time to relax. It seemed as though no sooner had Bob left than he was back and again Peter's head was under the bonnet as he made final checks. 

Dust, heat, exhaust fumes and haze. The air was full of the screams of engines under torment and the whine of over-stressed gears. Peter could only concentrate on his burnt knuckles, the skin off his fingers and his aching back.

Later, with a scantily clad girl on each arm, Bob stood on the podium squirting champagne as the successful driver.

That was Sunday.

Two weeks later, early on the Monday morning, in spite of his good intentions, Peter was on the phone eager to hear Jennifer's voice. "Hey, Bob. What's Jennifer's extension number?" 

"Jennifer? Jennifer who?" Bob, the perennial joker, paused, clearly determined to tease him. "284. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," Peter was reluctant to tell Bob how desperately he wished to speak with her, how urgently he needed to see her.

"Well, well," came Bob's good-natured chuckle. "So the Ice Maiden has claimed another victim." Still laughing, he continued, "Well, I did warn you, but you - you young fellows won't listen. Hang on and I'll get the exchange to put you through."

Peter recoiled. The hide of him! Us, young fellows indeed. We're the same age.

"Jennifer Blake speaking. How can I help you?"

Peter's mind raced and he could not answer. How can you help me? If only I could express my feelings, if only I could tell you how much you can help me. He was tongue-tied.

That husky voice recalled vivid memories of her perfume and her eyes. Peter was speechless. 

"Can I help you?"

Jennifer interpreted Peter's silence as a faulty line. "I... I..." 'Oh God, why can't I speak to her?' Peter breathed a silent prayer. 

"Who's speaking please?"

"Peter."

"Peter?" Jennifer sounded perplexed.

Peter was horrified. She couldn't have forgotten me. I haven't forgotten her. "Peter O'Brien." Again Peter's mind raced. What was he doing on this damn phone? She didn't even recognize his voice. She failed to remember him. He was wasting his time. Then he gathered himself and the words tumbled out. "I was the third man at the Trots on that disastrous night - Bob's friend."

"Oh, yes." Her voice seemed to grow warm and Peter wanted to believe her eyes had softened as she thought of him but he knew he was fooling himself. 

"Bob's done nothing but talk of you and your ability as an engineer. I believe The Three Musketeers, as he labeled you, had some success racing a car. The photographs on the wall of his office show the success you had with that girl. She certainly was kissing you as the victorious engineer." Her voice sounded steely. 

Peter's heart fell. That's why she remembered me. Bob's been talking. That damned photo didn't tell the truth. Bravely he mustered the courage to continue. "I know this is short notice but are you doing anything tonight?" 

There was a long pause and Peter died the death of a thousand cuts - the death of the faint hearted.

"I'm sorry." The answer came at last.

Peter broke into emotional overload. God, at least I tried.

Then after a long delay Jennifer continued, "Perhaps some other night...?"

"Thursday night?" Peter's words tumbled out. "I'll pick you up at 7.30. Just wear jeans to be comfortable, you won't need to be formal and we'll eat as well." Fearing that if he talked any longer, he would betray what he had in mind Peter quickly added, "I'll pick you up," and, without waiting for a reply, he hung up.

Jennifer looked at the now dead phone in her hand as she went back over that call. Her mind was in a whirl. I feel such a bitch putting him through hell like that. Company policy demands that every officer, forwarding a phone call, states the caller's name. I knew it was Peter before I spoke. My heart is pounding so strongly and I am trembling.  

All that rubbish about trying to remember him was just that – rubbish. Every day I have been praying he'd call. I'd been so lonely that, even though I believe he's gay, I decided that I'd go out with him. If only I could untangle the secrecy that surrounded him. 

Fancy pretending that I have a date tonight when all I have to do is iron my clothes and then wash my hair. I'd willingly swap that for a night with him. Will it be another Chinese meal or pho? I know men call me the Ice Maiden but, with Peter, I don't want to be like that.

She stopped her thoughts as she replaced the telephone and dreamily stared out the window. Wonder what he's planning for Thursday. A smile crept around her lips as she leaned back in her chair reminiscing before eventually forcing herself to resume work.

Across town, unable to believe his luck, Peter stared at the wall. 

On leaden feet, Thursday eventually arrived and promptly at 7.30, Peter knocked on Jennifer's door. 

She swung it open as if she had been waiting and Peter required all his self-control not to pounce. He was sure he had said casual wear and he felt a complete fool when she appeared. Her blouse was all frothy lace from which her neck rose in magnificent splendor and she seemed to have poured herself into her jeans.

As usual, he was a complete fool and his opening remark, "It's not fair." made her ill at ease. 

"What's not fair?" Her eyes narrowed in worry. 

"You do more for jeans than jeans ever do for me." Peter laughed at the surprise on Jennifer's face. "You look beautiful but then," Peter tried hard to be gallant, "you always do."

"You really are a fool," she giggled but didn't protest when Peter led her by the hand to the BMW Mini Cooper at the curb. "At first I genuinely believed I had misunderstood the message." 

She was still talking when Peter opened the driver's door and handed her the key. "But Peter..."

Peter merely put a finger to her lips and walked around to get in the passenger's seat. "No, the message was right but to escort you I really should go home and change into white tie and tails." 

Ignoring his comments Jennifer concentrated on adjusting her seating position. "You'll have to direct me. I don't know Sydney very well. Where are we going?" Behind the wheel, negotiating the traffic and red lights, Jennifer was friendly and relaxed. She was not the least nervous when Peter declined to tell her. 

"You'll find out - all in good time. I have an innocent little interest that I would dearly love to share with you." 

To save further questions Peter changed the subject. "Are you enjoying driving this little beastie? I think it suits you. A dealer friend lent me this demo for you to try out. I did promise you'd be calling on him soon. Hope I'm not too pushy. Really, I am trying to be helpful." The words tumbled out.

Jennifer said nothing, her mind in a spin. Is this man trying to control me?

Suddenly, she no longer cared as her feet danced a light tattoo over the controls and the car rocketed ahead. "Well, at least I know we're not off to the trots or the casino to spend the night gambling but after you spoke of your love of ballet, opera and symphonies I can't guess where we're going. You really are a deep one." 

Following Peter's directions carefully, Jennifer lapsed into silence as she concentrated on her driving. 

At last, Peter indicated that she should pull into the car park of a suburban Town Hall where she parked the car with the thirty others. Perplexed, Jennifer could see no reason to be there. 

"Come and meet everybody." Peter led Jennifer by the hand, her touch scorching his skin. 

Off he marched, leading Jennifer into the large, dimly lit building. Down darkened corridors, they strolled until they entered a huge auditorium and made their way onto the stage where the local dramatic society had gathered for the final casting rehearsal of the latest production - a melodrama.

Introductions concluded, Jennifer and Peter sat together and listened to the members auditioning for parts. Jennifer leant close and whispered, "Why didn't you warn me? All day I've been worrying what mischief you had planned."

"Hope you don't mind." Peter was worried but his voice was no whisper and the director's grunt cut across Peter's conversation.

"Peter, will you stop whispering sweet nothings into that poor girl's ear and read the part of the villain."

Blushing furiously, Peter stood and began reading. This was the part he obviously wanted and threw everything into the words, twirling an imaginary moustache, waving the mortgage on high and enjoying himself immensely unaware of the laughter about him.

"Stop! Stop, for heaven's sake. Stop! Jennifer, would you read the heroine's part, please?" Studying her carefully, the director grinned, adding, "I know you're a visitor but I think we'll need someone to tame Peter and you have the look of the demure young heroine - the lion tamer - I need."

"I'd love to, although I haven't had much experience since leaving University." 

Jennifer entered into the spirit of the play and Peter's mind could see her bent back in his arms as, waving the mortgage above her head, he uttered the infamous words, "Come! A kiss to seal the bargain."

Later, the reading completed and both of them with scripts in their hands, they left. 

Peter was ecstatic. Jennifer was to be the heroine and he was to be the villain. He didn't care what experience Jennifer had on the stage. All he could think of, as he drove, was the perfect excuse he had to monopolize her time at least twice a week and perhaps they would need extra rehearsals at kissing. 

"Now let's eat." Peter had made up his mind. 

Jennifer had a dreamy quality in her voice. She turned to stare at Peter who wished he could stare back into her eyes but the traffic was too dense. "You really are a devious character, Peter. You wouldn't tell me where you were taking me and yet you dragged me off to one of the delights of my life. Are you a mind reader?" 

There was the slightest suggestion of laughter in her voice as she patted his arm, "Really I don't know how to thank you."

"That's easy." was Peter's grinning reply but his innermost thoughts must have shown on his face as she quickly pulled her hand back and the chill returned. 

"Just be my friend - my very best friend - my 'bestest'." He softly spoke with such sincerity that the stiffness in Jennifer's body seemed to melt. With a mischievous grin, he continued as he threw the car keys to security. "And for God's sake, trust me."

She didn't demure as he took her hand and led her to the lift where he punched the key for his apartment - the penthouse. Although apprehensive, she didn't hold back. She was distinctly suspicious yet her curiosity had ultimately overwhelmed her fears and she didn't seem to notice how closely Peter stood, bathing in her fragrance. The lift stopped and Peter broke into her thoughts, "All out."

When Peter had left earlier that evening, Mulligatawny soup (that delicious, but rarely served, Indian Chicken broth) and a Beef Salad Thai Style were left in the fridge and the curtains were drawn. The lights were dimmed and music - Die Fledermaus - would be playing softly in the background when he pressed the switch.

Hand-in-hand they stepped into his apartment. Jennifer seemed oblivious of her hand in his as Peter led her through the bachelor's pad. 

"Not what I thought a bachelor's apartment would be," she stammered in confusion. "I mean it's so neat and tidy and so... well..." she could not go on as she attempted to find the correct words.

"Oh, don't be fooled. It took weeks of cleaning to get this place tidy, hoping you'd come. I had to do something to make it presentable."

"You do tell such lies." Jennifer was no fool. "This apartment just screams of the care and attention you've given to its furnishings. Is that a picture of your parents?" She pointed above the fireplace.

"Yes." Peter was very brusque.

"What a beautiful woman and he's so handsome in his RAAF uniform. He's a squadron leader, is he not?"

"Was!" The anguish in Peter's eyes was enough to warn Jennifer not to continue on that topic. 

"What an unusual plaque under their photograph. Those little, crossed swords look dangerous. What are they and what does the inscription say?"

"They're Ghurkha knives called khukuris and the badge is the crest of a Brigade of Ghurkhas. That inscription is private and I beg you not to ask anything further.

"My parents are dead and I am alone.

"You are the first woman I have ever invited to share my home even if only for a few brief minutes. You're the first female I've escorted through that door and I'm deeply honored. Inspect the apartment. Inspect all the rooms while I prepare us a little something to eat."

Jennifer's squeal stopped him in his tracks. "You do play chess! I disbelieved you but you do play chess and these pieces are exquisite. The carving is delicate and it's solid ivory not fishbone. It must be very old because the world has now banned trade in ivory. You must have saved up forever to purchase this set. I can't play but at least I know these pieces are not only valuable but they are for use. They are not decorations. If only I could play."

"I'll teach you." Peter rushed to volunteer but there was more than chess on his mind. There was so much he would love to teach her. 

That perfume of hers was insidious as it reached out to entice him. Her voice just burnt into his heart.

"But I'm a bad host, please make yourself at home. My home is your home. Have a look around."

He raced back to the kitchen shouting as he went, "If the young memsahib would be seated. Oh, there are four bathrooms if you wish to freshen up. There are clean towels in all of them."

"And the biggest Jacuzzi I have ever seen in the master bathroom, and that bed in the master bedroom is absolutely gigantic. How do you sleep in it?"

"That's not my room. That's for my wife and me - should some woman be silly enough to say yes. That's my dream room, my prayer room where I ask God to help me in my life as I search for a partner to love, cherish, honor and yes - obey." 

Peter's eyes clouded but then he shook himself before continuing, "I sleep in the third bedroom. Would like some wine with your meal?"

"A light wine would be acceptable."

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God Bob insisted the bar is always full so he and Ted never go thirsty, otherwise you'd be restricted to iced water, tea or coffee and I can't make good coffee."

Jennifer noticed he poured wine only for her and he toasted their success at the play reading in iced water. She looked even more suspicious when he smiled and joked. 

"I'm not trying to get you drunk so I can seduce you. I'd prefer that you remain sober and seduce me." Well, at least Peter thought it was funny, but Jennifer was not amused. 

Realizing his gaff he continued, "I really have a low tolerance of alcohol. I can't drink." 

As he seated Jennifer, the curtains silently slid open and he placed the meal of Mulligatawny Soup, Thai Beef Salad and Nasi Goreng (Indonesian Fried Rice) before her. Her eyes were not on the food, as he made certain she noticed he gave her a fork and spoon as fitting a Thai meal.

She sat open mouthed as the sails of the Opera House came into view and the fairy lights of Circular Quay with its ferries began twinkling. She said nothing but turned to stare at Peter. In silence, she began to eat, periodically turning to resume her inspection of her dinner companion.

Peter started the music and the strains of Die Fledermaus gently filled the air. His eyes began to fill, as he so desperately wanted to touch her. The food was of no importance.

"Kick your shoes off," was his command and startled, Jennifer did just that.

He pulled her chair back and lifted her like thistledown into his arms just as the waltz Dui Du struck up. Peter's rich baritone voice startled her as he began singing. She floated in his arms high above the Opera House and the ferries.

The lights dimmed. Her head was on his chest and, as he sang, he repeatedly kissed her hair. When the waltz died away, she looked up into his eyes as if expecting a kiss but he couldn't trust himself and merely kissed her eyelids before leading her back to the table.

Once Jennifer sat, he knelt before her and, taking both her hands in his, kissed them gently. "Thank you, Jennifer. I've always dreamed of doing that and you've made my dreams come true."

Peter's voice was so soft and gentle Jennifer had to struggle to hear the words. 

The meal was finished.

"It's time to take Cinderella home. Otherwise, this Prince Charming turns into a frog." 

Desperately Peter tried to make light of the ending of their night, which had meant so much to him. Jennifer liked his music. She wanted to learn to play chess and she was the heroine in the melodrama. Peter's life was complete. 

In the car, he almost spoilt the night when he allowed his sense of humor to surface. "Put your knee closer. I would rather play with your knee than change gear."

The Ice Maiden returned and the atmosphere in the car was frigid.

He believed he had Jennifer's friendship and, as he escorted her to the door, he knew he wanted more than just friendship and ached to kiss her. Frightened of drowning her in the sea of fire that a kiss would ignite, he merely kissed her hair and quietly left.

Jennifer crept to her bed and lay there staring at the ceiling talking to herself. 

"Peter, you are everything I dreamed of in a man - yet you are not a man - not a full man. You lift me in your arms, you dance with your arms around me and I am safe. My body knows you're a man. Yet you bring me home and don't attempt to kiss me - why? I'm falling for you, Peter and I can't afford that luxury. I can't fall for a gay man.

"There's something seriously wrong - why the dark shadows in your life? I see your parent's picture and your eyes show the horror and hurt and I dare not question. The plaque showed strength, not weakness, and again your eyes showed hurt and you denied being able to read that inscription but the twinkle around your eyes belied your words."

She rolled into a ball as she continued. "That picture was so lifelike. Was it a picture or a painting? Your mother's eyes seemed to stare into me and to follow me and she seemed so happy with me.

"The diamonds around her neck and in her ears must have been worth a king's ransom. As well, your father - so much in love with his wife but his eyes, also, seemed to smile on me as if approving. Peter, what have you done to me?"

Her thoughts faded and she dropped off to a deep sleep, full of dancing with Peter's strong arms around her.

When he stepped back into his apartment, Peter cleaned up before kneeling before his parents' picture and pressing against the fireplace. An altar swung out and Peter burnt the usual offerings to his ancestors. He was sure both his mother and father approved of Jennifer and he was sure they smiled. Tonight's nightly ritual was complete as he stood to run his hands over the plaque. 




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 04



Ah, yes, the inscription!

To Honorary Major of the 6th Ghurkha Brigade,
.............Peter O'Brien...................
..........Let no man be fooled............... 
....The Little One is a man to be feared!....

Peter's eyes twinkled and in his mind he could see the parade ground with the ceremonial march past - with him, all of sixteen years old, fully kitted out in a Major's Uniform, taking the salute of the troops as they swung past the dais.

The music was in his ears as was the crunch of the marching feet and the orders from the Regimental Sergeant Major ringing out across the Parade Ground. What a proud, happy day that had been. The whole regiment knew his story and they were saluting his manhood, his courage and his bravery.

He moved into the main bedroom and knelt at the foot of the bed, overcome with the emotions of the evening.

As he recited the Lord's Prayer, that prayer from his childhood, he sought guidance in his winning of Jennifer. His emotions stretched to breaking point and he felt the presence of two people, one on each side, joining him in prayers. 

On one side was the roughness of his father's uniform, on the other the sweet softness of his mother. His mind, unable to cope, allowed him to slip to the floor where he slept.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 05



Relentless weeks of rehearsals followed and Peter slid into an easy routine of collecting Jennifer at her apartment, attending rehearsals and taking her back to his apartment for dinner and music.

Working, learning lines and memorizing stage movements were delightful tasks and always they had something to discuss. Even so, Peter did not attempt to hold her or kiss her. He was terrified of risking the friendship he believed they both enjoyed.

At last, the time came for the villain to sweep the heroine into his arms.

Conscious of the cast watching, Peter was tentative every time he held Jennifer and, certainly, his kisses were most demure until that fateful night when, brandishing the mortgage high above her head and growling the fatal words, "Come, a kiss to seal the bargain!" he swept Jennifer into his arms.

No longer could he deny his pent up feelings. His fingertips burned and his lips tingled. Drowning in the sweetness of her mouth, he allowed his passion to sweep over her.

"Break!"

His mind too busy absorbing the sweetness and the heat, Peter didn't hear the director. Such a triviality did not enter his brain.

"Break! Break!"

Only then did Peter become conscious of the words enough to allow Jennifer to stand upright.

"Steady on, Peter. That kiss would have scorched the rafters. That's not suitable for a melodrama. Jennifer, if he does that again, kick him."

Peter could only nod and pray that the trembling in his body wasn't visible to Jennifer.

She was white-faced and a determined glint shone in her eyes. "Don't you ever dare kiss me like that again." 

In the car after rehearsal, turning to Peter, she looked down at her lap and quietly said, "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to take me to your flat. I want to go straight home."

At least Peter was sure that Jennifer had felt something in his kiss.

Saying nothing, he walked with her to her door. When she turned, her head lowered, to accept the usual light brushing of his lips through her hair. Peter slipped his arm around her waist and effortlessly lifted her until she was on her toes. Then, as her face lifted in surprise, softly he began to laugh.

Jennifer's lips opened as if she were about to speak and Peter kissed her words away, again rejoicing in the sweet softness of her mouth as his tongue slid in to plunder her treasures.

Her tongue battled Peter's as her body strained against his.

He bathed them both in the extreme depth of his feelings, which had so long lain dormant and so strongly suppressed. Beginning to tremble, he slowly released her.

Quickly Jennifer spun about and moved though her front door. Peter heard the door slam and she was gone. Inside she leant against the closed door.

Then Jennifer, inside her head, was talking again. "Peter, smash the door down. I want more of those delicious kisses but I'm so frightened. My body wants you so much but my mind is terrified. What's to become of me? Would I have known what to do if my brother hadn't arrived that night?"

She struggled off to bed weeping profusely.

The following afternoon she rang Peter. "Don't worry about collecting me for rehearsals next week. I'll get myself there and home."

Peter's mind exploded and his thoughts were blunt. Damn the woman. She's behaving as if I've raped a Vestal Virgin. For God's sake, why shouldn't I take her to rehearsals and home? He was bitter and he hurt.

"I didn't appreciate your behavior..." Jennifer added coldly.

By now, Peter had taken enough of the Prima Donna act. "What are you doing Saturday night?"

"I'm sorry." Her icy tones told him she wanted nothing more of him.

"Right! If that's the way you want it..." Peter's roar into the phone reflected his white-hot rage and his anger reflected his indignant frustration. "Who cares? Ring the Salvos, perhaps they care. See you at bloody rehearsals!" Peter's voice was icy and knife-edged severe as he slammed the telephone back into its cradle.

Eventually the rehearsal night arrived. 

Peter was there early , waiting in the shadows to see how Jennifer arrived at the hall. 

A taxi stopped and Jennifer stepped out but that did nothing to ease his aching heart.

The director took control. "Let's start at the top of Act 2."

Peter knew he had to speak. 

"One moment everybody!" He paused until he had the cast's full attention. "The other night, as villain, I got carried away and, unfortunately, caused the heroine considerable distress so now I apologize to her in front of you all and say because of my failure to behave as a gentleman I must resign from the show."

A cool silence seemed to echo across the stage. Jennifer was ashen.

The director broke the silence. "You'll do nothing of the sort. Rubbish! Without you as villain, we may as well all go home. Jennifer, I'll see you in the green room now."

Turning, he marched purposefully off.

"Sit!" He pointed to the chair on the opposite side of the table. Still standing, he spoke again, his voice calm yet intense.

"I don't know what happened as a result of that kiss. It's none of my business but I can assure you that Peter will be the villain as he has the ability to carry this play. I'm prepared to replace you but not him. If the two of you can't work together then you're gone. He stays."

Unable to believe what was happening, stony faced and white with shock, Jennifer listened.

"There's not a woman in the society who wouldn't change places with you. To be in his arms and to be kissed like that - well the women of the society admire him and he really is their idol. He's such a powerful yet gentle presence and protects them all. Not once has he made a pass at any of them or dated anyone.

"Then you arrive and it's obvious to us all that you hold his heart in your hands and you're too blind," his eyes narrowed to slits, "or too self-centered to notice it."

He stared at her for a long time before proceeding.

"Peter would be most annoyed about my revealing some of his history so please don't mention you know."

The director still stared at Jennifer who merely nodded. 

"Some years ago three men lay in wait for our women to leave a rehearsal. They sprang on one woman and, as they dragged her into a car, they began ripping her clothes off - making it obvious what they intended doing."

The director's words were enough to plunge Jennifer back to her teenage years.

As his words wafted over her, she felt herself falling and she had struggle hard to stop her body pitching to the floor.

She grasped the edge of the table tightly until her knuckles were white as her memory took her back to that dreadful night of her school ball. She shuddered uncontrollably and sobs racked her body as she relived her own terrifying ordeal. Memories struggled to the surface from deep down in her soul where they had remained hidden for so long.

Oblivious of her distress the director continued. "Peter flew across the car park and hurled one of the attackers against the wall where he lay still. The other two produced knives and all Peter did was laugh. 'Put them away or you're dead.' were Peter's words in a voice that really terrified me. He didn't seem in the least worried.

"The second attacker lunged towards Peter and then screamed as his own knife buried itself in his throat. The third man was watchful and danced around Peter searching for an opening until Peter tired of his antics and...

"When the police arrived there were three dead men, a car full of drugs and guns and one very frightened but very grateful member of the cast. Immediately the police had finished their investigation into the incident, Peter took the woman home. She later told us all how gently he undressed her, showered her and put her to bed. He spent that night and a lot more nights with her until she felt safe."

Jennifer looked up and began to speak but the director interrupted her.

"No, don't you dare insult the man! He didn't bed her. Yes, he undressed her that first night then sat beside the bed holding her hand and calming her nightmares. He even arranged and paid for her therapy.

"Several rehearsals later the remainder of the gang arrived in three cars to exact revenge. Peter calmly ordered me to call for ambulances and for police backup.

"Six men armed with clubs - no knives - were determined to beat him to death. All Peter could do was laugh - a glorious rib-tickling laugh - that seemed to echo across the parking lot. Then he spoke and his voice was enough to bring fear into my heart. 'Why didn't they send the men instead of the boys?'

"We could hear the wails of the sirens as he proceeded to tear the brave gang to shreds. Not one was left standing and some were on life-support for months." He shuddered before adding, "God, Peter's a walking, talking, killing machine.

"The police again laid no charges and were very surprised that he hadn't a single mark on him. Eventually only one of the gang survived and has been a paraplegic ever since.

"Yet, you come in here with his heart in your hand and treat him like scum. Well, none of us will stand for it. Make a decision tonight about whether you can work with him and whether you want to be the heroine. Let me know before you leave. If you can't work with him then I'll replace you."

"You can leave your script as you go."

Suddenly the director stood, walked around the table to put his hand on Jennifer's shoulder.

"I know Peter far too well. He has a depth to him I've seen in no man. He's never dated and I'll swear on a pile of Bibles he'll never harm you, but heaven help anyone who does."

Shuddering, he concluded, "Thank you for allowing me to be father. Come on, we have to rehearse."

Shaken and tearful Jennifer returned to the stage.

"Peter, we'll do the infamous kissing scene from the top. I'll be the heroine and if you dare kiss me, there'll be a new fight scene.

"Jennifer, watch the new heroine struggle." 

"Come, a kiss to seal the bargain!" Peter took the director as if he was a lightweight to bend him back in the classic pose and to a casual onlooker they would have been kissing. The director's arms beat against the villain's back and one leg shook in the air as if the heroine were struggling violently.

"My God, it's like being in the clutches of a Kodiak bear. No wonder you reacted the way you did, Jennifer," was the director's wry comment before calling each woman to stand in as the heroine and run through the same scene. 

"Hey! You're not supposed to wrap your arms around the villain's neck and kiss him as though he's a long lost lover," he admonished actress after actress.

Jennifer was green. Her jealousy was almost enough to rip the villain from the stand-in and scream, "He's mine - that's my Peter."

Finally, the director pulled Jennifer to one side.

"Be calm. Struggle as much as possible then twice as much again. Punch his back and wave your free leg in the air. Struggle! Struggle hard! However, when he kisses you, put as much passion in your kiss as you possibly can. Don't let him escape - put twice as much passion into your kiss and then stand back to watch the result. Don't be frightened - we'll protect you from the big lug."

Jennifer took to the stage and immediately the cast could hear the change in the villain. "A tasty morsel." meant so much more and she didn't have to see his stance.

Then those words echoed. "Come, a kiss to seal the bargain!"

She felt Peter's arms go around her and she felt safe. Slowly he bent her back and she remained as still as possible. Suddenly, she began struggling violently, seeming to gain strength although under the villain's power as she held the pose. She watched as, even more slowly, his lips closed on hers. Her mouth opened, her tongue began a love dance with his and she allowed her fire to scorch him as her two fists pounded his back. He tried to make his passion dampen her apparent resistance and his eyes attempted to bore into hers but her eyelids closed and the kissing went on.

Slowly he realised her hands were pushing him away and suddenly she was standing before him, glaring. Swept away by the passion of the moment he missed his cue.

Speechless and bewildered, the villain didn't hear the prompter's words although five times the she repeated the phrase. He stood staring sightlessly into space before realizing where he was as he stammered the next lines.

Roaring with laughter, clapping and shouting their delight, the cast stamped their feet.

"Come on, villain, what did the heroine do to you? You thought you were smart eh. Good for you, Jennifer, go for him. Rattle his chain again, Jennifer."

Breathless, confused and embarrassed, still shaking his head, Peter sat down.

Slowly Jennifer approached him, "Drive me home tonight and pick me up for all rehearsals, please, Peter. Forgive my silliness."

There was no further talk of resigning from the cast.

When Saturday night arrived, unable to contact Jennifer and needing some respite from work Peter accepted an invitation to meet Ted and Bob at the club. He believed that he most certainly didn't have to rely on Jennifer Blake for company. There would be plenty of girls at the dance willing to be his partner.

Bob was not visible but Ted was leaning over a dark haired woman. 

She seemed vaguely familiar and, before Peter could turn away, Ted waved, calling him across. "Ah, Peter, so glad you changed your mind and came. We were wondering if you would be here. Take Ruth off for a dance while I find Bob."

Smiling, Ruth took his hand and led him off. "We had a fantastic time at the trots." Her words were to Peter but her eyes followed Ted. She was smitten. "Ted knows so many people. We won so much. Where did you and Jennifer go? You left early and Jennifer has been terribly evasive lately. Karen and I want to know what you two did."

It was easy to evade her questions as she prattled on. All Peter wanted was for the music to end so he could deliver her back to Ted. Then he could prowl and tonight he was hunting and would be no gentleman.

Bob and Karen, Ted and Ruth, Peter and his hostility all made a cozy little group. 

"What's wrong, Peter? Lost your bet?" Bob grinned and bent to whisper in Karen's ear.

"There's someone here, you know." Ted's smirk told Peter nothing. 

Peter turned away to watch the dancers whirling and twisting in the latest craze. The crowd thinned and he stiffened. Two dancers had taken command of the floor. The redheaded young woman's skirt flew high above her waist as she flashed under, over and through the legs of her partner. So engrossed were the two, they were unaware the other dancers had stopped to watch their performance.

It was Jennifer. Peter stared horrified. This was the woman who reacted so badly to a mere kiss and who had fended him off on the phone.

Bob slapped Peter on the back. "It looks as though your friend does have fire. You were right, that's no Ice Maiden. My God, look at her," and leaning closer so that neither Ruth nor Karen could hear him he continued. "I should have tried harder. Bet you had a good time after the trots. No wonder you left early."

Peter didn't have to look at Bob to know his eyes filled with more than admiration. "Shut your bloody mouth. Shut up."

Peter's snarl was short and angry, brooking no denial and Bob turned back to the others. None of them dared to intrude into his mood again. They worried that he would vent his pique on them.

"Hello, fancy meeting you here?" Jennifer stood at Peter's elbow her face flushed with the exertions of the dance. Wiping perspiration from her face with a delicate lace handkerchief she continued, "You didn't tell me this was your scene. I thought you'd be home playing..."

The look on Peter's face frightened her so she stopped short.

"Your date certainly can dance," was Peter's angry reply.

The music restarted and before the pimply faced, disreputable youth dragged her off, Peter stood between them.

"If you hurt Jennifer in any way you'll answer to me." Peter allowed his voice to show that he wanted to snap this youth into two.

Turning to Jennifer, he stated loudly and clearly, "Bet he gets invited in for coffee. Or will it be more than coffee?"

Jennifer turned white. Trembling and crying, she shrugged herself free of the young man's hand. Her thoughts screamed in her head. What have I done? I don't want you to leave. I need you.

Peter couldn't hear her thoughts as his head hung in sudden shame. He put up no resistance as security escorted him from the premises.

He hurt. He hurt so much.

He couldn't stay to see Jennifer enjoying herself with some other man. To watch her in someone else's arms would cause a violent explosion.

"God, what brought that on?" was Bob's comment. "I really thought he was going to take that fellow apart. What happened to our friend?"

The cool of the evening did nothing to bring him to his senses and driving the car only gave him time to brood. He seemed to be driving aimlessly until the workshop loomed into view. Zombie-like, soul-dead Peter donned his overalls and began dismantling the latest damaged car.

Jennifer could go to hell. He'd get this car ready for painting. The parts were there. Then he could do some work on the race car. His mind, overloaded with anger, love and disappointment, closed down as he worked on the car slowly turning to the job in hand.

Then slowly his mind turned to the race car. There must be a way of lightening the chassis and getting a few more revs out of that motor. Bob did enjoy the winner's rostrum and it was up to me to give Bob the best. I need no one.

Every slam with the hammer crashed into that little man's face as he danced with Jennifer and in the glare of the welding flame Peter could see Jennifer's face vibrant with enjoyment. The vigorous actions of cutting, welding and hammering the torn, twisted metal began to purge his soul and the angry hurt began to drain into just a deep black void as he became more engrossed in the job.

The shrill ringing of the phone disturbed him. He tried to ignore it but it just drilled into his consciousness until finally he picked it up.

"Peter, can you help me?" Mrs. Williams, one of his customers, sounded relieved. "I'm at the club and my car won't start. Since that episode after rehearsals, I'm frightened of going into any car park to catch a cab. I'm so sorry to have to call you, but I had no one else I could call."

"That's okay. I'll be there in ten minutes. Wait inside the main doors by the security stand and I'll flash the lights three times. You'll be safe. I'll get your car running on Monday and have an apprentice drive it home for you. Now wait there and stop worrying." 

Peter groaned, his thoughts in turmoil. Oh for God's sake, why? Why me? I'd drive to the moon for Jennifer but it's not her calling. It's Mrs. Williams. Why me? Just because I rescued her that infamous night doesn't mean I'm her white knight forever.

The car lights flashed three times and Susie Williams wasted no time sliding into the passenger's seat. Her short blonde hair reflected the latest hairstyle. Her sheer, skin-tight blouse and brief, flared skirt displayed her feminine charms to advantage.

"I hoped you were working - you're always working. You're a life saver and I do appreciate your help." Under the illumination of the interior light, her blue eyes gleamed and she lightly drew the tip of her tongue across her lipstick as if checking its taste but Peter ignored her response as he began driving her home.

"Come in and let me get you a drink. At least I can do that as thanks."

Peter's thoughts reflected his sorrow. How different to Jennifer. Why? Why doesn't Jennifer unwind, just bend a little? I wouldn't hurt her.

No sooner had they entered her apartment than Susie poured a long fruit juice for both of them, and Peter, standing so close, couldn't help noticing her warmth and softness as she stared up into his eyes. Her lips slightly parted as if demanding a kiss when she proffered the glass.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 05



Hell, why not? I owe Jennifer nothing. She is enjoying that creature's arm about her. I wonder if she also enjoys his kisses. Why shouldn't I do the same? The thoughts flashed through his mind as he bent to accept Susie's offer. Fire coursed though his veins as her free arm wrapped itself around his neck trying to arouse him even more.

Yet the taste was wrong and the smell was wrong. This was not his Jennifer.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Williams." Peter drew back, aghast. After all, she was a married woman and a customer. "I'll finish this drink and go."

"I'm Susie. Call me Susie and don't apologize. After all, you did rescue me after that rehearsal. You didn't pause to think. Those men could have killed you. I was grateful for that then and now I'm grateful again. Don't apologize. I enjoyed that. You taste so..."

She licked her lips as though cream covered them and preened herself like a cat before a warm winter's fire. "You taste so powerful and so male. Sit over here and don't be in such a hurry to leave." Susie sat on the divan and patted the seat beside her.

Desperate to cling to his code of chivalry, Peter allowed excuse after excuse to tumble out.

"My overalls are far too dusty, I'll shed dust everywhere. I must get back and finish the job. You're far too beautiful for this poor, crass man who couldn't do justice to your beauty and... and... and..."

Stammering and blushing he hoped Susie would allow him to leave. "No, I'd better go." Peter had no experience of what to do in this situation. What the hell is expected of me?

"What? Leave me all alone, on a Saturday night?" She seemed disappointed. "If dust worries you the shower's through there."

She pointed through the bedroom door. "I'll bring a dressing gown and some slippers for you."

She positively glowed, and clearly, she didn't intend giving up easily.

What a difference. Jennifer objected to Peter's attentions and to his kisses - offended by his feelings. Tonight, Susie was handing him a flagrant invitation, and should he leave and not grab the package offered, Susie would be most disappointed.

"You're all muscle and sinew," was Susie's comment as she came into Peter's arms, demanding a kiss.

Peter's hand stole into her blouse, gently cupping her breast and his touch met, not a hostile gesture of rejection, but a soft gasp - a sucking of breath.

"Oh, Peter. You're so gentle." She drew back a little to study Peter's face, then, throwing both arms around his neck, plunged her tongue deep into his mouth in surrender.

Slowly as he kissed her, trying to will his mind into believing this was Jennifer, he began unbuttoning her blouse.

Susie made no objection.

Convinced he was what she needed, Peter carried her like a baby to her bedroom.

She wanted to undress him but he grasped her wrists not allowing her hands to wander across his back as he kissed the blouse from her shoulders then her skirt from her hips. He knew he should be aroused as, using his teeth, he slid her lacy panties down her legs.

With her naked body face down on her bed, Peter knelt between her legs as she begged him to take her. His hands lightly traced erotic patterns on her back and her buttocks before he began to kiss her relentlessly. He drew on all the training of Yin and Yang from his youth to please her as he slowly drew forth her moans and whimpers.

As if he were some primeval beast, he unsheathed his claws dragging his fingernails lightly across her shoulder blades, the small of her back and her buttocks. As Susie shrieked her agony, the smoothing, silken smoothness of his kisses replaced the fire of the nails biting into her flesh as again he kissed her from her neck to the backs of her knees.

Moving to the floor he knelt, terrified that should Susie feel his back she would be repulsed.

Susie rolled over and stared at him with passion-filled eyes as his fingers danced a light tattoo across her breasts and her belly, studiously avoiding her nipples and her sex.

Peter massaged her legs, her belly, her breasts and her arms. It was a long, slow process as he studied the feminine form in front of him, wishing all the while that it were Jennifer.

Breathing her in, he worshipped her with his hands, his eyes and lips. Peter advanced slowly towards her inner thighs and pelvis.

He could only look down on her passion-contorted features as she begged, "Oh, please ... please ... please ... Oh, God."

This was not the woman he wanted to love. She was nothing to Peter but a soft pliable warm body on which to play a merry tune. He felt no desire and his body showed no arousal. He explored her breasts and worshipped her sex – her yoni - as her eyes rolled.

Begging for release Susie panted, thrusting her moist treasure towards his lips.

Ignoring her desire, he allowed his mind to travel back to his education in Malaysia and he brought more of those lessons into play.

Susie would remember this night with fondness - Peter was an experienced man. She was discovering the difference as Peter played with her body, demanding she reach even greater heights of pleasure.

Ignoring her cries to stop, Peter continued until she lost consciousness.

Then, crying softly that this was not Jennifer, he admitted to himself that he had no interest in her, and no wish to penetrate that soft, warm, fragrant offering. Disgusted at his own behavior he left.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 06



That same night when he returned to the workshop, Peter's mind was too full of the job in hand to even think about women until, as if waking from a nightmare he noticed the workshop was flooded with sunlight.

Sunday had dawned, his body was aching, his mind was black with self-disgust. Yet, Bob and Ted expected him to go surfing with them.

Barely had Peter arrived home when the lift arrived at his door. "God, you look terrible. Out on the tiles all night, eh?" Bob thrust his cheery face into Peter's somber countenance. "All right, where is she?"

Pushing past Peter, he walked straight into the first bedroom. He checked each room in turn.

"The beds are all made and you're still wearing the same clothes as last night. Oh, ho? So, she took you to her place. You're sure a quiet one."

He shouted back towards Peter as the lift doors closed behind him. "Hurry, shave and change. We'll wait. It's a beautiful day."

Towel over his shoulder, wearing a T-shirt and a sarong with swimmers underneath, slowly Peter walked into the street realizing he had not slept.

"You don't look too happy this morning. Get out of the wrong side of the bed, eh?" Ted waved from his car. "Look who's with us."

Peter didn't know whom to hate most - Jennifer or himself. 

If it hadn't been for Jennifer's date with that man, dancing with such pleasure in his arms, he would not have been in the workshop and wouldn't have made a fool of himself with Susie who must now think of him as an immature idiot. 

Peter felt wretched, unable to be pleasant.

"This car's full." Peter knew that was the truth. Karen, Bob, Ruth and Ted were a load for any car, particularly as Bob was trying to wrestle Karen on the back seat.

"Take Jennifer in your car and follow us." Ted was doing his best to be helpful.

Bob stopped mauling Karen long enough to add, "Jennifer, off you go and calm the bear if you can. He looks like a walking thunder cloud."

Jennifer placed her cool hand on Peter's and he winced, drawing away as if burnt. "Whatever's the matter?"

"Nothing!" The snarl showed Peter could barely be civil.

"Is it me?"

Peter could only shake his head. "Oh for Christ's sake, why would anything you do affect me? No, of course not, you just have dates with any old person while I just don't count. Whatever could be the matter with me?" Unchecked, his anger rose unbidden to the surface.

He knew he was being objectionable but he couldn't help himself. Although his two fathers' words about being a control freak echoed in his mind, he lost his self-restraint.

"Is it something I've done?" Jennifer persevered.

"How could anything you do affect me?" Peter had to stop the car, as he felt faint. 

His caustic sneer aired before he could control it. "You're a free agent, you do as you like. Dance with whomever you wish. Don't date me, date everyone else." Realizing he'd said too much he quickly added, "Nothing you do affects me." 

As he drove he lamely concluded, "It's just the pressure of work."

Jennifer sat huddled against the door, her forehead dropped, unwilling to look at him.

How Peter ached to hold her, smooth her worried frown and brush her hair from her face. If only he could wipe the memory of last night from his mind. 

"I've enjoyed the rehearsals but..." She noticed the squaring of Peter's shoulders yet continued in a soft whisper, "then I became frightened and had to ring you and spoil it." She began to weep quietly against the window.

Oh, no, you don't. Peter's mind replied. You're a block of ice - an Ice Maiden doesn't cry, his thoughts froze his heart. "What rubbish." He was still bitter. "You did nothing." She would get neither sympathy nor confession from him.

If the others noticed Peter's exhaustion as he lay on the sand with the usual T-shirt covering his back, they said nothing, preferring to drag Jennifer off to gambol in the surf rather than break through the wall Peter had built around himself.

Lunchtime arrived and cold water drenching him rudely awakened Peter. With a roar he hurled himself onto the grinning Bob perfectly prepared to wreak his vengeance on him but Ted and the girls attacked him from all sides until he was pinned on his back with a grinning Jennifer lying across his chest her smiling face just inches from his.

"For heaven's sake, Peter behave. Pull yourself together." Quietly Ted whispered in Peter's ear, trying to bring him back to sanity, as he lay there captured.

"What happened last night? Jennifer was there to dance with you," Peter believed he was about to faint, "and after you were tossed out I had to drive her home." 

Looking at Jennifer for confirmation Ted continued with his growl, "You've spoilt everyone's morning and now you've tried to kill Bob. Listen, you great bear, behave! What happened last night?"

"I suddenly remembered a car had to be finished by Monday and we'd been held up for parts. These only arrived on Friday so I spent all last night working on it."

They were not getting the satisfaction of the truth from him. What else was he to say? No, he couldn't admit he was so jealous that he wanted to smash that grinning face dancing with Jennifer.

"I'd only just driven home when you arrived. I was beaten but at least the customer will be pleased. His car's ready for the final touches and will be finished late Monday."

"You'll kill yourself. That's twice recently you've worked all night. Remember all work and no play makes Peter a dull boy." Ted smiled. With a roar, he grabbed Peter's legs. "Come on. Let's throw him in."

Peter didn't struggle. They were his friends and, besides, two soft, cool, feminine hands held his head.

The water shocked him into the awareness of what a cantankerous bastard he had been all morning. 

As soon as he surfaced, he threw himself towards Jennifer, who, screaming, attempted to dive for safety. Slippery and struggling though she was, Peter lifted her high and she wrapped those long legs around his waist to stop Peter throwing her into the surf.

Grinning, Peter slowly slid her down his body until he almost seated her on his arousal.

Shocked, she opened her mouth to admonish him, wondering what mayhem he was about to cause. Her eyes were bottomless pools of cool green in which Peter wanted to drown.

His head drew closer and she didn't turn way. Her struggling stopped, and motionless, she stared until their lips touched. 

Peter reeled. The light touch of their lips scalded him but he was careful not to frighten her as her arms about his neck tightened.

Breathless, she allowed her legs to unlock and, on tiptoes, she stood facing Peter.

"You're a big bully." The cool pits of green twinkled and sparkled in merriment. "Fancy taking advantage of an innocent young girl where she couldn't struggle or she'd drown."

Peter didn't point out the water was only knee deep. 

Jennifer pushed him away but he just moved closer to her. The ache to hold her was urgent and he had no intention of struggling against it.

There in the surf, repeatedly he kissed her, oblivious of everything, until her body sagged against his. Only then did he release her.

Holding her hand, he led her back to the others. 

"You'll get sun burnt. Lie down on my towel." Peter enjoyed ordering Jennifer about as though she were his and he began rubbing sunscreen into her shoulders and back. She lay still until he used the tips of his fingers to beat a butterfly's dance up her legs and then onto her inner thighs.

He knew that he was being offensive as her muscles tightened but still he leant closer to whisper in her ear. "Roll over and I'll do the front."

With one arm raised to lash out, she whipped over but Peter's roar of laughter as he hurled himself backwards out of reach surprised her. 

"You're a nut," she grinned. "You're mad. You knew damn well what you were doing." Becoming girlish and coy she shyly added, "A girl isn't safe with you about."

"But you are safe with me Jennifer – always safe." Peter stopped her with his kiss. She made no effort to push him away. 

"You're coming home with me," he whispered as he lay alongside her. 

Although her head rose in protest he ignored her, continuing, "Oh, I know. No funny business. Do you think I'm as stupid as I look?" 

Back went Jennifer's head as she stared at Peter trying to read his mind.

"You can listen to music while I cook. I promise you a meal such as you'd get nowhere else. All charcoal and burnt offerings." 

He grinned as she tittered. "I promise you no funny business. I'll seal the bargain right now."

Again, they kissed and again there was a change. No turning away, no reticence and Jennifer used a finger to trace a light path along his jaw.

The return trip was different. They chattered and laughed but no mention was made of the previous night.

The moment they entered Peter's apartment he dived for the third bedroom. "I'll have the first shower. The door's not locked so I'd appreciate all the help I can get." 

He laughed at her surprise. "The second bedroom can be locked. Use the shower there. In the cupboards and drawers are some clothes which may fit you."

Jennifer couldn't believe her ears and moved to the second bedroom. When she walked into the hanging space, she gasped. 

The rack was full of matching clothes. Shoes of the most delicate colors and exquisite taste were neatly stacked on the floor. She opened a drawer full of bras. 

Someone had packed one drawer with matching delicate panties and yet another with matching underwear of varying hues and types. 

She checked and everything was her size. What's going on? This Peter has some questions to answer. Angrily she stormed into Peter's bedroom without knocking.

He was standing with only a sarong draped around his waist - his bare back to her. 

Hearing her gasp of horror, Peter turned and, white-faced, sank to his knees, his head in his hands. "Oh, God. No. No. No. No. Noooooo!" was all he could endlessly repeat before he started weeping.

She rushed to drop beside him. "Peter, Peter, your back. Oh, your poor back. What happened?"

"Please, Jennifer, don't ask. Please don't ask."

Slowly she rose and pressed his head against her thighs as she held him tightly. "Peter, if you want a future with me I will ask and you will answer with the truth. I have some questions and I demand answers - the truth, hear me." 

She stood over him her hands on his head, trying to console him as she added, "Those clothes. You said that you've never had a woman other than me in your apartment, yet those clothes..."

Slowly he looked up as he painfully climbed to his feet and his eyes reflected the pain in his soul. "Please, Jennifer. The clothes are yours. Please wear them with my love."

She looked at this pitiful wreck of the Peter she knew and her heart went out. "I'll wear them with pride, if I get truthful answers to my questions."

"I promise, my darling." Peter's lips trembled as he uttered those words for the first time in his life. They not only sounded good but they felt good and he found the strength to continue.

"For heaven's sake, don't drop that sarong or I'll faint." Jennifer tried to lighten the atmosphere. 

"I'll shower and change but there are so many clothes to select from. It may take hours." Jennifer was astounded. Her shampoo was there, her perfume, her makeup, her lipstick. Everything! She selected a simple T-shirt and jeans. Bare-footed she walked back to Peter.

She found him prostrate before the small altar that featured his parents' picture, oblivious to her presence. Praying, he seemed to be asking their permission for something. Then, unseeing, as if a robot, he staggered into the main bedroom. Dropping to his knees once more, he began reciting the Lord's Prayer. 

What kind of man is this? I need answers and I need them before I leave. Jennifer could not believe what was happening.

Peter completed his prayers. Then, still unmindful of her presence, he moved to his music center and pushed the play button. Suddenly the sounds of the Welsh Hymn, 'Cwm Rhondda' ('Guide me Oh Thy Great Jehovah') resounded through the apartment. Peter filled his chest and sang with the music. With no restraint, his voice echoed in every room and he did not pause even when the English changed to Welsh. The music died and he dropped his head and waited. He did not have long to wait for the sounds of the 23rd Psalm, the tune Crimmond, to fill the room. Weeping, he began, "The Lord's my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me down to lie in pastures green." The Psalm ended and Peter turned to see Jennifer watching him closely.

"Darling, I do owe you some answers. I'll explain and be truthful." He paused, wondering just how little he could reveal and yet satisfy this woman. He knew that he would not reveal his total history. It was too horrendous.

Should he tell the complete truth with all its full gory details Jennifer would run. He would be alone again. That was something he was not prepared to risk.

Darling - he has used that word again. Jennifer's thoughts raced but she remained adamant. 

"I have some questions for you. I want answers."

Making no comment Peter led her to the settee facing the view. He then placed the picture and altar on the coffee table. Next he took the commemorative plaque down from the wall and positioned it on the table between them before squatting, Asian style, on the floor his sarong about him opposite her. He seemed a new man as he looked at her, and the pain she saw before seemed to have flown.  

Those deadly looking khukuris were nearby and the inscription and coat of arms seemed to have a message for her. 

New strength showed in his bearing and his eyes. "You ask and I'll answer truthfully. If I become upset bear with me as I'll be reliving hurtful memories. However, no matter how hurtful the memories, I'll be truthful. I owe you that. I can only hope my words calling you darling are still acceptable when the questions end." 

With his shoulders drooped, he waited for the dreaded kiss of madam la guillotine.

"Are you gay?"

Peter's head snapped up and his face broke into a broad smile as he roared with laughter. Even his eyes were laughing. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, you kissed me on the hair that first night and have never tried any funny business. It's almost as though you enjoy my company but don't want me as a woman."

"My God, every time I'm with you I'm on fire with my love and need for you. I have to fight my baser, animal urges, as I don't want a simple 'roll in the hay' with you. I want you, totally!" 

Grinning, Peter enjoyed Jennifer's furious blushes as he continued.

"I want you permanently. I want us to grow old together with our children around us but that will only come if I can gain your trust and love. I'm not gay. I'm one warm-blooded Australian Man and I want you and you alone. But..." 

He did not elaborate.

Seeing Jennifer's confusion Peter threw his head back and laughed. "Darling, I'm not gay." He paused before staring hard into her eyes. "I have everything. Without you I have nothing." 

Peter smiled. "Does that answer your question? I'm not gay. I'm a red-blooded, hot-blooded hetero-sexual man but you're always safe with me. Next question."

"Are you a ballet dancer?" 

Peter looked puzzled until Jennifer continued.

"At the bar you..." 

More peals of laughter interrupted her. Chuckling he struggled to answer.

"Me, a ballet dancer? Good God, no. Suffice to say I learned a few routines to amuse the children last Christmas at Westmead Children's Hospital where I also played Santa Claus. I saw you laughing at my feeble efforts and it made all the hours of endless rehearsals invaluable."

Jennifer sat, unbelieving at the new depth of character this man had revealed. Eventually she broke the silence.

"The clothes?"

"Your clothes," Peter corrected.

"My clothes. How and why?"

"I contacted David Jones, fashion department, and had the manageress send you three tickets to their fashion parade and you accepted." 

Listening intently, Jennifer didn't interrupt. 

"I had the fashion buyer get your measurements and then select the clothes to match your coloring."

"But why?"

"Because it's you. You are the only woman in the world I..." His voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper and although Jennifer strained to hear his words, she failed.

"Are you or have you been a criminal?"

"Whatever made you ask that question?" Peter looked puzzled. 

"Well, some Asian countries flog criminals - and - your back..." Jennifer couldn't continue.

Peter stood and walked to her, then knelt, placing his head in her lap. "Feel the lash marks. Feel my torment. Feel my vengeance."

Jennifer was shocked at the vehemence in his voice and his sorrow. Gently she traced her fingers across his shoulders, wondering at the scars that started at his hips or perhaps lower and covered his whole back.

Peter gently lowered his sarong and her hands traced even more scars across his buttocks. Someone had flogged him many times - unmercifully. There was not a single inch of flesh from his buttocks to his shoulders that was free of the lash scars. 

Standing proudly before her, he carefully refitted his sarong.

'This is my Peter,' were Jennifer's first thoughts. 'He is so proud and so straight.'

He turned and seemed to fiddle with the altar on the table before laying a small cigarette-like piece of bamboo before her and unsheathing one of the deadly looking Khukuris. 

Jennifer noted that he nicked himself so there was blood on the blade when he laid it beside the piece of bamboo. Shuddering she knew his story was about to be told.

"You asked me what the inscription says, and I wouldn't tell you. Now I will do so. The inscription says," and Jennifer marveled at the change in her man - he stood taller in military pose and looking straight ahead, as his fingers traced the words, he translated. 

"To Honorary Major of the 6th Ghurkha Brigade, Peter O'Brien. Let no man be fooled The Little One is a man to be feared."

Slowly Peter dropped to his knees before Jennifer. "Yes. I am The Little One, but don't mistake its meaning. I was the youngest Honorary Major of all time. I was sixteen."

Jennifer tried to interrupt but Peter just put his fingers to her lips to hush her. 

"Wait! The story has only just started."

He sat her down before him – simply on the floor, and began his story.

"My parents and I were living in Penang, Malaysia. I was six when I arrived home from school one day. Hearing moans and groans coming from the direction of my parents' bedroom I rushed in to see a very large, very ugly Chinese between my naked mother's legs while she rolled her head backwards and forwards moaning. 'Oh God. No. Please no. You mustn't. My husband...'" 

With tears in his eyes, Peter squeezed Jennifer's hands as he took a deep breath before continuing. 

"I leapt on the back of the Chinese and beat him with my fists. Laughing, the Chinese hurled me against a wall and bellowed to the cook, to take The Little One out.

"Our cook and our amah took me out into the servants' quarters to impress on me the need to say nothing to my father."

Putting his head in Jennifer's lap Peter paused but held her hands tightly in his as if seeking her strength to help him to continue.

Jennifer was ashen and speechless. Pandora's Box was open and she had to accept the consequences. She sat, unable to interrupt as the story unfolded. 

"I remember that we had packed and were off for a holiday to the Cameron Highlands, the cool resort area. Mum and Dad could not stop hugging and kissing and saying it was their second honeymoon. 

"But one incident of the trip is burnt into my brain. We drove around a wide sweeping bend to find the way blocked by an overloaded truck. My father got out to see what the trouble was. A burst of gunfire startled Mum and me. She looked terrified and my father was dead.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 06



"Suddenly the doors flew open. Someone threw filthy, stinking bags over my head and tied me to a bamboo pole. Slung like a pig going to market between two men, I was carried into the jungle at a brisk trot."

Sighing, Peter looked at Jennifer. "Do I go on?"

"You still haven't explained your back."

"Do you promise that my story goes no further than you?"

Jennifer nodded.

"I was taken prisoner at the age of six and, for the next six years, became a slave, whipping post and student. My masters flogged me until I learned to speak Mandarin, Cantonese and Hokkien, to read and write Mandarin, speak, read and write Malay, Thai and Tamil as well learning the art of disguise. They used me as a punching bag until I learned how to protect myself. 

"Because my mother was also a prisoner, they knew that I'd keep my mouth shut and, with brown contact lenses to conceal my blue Christian eyes, I was their spy. I went into neighboring kampongs, Malay villages, to steal, to gather information or to pass on orders.

"To add to my misery the leader of the thugs shot my Mother. Not many months after her shooting I had a khukuri at my throat. A platoon of Ghurkhas that had been following the fleeing band had rescued me."

Sightless, Peter stared at Jennifer. Then, groaning, he returned to the present. 

"I believe that's enough to answer your questions. I've said too much already." Peter dropped his head into his hands and Jennifer could see he was weeping - the memory of his mother and father and their deaths too vivid. Through his tears, he sobbed words she could scarcely hear.

"The full story is for my future wife when she first agrees to marry me."

Jennifer slid to the floor beside him and rocked him in her arms. 

Peter lay there, wrapped in her comfort and warmth for what seemed ages. 

Finally, he stood and helped her to her feet. 

"Let's dress and go to eat. You can practice using your chopsticks again."

Jennifer remembered the Chinese restaurant very well and when the waiter approached, she grinned at Peter as she spoke. "Tell the Boss The Little One is here." Peter could only smile back at her.

The headwaiter had eyes only for her and smiled at Jennifer saying, "I see that you've tamed The Little One. Hold onto him... he's really special."

"I know," was Jennifer's reply.

He led them to a corner table where even the arrival of the meal didn't stop their holding hands. Again, they ate well and Jennifer was amazed at how easily she could accept Peter's Cantonese and how effortlessly she managed the chopsticks.

As they left Jennifer inquired, "Why was the Boss so interested in me?"

"He has never seen me with a woman before so he assumed..." Peter's voice trailed off as Jennifer hugged his arm tightly.

Back at Peter's apartment, Jennifer attempted to return to the prior discussion of Peter's life but he ignored her questions instead asking, "Would you please be my partner at a very special event next Saturday? You must trust me enough to ask no questions."

Jennifer hesitated for a long time, before whispering a shy, "Yes."

"Then the special event is - on Saturday morning at 9 am a limousine will pick you up at your apartment. The driver will take you to various places all day. You will do exactly as you're told - exactly." 

Holding up one hand, Peter stopped Jennifer's questions

"You'll eat a light luncheon and I'll pick you up at say 7pm. You will be my Cinderella and I shall try very hard to be your Prince Charming although I do believe I make a better frog. Ask no questions now. Are you sure you still want me as your Prince Charming?"

"Where..."

"I said no questions - not one."

"Peter, you can be such a confusing bugger."

Ignoring her comment, he stood and seemed to fiddle at the back of the altar before saying, "Close your eyes, and open your hands." 

Jennifer did as bid and allowed Peter to lift her to her feet and lead her into her bedroom. 

"Open your eyes." 

She gasped. In her hands were the two diamond earrings and the diamond necklace she had seen around his mother's neck. 

"These are for my wife and I hope against hope that the lady of my life will be you. The gems are yours to wear on Saturday night. They are on loan to you, shall we say, and perhaps if I can win your love, they are yours and your daughter's forever."

Jennifer could only stare at the jewels in her hands. Slowly she turned away from Peter and still studying the jewels, quietly walked to the mirror. 

"Can I put them on now so you can see them on me?" Without waiting for an answer, she pushed him out of the room before closing the door. Delighted, she made a careful selection of underwear and a dress with a moderately plunging neckline so the diamond necklace could glitter with joy, sitting in the shadow of her cleavage.

"Oh, hell, you're so beautiful, and I'm such a frog," were Peter's words when she left the bedroom, but Jennifer would have none of it.

She reached up and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"If that's the case, then you're my own special Frog." 



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 07



Saturday arrived after a week of hectic rehearsals. 

Growing even closer to Jennifer, wanting her so much it hurt, Peter could not help walking around with a huge grin on his face as he wondered how Jennifer was coping. His thoughts showed his plans were falling into place. 

In the taxi, he began muttering to himself.

"It's so naughty of me not to tell her but it will be so delicious to see the surprise on her face."

Sitting in the barber's chair, he waited for a shave and haircut. He knew that he had to look his best. 

Across town, with beauticians hovering over her, Jennifer was perplexed, 

"Peter can be a real bugger," she said to herself in a most unlady-like manner. She had two girls giving her a manicure - including false nails - two giving her a pedicure and yet another giving her hair a rinse 'to bring out the highlights', so they told Jennifer. 

The beauticians creamed her face and her neck. They gave her shoulders even more intense treatment and didn't allow Jennifer to touch a thing. They even applied her make-up meticulously.

By four o'clock, they were satisfied and, with hair piled high on her head in the manner of regency, she was travelling in the limousine to the next stop of the day -- a very expensive-looking boutique.

The owner met Jennifer at the entrance and led her inside to displays of expensive evening gowns and accessories that were even more expensive.

"Ah, Miss Blake, you look beautiful. Let me see what I have for you." 

By 6.30, after hours of dressing Jennifer in various evening gowns he seemed satisfied and moved onto the next item on his list. He asked Jennifer, "Have you done as Mr. Peter required and brought the diamonds?" 

Unable to speak, Jennifer nodded, opened her purse and handed them to the owner who hung the necklace around her neck and pinned the earrings to her ears. 

"Oh, before I forget. This is a gift from Mr. Peter who said it is yours as a thank you for being his escort for the night." 

He clipped a diamond tiara to Jennifer's hair before leading her to a full-length mirror.

Unbelieving, Jennifer stared at her reflection showing the transformation that had been wrought. 

The green silk ball gown was just the right color for her and the diamonds seemed to accentuate the fire in her eyes. She knew that she would enjoy dancing in those green slippers. Smiling she projected her thoughts into the mirror. 'What had Peter said about Cinderella? Well, bring on the Pumpkin Coach.'

The limousine was no longer empty as Jennifer carefully walked down the steps from the shop. Peter was standing holding the door open, his face a picture of awe. 

"Jennifer, thank you so much. Thank you for tonight -- a night to treasure."

Her silk gown dipped low from her shoulders and seemed to hang there by the strength of will power alone. Her waist was emphasized as the gown flared over her hips. The touch of lace at the bodice snuggled warmly against the silken pillows of her breasts heightening the regal rise of her neck. Gleaming in Jennifer's auburn hair, swept up to pile high on her head, was the tiara while the diamonds glittering at her neck seemed to set her green eyes ablaze. The earrings were just the balance needed.

Jennifer was surprised that Peter didn't attempt to touch her or kiss her and, when she sat, he didn't try to sit beside her but sat opposite. He said nothing but his eyes told her a complete story of his devotion and his belief in her beauty.

Eventually, the limousine stopped and the chauffeur opened the door. Peter alighted to turn and help Jennifer step out into the forecourt of the Sydney Opera House. 

She paused to study Peter anew. In white tie and tails, he looked so elegant. Taking his proffered arm, she leant into his ear. 

"You're so handsome, my frog prince, so very handsome you've won Cinderella's heart."

Slowly they climbed the long flight of red-carpeted steps and turned to walk across the foyer to the restaurant. Flash after flash of news cameras hindered their progress and Peter tried to appear inconspicuous. 

With their incessant questions, reporters swooped on Jennifer while completely ignoring Peter. 

Laughing nervously and smiling, she answered their questions while Peter allowed her the limelight until, tiring of the attention, she tightened her grip on his arm and they were ushered to their table overlooking the harbor.

Jennifer leant across the table, her hand in Peter's.

"You scrub up well. I hardly recognized you in the formal wear." Her smile told him she was teasing.

"I had to scrub up particularly well to match your beauty."

"Peter," Jennifer was suddenly shy, "Will you kiss me, please?" 

Peter slowly rose to his feet. Moving to her side and bending low, he cupped her chin in his hand. He kissed her gently, trying not to smear her lipstick.

"You can do better than that," Jennifer laughed and her hand snaked into his hair and pulled him hard into her open mouth. Flash bulbs almost blinded Peter as he stood breathlessly trying to re-gather his wits.

The passion in her kiss almost consumed him.

Smiling broadly, Jennifer reminded him of their acting as he regained his seat.

"Come, a kiss to seal the bargain. I owed you that."

Dinner over, Peter led Jennifer to their seats. 

"Please sit on my right, Jennifer. That seat has always been vacant but tonight I have the most beautiful woman possible sitting with me. You know what makes it even better? She wants to be with me." He squeezed her hand.

The lights dimmed and the orchestra struck up. The potpourri of tunes from Die Fledermaus made Jennifer's feet tap and she clung to Peter as the opera progressed. At the end of Act One Peter escorted Jennifer from her seat around to the stage door where the number of people who knew him astonished Jennifer. He led her to the side of the stage where they stood, in the wings with a crowd of couples all attired in evening dress. Peter put his arm around her as if he were about to dance with her. 

Suddenly the opening bars of 'Dui Du' struck up.

Jennifer felt the pressure of Peter's hand in the center of her back as he turned her, unresisting, towards him and took up her other hand. In one smooth move, he whirled her into the waltz, her feet following his as he swept her out onto the stage. Effortlessly, they seemed to be moving perfectly in time with the dancers around them. Peter and Jennifer had become part of the opera chorus.

Peter had never waltzed this way with any woman. 

In this, his first glide onto the stage with Jennifer in his arms, he enjoyed the pure joy of dancing with this wonderful young woman he loved. Yes, with his mind he had thought long and hard of the word love and of Jennifer. Now, with Jennifer so close to him, the music swelling and the opera chorus swirling around them, his body was responding with strong reactions he had hitherto repressed. 

Every ounce of his body focused on her. Above the strains of the orchestra and despite the singing he was conscious of her every movement, her every breath. Her essence filled his lungs and his whole body filled with his love of her.

He was intoxicated with this woman as he danced. His arms held her tighter and tighter as if he was terrified she would flee. 

He was desperate to keep her for himself.

At first, Jennifer closed her eyes then she became intensely aware of every place on her body where it brushed against Peter. Her breasts tingled where they met his chest and her thighs rejoiced when they rubbed against this man of hers. His hand on her back made her body exult with the strength of his firm touch.

She looked up into Peter's eyes as they loomed closer and closer until their lips touched and they were kissing as they danced. She was oblivious of everything but then the music stopped and the wild applause started. 

Dragging her head back to Peter's chest Jennifer was too terrified to look over the spotlights. 

Then, slowly, the strains of the waltz gathered speed and again they were dancing and again Peter was kissing her. He felt the softness of her lips as he tenderly put his lips to hers. 

The reprise seemed to slow down as if they had been dancing for hours but Peter's attention was totally on Jennifer. He wanted to hold her against him forever, to protect her. He needed to know her tenderness and love. 

He admitted to himself that he wanted this feeling with her and her alone.

Returning his attention to the action around him as if knowing what to do, Peter danced her off stage before the waltz ended and they stood in the wings kissing, unmindful of the world around them, until a voice commented, "No wonder opera gets a bad name," and one of their fellow dancers laughed his way past.

Again, Peter took charge.

"Stop Peter, where are we going?"

"I saw you watching those men in their tights with those big bulges which are really socks to encourage wistful thinking by the women patrons. I thought you would like to meet some of the male dancers and find out if those bulges were real." 

He couldn't help laughing at Jennifer's look of dismay.

"But just be careful - they're renowned gropers."

At the party following the performance, Peter made no comment when the male dancers vied to dance with her. Trying to push his jealousy aside, he watched Jennifer twist and twirl in their arms. Then, unable to hide his feelings any longer he broke in, smiling and taking her arm.

"This young lady is mine."

Jennifer also showed her jealousy when later she abandoned her partner to break in as one of the ballerinas was dancing far too close to her Peter.

Happy, they walked hand in hand across the forecourt of the Opera House and entered the lift to go up to Peter's apartment. 

"I love the harbor lights and the hum of the city," smiled Peter as he moved to open the apartment to the clear night air. 

"I know how Cinderella felt at the Ball," was Jennifer's comment as she slid the curtains back. 

Peter swung the glass French doors wide open and the sounds of the ferries drew Jennifer to the balcony where she stood, grasping the rail and accepting Peter's hands on her shoulders without flinching. 

She allowed Peter to unpin her hair so that it cascaded to her shoulders. With a little more boldness, Peter continued to caress her shoulders, letting his hand slip gently down the length of her arm.

He turned her and, with a "May I?" slipped an arm around her waist and they continued their waltz. 

Nothing mattered - not time, not their stamina - until Jennifer lifted her head from Peter's chest and shyly, looked up at Peter.

"Can you help me? I need to change. Can you help me out of this dress?"

For once Peter was at a loss for words and turned Jennifer around. He made no comment as his trembling fingers started to work the zipper. As it slowly lowered, his lips traced a pattern of kisses across her back and his fingers joined the action dancing a light tattoo across her shoulders before gliding down her back until Jennifer started keening and moaning.

"Oh, Peter, Peter, Peter, please, please."

Peter said nothing but traced the slow downward path of the zipper with his lips. He noted that she was wearing no bra and still his lips followed the zipper's movement. At her panty line he stopped. Knowing he was at the point of no return, Peter took a deep breath and put his arms around her waist holding her safe and comforting against him. With his lips against her neck, he quietly whispered.

"I love you so very much."

Jennifer shook herself and straightened. 

"I should think you do love me." Jennifer began to giggle. "What are you doing? I asked for your help. I didn't ask you to seduce me." 

Her hands clutched the top of the dress to her as she ordered him about.

"You get changed too, and hang your clothes up decently. I hope to see you in them again sometime."

In casual clothes, they had supper as the sun rose and Peter took Jennifer to what was to become her bedroom. 

"It's too late to take you home. Sleep here. Lock the door if you wish. Call me if you need a teddy bear to cuddle."

Jennifer reached up, pulled his head to her lips and whispered to him.

"Thank you, my prince. Thank you for a wonderful night. Cinderella must sleep before she turns into a mouse." 

Kissing him lightly she entered her bedroom and closed the door.

Peter noted it was unlocked.

Late Sunday morning Peter sat at the breakfast table with piles of the Sunday editions of Sydney papers on the table. He had coffee made and a light breakfast ready for Cinderella when she awoke.

At last, his wait was over and Jennifer appeared all fresh-faced in a silk kimono that highlighted her coloring. Seeing the papers strewn on the table and glancing at the pictures on the front page she gasped. 

He placed her breakfast before her and grinned at her consternation.

The heading on one paper screamed 'Melbourne beauty steals Sydney's most eligible' and the whole page had the photographs of her kissing Peter at the restaurant table. The second paper's front page showed Jennifer at the top of the Opera House steps on the arm of Peter and gave her history as head of the legal department of her company. The only reference to Peter was a single line asking who the handsome mystery man was.

"You'd better have a look at the society pages." Peter was both amused and delighted at her response.

The society pages had picture after picture of the evening headed 'Friends of the Opera Raises One Million for Children's Cancer Charity'. She found three pictures of them dancing and one even showed Peter stealing a kiss on the stage.

"Whatever will Mum think?"

"Don't worry, I'll send her six copies of the two papers." Peter could only laugh.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 08



Early the next morning Bob was on the phone. 

"My word, you and the Ice Maiden are a striking couple. Both papers too. You must have wowed them. Now, have you won your bet? How did you get on? Is she really an Ice Maiden or did I get it wrong?"

Peter was non-committal but Bob didn't notice as he breathlessly continued to ramble on with one of his stories about yet another imaginary conquest.

"That was some weekend. Boy, that Karen has stamina. I'm a physical wreck."

"I'm sorry, Bob, I can't stop. A customer has just come into the workshop and I'm sure she wants me. She's an old friend of yours."

"Who?"

"Mrs. Williams." Peter had noticed her slip into the workshop but Bob didn't wait to hear more. Peter left the office and greeted her. 

"Good morning, Mrs. Williams."

"Susie." She corrected.

"There wasn't much wrong with your vehicle, only a loose connection and a dead battery. We fixed both and returned your car." Smiling, Peter tried to keep the conversation on business. 

"Peter - about the other night. I've been too embarrassed to see you but I have to pay the account. I'm really not that..."

Abruptly he interrupted her. "You're a lady, Susie." They walked to her car. 

"But I don't want anyone to know that..." 

Peter's hand on her arm cut Susie's words short. 

"Susie, I may have kissed you and behaved irresponsibly but I would never tell." 

There was no need for her to worry - Peter was no Bob. 

"I drove you home as a friend should. We had a coffee and talked. I returned to work. What else is there to tell? Oh yes, there's no charge. How could I charge a friend who needed my help?" Peter's smile told her so much more than mere words could convey.

"I should've known. You were so gentle and caring. Really I didn't deserve that." Susie's eyes softened. "Thank you for driving me home. I really don't know what came over me. I know that I was terribly lonely, but I'm most grateful that you didn't take advantage of the situation. Thank you, you were wonderful."

Later that morning Peter rang Jennifer's extension but was surprised when her Personal Assistant answered. 

"Could I speak to Miss Blake, please?" The male voice was insistent.

"Who is calling?"

"Peter O'Brien."

"I'm afraid she's out." The line went dead.

By the time evening arrived, Peter was feeling more than mystified when he called at her apartment to take her to the dress rehearsal and she wasn't there. 

Her eyes were green, unfriendly mirrors when Peter joined her on stage and she played the part of the heroine faultlessly. 

Immediately the rehearsal ended Peter headed backstage to collect her. 

She'd gone. Peter believed that with the opening night looming this was just reaction to stage jitters. However, each time he called her at the office, she was unavailable.

Until Friday morning! 

"Miss Blake, please."

"Who, shall I say is calling?"

Perhaps Peter was suspicious but he answered, "Mr. Brown."

"Please wait."

"Jennifer Blake speaking."

"Jennifer, it's me. Peter."

There was a long silence. Jennifer was clearly determined to say nothing. Peter tried again. 

"Tonight's opening night, I was wondering if..."

A frosty whisper cut him short. "I am so glad you won your bet." The phone went dead.

Suddenly Peter felt cold as if frozen fingers clutched his heart. His head dropped and he stared at the floor. 

What've I done? His thoughts raced over his times with Jennifer. He sank back into his chair and stared at the wall as if seeking an answer there. 

His mind was with Jennifer, Bet? What bet? For heaven's sake what bet? 

Trying to sift through the haze of events to solve the riddle Peter thought of their times together. Oh, hell yes! That first night, Bob bet me I'd not get anywhere with Jennifer and I was stupid enough to accept the bet. What'll I do? It seemed a joke at the time. Now what do I do? 

Slowly he reached for the phone. Jennifer would understand when he explained. 

"Could I speak to Jennifer Blake, please?"

"Mr. O'Brien," Jennifer's Personal Assistant seemed out of patience. "Miss Blake will not take any of your calls. I'm so sorry." 

The click of the phone sounded his death knell but he was certainly given no time to feel sorry for himself as he looked up to see one of the apprentices stumble into the office.

"There's a Commander Williams in the workshop, demanding to see you."

Commander Williams - Susie's husband? Do I run? Well, there's not much else that can go wrong now. Peter pushed his thoughts to one side as he strode out of the office. 

"I'm Peter O'Brien. Can I help you?"

"Yes, you can." 

He was even taller than Peter and he glared down from his pock marked face. His gold braided uniform gave him a most commanding presence and Peter noticed the Navy car waiting at the curbside.

"I'm Bill Williams, Susie's husband." His voice rumbled out of his barrel chest and he reached forward to grip Peter's hand. 

His black hair was close cropped and he seemed a walking, talking, gigantic pile of muscles. As he continued talking, Peter realized his glare was really a lop-sided grin. 

"I want to thank you for looking after my wife when her car broke down and especially after that affair following rehearsals. It's been hard being a sailor but in three month's time..." The Commander hesitated, slightly embarrassed, "I will be a civilian looking for a job like everyone else." 

With his naval cap on his head once more, he turned as if to leave.

"One moment, Bill, if I can call you that - or should I address you as Commander?"

"Bill will do perfectly, thanks, Peter."

"You'll be looking for a job? I may be able to help you."

Peter took him into the office and made a hurried phone call, then, holding the phone to his chest, he quickly outlined a proposition. 

"Bill, I am talking to a company that is headhunting and I believe you have the managerial qualifications they need, else you would not be wearing all that gold braid. Would you be interested?"

Seeing the excited look on Bill's face and his firm nod of agreement, Peter gave the phone call his full attention. 

Making no further comment to Bill, Peter proceeded with the call that largely involved listening, along with the occasional interruption where he mumbled positively into the phone. When Peter finally spoke up at the end, Bill Williams could only be surprised at the authority in his voice. 

"You have an appointment tomorrow morning at 9am. No thanks, say nothing." Peter held his hand up as the Commander tried to interrupt. Peter handed him a card with the details and pushed him out the office as if afraid he had already said too much.

Opening night was on them and Peter took up the challenge with his usual strength, storming onto the stage and gaining the attention of the audience immediately.

Boos, foot stamping and shouts greeted his every word but his voice boomed over the noise so the audience didn't miss a single word. His malevolence and crude licking of lips as he glowered across the stage at the cool, distant, innocent heroine growling, "A tasty morsel" was met with howls of derision and thunderous boos. 

The audience went mad and the cast froze, not moving until the noise abated. Only then did Peter stride across the stage to sweep Jennifer into his arms -- and the audience erupted. 

Jennifer struggled, her lips remained firmly closed and she refused to look Peter in the eye.

When the villain lay mortally wounded, Jennifer walked across and gave him a hefty kick. Again, the audience went crazy. No boos, but loud cheering, clapping, and cries of 'encore, more, bravo, more, more' as if demanding she kick the villain again. 

The stage crew lowered the final curtain and Peter formally congratulated Jennifer for her performance, but she was too busy chatting with the rest of the cast to do more than nod.

Work and performances filled the following days. Nothing changed.

Jennifer played the part of the heroine to perfection while Peter stormed about the stage muttering curses and plotting the success of his dastardly deeds. 

Saturday night was the final night and as it approached, Peter seemed to undergo a change.

Tired of Jennifer's kicks each night, tired of Jennifer's coldness, furious at the treatment meted out to him over what had been a very silly bet, he rang the director.

They argued furiously but Peter would not back down to accept the director's demands.

That evening it was almost curtain time when the director called the cast onto the stage. 

Glaring balefully at Jennifer, he delivered an announcement.

"Peter will not be the villain tonight. He rang me early today and explained that the situation between the heroine and the villain had deteriorated to such an extent he refused to be part of the play tonight.

"He apologizes to you all. It was not his choice to spoil the evening and the party. I have secured a stand-in and I hope he is sober enough to play the part. Everybody do your best, I'm sure the stand-in will be on time for his first entrance. Enjoy tonight and the party."

Jennifer was ashen. Her anger over the 'bet' gone, dispelled by the feeling of empty panic that replaced it. She couldn't go on without Peter there, couldn't adapt so suddenly to a different actor. She needed Peter as the villain. 

The rising curtain interrupted her thoughts.

Just as in the previous performances, her presence on the stage brought whistles and cheers but then there was a sudden hush and for the first time in any performance, the audience sat quietly. 

No cheers, no boos just silence. Jennifer turned to recoil in horror.

The villain, the stand-in, had taken to the stage - a bent, filthy, misshapen caricature of a man, his hunchback, the terrible dragging of his feet and his filth turned her white. His grey hair was long, lank and dirty and as he spoke dribble rolled from the corners of his mouth. 

Jennifer felt sick knowing what was to come.

"A tasty morsel..." snarled this vile creature and a female voice rang out from the audience. 

"Oh noooooo!" 

The audience went mad as this filthy cripple dragged one misshapen leg after the other to shoot his over-long arms around the heroine in order to bend her back as croaking, he drooled, "Come, a kiss to seal the bargain!"

The audience exploded and Jennifer was frantic.

She noticed his misshapen teeth and the gaps in his rotten molars. Looking into his eyes, she was horrified to see - not Peter's loving, blue - but the red, bloodshot eyes of an alcoholic.

Jennifer fought and struggled, she moaned and shrieked, but still that mouth came closer and closer. She tried screaming even louder but the mouth closed on hers and his tongue dived deep into her mouth. It seemed to rape her mouth as the kiss continued and she was horrified at the passion that the lips and tongue were transmitting.

Unable to struggle any further, she bit his tongue and bit hard.

Roaring in agony, the villain threw her to the stage, and spitting blood from the capsule concealed in his cheek, and with more blood streaming from his mouth he continued muttering his lines, much to delight of the audience who cheered the heroine as she clambered to her feet. 

"Serve the bastard right," was one woman's shout.

The villain glared across the footlights at the audience. Then to emphasize Jennifer's mortification and horror he shuffled quickly once more to snatch the heroine into his arms and kiss her again.

Jennifer couldn't struggle any harder as he again put his lips to hers. He used no tongue this time but he forced her lips open, and he seemed to suck her whole being into his mouth. As if tiring of the kiss, he stormed off stage.

The hisses and boos of the audience followed him.

The hero shot the villain and the heroine, as in previous performances, advanced to kick him -- this time with much more than vengeance on her mind. Alas, her utter loathing of this creature had given her a confidence that reduced her actual awareness of what was actually happening, and she didn't see the ghastly hand shoot out to grab her ankle and pull her down to the level of the dying villain. The audience heard his loud snarl.

"A final kiss my tasty..." 

Wrapping his arms around her, he expired as he kissed her. It took three cast members to free her and the audience almost rioted.

As usual, the cast took the curtain calls over the body of the dead villain and the cast trooped off to the party in the green room. 

Only then, did the villain rise and sighing sadly, slowly limped his way to the men's dressing room dripping blood to mark his passage. He carefully removed the contact lenses and the lank grey hair had gone when there was a knock on the door.

The director walked in, pleased but muttering angrily.

"You really are an infuriating bastard, Peter. You almost caused a riot tonight and that was before the show started. I do wish you and Jennifer could see the trees in the forest. It would make life so much easier for all of us.

"You can't see how much she cares for you and she can't see how much you love her. Now get yourself respectable and come on down to the party."

"I'll finish getting cleaned up and then I'll just go. No party for me." Peter was so sad that the director just shrugged, turned and left.

Barely had Peter finished dressing and cleaning his face of makeup when the cast burst through the door and dragged him out to the party. He looked about but could see no Jennifer. His heart sank.

The director held court. "Ladies and gentlemen, I must introduce the stand-in for the villain tonight. No-one guessed that Peter had decided to push the villain's part even further tonight and, yes, the villain tonight in all his hideousness was Peter." 

Seeing Jennifer's livid face appear from amidst the crowd, he continued.

"I'm sorry for not informing you prior to the open curtain but you all acted brilliantly - although I am afraid Peter did go a bit overboard at times."

Furious at Peter's success at hoodwinking her, Jennifer marched up to him and before the startled cast could react, hauled back and slapped him not once but twice.

Peter's eyes changed from a smiling blue to a blood red and he seemed to grow in stature as his anger exploded within him. His change in mood was such that she retreated, unwilling to risk his ire any further. 

"You scoundrel," she spat her words at him.

"You allowed me to believe that creature was a stand-in. How could you?" She turned away with tears in her eyes.

The party sounds died at this interchange between the two leads.

Trying to break the tension, Ted and Bob who had brought Karen and Ruth to the party celebrating the end of a successful show, stepped in. 

"I really couldn't recognize you," admitted Karen as she clung to Peter's arm. "Your voice, your walk and that terrible drooling and spitting. Even your eyes were different. How revolting. You didn't look evil - you were evil!"

Ruth joined in.

"I don't know how you could bear to have him kiss you." Ruth dragged a reluctant Jennifer back into the group.

"I don't know either." Jennifer stared through Peter and he knew she wasn't thinking only of the play.

Ruth giggled. "Your eyes said so much more than the words when you looked across at Jennifer and said 'a tasty morsel'. Everyone hated you, Peter. Heavens, as the hunchback approached Jennifer I shouted louder than the rest. You looked positively revolting. What a villain you are!"

"When Jennifer bit you and you reeled away bleeding so profusely from the mouth I think I cheered louder than anyone," Karen enthused.

Jennifer glared at Peter, adding her piece. "I suppose you didn't have to act all that much. No wonder you got the part. Type casting I suppose."

Peter tried to break the tension between them. 

"If I was good, it was only because you were perfect. You made it so easy. Jennifer, any time you want to..."

It was useless continuing - she had walked away to join another group where her normal vivacity and liveliness surfaced. The others didn't notice her departure as they discussed the play and they were more cast members into the conversation. 

Peter went nowhere for the rest of the weekend. Only his music drew him. Nothing else could wipe Jennifer from his soul. Everywhere he looked, he could see her and he could smell her perfume. She had permeated every corner of his life. 

On Monday, he was glad to work - the noise, dust and smell of welding and spray painting helped clear his mind. Every day was busy and he didn't notice the time passing.

Week followed week and it was work only that kept Peter sane - work and music -- with seemingly endless trips to Bathurst delivering vehicles for the latest contract, followed by more work. Peter drove himself hard.

"Where have you been?" Bob called in to inspect the repairs on a customer's car. He was worried. "You haven't been in for a drink for weeks since the play and you've not been to tennis either. We've all missed you." 

He laughed at his own joke as he continued. 

"Now tell me you've been working."

"I have been." Emotionless, Peter was insistent as the words flowed. 

"There's wages to pay and I've just put on two young female apprentices and you keep well clear of them. They are mere children." 

Peter's stance warned Bob that his behavior around the new apprentices would need to be exemplary. "That's all I seem to do now - work."

"You missed out on some fun." Bob's eyes twinkled as he outlined the past weekend's doings. "Are you coming this Friday? Everyone wants to see if you're still alive." 

"Everyone?" Peter's hopes rose.

"Ted, Karen, Ruth. The new group."

"Have you seen Jennifer?"

"The Ice Maiden?" He guffawed. "You should have seen that 'Ice' melt when I..." Pausing, he stared into Peter's face trying to judge his reaction. 

"You did what?" Peter almost shrieked his mind whirling in confusion. No, no not Jennifer, not that. The idea burnt into his soul and he could feel his hatred and anger beginning to control him.

"Well," for the first time Bob seemed at a loss for words. "I accidentally mentioned our bet." 

Peter looked shocked but at the same time, he heaved a sigh of relief.

"She said nothing, but I thought she was going to explode. I've never seen such anger in a woman. That's one woman I'd like to stir. She'd be a tigress if..." 

"Lay off," Peter was furious. Talking this way of Jennifer was more than he could stand. 

"Keep that for Ted. He loves to hear the hows, the whens and the whys." Peter's voice rose to a shout. "I'm not interested"

"Steady on." Bob completely misconstrued Peter's outrage. "You've been working too hard. Give it away."

He began organizing Peter's life. "If you're not at the bar on Friday night, Ted and I'll come to drag you off - paint, grease, overalls and all."

Bob knew he was pushing Peter's limits. He watched to see if Peter would accept his organization and, hearing nothing but ominous silence, he decided he'd better change the topic before something dangerous happened. 

"Hey, there's Mrs. Williams. She's just what the doctor ordered. Isn't she gorgeous?"

Preening himself, he dashed out. "See you Friday."

Peter could only smirk as he watched.

Seeing Bob approaching, Susie turned away. Undeterred, he took her arm that she quickly snatched out of his grasp. Bob could see his charm was having no effect. Repeatedly she shook her head until tiring of his overtures she left. 

"Win some, lose some." Bob started his car. "Don't know what's got into her. Hubbie must be home."

Peter smiled - he wasn't going to tell Bob the facts. 

"Be there Friday night."

The bar was just as noisy, smoky and dim as usual. Nothing had changed. 

"Welcome back, stranger." Ted slapped Peter's back and ordered another round of drinks. "Help me carry these."




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 08



Six drinks - one tomato juice - should have made Peter suspicious. Jennifer had been drinking tomato juice that first night.

Like a pet poodle on a leash, Peter followed mindlessly to the furthest table in the lounge. 

"Where have you been?" Ruth seemed politely interested.

"You're as pale as ghost," Karen shrieked in that affected, little girlish voice she often assumed. "Have you been locked up in a cave?" 

Then she turned to Bob to commandeer his attention.

Jennifer said nothing. She stared through Peter as if he didn't exist. 

It hurt. Holding her in his arms waltzing to Strauss had been heaven. This was hell.

"Hello," Jennifer's voice was cold and emotionless.

There was nothing to keep Peter here in the group. His eyes moistened and he realized he was on the point of breaking. It would take all his self-control to remain, self-control he did not have.

"Thanks for the beer, Ted. I owe you one." Peter threw the beer down his throat, turned on his heels and made his way towards the exit, well aware of the puzzled looks from both Bob and Ted.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bob caught Peter at the door and grabbing his shoulder, wheeled him around to stand face-to-face. "We've drunk together for years and you've never done that with a beer before." 

Hands on hips he cornered Peter against the doorway. "What the hell's got into you?" Bob was furious.

"You! That's bloody what." This time Bob would not misconstrue Peter's bitterness. "You and your bloody great mouth."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bob really did not know.

"You had to scream to the world about our bet." Peter's hatred made Bob wince. "I ought to..." Peter closed his fist but customers bursting through the door separated them.

Bob bounced back. 

"I'm sorry I opened my mouth to Jennifer but let's not fight over her. We've been friends too long."

Pausing he waited but Peter said nothing. "I'm sorry for stepping out of line. I only asked her if the pair of you had a date. She seemed reluctant to discuss you although she had pictures of you spread all over her desk. Strange that." 

His eyes wandered to the ceiling as if seeking an answer there. "She didn't want to talk at all so I merely said 'Good, then Peter's lost his bet' and left.

"Ted told me she rang him, must have got his number from Ruth. Before he knew it, she had the facts from him. Sorry. Neither of us meant to hurt you."

Peter crumpled, all the fire gone. Just an empty shell remained.

"Come on back." With a kindly gesture, Bob took his friend's arm and led Peter back to the bar. "A stiff whiskey's what you need."

Patiently, he talked quietly as Peter downed not one, not two but three whiskeys in quick succession.

Peter's knees knocked. Those drinks raced to his brain. 

The walk back to Jennifer seemed endless and Peter wanted it to last so that his fuddled brain could clear. He would need all his faculties if he were to get through the next few minutes.

"You've brought him back. Goody." Karen clapped her hands like the silly little school girl she was. "Bob, you scattered so many chairs racing after Peter the barman thought there was a brawl."

She began to laugh, "I thought Peter was a great grizzly bear but you bounced out like a fighting koala."

Even Peter laughed but he knew his laugh didn't sound right.

"What did you do to him, Bob? You've only been gone five minutes but by Peter's look he's had his head in a brewer's vat." Ted looked concerned.

Peter knew that he had difficulty focusing but he didn't realize the others knew. Ruth's stare told him those whiskeys had been just what he didn't need. Slumped over the table, his chin propped in his hands, Peter was beyond caring how Jennifer saw all this.

Through a haze, Peter could hear Ted's voice coming from the far end of a tunnel. 

"What did you do, Bob? He's almost out cold."

"I gave him a couple of whiskeys but he insisted on having a third." Bob was defensive. "He needed them. He's been working so much and he seemed so down..."

"You fool. You bloody great fool!" Ted's retort cut into Peter's brain. 

"You know he can't drink. Two beers and he's drunk, three and he's sick. Come on, girls, we'd better get him out of here. Christ - sorry girls - he's had a bad time that he, of all people, really doesn't deserve." 

Ted was worried. "Come on, Bob. Help. Don't just stand there like a bloody great, useless, shag on a rock."

They dragged Peter to his feet. That much he knew. He was almost sober enough to hear the girls organizing vehicles and to feel hands searching his pocket for keys.

"At least we'll find his car. He always parks it in the same place." Ted was quietly confident.

"You can drive Peter's car, Jennifer. I'll take Peter. Bob, take the girls and follow me."

"No!" That voice cut through Peter's alcoholic fumes. "Put Peter with me."

"You'll never manage him." Only Bob knew how difficult Peter had been.

"Oh, I'll manage." Jennifer's voice had a tone that brooked no argument. "You others go on as you'd planned."

She laughed. "I was having an early night so this drunkard hasn't caused me to change my plans."

Peter closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift. The oncoming headlights were far too bright. The movement of the car and the engine's hum lulled him to sleep.

"Can you move?" Jennifer was tugging at his sleeve. 

A groan was all the answer Peter could muster. He felt two security guards manhandling him to the lift. 

"We've never seen Mr. O'Brien in such a state in all the years we've been here. What happened to him, Miss? Do you need any further help?"

Jennifer's comment as she stood Peter in the lift cut into Peter's brain. 

"Oh, don't worry. I don't need help and he'll rue the day he got like this." Peter's mind raced. She sounded just as his wife should sound.

"Come on. I'll make a coffee for you." 

He felt an arm drag him onto the sofa and heard sliding sounds as she opened the windows allowing the fresh breeze to help clear the fog.

"Jennifer..."

"Ssh! Coffee is what you need."

Hot sweet coffee scalded his tongue. Slowly his brain began to clear - almost. More and more coffee followed until he almost drowned in the chocolaty liquid.

"Feeling better?" Jennifer leant across the table, her face concerned. She was no heartless, unfeeling Ice Maiden.

"I'll be better in a moment. Sorry I was so much trouble. I must've spoiled your date," Peter could not stop torturing himself.

"Stop being silly. Just this once, stop being silly."

"I'll be gone in a moment or two. Just let me rest for a while."

"You're going nowhere. You're so drunk you can't even recognize your own apartment." For such a delicate young woman, half Peter's size, Jennifer knew how to be bossy. "Stand up, you drunk."

The laughter in her words told Peter she was teasing. "What a pitiful sight you are. Lean on me. You'll be more comfortable in here."

Jennifer pushed and pulled him until he sank into the incredible softness of his bed. There he lay motionless. She tugged his shoes free and a cool hand swept his hair back from his eyes. Delicate fingers traced a path across his cheek. The sound of drawers opening, the rustle of clothing and the spatter of a shower didn't disturb him. He was just too drunk to care. 

Her warm voice asked, "Are you all right?"

"My head's still on." His speech was slurred. "But the bed is rocking. If only the bed would remain still I'd be perfectly all right."

"You can't drink, can you?" There was a delicious tinkle to her laugh. 

"I don't know what came over me. Usually I'm so careful." It was difficult getting to his feet and standing until Jennifer put her arms around him. Automatically, Peter put his lips to her hair. "Jennifer, I..."

"Stop that," she giggled. "You're in no fit state." Her push was enough to topple Peter back onto the bed but he dragged her down with him. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?" She was worried, "I didn't bring you home so you could get..."

"Up to funny business?" Peter smiled through those last words. With his arms around her, his lips on her neck and breathing in her female essence, he passed out.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 09



Sunlight streaming into his eyes brought Peter around.

Into the pain flooded the thought, 'My head aches. Why are the drapes open? The light is too strong.' The thoughts seemed to smash pound behind his eyes like a blacksmith's hammer forging a horseshoe as he staggered under the shower.

He knew his hangover was causing pain. With the hot needles of spray stabbing his skin, he retraced the events of the previous night.

'Can't I get anything right? I've insulted the one girl who attracted me, whose friendship I want - no, I need,' Peter smiled as he corrected himself. 'Maybe I need more than her friendship,' he admitted to himself. He pushed that thought aside, too much of a coward to give it room.

'That girl, I could only insult by getting drunk. The best thing would be a note of apology, possibly a gift of flowers and chocolates to say sorry and then never inflict my boorish presence on her again. Yes, Peter straightened. He had made a decision. That'd be best. I'll send that note with a present and not see her again.'

His rumbling stomach drove him out of the shower. With a shave coat wrapped tightly about him, he walked towards the kitchen and glanced into what he had come to consider as Jennifer's room. 

Shocked out of his hangover, he stood rock still. My God, Jennifer is asleep in the twin bed. She hasn't deserted me, his mind rejoiced at the thought

Her hair, like an auburn halo, spread across the pillow and one arm stretched across the blankets. Her face was relaxed in sleep but what really drew his eyes was her nightdress. The top sagged open as her small body relaxed inside and the rounded swell of her breasts was just visible. Pearly white, the flesh contrasted with the light tan where her swimming costume ended. Peter stood still, hardly daring to breathe, drinking in the scene of promised delights at hand before coming to his senses, 

"Come on, sleepy head, wake up." His gruff voice roused her. 

Slowly she opened one eye. Then she jerked the second open.

"Put this over you," Peter handed her a robe from her cupboard, "otherwise with this hangover, I might forget I'm trying to be a gentleman."

Jennifer gasped, pulling the sheet to her neck.

"Besides you make that night dress look like the latest Paris Evening dress." Grinning, Peter bent low to kiss her hair. Blushing, she understood from his smile he had seen more than she intended.

A few minutes later, he was back. "Here is some tea, toast and tomato juice. Sorry, there's not more but I've been so busy I'm like Mother Hubbard. I'll have to shop this morning if my head stops aching so I can think."

They chattered and ate while he struggled to keep his eyes from wandering as the sheet slowly slid from under her chin. He obviously failed as Jennifer slapped him on the arm. "Your eyes will fall out if you stare," she admonished him as she tugged the sheet back up.

"Jennifer, there's something I must say." She tried to interrupt but Peter ignored her, "About that bet. It just happened. Bob was boasting and I got cranky. He always talks about how successful he is with women while I..." His tongue failed him.

"I know all about the bet." She stiffened as she spoke.

"No, you don't. You're not within a bull's roar. You could never know the truth. I've never had a date. I've never had anyone I could call mine. Not ever! When Bob and Ted bet me, I was so angry. I wanted to see you again and again and again and I exploded without thinking and accepted the bet."

Her eyes widened but she didn't try to interrupt.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't do that for anything. I'd rather hurt myself. I hurt you then, and embarrassed you last night. The one person in the world who means so much to me, the one person I want to call mine... I'm such a fool."

The one person he wants to call his own. Jennifer's mind reeled at the revelation. This great loveable bear of a man who had wormed his way into her heart had just made a serious admission. She continued staring at Peter for a few moments as if trying to assess his words, then gave him a push off the bed.

"Look at the time. I must fly, get out while I dress." 

She saw Peter's eyes cloud as she insisted on leaving. "Don't get angry but I have a date and so have you." 

Peter's spirits lifted only to crash. 

"You're playing tennis."

"I don't know if I'll go." Peter searched for an excuse to retreat into his loneliness again.

"You'll go if you know what's good for you - you great bear." Her eyes twinkled merrily. "If you don't go I'll be back to thump some sense into that thick head of yours."

"Promise?" Peter grinned, "The thought makes my mouth water. I'd have to protect myself and..."

"Take that look off your face or I'll get frightened," Jennifer hugged a pillow to herself in mock alarm. "The twinkle in your eyes is so mischievous that..." She did not finish. "Oh, get out. I'm getting up."

It was just a few hours later, when Bob and Ted drove into the car park at the tennis club and parked beside Peter. Together the three friends walked to the clubhouse.

"How's the head?" Playfully, Bob slapped Peter's shoulder. "Three whiskeys and you were paralytic. God, you must be the cheapest drunk in town."

"And you must be the biggest fool." Ted was still annoyed. "Fancy giving Peter three whiskeys. You should have more sense, especially when he is so interested in Jennifer."

Peter reddened and spluttered a denial - but Ted, ignoring him, continued. "Oh, don't deny it. We're not blind. Everyone knows it but you."

"How did you get on last night?" Bob leered, wanting a running commentary on Peter's progress. Then without waiting for an answer, added, "No wonder you've got a spring in your step."

"Peter was far too drunk. Even a fool like you should know that," Ted firmly closed the subject.

"I'd like you three ruffians to meet a new club member," The President took them into the Members' Lounge. "I don't want any of you criminals dragging her off into a dark corner. She's here to play..." he paused and grinned, "tennis."

He knew of their escapades at the Christmas Party when Bob had pinned some mistletoe in the most remote corner of the clubhouse and they had vied with each other to take every female at the party under the mistletoe. Bob even managed to get the President's wife there under the pretext of discovering some vandalism.

The group of players parted and The President introduced them to Jennifer.

"Oh, I've already met these ruffians." Her laugh at Peter's surprise was delicious. "I'm so pleased you've recovered. You look almost like a new person from the last time I saw you." 

Obviously, she did not want the others to know where she'd spent the night - not that anything had happened.

"I can't remember a thing." Peter could only grin sheepishly, knowing her secret was safe with him. "I was way too drunk, I'm sure Bob spiked my drinks."

"Come on, we've been called." Bob dragged Peter away. "We're to play the club champions."

What a pleasant afternoon it was. Jennifer was even paired with Peter twice and although her short white skirt and white frills distracted him, Peter played like a man possessed, determined to impress her.

"You play a good game," Jennifer toweled the beads of perspiration from her forehead. "What other games do you play?" Her twinkling green eyes calmly studied him.

For a split second, Peter thought of a Bob-like response - 'Try me.'- but he would have had to leer. Besides, this was Jennifer and he wasn't going to offend her - not intentionally. His answer was most circumspect, "I didn't know you're a tennis player. I'll have to improve my game if I want to play with you."

"Play what?" She laughed impishly, "You're being rude." The ice green of her eyes sparkled and danced in merriment, "Whatever do you mean?" 

The more she teased, the more Peter blushed.

It was later when Jennifer asked Peter for a lift home, "but I have to do my hair and a myriad other things ready for the new week so..."

Peter smiled and agreed, "Of course it will be a pleasure." but on the way, he stopped at a Thai Restaurant. "You've lots to do without cooking so..." 

Jennifer allowed him to take her arm and again was amazed when he greeted the waitresses in their native language. He used no menu but ordered in Thai and seemed more a welcome guest rather than a customer.

Eventually, Peter escorted her to her door and cupped her chin in one hand to tilt her lips to his. So softly did his lips brush hers, she couldn't believe this was her Peter. 

Suddenly Jennifer snaked her arms around his neck and, whispering, "You can do better than that." kissed him with a ferocious passion, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and savoring his ardor, which suddenly burst over her. 

She wrapped one leg around his hips as if she could not get close enough to his body and still she locked herself to him. With long tastes of her mouth, she drugged Peter making him reel, teasing him with little nips of her teeth, but still she enticed him with her sexuality until his hips moved against the smoothness of her body. For the first time in her life, she relished this power over a man, her love, as she drove him mad with his need for her as his body screamed with its desire and his love of this - his woman.

Peter's senses reeled and he stood back.

Jennifer giggled, "I owed you that - you 'stand in villain'. I'll ring you later this week." She turned and was gone.

The working week started when Peter was in the office answering the phone.

"Mr. O'Brien? Could you accept a call from Miss Jennifer Blake?" Peter was sure Jennifer's Personal Assistant was giggling.

What? As if I could not accept a call from Jennifer, was Peter's reaction but he replied, "Most certainly, I'll take all her calls."

"Peter, can you help me?" Jennifer's sweet hoarseness made Peter's heart pound.

"Jennifer, I'll do everything possible to help you. Do you want a full moon tonight so I can serenade you?"

Jennifer giggled. "Peter, be serious. Can I make an appointment to see you this week? I need your assistance."

"Yippee, Jennifer needs me." Peter's shout must have almost deafened Jennifer.

"Peter, behave and be serious. Can you afford the time to take me looking for a new car on Wednesday morning at say 9 or is your appointment book full for that day."

"My diary is full all right and every appointment has the same name - Jennifer. Funny that. However believe me I'm not complaining."

"You're so sweet, Peter. Then Wednesday morning will be all right at 9?"

"I'll pick you up at your apartment, we'll kick tires and if we finish early enough perhaps lunch. Then I'll return you to your office before taking you home."

Jennifer must have been laughing at Peter's eagerness. "I really intended playing hooky for the whole day so if you could do the same then..." Wanting more time with him, she hoped he would be free and breathed a soft sigh of relief when he answered.

Peter's mind raced, a whole day with Jennifer, now what could we do? Ah, yes... Slowly he voiced his thoughts, "That would be an excellent idea. Ted's always telling me I work too hard so now I have an excuse. I'll collect you at say 8.30, and wear 'tire kicking clothes'. We can grab a hamburger or something during the day. Promise I will get you home safely."

Not an hour later, Ted arrived.

"Peter, clear the decks." Ted marched into Peter's office, his steely eyes gleaming with anticipation, "I'm here to bring your books up-to-date. Now clean this place up a bit." 

Tripping over a mudguard, he went sprawling. As he picked himself up he growled, "It's not an office. It's more like a dusty spare parts' store." Brushing his trousers, he regained his feet.

"You're as blind as ever, I don't know why you bother with glasses," was Peter's retort. 

Ted always found some spare part or other between his feet. On his last visit, he had managed to shatter a headlamp. He was so bumble footed Peter wondered how he managed to be such a good tennis player. 

"Why don't you change into overalls? There are plenty of clean spares and you could pretend you're a worker too," Peter tried to help.

Ted's pale grey suit was so expensively immaculate it would be a sin to get it dirty. 

"Better still - come on. I have somewhere new for you to work. It's my latest acquisition." Peter led him up the stairs to the tiny flat that he had built for his late nights at the workshop. "You can approve the expense of having it built and maybe even get a tax deduction."

"So this is why you work late," was Ted's first comment.

"Wipe your feet. I don't want these rooms dirty." Peter had demanded double insulation for the apartment so the dust and noise from the workshop would not intrude. "You should be comfortable here. It's air-conditioned and sound proofed."

"This is actually a bachelor pad, eh," Ted was impressed and went exploring. "Everything you need - a shower and hot tub big enough for four, a stove to cook on, toilet, bed and table. Don't tell Bob, otherwise, he'll want a key." 

Ted grinned and his eyes sparkled. "So this is where you bring your female customers for that special extra service." Ted roared at Peter's confusion and blushes.

Peter knew he was joking. Ted was no Bob so he tried to ignore the comment. "Use the phone to ring through to downstairs. Anything you need, I'll send up. Make yourself at home." 

"Just send up last month's accounts and receipts with your books and I'll start. Bob's calling at 2 o'clock so don't eat until then." 

Peter shook his head to tell Ted he couldn't leave the workshop but ignoring Peter's denial, Ted continued, "Surely you can leave someone in charge. If you can't, you're not doing a very good job managing this place." He began a lecture on staff management. "Call in your best worker when you go down Tell him he's foreman and give him $500 a week raise."

Peter blanched his mind rebelling, $500? Who does Ted think I am, J.D. Rockefeller? The bamboo screen, that inscrutable face of the east, he had developed in his youth slipped over his face. 

His mind slipped into overdrive. I have to keep up the façade of being aware of my lack of money and lack of business acumen. It would not do Ted to know the truth.

"Wipe that blank look from your face, Old Scrooge. You can afford it many times over."

"But I still owe so much on the business." Ted knew how he had started with a partner who had died in a car accident shortly after his marriage. His widow was not pressing Peter for money but he felt honor bound to pay her as quickly as possible.

"Mavis rang me the other day to tell me she wanted to keep an interest in the business." Ted made Peter sit and listen. "She's not short of money. In fact, she's very well off now the insurance has been finalized." 

Wise accountant, he continued, "She's prepared to leave the remaining $100,000 in the firm and just draw say 25% of the net profit each year if that's okay with you?"

Stretching across, he patted Peter's arm, "Can't you see Mavis is prepared to be a sleeping partner?" Then Ted's serious mood broke and he looked around. "By the look of this flat you've even prepared for this to happen." He laughed at his own joke.

Peter returned to the workshop floor and wandered around dazed. Easily he slipped into the almost penniless character that he wished to portray. His mind continued - no huge debt hanging over his head - a sleeping partner only interested in drawing a quarter of the profit.

That figure was manageable and most fair. Mavis had worked as their secretary while they got on their feet. She and Ken had been married only a few months when - and she had never returned to the workshop and their only dealings had been through Ted.

"Ted wants you," Joe ordered Peter upstairs confident in his new role as foreman. 

He'd been with Peter since he'd first opened and he impressed Peter with his workmanship, his attitude to the other workers and the paternal care that he took with apprentices. He was the senior in the workshop and his readiness to assist the other workers made him a popular leader. His ability to cuss in fluent Italian was a source of merriment and teasing.

Joe believed his grey hair gave him the right to treat Peter as a son even though he was so much shorter and stockier than Peter. "I'll be right down here. I won't rape any female customers or burn the workshop down." He rumbled with laughter. "There'll be no strike. There's a sense of excitement in the workshop. Everyone can sense a change. Get up there," he propelled Peter towards the stairs, "and see what Ted wants."

"So, Joe is your new foreman. I'm not surprised. You've made a good choice. He's a thinker as well as a doer." Ted leaned back in his chair, "Coffee's coming, courtesy of Joe. He's really taken off. The best thing you've done."

Peter was surprised things had changed so quickly. The coffee tasted different. Everything was different. The sun was even shining.

"Now, about Jennifer..." Carefully Ted scanned Peter's face over the top of his glasses and held up his hand to stop Peter's interruption. 

"I'm talking to you as one of your best friends and we, Bob and I, decided I'd be the one to give you this lecture. Oh," Ted read Peter's reaction correctly, "you're surprised we've been talking about you. Well, you've had us both worried stiff. You're like a steam engine on the boil every time Jennifer doesn't do what you want or expect. You blow off steam then, if that's not enough, like a faulty boiler you explode."

Leaning closer Ted smiled kindly, "This is the first girl you've ever been interested in and you've fallen - fallen hard without any experience on which to draw." 

He grinned, "Now for some advice." 

Pausing he became serious, "Listen carefully and get yourself together. Take it slowly, very slowly. Be like the cat stalking the timid bird. One quick movement and the bird will be off and away and the cat is left hungry." He took another sip from his coffee.

Quickly Peter interrupted. "I want more than a quick fling. Jennifer means so much more..."

"Don't tell me your troubles," laughing, Ted cut Peter off. "I'm not your Father Confessor you know. Just take it slowly and no more explosions. That green-eyed jealousy of yours will cause a lot of trouble if you don't stop and think." 

Ted was right. If only he could control his jealousy but Jennifer... 

His tone suddenly changed, "Now, about your books. They're bloody disgraceful." Angrily he thrust page after page under Peter's nose, "How the hell am I supposed to decipher your writing amidst all those greasy thumbprints? I don't need glasses I need binoculars and a quick course in detective work." 

Glaring fixedly at Peter Ted announced, "You will have to get a secretary book-keeper." Finished, he sat back and waited. 

Peter looked shell-shocked. Ted had already boosted the wages' ledger but he wanted more. The news about Mavis and the debt was good but the way Ted was spending money Peter, still in his act of being a penniless workshop owner, believed he would be bankrupt in a week. 

His alter ego had taken over his mind as he continued to conceal his true worth from Ted.

The jangle of the phone interrupted them.

"Bob's here and wants to see you both. He's on his way up." 

Peter was horrified knowing Bob would ask for the use of this accommodation when nothing else was available. 

"Good Lord. So, you've gone up in the world. What a pad you have here." All bounce and good humor Bob breezed in. "This is where you entertain Mrs. Williams and your other attractive customers." 

His eyes gleamed and he licked his lips, "What a sly one you are and to think you didn't tell me." 

Slapping Peter on the back, he continued. "You really are secretive, you old fox. A pity that you have to come through the workshop - you slipped up there. The entrance should be from the street." 




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 09



His lecherous laugh told Peter what he had in mind. "No beer in the fridge - that's something you'll have to remedy if Ted and I are to come again - but there's enough food in the freezer for a buffet for hundreds. Large bed," he bounced up and down on it before adding with a leer, "soft too. Clothes are in the cupboards including two sets of pajamas. You've thought of everything." 

The as an afterthough, grinning he added, "Bet I know something you've forgotten." He dived into the bathroom, "My God, there are 6 toothbrushes. Do you intend entertaining a bloody harem?" 

Typically, Bob equated everything with sex. He wouldn't understand even if Peter bothered to explain the toothbrushes had been a pack left as a gift by one of Peter's commercial traveler customers but before Peter could explain Bob was off again. "Come on, you two. Leave those books. I'm starving"

The lunch hour stretched out to two hours but Ted wouldn't allow Peter to leave, "Your foreman is earning his wage. Work will wait. Relax. Enjoy yourself." 

He and Bob were prepared to linger but Peter was obviously nervous. Eventually, they made their way to the workshop and Bob left, allowing them to continue with the books.

"Now, the next thing for today. You're about to call a meeting of all your workers. You're paying far too much tax and losing too much money on recalls. The workers should've done fiddly little things and left them so the owners complained.

"No matter how hard you try, you can't inspect every job as it is completed. The men have to do better." Ted stared at Peter across the table and smiled when he saw Peter nodding his approval. 

"The cure? Make each worker a 'job finished' inspector. You're coming downstairs now to tell the workers they have a 25% share of net profits from today."

"You're mad," was Peter's quick retort.

"No I'm just a 'hard headed bean counter' who, with Bob, is your best friend. While you're recovering from that, you're about to finalize the purchase of the motel the other side of the BMW dealership next door.

"You've so much money lying in the bank from this business that's doing nothing soon the taxman will be asking questions. You're about to spread your wings and fly." Noticing Peter's look, he added, "Don't you trust me?"

"Oh, I trust you, but all this is a shock. I know that I should stop my complaining." Peter knew Ted's ideas were sound and he had been thinking along those lines himself. Ted had merely voiced what Peter had been considering.

"I suggest you ring Joe and tell him to shut the shop and tell the workers there is an urgent meeting for everyone in the lunch room.

"We'll both meet with the workers if you wish, so tell him I'll be at the meeting. Perhaps he can get the room a bit decent," they laughed and Peter rang the workshop.

The workers had innumerable questions, which Ted answered, showing them how much they benefited from a rise in productivity and explaining how each, even the apprentices, would benefit according to their seniority.

Peter could only smile as he and Ted made their way upstairs and left the meeting in charge of Joe.

As the two friends made their way up the stairs, they could hear Joe's words to the workers. "This is our business now so no lagging off and no returns because the job wasn't done well in the first place. We're all partners so we all work hard to make a huge profit."

"Ted, I have a renewal of the truck contract here. I need your advice. It's with that transport business based in Bathurst. We have to collect their new prime-movers from the factory, spray them in company colors and deliver them to Bathurst." 

Silently Ted studied the papers before sighing. "There's a lot of work here and it's spread over a considerable time. Will you be able to handle it?"

"It'll mean a lot of driving to Bathurst but I thought I'd drive up on Friday nights after work when necessary and fly or train back on the Saturday morning. It'll be tough for a while but then it would even itself out." 

The prospect of all the extra work did not worry Peter.

"You're taking on a lot." Handing the papers back he smacked the table as though he had suddenly made up his mind, "You're going to have a secretary, someone who knows book-keeping and will order you about." 

Peter tried to interrupt but ignoring him Ted continued, "I have the right person in mind. One of my staff has retired and would love a couple of day's work a week and besides this secretary will take no nonsense from Bob." 

Knowing Bob as well as Ted did, Peter laughed. He could see Bob drooling all over the poor girl, pawing her legs or her shoulders - whatever he could touch and sneaking looks down the front of her dresses and blouses.

"Mark will be here first thing tomorrow," Ted's laughter became a hoot as Peter sank into the chair in surprise.

"I must tell Bob you've a new secretary tonight. By the time I've described her, he'll be panting at the door come sunrise." Wiping the tears from his eyes, he asked, "Will we see you Friday?" 

"No. The first truck for the new contract arrives tomorrow and I'll be rather busy." There was no point in telling Ted of his plans for the weekend.

"Well, for God's sake, be careful when you drive those trucks to Bathurst. You'll have been working all day. No accidents or I'll strangle you." 

Laughing he added, "I don't relish having that 'cream puff', Bob, all to myself."

"Cream puff?"

"Don't tell me you've not seen through his act about women? He's as scared of them as you are. He's all hot air. If one of them accepted his outrageous suggestions he'd run a mile," Ted grinned at Peter's surprise. "Now take care. There's more than Bob and I who have an interest in you."

Peter believed he was talking of the workers but there was no need to tell Ted he would be careful.

Mark became the secretary and Bob arrived as expected, ready to impress and left crestfallen, mumbling that he would get his own back on Ted.

The workshop ran perfectly and the place seemed abuzz with a new enthusiasm and attention to detail. 

Eventually, Wednesday morning arrived - with a clear blue sky and perfect sunshine. Peter arrived early in the street outside Jennifer's unit and continually gazed at his watch willing the time to pass so he could knock on her door.

"Come in, the door's open. I wondered how long you'd wait in the car." Jennifer's green eyes twinkled as she admitted that she'd been watching.

"You little minx," Peter hoisted her into his embrace and chastely kissed her hair before letting her back down. 

Hand-in-hand they left and Peter tossed her the car keys. "I have this as a test drive so hammer it as much as you like and we'll return it to the dealer when we've finished kicking tires."

Jennifer didn't demur but swung behind the steering wheel and laughing drove off into the traffic at a furious rate.

"Steady on. There are speed cameras everywhere. Don't get booked," were Peter's only wry comment.

Not bothering to reply, Jennifer played a symphony on the gearlever keeping the engine humming and using the car's capabilities well.

Taking no notice of where she was taking him, Peter just sat there enjoying her perfume and her close proximity. The spell was broken when she parked the car and turned to stare at him. "Peter, I don't think we really need to go kicking tires. Can we return this to the dealer and help me negotiate a good deal?"

Leaning across to hug her, Peter kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding through her shocked lips to battle her sweetness. They parted to gather their breath and he got out of the car without saying a word. He opened the driver's door and stood so close to her it was as if they shared one body. His arms held her and his lips again claimed her, "Jennifer, Jennifer," and his lips sank into her hair as he quietly whispered, "I love you so."

Peter drove the car to the dealer beside his workshop and parked it carefully, battling off the sales staff until he led Jennifer into the Manager's Office.

"Hey, Jack, I believe you're retiring in a few days so today you've a chance to make a big impression. This young lady, Jennifer Blake, is somewhat interested in purchasing one of your cars but, why, I would never know. I'm sure the Japanese make better cars than the Germans." 

Peter's laugh and Jack's answer made Jennifer realize they were the best of friends.

"Jennifer? May I call you Jennifer? How did you get involved with a ruffian like this? My God, be careful of him. He can be really wicked." 

Jack's smile told Jennifer how much he admired Peter. 

"Let's leave him here while we study the various cars and I can take you for a test drive."

Taking Jennifer by the arm, he began to lead her out the door only to find Peter blocking the doorway. 

"What? Do you think I'm stupid - allowing you to show Jennifer anything and to take her for a test drive? I'm neither senile nor stupid. My mother warned me about new car salesmen."

Laughing, the three of them went out to 'kick tires'.

"Here's an excellent little unit." Jack started his spiel.

"Jennifer's a rev head. You should see how she handled the demo you lent me. Now, Jennifer, what would you like to see?" Peter was going to be in control.

"I like the look of that little green model. I like the color."

"Wait until I get some plates and we can take it for a drive," Jack was about to move off. 

"Oh, no, you don't, Jack. You're trying to pass off hard-to-shift models to my innocent young friend here. Take us to the specialist showroom and let's look there."

Jack shrugged and asked Jennifer, "How much do you want to spend?" 

Before Jennifer could answer Peter laughed, "As little as possible."

The three walked into the rear of the showroom where the absolute top of the tree stood - a Mini Cooper S, leather upholstery, climate control, high fidelity sound - every option possible and again British racing green.

Peter was quiet while Jack went though his story and showed Jennifer all the bits and pieces. The bonnet went up and Jennifer showed surprising knowledge of the engine parts. Under the lights and on the red-carpeted floor it was both immaculate and desirable and Peter, watching Jennifer carefully, knew she was smitten.

"Peter, I love it, but sadly I can't afford it. It's a dream." Her voice tapered off wistfully.

Peter led her out of the showroom. "How much do you want to spend, sweetheart?" The word slipped out and Jennifer gazed at him for some time before finding her voice.

"$30,000 maximum insured and registered and that is a long way from the price of that car." 

"Oh, you haven't done much tire kicking, have you? Come on, let's twist Jack's arm. This'll be fun. Let me do the bargaining, please, Jennifer."

Over coffee, the bargaining began. It was obvious to Jennifer that Jack wouldn't drop the price of the car enough for her to purchase it until Peter demanded he speak to the Head Office. 

"Back soon. Don't run away. We don't want to buy the business but Jack expects us to pay top dollar for a car they've not been able to move," were Peter's words as he dragged Jack off.

Jennifer could see the two men arguing, then Peter making a phone call before handing the phone to Jack.

It was obvious Jack was startled and turned to Peter incredulously. Without speaking, he handed the phone to Peter who spoke some rapid words into the phone and Jennifer could tell he was no longer bargaining but ordering someone to do something. He handed the phone back to Jack who was visibly dazed but he shook Peter's hand before the two returned to Jennifer.

"Jennifer, I'm retiring and I've had a long life in car sales. Never has anyone bargained as hard as Peter and just as well, else the company would go bankrupt. The car is yours - insured, registered and on the road - all taxes paid for $25,990."

"Got that wrong, Jack, $25,000. Forget the pre-delivery charges. We'll do it free for this young lady."

Jennifer hurled herself into Peter's arms and kissed him repeatedly until Jack coughed, commenting, "I wish all my clients over the years were as grateful. If I can be bold enough to interrupt, could I have some signatures on the papers and what special number plates would you like?"

Peter suggested, "'JEN 808' but tell me what you would like."

Slowly Jennifer released Peter and sat back in her seat unable to comprehend how quickly the sale had ended. The question was posed again as Jennifer signed the papers. "Did Peter suggest that? Then I would love that number plate. Can I take the car now?" was her question as she signed the check and completed all the paperwork.

Jack laughed, "No! It won't be ready until the close of business on Friday. You can pick it up from Peter's workshop at say 5 Friday afternoon. However please, don't ever bring Peter back here kicking tires with you."

Jennifer was walking on air and didn't notice Jack give Peter a hug, saying, "Peter, you're most generous. Look after that young lady and I hope you invite the wife and me to your wedding."

Peter's reply went unheeded, "That was a little thank you for helping me in the sale. You've been a good manager over the years. Yes, you both will be there if, and when, I get married."

Jack gave Jennifer a hug, "Don't forget to be at Peter's five o'clock Friday else he will probably sell it on you. Look after this great bear. He's a good man, a better man than anyone I know."

They took their leave and wandered next door into the workshop to meet the staff. Joe was particularly suave, breaking into Italian and bowing low to kiss Jennifer's hand. Suddenly he threw his head back allowing his magnificent tenor voice to resound off the ceiling of the workshop. 'Non piu andrai' by Mozart killed the hammering of cars being repaired.

Jennifer was surprised and embarrassed.

Laughing Peter explained, "It means 'Now my days of philandering are over'... Joe is trying to marry me off. Are you free sometime soon?"

The answer was a punch in the arm and Jennifer's smile, "Just behave."



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 10



It was when the magic of the day was ending and they sat in Peter's car outside Jennifer's apartment that Peter put forward a suggestion hoping she would agree to his plans.

"Would you like a weekend away from the city say up in the mountains or a secret place? Pack a bag, just a few things." The words tumbled out. "That new car needs a long drive in the country to make that motor work. We'll head north where it's warmer and not so crowded." 

Peter waited for an answer but there was none. "It'll do the car the world of good."

Slowly Jennifer shook her head.

"You really don't trust me, do you, Jennifer? After all this time, you still don't trust me so am I wasting my time loving you?" Peter looked surprised at his own vehemence as he walked around the car to assist Jennifer to her front door.

"On Friday, collect your car. I'll not annoy you anymore. I'll stay away. Why? Because again you have insulted me and frankly I don't like it.

"I have no idea what's in your pretty head but I sure don't like the lack of trust. Goodbye, Jennifer, I'll not worry you anymore. Find someone you can trust."

Peter turned and without looking back started towards the car. With squealing tires, he left.

The next morning Joe demanded to know what was wrong. "Yesterday you were all smiles and so happy but today, nobody dares look at you or they get their head ripped off. Peter, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Just collect a car for pre-delivery from Jack next door. Put the best workers on it and you register it. The papers will be on the seat. I trust your driving. The others may flog it. It is for a special person who no longer wants me."

Quickly Peter turned away not wishing Joe to sense the true depth of his loss. The morning dragged and Peter stood in the doorway staring into space when a certain British Racing Green Mini made its way slowly past him into the furthest work bay. 

Unable to cope, Peter wearily climbed the stairs and sat at the table, chin in hands staring at the blank wall.

The jangle of the phone startled him and Joe's animation alarmed Peter, "We've an irate new lady customer here, I've just sent her to you." Quickly, Joe hung up unwilling to listen to the explosion of Peter's colorful expletives.

Doing his best to hide his foul mood Peter opened the door in response to the timid knock.

"May I come in?" Jennifer look worried.

"Peter, sit down and listen to me please. You frighten me when you explode. You gave me no time to respond to your suggestion and it shocked me coming out of nowhere the way it did. I do trust you. I just had to decide what would happen if I... and you do rush me so."

"Jennifer, nothing will happen, nothing that you don't want to happen. I love you. Don't look so shaken, so surprised, I do love you and would do nothing intentionally to hurt you or to destroy any feelings you may have for me. I'm sorry for my impetuosity but I've had nothing to love in my whole life and my enthusiasm just carries me away.

"I speak without thinking. I've no ulterior motive in asking you away this weekend. I just thought it'd be a great opportunity for us to be together. That's all I could think about, believe me."

"Well..." Jennifer hesitated. "It sounds fun, but, Peter, please move slowly. You frighten me with your eagerness as though everything must happen yesterday. Please take our relationship slowly."

"Jennifer? Does this mean you'll come?" Peter couldn't believe her words.

Shyly, dropping her eyes, she whispered a faint, "Yes," before Peter swooped her up into his arms and kissed her until, breathless, she pushed herself free of him.

"Behave, Peter. You'd better wipe your face before leaving the office otherwise the workers may get the wrong impression. Could you drive me home as I have some packing to do tonight?"

There was a knock and Joe walked in, humming that Mozart tune. Peter noticed the lipstick on Joe's cheek and couldn't help himself.

"Joe, I've told you and told you, don't become familiar with our lady customers. I think you'd better get rid of that lipstick before your wife sees you."

"It was not my fault, boss. It's this impetuous young lady you brought here as a new customer. She demanded to see her car and when I showed it and explained what had been done and she saw her number plates on the front seat... well, the lipstick is the result."

"I'll speak to you later, Dad," Peter grinned, acknowledging Joe's age.

"If this young fellow of mine doesn't look after you and doesn't treat you with the utmost respect let me know. I have a big strap hanging behind the kitchen door." The reply was swift.

Jennifer hugged Joe, "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Now come on, Peter, take me home. I've such a lot to do."

Friday morning did not come quickly enough as Peter bounded to Jennifer's door to collect her luggage and to drive her to work. When it slowly began to open, Peter nearly tore it from its hinges.

"Steady on." Jennifer didn't struggle as Peter swept her up. "My dress is getting crushed and I have to be in court today."

"I'm so pleased to see you. You look beautiful. Here is something for your desk."

Thrusting a single red rose into her hand Peter wondered what she would think of his note. "Thank you for being you and a bigger thank you, for making me feel the way I do." He hoped she would understand.

"Oh, Peter, what a lovely rose and your note says so much. Thank you," Jennifer stood on tiptoe to lightly kiss him on the cheek. As Peter tried to grab her, she whirled away with a laugh, "Don't muck me up. I have to go to work. Come on."

At the workshop, during the afternoon Peter transferred two pieces of luggage to the Mini. As well, he loaded the CD player with music he had specially cut the previous night.

Even Joe noticed Peter's light heart. "You're in a good mood," he shouted across the noise. You've done nothing but whistle all day." At afternoon break, he continued his tease, "Is there something special in that tune?"

"Why?" The new apprentices were interested but too young to understand.

"Well..." Joe's chest swelled and he began singing the tune Peter had been whistling.

"You've a marvelous voice."

It became too much and Peter made it a duet.

The apprentice looked puzzled. "What's the song? I don't speak Italian."

Joe began to laugh and the wide grin showed what Peter had been thinking, "It's very rough English translation is 'Now my days of philandering are over.'

"Why are there two small suitcases in the boot, Peter?" His eyes twinkled. He knew, but as foreman, he wanted to tease the boss, "Off for the weekend with someone special, eh?"

Peter blushed furiously but his denials only brought more good-natured teasing. Not that Peter cared. He was too happy. Even the apprentice's comments when Peter appeared in a suit to ask Joe to lock up, did not break through his euphoria.

"My, you do look smart," Jennifer was surprised when he called at her office as she finished her day. "Those blue tones suit you. I feel under-dressed."

"You look beautiful," Peter's eyes glowed as he admitted, "I always have to choose carefully as you always look so attractive and tonight every man in town will envy me."

Jennifer took Peter's arm before asking, "Where's my car? I'm so excited. Take me there now, please Peter I can't wait any longer."

In the taxi, Jennifer was quiet. Another Jennifer was there and, when Peter tried to hold her hand, he knew by her stiffness, he was not doing the correct thing.

She waited until Peter unlocked the workshop before speaking, "I'm worried, Peter. Perhaps it's best if we don't go off tonight."

Putting his arm around her Peter dragged her against his shoulder, "For heaven's sake will you stop worrying? Stop talking and for once just relax with me. I promise you no funny business," and she looked up into his eyes. Peter grinned. "Come in and I'll explain."

Jennifer forgot her apprehension when she saw her car waiting under the spotlights on a red carpet with her own number plates. It seemed all ready to leave immediately. She inspected the car and tried to understand the care Joe had put into the pre-delivery.

'Just a little something for someone who makes the boss so happy' was his note on the front seat and as she turned the key, the sounds of 'Love Changes Everything' filled the car.

Her face lit up and she whirled about to give Peter a brief hug. "The car is more beautiful than I remember and it cost a lot more than I paid for it. I don't know how or why but I am grateful. How can I ever repay you?"

"Come upstairs and freshen up before we leave because I want you to understand something so this weekend will be perfect."

Reluctantly she followed. "So this is your hideaway. Bob was telling everybody what a sly fox you are."

She dropped her eyes demurely before shyly continuing, "But, I didn't believe him. Not everyone has a one track mind like him even if all his actions are in his mind. What worries me is how will I ever pay the bill?"

Peter pointed into the bedroom and she retreated until she backed against the door. "If I were Bob I'd leer and drool, dragging you onto the bed, demanding, come here and I'll show you."

Jennifer clenched her hands so tightly the knuckles turned white.

"But, I'm me. So relax, laugh and enjoy. There's no charge. How could I charge you? I care too much."

Slowly she sat, her body taut, studying Peter like a bird mesmerized by a cat, ready to fly to safety. Saying nothing and becoming even more strained, she didn't move as Peter dragged his chair opposite hers to take her hands. They were cold and trembling as though she was terrified.

"Look at me," demanded Peter.

She dropped her eyes embarrassed by the intensity of his words.

Just as he thought - Jennifer knew. Taking her chin in his hands, he tilted her head until he looked directly into her eyes. "I love you. God, how I love you." The words tumbled out.

Jennifer's eyes widened, her face relaxed and Peter felt as though a weight had fallen from his shoulders.

"I love you so much it hurts. This weekend I want to be special," he tried to drill the thoughts into her head.

Her face tightened in fright.

"No funny business. No sex - just us. I love you too much to risk losing whatever I've gained."

Her lips opened and she stared, not actually believing what she heard.

"I think I've won your friendship. I hope so - and I'm going to spend this weekend trying to build on that friendship. Now relax. I won't hurt you, not intentionally."

Her eyes softened as she smiled.

"You little fool. Let yourself go with me. I'm your slave. Jennifer I do love you so damn much." Peter paused to draw breath. Jennifer's hands were no longer frozen.

"I don't know how you feel about me and I'll not ask. If all I have is your friendship then I am a very rich man and I will be happy. More, I would not dare hope for."

Peter stood and her eyes followed him, "I've never used that word 'love' before meeting you. It sounds strange."

Before continuing, Peter held his lips to her hair, "No matter what the appearances are. Keep this in mind. I love you too much to risk losing you. The rules, as far as I'm concerned, are to look after you, keeping you safe and happy. I'll also try to make myself pleasant so you enjoy my company."

Motionless she sat staring at Peter and didn't flinch when he put his hand on her shoulder.

"There I go, talking too much as usual." Laughing, Peter tried to break the tension, "Think over what I've said. Then decide whether you want to come."

Nothing broke her stare into space.

She was a statue, so incredibly beautiful Peter wanted to stroke and kiss her. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

Peter couldn't guess what she was thinking.

Jennifer smiled, her trance broken, "I'm not upset. It was just a shock that's all. It'll take a while to sink in. I should apologize for being a fool but..."

"No excuses. Would you still like to come away for the weekend?" Peter held his breath, hoping.

"If not, we'll unpack the car. Any presents are exactly that - presents given from the heart. No strings attached." Again, he waited. There was nothing more he could say.

Jennifer looked up, smiling as if seeing Peter for the first time, "I'd love to come."

"Thank God, you didn't even add and no funny business," he whooped into the bedroom and produced an enormous bunch of blood red roses. "I forgot these."

"Peter you're a fool," she giggled and began burrowing into the roses. "Where's the card? Knowing you, there's sure to be one."

"No card with these, just my heart."

She must have expected more than Peter's light kiss on the cheek, as she seemed so surprised.

"The bathroom room's through there." Peter pointed into the bedroom. "I'll put these in water and we're off. Which way? North? South or West?"

"Bob was saying you've been driving trucks to Bathurst so that's where I want to go. I want to see the road you're driving as Bob said it'd be no picnic."

Peter directed Jennifer though the traffic until they were climbing the eastern escarpment of the Blue Mountains. It seemed no time at all when he directed her to pull into a small, romantic French Restaurant, which seemed to perch over the lights of Sydney.

The wine waiter paused for Peter's order. Disaster! He knew nothing of wine but, sensing his confusion, Jennifer ordered with a smile.

"I see that I'll have to teach you. However, do as I say. I don't want a drunk hanging all over me," she winked roguishly and Peter knew everything would go well.

The meal - or maybe it was only Jennifer's presence - was delightful in spite of the occasional warning, "Sip don't swig."

Talking was easy and she was no Ice Maiden. She sparkled and glittered and Peter basked in her warmth. Those green eyes changed tints and were alive with laughter.

The music - the love songs, the arias, even the marches - and the climate control all helped pass the time as the car dashed onwards,its lights stabbing into the darkness.

At one stage, the strains of the Olympic Anthem 'Ode to Joy' were in Peter's ears and his hand unconsciously strayed to Jennifer's knee where it kept a rhythmic beat. Peter was completely unaware of where it had wandered until her hand left the steering wheel to pat the errant hand, "You enjoy classical music, don't you? You're not even worried by my driving."

"This is an extremely dangerous road and your driving skill is incredibly good. You and the car are a good pair," Peter laughed.

"With practice you'll be able to take over from Bob. He's all start and stop. I'm forever fixing his clutch and brakes."

Peter didn't consider Jennifer would be frightened when he returned from the motel office with only one key. She said nothing but was white faced when he carried their luggage into the one room. Blinded by his happiness he didn't consider it strange she had not followed.

Still Jennifer sat in the car, staring ahead, her knuckles white as she clenched the steering wheel.

"Come on, Jennifer."

She didn't move.

"What's wrong?" Peter dragged her into the room where she turned her back to stare at the floor, her hair falling over her face.

"Peter, I believed in you and now..." She began to sob.

"What do you mean?" Peter looked perplexed. His mind was confused. Am I ever going to understand this woman?

"You said... You promised... Now I find what you had in mind," slowly she turned her face, looking miserable with tears streaming down her cheeks. "You're just a man. I should've known better. I really believed you are different."

Straightening her back she threw her head up aggressively and hands on hips challenged Peter glaring defiantly, "I'm a virgin and I intend remaining that way until I'm married. The only person I'll ever give my body to will be my husband."

Peter's arms encircled her as he sat on the bed with Jennifer sitting on his lap. Holding her as gently as he could, he tried to explain, "Jennifer, listen carefully."

She tried to stand but he wouldn't allow her to move.

"Please listen. Yes, I'm a man and proud of it. I'm no boy who would attack you, dragging you off to batter down your resistance. I'm a man. Hear me," tenderly he lifted her face to kiss her eyes - first one eyelid then the other.

"I didn't lie to you. I can't lie to you. You've jumped to a conclusion and you're wrong. This was the only room left and I intend sleeping in the car. My bag is here so I can have a shower that's all."

Desperately Peter tried to prove she was safe with him as he continued, "You're a virgin ... so what?"

Jennifer opened her eyes, the tears ceased.

"You intend giving your husband a priceless gift."

Then it was all too much for Peter and grinning he added, "I can wait."

He stared into her eyes as if trying to mesmerize her, "It'll be me sharing your marriage bed."

His kiss was passionate. He had warned her he intended being her husband. For the first time Peter's love, the strength of which he had denied himself flowed through his body with all the urgency he had, all this time, held in check.

Jennifer's mouth opened to accept his tongue, which lashed her inner softness into submission.

He bathed in the sweetness of her mouth and enjoyed the silken dueling with her tongue. Her breath held the promises of a summer ocean breeze but it only inflamed him even more and his arms tightened about her holding her tightly against his body.

Then the kissing changed and Jennifer seemed to sag. Her lips were so soft, her mouth was open but Peter's tongue didn't attempt to explore. He kissed her with lustful words whispered onto her lips, which he sucked as Jennifer in turn kissed him. When their tongues finally did touch, it was outside their mouths, licking each other's lips.

Peter sucked Jennifer's tongue into his mouth holding it there ever so briefly. Again, he was kissing her, their mouths open, exchanging lustful breaths back and forth.

Their tongues met in a playful dance, equally penetrating each other's mouth, not probing as a man's tongue intent on seduction always seem to do.

Jennifer's body hung against Peter's and her tongue tried to attack Peter's mouth as if trying to suck him deep inside her. Her eyelids fluttered, her eyes widened before closing and her arms crawled around Peter's neck. She answered Peter's feelings with her body, which returned his passion tenfold.

Peter was the first to break their embrace, "My God, Jennifer. Do that again and I'll be a gibbering idiot. They'll make me a doormat or something." 

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against his body.

Although his renewed eagerness stunned Jennifer, she reacted quickly when his lips brushed hers in a sweet kiss that melted her resistance.

She tightened her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to accept his probing tongue. Peter deepened the kiss and her toes curled. She couldn't breathe and didn't want to. She only wanted to continue tasting his delicious kiss. Her body ground into his hardness and she melted completely.

'Oh, God, I want you.' Jennifer couldn't control her soft whimpers of pleasure.

Both bodies spoke and the conversation sent Peter's senses reeling.

Peter broke the embrace. "Now give me a pillow and I'm off."

"Off?" Jennifer seemed bewildered.

"You didn't hear what I said," he patted her shoulder. "This was the only room they had so I'll sleep in the car. Sleep tight." Peter kissed her cheek and left.

Hours later, a tap came at the frosty window. Peter's body was stiff and he decided that he would never get comfortable sleeping in this car.

"Come inside," Jennifer seemed ill at ease yet demanded that he follow her. Bashfully she closed the door behind him, "I don't want you to think the wrong thing but I couldn't sleep knowing you were out there in the car. You're so big and the Mini is so small. No funny business and you can sleep on top of the bed."




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 10



"Oh?" Peter tried to look wistful and sad but Jennifer only began to laugh, "I thought..."

"Go into the bathroom and change." Jennifer was in charge.

"I won't lock the door if you promise not to peep."

The only reply was Jennifer's giggle as she pushed him towards the door. The sexual tension between them was broken. She snuggled under the blankets while Peter lay on top in a sarong, cradling her head in his arms.

Softly she whispered, "I think I'm insane. I know you're mad and I think that I've caught some of your madness."

Enjoying the feeling of being well protected she relaxed. "You're really incredible, Peter, you say you love me, yet I do believe you've never once thought of seducing me."

Peter murmured into her hair, "How could I?" His arms tightened around her. "If I stripped, you would say 'Good God, what with?'"

"I'll bet," a soft giggle answered. Then she paused adding, "You're so like my brother."

"Well, unless you have a magnifying glass and two tooth picks you can't check."

Jennifer didn't answer she was asleep.

It grew cold and Jennifer looked so inviting asleep under the blankets that Peter gave her a nudge. "Hey, move over." and he gave her a push as he slipped under the bedclothes with her.

"What do you think...?" Jennifer was instantly awake, "Get out, you big oaf."

"I'm freezing." Peter pulled her down. "Please, Jennifer, I forgot my Teddy-Bear."

She groaned, "You fool," allowing Peter to cuddle up as close as he could. They slept in each other's arms.

A nudge awoke Peter.

Sunlight was streaming through the window, bathing the room in the eerie softness of a yellow dawn.

"There are three of us in bed and that third person is not The Little One." A muted laugh came from Peter's shoulder where Jennifer still lay.

Peter froze. Jennifer was right. His body had responded to her warm, soft femininity even as he slept.

"I'm sorry, Jennifer, I didn't know."

"Nothing to be sorry about." She leant on one elbow and looked down on him, "I've got a brother... I'm not that innocent."

Then shyly she added, "You've had me worried. I even thought you were gay. You've never..." She paused to kiss Peter wildly. "Actually I'm flattered. Now get out of here before I lose my resolve or worse."

Her push was enough to send him crashing to the floor.

Realizing Jennifer was watching Peter raced for the bathroom trying to cover his embarrassment.

A wild laugh followed him. "They say a cold shower does wonders."

Soon, hand-in-hand they were wandering down the main street. They were silent. The touch of each other's hands was enough. Even breakfast at a truckers' stop was a quiet affair. Peter's thoughts were full of Jennifer, her softness and the passion with which she had returned his kisses. If he had admitted he loved her before leaving Sydney, what was he to say now?

In the car, conversation was easier. They toured Bathurst, visiting Charles Sturt University and the trucking yard where Peter delivered the trucks. Jennifer even rushed the Mini around the Mount Panorama Racing Circuit.

Peter suggested a detour to the old gold mining ghost town of Hill End where there would be a woolshed barbeque and dance as it was Saturday night.

The old pub was packed and Jennifer held Peter's arm as she stopped him at the bar. "Please book separate rooms. Last night was wonderful but I couldn't trust myself again," perturbed by her own admission, she dropped her eyes.

"Do you think you can trust me?" Peter spoke softly hoping she had confidence in him.

"Yes," she had to force the whisper out, "but can I trust myself?"

"Then don't worry. You're safe with me," and he mumbled under his breath, hoping she didn't hear, "so very safe, my darling."

Peter had soon returned from the office, "You'll have a long drive tonight after the woolshed dance unless you want me to drive."

"Why?"

The only room available has a double bed and..."

"And what?" Jennifer closed the gap between them and placed her hands on Peter's shoulders.

"Well, last night you shared your bed because I had left my Teddy Bear at home and was frightened. Last night I shall never forget. A double bed..."

Jennifer put her fingers to his lips cutting him off. "Last night you thought nothing of sharing my bed. Now you deny me comfort." Her eyes twinkled merrily, "Provided you keep in mind what I said last night about remaining a..." She looked away.

Shaking her head, she looked up at Peter once more, "A double bed it is." Blushing, she giggled as she added, "But only the two of us. That third person is not welcome..." After a very long pause, she added, "Not yet."

"They'll think I'm mad at the office." Grumbling, Peter ambled off.

They spent the afternoon wandering around the old gold diggings where Peter purchased a small gold nugget for her as a remembrance of the weekend. Jennifer watched Peter balancing the gold in his palm as if weighing it and then hefting it from palm to palm before he began haggling.

The evening meal was an old-fashioned shearer's meal and Jennifer seemed in her element. "I haven't had one of these since I was a little girl. I used to sneak down to the shearer's quarters and eat with them. It was such fun. The shearer's cook always had something special for me."

Peter said nothing but stored the information for later reference. Jennifer was a farm girl.

Dancing after dinner was all Peter's heart desired. They moved as one. Her head on his chest, his lips in her hair, drinking in her fragrance, wallowing in her softness and the light touch of her lips brushing his transformed him into Mark Astaire.

Back in the room, Jennifer was mystified as Peter gathered all the spare pillows and cushions and placed them between the sheets down the center of the bed, "Which half do you want - remember I am right-handed." He roared with laughter at the look on Jennifer's face.

She didn't answer, as she just didn't understand at all.

"Well," Peter grinned cheekily as he cuddled her, "I don't want to be attacked when I am half asleep and can't protect myself. I'm not just a sex object - a toy boy - you've brought along so you can play with the goodies all night."

She roared and began punching Peter's chest but later as he lay in bed, he almost said too much as she left the bathroom in her nightgown.

"Don't move, sweetheart. Stand still."

She froze silhouetted in the light streaming through the open door.

"God, you're so beautiful. Your night dress is so sheer I can..."

She flew across the room to ruffle his hair and playfully beat him across the chest, "You lecherous old bear. To think I believed you are gay. I still think that I've taken leave of my senses and..." but Peter choked off the rest of her words as he wrestled her down to the bed where he splayed across her body, which lay open and inviting.

With her arms pinned, she lay unresisting, staring up at him waiting while he kissed her.

Every nerve ending seemed to focus on his lips until he began to tremble and shake.

"That visitor has joined us," she didn't smile; she didn't have to tell him - he knew. "Please... please..."

"I know - another cold shower." He tried to laugh as he stumbled off to the bathroom.

"Thank you." Her kiss was light as she snuggled as close as the intervening cushions would allow. "I wanted - so much my body ached for you - yet part of my mind didn't want."

She ran her fingers lightly across his lips, "You knew, yet you didn't. I think that I would've let you," her eyes were wide with surprise at her own admission.

"Jennifer, you're safe with me. When your body and mind and..." Peter lightly ran his finger around the fourth finger on her left hand, "all say 'yes' that will be the time. Not a second before. If I'm lucky, very lucky, the luckiest man in the world, I'll be there putting that ring on your finger. I will wait.

"I will never make love to you. Never! I will always make love with you."

Staring at him, slowly she began to comprehend his meaning.

Carefully, so not to frighten her, Peter rolled her away until she was lying flat on her back then delicately kissed the ribbons from her shoulders giving her face, throat and shoulders the closest inspection with his lips, tongue and finger tips.

"Peter, what are you doing?" she groaned but lay still, gratefully accepting his adoration.

"Merely saying 'Goodnight' but if I don't stop soon that unwelcome guest will be back and I hate cold showers," laughing he pushed the ribbons into place and holding hands they slept.

It was sometime during the night that Peter woke to the sensation of two warm hands on his chest. Not daring to breathe, he lay still, until Jennifer leant down to his ear and whispered, "I do love you."

He kept his eyes tightly closed feigning sleep as Jennifer lay down, to cuddle him.

"Your hands wander while you're asleep, do they? Where have all the cushions gone? Where's your sarong? Did it fall off while you were asleep eh? Or are you asleep?" A warm laughing voice sounded in Peter's ear.

Peter groaned, as he questioned himself. Why am I awake? My dreams have been of softness, sweetness and warmth.

Slowly, he unwillingly dragged himself back to consciousness. What... what have I done? His hand had wandered while he slept and now he was lightly cuddling her bare breast while the nipple pushed hard into his hand.

Only her shallow breathing as Jennifer lay still and her voice told him she was alive.

Slowly he withdrew his hand. "I was asleep. I'm so glad you threw those silly cushions aside. Now I can cuddle you properly." He knew as he rolled her to face him that he was naked. She would notice the throbbing message.

Perhaps if he were careful she would be unaware of his longing. "Can you lie still? I think that damn visitor is back but it's too cold for a shower." He could feel her shoulder wriggle with gentle laughter. "Just cuddle me."

As the sun rose, Peter allowed his fingers to stroke her hair slowly as he kissed her eyelids.

Enjoying her power to arouse him she neither moved nor spoke but merely bathed in the wealth of pleasure he evoked.

Lightly his fingers traced a web of gentle, pleasurable circles across her shoulder blades down her back to her hips. Frequently he paused, giving his mind time to control his own body. Mind and body fought until his body collapsed and his passions slept.

Then his movements restarted and the web grew larger but Peter was in no hurry. His lips danced from her eyelids to her nose, from her mouth to her neck, from her ears to her wrists. Like a cat with a bowl of cream, Peter lapped at her skin until he began to feel her respond to his soft call.

Slowly Jennifer's skin changed texture as if an electric current were jumping from Peter's fingertips to spark Jennifer to life. Like honey, she tasted sweeter and sweeter until her lips opened and Peter's kisses swallowed her soft sighs.

She rolled onto her back, trembling.

Still his fingers and lips wove their magic tiptoeing from shoulder to neck.

She opened her eyes wide and stared at Peter as if seeing him for the first time, "Peter, please." Haltingly she breathed his name as her hands began to explore his naked chest, "Peter!" and her trembling became more pronounced. Jennifer's body filled the air with her own honeyed essence and Peter breathed deeply sucking it deep into his lungs to burn her wanting into his soul.

"Okay, smarty," he threw the blankets back, "whose turn is it now for a cold shower? Thought you were smart, eh?"

"Peter," she breathed throwing her arms around his neck and clinging tightly.

Up came the blankets and he lay cuddling her like a baby, giving her time to regain control. Slowly he calmed her, "Sorry, darling. That was a silly game. I was paying you back for all the fun you've had at the expense of my unwelcome visitor. Now you know what a tightrope we've been treading. Both of us have been playing with fire but luckily, we've not burnt our fingers. Just relax and don't get frightened."

Peter lay quietly waiting for Jennifer to speak but she was silent. "Enjoy these precious minutes here because it will be the last time we share a bed."

Her body tensed and she tried to speak but Peter continued. "The next time we share a bed - if we ever share a bed again, will be when..."

Jennifer reached up, placing two fingers on Peter's lips. "Not yet, Peter. Not yet. I must have time..."

"At least you know one thing. You're safe with me, very safe indeed. Do you know why? Will you admit you know?"

Jennifer pushed him onto his back and straddled his chest her fingers through his hair to control him, "Oh, I know but you tell me."

"Because I love you. It was no idle statement to get you into my bed," Peter grinned as she began to giggle. "I do love you."



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 11



"Hey Boss!" Turning the buffing machine off, Joe pulled at Peter's arm. "There's an angry customer in the office." His grin broadened into a laugh as Peter stared at the lipstick on his cheek.

After washing his hands free of grime and grease so that Ted would have nothing to complain about, Peter slowly made his way to the office. Angry customers meant bookwork.

"Jennifer!"

Racing around the counter, Jennifer hurled herself into Peter's arms and kissed him.

Surprised by her actions, Peter stood still until she drew back.

"What's the matter?" Jennifer looked worried.

"You'll get grease on your dress." Peter searched for an excuse.

"Forget my dress, kiss me!"

Peter, surprised by the vehemence in her voice, needed no second invitation.

A soft cough, repeated, drew them apart. Joe's smiling face poked around the corner. "I've locked up, Peter. I didn't know if you'd remember."

"Come in and say hello to Jennifer." Peter's mind was not working well as he recovered from the kiss.

"I already have." Joe touched his lipstick-smeared cheek. "But I didn't get the thanks you were just given. Now that's what I call a well-satisfied customer." He laughed, enjoying their confusion as they held hands.

"How did the car perform?" Joe was the perfect Italian gentleman. He wasn't going to offend Jennifer by mentioning their weekend.

"My car is beautiful and I can't thank you enough."

"You don't need to. Anything wrong, just return it here and we'll fix it."

He stretched his arm across Peter's shoulder and took Jennifer's free hand before he turned to leave. "Anything wrong with this fellow and we'll fix him too. Just let me know if he doesn't look after you."

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "See you." He was gone.

"Joe is cute. Such a good-looking European gentleman -- and that touch of grey in his hair is so exciting. I could fall for him."

Peter kissed her so further talk was cut off. Breathless, she pulled free.

"You'll do nothing of the kind," Peter growled, but she only smiled.

"You haven't rung me all day and I was worried." Jennifer clung to Peter's shoulders. "Tell me you missed me."

Encouraged, Peter responded so forcefully she began to tremble.

"Steady on. I only asked you to show me if you had missed me, not to corrupt me. Come and get changed - perhaps a cold shower?"

She giggled as she danced her way up the stairs, dragging Peter behind her.

"Get changed while I wait here in the kitchen."

Mystified, Peter followed her directions and headed for the bathroom.

"Hey Jennifer, come and give me a hand." He called through the sound of running water. Pausing he waited until he heard her footsteps in the bedroom. "There's an interesting part here I can't reach."

Surprised by the lack of response, he listened intently until he felt the icy water thrown over the top of the shower screen splash down onto his shoulders.

The tinkle of gentle laughter answered his bellow. "Anything else you need?"

The moment he reappeared in the kitchen, fully dressed, Jennifer started her orders.

"Wait here. Don't move. Now it's my turn." Taking a small bag she had smuggled into the flat, she disappeared into the bathroom.

"I don't need help."

"Pity. Are you sure?" Peter shouted through the firmly closed bathroom door.

He studied her clothes and the delicate, lacy underwear lying on the bed and wished he could help dress her. Peter didn't know what Jennifer intended but she had certainly come prepared.

Dressed in a casual shirt and slacks and wearing his dress shoes, Peter made his way to the kitchen. From there he yelled, "Would you like your back scrubbed? My company motto is Satisfaction Guaranteed or Your Money Back."

"I can well imagine that would be your motto, but no thanks." Jennifer stood at the bedroom doorway, a towel draped carelessly around her.

Leaping to his feet and scattering chairs, Peter dived for her, but she just laughed, slamming the bedroom door in his face.

"You stay there and clean up the mess. A girl must get dressed in peace."

Dressed in a tan skirt that fitted her like a glove and a blouse that appeared to be a deep green silk, Jennifer paused in the doorway for Peter's admiration. She looked stunning. 

Her hair was loose and flowing, just the way he liked it. Jennifer never wore much makeup other than lipstick since her clear skin and flawless complexion made it almost unnecessary. Before Peter could comment, she dragged him downstairs into the street.

"It's my turn to be bossy now. Tonight I'm saying thanks for your help choosing my wonderful car and for a glorious weekend. So tonight you're my date." 

Squeezing his arm, she opened the passenger's door for him and waited while he belted up. She was completely at ease and in total command as she drove off without telling Peter anything about what she planned.

They ate, danced and strolled hand-in-hand, rediscovering the pleasure of each other's company as though they hadn't seen each other for months, although it had only been the previous weekend when they had been away together.

Back at the workshop, they sat staring at each other, both unwilling to say "Goodnight", until Peter leant across to kiss her hair.

"I'm sorry if I misled you," Peter commented laughingly, "but I'm not going to invite you in for coffee." He looked at his feet in mock maidenly modesty. "I don't do that sort of thing."

Punching his shoulder, Jennifer roared with laughter. "Peter, you're a fool." She was still laughing as she drove off.

Life was different. Confidently secure in his love and proud that Jennifer was still unsullied - as she wished - Peter found work a delight.

Days passed into weeks as they played tennis together, went to the ballet, attended concerts, enjoyed operas and developed their relationship around friendship and trust, but still Peter was careful. 

He didn't ask Jennifer to his apartment nor did Jennifer ask him to hers except for occasional meals and games of chess. It was as if they both realized what fire smoldered in their hearts. Neither wished to run the risk of losing what they had.

Slowly, Peter learned to control his jealousy so that when Jennifer gained the romantic lead in a play he was content to be a stagehand. He wasn't the least offended when she had to kiss on stage, although he felt it most strange to watch her with someone else. That was one battle he'd won.

Well, his mind told him he had won!

Yet one Friday, his jealousy was to be almost the end of their relationship.

"Miss Blake, please. Mr. O'Brien speaking."

"Miss Blake is out." Jennifer's Personal Assistant sounded peculiar. She knew something. "But if you hold the line," suddenly her voice became officious, "I'll put you through."

"Peter," Jennifer sounded breathless but excited. "I can't stop. I've got to fly." She was too excited to be bothered with Peter. "Someone very, very special to me is arriving from Melbourne this morning."

She couldn't know how each word plunged a dagger into Peter's heart and that with each thrust he could feel himself floating into oblivion. His body was suddenly a shell around an aching void.

"I'm off to the airport to pick him up. We'll meet tonight at the bar."

A click and the call ended. She didn't even wait to hear that he was off to Bathurst yet again to deliver the latest green and red behemoth. She wasn't even interested.

Peter's insecurities surfaced, as bitter thoughts, taking over his consciousness. His mind raced. She had said pick HIM up. He was someone very special. Bitch!

Christ, had he been led a merry dance? She was keeping herself for her marriage! He'd been a moron. All the time her love was in Melbourne. No wonder she'd been the Ice Maiden of Sydney.

Just give him ten minutes alone with Jennifer. Just let him get his hands on her. How she must have laughed, knowing how she had hoodwinked him. To think of all the pleasure that had been at hand -- and he had thought he had been loving and caring. God, the laugh was on definitely on him. Peter was burning with jealousy and hatred.

He was bitter -- very bitter and furious.

"Bad news?" Joe could read Peter's face.

"Bugger off! Get lost!" Peter didn't mean to shout. "I'm going. You keep the shop going and earn your wages for a change."

Joe's hurt look brought some sense back to him.

"Oh, forget it, Joe. It's not your fault. It's mine." Peter didn't stop to bandy words but stormed out.

"What'll you have, Peter?" The barmaid leant across the bar, her blouse bulging.

"This is twice in how many years? You're fast becoming a drunkard. Where's your handsome friend?" Turning away, she began exchanging banter with the next customer.

Peter's angry eyes followed her as his confused thoughts crashed through his brain. He knew he wouldn't be in this mess if he could be a bit more like Bob, bloody Bob. Bob's 'love 'em and leave 'em' attitude wouldn't have put him into this position. His mind already dazed, Peter decided that maybe he should follow Bob's lead.

Still Peter mulled over the problem. What was it Ted had said? Women, they're not worth the trouble. Bob a 'cream puff?' No, he was too smart.

Peter's mind continued to race. Even the barmaid is pining for Bob. She is pretty and sexy in a coarse sort of way. 'Any port in a storm' would now be my motto. Anything would be better than to have this ice in my heart. The Ice Maiden has touched me, frozen my heart and moved on. Well bugger her, I will not allow her to treat me like some lackey.

Sighing, he studied the beer in front of him.

"Hey, cheer up. It may never happen. It's not the end of the world." Bob's cheery voice broke into Peter's anger before Bob turned away to address the barmaid.

"Come on, love. I can't complain about the service here. There isn't any." Playfully, Bob reached across the bar to pat the barmaid's backside.

"A man will die of thirst waiting for a drink - and I thought I was your favorite."

Ignoring Peter, they chatted - he using his charm and she, being coquettish but leaning far enough forward to make certain the view would interest him.

"Monday night, I'll pick you up and let you down and pick you up and rock you off to sleep." His leer left the barmaid in no doubt as to what he meant. She tapped his arm lightly and left to serve other drinkers.

"I got a shock when Joe told me you stormed off. The two of you work together so well." He leaned an arm across Peter's shoulders. "Come on, confess. What's wrong?"

"Business worries, that's all." Peter hoped he sounded convincing. If Bob and Ted ever found out, they would soon crow the truth from the rooftops. Their smug looks and 'I told you so' attitude would be more than he could bear.

"It's Friday, remember? Meet you tonight - same place, same time." Then Bob was off.

The one time Peter wanted to sit and do nothing, everyone else was in a hurry. Blackness rolled into his soul. Even Jennifer was busy elsewhere. That hurt! It hurt so much the pain was physical. Leaving the hotel, Peter made his way slowly back to the workshop, planning what he would say to Jennifer.

She had said she would meet him at the bar. Bob expected to meet him there so Peter knew where he would head after work.

That evening Peter drove to the bar where he had first met Jennifer and furtively concealed himself in the dimmest corner.

Unseen, he watched Jennifer, with her 'special' friend, enter and move to sit with Bob and Ted. 

The friend's arm was around her waist and she walked with such a spring in her step it was obvious that he certainly was 'special'. It was no wonder! He was as handsome as Jennifer was beautiful. His hair was dark, and although slightly taller than Jennifer, his body was a lithe feline, yet masculine version of Jennifer's.

Bob would be jealous. Here was someone who outshone his good looks.

Jennifer was obviously excited. With an action bred from years of familiarity, the 'someone special' slapped her tail and pushed her down into a seat before bending over to laughingly whisper into her ear. She ruffled his hair and sparkled.

Peter searched for a scrap of paper in his wallet. With his mind racing, he believed this was no place for him. His mind moaned with complaint warning him he could not tolerate being with Jennifer and her 'someone special'. If he waited here any longer, the resulting explosion would definitely be dangerous for everyone.

Scribbling a note, he handed it to the barman, specially requesting that he hand it to Bob: 'Sorry I couldn't stay. I've seen enough - more than I've ever wanted to see. Tell Jennifer they make a lovely couple. I wish them well for their future happiness together - Peter'

Stumbling out of the bar, his mind a red, seething mass of molten anger, he headed for the workshop. He had to deliver that damn truck and there was nothing - nothing at all to keep him there in the bar. His mind shrieked to the workshop ceiling - shouting to the world. It seemed that he had been alone all his life -- he was a loner now and would be a loner from now on.

One thing was clear. Wary, like a lone wolf, he would take his share of the lambs. Like a wolf, he would be bloody dangerous.

Peter was careering downhill completely out of control.

Immersed in his thoughts, he hardly felt the soft touch on his arm as he stood gazing at the prime mover. Never before had he hated a vehicle but he believed there had to be a first time as his hand went to the ladder leading up to the cabin.

"Peter. Whatever's wrong? You look as though the end of the world has arrived. You look dreadful." Susie's soft tones melted into him and Peter's eyes clouded over as he turned to face her.

"Oh, it's just been a bastard of a week and now I have to drive this monster to Bathurst tonight. Frankly, the way I feel, I doubt if I'll reach Bathurst alive. Suddenly I seem to have lost the will to live."

"You stop that nonsense instantly, Peter! You've everything to live for. Now what's the problem with driving that truck?"

"I'm terrified of being alone in that cabin. The way I feel, I'm likely to fail to turn the next corner. Instead I just want to give up the struggle because I've already lost the contest before I start."

"What rubbish you talk, Peter." Hesitating at first, Susie stared at him while thinking for a moment.

Determined to get him out of his black mood pensively she continued. "I have a suggestion. Help me into the cab. Drive me home to get some things and I'll come with you. Moreover, by heaven, you'll get me safely back here. Okay?"

Instantly a thought flashed across Peter's mind. He searched for an answer to the question 'why not, why wait?' and decided that now was the time to start.

"Susie, I'd love that." He breathed every nuance possible into the words.

"What's wrong with your voice? Have you been drinking Peter?"

So much for the seductive tones.

"Jump up!" He hoisted her high into the passenger's seat, resisting the temptation to fondle her legs - no point in warning her.

Later, her bag stored aboard, Peter confessed his relief at having her there with him. "Thanks for the company, Susie. I really didn't relish this trip alone, particularly tonight. This is the sixth trip in just over a week and I am very tired."

"This is like riding on top of a double decked bus." Ignoring his comments Susie seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Ah, but this is much more comfortable." Leaning across, Peter showed her how to adjust the wireless and the climate control. "There's even a bed behind the seats if you get sleepy."

Something in his voice unsettled her. She stared at Peter, a look of dismay in her eyes. "I didn't come so that you could have your wicked way with me!" Her words were teasing and her eyes twinkled.

"Oh, I know. No funny business." Peter sounded so bitter that Susie realized that Jennifer must have caused his blackness, but she held her tongue.

"Just be quiet for a while. These things are a real handful in traffic." Convincingly, Peter lied as the truck had buckets of gears and there was no loaded trailer behind. Cars were keeping clear, their drivers fearful of disappearing underneath.

As he drove, he asked himself why he should listen to Susie's protestations of innocence. She knew very well what he intended when she volunteered to come along. He had listened to Jennifer and where did that get him?

Even now, she was probably taking her 'special friend' back to her flat for coffee and bed. She wouldn't tell him she was saving herself for marriage. Oh, no, she had already given herself to that man many times. That slap on the rump said more than words could express.

Peter rubbed his forehead, unaware of Susie's perplexed stare as she watched him closely. Seeing the lights of the restaurant where he had wined and dined Jennifer on that happiest of trips, his eyes moistened and he wiped tears from his face.

Noticing his despair Susie stared at him, making no comment to break into his anguish, hoping it would pass. She listened to the radio, prattling on and seemed to doze now and then, but she didn't stop watching Peter carefully for more covert displays of distress.

She was worried about him.

Peter's eyes burnt and he knew he was exhausted, but there still remained something he had to do. He was a lone wolf and he hadn't even bared his teeth. The lonely little motel at Kelso, the little village just short of Bathurst, would be small enough for what he planned.

Midnight had passed when flashing blue lights and the brief whine of a siren interrupted his thoughts. Police! His foot had responded to the urgency in his mind.

The silence as the engine died and the lack of movement as Peter halted behind the police car woke Susie.

"What's happened?" She rubbed her eyes. "I must have dozed off. Are we there?"

"No. Go back to sleep."

Peter patted her leg to reassure her, but she quickly brushed his hand aside. His anger flared briefly and then settled. "You'll keep, Susie, you'll keep," he recited in his mind at the same time as he spoke.

"We have police trouble. I was speeding."

Peter's words were unnecessary. She was asleep.

"In a bit of a hurry eh, driver?" Before the officer could demand that Peter produce his driver's license, his partner called him back to the pursuit car.

Peter waited.

The officer returned to climb up and speak through the driver's window.

"You're lucky. There's a truck broken down towards Bathurst and it's a traffic hazard. Help clear the road and we'll forget you thought you were flying a Boeing."

Grinning, he paused to study Peter quizzically.

"Okay," replied Peter. "It'll be my pleasure. Lead the way -- or would you like a tow?" Peter's chuckle split the night air.

"The speed you travel?" The young officer pushed his cap back from his forehead. "No thanks. You follow - slowly." He was laughing as he joined his mate.

It took only a few minutes to reach the other truck, its trailer laden with cattle that stared, stomped and bellowed their anger at the men's efforts to hitch the trailer to Peter's truck. Then, with the other prime mover removed from the roadway and the trailer hitched, Peter climbed back into the cabin, but not before noticing that the other truck was bearing the same logo as the one he was delivering.

"Susie, get into the bed." He shook her awake. "We have a passenger."

His plans had come to naught.

"Sorry, mate. I didn't know you had the missus with you." The other driver looked sheepish.

Susie must have been too sleepy to explain. She just crawled into the sleeper cab and stretched out as the driver clawed his way up into the cabin.

"It's good of you. I was lucky you came along with no load. The cattle are due at the yards this morning." Obviously, he was a local.

Believing Peter was another driver, he chatted freely about the traffic, the price of fuel and the police radar traps while Peter mentally tried to make plans.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 11



Knowing that the Bathurst police who had organized him into pulling the cattle would know this driver, Peter had no worry about seeking his help. Besides, he was driving for the same company as Peter.

"I've done you a favor." Peter had to get this right. "Mate, perhaps you can do me one."

Easily, Peter slipped into his patois. "The missus is beat. She insisted on coming - just wouldn't listen to me. Thought I was getting a bit on the side. I told her it'd be too much - her expecting the first 'un an all."

All the time he prayed that Susie was asleep and didn't hear.

"D'ya reckon you could pick me up at Kelso tomorrow morning early? We'll be spending the night there. The missus can rest and we can go on."

"That's not a favor, cobber." The stranger was pleased to assist. "The rig'll be parked waiting for ya - cleaned up an' all. Things'll suit me fine. I'll drive to the yards, unload - there'll be stockmen on hand - and be back before daylight. I live in Kelso and besides, I work for the company that is taking delivery of this truck. The one I was driving is to be pensioned off."

Peter pulled to the side of the road outside the motel and helped Susie down from the cab.

"What are you doing?" She clambered down. Half asleep, she allowed him to lead her into a motel room as the roar of their loaded rig receded in the distance.

"I'm putting you to bed."

Still she didn't suspect Peter's motives as he began to strip her.

"Put your hands up."

Obediently she stood still while he tugged her dress over her head.

"That's enough!" She began to struggle as Peter attempted to continue. "That is enough! Stop! Peter, stop! No more!"

"Don't be silly." Peter struggled with her hands, grabbing a handful of hair, tugging it to turn her face up to his. He kissed her cruelly, biting into her mouth.

Valiantly she fought his advances.

"Stop it, Peter, stop it. What the hell's wrong with you? I don't want you to do this."

Peter cut her short as she felt him ripping the remainder of her clothing from her body. He picked her up and carried her bodily to the bathroom and under the shower where, despite her sobbing and struggles, he washed her thoroughly before drying them both. Then he tossed her onto the bed.

"Are you going to rape me?" Distressed, she dragged Peter's head up from where he was cruelly sucking her nipples.

"Rape went out with long red underwear. You know it and I know it." Peter knew he was sounding cruel. The lone wolf was howling to the moon.

She sagged, defeated. "Please don't hurt me. I don't like being hurt."

Suddenly feeling very tired, Peter released her and turned to his trousers hanging behind the door. From deep in a pocket he dragged out a tablet - one of those he had come to rely on to get though the trips to Bathurst. He tossed it to the back of his throat and swallowed. 

As he turned back to the bed, a change seemed to come over him. To Susie he was staring sightlessly at the blank wall in front of him. To Peter it was different. Almost in a daze, a shadowy memory -- his mother - seemed to crystallize before him.

"No, Peter, no! You're not like the monster who captured us, forcing me to share his bed and to accept his incessant cruelty." The vision of his mother, whose eyes seemed so sad, faded.

With a long drawn out howl of, "Noooooo," the lone wolf stormed out of the room into the freezing night air to slink off into the darkness.

He didn't regret what he had begun. He had enjoyed battering down Susie's defenses right up until when his 'mother' appeared to bring a breath of sanity back into his life.

The lights of oncoming cars made Peter dive for the shadows. He wanted no intrusion into his blackness. Suddenly there came a long blast of an air horn and the headlights of a truck approaching from behind bathed him in light.

A rough voice shouting through the passenger's window broke through the night.

"Where're ya headin', mate?"

Peter coughed, trying to clear his mind.

"Bathurst. Bloody truck expired."

"Hop in."

The few miles passed in silence - the driver too tired to converse, Peter too immersed in his hatred and anger. Let off on a street corner, he wandered the streets of Bathurst, not thinking, not caring. He just walked aimlessly until he found himself walking past the showground and back to Kelso. Once again, he was at the motel. It was morning.

Seeing the damned truck, that he had driven from Sydney, clean and parked patiently waiting for him, he could only just nod his head. That driver was reliable, no doubt about it.

Not daring to knock, he inserted the key in the motel door then stood leaning there, motionless. The pills on which he had so long relied had outlived their usefulness and his body had finally rebelled.

Wakened by the peculiar sounds at the door, Susie opened it to find Peter leaning against the wall. Slowly, and with a great deal of effort, she dragged the almost comatose Peter into the room. None too gently she stripped him and pushed him under the shower, appalled at the criss-cross of scars across his back and buttocks.

"Peter, Peter, wake up!" Susie was getting desperate. "What the hell's going on? Wake up before I call the police and the ambulance. You're on some kind of drug and I've completely lost patience with you."

Savagely she punched him in the ribs. Ignoring his moans, she continued her fierce assault until his eyes opened and he was able to lean against the wall without her assistance.

"Get yourself cleaned up and dressed. Then, when we've eaten, I want an explanation of these!" Opening her hands, she revealed six tablets she had retrieved from his pockets. Silently, she put them into her bag and sat with it on the bed as Peter found his clothes once more. "And while you are at it explain your back."

Dressed, he sat on the edge of the bed, the tray of food untouched before him. Unable to look at Susie, he was beaten, his shoulders hunched, a picture of abject despair he stared at the floor.

Susie looked intently at him, unable to believe this was the Peter she knew. Wordlessly she lifted his chin and was horrified to see the hurt, the anguish, the distress in his eyes.

At last Peter spoke. "I'm so sorry, Susie." His words trailed off but then he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry that I couldn't get a seat on a plane back to Sydney today. I'll take you to the railway and get you a seat on the express."

Still he couldn't look at her.

Without any further exchange of words, the air frosty between them, they left the motel and he drove the truck into the transport yard, coming to a halt outside the office.

"Ah, Peter." The manger came bounding down the steps. "I heard you had a busy night."

Leaning against the bull bar and ignoring Susie, he continued.

"You've been busy, eh, but nevertheless you've delivered the truck here as promised. Ten trucks in how many days and not one delivered late. You and your company are a marvel and there's a lot more work coming your way."

Then the topic changed. "What have you planned for the weekend?"

The manager didn't notice the bleakness in Peter's eyes or the slow drawl of his reply.

"Nothing. Bloody nothing." Peter had to admit to himself that he might as well tell the truth. The rest of his life would be blank.

Listlessly Peter reiterated, "Absolutely nothing."

Susie shot him a piercing look, her attention gained by the despair and resignation in his voice.

"Could you help us?" The manager ignored Peter's misery.

Oh, no, not another mate job. I'm no-one's mate, was the answer Peter wanted to give, but he was silent.

"There's a rig to be driven to Sydney for delivery Tuesday and we have no driver. We've tried everywhere. Seems everyone has the flu. Don't suppose you could help. There'd be a few bucks in it for you," the manager continued, hoping Peter could help.

Peter just nodded his acceptance. What else was there to do? No one was waiting for him anywhere. Again, he was alone, although he had to admit Susie seemed to care.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 12



Susie didn't speak until they arrived at the railway station.  Suddenly she stopped, sensing a strangeness come over Peter once more.  Clutching her little bag to her chest, she turned and watched, realizing it would take some time before the last of the effects of the drugs left him.

Once again, something weird was taking hold of Peter who now seemed to be staring at Susie as if mesmerized.  He was seeing visions again.

He could see beside her, standing there in the light streaming through the waiting room door, two figures - his parents.  They were frowning at him, their gaze steady and stern.

His eyes closed as he tried to shake his mind free of the two apparitions and he felt his mind retreating into itself once more, unable to cope in its drugged state.  A most wonderful floating feeling came over him, bringing with it an almost euphoric feeling of security.

"What's wrong?"

He could hear Susie's strangely distant voice and could hear the sounds of slapping.  He began to feel the pain of slaps on his cheek that forced him to open his eyes and blink in the strong sunlight.  The slaps got harder until they stung.

"That hurt."  Peter at last realized what Susie was doing.

"You're a fool.  You almost fainted, that's all.”  Susie clasped his arm tightly.  "What's wrong?  Surely, I deserve an explanation.  Any moment now I'll forget I’m a lady,” She flushed with quick anger, “although you didn't see fit to treat me like one." 

Peter sagged against the wall and she grabbed his shoulders, trying to keep him on his feet.

"Peter, whatever's the matter?"

"I haven't been to bed," he explained before correcting himself.  "No, I haven't been to sleep for four – or maybe five days.  It was just a long day followed by an even longer night and the day was horrible, a real bitch of a day.  Now it’s going to be an even longer night.”

She remembered he'd agreed to take the load back to Sydney.

"But I'll be all right.  I've been given these to keep awake."  Peter produced the bottle of tablets the yard boss had given him.  "I'll take them to help."

Brooking no argument, Susie reacted with speed and finality as she snatched them from his grasp.

"I'll have those.  You'll do nothing of the sort."  She was so angry she was shouting.

"These young people - domestic arguments."  The waiting passengers were critical.

"But your train?"  Valiantly Peter tried to resist but his body was rubber.

"Damn my train," Susie replied angrily.

Hailing a taxi, she pushed Peter into the back seat and demanded that the driver take them back to the motel.  It took the efforts of both the driver and Susie to get Peter back into the room and on the bed.

His body was demanding a rest.

Slowly, hours later his eyes opened.  The moon could be seen through the window and the lights in the room were on.  He struggled to rise.

"So the hero is awake.”  Susie fluttered into view.  "Do you feel fit enough to take me to dinner?  I'm starving."  She began to snigger as Peter threw the bedclothes back and stood up.  "No.  Not like that.  You're far from decent."

Her eyes sparkled merrily as she studied his naked body.

"Not so fearsome now are we?  Where's your manhood gone.  You're only a little boy in a man's body."  She laughed stridently as Peter, trying to cover his family jewels with his hands, fled to the bathroom.

"And, yes, your back.  I demand some explanations.  At least, you owe me that."

Considerably refreshed, they eventually began talking while eating.

"Now you've slept and we're eating, perhaps you can tell me what yesterday was all about," Susie continued her nagging.

Peter was learning more about her, but in his opinion, her nagging was a common trait of women.

"Forget it.”  Peter was becoming stubborn.  He was not going to answer.  "Let's go for a walk around the shops.  I'll collect the truck and take the load to Sydney."

"There's no truck.  Not tonight.”

Susie pulled on his arm until she forced him to face her.  Hands on hips and feet spaced wide apart, she glared at him.  "You can sleep tonight and possibly drive tomorrow.  Do you think because I'm a woman I'm here for you to tumble into bed whenever you get the urge?"  She was bitter.  "Do you believe I can't think?  Peter, you're even more stupid than you were last night."

The knives were out.  She really made him writhe as each blade plunged deep.

"You men make me sick.  Honestly I thought you were different but, my God, how mistaken was I."  She was furious.

"Ssh.  Susie."  Her voice had become a strident shriek.  "People are listening."

"Hell, why should I care?  Don't you want them to recognize you as a 'would-be' rapist - a rapist who would do it - if he had anything to use in a rape.  You are a poor, silly excuse for a man.  I suppose you want the world to think of you as a kind, well-mannered gentleman instead of a stupid little boy."  Her words sank to a hoarse whisper.

In the motel room, she pushed Peter onto the bed then dragged a chair close.  As he reached out to touch her, she recoiled as if he were loathsome.

"If you touch me, I'll go."  Then she softened a little.  "God knows what would happen to you, but I'll go.  I seriously doubt your ability to look after yourself.  You're just a little boy, lost.  Now tell me what's wrong.  What's been eating you?"

Peter stared at her, his mouth set into a hard line and his thoughts locked on his problem as he wondered what was wrong with him.  Women, that's what was wrong.  He decided to say nothing, no matter how much she stared at him and insulted him.  He would say nothing.

With no answer forthcoming, thoroughly exasperated Susie gathered up her things and left.  She'd tried so hard to break through his reserve without success.  She'd had enough of Peter O'Brien.

Lying back on the bed he allowed his thoughts to wander.  He couldn’t stand all that questioning and anger - just like his childhood – questions, anger and pain.  If it hadn't been for that phone call everything would be so good.

A sob welled up from deep in his chest.  He lay back on the bed and allowed his thoughts to race.  If only Jennifer would give me a chance.  He clutched a pillow and weeping bitterly, enjoyed the luxury of not holding back.  For the first time in his life, he howled his bitterness into a pillow.

"Peter!"  A light touch on his shoulder and a soft voice told him he was not alone.

"For Christ's sake, leave me alone!"  He punched the pillow in his bitter anger, burying his face, trying to conceal the tears.  "Get out.  Leave me alone.  Oh, for God's sake, leave me alone."

The bed creaked gently as Susie sat.

Peter didn't struggle as she cradled his head and cuddled him like the mother he could barely remember.  "Ssh, ssh, ssh."  Trying to break through the sobbing she patted him gently.

"Please go.  Isn't it enough that I am crying?  What else do you want?"  He shrieked maliciously, "Blood?"

"Ssh."  Ignoring his pleas, Susie continued her patient patting and rocking.

"Let me be."

Peter struggled against her but she only held his head more firmly against her breasts and rocked until he calmed.  Then carefully, as if he were a baby, she undressed him, put him into bed and tucked him in.

Reaching out to her, he grasped her hand and begged, almost piteously.  "Please, Susie.  Please don't leave me.  I'm so frightened."

Wordlessly, Susie stood there.  Quietly shedding her clothes until she was completely naked, she slipped into the bed with him and drew his head tightly against her breasts once more.

"You great big baby, I'm here.  I won't leave you."  She pulled his head up against her shoulder and patted him lightly.  "You really do need me, don't you?"  She sounded as though she couldn't believe it.

Peter couldn't answer.  A weariness of soul had overwhelmed him and he slept.

"Hey, wake up.  You have a job to do.  Get up.”  Susie was enjoying her newfound role of mother.  "Breakfast is here, so shower, shave and eat."

Monday had arrived as she ripped the bedclothes back and smiled down at him.

"Don't lie there looking all sad and sorry for yourself.  Get up.  It's a beautiful sunrise."  With a twinkle in her eye, she added, "Didn't you know you have a passenger - me?  Now hurry up.  It's early, so we can get a good start."

In the car park was a present for Peter.  ‘We have a load for Sydney,’ is what the foreman had said.  He hadn't warned Peter what the load was.

The chains were tight, the warning signs ‘LONG LOAD’ were in place and the twenty-five tons of pre-stressed concrete struts were ready for the trip.  

All the instructions needed were in the note on the driver's seat.  'Take extreme care or the load will be pushing you hard.  A driver will collect the truck from your workshop tomorrow morning.  Don't rush things.  Remember this is an enormous load.'

"Goody, there's a bed in here and a wireless too!"  It was as if Susie had driven all thoughts of the trip to Bathurst from her mind.

"Same cab, Susie.  However, a different trip entirely.  Did you see what we are dragging?"  Peter took her hand in his.

"This is going to be a really rugged trip, so you must agree to one rule before we start.  It’s going to be slow, noisy and hot - that engine is really going to be working hard.  Now if it gets too much you must tell me.  I'll pull over and get you home safely somehow."

Peter tried to be cheerful, pretending he couldn't remember what an ass he'd been and refusing to allow thoughts of Jennifer to enter his mind.

"Don't be silly."

"Susie, you don't come if you don't promise."

"I promise," she sighed.  "But it sounds exciting."

The grinding of gears and the howling of the stressed motor as they clawed their way up the never-ending hills didn't worry her.

"Oh, look at those lambs.  Isn't that a beautiful creek?  I didn't realize - isn't that pretty?"  Her cheerfulness made the hours pass.

"You're tired, Peter.  Pull over and we'll eat at the next place."  She was happy - giving orders again.

"It's a truckers' joint."  Peter was reluctant to take her in there.  "They'll all think we are lovers."

"Don't care."  She surprised Peter as he felt her hand squeeze his knee.  "They'll all be envious."

The sun had set as they reached the outskirts of Sydney, and the street lamps had been blazing for hours when the engine finally was hushed.

"That was some drive."  Susie patted the mudguard and turned to Peter.  "You worked hard.  I didn't realize that trucking meant such hard work."

"I'll get my car and drive you home."

She looked relieved.  "You can soak while I get us something to eat.  We have to talk."

Peter's face clouded over.

"Peter," she sounded a warning, "You've got to talk.  This weekend could have seen you in jail or worse."  She didn't continue.  It wasn’t necessary.

The hot bath was a luxury.  He was enjoying soaking the tiredness out of his bones too much to complain when Susie strolled in.  He didn’t even complain when she rolled up her sleeves.

"Okay, big boy.  I'm here to do your back."  She massaged him across the shoulders and neck.  Then with a smack and, "Food's ready," she left.

They avoided the topic that was uppermost in both their minds while they ate.

Suddenly over coffee, Peter’s conversation turned to the subject they had avoided.  "Susie, about the other night, I should never," and his voice trailed off.

Susie sprang to her feet.  "You wash up.  I need a bath."  She took a long time and answered Peter's teasing questions about ‘a massage’ and ‘a back rub’ with a screech.

"Get back to the kitchen.  You're far too dangerous to allow in here."  Eventually, Susie joined Peter on the lounge.

Taking his hands gently in hers, she quietly asked, "Can you talk yet?"

He shook his head, doing nothing to encourage her curiosity.

"What is there to talk about?"  He looked at her.  The glare in her eyes made him drop his bravado and he added, "I don't know."

"All right then - I'll make this easier for you.  First - explain your back."

Unwilling to reveal his story, Peter stared at her, wondering how little he had to reveal to make the questioning stop.  While he waited, trying to clear his mind, Susie gazed into his soul, willing him to answer.

"Well, my family was captured by brigands in Malaysia.  My father was shot and I was flogged to make my mother submissive to the leader’s demands."  Peter's head dropped and his eyes misted.  He didn't want to look at Susie as he spoke.

Knowing the distress caused by that answer, Susie dared not question more but she needed answers.

"Is your mother alive?  Have you any family at all?"

"My mother was shot in front of me and I am all alone - no family – nothing.”  A suppressed sob welled up from Peter's chest.  He held his breath, trying to bring himself under control.

"I am not forgetting Friday night - and you should be ashamed of yourself terrorizing me like that."  Susie was not finished.

Peter hung his head, unable to look at her.  She was right.  He had terrorized her, in fact.

"You intended to rape me.  Don't deny it.  I'm not stupid.  Then suddenly you stopped before any damage was done and rushed off into the night.”  Susie continued.

“That was not the behavior of the likeable Peter I know.  Peter the gentleman, Peter the hero who rushes to a damsel's aid with no thought for his own safety."  She paused to watch the effect of her words.  “Don't look embarrassed and get all brutish."

She adjusted their positions until Peter lay with his head in her lap.  Gently she stroked his forehead.

"There's something wrong.  There's some hurt deep down inside and I don't think it’s anything to do with this weekend."  Peter tried to reply but she cut him short.  "This weekend, something happened to cause you to lose control, but the hurt is further in the past than this weekend."

"Susie.  What can I say?"  Peter fought the feelings and the tears.  “There's really nothing.  I was just worked up and angry."

"That's right, you were angry.  Not with me, but you used me to work out your anger.  You really weren’t the Peter I know.  You had a wild look in your eyes and that was frightening.  You looked as though someone had mortally wounded you and you acted like a wounded animal - ready to strike out at anything and everything that moved.  Now, what hurt you?"  She smiled wisely and added, "Jennifer?"

The hurt returned the anger and he was unable to prevent the words from bursting out.

"Bugger Jennifer!  She can rot in hell."

"Oh?  Is that so?"

"The world does not revolve around Jennifer Blake.  There is more to my life than that red-headed bitch."

"Your words tell me one thing but your heart tells me another.”  Susie began to rock him against her breasts, softly stroking his face until Peter's eyes closed and the tears, unchecked, began to flow.

"That's right, let it out.  Go further back.  The real hurt is not Jennifer - further back, go back further.”  Sensing a slight change in his demeanor, she became silent, just cradling Peter's head as he opened his mind to reveal all the ugliness.

"My mother insisted that Dad take her to the Cameron Highlands for the weekend - a second honeymoon she called it.  He didn't want to go as he'd promised to take me fishing, but she insisted.  I believe it was a plan hatched between her and her criminal Chinese lover.  Oh, yes, I knew she had a lover as he'd forced me to put his penis in her mouth, her vagina or her anus by flogging me until I conformed.  He flogged me to make her do his bidding!"

Susie heaved and her words, "Oh, God!" went unnoticed.

"Dad was murdered and my mother and I were with her lover for years.  During that time, he flogged me to make her more passionate in response to his demands.  When released after my mother's tormentor had shot her, I was simply an embarrassment to the RAAF and I had no relations living who could take me in.  No-one wanted me."

Unable to continue, Peter sobbed uncontrollably for some minutes.  Susie held him close to her and stroked his hair, calming him slowly.  At last, he summoned some strength and sat up.  Staring at the ceiling, his hand in hers, he continued.

“As I grew, I became more and more reserved.  I soon learnt that showing my emotions gave people a chance to hurt me.  Any time I grew fond of a family they moved me on as if God didn't want me to form any relationships.  I tried to make friends with girls but they all laughed at me and teased me that my parents were dead or that my mother had been a whore.  Every time I began to care about someone, I met a blank wall and I hurt.  Finally, I just gave up.  I had become a joke."

Susie interrupted his long tale of sadness.  "You're no joke now, Peter.  You're someone special for someone special."

"Ha!"  The bitterness mixed with salty tears, "That 'someone special', as you call her, is a first rate, lying bitch."

Susie recoiled from his vehemence but said nothing.  Her stroking demanded he continue.

"I told her," God, he was so bitter, "I told her I loved her - I loved her so much I hadn't touched her.  She said she was a virgin and I said I'd wait until we were married."

Wide eyed, he stopped, realizing the implications of what he had blurted out.  The thought of what he had done to Susie and what he had intended doing made his breakdown complete and he sobbed bitterly.

The rocking and the stroking continued.  "Come on, there's more yet."

"Well,” slowly Peter returned to his story, "Jennifer called.  No, I called her and the bitch was too busy to talk.  She told me she was off to the airport to pick up someone special from Melbourne and demanded I meet the two of them Friday night.  She was too excited to talk and it was obvious what this man meant to her.  Christ, what a bitch!"

Susie stiffened and said nothing.  She didn't have any answers, so the best thing she could do for Peter was to listen.

"I went along to meet them in our usual place, knowing the pattern of my life was continuing, but in actual fact I was really fascinated that I couldn’t break free of the pattern.  They didn't see me.  They were too engrossed in each other, too involved holding hands.  Bloody hell!  'Someone special' is exactly what she called him."

Between sobs, he retreated into his childhood for something to compare with such a loss.

“Christ, I wasn't even allowed a kitten or puppy of my own."  He shook as he cried - there were no more dark corners.

Susie allowed his sobbing to die so that he had time to regain his composure.  When she spoke, it was so kindly and so softly, he could have sworn she spoke as his mother.

"There's still more.  There's still more.  You took me off to rape me.  I must know the lot.  Otherwise I can't help you because I still can't understand."

He had told so much of those parts of his life kept secret until now that Peter knew he had to tell the rest as it involved Susie.  At least he owed her that much.

"I left.  I couldn't go across the room and talk to them.  They weren't the least interested in anyone else – I could see it was enough for them to be with each other.  I got back to the workshop and rolled that bloody truck out.

“I wanted to kill myself.  What was the use of continuing?  God was laughing at me.  What a bloody good joke on me.

“I loved her - I hadn't touched her although I was always on fire for her - and all the time she belonged to someone else.  All I wanted to do was smash everything.  What was the point?  My mother didn't want me.  Jennifer definitely didn't want me.  I felt I couldn't continue, but then you were there suddenly, standing there and offering to help by going with me.  I was lashing out at women."

He sat up and took Susie's hands but still could not look at her.  Head bowed he continued.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 12



"But why you, Susie?  You're the only woman who has accepted me as I am.  You've been kind to me, kinder than I ever deserve and you cared for me.  Yet, I was an animal."

"Better me than someone else."  In her kindly way, she lifted his face to kiss his cheek.  "I don't think you'd go well in jail.  No," she smiled and stood, "You're far too sensitive."

Their discussion had covered a lot of ground and it seemed to Susie a good time to use some simple culinary skills to soothe his distress in a more practical manner.  Peter allowed his thoughts to ramble until she returned with two steaming mugs of soup.

"Drink this and listen to me."  She was almost motherly.  "You've been hurt so much you expect to be hurt."

Peter sipped and listened.  Perhaps she could produce the knife to slash the tangled web and set him free.

"Now as an adult you still expect to be hurt and it hurts more now.  Just, look at yourself.  You're successful - you've a lot going for you.  You're kind, considerate and thoughtful and by God, you'd be an unbelievably incredible lover."

She blushed a little – a rare thing for Susie.  Still she stared at Peter.  Putting down her soup, she stood and walked in front of him.  Grasping his head in both hands, she held it so firmly that he felt he couldn't escape the intensity of her gaze.

"Has that penetrated that thick head of yours?  You have a lot more going for you than most, so now it's time to get rid of the anger."

She began shaking his head from side to side until he begged her to stop.

"Susie, stop.  Stop, I understand."

Susie laughed.  "Now this 'someone special' that Jennifer mentioned.  There are many reasons why she picked someone up at the airport.  What if he was her boss?"

"A boss doesn't slap her backside unless he owns her."

Susie blanched but she wouldn't stop.  Ignoring his interjection, she continued, "You jump to one conclusion and are hurt.  I suppose I can't blame you.  You've had no relationship in your life with which to judge this one."

Peter could feel the tears beginning to flow once again.  Susie's countenance hardened.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself or I'll slap you hard."  Like a mother, she badgered him until he admitted that perhaps he might have been mistaken.

"Go on, Peter, don't give up.  Just because you're an adult, you've given up fighting.  If you want her, fight for her.  She won't throw herself into your lap.  That's not the way of women."

They sat and talked into the night.

"Susie, how can I thank you?  How do I show how very sorry I am for Friday night?"  Peter didn't know how to apologize.  "I don't deserve a friend like you."

"I believe you've already thanked my husband and me.  You secured him a marvelous position and the little I have done doesn't repay you in the least."  She led Peter to the door.

"If you stand there looking lost like that, I might just drag you back inside.  Forget Friday night.  I have.  Actually, I realized how much you wanted me and I felt flattered.  It did the old ego good."  She laughed at his  surprise.  "Now go home to bed."

As she softly closed the door, she added, "Just be there when I need you."

The next morning at work, Peter could have fainted.  Yet another monster stood outside the workshop ready to deliver.  The workers must have toiled overtime to get this one ready.  His heart sank at the prospect of yet another drive.

Joe was not at all happy when he arrived.  He snarled and growled at everyone, especially Peter.

Believing he'd wrecked everything he had struggled so hard to establish and wishing to make amends, Peter called Joe from the paint booth.

"Joe.  Come upstairs, I want to talk."

Joe didn't look the least surprised as he walked into the apartment.

"I'm sorry for Friday.  You're a first class workman and an even better foreman.  I don't ever want to hurt you or lose you.  Please.  I'm so sorry for Friday.  It's just things got out of control."

"Jennifer?  Yes, I know."

So Joe had known all this time.  Peter supposed that being a married man he had been through it all.

"I worked Saturday and she rang first thing.  Then she called in.  There was a handsome young man in her Mini so I knew why you had exploded."

He laughed and, to Peter's surprise, he found himself joining Joe's laughter.

"Funny though, she was so worried - seemed frantic.  Demanded to know where you were.  Even rang the company in Bathurst on the office phone.  She nearly went crazy when the foreman said…"

Peter's first thought was that someone had mentioned Susie.  Oh, my God they couldn’t have mentioned Susie.  He tried to think whether Susie had been with him at the freight yard.  Jennifer would never understand that.

"What did he say?"

"You hadn't arrived."  Joe continued.  "Jennifer wanted to launch a land and air search."

They both chuckled.  Joe sounded as though he had cracked a joke but Peter knew he was relieved that his boss was back safely.

"She stayed for ages, hoping you'd ring.  I had to throw her out so I could lock up.  Don't know what her passenger thought.  He didn't look at all amused as they drove off, but something strange happened.  I watched a car pull out and begin to tail them.  Three men were in the second car, so I wondered what was going on."

He changed the topic.

"Tell me you drove that load back from Bathurst." and he pointed to the truck in the street outside waiting the new driver.  It dwarfed the cars and buses going past.

"It was a handful.”  Peter laughed.  “I thought if I changed gears once more, I'd scream.  My legs tremble at the thought of driving that through the traffic."

"No wonder you look tired.”  Joe moved to the door.  "Have a rest for a while.  You've earned it.  I'll try to make another million for you."

Laughing, he left.

Rest, Joe had said but Peter wondered how he could rest.  Everyone was giving him orders.  Joe said rest.  Susie said fight.  If that's what his friends demand then he would obey.

With his hands behind his head, Peter stretched out and leant back in the chair.  Unseeing, he didn't think - he just stared, at the ceiling.

Suddenly the peace and quiet of the apartment was shattered as the door crashed open and Jennifer flew into Peter's arms hurling them both to the floor where he lay spread-eagled under her.

"Oh, Peter.  I missed you so much.  Where have you been?"

As if, she didn't know.

"I thought all kinds of things had happened to you.  I've been so worried."  Violently she kissed him, not allowing him to draw breath.

"So this is the hooligan who has been pursuing my sister."  A wondrously warm voice burst into the room and a glorious chuckle bubbled from the chest of the man bending over them.

"What are you doing to her down there on the floor?  Haven't you Sydney people any decency at all?"

A strong hand dragged Jennifer to her feet and then Peter felt the grip of the same calloused hand haul him from the floor.

"Wait until I tell Mum her daughter's no lady."  His chuckle burst into a roar of laughter.

"Well, don't stare at me as if you've seen a ghost."  Jennifer's 'someone special' was laughing and gripping Peter's hand with a firmness that showed he approved of Peter.

"I'm Andrew and I know who you are.  I've heard nothing but Peter this and Peter that for months, not to mention this weekend."

Peter realized he was looking into Jennifer's green eyes.  He was almost looking at Jennifer's face but for the shadow where Andrew had shaved that morning.  This man's hair wasn't exactly black but was definitely darker than his sister's.

"Well, don't just stand there.  I need something to drink.  Thirsty work traipsing around after Sis."

Jennifer followed Peter into the kitchen.

"Jennifer, get back out here at once.  I don't trust him."  Andrew knew they were in each other's arms.  

Neither of the lovers stirred until two hands wrenched them apart.  "I need a drink," he laughed.  "Come on, Sis."

He dragged her out of the kitchen.  "We'll never get a drink if you don't stay out here."

She shook herself free.

"Oh, well - you two go out.  I'll make a pot of tea."

"Peter, what happened?  You said you'd be at the bar on Friday night.  I asked Bob if he'd seen you and he gave me this silly note."

"Well," he allowed his eyes to skim over the note but he did not explain.

"Tell me,” with her hands on her hips she stood, her eyes flaring, demanding an answer.  "I've been worrying until I was sick the whole weekend.  The note doesn't make sense."

"I rang you," Peter replied and she nodded.

"You were so excited you barely had time to speak to me.  You gabbled something about 'some-one special' and hung up."  It all sounded so stupid telling her but her lips were two tight red lines and she was furious.

"I arrived at the bar and the two of you walked in.  Andrew had his arm around you and you showed you loved his attention."

"Why shouldn't he and why wouldn’t I react like that?"  Her eyes were flashing.

"And he smacked your tail when you sat as though he owned you.  He was so handsome and you were so obviously a couple I could only think I had lost you."

"Am I interrupting a lover's tiff?"  Andrew's gentle voice broke in.  He placed the teapot on the table and walked across to Jennifer.  "Calm down, Sis.  You're lucky.  If I'd been Peter and Peter me, there would've been murder done if Peter is half as serious about you as I believe he is."

He put his arms around Jennifer's shoulders.  "Stand up straight, head up, chest out – oh god, well perhaps not,” and he began to laugh as Jennifer punched his ribs.

"Stand still.  Peter, take a good look.  No wonder we looked such a charming couple.  We’re identical twins, although God in his wisdom gave me the height and the beauty.  Sis only got the brains and those two bumps."

Again, Jennifer punched him as he laughed.  "As youngsters we couldn't be separated but as we grew older my voice changed and my hair darkened.  Sis didn't have such luck."

"Andrew.  I am such a fool but I love your sister so much it hurts."  He reached across and took Andrew's hand in both his own.  Their warm handshake said it all.

Jennifer was glowing with happiness.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 13



The phone interrupted Peter.

"You're wanted. It's urgent and I can't handle this one." Mark sounded worried.

"I'll be back in a minute." Peter tossed the words back at Jennifer and Andrew as he charged down the stairs to his office. Mark held out the phone. It was Susie calling from next door.

"Get in there and fight. I saw her enter the workshop. You know she's special, so fight for her."

"I am fighting for her, and yes, she certainly is special." Peter threw in a quick reply but Susie had ended the call before she heard his words.

With Susie's message etched into his brain Peter returned upstairs.

"What are you doing for the rest of the day, Andrew?" Peter asked casually. His tone of voice revealed that he had warmed to Andrew although he found it hard to believe that this calm, mature man was the same age as Jennifer.

"I'll be with Jennifer all day but tonight I'm free. Perhaps we could all go to Chinatown."

"No." Peter interrupted. "You're both my guests." He was going to impress Andrew who would prove a valuable ally if Peter were to win Jennifer.

"How would you both like an Indian meal such as you've never had in your life? Promise it won't burn your throat out. Alternatively, you may prefer perhaps Chinese or Thai. You decide."

"Shall we say an Indian meal?" Jennifer spoke for them both. "I'll bring Andrew around to your place at 7.30."

Enjoying her position as boss of the two men in her life, she was all smiles.

"Wait a bit and I'll check." Peter dashed down the stairs again and called Joe over. "That car you mentioned. You said it followed Andrew and Jennifer on Saturday. Is it outside, today?"

"Yes." Joe grinned, reinforcing how astute a thinker he was, as he continued, "I knew you'd want to deal with it so I have a car ready for you to drive straight out of the workshop to 'road test'. It has more than enough power to keep with the car which is following Jennifer and her brother, no matter how fast they go."

The car Joe had standing ready was an ex-police pursuit car he had purchased for re-sale. It was in the workshop for detailing.

"Good man. What would I do without you?" Peter rested his hand on Joe's shoulder for a second and they grinned at each other.

Joe always enjoyed a new challenge.

Back with Andrew and Jennifer, Peter voiced his thoughts. "Right, that's fixed." He walked with them to Jennifer's car. "See you tonight."

Immediately they left, Peter was in Joe's car following the three men who seemed to have such an interest in Jennifer and Andrew. For the remainder of the day he tailed them.

It was a strange procession. Jennifer and Andrew in her green Mini Cooper-S followed by three large men, all generously tattooed and driving a Toyota Camry, followed in turn by Peter in Joe's ex-police chase car.

From his position in the rear, Peter was well placed to observe the dynamics. When Andrew left the car, no one was interested. Whenever Jennifer left one of the tattooed men followed her, leaving Peter satisfied that they were extremely interested in only Jennifer. It was late when he finally rushed home to shower, shave and change before hustling to meet his guests.

Waiting for her outside his apartment, he watched Jennifer's car pull into the curb and noticed the strange car kill its lights before stopping further up the street.

It was still on her tail.

Jennifer didn't care that it was a crush with two big men in the Mini. She had her two men with her and was delighted. Peter gave directions and spent most of his time turning to talk with Andrew in the back while watching the headlights behind, as that strange car seemed glued to them.

At the restaurant, Jennifer handed the car keys to the car park valet.

Dressed in the uniform of one of the oldest regiments of the Indian Army, the Madras Regiment, the Indian recognized Peter as he clambered from their small car. In an instant, he drew himself to attention and threw Peter a military salute, greeting him in Tamil.

Without any hesitation, Peter snapped to attention and replied in Tamil.

Another Indian, also in the uniform of the Madras Regiment, led them to their table and he likewise saluted Peter before arranging their seating. The military bearing of the man and his crisp salute showed he was no ordinary Indian.

Jennifer wasn't surprised but her brother seemed nonplussed.

"The sahib shall sit here. Memsahib, you sit here beside the sahib, and the little sahib will sit here." The Indian held the chair for Andrew.

Jennifer couldn't help laughing at the look on her brother's face. The little sahib was shocked at his new title.

When the waitress arrived, -- all dark eyes and beautiful sari - Peter stood to place his hands together in an attitude of prayer, bowing slightly before greeting her in Tamil.

Even Jennifer was surprised - particularly as he began to talk rattle-fire Tamil while the waitress nodded her head, writing the order on her pad. As she walked away, he called, "And add three bottles of ice cold Kingfisher."

"Kingfisher?" Andrew was surprised.

"A Goan beer which is tart enough for an Indian meal," Peter replied.

"Jennifer," Andrew demanded more information, "You said this man was wonderful but you didn't say how wonderful." He laughed and patted her shoulder when, overcome by confusion, she didn't know how to answer.

The Goan Prawns, the Goan beer, indeed the whole meal was outstanding and Jennifer noticed Peter didn't bother reading the bill but merely slid notes into the waitress's hands. He seemed preoccupied and anxious to get them back into the car and away.

As Jennifer pulled into the circular driveway of his apartment block, Peter could see that mystery car still following them. He knew he would have to ask some questions.

"Give security your keys, Jennifer. They'll park the car for you and we can just go without a worry." The grimness in Peter's voice brooked no argument as he'd seen that car pull out and begin to swoop down on them.

He rushed his two guests into the foyer and they were soon in the safety of his apartment.

"What was that all about?" Jennifer seemed ill at ease.

"Ask your brother, because I believe he knows the answer. All day you've been tailed by three heavily tattooed men and they've only been interested in you, Jennifer."

Stunned, Jennifer stood open-mouthed. Staring at Peter as if unable to believe his words, slowly she began to understand his meaning. Terrified, she started trembling.

"Tonight they decided to swoop on you. Andrew - we need the answer please." Peter became decidedly rough with Andrew, pushing Andrew into a sofa where he looked most uncomfortable as Peter, scowling fiercely, stood over him.

Jennifer tried to intervene but Peter whirled on her.

"Shut up, Jennifer. Stop carrying on like some teenage virgin who can only giggle and talk about boys."

Ashen, Jennifer sank into the lounge. Shaken, she was unable to comprehend why Peter would be so offensive to her.

Moving to sit beside Jennifer, Andrew began.

"Ah, well, I do believe I owe you an explanation." Placing an arm around Jennifer's shoulder to console her he turned to her as if asking her permission to continue. "Jennifer, I must tell him what happened after that ball."

Ignoring her confusion, he continued. "We need his help. No one else can help us and I believe he is the man to assist us."

"What help? I don't understand. Who are these tattooed men?" Jennifer began interrogating her brother.

Peter interrupted her questions.

"Ah, stop all this bloody crap." Peter was infuriated. "Just tell me what's going on.'

Glaring at Jennifer, who was still extremely upset, Peter dismissed her from his mind for the moment. He turned back to Andrew.

"Now explain, because I'm completely out of patience. There's so much I just don't understand. Jennifer carries on as if I'm going to ravish her nearly every time I touch her, or goes all cold whenever she believes I am getting too close. She runs hot and cold like a Sahara Sandstorm off the Antarctica ice shelf.

Peter was pacing the floor in front of them, gesticulating to emphasize each point.

"These men - who are they? Explain now. What's going on?" Staring at Andrew, Peter paused for his answer.

He ignored Jennifer's sobs and words, "I didn't realize but really I don't feel cold towards you."

Annoyed by her sniveling, Peter barked, "Jennifer, go into the other room if you wish, but don't interrupt. We have to resolve this now. What's the bloody problem?"

As if gaining strength from each other, the brother and sister were now holding hands. Sighing, Andrew began his story.

"Something happened when Jennifer was 17 and she'd been to the school's end-of-year formal. I'd been to cricket practice. Having had a few illegal beers, I was rather late leaving the pub. As I was driving towards our property, I noticed there was a car pulled to one side of the road and when I passed, I heard a scream. I stopped and got out of the car, grabbing my cricket bat out of the back seat before approaching the car.

"Suffice to say, I found three mongrel students tearing Jennifer's clothes off and telling her how she would move her ass for them when they showed her what men they were. They were going to rape her, but I stepped in.

"The three bastards attacked me and their knives showed they were not playing games.

"Luckily a second car pulled up to help. Blue and Tiny, my mates, made certain I was not alone in protecting Jennifer. The three 'would-be-rapists' ended up in the hospital ward at the local prison and then looked at spending ten years in jail. They've recently been released prematurely for good behavior."

Turning to gaze at Jennifer who, realizing her tormentors were now free, was drained of color and trembling with fear, Andrew continued.

"I received a phone call on Thursday from them saying they intended to complete the rape and fix Jennifer for putting them away. They informed me they knew she was in Sydney and that the world wasn't large enough to escape their vengeance. Of course, their message to me was that once Jennifer was disposed of, they'd return for me and make certain I never messed with them again."

Facing Peter again, he calmly announced, "The three men who've been following us are outside in their car now. That's why I am carrying this." Looking distinctly ill at ease, Andrew reached under his coat to produce a revolver - a Colt Trooper Mark V.

With a contemptuous snarl Peter turned away to walk to the family altar. He reached behind it and returned with an expensive leather attaché case that he placed on the table. Staring fixedly at Andrew, he unlocked the case to reveal a Mini-Uzis.

Shivering, Andrew remembered he had read about this weapon and its effectiveness. It was the favorite choice of assassins. This machine pistol could fire from inside the case through a small hole, using a hidden trigger mechanism.

Andrew could only ask himself what kind of man was this.

Peter made a wry comment as he placed the large machine pistol, complete with silencer, on the table beside the revolver.

"I don't know why you bother with a water pistol. This is a gun."

Leaving the two to contemplate the arsenal for a moment, he walked to the balcony to stare down at the ferries and to think. Then, as if satisfied with a decision he'd reached, he went to his bedroom to prepare his mind and body. His life in the jungle had come to the fore as he realized that soon these strangers would be dead men.

Peter knew that killing was not such a difficult thing to do. Not when, in all his early years, killing and death had been a major part of his life. He could hardly remember a time when death wasn't prevalent - as much of a routine as brushing his teeth after every meal.

Having dressed in a sarong and a Baju Melayu (a loose, long-sleeved Malay shirt) he returned to the lounge room where he knelt before the altar, his head bowed in prayer. Then he stood, turned toward the twins and silently stared for what seemed an eternity.

Jennifer, terrified by the look on his face and the fire in his eyes, knew that The Little One was awake after a long sleep. His donning of Asian clothing only reinforced this knowledge. Finally, Peter broke the silence.

"The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep and there shall be one fold and one shepherd."

He gathered up the pictures of his parents and the Regimental Plaque. Peter then placed them on the coffee table, facing the twins.

Taking the two khukuris from the plaque, he unsheathed one of them. His mind was back in his childhood and he knew that Ghurkhas always kept their khukuris honed to razor sharpness and never unsheathed their distinctive weapon without drawing blood. With slow intent, he nicked his thumb, drawing a little blood as he lovingly stroked the blade.

The little cigarette box was opened for Andrew's inspection.

"Andrew, you are looking at death."

Accepting the accuracy of that statement, Jennifer shuddered, understanding that The Little One was here in the room with them.

"These people are my concern, not yours. They have done or intend to do something to my own sweet love, the woman I want to be my wife. They have also threatened you, whom I now consider a friend. That is something I can't ignore and I won't ignore! Tonight you will do exactly what I tell you and you won't question what I'm doing. You're not involved and you will never know anything. These people will be dwelling in hell before the sun rises."

Both Jennifer and Andrew shivered at the icy tone, the honest statement of fact. They knew those men would be dead before the night was over - this was no idle boast of Peter's.

Turning to Jennifer, Peter lifted her to his feet. Holding her, he looked at her steadily.

"The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep and there shall be one fold and one shepherd," he repeated. "I am that shepherd Jennifer, and you are my dearly beloved sheep and no wolves will hurt you. Now pack some clothes in a case and add some of mine for your brother. You need enough for the weekend for you both"

He kissed her lightly then let her go. He had a quick phone call to make.

Still too shocked to realize much of what was happening, Jennifer did notice, however, that Peter packed a tailor's dummy and a red wig into a second case before they entered the lift.

Jennifer's car arrived at the door of the condominium complex just as they stepped out of the lift in the entrance court. 

Not the least disturbed by Peter's Asian clothing, security immediately surrounded the car before the three ventured outside.

Andrew sat in the back and Peter drove. Jennifer was beside him and, at Jennifer's feet, Peter placed the second case containing his gun, blowpipes and khukuris wrapped in clothing. The case of clothing was on the seat beside Andrew.

Peter watched the other car immediately pull out and try to overtake them. He could only grin as he made the Mini fly until they were safely inside the workshop.

Assisting Jennifer upstairs, he told her to stay there no matter what happened while he and Andrew busied themselves with the truck that Peter was to deliver to Bathurst - making it ready for what was to become a most interesting trip.

Peter kept an eye on the glass windows of the office and was amused to see one of the tattooed men watching their activities carefully. Only then did Peter close the shutters over all the windows. No point in alerting the criminals to their plans.

Handing his gun to Andrew, he gave strict instructions to guard Jennifer and to shoot to kill. Laughing at Andrew's discomfort, he also handed him his khukuris, explaining, "This is not a man's work tonight, it's just child's play. I'll be dealing with three idiots."

Impressed by Peter's thoroughness, Andrew was silent as he watched carefully. Then he assisted Peter in rigging four powerful floodlights behind the driver's cabin and watched while Peter focused the glare of the lights through the windscreen of a car that he parked a measured distance behind the truck.

Andrew said nothing but knew that as soon as Peter switched on the lights the sudden intense glare would blind anyone driving a car behind the truck. One thought obliterated all others in his mind -- the conviction that these men were dead men walking.

Peter was just too methodical and too intent on what he was preparing to harbor any fears. He knew what he was doing and was showing his experience in killing. Turning to Andrew, Peter asked him to stay downstairs while he went up to Jennifer.

Carrying the case from the car Peter paused, looking back at his handiwork. Satisfied, he continued towards the staircase.

Upstairs, Peter hugged Jennifer. Emotionless now, he changed into a pair of overalls, leaving his Asian clothes on the bed as he gave his orders. They sounded cruel, but she was to stay the night with Andrew at the workshop.

"Tomorrow you will ask Joe to get the newspapers. Read them carefully. I tell you now that I love you with all my heart, and for the third time I repeat, 'The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep and there shall be one fold and one shepherd.'"

While talking, Peter opened the case, removed the pieces of a mannequin and began assembling it. Jennifer could only watch in amazement. Studying her in the same way as an artist studies his model, he carefully placed a red wig on its head.

Peter then asked Jennifer to remove her dress so he could put it on the model. She was shocked but did as directed, changing into a dress from her case.

The mannequin was finally dressed and he applied make-up to its face until he was satisfied that it looked like Jennifer.

As he turned to leave with the mannequin in his arms, Jennifer hugged and kissed him.

"Never forget that I love you. See you soon, God willing. Stay here and try to sleep."

"Peter, take care, as my future goes with you."

"Why are you carrying Jennifer?" Andrew's question assured Peter that the mannequin was lifelike as he sat it in the passenger's seat.

He strapped it in place so it couldn't move, but, as a touch of realism, he carelessly draped one of the mannequin's arms on the door. It seemed as though the real Jennifer sat there, eagerly looking forward to the trip.

He slipped on a pair of welding gloves while he spoke to Andrew.

"Andrew, when you open up, I'll drive out. Keep my gun handy in case of accidents. Follow me out. Climb up and lean in through the window to kiss your sister goodbye. Don't forget to shout, 'Have a good trip, Jennifer, and don't let that ruffian misbehave.' or words to that effect. Remember I am driving off with your sister.

"Come back in and lock up. Go upstairs and keep Jennifer there until Joe, Mark and all the workers arrive in the morning. Tie her to the bed if you have to. There's lots of food and drink. Say a prayer or two for me.

"Under no circumstances let Jennifer answer any phones or leave."

Silently, Andrew could only nod in agreement and stare at this incredible man who was driving off to kill three criminals. He couldn't believe that Peter was preparing their deaths so cold-bloodedly.

Showing no sign of nervousness or strain, Peter climbed into the cabin and the engine roared into life.

Waving goodbye, Andrew shouted after them. "Enjoy the trip Jennifer but don't let that man sweet talk you into anything."

He watched the truck as it disappeared up the hill with that car closely following before he turned to lock up and retrace his steps up the stairs.

Andrew could hardly believe that the face that greeted him, so drained of color, belonged to his sister.

"Peter has just driven off and the criminals are following him." Before he could finish Jennifer leapt for the stairs.

Moving more quickly, Andrew, grabbed her. Dragging her back into the room, he clapped his hand across her mouth to stifle her distressed moan. "Stay here, Jennifer, stay here. It's Peter's wish, and if you leave, you may put him in even more danger. He wants you safe, so do as he asked."




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 13



With her hair falling across her face, Jennifer sagged onto the bed and wept into her hands. She prayed that Peter would be safe - he just had to be safe - she loved him far too much for it to be otherwise.

Andrew and Jennifer talked far into the night. He admitted that Peter had certainly surprised him with his gun and the 'box of death', as Peter had called that special little case of his. Staring at his sister, he was almost demanding an answer to his unvoiced question. His mind could only wonder about the reasons for Peter having those weapons and why he knew death so well. He couldn't help concluding that Jennifer loved a criminal.

Her eyes dropped before her brother's steady gaze. She was tempted to tell him of Peter's history.

On this subject, however, she remained silent. Instead, turning to her brother, she announced, "I intend marrying that man. I'll have his children and together we'll make our way through life hand-in-hand. There is nothing you, nor Mum nor Dad will say that can ever change that."

So strident and vehement was she that Andrew could only answer softly, "Jennifer, all we want is your happiness, so forget that we will stand in your way. He loves you and you love him. Past history doesn't matter at all. It's the two of you - your life and your future and, frankly, I'm so pleased because he sure is someone special." He covered her with a blanket.

Eventually she drifted off into a restless sleep.

In the truck, Peter could hear the engine's sweet song. He pressed the controls and the windows slid silently upwards until he and the dummy were safe in the cocoon of the cab.

No need for tablets tonight, he was burning with a red-hot anger. He watched that car dart in and out of the late night traffic, keeping a respectable distance behind him as if trying to disguise the fact that it was shadowing him.

Eventually, at the old township of Windsor, the traffic had dwindled so there was just that one car and the truck heading westwards. Peter began thinking ahead to where they would make a move. His mind raced to map the road through the mountains and he decided that he would make it as difficult as possible for them. That poor little car would find the pathway very rocky indeed.

Accepting the plan, he decided it was time he acted upon the first stage. Braking suddenly, he watched the car swerve and skid, trying to avoid a collision. Then he accelerated quickly, leaving the car floundering in his wake. Laughing, he knew their frustration was building.

Constantly he repeated the maneuver as if annoyed by their following him, their high beam glaring in his mirrors. Through the tight corners up through Kurrajong he rocketed, as though driving a racing car. The car behind struggled to keep up. As the first overtaking lanes drew closer, he watched the car move out to pass.

Lazily he let the truck drift across into the same lane and savored the result when he heard a harsh honking on the horn and looked down to see the lights in the car interior switched on and fists waved at him.

The car dropped back.

Knowing that their road rage was building and would hamper their planning, Peter smirked and ruthlessly plotted the next step. Repeatedly, the car pulled out to overtake and every time Peter allowed the truck to drift across and block them. The flashing of their lights and the blasts on their horn did nothing other than make the truck roar off into the distance, leaving the car floundering in its wake.

Suddenly Peter realized the weather had changed. It had begun to rain. Grinning, he knew that nature was about to assist him. The rain slashed down and the truck just ploughed its way through the mist and rain, splashing through the water across the road. Peter knew the truck was better equipped to cope with severe weather than was the car. Ahead loomed the Mount Tomah sign - 'Mount Tomah Overtaking Lane 5kms Ahead'- and he knew the time had arrived for the game to end.

As he approached the long, winding ascent, he slowed and slowed as though the truck was finding the grade a little steep and he could imagine the excitement and the licking of lips as the three were thinking of finally catching up and getting their hands on Jennifer.

His years of studying psychology told him the people in that car had only one thing on their mind -- what they would do to Jennifer and that thought was clouding their rational thinking.

They were incapable of believing they were driving into a trap and death. Convinced they were indestructible, they believed the punishment they would hand out to Jennifer was their God given right.

As there were three of them and only one driver with the woman they would have no problems with the rape and two murders. They would never consider that the driver of this truck held their lives in his hands.

Peter was ready.

The overtaking lane seemed to rush up though the darkness and the rain. Giving them plenty of room to make their move, Peter watched in the mirror as the two windows on his side of the car rolled down and he saw two guns pointed at the truck. He heard 'pop, pop, pop' and felt a sting in his right leg as at least one bullet struck him. At the same time, the truck hurled itself ahead of the car and Peter switched on the floodlights to blind the driver.

The steep corner marking the end of the overtaking lane rushed into view and the truck rocketed around, all tires screaming their torture as they clung tenaciously to the road. Not so lucky was the car as it plunged head-on into the rock wall to explode into a huge fireball.

A single shrill scream for help quickly faded.

The truck skidded to a stop and Peter climbed down from the cabin and ripped the wires from the floodlights. He grabbed the fire extinguisher from its mounting, and taking the switch, the wires and his packet of darts with him, he tossed them into the ferocious fire as he played the foaming jet of the truck's fire extinguisher uselessly over the flames.

The sound of a siren broke into his thoughts just as the full realization hit him that his right shoe was full of moisture yet he knew he hadn't stepped into a pool of water. Slowly he crumpled to the ground. Unconscious, he knew nothing of the arrival off the police, the rescue services, the fire brigade or the Care Flight Helicopter that carried him to hospital.

Daylight arrived.

Jennifer and Andrew woke to the sounds of Joe roaring as he came up the stairs.

"Where the hell are you Peter, and where the hell have you hidden the Bathurst truck?" Joe stood staring unbelieving and stony faced when he saw the two of them through the doorway of the flat.

"What are you two doing here?" Joe did not pause for an answer. "What's the stupid bastard done this time?" He threw the two morning papers on the table. "Look at the headlines and the pictures!"

Jennifer and Andrew just looked at each other, amazed. It was how Peter said it would be. Getting no reply and still furious, Joe stomped back downstairs.

Andrew grabbed one paper and Jennifer the other.

'MOUNTAIN ROAD CLAIMS MORE VICTIMS' screamed one paper, and the photo showed the burnt out wreckage of a car with the truck in the background. The other was more bloodthirsty and the photo more graphic as it showed Peter sprawled on the ground with the fire raging in the background.

Jennifer screamed and fainted.

Joe reached for the phone and dialed the yard boss of the Bathurst trucking company. "What did you say? Are you mad? Bathurst Police will tell you nothing," and he broke into Italian.

The twins couldn't follow the conversation.

"What a mess, what a bloody mess. Yes, I will make those arrangements. Thanks for the call." Joe hung up and stared at Andrew. His stance was that of a beaten man.

Slowly he shook himself before helping Andrew to lift Jennifer onto the bed. Yelling to the rest of the team downstairs, "Put all calls through up here," he sat and waited for Jennifer to recover.

Slowly, she sat up, and with slow unsure steps, joined them at the table.

Raiding Peter's store of alcohol, Joe poured three small glasses of brandy and placed one before each seat before speaking.

"I won't ask what you know of last night's events because I know Peter wouldn't have wished you to know anything in the first place. That call was from the boss of the trucking company in Bathurst who'll be ringing back very soon with more news.

"Bathurst Police had phoned him. They'd impounded the truck, as there had been an attempted armed hi-jacking. He could give no other news as the police would say nothing until they had contacted the next-of-kin."

His eyes welled as his worry for Peter overcame his thoughts, but he put on a brave face as he tried to lighten the situation.

"Hey Jennifer, you know Peter is a tough bugger. He really is and you know he loves you so don't give up on him, Okay?" He tried to sound brighter than he felt.

Silence!

They each took a small sip of their brandy.

It was deathly quiet until Jennifer banged her glass on the table, spilling brandy over her hand and onto the timber surface.

"Why have I been so damn stupid with him?"

They sat in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts, each face etched with the anguish in their hearts.

The phone rang and Joe jumped to answer it. "Oh, yes. Yes. Yes. What? They can't tell you even now? What the hell is going on?"

Again, he broke into Italian before continuing the conversation. Eventually, conversation ended, he turned to the twins.

"The news is both good and bad. Three people died in the accident and a chopper lifted out the fourth one with bullet wounds. My guess is that the fourth one was Peter, but only time will tell and we can pray hard that it was him. He still has some trucks to deliver and he never leaves a job undone."

Heart-rending sobs met his pitiful attempt to lift Jennifer's spirits.

The phone rang again.

"What? What did you say? Oh, no - say that again. The police are here. They want to speak to Jennifer. Bring them up here immediately."

Jennifer looked destroyed as if the sound of the feet on the stairs was the march of Cerberus, the hound from Hades.

"Miss Blake - and you are?" A detective studied Andrew.

"I'm Jennifer's twin brother, Andrew Blake. Here in Sydney on business." Andrew pulled himself together.

"What was the business?" The detective doggedly stuck to his questioning.

"I came here to meet Peter O'Brien prior to his engagement to my sister. It was a kind of twin brother's approval meeting. We met last night and had a wonderful Indian meal, went to his apartment and came here so he could show me his workshop. I was most impressed. Then he drove off to deliver a truck to Bathurst.

"We spent the night here as Jennifer was feeling too under the weather to drive and I had been drinking. Peter had been the designated driver for the night."

"Why was there a red-haired dummy in his cab?" The detective was suspicious of everything.

"We'd been fooling around and I wouldn't let my sister go with him in case he led her astray, so we dressed the dummy as a joke and told him he'd have to be satisfied with taking Jennifer Number Two."

Disgusted that he was getting nowhere, the detective turned his interest to Jennifer.

"Do the names - " and he rattled off the names of the three men, "mean anything to you?"

Jennifer stared and was unable to answer so Andrew intervened.

"Yes, they are the names of the three men I prevented from raping my sister years ago." Andrew was furious that they were questioning Jennifer, who was so obviously distressed.

"Mr. Blake we must ask you to remain quiet. Allow your sister to answer."

Andrew's thoughts reflected his anger. What a bastard this policeman is.

"Well, Miss Blake, I am waiting for an answer, or would you prefer to come down to the station and answer there?"

"You heard my brother's answer and I have nothing to add."

"Have any of the men been in contact with either of you?"

"How could they? They're in prison." Jennifer stared through the police, daring them to contradict her.

"No, - you're wrong. They're dead. They were incinerated in a car smash - or possibly murdered in a car smash - after an attempted truck hi-jacking."

"How can that be our concern?"

Relentlessly the detective continued. "Well, the truck they attempted to hi-jack was the one driven out of here by Peter O'Brien."

"Peter, where's Peter? Tell me, you bastard!" Jennifer dropped all pretence of lady-like behavior and jumped to her feet. "Is he alive - dead? Where is he?" Her voice rose to a shrill scream before she collapsed on her chair, sobbing piteously.

The detective and his partner were shocked at her vehemence.

"Haven't you been told? We thought you knew."

Jennifer looked stricken as she waited for the trap door to open, allowing her to fall to her death at the end of the hangman's noose.

"Tell me. Tell me." Her scream showed she was about to physically attack the man.

"Last night, Peter was flown from the accident scene by helicopter. He'd lost a lot of blood as the hijackers had shot him. However, he disregarded his injuries and tried to put out the fire. He's in intensive care at Royal North Shore Hospital. Only next-of-kin are allowed in, but I dare say if we escort you the ward sister will allow you to see Mr. O'Brien."

The detective, looking a little self-conscious now, seemed human at last.

Jennifer would never remember the trip to the hospital, neither the blare of the siren, nor the speed at which they travelled - nothing. She couldn't even remember being ushered into the lift or walking into the ward.

She did remember the pretty blonde bending over Peter, holding his hand as she wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

She did remember shouting "Peter" as she ran to him.

She did remember the loving look that passed over his face as the blonde-haired woman dropped his hand to walk quickly out of the ward.

Her relief in finding Peter was short lived.

The emotional trauma of the past few days and the torment of the questioning by the police blocked any rational thinking that her education as a lawyer would normally guide her in her responses to such a situation. She was an emotional mess, her mind full of pain.

Her voice sounded pleased but her heart was frozen.

"Oh, God, Peter!"

Her eyes flashed with self-righteous anger -- all coherent thoughts smothered by the sight of the affection shown by both Peter and that woman for each other.

Her voice was almost a high pitched, bitchy shriek as she allowed jealousy to overcome her. She was no longer a lawyer -- she was a confused young woman.

"Who was that woman and why is she allowed to see you when I'm not permitted near you without a police escort?"

Peter ached all over. His leg felt as though it was falling off and the ache bit deep into his soul. Drugged with painkillers, he hardly knew where he was, let alone have the strength to answer these questions. He just wanted peace and quiet - peace and quiet to think where his life was heading.

"That woman - as you so cattily put it." He was tired, he was angry, and above all the inquisitiveness of the police terrified him. They had already commenced inquiries with Interpol about his back - part of his history - which he had wanted to be far in his background.

"That woman is your best friend. Yes, your best friend."

Jennifer turned as a nurse took her arm. "I am afraid you're disturbing the patient, Miss Blake. I must ask you to leave."

Shrugging herself free, Jennifer continued.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving and I'll never be back. Is that the woman you took to Bathurst? You tell me you love me yet you spent the weekend away with her.

"Don't bother denying your feelings for her and her feelings for you. I saw the two of you and I'm not a fool. Is that the woman you saved, then undressed and put to bed? By her actions, I see she really enjoyed your attentions. And you had the impertinence to profess your love for me."

The hatred in her voice shocked Peter as he lay still, gazing steadily at her. Quietly he whispered, "She's your best friend, Jennifer. She's our best friend."

In a voice laced with even more venom, she cut across his words.

"I will not be treated like this. I will not be your plaything, not now, not ever. Goodbye, Peter. I am returning home to Melbourne. There's nothing to keep me here in Sydney. Goodbye."

Ramrod stiff she fled the ward.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 14



Joe looked around the workshop, particularly pleased at how he had kept it humming along. The hammering of metal and the screech of the grinders played a pleasing harmony for his ears and the smell of fresh enamel coming from the paint booth made him smile.

In his usual discreet way, after warning the staff not to mention Jennifer, he had taken care to hide her car at the back of the workshop so Peter wouldn't see it when he returned. Joe was pleased. His thoughtfulness was a kind action to protect Peter.

His smile became broader as he watched one of the female apprentices scurrying to collect a buffing machine to finalize a paint job. The second apprentice was working with a mechanic removing a radiator and had a smear of black grease across her youthful face.

The only admission of their femininity was the cap each wore to protect her hair.

His thoughts roamed back to when Peter and he had interviewed the girls and Peter had insisted on signing them up as new workers.

Ah, yes, Peter. How could he stop himself--destructing? The silly Bastardo! Shaking himself, Joe realized he mustn't greet Peter with "Che Cazzo fai?" (What the fuck are you doing?) He had slipped back into his native Italian and realized that would never do.

Slowly he walked into the office to ask Mark if there was any news about Peter.

Nights became days and days grew into weeks until late one Friday as the workshop was falling quiet after a day's noise, Joe heard a shout from the main doorway.

"Peter's back!"

One of the female apprentices, screeching her pleasure, rushed to hug him.

"Peter, we're all so glad to see you."

Joe just stood there with his arms folded, watching, his face beaming as Peter shook hands all round. He was aware that these warm handshakes expressed a depth of loyalty that Peter's workers could never express in words.

Belying his true feelings, casually he called out to Peter.

"Yes, about time the boss did some work instead of lazing around chasing good looking nurses up and down corridors."

Peter looked across at him and smiled. He knew that was all the sympathy he could expect from Joe who'd already turned away to lead him on a tour of inspection.

In his reliable way, Joe had repaired the truck from the attempted hijack, renewing his friendships with the Italians at the trucking company. There were only five trucks still awaiting delivery and then the contract - the miserable business - would be over.

Joe began pushing Peter harder.

"Three months until Christmas and we might get our bonus if the boss isn't Scrooge. One truck is to go off tonight. Are you fit enough to deliver it? You know what they say about falling off a horse - the sooner you get back in the saddle the sooner you lose your fear."

Peter just laughed.

"Wait until I get my welding gloves and my overalls. Then I'll leave. It's no problem. And thank you all for putting up with me while I've been - well -- away."

He paused and turned back.

"Oh, and yes, Joe I've got the hint. The Christmas Bonus will be really special as a gesture of my thanks."

Later, Peter called Joe upstairs.

"Joe, go and get your wife. The three of us will eat at the motel up the street before I head off into deepest, darkest Bathurst."

At the end of the day's trading, an icy hand seemed to grip Peter's heart. He remembered his last trip and Jennifer's visit to the hospital. Shrugging, he turned towards the setting sun and waited for Joe and Maria.

Eventually they arrived, with Joe looking very suave and continental in a black, open neck shirt with a black and red cravat and black jeans. Maria was a little well-rounded Italian woman whose welcome smile reflected her pleasure at seeing Peter. Her Italian accent was more pronounced than Joe's and her devotion to Joe shone through as they approached holding hands

Laughing and joking, with Maria between them, they walked up the street to the motel that Peter had heard was running a good, licensed Italian restaurant.

Maria ordered for them and the Italian rolled off her tongue in a never-ending stream. She seemed to know the chef when he rushed out to greet her as a long lost friend.

Joe didn't seem the least bit frazzled when the chef arrived at their table and lifted Maria from her seat to hug her warmly.

"He's another one of Maria's myriad relatives. She's got them everywhere,"

Peter laughed as the chef returned to the kitchen.

"I see you haven't lost your taste for the old country," Peter remarked when Maria started on her meal of Porcini Dusted Sea Scallops with Tomato Relish while he and Joe hoed into thick T-Bone steaks.

As Maria and Joe sipped their Cortese di Gavi, (a dry, white, sparkling wine from Piedmont) Peter suddenly realized that he'd been drinking tomato juice with a slice of lemon.

Paling, he put down his knife and fork and stared at the glass before him. His heart thumped as he remembered it had been Jennifer's drink that very first night with her. Almost unable to cope, he found that he couldn't speak for a few minutes while his two dinner companions prattled on, oblivious of his distress.

Maria stared at him as he tried to cover his true feelings by laughing.

"It's okay for you two drunkards to get stuck into the wine but this boy is driving tonight!" He saw Joe staring at him and he winked before sculling his glass of juice and rejoining the conversation.

With an aching heart, he tried to be cheerful and to hide his inner feelings from Maria.

Her motherly pat on his hand showed that she knew of his inner turmoil.

The meal ended and knowing he had a few hours driving he paid the bill and stood to leave.

As they returned to the workshop, they laughed and discussed the weather almost as though they wanted to stay clear of any topic that could possibly include Jennifer.

Peter took Joe and Maria into the workshop office where they waited around, filling in time while he went off to put on his overalls and gloves and to find his jacket. He returned with some papers in his hand.

"You two behave while I'm away. There's a suite arranged at The Majestic on the Quay which has world famous Italian Cuisine. As well I have booked you for a seaplane flight and lunch on Sunday." Enjoying the stunned look on their faces, he threw the booking on the table. "Enjoy your second or is it your 22nd honeymoon. Maria, tell me if he plays up. I'll see you Monday Joe, if you can remember where work is. All charges are on me."

He chuckled at the unbelieving looks on their faces as they turned to look at each other. His generosity had stunned them.

"But don't send the company bankrupt!" he included as a parting shot.

Ignoring their embarrassed thanks, he marched off surprised at the change in the weather. Rain lashed down out of leaden skies and he pulled his coat tighter about him as the unseasonable, freezing wind whipped about him.

Within an hour, Peter was back on the merry-go-round - the relentless succession of pick-ups and deliveries, the drive to Bathurst and the train trip home. The grumbling engine dragged him up the mountains with the headlamps stabbing into the fog and mist.

It seemed only hours before he was back on Monday ready to deliver the next truck.

He had delivered truck two and then truck three with little difficulty, he thought. Yet it was only as he hauled himself up into the cab of truck four that Peter realized he was again relying on those same damn tablets from an earlier trip with Susie. Clad in his usual garb of worker's thick overalls and welding gloves, he settled into the seat and started the engine.

He remembered that it was Friday and he should be with Ted and Bob. Shuddering, he realized that he couldn't be with them - too many memories there for him. Peter shook his mind free of such thoughts and began to concentrate on the trip. Trying to remember exactly when he had last been to bed, he realized he ached too much to bother.

His throat was dry and his eyeballs felt seared as he stared into the fog that came rolling down the road from the mountains to swallow his lights. Rain smashed against the windscreen and the wipers sang an endless lullaby as the truck crawled through the traffic. Drivers hurrying home speared past, ignoring the darkness, the danger and the water.

Visibility became worse and the rain continued to lash down. Carefully he began the long haul up the eastern escarpment, past the restaurant where he and Jennifer had dined all those months ago at the beginning of that wonderful weekend. Still the truck crawled onwards with Peter's hands and feet dancing a constant tattoo - brake, accelerator and clutch until his legs ached.

He felt hungry but refused to stop. No, there were still too many memories. Mount Tomah loomed into view. Stretching his right leg, he winced at the remembered pain of that trip which so easily could have cost him his life.

His thoughts centered on Jennifer. Why have I punished myself? I tried to win Jennifer and lost. That ending was so final. Yet, his mind pressured him to go on. Jennifer's departure for Melbourne - I just have to grin and bear it. Ah, well, life goes on. He allowed his thoughts to wander freely.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to concentrate as the fog became a thick white wall replacing the rain and the engine growled its distaste at his efforts to crawl cautiously around the mountainside.

Even his police friends must have found it miserable and he gave them a friendly blast on the air-horns as he edged past.

Behind him, two lights intensified from mere candles in the fog to penetrating searchlights, scorching their message into the mirrors and burning his tired eyes.

"Bloody car driver," Peter muttered under his breath as a little green Mini flashed past.

"Jennifer!" Peter's shriek was unheard. "Slow down, there are dangerous curves ahead."

The red taillights disappeared around the bend into the fog, but then, even over the loud complaints of the engine, Peter heard the scream of tortured metal and the crash of the impact.

"Please, God, noooooo!"

Even in the short time it took Peter to arrive at the scene, a number of cars had stopped and the drivers had grouped around the burning wreckage. They jumped clear as his truck skidded to a halt.

Tongues of fire were licking the interior of the car as Peter threw himself at the wreckage. The other drivers reached out to hold him but he beat the well-wishers aside. No army could have stood between him and his Jennifer. He was ripping and tearing, screaming as if demented.

"Jennifer, Jennifer, I'll get you out!"

Peter shattered the driver's window and tore the door open.

The driver's skirt was already alight as he lifted her in his arms. The fire, denied one victim, attacked him, but he could only laugh wildly as he was holding his Jennifer once again. His head bent to hers as he heard a sudden loud crump and felt an iron fist smash into his back.

The wreck had exploded, hurling him and the woman in his arms through the air, their bodies crashing heavily against a distant gum tree.

* * *

A week later, early on Friday morning, Susie called in to visit her husband, Bill, in his office and to talk over their change in fortune. They had already discussed Peter's mysterious disappearance and were engrossed in a close examination of the pleasing figures in their books when she heard the door open suddenly.

Looking up, Susie was surprised to see two burly police officers standing before her.

"Mrs. Williams?"

Susie's heart sank. The tone of the officer's voice boded ill news. She could only nod her head in agreement.

"You are the next-of-kin of Mr. Peter O'Brien?" They paused, awaiting her reply.

Unable to speak, as if frozen in time, she again nodded.

"Mr. O'Brien is on life support at Royal North Shore Hospital. We advise you to go to the hospital as soon as possible. He's there as the result of trying to save a woman who was killed in a car accident. Should you wish to see him, we advise you to move quickly."

Almost with a feeling of relief, Susie sank into one of the office chairs. Slowly she looked up at the officers with tears in her eyes. Turning to Bill, she found the strength to give orders.

"Get Joe! Tell him Peter's been found. Get Jennifer's phone number, quickly please."

By the time Joe arrived, it was clear that Bill had informed him of the bad news as he immediately picked the phone and began ringing a number.

"Hello? Hello, Jennifer? Oh, Mrs. Blake. I need to speak with Jennifer - it's a matter of great urgency."

He paused.

"Oh sorry, I'm Joe - Peter's foreman. I'm Peter O'Brien's foreman. No, I'm not playing games," he said abruptly then he seemed to loose all patience. "For Christ's sake Peter is dying and we need Jennifer now!"

Furiously snatching the phone from his grasp, Susie shouted into the phone, "Peter is dying damn it. The police are with me now and I haven't a moment to waste."

There was a long pause before Susie continued.

"I'm sorry, Jennifer. I wish I could make this news more pleasant but I can't. Peter's been missing for a week since he drove off to deliver a truck last Friday. Joe discovered that the truck arrived at Bathurst driven by some unknown trucker, and since then we haven't heard from Peter since he left here on that delivery run.

"Two police officers have just arrived to tell us that he's on life support and is dying. They're demanding I go to the hospital immediately if I want to see Peter alive. I thought you should know."

Jennifer's reply was enough to make Suzie erupt. Furious now, she screamed into the phone.

"Don't be so bloody silly. He loves you and you alone, now get your ass into gear if you want to see him before they remove him from life support."

Pausing for a moment, she tried to re-gather her composure.

"Sorry for the plain talk. Get on a bloody plane now. Ring Joe and tell him when you'll arrive at Mascot, okay? You've one chance and one chance only, and I'd suggest you bring Andrew to support you as this could be very nasty."

The words Susie was hearing from Jennifer did not please her at all. In fact she was about to explode.

Susie tried to control her anger for as long as she could, then Jennifer said something that pushed her too far. Susie lost her cool completely.

"Oh, for shit's sake, Jennifer, wake up. Stop walking around in a teenager's dream world. This man loved you so much that it looks as though he gave his life trying to save a woman he thought was you. Look, I'm sorry but I don't have time to argue with someone so bloody stupid. He loves you Jennifer - he loves you!"

Red in the face Susie continued bellowing into the phone.

"He loves no one else... He loves YOU! What part of that don't you understand Jennifer? Bugger it Jennifer, I'm sorry I've no time to argue."

Calming a little, she continued.

"Come up here now or live the rest of your life with this on your conscience. Ring Joe. I refuse to argue with you anymore, and yes, I'm Susie - Peter's nominated next-of-kin, and my darling husband Bill is standing here beside me to take me to Peter's bedside - so think what you bloody will. Goodbye, Jennifer, I don't expect to speak with you again."

The phone call ended abruptly as Susie slammed the receiver down. Her words, "Silly bitch! What a bloody idiot she is!" said it all.

Bill helped her into a company car and they were soon weaving their way to the hospital following their police escort.

At the door of the intensive care unit, the doctor who was on his way out stopped Bill and told him that only Susie as next-of-kin could enter.

Bill told Susie that he'd wait in the car.

Patiently, Susie listened as the doctor explained what had happened, but a nurse hurrying in with an urgent message interrupted their conversation.

"Mrs. Williams, you're wanted on the phone. It's Melbourne."

"Hello, Susie Williams speaking. What? Repeat that slowly." Susie listened intently.

"Yes, I'm at the hospital and - slowly, Jennifer- stop crying please. I need to understand what you're telling me. Yes, I can be there at any time to pick you up and perhaps you'll be able to achieve a miracle. Now off you go - yes, I'll pick you up. When do you expect to arrive? By the time you arrive, I will have just made it to the airport through the traffic."

She listened again.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll recognize you - I know you very well. Just get on a plane and bring Andrew with you," Susie added as an afterthought. "What? You say he's out on business. Well, then, the two of us will brave this through together."

Susie returned to the doctor.

"He's alive but no one knows for how long." The doctor tried not to sound pessimistic as he resumed the conversation. "It's as though he's given up on life. We have him on life support and can keep him going for some days, but something has to be done to bring him out of this coma and make him 'want to live'. We've done everything possible to bring him around.

"The severe concussion, the gash down one side of his face that almost took the sight of his eye and the two broken ribs are not the problem - he's lucky that they were his main injuries. The explosion threw him and the body he was carrying about 50 yards."

Seeing Susie's querying look, the doctor continued.

"He came across the accident soon after it happened, and no-one could stop him from going to the wreck. The police reported he was screaming a name, 'Jennifer', as he rushed to the car and ripped its door off to rescue the driver. She was dead even before he commenced carrying her away from the burning car. He was lucky and only sustained minor burns - the overalls and welding gloves saved him."

He paused and then returned to his main concern.

"He spoke once when he arrived up here from casualty. 'Is Jennifer all right?' That is exactly what he asked the intern.

"The young fool doctor on duty told him the driver was dead and he muttered something about 'Jennifer, I love you, wait for me.' Then he lapsed into this coma. We can't arouse him.

"No matter how much we have done for Peter, at this stage we can't do anything further to bring him around. It's as though he's given up the will to live.

"His body - his injuries is not killing him - its his mind shutting his body down."

"Thank you, doctor. Keep him on life support. I'll give permission when you are to remove him from that support. I'm praying, though, that I may be able to prevent that ever happening. Later today, I have to collect someone from the airport, and then I'll be back with the person who, I pray, will bring some sense to this great oaf."

Quietly, for hours, she sat beside the body in the bed and held Peter's clammy hand. She was aghast at how pale and wan Peter looked, lying there hooked up to drips and machines. Although distressed by the sight of Peter all trussed up on drips, the steady blip, blip, blip of the heart monitor seemed to re-assure her.

The nurse on duty looked surprised when Susie suddenly looked at her watch and rushed away towards the lift. She could see Susie down the corridor, anxiously stalking back and forth outside the lift doors. To any passer-by, it was obvious she was waiting for transport down to the car park.

Susie collected Jennifer's car and slowly worked her way through the heavy traffic. Two hours later, she was at the airport, still waiting for Jennifer's arrival.

The arrivals' board showed all the Melbourne planes had landed, so by Susie's reckoning, the passengers should be out with their luggage any moment.

Pacing backwards and forwards Susie was apprehensive. She knew she would have a big task persuading Jennifer that her relationship with Peter was nothing more than that of a mother and son. 'Some mother I am,' but Susie's thoughts were interrupted as she caught sight of Jennifer.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 14



"Give me your luggage, Jennifer. Here are your keys. You're driving because I took the liberty of bringing your car across to pick you up."

"Peter? How's Peter? What happened? Tell me he's not dying. Please tell me what's happening."

Jennifer wasn't interested in anything but news of her love. Intently she listened while Susie explained her relationship with Peter. Jennifer found it difficult to comprehend how Susie came to be next-of-kin.

"Me? In love with Peter? Me - who's pregnant, thanks to Peter." Susie suddenly realized what she had said as the car almost ran off the road.

"No, that's wrong. I'm pregnant with my dear husband's baby - thanks to Peter. When Bill left the Navy, Peter managed to get him a position with the BMW Dealer next door to Peter's workshop. That meant we could support a child and give it a secure home -- a thing we couldn't do before."

"Now I have some home truths for you, Jennifer! I'm Peter's next-of-kin because of you and your 'someone special'. Peter was driving to Bathurst that fateful night and he was going to commit suicide, as he believed he'd lost you to that 'someone special'. He had death firmly fixed in his mind so I travelled with him to save him from himself.

"As a mother would hold a child, I held him close to me on that Saturday night, when the drugs he'd used to assist him to drive those long hours made him hallucinate. I compelled him to look at the 'someone special' problem another way, and I drove back with him in that loaded truck to keep him safe by prattling incessantly just to keep his mind away from his 'so-called' problems.

"Believe me - I think I almost went mad with the noise and the heat of that trip. Not something I want to repeat."

Jennifer pulled into a service station and turned to Susie.

"Are you telling me you and Peter are not lovers? Are you really trying to make me believe that Peter means nothing to you?"

Laughing, Susie patted Jennifer's hand as it clutched the steering wheel.

"My dear, Peter means a great deal to me as a very good friend and 'adopted son'. However, Jennifer, he has eyes and heart only for you. I mean nothing to him as a lover, although I regard him with a great amount of 'motherly affection' especially as he saved me from a rape. He's always been a most considerate gentleman with me."

She turned to Jennifer and looked at her with a direct gaze.

"You, my girl, are the luckiest person I know -- that is, if you do the right thing today and bring him back to a state where he wants to live."

Jennifer leant across and kissed Susie on the cheek.

"Thank you, Susie. Thank you. I was in a hell of my own making and now you've dragged me out."

Susie smiled. "Get this car moving. We have a lot to do yet."

Arriving at the hospital, Susie walked with Jennifer to the Intensive Care Unit and introduced her to the nurses. Knowing Peter's recovery was completely dependent upon Jennifer, Susie gave her a hug as she pushed her toward the door and turned to leave. 

"Ring me if you need me. I'm sure you are exactly the medicine he needs. We will all be praying for your success."

In the peace of the Intensive Care Ward, Peter remained comatose. His mind was a bottomless well where he lay immersed in a velvety darkness. It was peaceful lying there, so warm and comfortable. Through the gloom, he could see his mother and father reaching out to him.

Cutting across his thoughts came the words "He's alive but we can't bring him around." A woman's voice carried an authority, which Peter couldn't place. "We've done everything possible, yet we can't get him out of his coma."

Peter's thoughts wandered. That woman was talking about someone and he wondered whom. Why was that woman talking and who was she? He wanted her to just go away and leave him lie there. The black mist was so pleasant and secure.

"We had trouble identifying him. His wallet was burnt in the heat of the explosion." That same voice rambled on.

Peter was not interested in her conversation. He heard a soft sob.

"There, there."

If that damn woman doesn't stop talking I will scream. Peter was aware of this thought making its way into his semi-consciousness, through the peace and quiet he longed for in his blackness.

"Were you close?"

"We were, but we had an argument when I got jealous over nothing."

Peter knew that voice. Where had he heard that strange hoarseness before? Yet the voice was hard to identify, as the sounds seemed to be interspersed with tears.

"Well, he's been lying there like that for over a week now."

Peter just lay there, comatose, unthinking and secure in his darkness. 

This woman certainly could talk. She seemed to know everything about that 'he'. "It was as if he gave up, knowing no-one cared."

"I care."

That soft almost hoarse voice - Peter knew it well. But where had he heard it?

"Funny thing, the young woman he rescued was not called Jennifer and was already dead when he pulled her clear of the explosion." The words carried a ring of authority.

A very pungent smell of antiseptic assailed Peter's nose as a cold hand felt his forehead.

"Such a pity and so young too. Extreme shock can cause this traumatic reaction. All we can do is pray that the end will be quick and painless as we wait."

Suddenly Peter realized that the woman was talking about him. He was the person she was discussing. His mind rebelled, wanting her to go away leaving him alone. He knew he was safe in that black mist with no more fighting, no more worries, no more struggles. The pungent smell faded and he relaxed into the silence.

As he drifted once more into darkness, the sweetest perfume possible invaded his senses. Soft wisps of hair lightly brushed across Peter's forehead and his eyelids could feel warm breath. Then two drops of water splashed onto his cheek. Strange! How could it be raining in his safe dark tunnel? Lips lightly brushed his and Peter sensed he could taste Jennifer.

Moving to sit on a chair at the side of his bed, Jennifer buried her head in his hand.

No one disturbed them and she drifted off to sleep.

Waking early the next morning she was unable to lift her head.

"Nurse! Nurse! Come quickly." Jennifer sounded distraught. "He moved."

Peter groaned as he slept.

"Open those fingers." Someone, ordering Peter about, was trying to force his fingers open.

"Open your fingers, I can't move." A hoarse voice he recognized broke through his darkness.

Peter moaned. His eyes gradually flickered open and he looked down at his hand. Jennifer's head was on the edge of the bed and his fingers tightly gripped her hair. Relaxing his fingers, he waited.

Slowly, she lifted her head and those beautiful green eyes came close to study him. Then gently, as if she didn't dare touch him, she moved her hand to his face where it lay cradling his cheek.

"Hello," she whispered. "I waited for you."

Peter tried to sit up but his body screamed its agony at the effort. Jennifer held his shoulders down.

"Lie still!"

"Where am I?" Peter was confused.

"You're in Royal North Shore Hospital - Intensive Care Unit." Jennifer's answer was deliberate.

"What the hell happened?"

"Well," Jennifer paused, uncertain whether to tell the full story.

"There was a car smash. When you arrived at the scene, you fought people who were trying to keep you from the burning wreckage. They said you went berserk screaming 'Jennifer' and that you tore the door off the car using just your hands. You carried the woman's body clear just as the car exploded."

Gently, Jennifer kissed Peter's cheek.

"Believing you were saving me, you almost died, Peter. Moreover, all the time I was being so damn silly. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Forgive you for what?" Peter whispered.

"For doubting you with Susie." Jennifer smiled at his look of shock. "Yes, Susie and I have talked. It was Susie who got me to understand how much you needed me here and we've talked about everything. As you said earlier, she is a very good friend to both of us."

"How long have I been here?" Desperately Peter tried to change the topic of conversation.

"Well, I arrived yesterday afternoon, and you held my hair all night as you slept. Today is your eighth day here."

"Eight days." Peter was almost shouting. "I've been lying here eight days?" Forgetting his injuries, he tried to push himself upright. The sudden heat of the pain in his chest and the blackness threatening to overcome him defeated him as reluctantly he faced the extent of his injuries.

"Lie still, Peter, lie still," Jennifer took both his hands in hers. "Please lie still for me. You've been injured but you'll recover."

"You behave, Mr. O'Brien." The nurse's smile softened her comment as she arrived with the doctor. After examining Peter, the doctor signed the release papers from Intensive Care.

The nurse busied herself removing all the drips and monitors in spite of Peter's complaints.

"You've caused enough trouble as it is. Lie still or I'll call the doctor back.

"We need this bed for a sick person, so off you go. Now you're conscious I'm to take you to Ward 6. This lady has woven her magic and you won't be there long either."

The nurse and an orderly pushed his bed down the long corridor into Ward 6.

"Here's Mr. Trouble himself," called the nurse to the Ward Sister as she locked his bed into place. "If he's not in here with gunshot wounds after an attempted hijack, he's in here after trying to rescue a young woman from a burning car. I was thinking he had an inbuilt death wish, but now I see him with his young lady I've had to change my mind."

"Take care of yourself and listen to Jennifer. She's boss." Laughing, she returned to the Intensive Care Unit.

The stern face of the Ward Sister cracked into a smile. Grinning, she asked, "What would you like to eat?"

In reply, Peter slowly brought Jennifer's hands to his lips. Staring into Jennifer's eyes, he stated clearly, "Her!"

The Sister giggled and Jennifer, no more the embarrassed, insecure woman, looked pleased.

"Good heavens, you've been in a coma for over a week and the first thing you want to do when you come around is attack this young lady. Behave yourself and I'll ask the doctor if Miss Blake's on the menu. Now if you promise to behave, I'll let you shave. You look like a pirate with that growth."

With no warning, she ripped the plaster from Peter's cheek. Ignoring his agonized bellow, she examined the wound.

"That's healing well. You're lucky that's the only reminder you'll have of your adventure once your ribs are healed."

As she left, the Sister called back to him.

"I'll send the policeman in. He's been waiting to interview you for some time."

Jennifer sat at the end of Peter's bed listening carefully as the story of no sleep, pep pills and Peter's version of the accident unfolded.

"No-one could understand why you threw yourself into that fire." The heavily built officer was still not satisfied.

Peter beckoned Jennifer until she stood close enough for him to reach. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he explained.

"I thought the green Mini was Jennifer's and that she was the driver."

Jennifer bent and lightly kissed his scarred cheek.

"I see." Grinning broadly, the sergeant picked up his cap. He patted Jennifer on the shoulder and kindly added, "I'd have done the same."

He coughed and became serious once more.

"However, get this straight. You're to have no more nights without sleep, and no more pills. You were an accident waiting to happen, on those damn things. Your mind had gone. The car wasn't green and it wasn't a Mini. No more working day and night for you. Don't go without sleep, and no more pills."

"I'll make certain of that." Jennifer was very confident.

The officer started to leave the ward when suddenly he stopped, turned and strode back to the bed. Ignoring Jennifer, he resumed his questioning.

"I don't suppose you'd care to explain the scars on your back. You seem to have been brutally beaten - scars upon scars."

Oblivious of the look in Peter's eyes and the grim way he held himself, the officer continued.

"You really are a mystery. We contacted Interpol about you and the scars on your back and received messages from Malaysia and Singapore virtually warning us to mind our own business. Seems you're actually a hero in both countries, but I sure would like to know the story. Even our own security essentially told us to mind our own business. Strange!"

Peter's grim look and the tightness of his lips told the officer he would get no information from him.

As he left, still perplexed and shaking his head, the officer passed the doctor striding into the ward.

"Is there anything else constable?" The doctor asked as they passed.

"No, thanks. All finished. Look after him, Miss Blake. He's a menace to himself." His laughter followed him as he left.

The doctor removed Peter's charts from the end of the bed and studied them carefully before giving Peter a thorough physical examination. He prodded, pressed and finally scanned Peter's eyes. He straightened up with a satisfied sigh.

"We had a dying man in this bed. There was not a thing medical science could do to stop the inevitable, and then this young lady arrived and God arrived with her."

Jennifer introduced herself.

"It isn't often we can say a miracle occurs in a hospital ward and I'm so pleased I have witnessed this one. To say I'm astounded at your recovery is an understatement. All week we had a dying man on life support. This young lady arrives and we have a man with two broken ribs and a scar. But those ribs will soon mend."

The doctor was both perplexed and pleased.

"When can I leave?" Peter looked up at Jennifer while he squeezed her hand. "Hospital is for sick people."

Shaking herself free of Peter's grip, Jennifer walked with the doctor to the doorway where they whispered together for a few minutes. The doctor shook his head but Jennifer was insistent. Her body had stiffened and Peter knew her eyes were flashing.

"Well, I suppose you're right. There's not a thing we can do except observe. Are you sure?" The doctor's voice grew louder.

Jennifer nodded her head vigorously.

All smiles, the doctor returned to the bedside.

"If you can prove in the morning that you can walk unassisted I'll discharge you into Miss Blake's care. You're not to return to work for at least a month. You're to have plenty of rest, good food and ample sleep at the correct hours. Miss Blake tells me she will be in charge of you. You are to listen to her and follow her orders. If you feel dizzy, return here straight away."

He meandered on with some more instructions.

Still shaking his head in disbelief, he concluded. "I suppose as Miss Blake brought about this change in you, she can't go wrong. We could do nothing but she became Florence Nightingale."

Still unable to believe the dramatic change in his patient, the doctor left.

A commotion in the corridor gained their attention and the doors swung open. Susie had arrived. She rushed to Jennifer and gave her a huge hug.

"I tried to stay away but I was like a caged lion at the office. Bill drove me back here to see what has been happening."

She looked across at Peter, her face all smiles.

"I knew it. I just knew it! You would make him want to live. That great bear loves you so much he won't let you go, ever." Susie's effervescent good humor made them both smile.

Jennifer grinned, "I do believe you're right. Now, are you going to tell him or shall I?"

Susie looked perplexed.

Laughing, Jennifer didn't wait for Susie's answer.

"Peter, did you know that you're responsible for Susie's pregnancy. Susie is going to have a baby, thanks to you."

Peter didn't flinch as he assumed the face of the inscrutable East.

"Well, it's an immaculate conception, because in no way am I responsible. Susie, tell the truth. How am I responsible?"

The smile on Susie's face lit the room, and she bent to kiss first Jennifer, then Peter.

"Well, you secured Bill's employment at the BMW Dealer. That gave me the opportunity to have children - something that up until now has been out of our reach. With Bill in the navy, I wasn't prepared to raise a child by myself so we waited. Now, both Bill and I are so very grateful."

Jennifer wasn't the least jealous as she and Susie sat on opposite sides of the bed, holding Peter's hands as they chatted. She realized how silly her jealousy had been. Peter had eyes only for her and it was soon obvious he didn't want to share her with Susie.

Susie noticed as well, and almost dragged Jennifer to the door as she was leaving. She took Jennifer's hands in her own and held them tightly.

"Take damn good care of him. You hold his life in your hands as always."

A quick kiss on Jennifer's cheek and she was gone.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 15



Peter didn't have to tell Jennifer the drive from the hospital to his apartment tired him. She watched him creep from the car to the elevator holding his body stiffly, fighting the pain in his chest.

In the third bedroom, Jennifer dragged the twin beds together.

"A shower will make you feel better. Then, get into bed," she reassured him.

Gently, she tugged him to the bathroom. "Do you need help?"

Peter was too tired and too sore to make a comment. After showering, he studied his face in the bathroom mirror. He saw the scar running from his left eye past the corner of his mouth. It was an ugly, red, barely healed, crescent moon and made shaving difficult. He didn't like the scar but he could do nothing about it.

He snarled at the gaunt, battered face staring back from the mirror.

"What's the matter?" Without bothering to knock, Jennifer rushed in looking anxious.

"This scar looks as though I've been in a duel. I must get it removed."

"You'll do nothing of the kind. That's my scar." Standing on tiptoe Jennifer stretched up to kiss it lightly. "That's mine. You got that believing you were rescuing me. It stays."

She put Peter to bed.

That night Jennifer appeared in a pair of her own pajamas and, declining his offer to share his bed, she slipped into the other bed and reached across to hold his hand.

"A girl wouldn't be safe in your bed," she smiled knowingly.

During the following days, Peter enjoyed lying back in bed having Jennifer fuss over him. When he felt comfortable sitting, they sat together on the balcony holding hands and watching the comings and goings on the harbor.

All the while, she remained so particular - demanding he eat a little, slowly and often - yet somehow she always knew when he was drowsy and she'd lie beside him until he slept. When he awoke, she was ready with something to tempt his appetite. Peter knew he was getting stronger when he was no longer hungry for anything but her.

Then one morning as he lay in bed, Jennifer, definitely the boss, brought him back to the present.

"Make yourself decent, you have visitors."

Although it was very early morning, Peter believed he must have been dozing, as he hadn't heard anyone arrive.

"Come on. Sit up!" As Jennifer fluffed the pillows behind his head, she didn't struggle as Peter grabbed her and rolled her over on the bed with him.

"That's unfair!" She smiled up at Peter. "Let me up. I might hurt your ribs."

"By the look in his eyes you'd better break the rest of his ribs and," Bob was chuckling, "both his arms."

As Jennifer struggled to untangle herself from Peter's arms Bob strolled across to the bed, closely followed by Ted.

Jennifer sat up and pushed her hair back from her face.

"I'll get us all a drink."

"Make mine a beer." Ted was quick to place his order.

"You'll have an ice cold fruit juice and like it." Jennifer called back from the kitchen. She was relaxed and comfortable, even with Peter's two friends.

"Well, well." Ted examined Peter's scar. "You don't do things by halves do you? Missing for the week, then a phone call from Joe. We drove to the hospital where the Sister in charge threw us out. She told us next-of-kin only.

"Of course, we were as welcome as pigs in a synagogue so all we could do was go home and wait. Next, we get a phone call from your girl here and one from Susie to say you're home."

Ted patted Jennifer as she handed him his drink then sat on the bed close to Peter.

Noticing Ted's attentions did not offend her, Peter caught her quick smile as if to say, 'Men! They can't keep their hands to themselves. Don't worry, I'm yours and they know it.'

"Don't know what Jennifer's done to you." Bob pointedly stared at the twin beds pulled close together. "Must be magic. Must try some myself."

"Doctor's orders, Bob." Peter reached out to tug Jennifer closer. "My medicine is for me only."

"When are you going back to work?" Good old Ted, the bean counter, was always thinking about profits but Peter was not interested in returning to toil back at the workshop just yet.

"He's returning to work when I say so!" Jennifer interjected firmly. "Not a minute before. It certainly won't be earlier than the New Year."

"But that's over three months away and the work is pouring in." Ted's words died, cut short by the ferocious glare that flashed across Jennifer's face.

"Peter's coming home with me." It was obvious Jennifer wouldn't argue. "Mum will make certain he's fit, rested and well fed before he returns to work."

"Well, Peter, explain what happened." Ted was anxious to change the topic.

"All I know is that I tried to rescue a woman from a burning car. I was knocked unconscious and woke with my fingers in Jennifer's hair."

Jennifer began her story.

"Oh yes, I got a phone call, but I don't know how she got my number." As Jennifer continued, Bob just shrugged innocently. "She talked for such a long time. When I hung up, she even rang back."

"Who for heaven's sake? Who?" Ted was still uncertain.

Grinning, Jennifer patted Peter's hand.

"My best friend and Peter's adopted mother, Susie Williams. She ordered me to Peter's bedside as he was on life support. I thought it was all a conspiracy until I saw him lying there so still and almost lifeless."

Jennifer smiled broadly. Grinning at Peter she continued, "You were supposed to be in a coma and almost on the point of dying. What rot! You fooled everyone - you were only waiting."

"How did you reach that conclusion?" Suddenly Bob was interested.

"Well, the moment my lips touched his," Jennifer reddened from her hair to her finger nails, "this beast flicked his tongue across my lips." She wasn't used to putting such ideas into a conversation.

"Oh my God." Ted rolled his eyes in mock modesty and roared with laughter. "It's a wonder the filthy beast didn't try to drag you into his hospital bed. You know he's an insatiable sex maniac."

"To be truthful, I think that was his intention but he just slept. I ended up falling asleep with my head on the bed and the nurse had to pry his fingers out of my hair."

"I wasn't going to let her go." Peter grinned at his friends.

"Don't blame you. You're a lucky man." Bob had lost that 'win some, lose some' attitude. He sounded almost wistful, as though he recognized their deep feelings for each another.

Listening to the banter between his friends, Peter realized how much he depended on each one. He was enjoying his rest and recuperation.

Suddenly the realization that he may not be at work for the next three months forced him to comprehend that he had to make some arrangements with Ted. He knew he could no longer hide behind the façade of being almost an Alice in Wonderland when it came to business. If he continued his pretence of being weak and unable to gauge people's motives he would gain nothing and instead, stood to lose a lot. From the depths of his mind came the acceptance that he could no longer conceal his competence.

The time had arrived to reveal he was stronger in business acumen than his friends suspected. He had to abandon that veneer he had hidden behind.

Grinning at the thought of how he would shock Ted, he looked at his friends.

"Now, everyone out except Ted! I have some business to discuss with him." Peter was suddenly serious.

As Ted sat on the edge of the bed and the door closed, leaving them alone, the two men discussed the forthcoming bonuses to be paid. Ted was noticeably surprised at the size of the bonuses, especially the generous bonus for Joe.

He was even more astounded when told to pay five thousand dollars to both Bill and Susie as something special in the way of a Christmas present to them both, especially as they would soon be parents.

To alleviate Ted's concern, systematically and patiently Peter took him through the full implications of his wealth and his business empire. By the time Peter had completed his explanation, Ted was astounded.

"But I thought you are - "

Quickly Peter interrupted, "You thought what I wanted you to think. However, this little fracas has made me realize I have to allow you into my business affairs. I can no longer put out a smokescreen of weakness and lack of education. You look shocked but there are more revelations to come. Alongside the workshop is the BMW Dealership, which I own."

Ignoring Ted's reaction, Peter continued blithely.

"I am the major shareholder in your company and, by some strange co-incidence the major shareholder in the insurance company employing Jennifer.

"In fact I am a billionaire. However, all this news is confidential. I'm sure I can trust your integrity."

Ted could only stare at Peter and nod.

"Now, thanks to your suggestion, I also own the motel down the road. Between the motel and the BMW Dealership is a Lexus dealership, which hasn't been doing too well. I had heard the owner wants out, so buy it at the lowest price possible. I want to own all the businesses facing the main road because I have plans - big plans."

Still in shock, Ted could only wipe his glasses as he stared at Peter.

"As you'll be paying cash, the price will be especially low. I will be arranging to pay two hundred million into the shop account and you will have authority to spend."

Peter couldn't help teasing Ted, who had turned white at the huge amount Peter blithely mentioned as though it was just coins in a piggy bank. He continued, "Just give me your passport and don't try to flee the country."

Ted could only grin and gulp helplessly.

"Now, your thoughts. Would Bob be better at managing the Lexus dealership or the motel?"

He could no longer contain himself and chortled at the amazed look on Ted's face.

Unable to curb his curiosity any further, Ted demanded to know the origin of all this money.

"Where the money comes from is no-one's business but mine. It's legal and all taxes are paid. It's international money and the overseers are extremely tough and brutal. They would make Shylock and his demand for a pound of flesh look like an atheist at a Sunday School Picnic, so keep your nose clean!"

"Which should Bob manage?" He repeated the question to Ted.

After careful consideration Ted could only stammer, "The Lexus dealership. You couldn't let Bob anywhere near the motel. He would believe it was a carte blanche to all the bedrooms!"

"Right," Peter ignored the comment about Bob's wild escapades.

"Immediately start head-hunting Bob and then approach Susie about managing the Motel and don't take 'No!' for an answer. They are my friends and this affair has made me realize how much I depend on all of you.

"Inform Susie she is to keep the Italian chef as manager of the motel restaurant at an increased wage. Tell her that Joe and Maria will be constant guests.

"Now let's look at your needs, my friend. When you return to work, you will find your new office on the top floor. Your position will be CEO."

Peter could only grin as Ted stuttered and stammered, unable to make any sensible sounds even when Peter added, "You will never be poor on your new salary."

"By the way... in your spare time..." Peter couldn't restrain the tease as his eyes sparkled in merriment.

Ted, wondering what else was coming, could only gasp in amazement.

"Purchase the houses at the rear of all the businesses facing the main road so I own the whole block." Peter continued.

"Offer a fair price (market value plus twenty five percent). Once that's done you are to organize the construction of a child-minding center and a Pre-School. Allow plenty of room for parking. All are to have first class amenities and not a penny is to be spared."

Ted could only nod in agreement.

Waiting for questions, Peter stared at Ted.

None came. Ted was in a state of shock.

Eventually their discussion finished and they finalized the arrangements. A full two hours had passed where they both got down to the fine details and Ted had somewhat recovered his equilibrium.

Peter called Jennifer and Bob to rejoin them. They returned to the bedroom with a glass of wine in one hand and a piece of cheese on a cracker in the other, laughing and joking about the fact that Ted and Peter had been in the bedroom for two hours with the door closed.

"Did you two have fun?" Bob passed a cheeky comment.

Lying back on his pillows, Peter tried to look very sick as he reached for Jennifer.

"I need some more medication, Nurse."

Waggling a finger at him, Jennifer leapt away.

"Oh, no you don't. You caught me once - you can't catch me again. You're not going to fool me that way."

Pushing the others out of the room she added, "Peter's getting up now. We're flying to Melbourne this afternoon and he's spending Christmas with my family." She grinned at their surprise.

Ted and Bob didn't remonstrate. With a wave, they walked to the door. There were no cheeky comments this time.

Watching from the bed, Peter looked surprised at the warmth of their feelings as they hugged Jennifer and kissed her on the cheek while she saw them out the door. Obviously, they were pleased with the latest developments.

Alone at last with Jennifer, Peter tried to entice her to cuddle him.

"Now stop that, you're supposed to be convalescing - not behaving like some sex crazed ape. Get into that bathroom. Shower, shave and do your best to make yourself look respectable. You're dining with my family tonight."

Jennifer was still the nurse.

In the bathroom, Peter found it difficult to look in the mirror. That scar! He'd never considered he was handsome but now, meeting her parents, he knew he'd find it difficult to look his best. Still, he'd make an effort just for Jennifer.

"Hurry up, I want to shower too." Jennifer beat on the door.

"We could save water. Come on," Peter chuckled.

"No way! We'd never get to Melbourne. Besides," her giggle was clear even through the bathroom door, "I'd wear you out before I'd paid you off."

It seemed only a few minutes had passed when they were on the plane.

On the flight, Peter had no time to worry about the forthcoming meeting as Jennifer flirted outrageously with him. Fluttering her eyelids, touching and sneaking quick kisses on his cheek, Jennifer was obviously demanding his attention, not allowing him to think of her parents and the quickly approaching meeting.

Eventually, arm in arm and so totally involved in each other as to be blissfully unaware of the world around them, they disembarked. They waited hand in hand for their luggage before making their way out of the terminal.

As the sliding doors opened and they found themselves outside in the glare of the afternoon sunlight, Peter felt a strong hand grip his arm and heard a warm chuckle next to him.

"Unhand that girl, young fellow. That's my daughter."

Shrieking, "Dad!" Jennifer threw her arms around her father's neck while Peter stood watching silently. Suddenly he was shy, a trait he thought he had conquered long ago.

"Steady on, steady on." Jennifer's father pretended to push her away.

"So this is the young man who was shot in an attempted truck hijack and who rips cars apart with his bare hands trying to rescue my phantom daughter. This young man caused all the worry! My word, he is a handsome fellow."

Jennifer took Peter's hand and quietly introduced him.

"Dad, this is Peter."

Peter didn't know what to say.

"Cat got your tongue, eh lad?" Jennifer's father was kind. "Or are you the strong, silent type?"

His smiling, steely-grey eyes made Peter feel welcome and his features were weather worn from a lifetime of toil in the sun, but there was also a soft air of kindness about him. One calloused hand swept his hat from his head, wiping his tousled brown locks from his eyes while the other shook Peter's hand in a grip that made Peter wince.

"Call me Dad or Eric, whichever you like. I don't mind."

Trundling the luggage cart before him, he led the way to a truck labeled 'Blake Pastoral Company'.

"Dad, you brought the truck! Whatever will Peter think?" Jennifer showed her embarrassment.

Smiling Eric turned to Peter. "I brought the truck as it takes three across the seat and I need all the space in the back for Jennifer's luggage.

"No point in bringing a car. Knowing Jennifer's actions over the past few months, I didn't think she would let go of you to allow you to sit in the front of a car with me!

"Dinner will be ready when we get home." Then he began to chuckle. "Your mother will be jealous, Jennifer. Peter is so handsome."

With the city behind them, Eric drove off the bitumen highway onto gravel roads, leaving billowing clouds of dust behind.

The drive was long but certainly not boring. Peter had forgotten the pain in his ribs as Jennifer and her father drew him into their incessant chatter and laughter, doing everything possible to make him feel part of the conversation.

Peter took notice of his surroundings. He noted that they had passed a pine forest. Next, he noted that a white post and rail fence had started. Obviously, it was for decoration and standing back from it was an electric fence. It seemed to stretch endlessly over the hill and he was about to comment when at last they turned off the road and carefully crossed a cattle grid - the bars of steel on the road between the fences so vehicles could cross but not animals, eliminating the need for a gate.

Flanking the grid were two enormous stone walls and carved into the sandstone walls was the sign, Deep Springs. The Home of Blake Pastoral.

"Welcome to Deep Springs, Peter," were Eric's kind words. Then he added, "I had to build these grids everywhere. When Jennifer and Andrew were small they always left the gates open and I had to spend hours every day rounding up the sheep and cattle and returning them to the correct paddocks."

"Dad, you still tease." Jennifer's eyes were full of love for her father.

The road was not two wheel tracks in the clay but a well-formed and graded road. Arrow straight it led to the horizon. Two lines of huge paperbarks bordered it with a second border of red bottlebrushes gaily showing the way. Someone had been busy mowing the grass between the trees.

"You can see your Mum has had some of the men busy on the mowers, Jennifer. She is out to impress your handsome young man."

Ignoring Jennifer, Eric proudly pointed out the various landmarks of his property until they topped a steep hill and Peter could see, far below in the valley, a colonial mansion. Further in the distance were buildings that he took to be shearing sheds, shearers' quarters, workers' quarters, machinery sheds and silos.

Running through the center of the valley was a creek bordered by stands of she-oaks, peppercorns and weeping willows. Dogs were barking a joyous welcome in the distance and two came bounding up the road, howling their delight at being the first to greet them.

Eric ruffled Jennifer's hair. "You're almost as beautiful as your mother but I dare say you'll improve."

He drove up a curved red graveled driveway through well tended, well loved gardens and lawns before stopping at the marble steps leading to the grand, old, double-storied stone homestead with its slate roof and wide verandahs. The building shrieked of elegance and money.

"Come on, young fellow. Get the worst over quickly. Don't worry about Elizabeth." Eric leaned across Jennifer to grin at Peter. "She's a bit bossy. Worse than a mother hen with her chickens, so expect her to protect this little chick."

He patted Jennifer on the knee. "Leave the bags. Come on, or I'll get the blame for keeping you late."

As they clambered down from the truck, the huge, heavily carved oak front doors of the mansion suddenly burst open.

Jennifer's mother flew down the flight of wide white marble steps to greet them. At the bottom, she stopped and she stood quietly, smoothing her frock and patting her hair into place as Jennifer led Peter by the hand.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 15



"Mum, this is Peter."

Elizabeth was amused. "You're not going to let him out of your sight again, eh, Jennifer? You can let him go. If he runs, I'll send your brother and the dogs to round him up."

With a touch of amused respect, Peter waited while Jennifer dropped his hand. She'd been clinging to it tightly throughout the entire journey.

"He's not going to run away." Elizabeth could see that Peter was not only embarrassed but also intimidated by her.

Ignoring her proffered hand, Peter bent to kiss Elizabeth lightly on the cheek.

"Steady on," Eric chuckled, "First you beguile my daughter and now my wife."

He swept them into the house, ordering them ahead while Elizabeth questioned them about the trip and the Sydney weather. No one mentioned the accident.

The entrance, indeed the whole house called welcome and Peter immediately felt at home.

"Where's Andrew? Hasn't he returned yet?" Eric wanted his whole family to greet Peter.

A roar from deeper inside the house answered his question. "Where's that bloke who's worried my sister?"

Andrew thundered down the wide, thickly carpeted hallway into the richly tiled entrance foyer and Peter recoiled, still not strong enough to deal with the energy and enthusiasm of Jennifer's brother. He gripped Peter's hand with a strength that Peter vainly tried to return.

"I'm pleased you've arrived." He ignored Peter's surprise. "Now you're here, perhaps Sis can stop moping about the place and even smile occasionally."

"Ssh." Elizabeth interrupted. "Go and wash up.

"Jennifer, show Peter where his room is."

"No," Andrew objected. "Definitely not. Jennifer you stay here. If you go with Peter, you might never get back. I saw the two of you in Sydney."

"Andrew, stop teasing your sister. The older you get the worse you get. Peter, take no notice of him. Now, all of you go and clean up." Elizabeth was mothering them all as she gave them their orders.

"Come on Peter, I'll show you your room. The petticoat government around here is murderous. We'd better disappear while we can."

Andrew led the way, down long wide corridors and up a wide oak stairway into, finally, a bedroom where the gigantic high ceiling accentuated the luxury of the room with its huge bay windows. The four-poster double bed was just the final touch to the richly paneled room.

"You're honored. Mum is really out to impress you," he remarked as he tossed Peter's bags onto the bed. "You've time to freshen up. The bathroom is through that door."

Five minutes later, he was back.

"Come on. Mum will be furious if we're late." He laughed. "Well, she likes to believe she's the boss and we do everything to keep her happy. She's gone to great lengths to please you and she's worried that her cooking won't be as good as what you're accustomed to."

"What, steak and eggs?" Vainly, Peter tried to explain how basic was his day-to-day cooking, but obviously Andrew didn't believe him.

He watched the family carefully and bowed his head while Eric said grace. Peter added a silent prayer of thanks to his God for bringing him safely to this sanctuary.

The moment the family sat, Elizabeth uncovered the steaming soup tureens and Eric served. "I hope you like our plain food." Elizabeth began fussing over Peter but Eric winked at him, cutting her short.

"Leave the boy alone, Mother. Can't you see he's hungry? Besides, by his leanness, I guess it's a long time since anyone cooked for him."

Jennifer defended herself. "Hey I have been cooking for him since he left hospital and he hasn't stopped eating."

Ignoring her complaint and Andrew's hearty laugh, her father continued. "I know bachelors. Andrew and I almost starved the last time Elizabeth went away for a couple of days."

Peter was the honored guest. A pure white, fine damask cloth covered the rich mahogany table and the silverware was exquisitely delicate. Fine crystal glasses were at every place and he silently blessed Jennifer for her patient teaching of how to handle wine.

This was one time Peter didn't want to appear gauche.

As soon as Peter emptied the plate of food before him, another, equally heavily laden, took its place until he had to beg for mercy.

"The meal is delicious, but I have to stop before I burst. I just can't do it justice."

Dinner ended.

"Jennifer, give me a hand to clear up." Elizabeth was once more in control.

Peter couldn't remember having eaten so well. He could hardly move, and longed to lie down.

However, Elizabeth still wouldn't let the men rest. "You men go into the lounge room and make yourselves comfortable. We won't be long."

"I'll give a hand." Peter wasn't prepared to be alone with Jennifer's men folk. He wanted to be near her for protection.

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" Jennifer gave him a push as he stood. "You're resting remember? Besides, Mum and I want some peace so we can talk."

"Come on, Peter." Andrew led the way. "We know when we're not wanted."

The lounge room was a huge room and just as richly furnished as the dining room.

"Sit down and make yourself comfortable," Andrew said, indicating a comfortable settee.

Eric did his best to make Peter feel part of the family as he and Andrew sat back in their favorite chairs, close to the beautifully ornate fireplace of marble and sandstone. Gratefully, Peter sank into the heavily brocaded settee and stretched out his legs.

As an after-thought, Andrew dragged a heavily carved rocking chair close to their chairs and the family circle was almost complete. He and his father leant back, eyes closed in a shared silence. They were enjoying the pleasure that came from such a meal.

Thinking they were uncomfortable with him in the room, Peter stood to go out and join Jennifer.

Eric opened his eyes, his look as soft as his words. "Sit down, lad, sit down. We won't eat you, or didn't you notice how well fed we are?"

His whole face beamed with a smile that crinkled around his lips and eyes.

"We're all delighted that you're here. We're so much in your debt. Even Andrew is delighted, though he realizes his sister may disappear with you any time."

Desperately trying to change the topic, Peter admired the room. "This is a beautiful room. I know anything about furnishings and furniture, but it really is so elegant. It's as though we of the present have stepped into a most graceful past."

"Well, yes I suppose so." Eric looked about. "Elizabeth has taste and I know I indulge her. We'll get her to play for us when she arrives."

He waved in the direction of the grand piano standing in an alcove near the bay windows. "Perhaps she'll indulge us."

Giggling like teenagers, Jennifer and her mother swept into the room.

They were so alike. Elizabeth was a more mature Jennifer, fuller of figure and slightly shorter, but her eyes were also green. Their hair, so different in color, had the same waves. Their eyebrows had a similar softness, tilting up slightly at the ends and emphasizing their high, aristocratic cheekbones.

Elizabeth sat in the rocking chair while Jennifer flopped beside Peter. She gently lifted his arm around her and leant against him. With her hair against his cheek and her soft hand in his, Peter sneaked a kiss.

The family noticed his action.

"Cut that out! Stop it! Will you stop attacking my sister?" A rumble of mirth from Andrew heightened Peter's confusion. "Hey, Dad, protect your daughter. Make her sit over here!"

Smiling broadly, Andrew threw a cushion on the carpet at his father's feet.

"Stop teasing your sister." Elizabeth came to their defense. Obviously pleased by the interaction of her twins, her face glowed with happiness. "Leave your sister alone for once."

"But I'm only protecting her from this Sydney ruffian." Sounding hurt and very serious, Andrew added, "The first time I met him he was rolling around the floor with Sis. God only knows what he was trying to do with her."

Flying out of Peter's arms, Jennifer began battering her brother with a cushion.

"You're a brute. You haven't changed one bit."

Trying to grab her, Andrew retaliated, but as he rose to the attack, Jennifer shrieked and fled back to the protection of Peter's arms. With her arms around Peter, she buried her head in his lap like a little girl, believing she was safe.

"Can we have some music, Elizabeth? Perhaps it might calm these savages." Eric's laugh told us he was enjoying his children's game.

"I'm just too lazy to play tonight. Besides, I want to talk, so it will have to be background music." Elizabeth was queen in this house and they were all her minions. "You're the guest Peter, what would you like?"

Peter was speechless, wondering how to reply. He didn't know their taste in music and if they were like Ted and Bob his choice would just make them all groan.

Tentatively he began. "Well," he paused.

"You might be surprised at the range of our music, Peter." Elizabeth's tender look of acceptance gave Peter the confidence to continue.

"Well, if you have Mozart's aria, Non piu andrai..."

He stopped.

Andrew hissed through a groan, "Oh, my God. Not another one. Mum has a friend."

"Oh, good." Elizabeth swept to the far wall, which Peter believed was rich paneling of polished Australian Silky Oak. Part of the wall swung open to reveal extensive audio equipment.

"Elizabeth loves her music." Eric explained, and his eyes shone with adoration. "You've made a friend."

As Elizabeth walked to the equipment and bent to adjust the machine, again Peter marveled at the similarity between mother and daughter. Not only had Jennifer inherited her mother's striking features, highlighted by her auburn hair, but also she had the same graceful walk.

The opening bars sounded. As Peter listened to the familiar music, it reached deep into his soul and he began to stroke Jennifer's hair lightly, bending close to sing softly in her ear. "Now my days of philandering are over..." he began. As the music continued, he moved into Italian.

Jennifer sat up and softly kissed him. His mood, affected by Mozart's music, had affected her too.

A soft cough brought them back to the present. Elizabeth was watching them closely. "I knew music appealed but..." The quiet tinkle of her laughter told Peter of her feelings for her daughter.

"There, I told you she was misbehaving." Andrew tried to imply even more.

Jennifer curled her body into Peter's lap like a kitten.

"Your voice is well trained and your Italian is impeccable. We must talk later as you must have such a lot to tell us," remarked Elizabeth. She had overheard Peter's soft singing to Jennifer and with a change of heart led him to the piano. "I'm sure Jennifer can spare you for a few moments."

Her fingers lightly danced across the keys, bringing Chopin into the room. She patted the piano stool, insisting that Peter sit beside her. "Jennifer told me you have two favorite hymns. I'll sing the soprano and you assist me by singing baritone."

Peter glanced at Jennifer as if begging her to save him, but she just grinned at his beseeching look.

The opening bars of Cwm Rhondda rippled off the piano and Peter opened his chest and started, "Guide me, Oh Thou Great Jehovah," with Elizabeth's voice soaring above his. When the piano accompaniment ceased, Peter was away, deep in his mind. Ignoring the silence, he continued in Welsh.

The sound of polite clapping brought him back to reality and Elizabeth put her hands out to him, taking his hands between hers. "Jennifer said you were accomplished, but that really was something special. Thank you."

Peter shrugged, trying to explain, but Jennifer joined him and put her arms around his neck, determined to make her family realize the depth of their affection and demanding they accept Peter.

Looking up at her daughter, Elizabeth gave a secretive smile as she commenced playing a Strauss Waltz. It seemed natural for Peter to stand, to swing Jennifer into his arms and begin swaying to the music. Jennifer's eyes closed and she let her body melt into Peter.

He was floating in ecstasy until a deep voice broke into his thoughts.

"Mind if I cut in?"

Father and daughter began waltzing.

"Help me make the coffee." Andrew ordered Peter into the kitchen.

The evening was ending - an evening such as Peter had never experienced - a family evening of fun, warmth, laughter and love.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 16



Peter woke the next morning and lay still with eyes closed and his breathing rate unchanged. His years of jungle living could not be shaken off as he lay listening carefully to the sounds of gentle tapping at his door.

He heard the sounds of someone placing a tray on the bedside table and he knew by the soft footfalls a woman was standing beside his bed.

Knowing that Jennifer was in for a shock, he lay still as he grinned into his pillow and waited until she was in easy reach so he could grab her.

Repeatedly the woman tugged at Peter's arm but he lay still. When he was sure she was close, he shot his hand out towards her and made a grab, rolling over as he did so and pulling her on top of him, down onto the bed to share his pillow.

There was a loud shriek as he wrapped his arms around her.

Gasping through her laughter Elizabeth informed him, "I'm not Jennifer,"

That laugh brought goose bumps to Peter's skin. His eyes sprang open with horror. He was looking directly into a face close to his - not into Jennifer's eyes but instead into Elizabeth's, crinkled in amusement as she laughed at his discomfort.

Breathless, she tried to sit up a little. "So that's why Jennifer went off early to fetch the horses. She knew that she'd be running a risk coming in here." Elizabeth laughed as she struggled to her feet, straightening her dress and patting her hair back into place.

The grin on her face showed that she was forming her words for a message to the men on the tractors. Her eyes twinkled as she thought, 'Guess what! This old girl's still got it!'

Peter felt his confusion heightened by a wave of embarrassment sweeping over him.

Disregarding his stammering apologies, Elizabeth continued. "Sit up. I have breakfast for you."

While Peter ate, Elizabeth sat at the end of the bed prattling on about everyday farm trivia while keeping a motherly eye on his plate. She refilled his cup and fussed over him as though he were an invalid. When he finished, she was no longer able to contain her curiosity.

"Won't your family miss you? Jennifer says you'll be here until the New Year."

Peter answered in surprise. "I have no family, Mrs. Blake." He was sure that Jennifer would have explained his circumstances.

Smiling, she patted Peter's hand. "You can tell me a little about it when you're ready. And please call me Elizabeth."

As Peter felt the gentleness of her touch, he knew that now was the time to speak. His heart didn't sink and there were no tears as he informed her that his parents died in Malaysia while his father was serving in the RAAF.

He didn't reveal any details and as he spoke, he found an inner peace as he communicated with this gracious and understanding woman. He spoke rationally and there was no anger and no hurt.

Allowing him to talk freely, Elizabeth didn't pressure him for more information of his background. Satisfied with his revelation, she retuned to the kitchen with the empty plates.

Finally, Peter wandered downstairs along corridors trying to follow the sounds of voices. At last, he was on the verandah at the rear of the mansion.

Jennifer was holding the reins of two horses and talking with her mother. Her tan, form-hugging jodhpurs, tan riding boots and a delicate cream blouse were very stylish.

Behind her, some magpies were strutting around completely oblivious of the two black and white male huskies that growled warningly at Peter.

"Ignore them," was Elizabeth's advice. As she talked, she continued feeding pieces of meat to the two kookaburras on the verandah rail.

The kookaburras banged the meat on the rail as part of their ritual to kill their prey then swallowed it. The meat gone they looked inquisitively up at Elizabeth with the unspoken request for more.

"The pups are jealous of you as they consider their job is to protect Jennifer and me. You're also a stranger."

"Pups? My god, I don't want to tangle with them, when they are fully grown." Peter was quick to reply.

"They're two house pups, the latest acquisitions to my children's menagerie and the birds are part of the wild, free-flying 'aviary' they have developed over the years. I think every free-loader for miles around comes here for a meal."

"Even this Sydney-sider eh?" After the episode in the bedroom, Peter tried to relieve the tension. "That was a wonderful meal last night and this free-loader is in no hurry to leave."

Jennifer's laughter at her Mother's confusion brought the birds to an attentive standstill. The magpies and kookaburras seemed uncertain, trying to decide whether they should laugh or carol with her.

Ignoring his quip, Elizabeth continued, "Heaven help any of the work dogs that try to come into the yard. This is the pups' territory." Then noticing a large black cat stalking the pups she laughed. "That's when Smooch allows them any peace."

Peter knelt and held out a hand very low to the ground. The pups tried to ignore his friendly overture but it was too much for them and they approached to get their chests rubbed.

As Peter stood and walked towards Jennifer, they walked beside him still uncertain whether to accept him as their friend.

Jennifer backed away still turned towards him, keeping the horses between them. "I'm so worried," she exclaimed. "You must still be suffering from the explosion. You need your eyes tested. You can't tell the difference between Mum and me."

Her twinkling eyes and laughter showed her enjoyment of Peter's embarrassment.

"Come on. I'm about to show you around the property. Your horse is quiet and the saddlebags are full so you won't be uncomfortable or starving this morning. We'll walk the horses so your ribs won't cause you any pain."

Jennifer had barely ceased speaking when Peter took the reins and adjusted the stirrups as though he was born to the saddle. With absolute disregard for the twinges of the pain in his ribs, he swung himself onto the horse.

Elizabeth could only grin as she observed Jennifer's dismay at Peter's ability, obviously born of much practice.

"Come on slow coach! Race you to the shearing sheds!" Peter didn't wait for Jennifer to mount up but was off in a cloud of dust. The quiet horse showed a speed that Jennifer had never known.

Eventually, he waited for her to catch up.

"You're definitely a big bugger -- the worst kind. I get you the quietest horse I can, thinking you would be horrified at riding a horse, but what happens? You ignore the pain. You're in the saddle and off before I can even get my foot in the stirrup."

Slowly, with Jennifer as guide, they toured the shearer's quarters, stockmen's housing, shearing shed, sheep yards, machinery sheds, smoke house and barns. She led him to a distant paddock where two tractors were at work cutting alfalfa. The horses were tethered and Jennifer unpacked the saddlebags to lay out a meal of sandwiches, iced water and fruit.

Peter tried to grab her but she easily evaded him with a teasing comment.

"You just behave yourself. Mum told me how you pounced in your bedroom this morning. You're a sex fiend I think. If I'm not around you pounce on my mother. Poor Mum. You'd better start running before Dad finds out."

The arrival of the tractors interrupted further conversation between them. There was the squawk of a two-way radio from one of the tractors and Peter heard a distorted voice saying the lunches would be there soon if they hadn't already arrived.

Jennifer's men-folk had come for their meal.

Peter could only marvel at the way the family had accepted him but Andrew quickly jolted him back to reality.

"Hey, Peter, this is Jennifer. The other woman is Elizabeth, Jennifer's mother. I'll have to purchase you some glasses before breakfast tomorrow."

Andrew knew. Eric knew.

Peter just wanted to disappear into the scrub.

Jennifer hurled herself at her brother and they rolled and wrestled on the rug until Eric intervened.

"Andrew behave! Jennifer sit with poor Peter. I think he wants to disappear, so hang onto him so he doesn't run away.

Eric's eyes twinkled in merriment as he asked if breakfast had been enjoyable. He was lying back with his head on his well-worn dusty hat as he began teasing Peter.

"Peter, we all know what happened this morning and have been laughing ever since. We have radios in the tractors and Elizabeth could hardly tell us what happened for giggling. I believe you brightened up her day immensely.

"I'd have given one hundred dollars to see the look on Elizabeth's face this morning and double that to see the look on yours, Peter," and he couldn't continue for laughing.

Then he paused and tried to control his laughter before continuing, "In fact, I think tomorrow you'll be on a tractor and I'll do the grabbing."

His belly laugh was so loud that a small mob of kangaroos lounging in the shade jumped to their feet and bounded away to safety. The dogs that had escorted the horses lay quietly, not deigning to give chase.

"I watched you coming across the paddock and you have a good seat. Not the first time you've been in the saddle. There's a lot of you to be explained and I'd bet a few quid you have an intriguing story to tell. Perhaps, later, when you've rested you might tell us the tale."

Peter looked skywards his head in Jennifer's lap as if asking for strength. Knowing this family had to know his complete life story, his thoughts raced. There could be neither omission nor concealment of any of the darker sides of his life.

His mind hammered the message that he had no option if he wanted to be part of this Blake family as Jennifer's husband. No matter how strong the chance of rejection would be, he knew this daunting task was his.

Both Eric and Elizabeth had asked enough questions to show their concern about the mystery of his background.

Unaware of Peter's anxieties, Jennifer re-packed the saddlebags and slowly led the way back home while her dad and brother returned to the tractors.

On their return, Jennifer watched Peter gingerly dismount and realized that he had over-taxed his body. "Now it's time you had a rest. I'll run a soothing hot bath for you to relax in and perhaps then you'll rest until dinner."

The next day Andrew caught up with Peter in the stables. He saw Peter walking very carefully down the far end, obviously making closer acquaintance with some of their work and equestrian horses.

"Grab a shovel and muck the horse-shit out," he called out. "You're not to laze around like that! Don't know what's got into you."

Peter just stared at him holding his sore ribs. "Bull-shit," he spluttered, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah. That too." Laughing, they strolled out into the sun.

Peter did nothing during the following days but rest. He found pleasure in Jennifer's company and in getting to know her family.

No one would allow him to lift a finger. Even Andrew was solicitous although his excuse, "If Jennifer saw you helping me work she'd be a wildcat," was delivered with a merry twinkle in his eye.

Each day confirmed Peter's decision not to leave the farm without the one thing he wanted since he first met Jennifer, but it was as though she knew of Peter's decision and wasn't going to make it easy for him, as he wasn't destined to see her alone.

Day crowded upon day and every time he found her, she was either strangely aloof or busily talking to her mother.

Feeling shut out and impatient with his idleness, Peter wandered into the machinery shed and found the engine of a bulldozer in pieces. He couldn't help himself and began opening the boxes of spare parts on the workbench. He went missing for hours as he gravitated more and more to the machinery shed where he tinkered with the engine.

Jennifer believed he was upstairs resting until one evening she met him as he was walking back from the shed and sniffed loudly. "What have you been up to this time Peter? You smell like a diesel engine. Where have you been? You told me you were resting."

With hands on hips, she barred his way demanding answers. "Don't touch me with those greasy hands. Go and get cleaned up then tell me what you have been doing."

Over the evening meal, Jennifer resumed her questioning and Peter had to beg Eric's forgiveness.

"Eric I've been bored lying around or being entertained for days on end. I wandered over to the machinery shed and saw a diesel motor there waiting to have parts fitted. It was too much for me and I just tinkered for a bit."

Eric and Andrew looked at each other and then back at Peter before Eric replied. "Peter that engine has been a beast ever since we bought it. It is forever breaking down because of oil starvation and overheating. I'm very grateful for your assistance but we did not bring you here to fix motors. Do you want Jennifer getting angry with me?"

"Jennifer won't be angry with you but I had better watch my back. I noticed that engine was an early version of the motor and the company always had those problems. However an easy and simple fix is to -" and the men discussed the motor and the modifications Peter had done as he rebuilt it. They forgot the women.

The next morning Eric's words, "We'll tell Jennifer Peter does not go back to Sydney. She is to keep him here. Thanks Peter, don't forget to give me the bill."

Peter's reply that there was no charge as it had kept him out of trouble was met with laughter from Andrew. "Yea I suppose it does stop you chasing the women around and around the house!"

"This is my work. Would you mind if I serviced all the machinery and engines on the property. I'd love to keep busy, else I will be chasing Andrew because he teases so much. If you agree, I'll give Andrew a list of all the parts and he can get them. That way he keeps out of all our hair."

Eric agreed as long as Peter did not over tax himself.

Jennifer made numerous quick trips to the machine shed to check up on Peter and often stood watching him as he worked. She loved how he concentrated on the job in hand often oblivious of her quiet presence.

Ignoring Jennifer's complaints and Elizabeth's murmurings Peter worked on the farm vehicles until he was satisfied they were running perfectly. He even found time to tend to the two small motor bikes, which obviously had belonged to Jennifer and Andrew. The twins hadn't ridden the bikes for many years but Peter made certain they were back in running order.

His work done, with all machines working satisfactorily, Peter took time to sit on a bale of hay in the machinery shed and think of the future.

That night, when the others left for bed, Peter led Andrew onto the moonlit back verandah.

"In the machinery shed I found two small motocross bikes, both Yamaha 75ccs," he said. "Were those yours and Jennifer's when you were little?"

Andrew Laughed. "You don't miss much do you? Well, yes, they were ours and we were the bane of Mum's existence as we only had one speed - flat out. Jennifer was worse than me and we always came home from the track covered in dust or mud."

"I thought as much," Peter mused. "When do you think you and I could sneak into Melbourne? We'll have to take the truck."

Andrew tried to question Peter further but he remained tight-lipped.

Very early Saturday morning - even before the sun rose - they were driving down the road to Melbourne. At Peter's feet was a bag containing Jennifer's jodhpurs and boots that he'd managed to smuggle into the cab without any questions from Andrew.

He'd planned his surprise trip to Melbourne carefully, leaving a note for Jennifer that said, 'Your naughty brother's kidnapped me. I'll be back for dinner tonight or maybe earlier if I can get Andrew away from the girls. The evening meal will be coming with us. I love you so much.

It was unsigned.

Arriving in Melbourne, Peter had to explain that they needed to find a motor cycle distributor.

When Andrew parked the truck, no one seemed surprised as the two graziers arrived, with their Akubra hats pushed back on their heads and wearing riding boots. They wandered into the showroom where the range of motor bikes was considerable.

Peter explained his plan and struggled to overcome Andrew's initial reluctance.

Eventually, realizing Peter was determined to carry out his plan, Andrew accepted Peter's explanation and was like a child in a candy store, excitedly trying to single out the best one for himself.

Hours seem to pass as they kicked tires and fitted helmets and boots until they made their final selection.

With a wide grin, the salesman wheeled three identical BMW 650 GS Dakar models to the front of the showroom.

Peter had been loath to put Jennifer on a bike of that power until Andrew flatly stated that she had always been a rev-head and would be offended if her bike was the least powerful of the group.

The salesman, who had been delighted to sell them three bikes, was amused when Peter produced Jennifer's riding boots and jodhpurs, demanding the same size in racing leathers, protection and boots. Peter chose two complete women's silver sets and three male sets in red.

Andrew ceased worrying about the costs and could only shake his head in disbelief as Peter dragged the salesman across to the motor scooters where he selected two identical Yamaha XP500 -- T - MAX models.

The five machines stood together and the haggling began. There was not much argument from the salesman once Peter put his credit card on the desk and the salesman had rung through for authorization. Peter spoke briefly into the phone and the business was finalized.

"We're going off for lunch. Have the lot insured and registered in the name of 'Blake Pastoral Company'- Andrew, here, will sign the insurance papers. Please load them onto the truck, with each set of leathers, gloves, body armor, boots and helmet wrapped attractively as a single present- and as these are very special gifts make an extra effort to make the parcels attractive. We'll be back in an hour. Remember - five machines, five parcels - we have to keep the women happy so we eat for another week."

Weakening at the thought of losing such a lucrative sale, the salesman only nodded as they left.

"Come on Andrew we have even more to do."

As they left the dealership, Peter noticed that Andrew still looked mystified.

"Andrew, stop looking so confused," he said. "Yes, the bikes are for Jennifer and for us. The scooters are for your parents. They'll want to ride with their children and, unless I'm much mistaken, they'll love it."

Noticing that Andrew was about to interject, Peter cut in.

"If you mention anything about the cost, I'll kick you. I've lived a very lonely and dangerous life," he went on. "Your family has accepted me into their lives with no questions asked. For that, I am so grateful that I can't do enough for them." He looked at Andrew. "Sorry if I am making a mouthful of this but there's a little more I want to add."

Pausing, Peter wondered if he'd said too much but decided to continue. "As you suspect, I love your sister and before I return to Sydney I intend asking her to marry me." Suddenly Peter sagged as the emotional impact of the idea smashed into his thoughts. Out of control, his voice faded into a whisper. Unable to say more, Peter looked down at his feet.

He felt the touch of Andrew's arm across his shoulders and drew in a breath. It gave him heart that perhaps Jennifer would accept him.

"Peter you didn't have to do this to show your gratitude," Andrew said in a more robust tone of voice. "Mum and Dad, not to mention Jennifer and me, are delighted you've come into our lives. Without you, I doubt if Jennifer would be alive now."

Thinking back to that infamous night Andrew shuddered. That movement told Peter he hadn't forgotten that night when he'd helped Peter drive off to his possible death.

"Jennifer loves you, have no doubt of that. We are identical twins, and I feel her feelings for you when you're with her. I can't say if the answer will be 'Yes.' That's for her to decide."




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 16



Peter smiled at Andrew as he hailed a taxi and just stated, "The closest Chinese café, please driver."

Remembering Peter's ability with Asian languages, Andrew wasn't surprised when Peter took charge once more and led him into the café. He tried not to show any reaction when Peter marched into the kitchen and began a lengthy guttural Cantonese conversation with the cook, who seemed to accept Peter without question.

The cook barked orders. While Peter and Andrew sat at their table and waited for their food, the kitchen hands carefully wrapped parcels of dishes, bowls and chopsticks in red paper, together with six dozen bottles of Tiger Beer.

As they ate, Andrew was immune to any further shocks when Peter suddenly left the table to use the telephone at the front desk. He could hear everything clearly but it was no help, as he didn't know the language at all. The only word he understood was 'Thursday'.

Full of food, they arrived back at the motor cycle distributor in a taxi loaded with red packages, pleased to discover that the salesman had loaded all five machines onto the truck and tied them down securely. In addition, Peter's other purchases lay on the counter - five parcels beautifully presented and ready to put in the cabin on the seat between them.

"I got my wife to do this special job," the salesman remarked proudly.

Gratefully they shook hands with the salesman and swung up into the truck - the cabin now containing Chinese food, Tiger beer and the five parcels.

The conversation on the trip home focused on their next problem.

"How will we do this? How will we get everything where they will all get a surprise?" Peter had run out of ideas.

"Well, I have a suggestion, for what it's worth." Andrew was enjoying the secrecy. "We'll drive in the back way, and quietly drive around to the front garden where we'll unload the bikes. You creep into the house while I put the parcels on everyone's bike.

"We should be there by three o'clock. Everyone will probably be in the kitchen for afternoon tea. Once you hear the truck's air horn, tell them to follow you."

With an almost evil grin, he licked his lips. He loved springing surprises just as much as Peter did.

"If you must," he continued, "Tell them I'm still in town as I bumped into some old girlfriends. When the riot's calmed down, bring them out the front and their bikes and parcels will be there. I'll be in my gear and Peter..." Andrew paused. "This is fantastic! I really can't say enough to thank you! You're generosity is unbelievable. Jennifer's so fortunate."

"No 'thank you' is necessary. Not a word Andrew." Peter spoke from his heart. "It's my thanks to each of you.

"By the way while everyone is changing could you get the food into the kitchen and put the beer in the fridge?"

It was an informal group gathered around the kitchen table when Peter walked in.

"Where's Andrew? I thought I heard the truck." Elizabeth seemed anxious.

"He's coming." Peter began to advance on Jennifer who, seeing the light in his eyes, yelped and hid behind her mother.

"Don't hide behind me." Elizabeth said, stepping out of the way. "I don't want to be grabbed. He's so like a huge bear."

"Oh no, he's off again." Eric joined in the fun

The air horns blew.

"Well, seeing I'm not allowed to play, I'll give orders. Come on everybody come with me now. I want to thank you for your consideration and kindness in accepting me as a guest here.

"No!" Peter stopped their protests. He knew everyone wanted to tell him that thanks was unnecessary. "Don't talk, just walk." With his arm around Jennifer's waist, he led the way.

As the family members walked onto the front verandah, they stopped in astonishment. They caught sight of what was on the drive -- the three bikes and two scooters with brightly colored parcels on four of the seats. Even more surprising was the appearance of Andrew, standing next to them in his leathers with his crash helmet under his arm, grinning at their reaction.

They were all astounded at the display and seemed to question in unison, "Peter, what have you done?"

"For heaven's sake tell me this isn't true." Jennifer was excited. "I know you're a surprising villain but this? This is..." She was speechless.

Peter led her to the bike he had chosen for her and watched as she opened her presents.

"Lad, what's all this? Why two motor scooters?" Eric queried.

Jennifer rushed off inside with her package and Peter knew she was about to change as he led Eric and Elizabeth to the scooters.

"These are for you. One to say sorry for grabbing you Elizabeth, and one to you Eric for being so gracious in accepting me as a guest. Not a word either of you - go and change. When you're back I expect you to be dressed like Andrew."

Too shocked at Peter's generosity to comment, Eric and Elizabeth took the two parcels and hastened into the house while Peter dashed behind a tree to put on his gear.

Jennifer was first to re-appear and Andrew's whistle told her all she needed to know. Smiling she minced across the drive to Peter and clung around his neck.

"Am I a good bikers' moll? Want me?" she murmured in his ear. She kissed him passionately, an opportunity Peter seized with enthusiasm. Their kiss deepened.

"Oh God, they're at it again," Andrew observed wryly.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the verandah interrupted further conversation as Eric swung the leather clad Elizabeth into his arms and carried her down the steps. As he held her there in his arms at the foot of the stairs, he kissed her and put her gently on her feet. Peter's chest swelled with pleasure at seeing the flame of quiet passion light their faces.

"Peter, for how long have you hired these bikes? But the gear that goes with them is - well exquisite." The practical mother had more questions. "Why, Peter, why?"

"Very soon I will explain everything. However, this is neither the time nor the place. The scooters and the bikes are permanent residents here. I saw the two mini bikes in the shed the other day and thought this could be a fun thing for all of us.

"Andrew, teach your Mum how to start and stop - remember it's automatic. Also teach her how to fall off but as she's been around horses she'll already know how, and with this thing she hasn't as far to fall."

Laughing at the shocked look on Elizabeth's face, Peter turned to Eric.

"Are you okay, Eric?"

A few wobbles and Elizabeth was off down the five-mile long driveway with Eric not far behind.

The dogs, which had gathered to check on all the excitement, tore off in chase.

Jennifer needed no instruction and gunned her bike into action with Andrew in close pursuit.

Standing quietly and smiling happily, Peter watched the clouds of dust as they receded into the distance. He was pleased that he'd been able to give the family such pleasure. So engaged was he in his thoughts he didn't notice Jennifer riding back towards him.

Pulling to a halt with a doughnut slide, Jennifer covered him in dust and the broad smile on her face showed how much pleasure she was getting. "Come on slow poke. Can't you ride? I'll go slowly for you and pick you up when you fall off."

"I'll be careful and not fall off," Peter grinned. "I don't want more cracked ribs."

Peter tightened his kidney belt, started the engine and took off. On one wheel, he flew down the drive, leaving a perplexed Jennifer in his wake. Seeing an irrigation mound to the side of the drive he headed for it, throwing the bike into the air before skidding to a stop. Grinning, he waited for Jennifer.

"Peter, you're incredible. You don't say you can ride horses. You just do it. You don't say you can ride a motor bike, yet you take off on one wheel and jump the bike as if you are born to it but, oh dear, how I love you."

Jennifer didn't blush as she made the admission. "Now travel slowly as we'll have to see what Mum and Dad are doing."

There was no sight of the scooters and Jennifer was becoming a little anxious until they noticed Andrew hurtling across a paddock, obviously enjoying himself.

Andrew, too busy giving orders to tease, shouted to them.

"Come on! The oldies and the dogs are down at the dam. They've reverted to teenager behavior so we'd better get there quickly before Dad starts bellowing to the heavens like a Mallee Scrub Bull."

In a single cloud of dust, the three bikes stormed into the distance until Jennifer slowed to negotiate a muddy patch. Not so Andrew, who flew through, splattering mud across her and the bike. Jennifer immediately gave chase and Peter was amused to see her lift one foot to push her brother hard in the bum so that he almost lost control.

Peter realized that the little money he had spent had brought the family pleasure and grinned, but only for a moment. The act of indulging in a simple pleasure was playing its usual trick on him, leading him to think of his own condition. Sighing sadly, he wished that his parents were there too. That would make things marvelous.

Shaking his mind clear of such sad thoughts, he joined the others on the earthen wall of the dam where two of the dogs had taken up position on the pillion seats of the two scooters as if it were their divine right to travel there.

Eric was standing with his arm around his wife whose head was against his chest. Obviously, they were extremely happy with their ride.

Overhead, two completely different, colored clouds of birds whirled around and around, dipping low to almost touch the water before rising high above the trees. The pink and grey cloud of galahs was silent as they flew, but not so the sulfur-crested cockatoos that shrieked and screamed their displeasure at the interruption to their afternoon drink. Finally, realizing that the humans posed no threat, they swooped down to land, glaring balefully at the trespassers.

In pairs, the galahs gracefully made their way to the water's edge, but not the cockatoos that noisily brawled and argued before beginning their pigeon-toed strut. Even then, they noisily shrieked and screamed their annoyance to each other before wheeling away to the distant gum trees.

A small mob of grey bush kangaroos, hard to detect in the long feathery grasses around the dam, hopped down the far bank.

Jennifer could hardly suppress her amusement as the joeys tumbled out of pouches to begin a rough and tumble game of kickboxing while their mothers, curious, stared at the visitors before dipping their heads down to quench their thirst as they decided they were safe.

At last, satisfied, the flyers called their young back to the security of their pouches and lazily ambled away in long, slow hops, disappearing back into the grass.

A rabbit darted across the dirt track, its grey body mostly hidden but its white tail like a target before it too disappeared into the long grass.

Hearing a loud splash, Peter turned to see Andrew lying in the water with Jennifer, hands on hips, laughing on the bank.

"Serves you right for splashing me," she spluttered, rushing to her bike and racing off with Andrew in close pursuit.

"They're as bad as they ever were," commented Eric. "They haven't grown up at all."

Sitting down on the grass and pulling Elizabeth onto his lap, he sighed. "Come on Peter, don't rush off after them. Let yourself rest while brother and sister relive their childhood. Besides, we would like to talk with you alone."

A flash of anxiety passed through Peter's eyes.

"We won't embarrass you," Eric hastily added.

Elizabeth had her own queries. "You ride horses, you ride motor bikes, you can sing and you danced with Jennifer with a practiced ease I haven't seen since the last time I was at the ballet. Now tell me you can shoot."

That last question really surprised Peter.

"Yes, I can shoot, and before you ask, I'm an accomplished marksman. No shot guns though. Why that question?"

Revealing her background as a rancher's wife, Elizabeth continued. "There's an infestation of wild pigs in the top paddock and shooting seems the only way of getting rid of them. They're attacking the lambs and destroying the fences."

"Wait, I'll be back soon, so perhaps I can show you." Peter was on his bike and riding away before Eric and Elizabeth could ask what he had in mind.

In minutes, Peter returned with a leather attaché case across his lap. He opened it and removed the Mini-Uzis to which he attached a collapsible stock. The large machine pistol had become a rifle.

"This will stop any pig. Perhaps you'd like a demonstration."

He rode to a gum tree over one hundred yards away and leant a fallen branch against the trunk. On his return, Eric and Elizabeth were amazed that he seemed to take very little time in aiming before they heard the soft crack as Peter fired. The branch jumped a little before falling to the ground in two pieces.

Quietly, they watched Peter lovingly remove the stock, folding it with care and returning everything to the case.

"I'm glad I haven't lost my ability," he noted. "Removing the pigs will be no problem."

Secretly he was relieved that his time in hospital hadn't affected his aim. Now that he'd satisfied Elizabeth's curiosity about his shooting ability, Peter knew there would be more questions to follow. At this stage, he wasn't ready to deal with them.

"Now, no more questions, please. You'll have all your questions answered rather soon. I'll tell you of my life and my history - something I believe I owe you because of my deep feelings for your daughter."

Further conversation was impossible as brother and sister arrived back - dusty and breathless with excitement.

"Come on, you lot! You're missing out on the fun," called Jennifer.

All five on their transport once more, with two dogs sitting up behind master and mistress, headed for a tour of the property.

They negotiated the cattle grids carefully and, as the ride progressed, Peter noted, with satisfaction, how Elizabeth and Eric were growing in confidence. He realized that there was no need to worry about the confidence of the other two. They were back on bikes, reliving their childhood. He was content.

It was dark as they turned homewards, the beams of their headlights cutting a swathe through the ground mist as it rolled down the valley.

Lovingly they parked their bikes and scooters in the machinery shed. Then the five happy riders waddled over to the house in their riding boots, footwear totally unsuitable for walking.

Peter rushed to his room, showered, changed and was in the kitchen heating the dishes before any of the others appeared.

Elizabeth demanded that she set the table in the dining room but Peter stood firm, setting out the kitchen table with the Chinese crockery and chopsticks he had earlier purchased. To the side of each setting was a bottle of Tiger Beer and a glass - full to the brim with ice.

As soon as everyone sat, Peter explained that he was waiter and that's why he was dressed in sarong with shirt and no footwear.

Standing at the foot of the table quietly he assumed control.

"Tonight I will say grace."

None of the family showed surprise at his dress or when he said the grace in Malay.

As Peter spoke the words so unfamiliar to their ears, Elizabeth was surprised to see tears in his eyes and patted his hand reassuringly as he placed a steaming bowl of Hot and Sour Soup before her.

When he had served everyone, Peter lit red candles and switched off the bright electric lights then took his seat with them at the table. Once the family had finished their soup, he placed plate after plate of varying dishes on the table.

The meal consisted of everything from a complete steamed ginger fish - including its head and eyes - to a roast duck with its head and beak prominently displayed. Crabs, fish, prawns, duck and beef were there as well as Nasi Lemak (coconut rice) and Nasi Goreng (fried rice).

Eric was the first to comment.

"I can smell incense burning and this meal - there's enough for a team of shearers. Peter, are you trying to fatten us? Just as well, Jennifer taught us to use chopsticks. I believe you once told her to learn or starve."

"Dad, you're a tattle-tale." Jennifer patted Peter's hand as she leaned across to whisper in his ear, "I love you."

Peter's hand reached across the back of her hair and he pulled her to him as he kissed her deeply.

"My God!" Andrew's laughter interrupted them. "Peter, leave the girl alone and eat or you won't have the strength to deal with her."

Jennifer pulled a face, poking out her tongue in a childish gesture at her brother.

The meal completed, Peter suggested that everyone refill their glass with ice from the bowl he had placed in the middle of the table and then fill the glass with beer. As host, he spun the duck's head as he explained the Chinese custom.

"The host spins the duck's head and the beak will point to one person who has to drain their glass without removing it from their lips, while everyone else takes a sip and shouts 'Yam Seng.' This process is repeated until all the beer's gone." He placed five more bottles of Tiger in front of each person before spinning the duck's head once more. The beak pointed to him so he drained the glass while Jennifer led the chorus of 'Yam Seng'.

Strangely enough, it was Jennifer who had to drain her glass at the next three spins of the duck's head, and it was Peter who took only little sips.

The laughter in the household was raucous as the game continued. Loudly they urged each other to be the next to drain their glass.

The game continued until Elizabeth called an end to the banquet. Tipsy and giggling, she stood and pulled Peter to his feet.

"I'm so glad Jennifer brought you home. I haven't enjoyed a day so much for..." She clutched the table and sank back to her seat.

Peter resumed command. "Goodnight everyone. You, Andrew, help me clean up. Off you others go as I believe there is church in the morning, so go, go, go!"



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 17



Fuzzy headed and blinking in the morning glare, one by one the family gathered in the kitchen.

Elizabeth had laid out a late, light breakfast and fussed over her brood, which now included Peter, checking they all looked respectable as they climbed into the car.

"Church is not all that far away," she told him, but Peter didn't hear. He was too busy holding Jennifer's hand and drowning in the depths of her eyes.

For once, Andrew was silent, possibly, because that damned duck's head had pointed to him so often that he ended up drinking most of the beer on the table.

The church, as Elizabeth called it, was no ordinary country church but a gothic cathedral endowed with a massive pipe organ, wonderful stained glass windows, magnificent hand-hewn sand-stone, walls and a history going back to the gold rushes.

Peter's appearance beside Jennifer caused a stir in the congregation and proudly he held himself tall as he took her arm to walk beside her down the aisle. Lustily he sang the hymns and knelt in prayer beside his love.

Together with her, he took communion and, as he walked back down the aisle to their pew, he fervently prayed that Jennifer would one day be dressed in a white bridal gown walking beside him as his wife.

Eric introduced Peter to the Bishop who was most gracious and friendly in his welcome.

However, the Bishop couldn't refrain from teasing Jennifer about her man. "I'm surprised Jennifer. I heard you had captured a wild Irishman. Glad he knows how to pray."

Smiling broadly, he turned to speak to the next parishioner.

Immediately after breakfast the next day, Jennifer handed Peter a picnic basket.

"We're off down to the creek for a picnic." Her eyes twinkled as she walked off carrying cushions and a rug. "It's been years since I've been down to the creek. Not since Andrew and I were children."

Past the shearing shed, the shearers' quarters and the sheep yard she led the way with Peter dawdling behind, across the wheat stubble towards the distant line of weeping willows, she-oaks and peppercorns.

Firmly fixed on her hips swaying so enticingly under the flared skirt, Peter's eyes did not waver.

As he caught up to her she linked an arm through his.

"We used to hide down here whenever we'd been naughty," she smiled up at him. "It's still the same, after all these years."

He didn't fail to notice the buttons on her blouse, undone just enough to reveal the white tops of her silken breasts.

Unaware of his glance, Jennifer seemed captivated by the setting. She let go the cushions and rug and they tumbled on the ground. Freed of the bulky bundle, she threw her arms out and twirled around, her head back and her hair hanging free.

"This is it!" She cried excitedly, slowing down a little. "Spread the rug out here." She laughed as she came to a standstill, pointing to an area under the largest willow.

Not daring to break into her mood, Peter watched her investigate the clearing.

"It's just like I remember it," she repeated as she examined each section. Shyly, she suddenly dropped her voice almost to a whisper, "Now you're here, it's just like I had imagined when a little girl."

They talked - well - Jennifer talked, while Peter was her captive audience.

Filtering through the trees, the sunlight gave their world a strange mellow light, and the bottlebrushes separating them from the outside world added an insulating barrier against the heat. The babble of the creek and the twittering of birds was the melody to which Jennifer reminisced.

Heads cocked to one side, four magpies strutted towards them as if to enquire why they were there. Satisfied that the humans meant them no harm, they threw their heads back and caroled their welcome to the two visitors.

At last, lunch eaten, the lovers grew silent. Quietly they lay in each other's arms, enjoying the peace in their souls.

Peter knew the time had arrived and didn't shrink for fear of refusal.

"Jennifer, there is something, I must ask you. Every time I've tried..."

Jennifer put two fingers to Peter's lips and smiled with a knowing, amused look in her eyes. "I won't stop you this time," she whispered softly.

For minutes, silently, not daring to breathe, they stared into each other's eyes until Peter stood, lifting Jennifer to her feet. Holding her hands, he dropped to his knees and looked up at her face.

The world seemed to become quiet and still, as if holding its breath in anticipation, even the birds were silent.

Peter broke the silence. "Jennifer, I love you with all my heart, all my soul and all my body. Will you marry me?"

Peter had never before seen such a look of love cross her face as he saw at that moment. Her eyes were two soft wells of green warmth, her face softened and her head dropped towards him as she whispered her reply. "Darling Peter, yes."

Peter was sure the family must have heard his whoop of joy as he leapt up and lifted her off her feet.

"Thank God. Thank You God!" His cry to the heavens came from his heart. They kissed with a passion that made both of them pant their need.

Not daring to progress too quickly, he gently lowered her to the rug and placed pillows under her head. He lay beside her, gently allowing his tongue to flick sensuously across her lips. Softly he nipped her bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth.

Jennifer's response surprised him. Previously she had been reticent, not allowing her full feelings to flow into her kiss. He had expected reservation - a shy holding back, even a deliberate withdrawal - but instead she opened her mouth and entwined her tongue with his, greedily sucking it into her mouth. Their embrace became more passionate than ever as she threw one leg across Peter, pulling him closer to her body as if unwilling to release him.

He felt the meaning in her embrace, her arms, thrown around his neck, and her leg-tightening telling him, "I am yours forever."

As they embraced ardently, Peter stared into her eyes gratefully accepting her body's message.

Taking his face between her hands, she pulled him even closer to her. Their lips met once more, brushing softly against each other. Then her hands went behind his head and pulled him into a more intense kiss. Her mouth opened and her tongue parted his lips.

Unaccustomed to a Jennifer who was so demanding in her passion, Peter was unsure what to do with his hands. Smiling, he lost his insecurity and wrapped one arm around her back, stroking her gently as he put the other hand on her thigh to pull her hard against him. He pressed his body into her, wanting to feel her soft breasts against his chest.

"Oh my God!" murmured Jennifer as she explored Peter's mouth with her tongue. She began caressing his neck, then down his shoulder and upper arm with her soft fingers.

Responding to the pressure of his hard arousal against her body, Jennifer wanted Peter as never before and she couldn't get enough of him. Slowly, she shifted her hand to Peter's, removing it from her thigh. Gently, she lifted it up to her breasts, pressing that hand hard against her. 

She pulled out of the kiss and closed her eyes, savoring the moment. She noticed that her fast breathing had turned to panting as she arched her back and thrust her breast again into Peter's palm.

His hand just curved to hold that one breast gently.

Tenderly he whispered, "The other one is getting jealous," as he moved to clasp the other breast. He made no effort to tweak her rock hard nipples, being content to just hold them and worship the feel of her softness - even through her blouse.

Completely relaxed, Jennifer felt her leg and hands drop away as she offered her whole body for further exploration.

Peter moved closer. He began to kiss her again, slowly and delicately, their lips together, slightly parted.

As they kissed, more slowly than before, Jennifer felt the warmth between her legs beginning to build until she felt as though she were on fire. She felt her toes curling slightly as if they were somehow involved. Her knees seemed to weaken a little as her relaxed legs fell wide apart and he held her body more tightly.

Their passion grew even more fervent and their feelings intensified.

Jennifer began to lose her inhibitions.

The background sounds of the magpies and crows disappeared and she could only hear his breath and the soft moans escaping from their ensnared mouths. All too soon, the light in the clearing dimmed and she could only see his eyes, sometimes closed, sometimes captured by her, as they became part of the kiss as well.

Jennifer became one with him and her body melted into his. She began to feel her body blossoming as even more of her honeyed essence flowed freely. She felt herself growing first warm and then wet between her legs and she could feel him move on top of her, his hardness pressing against her stomach. Rejoicing at the feeling, she demanded more.

As he kissed her throat, his lips followed the pathway where his fingers quietly undid the buttons on her blouse. Slowly he slid down her body until his head was on her breasts. Once there, he slid her blouse off her shoulders to reveal the lacy bra holding her succulent sweetness. Moving his lips to first one breast then the other, he worshipped her softness as he kissed the skin that lay open to him. Sucking her nipples into his mouth through her bra, Peter rejoiced in the knowledge that he was making her essence flow even more readily.

Jennifer's eyes flicked open and she stared at him as he moved to kneel at her feet. His hands began a painstakingly upwards climb from her ankles, savoring each inch of her satin-smooth legs until he flicked her skirt above her waist. She knew the time had come and she was ready for him. She was ready to complete the act of love with the man who had become her life's commitment.

"Oh God, ooooh!" The involuntary sounds broke from her without restraint, even as she stopped thinking, giving herself over to the pleasure that had taken possession of her body and mind. She knew that the sounds of moaning were coming from her own lips but was unable to be quiet. It was as if her moans were goading Peter onwards.

He stared at the vision revealed --murmuring in admiration of her beauty. "You're so exquisite, so lovely."

Realizing he had almost lost control, Peter stopped suddenly, panting hard as he asked the question he knew he must, his eyes pleading as he sought an honest reply.

"Jennifer, you've told me you want to wait for the wedding night. Do you want me to continue now or will I bring you back to reality so that you'll have no regrets later?"

It took some time for Jennifer to realize what he had asked and even longer to force herself to answer.

Peter had to strain to hear her words.

"Peter I want you and need you so much at this moment and I don't want you to stop but," she paused, struggling with her emotions, "I have to be honest and say I want to wait until our wedding night. Can you wait too?" 

Agonizing over her answer she continued with a smile, "But if this is what I have to look forward to on our wedding night then I want the wedding to come quickly."

Peter fell back on the rug, his arms wide. He was gasping, trying to regain his composure and appear normal once more. The hard shape of his erection was blatantly obvious in this position. He drew in a sharp breath and sat up.

"What a pity," he said, in a mock mournful tone, reaching across to straighten her skirt and button her blouse. Lying down again, he pulled her face tight against his chest as he let out a loud scream to the sky.

"Dear Agony Aunt, what in heaven's name do I do now?" He gave a little laugh.

Keeping her close and safe, he kissed her hair and her forehead as they both struggled to regain their equilibrium.

Jennifer looked up. Holding Peter's face in her hands, she studied his eyes. "We almost did it, eh? I'm glad you had control because I had lost mine completely. Thank you for your understanding and consideration. It makes me love you even more."

"Jennifer, so sweet so fragrant so soft and so passionate. All mine, all mine. I belong to you and I'm yours and yours only. You belong to me and you're mine. Thank you God."

Mute and unmoving, they lay together gazing up at the branches overhead, savoring the moment as their bodies recovered from their moment of madness.

"Wow!" The soft exclamation from Peter was the sound that brought them back to reality.

Then, with the heat of the moment receding, they dozed.

Jennifer awoke slowly, aware Peter's hands were moving tenderly across her shoulders, down her back and across her buttocks, savoring the sweet curves and the tightness there before retracing their steps. Knowing he wasn't trying to arouse her, she smiled and snuggled even closer to the man who was her love.

"I know you're awake, Jennifer - you've stopped snoring."

"That's not fair!" She gave him a quick slap on his chest.

"Jennifer, can I ask a huge favor of you? I want to delay telling your parents until after 8pm on Thursday night. Do you think that's possible?"

"Why?" Jennifer sat up, pushed Peter onto his back and straddled him, not allowing him to move. "That seems so strange. Why Thursday? Why that time? You really can be perplexing, Peter."

"Well," unwilling to reveal his plans, Peter was thinking hard, "I want to make the announcement really special, so bear with me - humor me - just this once. I want this surprise to be memorable. Please Jennifer can we wait?"

Jennifer stared at him for a long time before answering. "You know I'll find it very, very hard to keep this to myself, but okay, I won't spoil your fun. Perhaps I might enjoy it."

Showing surprising strength Peter pulled her over, reversing their position until he was straddling her. "Thank you!" he smiled, gazing into her shining eyes. "I am the luckiest man in the whole world. Thursday evening will be special. However, it's getting late so we'd better be getting back before they send a search party."

Monday rolled into Tuesday, Tuesday rolled into Wednesday, and nothing seemed different to the family other than the amount of time Peter spent on the phone using a strange language and a notable increase in Jennifer's bubbly, infectious mood.

When Peter took off on his motor bike with a, "Got some special business to do," no one asked a question or seemed surprised. Since Peter had joined them as a guest in their home, there always seemed to be something special in the air and the family accepted it.

Jennifer's buoyant spirits didn't escape Andrew's notice, however. Over the breakfast table, Andrew took a good look at his sister.

"Is Jennifer ill or something?" he remarked to the assembled group. "She seems on top of the world." He adopted his familiar teasing tone. "Come on Sis, what about a frown so we know you're alive."

When Peter asked him to take the family to town for the day on Thursday and to return at 6pm sharp, it didn't surprise Andrew in the least.

"There's something in the air, eh? I thought as much," he said with a look of smug satisfaction. His expression changed to one of shock when Peter handed him a wad of money.

"All expenses are on me," Peter said. "Take the family to a really good lunch."

At last, Thursday arrived on leaden feet. True to his word, Andrew had the family in the car early. Peter's excuse that his ribs were sore was enough for Jennifer to volunteer to stay with him, but Andrew dragged her into the car.

"No you don't. I don't trust the two of you together on a lonely farm. Never know what you'll get up to."

Eventually - so it seemed to Peter - they left. There was much to do. Hours later, an army bus rolled up the drive and the driver parked out of sight behind the shearing shed.

The surprise had begun.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 18



So much laughter and fun filled the family's return trip from Melbourne that the time quickly passed.

It was twilight as Andrew drove into the grounds of what he believed was his home and stopped, disoriented by the sight before him, unable to comprehend this was their driveway and their house.

Fascinated, the family could only stare at the myriad fairy lights bordering the driveway scattered in the trees and around the garden.  The lights took their attention totally, so amazed were they at the sight.

"What's Peter up to now?"  Jennifer exclaimed.

Twin lines of brown-skinned, moon-faced, stocky little men dressed in army uniforms stood at attention at either side of the entrance steps.  Each wore a white cummerbund around his waist and white gloves on his hands.

A tall, imposing, heavily bearded figure also in uniform and wearing a khaki turban stood at the top of the steps, and as the car stopped, he barked an order.

Four of the soldiers ran to open the doors and saluted the passengers.

Introducing himself in chant-like, heavily accented English as Rajit Singh, the turbaned officer, with head nodding from side to side, welcomed them.

"May I have the pleasure of welcoming you to Sahib Peter's Deepavali Party?"  He seemed almost sad as he continued.  "Sahib Peter is absent on special business, but he promised to return as soon as possible.  He should be here soon."

At first apprehensive at the strangeness of the situation, the family seemed to relax a little once this unfamiliar officer mentioned Peter's name.  As well, his imposing presence and his obvious care for their comfort reassured them.

Patiently he explained that in Hinduism, Deepavali is perhaps the most well known Hindu festival - the Festival of Lights.  Houses all over India and Nepal twinkle with tiny lights from clay lamps, lit to welcome the god Rama.

He pointed to the two statues on either side of their doorway and introduced them.  The first was Rama, one of the most important manifestations of God, and the second, the goddess Lakshmi the Hindu Goddess of wealth, light, wisdom and fortune and also of luck, beauty, courage and fertility.

"Please escort the memsahib and the young memsahib to their places.  Bring the sahib and the young sahib with you."  Rajit Singh turned to lead the way to the dining room.

A soldier walked with Elizabeth and another accompanied Jennifer.  A third soldier guided Eric and a fourth ushered Andrew.

Walking silently behind the women Eric and Andrew allowed themselves to be guided, unable to comprehend what was happening.  They heard Elizabeth's whisper to Jennifer.

"What's going on?"

Jennifer's offhand answer didn't inspire them with confidence.

"I think the army's taken us over for the night, but which army I'm not certain."

The hallway and dining room were ablaze with the flickering lights from small wicks burning in the miniature clay lamps and there was a strange smell of incense in the air.

It was not until one soldier bent to hold Elizabeth's chair that Jennifer saw a khukuri hanging from his belt under his cummerbund.

Looking around, she noticed strange goblets on the table - each bearing the same coat of arms.  The tumblers were not the usual and the settings were not the usual - indeed only the table, the chairs and the room were recognizable.

She picked up a silver goblet and studied the coat of arms.  Her thoughts made her smile.  Peter is a bugger.  The coat of arms was the same as that on his plaque.  What was he up to this time?

Her wondering thoughts went unanswered.  No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn't come up with a solution as to why he had arranged this strange party.  This was surely going to be a memorable night.

Deliberately, she looked around for other clues and noticed the officer studying her carefully.  Why should the officer be observing her like that?

Peter has left on business has he?  She looked at the officer more carefully and noted the khukuri at his waist.  Peter was certainly a loveable rogue, but she was wondering what he'd planned.  This game of his, as he acted the part of a Sikh Officer, would be most interesting.

At last, she knew the answer to her mother's question and her heart sang as she leant across to set her mother's worries at rest.  "I believe this is another of Peter's typical surprises.  Moreover, guess what?  He will be here soon.  Tell Dad and Andrew, but don't let any of the soldiers hear."

Her mother had to strain to hear Jennifer's whisper.  Grinning, she did as Jennifer suggested.  The haunted look in Eric's eyes disappeared as he acknowledged the message and the family sat back to enjoy the party.

Taking up his position at the door, Rajit Singh clapped his hands.  The soldiers immediately sprang to attention and began singing Abide with me.  Although the family recognized the tune, the words were unrecognisable.  For the family, it was an emotional moment.

"That was one of Mahatma Gandhi's favorite hymns and it's played by the combined bands of the Indian Defense Forces during the annual Beating of the Retreat Ceremony held on 29th January," the officer announced when the hymn ended.  "Please enjoy this humble meal."

Again, he clapped his hands and the waiters - or maybe they were soldiers; by now, Jennifer was perplexed - served the first course.

Eric and Andrew were lost for words.

Smiling broadly as if they knew a secret, the waiters placed small serving after small serving before the family members until they had tasted every dish - from a white curry through to a black curry.  Their taste buds reeled from the variety of dishes, and at last, they sat back, unable to continue.

"I see you're almost finished, but I do beg that you partake of a special sweet I have personally arranged for you."  Rajit Singh spoke English to them now with that singsong Indian accent; although throughout the dinner, his orders had been in a language no one at the table recognized.

The conversation had been subdued.

The waiters placed a bowl of iced water and a single peeled banana on a plate before each of the family.  Then a waiter stood beside each of them and dipped their banana into a bowl of molten toffee before plunging it into iced water.  They placed a Toffee Banana on each plate then stood back.

Jennifer was first to taste.  "Is this your recipe Rajit Singh?  If it is, you will never leave this farm."

The tone of her voice made the others look up from their plates before tasting their sweets.  The twinkle in her eyes boded ill for someone.

"You're too kind, young Mem."  His eyes glowed as he gave a slight bow in thanks.  Then he continued.  "My men are delighted you have enjoyed their endeavors.  If you have finished your meal, would you all be so gracious as to follow me.  I believe Sahib Peter will be joining you soon."

He led the way to the lounge that was mellow in the light of numerous small candles.

Jennifer gasped to see Peter's altar before the fireplace together with the pictures of his mother and father on the coffee table.  Two of the family's chairs and the settee were set in such a way that they faced both altar and pictures.

"Please be seated and coffee will be brought to you immediately."

The Sikh Officer barked an order and four soldiers marched in carrying trays holding coffee for each member of the family.

Only Jennifer thought it strange that the waiters had known the preferences of each family member.  She was now positive that the game had progressed to the next stage.

Standing, she began to walk slowly to Rajit Singh.  Reaching up to kiss his cheek, she whispered, "Peter you really can be most difficult and perplexing."

Ignoring her, Rajit Singh barked a long stream of orders.  The soldiers left and the door closed.  Only then, did he snake his arm around Jennifer's waist and lift her off the floor to kiss her.

Immediately the family men folk leapt up but Jennifer, struggling out of Rajit's arms to regain her feet began to laugh.

"Mum, Dad, Andrew.  May I introduce Peter O'Brien?"

Slowly, unwinding the full length of the perfectly constructed shape, Peter allowed the turban to fall to the floor.  Bareheaded, he tore off pieces of uniform, casting them aside where they joined the turban.  At last, he removed the brown contact lenses.  He stood in just a dhoti -- an Indian loincloth.

Laughing, Peter hugged Jennifer again.

"I was praying you'd go along with me for that party as it was special.  I needed to take all of you out of your comfort zone.

"Did you like my Ghurkha friends?  Yes they're real, and yes, they're in the British Army, out here on training exercises."

The hubbub of questions stopped when Peter held up his hand.

"Tonight I will answer all your questions about my family and my history.  However, before the evening progresses any further I must warn you that I'll become very emotional and will do things that are completely out of your experience.  

"I know the facts may alarm you and may even sicken you, but I've decided that I'll go ahead and give you my total history exactly as it was.  I won't gloss over the facts.

"You've asked questions and I'll give you the truth about me - my life - my history.  Nothing less will do.  Don't hesitate to ask questions and I'll answer them truthfully, although the revelation may turn you against me.  It's a risk I'll take for the sake of Jennifer."

"Now for my history."

Slowly, Peter walked to the altar and knelt, knowing that Jennifer's family could see his heavily scarred back for the first time.  Behind him, he could hear the family's reactions as Elizabeth gasped at the sight and Eric sucked in a deep breath.  Andrew's exclamation, "My God!" showed he also had seen the scars.

Bewildered and stunned by the sight of Peter's back, no one asked a question.

Peter lit the customary joss sticks and silently prayed before turning to face the family.  His eyes blazed with an intensity Jennifer had never seen as he moved to the coffee table and put his hands on the photographs.

"Perhaps you've guessed that these are photos of my mother and father.  But first, let me start at the beginning."

Fascinated, Jennifer watched as Peter stood in front of her father.  Then he sank to the floor prostrating himself.  He inched forward to place his forehead on her father's shoes before repeating the actions on her mother's sandals.

Standing slowly, he turned his back on them and lowered his dhoti so they could see his back and buttocks.

Aghast the family gasped and, satisfied that they had seen clearly, Peter retied his dhoti.

Again, he prostrated himself before Jennifer's parents and then moved into a kneeling position.  With head held high, demanding their attention with his steady gaze, he faced them proudly.

"Eric and Elizabeth, I love your daughter deeply.  She will never want for material things and she will never want for my love.  In spite of my many failings, I am begging your permission to marry Jennifer."

Smiling kindly, Eric rose to lift Peter to his feet.

"Both Elizabeth and I would be most honored to welcome you into our family, but don't you think you had better ask Jennifer?  Only she can say yes.  However, if it's any consolation, Elizabeth and I would be delighted."

Peter turned to Jennifer and sinking to his knees, he stared into her eyes as if trying to read her soul.  Hesitantly he took her hands.

"Jennifer, I asked you down by the creek and the answer was 'Yes'.  I love you with all my heart and soul.  With you, I have everything, without you, I have nothing.  I am asking you again in these formal surroundings.  Will you marry me?  Or have you perhaps changed your mind?"

Jennifer rose and with her eyes gleaming with love, her face wreathed in a broad smile she pulled him to his feet, staring into his eyes.  "Peter, I said yes then and I will say yes every day for the rest of my life.  Yes I will marry you."

Peter reached for her left hand and slipped a ring onto her finger.

"God, now he's torn it.  You'll be sorry!  Take it from me.  I've lived all my life with her."  Andrew couldn't restrain himself but no one took the slightest notice.

"I thought you had something special to tell us."  Eric grinned, and pulled Elizabeth onto his lap.  "Well, young man, you've certainly given the family a great present - yourself."

Fighting her way out of her husband's lap Elizabeth swooped on them, kissing them both, then examined Jennifer's engagement ring.

"Peter it's beautiful."  She looked down again and shook her head.  "It's absolutely beautiful!"

The two women laughed and cried while Peter watched, dumbfounded.

"A deep green emerald surrounded by diamonds in a setting of platinum.  Peter it's magnificent."  Elizabeth hugged Peter before leading Jennifer to her father and brother to display the ring.

Andrew rushed into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of champagne and glasses.

"Just as well we were prepared, though why Sis picked you I'll never know," declared Andrew, thrusting a foaming glass of champagne into Peter's hand before handing full glasses to the others.

"We're all delighted."  He'd noticed Peter's shock at the women's behavior as they clung to each other, weeping and laughing.

Eric added, "Don't worry, those are happy tears.  They're both happy."  He dragged them apart, handing Jennifer back to Peter while both took their champagne.  "Jennifer's almost yours now, so you had better learn to control her.  God knows, I've tried for twenty-four years now and failed.  Perhaps you'll have better success"

Trying to wipe her eyes clear of the happy tears, Jennifer only laughed and clung to Peter, until he bent to kiss the tears away.

While the excitement was dying down, Peter went behind the altar and returned with the diamond necklace and earrings, which he carefully placed in Jennifer's hands.

"These, my own sweet love, are yours.  Could you please wear them on our wedding day?  They are to be handed down through the family."

To Elizabeth he explained, "They were my mother's and I'm sure she would be ecstatic to see Jennifer wearing them.  Tonight she would know the jewels are being handed to her future daughter and will be worn at our wedding."

As if frightened it would disappear, Jennifer had eyes only for her ring, which she studied carefully.

When it was quiet and the family had recovered, they waited for him to continue.

Before he commenced, he sat Jennifer and her mother in the wide settee with Andrew and Eric in the chairs to the side.

Squatting Asian style in front of them and with his plaque and pictures behind him he started his story.

"You asked me about horse riding.  Well, my great grandfather rode eight winners at the Gragene Picnic Races then fell down the back steps of Warialda pub, broke his hip and died at the age of ninety-two.

"My grandfather had me on a horse almost every day before I left Australia at the age of five and I suppose I haven't forgotten all he taught me."

As if terrified of continuing, Peter swung about to kneel before the pictures of his parents and begged in a small, weak voice, "Forgive me but I must explain to my new family - I must tell the truth."

Waiting patiently, everyone was silent.  No one moved or commented as he sat back on his heels and continued.  To them it was strange to see this scarred young man talking to photos of his parents as if they were there in the room with him, but they were prepared to go along with his unusual ways now that he was to be one of them.

This was the strangest situation any one of them had experienced - the meal, the servants, the Deepavali Party and now this.

A deep feeling of uneasiness settled on Eric as he began to rethink his position.  I wonder if I have misjudged this young man.  No matter what, I have to protect Jennifer.  Is this story going to reveal good or bad -- is this Peter a criminal?  I have to know what Jennifer is letting herself in for.  He sat back and waited trying to keep an open mind.

"My father was posted by the RAAF to Butterworth, Malaysia and we lived on the Island of Penang.  As a boy of five, I was so proud of my school uniform of white shirt, navy blue short trousers, white socks and black shoes.  The RAAF emblem on the shirt pocket made the uniform special.  Even the RAAF bus taking me to and from school was special.  Yes I was so proud until one day," Peter stopped, his eyes misting.

Turning to Jennifer he begged, "Must I go on?"

"You know you must.  Tonight you must get rid of the phantoms so they never return.  It isn't fair to my parents if they don't know their son."

Peter took a deep breath and tuned to stare fixedly at his mother's picture.  There was a long pause as he re-gathered his thoughts.  Slowly he turned to face the family before speaking.

"Bussed home because of race riots, I arrived back early one day.  Hearing screams and moans coming from my parent's bedroom, I rushed past the servants into the bedroom to see a Chinese man lying between my naked mother's legs.  She was moaning and groaning and I began to pummel the man's bare back trying to save her.

"That man threw me against the wall and stood naked.  His ugly,  pocked marked face showed his hatred for me as he snarled in anger, 'What do you think you're doing Little One coming between a man and his whore?'  In spite of my mother's pleading to let me be, he repeatedly punched me about the body until I cried, begging him to stop."

"He called the amah and cook to come and take me away, but then changed his mind.  'No, hold him here and make him watch how a man deals with his slut.  Watch, Little One and learn.'  Turning to my mother he snarled, 'Be good - be very good or your spawn will feel my anger'.

"For years I believed he was my mother's lover but I eventually learnt how he had blackmailed my Mother by threatening to kill my father and me.

Oblivious of the white, horrified looks and the gasps of disbelief as the women clutched each other's hands Peter allowed the horror to unfold.  He even disregarded the loud complaints of the men.

"The servants ordered me to remain quiet about my mother and the ugly Chinese although they knew he was doing everything to humiliate her.  How I hated that man.

"Months after that first afternoon, we were to go to the Cameron Highlands.  My Dad, oblivious of Mother's blackmail said it was to be a second honeymoon and was eager to take us on this holiday, but on the way, a truck blocked the road.  My father got out to see if he could help clear the road and a burst of gunfire cut him down.

"I saw my first dead body - that of my father, and lots of blood - his blood - stained my clothes and washed the sweat from my face that afternoon."

At this point, a deep sob rose from Peter's chest.  His head dropped and he was unable to speak for a few minutes, reliving that awful moment.  He could smell the jungle, he could feel the heat and he could sense that death, even now.

Ignoring the horrified reactions of the family and their expressions of both shock and sympathy Peter took a deep breath.  With his eyes closed, he continued, his voice broken by the emotions he was reliving from that dreadful day.

"Mum was screaming while I just stood there, absolutely panic-stricken, waiting for my father to rise and give orders, but a smelly rice bag was thrown over my head.  Someone trussed me to a bamboo pole and hoisted me.  Off they went, carrying me into the jungle as if I was a pig going to the local market.

"I called to my mother, but a punch in the ribs and a hash bark of 'No' in Cantonese kept me quiet.  For how long I hung from that pole, I have no idea.  I can remember the heat, the thirst, the hunger and the roar of choppers dipping low overhead.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 18



"Just how far they carried me and where we were, I didn't know.  Finally cut free from that damned bamboo pole I fell to the ground, unable to walk.

"As I looked up, there was my mother, clad in a Sarong Kebaya - a sarong with a tight, very tight, jacket highlighting her breasts and waist (the Singapore Airlines Hostess style uniform) - standing on the verandah of an attap (a Malay traditional hut of bamboo and banana leaves).  She looked so calm and refreshed while I was lying there, still unable to move from the way my abductors had carried me suspended from a bamboo pole.

I wanted to scream my horror and my hatred for her.  I couldn't understand what had happened, and right at that moment, I blamed her with all my heart especially as the ugly Chinese had just appeared at her side and was kissing her passionately.

"Screaming and crying to her for help, I watched as his hands began to pluck at the buttons on her blouse.  Little did I realize that she like me was a terrified prisoner of this man and his band.

"'Ah, the Little One!  Tonight I shall break him into my bed.  He can become my bum boy' and he cackled evilly.  His followers laughed and slapped each other at the joke but I fell silent, not knowing what he wanted of me.

"My mother put my safety and well being before her own.  Ignoring the danger in which she was placing herself she screamed, 'NO!  If you touch him then you will never have me again' and she beat at him with her fists.

"Snarling like some wild creature, he flung her to the verandah floor.  'You don't think he'd please me, eh?  All right,' he turned to three of his followers.  'Take him to the cross and give him fifty lashes.'

"Turning back to my mother he leered, 'Let us see how your spawn likes that.  Remember, my whore, he gets fifty lashes anytime you fail in your duties of pleasing me.'  He dragged her to her feet and I was dragged off to the sounds of my mother's screams and moans."

Jennifer leant forward stretching out to place her hand on Peter's shoulder -- a simple action telling him she felt for his misery.

Peter's eyes flicked to her face and a slight smile told her he appreciated her action.

"Stripped, I was tied to a bamboo whipping post and the first blow of the rattan cane fell.  I was five but that didn't save me.  To stop myself from screaming, I bit into my cheek, refusing to allow my tormentors the pleasure of hearing my agony.

"All I could think of in my childish ignorance was that I would kill this man for what he had done to my father and me.  I vowed Eui Si Soon would pay a very high price for the pleasure he had taken in the arms of my mother."

"Bloody hell!"  It was too much for Andrew.

Elizabeth made no comment but her hands flew to her mouth in disgust then she clung to Jennifer as the two wept softly for the image of that little boy in the jungle.

Eric swore softly and leant across.  He slid his arm around his wife's shoulders as if to support her.

"I was five and unconscious before the cane had fallen five times.

"The next morning I regained consciousness, still tied the post, but it wasn't long before someone decided that as a young Matt Selah, white man, I would make an excellent spy and I was set free.

To ensure my effectiveness as a spy, the next day my lessons began.  They pounded Malay, Cantonese, Thai, Tamil and Mandarin - reading and writing into my head and the moment I faltered the dreaded cane fell.

Mathematics became my favorite.  That teacher was the only kind one of all my so-called tutors.  He always gave me special tidbits to eke out the poor food I was given.

"Day after day, week after week the group moved from jungle hole to jungle hole keeping clear of the choppers.  Mum did her best to protect me but she was just as much a prisoner as I was.  She could not escape because of me and I could not escape because of her.  We were living in hell."

Peter could hear Jennifer's soft weeping and saw Andrew pull her head to his shoulder to console her while he continued.  "The lessons and the beatings continued.  These beatings were especially severe when visitors arrived at the camp.  Eui Si Soon feted the visitors and gave Mum to them as a present to enjoy.

"Those times I dreaded in particular.  Once I received the beating, whoever flogged me rubbed salt into the lash marks.  When I regained consciousness I had to go into the bedroom with food and drink for the guest while…"

The horror and the terror Peter was outlining affected Jennifer and her mother who began to weep loudly clinging to each other.  They understood the trauma that he had endured every day of his childhood.

Peter heard Eric's angry comment, "What kind of people were these.  We treat our animals better than they treated you," but unable to respond, he left it unheeded as he persisted with his tale.

Almost whimpering, with anger in his voice Peter shook his head violently, and persevered.

"Jennifer, you must remember our time together on stage, how you found it difficult to believe that I could disguise myself so well during the melodrama."

Jennifer, looking at him through her tears, could only nod in agreement.

"The cast, too, didn't recognize me on stage that final night.  The truth is, I had many years of using a disguise for my own survival, and one little pause, one stumble, one error, no matter how trivial meant I would have died at the whim of either Malay security police or the Thai military.

"I was the group's spy, and wearing contact lenses to hide my blue 'Christian' eyes I was sent to villages to gather information, to purchase food, or to lead the special visitors back to the camp which was constantly moving.

"My disguise lessons included lessons in the Holy Koran so I could worship with Malays, and lessons in Buddhism so I could pass unnoticed in a throng of believers.

"I was about ten and was wandering down a jungle track when I felt a pair of small grubby hands pulling me into the thickets.  An Orang Kanaq, a Malay aborigine, squatted in front of me and his words surprised me.

"'It is time.  It is time for The Little One to become a man,' he said.

"That was when the most important education of my life started.  I became an assassin.  The aborigines taught me to kill.  They taught me to shoot until I became an expert sharpshooter and a killer, and I didn't always have to use a gun.

"They intended to use this Matt Selah to rid the jungle of this evil, believing the gang would never suspect this young boy -- their spy - of being capable of inflicting death.  The aborigines knew the Chinese culture well.

Peter rose and silently moved to the back of the altar.  He produced a cigarette box that he placed on the coffee table.  Carefully he picked out a small cigarette-like piece of bamboo, hollowed his lips and puffed.

The family watched silently as this was so unexpected.  The story had ceased and Peter had taken center stage.

"Andrew, try to move your right arm."

Andrew looked down to see his shirt pinned to the arm of his chair by a small bamboo dart.  He shuddered.

Peter continued.  "That dart wasn't poisoned, but had it been, it could just as easily have struck you in the throat and you would've died instantly.  Look at the dart and you're looking at death.  Yes, Eric and Elizabeth, I can ride horses, ride motor bikes and sing and dance but to my shame and horror -- I'm a trained killer."

Eric and Elizabeth studied each other for some clue as to how they would treat their new son, yet they both knew there was no choice.

This man had saved their daughter's life and had begged for their permission to marry her.  It was obvious their daughter loved him, and his history, although hideous, was in the past after all.

There wasn't a sound as Peter retrieved the dart and replaced it even more carefully in the blowpipe, which he replaced in the cigarette box.  He looked at the faces before him in the family circle.

"For about four years I learnt to become a killing machine - experienced in making poisons, accurate with my winged death and with guns.  There were intensive training sessions in unarmed combat where the aim was to put the opposition down to stay down.

I had a comprehensive education in everything from death to language lessons, reading lessons, religious lessons, math lessons and lessons in pain."  He almost shrieked the word 'pain' as though he could feel the rattan cane lashing into him still.

The family winced.  The pictures Peter painted were so vivid they could almost see his turmoil and smell his hatred.  They certainly shared his anguish.

"Suddenly, the games became more dangerous.  The gang brought four prisoners into the clearing - twin Chinese girls and twin Tamil girls.

Because the girls were twins the gang considered them good luck and had kidnapped them to gain finances from two powerful, wealthy families.  One family was in Singapore the other in Malaysia.

"My mother, knowing the horrors that faced them as prisoners of her evil lover went hysterical at the sight, and that day my beating with the rattan cane was most severe.

"Not content with ensuring my back was running in blood and then rubbing salt into my back, my torturers rubbed acid leaves into the mess that was my flesh as they tried to force me to scream.

"They sealed their death warrants.

"At night the five of us - the four girls and I - huddled together under a hut for warmth and safety.  During the day, I made certain no one touched them.  I was their protector and guardian.  For months, the five of us built a friendship where I was their shield and big brother.

"When their food was insufficient, I gave up mine or I stole food from the cookhouse so they didn't go hungry.  In spite of everything, the jungle, the heat and the poor food the girls seemed to thrive.

"Then disaster struck.  Within two weeks of each other, they started bleeding.  Their sexual clocks had started and I overheard the cruel voice of Eui Si Soon.  'Well, our little sparrows will make everyone happy after I have broken them in.' His laugh was evil."

Andrew leant forward in his chair, and Peter heard him breathe, "No, surely he wouldn't!"

Without glancing at Andrew, Peter returned to the horror of his former life.

"That night we crept into the darkness of the jungle and I led them to the Orang Kanaq's clearing where we hid until the sun rose.  Using all the skills the aborigines had taught me, I led the frightened girls to the nearest kampong -- a Malay village - where I ordered the police to take us to the local town.  There my blue eyes, not my fluent Malay, achieved the desired result.

"Explaining the presence of the girls I suggested they inform KL - Kuala Lumpur - the capital - that they had the girls.  Not trusting the police, I listened intently to the conversation before snatching the phone to order, in fluent Malay, a detachment of police to come and collect the girls.

"I sat in the corner of the office with the girls, consoling them and begging them to go to their parents for help.  They had to do something or both Mum and I would be dead.

"Hearing the rumble of armed vehicles approaching I fled to lie in the long grass, watching a number of armed scout cars arrive.  Politely the police escorted the girls to the leading armored car and the convoy left.

"Earlier the girls had cuddled me and kissed me, begging that I leave with them, but I still had a job to do.  I had to free my mother.

"Sadly, I watched the vehicles carrying my four little friends disappear into the distance before I faded into the shadows.

"Three days later I was heading towards the jungle clearing.  To be frank, I was stupid and at the age of 14 especially with what had happened to me, I should have known better.  Truthfully, my mind was busy planning to free my mother -- nothing more.

"Without warning I was surrounded by members of the band.  They quickly hauled me before a very angry Eui Si Soon who, screaming in Cantonese, demanded, 'Where are the girls?'  I just smiled and shrugged.

"Bellowing, he repeatedly punched me in the stomach then ordered his men to throw my mother and me into the tiger cage.

"This was a most feared punishment as the tiger cage was a tiny bamboo prison so small two prisoners could only crouch side by side with their heads bowed.  The gang kept all prisoners in that cage until their wills were broken but usually twenty-four hours was long enough for that to occur.

"During the night when all was quiet Mum asked if the girls escaped safely and when I outlined what had happed she gripped my hands and sighed, 'I'm so proud of you.  You are a man.'

"She went on to explain how Eui Si Soon had repeatedly raped and then blackmailed her by threatening her with his plan to kill my father and me.  She explained how mystified she had been by the attack on the way to the Cameron Highlands and could only assume that one of the servants had revealed the family's plans for a second honeymoon.

"It was while she drowsed with her head on my shoulder that I felt a small hand pushing some containers of darts into my hand and soft words welcomed me to adulthood.  Without disturbing my Mother, I hid the containers in the waist tie of my sarong.

"At sun rise I heard the order, 'Bring his mother.'  Astonished, I couldn't believe what happened next.  The leader ordered his men to strip her and to spread-eagle her by tying her to four stakes.

"He seemed to enjoy telling me of his plan when his men dragged me before him.  Gloating he outlined his plans for us both.  'Because you want to be a hero, every man in the camp will rape your mother repeatedly until she is dead.

"First, we shall flog you, and then ask you again about the girls.  After that your mother will be dead.'"

The memory of this day was too much for Peter.  Weeping openly, he turned to face the two pictures.

It was some minutes before he could continue, and Jennifer frowned at her family when they attempted to rise to go to his side.  She ignored their murmurs of sympathy.

Slowly she stood and moved beside him.  Then she knelt with her arm across his shoulders.

There was a long silence until he faced Jennifer and nodded to show how much he appreciated her support.  She returned to her seat beside her mother.

Having regained control of his emotions, he faced the family again.

"I shrugged the hands of my guards from my arms and as soon as we rounded the corner of the attap, I dropped to my knees and 'poof!' one was dead.  The second guard was still wondering why his friend hit the ground when 'poof!' he also was dead.  The man who had flogged me so mercilessly turned to flee but 'poof!' a third time and he joined the others in death.  The poison-tipped darts had acted instantaneously.

"I crawled under the attap to see what was happening and could see my mother naked, tied to the stakes.  All the men were stripping and queuing up ready to take turns on her."

Jennifer's wail and her mother's strangled cry of "Oh my god" didn't stop Peter.

Oblivious of his surroundings and the family's presence, his mind had taken him deep into the jungle, watching the preparations for his mother's gang rape.  He did not realize the dismay, the revulsion and disgust the family was feeling.

"Suddenly I felt a nudge and my aborigine friend was beside me handing me more darts with a most gleeful expression on his face.  'Today, The Little One has become a man,' he whispered.

I took another pipe of death.  "Poof!  The first man in the queue, dead, pitched forward on his face.

"Poof!  The second one fell sideways, but it wasn't until the fifth fell that the others realized they were under attack.  They fled, screaming, with the 'wings of death' in those little darts following them.

"Suddenly I heard that bastard's voice above me.  Eui Si Soon was standing on the verandah above my head.  'The bitch isn't worth it' and a shot rang out.

"My Mother was shot through the head and I was covered in her gore, with her blood and parts of her brain over my face and in my hair.

"Stupefied, I lost consciousness  and when I did regain power over my mind and body I was with the aborigines who had cleaned me up and supplied not only a fresh sarong but had laid beside my body a rice sack containing all the accoutrements of death.

With the sack slung over my shoulder, I left my friends.  My hatred and my anger overpowered my reason and my sorrow.  I began stalking that bastard and his band of scum.  They learnt what terror was."

Peter's eyes were red and the family felt the terror the men had felt.

Even Eric and Andrew, hardened farmers as they were, recoiled from the tone of voice, that whip lashed into their souls.

Andrew's mind returned to the night Peter drove out of the garage with the dummy beside him and he shuddered.  That night, those men didn't stand a chance.

"I stalked them.  I picked them off one - two, and sometimes three at a time.  First, it was the one in the lead, then a straggler.  Sometimes it was one of a group.  I killed them in the latrines or as they sat eating.  Nowhere were they safe.  It was as easy as shooting ducks.

"I garroted them in their beds as they slept.  I used the silent death," and he patted the cigarette box of bamboo darts, "Or I shot them.  I beheaded, I castrated, I bled some to death and I hung some.  The methods of death were many and varied.

"Terror was with them 24 hours of the day and fifty-three men died.  I felt no remorse.  I felt nothing.  I was unfeeling - a zombie with only the thought of death in my mind.

"But then I became so confident that for the second time I grew careless.  Accidentally, I came face to face with Eui Si Soon and saw him reach for his revolver.

'So?  You've come to join your slut mother, eh, Little One?' were his words

"He should never have paused to speak as my dart hit him in the throat.  His revolver fell to the jungle floor unused.

"However before I could move, or rejoice in my victory, I had a khukuri at my throat.  At first, I felt that my life had ended when the band of Ghurkhas captured me.

"They had been following the fleeing band, witnessing the killing of my tormentors, and the boss's death.  They had taken aim on him as he reached for his revolver then paused while I killed him.

"For two months I was hospitalized being checked for diseases.  During this time, the Ghurkhas treated me like one of their own.  The British officers wanted to hand me back to the RAAF, but the soldiers were unhappy at the thought, so the officers allowed me to sleep in the barracks, to march with the troops and to carry arms in the uniform of the Sixth Brigade of Ghurkhas.  I took part in their training exercises.

"Finally I was returned to the Air Force, but was such a trouble maker they soon sent me back to the Ghurkhas.  I had grown to love them and their way of life.

"At the RAAF School, I fought with everyone.  They teased me about my slut mother.  Unable to treat the girls charitably, all I could think of was that bastard servicing my mother like a stallion with a brood mare.

"Back with my beloved Ghurkhas I accompanied my platoon on a mission in the jungle at the back of Malacca, and through good luck, was able to save thirty-two of my platoon from a communist ambush.

"They thought I was unbelievably brave because I disguised myself as a Malay urchin, loudly singing the 'Negara Ku' - the Malaysian National Anthem - when I strolled nonchalantly into the arms of the attackers who had my friends pinned down.

"To be frank, I didn't even consider I would die, but why would I have worried?  My family was gone, and late at night I often prayed that the Angel of Death would soon arrive to collect me.  I really had no reason to live."

Peter grinned maliciously and his new family recoiled in horror.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 18



"The killer was loose again and quietly but slowly I took care of the attackers.  When I called my friends they couldn't conceive of what I had done except that I had used the khukuri I was wearing under my sarong to remove the dead men's ears in the manner of the Ghurkhas."

Peter noticed Elizabeth's shudder at this detail and Jennifer's reaching to hold her mother's hands.  He concluded that his story had been too vivid but after all it was his history and he had not told the family all the degradation he had endured.  His love for their daughter had driven him to tell them his history -- the words, the pictures in his mind and the smells.

He wondered what would have happened had he told them of the taste of cleaning his teeth with bamboo, scraping his tongue, scrubbing his skin with sand before bathing in a jungle stream.  Should he have mentioned the dangers of the jungle from snakes, tigers and elephants?  What about the smells of burning flesh to remove the leeches and the days of eating leaves to kill hunger pangs?  Should he have mentioned begging in the markets just to keep alive?

No!  He decided he had told them more than enough.

"I think I should stop," he said as he stood.  "I am so sorry Elizabeth, Eric and Andrew for the pictures I drew.  Jennifer knew part of my story but I know it must have come as a shock to you.  I should not have made you listen to my outlining all the horrors and trauma of my life.

Unable to contain herself any longer Elizabeth rose to hug Peter.

"Yes a shock, but we're so proud of you because, well, look at you now!  However, I feel that the story is not complete so continue.  You must get this all out in the open.  It has to be left behind."

Peter looked at his watch then pulled Jennifer to her feet.

"My love, I've asked you twice to marry me.  All those years ago, at this time, my mother died.  In memory of her and my father, I'm asking you once more to marry me.  I'm a trained killer with a horrific background, but you've taught me to use my heart for love.  In spite of my myriad failings, will you still marry me?"

Before answering, Jennifer studied his face and ran a finger down his scar.

"You fool, Peter.  You're a big fool.  All that's in the past and I don't see a killer here in front of me now.  I see a wonderful, loving man who's mine from now to eternity.  Yes, I'll marry you - and don't bother asking again, you idiot."

Pulling his face down to hers, she kissed him so passionately he had to gasp for breath.

Slowly, giving himself time to recover his equilibrium, Peter moved to the plaque.  Unsheathing one of the two khukuris, he read the inscription,

To Honorary Major of the 6th Ghurkha Brigade,
.............Peter O'Brien.
..........Let no man be fooled
....The Little One is a man to be feared.

Jennifer wasn't surprised when he nicked his thumb before replacing the blade.

"Yes.  I am The Little One," he admitted, "But don't be mistaken about its meaning.  I was the youngest Honorary Major of all time.  I was sixteen, and I was given that honor simply because I didn't value my life and risked it to save my friends."

Andrew could restrain himself no longer.

"Well, Peter.  You haven't changed much over the years.  You risked your life to save Jennifer and for that we are most grateful."  Andrew's sincere thanks cut across the story.  "Show Mum your bullet scars."

Ignoring the comment and refusing to show anything more than his naked back, Peter smiled and, once again squatting, continued.

"Look at those knives, look at the blow pipes and see death.  Feel my back and sense my hatred, my anger and despair.  See all my scars, look into my heart and know you're a dead man if you touch my family."  Peter's eyes swept over Jennifer and Elizabeth then the two men.

Each of the family shivered, knowing that those few words rang with truth.  Months later, those words 'You're a dead man if you touch a single member of my family' would scorch their hearts.

"News of my promotion and my so-called exploits were soon known in KL and I was escorted to a mansion where I was re-united with my two Tamil sisters.  Their father couldn't do enough for me, and enrolled me at Saint Francis Xavier's College in Penang to finish my secondary education.

"As I was the only Matt Selah - white person - in the college, I became a celebrity, but I took no notice at all, remaining a loner.

"Already I had found that as soon as I made a friend, the friendship was very quickly swept away by my refusal or my inability to let go of my past and I was alone yet again.

"My Tamil father made certain the Catholic priests trained me in all the European sports and past-times.  He arranged to have my voice trained.  I'm grateful for that training now but, God, how I hated those lessons with the priests!"

Peter then turned to Jennifer and then to Elizabeth as if seeking their forgiveness, "I was not perfect, however.  Candidly, I was a problem - a real curse when it came to women.

"I could talk to my twin sisters when it was about living in the jungle, yet I became objectionable and horrible when the conversation was about anything else.  I was more than an irritation - I was impossible."

"As soon as my education at the college was completed, I was shunted off to the Singaporean family of the Chinese twins.  Again, I was alone with strangers and any friendship I could have built with my Indian friends was shattered.

"The Singaporean Police soon discovered my presence and they enrolled me at Nanyang University where everything was in Cantonese or Mandarin with occasional lectures in English.  The police used me as a secret agent because the University was a hot bed of communism.

"It made no difference to me, as I was still a Matt Selah - an outcast - still a loner.

"I had completed my First Year Exams when I saw a picture of a Singaporean Cabinet Minister with an article about his exploits.

"The Cabinet Minster and two of his bodyguards were dead within the week.  The article hadn't included all the facts - that the three had taken their pleasure of my mother, and that my flogging that night had been particularly severe.

"Before my second year at Nanyang University, all those who had used my mother were dead and The Little One slept soundly, possibly never to be reawakened.  I passed the final exams and was the first and only Matt Selah to be dux of that University, passing my subjects with honors.

"Perhaps they should have offered a university medal in the faculty of 'killing' and I wouldn't have had to study so hard."  Peter's hoarse laughter here was both bitter and harsh.

After a long pause he continued.

"Yes, I earned extremely high degrees with honors, simply because I had no other life.  I couldn't socialize, I couldn't even be happy - not even with my two families of twin sisters.

"There was no way at all I could mix with women, and I regarded everyone with great suspicion.  I was an outcast - a very, very dangerous loner.

"My Tamil and Cantonese Fathers must have talked over my problem and agreed between them that I needed some training in the softer side of life.  They packed my things and put me on a train to Butterworth where a limousine picked me up.

"The two burly guards accompanying the driver allowed no nonsense.  Next, I was ushered into a mansion in Bukit Mertajam and left there.  I noticed the gates were closed and the two brawny guards stood waiting for me should I attempt to leave."

The women looked relieved that the horror had passed and seemed almost delighted that the topic had changed now Peter was telling of his return to civilization.

Even Andrew was silent wondering just how the story would end.

"A meal was on the table in the dining room and I ate well - no cutlery so I ate in the Malay fashion - right hand only, after I poured water from the ornate silver teapot in the center of the table over that hand and flicked the water to the floor.  I knew hidden eyes were watching me through the ornate filigreed paneling walls, which definitely belonged in a harem.

"The meal hadn't finished when I collapsed on the floor, realizing, as I lost control, that I'd been drugged.

"Suffice to say that after two months of being trained in the subtle arts of pleasuring a woman, I was made to realize the truth of the favorite quote of the bordello in whose care I found myself,

A Woman
Be very careful if you make a woman cry,
Because God counts her tears.
Woman came out of a man's rib,
Not from his feet to be walked on,
Not from his head to be superior,
But from the side to be equal.
Under the arm to be protected
And next to the heart to be loved.'

"Eventually I left Asia to return home to Australia, but was Australia home?  I hadn't seen it since I was five years old and now as I returned I'd lived the life of six adult men in one.

"Financially I was a multimillionaire thanks to the largesse of my two Asian fathers who had given me huge bank accounts.  They seemed to think I had done something wondrous in saving their daughters.

"However, money was nothing compared to the empty space in my heart.  In fact, money seemed to pour into my coffers from everywhere.  Dad's insurance and retirement benefits were huge and then there was Mum's money as well.  There was money aplenty but it meant nothing to me.

"I had no family and I needed no money, and my god laughed at me as everything I touched turned to gold.  I was a Matt Selah version of King Midas and those millions climbed until today, I am a billionaire.

"Back then, at the same time as I was wealthy, I remained an assassin - a loner.  I was a killer, and one known very well to those who met me on my arrival in Australia at Mascot - the Australian Secret Service -- ASIO.  Occasionally they called me in to supply information about Chinese or Indian Criminals.

"Very quickly my degree in psychology reminded me I had to find friends and couldn't exist as a loner.  I joined a tennis club where I met Ted and Bob.  Later I joined the dramatic society to put my Asian skills to work.  Yet all the time I kept my wealth and background a secret.  I would not reveal the true Little One to anyone.

Smiling, Peter took Jennifer's hand.

"Then you came along and, well," he paused, "the rest you know.

"I met you and for the first time a woman stole my heart.  I realized that to gain your love I would need to expose my soul.  The prospect was terrifying.

"We both struggled with our demons.  You battled with the memory of that night of the school ball and I contended with the horrors of my childhood.  Thank God, we were able to overcome our fears of allowing our hearts to become one.

"Suddenly I've found peace, love and happiness with your family, and no-one will ever take that away from me."

His words were so emphatic that Andrew couldn't help thinking that anyone who tried would be risking everything.

Exhausted, Peter leaned forward and placed his hands in Jennifer's lap.  Slowly he lifted his eyes to look first at Eric then Elizabeth.

"Now I must ask you once more.  I need a truthful answer.  Am I still welcome to become your son as Jennifer's husband?  Eric, I sense you in particular have been questioning my history, wondering if this stranger is the right man for your only daughter."

Peter continued explaining his past and revealed even more about himself.  At times, he paused, wondering if he was overdoing his personal sell to win over Jennifer's parents.  Yet he continued producing paper after paper of clippings from the Straits Times, University Degrees and passports to back up his history.  He didn't want to leave anything to chance and risk the family finding out something of his past a few years on.

Eric and Elizabeth were astounded at the truthfulness and openness of Peter to reveal such a painful and brutal past.

Peter paused to draw breath and Eric rising from his chair motioned Elizabeth that he wanted to see her privately in the kitchen.

Peter, Jennifer and Andrew felt an air of tension but in his usual fashion, Andrew tried to make light of the situation.

Eric and Elizabeth seemed to be gone for what felt like an eternity.  Finally, they walked back into the room hand in hand both bearing a grin that instantly eased the tension.  Their earlier disquiet about Peter's background had disappeared.  There was no hesitation as Elizabeth darted across the space between them and hugged Peter to her as Eric lifted him to his feet.

"Lad, you're part of the family already and have been in our hearts since Jennifer first prattled on nonstop about 'her Peter'.  That was many months ago.  Yes, to be truthful Elizabeth and I have been worried that Jennifer has been involved with a man whose mysterious background confused us.

"Then there was the worry over the three criminals.  Yet Andrew was so certain you could cure the problem and the heartache.  He rang us immediately you drove off in that truck reporting that there was no problem as you would fix their wagon.

"Stop worrying - you're ours and we're yours.  Thank you for unburdening your soul - we know it's been harrowing, but now it's ceased to be a burden and we're all here to share your worries and troubles."

Stunned by the family's reaction and the speed with which they made him part of the family Peter felt a heavy weight slide from his shoulders.

Even Andrew's dry comment seemed so friendly as well.  "Good on you Jennifer.  I thought you must have something under that head of hair.  I can't believe Sis has captured this wild man - a billionaire to boot.  What about a loan?"

He threw his head back and roared at the shocked look on Peter's face.

"Now you're family you're on the tractor tomorrow.  No shirking," he concluded.

Everyone's attention was on the engagement and the ring and Peter could actually feel the warmth of feeling while he packed up all the bits and pieces that made up his personal memorabilia.  He took one last look as his parent's pictures as he packed them away carefully, and he was certain they were both smiling broadly.

As Elizabeth handed Peter a coffee she quietly whispered to him, "Guide me, Oh Thou Great Jehovah! Well I'm so grateful that our God led you to us."



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 19



As Peter and Andrew walked back to their rooms, Peter's comment, ‘What a day’, gained a quick retort from Andrew.

"You're not free yet,” he said.  “I think there's worse to come.  Mum and Jennifer have some business to discuss with you.  You thought that the hardest part was asking Jennifer to marry you and plan a fancy engagement.  I have news for you my boy."

Andrew began to laugh uproariously.

"I'll saddle the fastest horse first thing in the morning - there's still time to escape."

Still chortling loudly, he wandered off down the corridor leaving Peter mystified.

For the next two weeks, Peter relieved Eric on the tractor, and when lunch arrived with Jennifer each day, he just didn't get any time alone with her.  Mealtimes at the house were the same and at night he was so tired he just wanted to sleep.

Then one night around the dining table, they were drinking a final cup of tea when the fateful question came from Elizabeth.

"We're delighted you're shortly to become a member of the family, but when?"

Peter couldn't answer and his thoughts were in turmoil.  No wonder Andrew thought worse was yet to come.  He didn't know when.  Now?  That wasn't practical.  Jennifer and he hadn't been alone together long enough to discuss such things.  God, he was only just becoming accustomed to the idea of being engaged.

As these thoughts raced through Peter's head, Elizabeth waited for his answer.

"Well, Jennifer would make a beautiful Easter bride."  Elizabeth's patience was at an end.

Peter could only stare, not daring to verbalize his thoughts.  Was she mad?  Easter was months away.  Elizabeth had taken leave of her senses.

Andrew was no help.

"I told you there was worse to come,” he said with a smug tone in his voice.  “Should I saddle the horse now?"  He laughed.

"Don't look so surprised and downcast, lad."  Eric took Peter's tea and replaced it with a whisky and water.  "This happens to all of us.  Just agree and let the women get busy with the arrangements.  It's easier to say yes, believe me."

Ignoring her men folk’s comments, Elizabeth still awaited Peter's response.

"I suppose I've waited all my life for Jennifer so I can wait a few weeks longer,” he replied with considerable reluctance.  “But I must warn you that when it comes to wedding plans, I do have some commitments.  My regiment has always insisted that my old platoon, the men I saved in the jungle, give me a military wedding.

“I will be in uniform and they will form a guard of honor.  Other than the uniforms and the guard of honor, it will be a normal wedding.  I hope this won’t upset any arrangements you had in mind."

Jennifer left her mother’s side and hugged him.

“Underneath all that military dress will be my husband, and that’s all that matters!”

To reinforce her words she hugged him tightly and stayed close by his side, clinging to his arm.  Together they waited for Elizabeth to continue.

"As Christmas is next week, do you mind, Peter if we forgo an Engagement Party, particularly as all your friends are in Sydney?"  Elizabeth didn't await his reply.

"We will be having our usual Christmas Dinner and our whole family will be here for the double celebration.  I'm sure you’ll enjoy the festivities."

"Elizabeth, I've never had a Christmas Dinner.  And I've never experienced an Engagement Party although I suppose I've read of one in the Sunday Paper - so I'm entirely in your hands."

He seemed relieved to be able to escape as he led Jennifer out onto the front drive under the starry skies.  At last, they were alone together with only the vast universe for company, and he could hold her tight and kiss her.  Peter lowered his gaze to her upturned face as she waited for his kiss.

Andrew’s voice came out of the dark.

"Hey, we’ll have none of that on this property!  Get to bed now,” he called out, as his feet crunched over the gravel on his way to the stables “Not you, Jennifer.  Leave him alone, and don't you dare go to his bed or I’ll tell Mum."  Andrew couldn't resist teasing them.

Peter worried about where they would live.  He worried about the wedding.  He worried about how he would ever explain to Jennifer what his regiment, and his two fathers required of him.

He did ask Andrew if he any inkling of where Jennifer would like to live but Andrew could only come up with a non-committal reply.  Any time he tried to raise the subject with Jennifer, she seemed to be busy with other things at the time.  It seemed he had no way of asking, as she was strangely silent on the matter.

Then one night when they were sitting on the back verandah  studying the stars and listening to the faint sounds of the night Jennifer leant against him and admitted she would love to live somewhere close to her parents.

“You don’t know but the place to the east and this property once formed one great estate.  It’s now for sale and if we can afford it – well, I would love to live there.  That is provided you also would like to live there.”

The hug Peter gave her confirmed how he would live anywhere with her.  “When do we go and have a look?”  Peter sounded enthusiastic.

Jennifer pretended she did not hear the question and with each immersed in their thoughts they returned to their study of the stars.

Early the next morning Andrew woke him with the cheery call.

"Get your leathers on!  We're going sightseeing."  Andrew's orders were decisive.

The whole family appeared at breakfast in their leathers ready for what Andrew so euphemistically called sightseeing.

To Peter it seemed as though this sightseeing would be more an expedition as the bins on the scooters were loaded with bottles of ice cold water and refreshments.

It was fun as they raced across the creeks, not worrying about getting wet.  Elizabeth did her best to spray Eric, and Peter, dragging up the rear, marveled at how carefree everyone seemed.

Up the distant hill, to the far end of the property they rode and into the state forest.  Everyone enjoyed developing their skills negotiating the sand and the rocks, but the riders were most careful, knowing they wouldn’t be able to tolerate the laughter of the others if they took a tumble.

Up and up they climbed following narrow animal trails until Andrew, the leader called a halt.

“Time for a drink and something to eat.  This is thirsty work and I’m hungry.”

You’re always hungry,” was Elizabeth’s quick retort.

“I’m just a growing boy!”  Andrew was determined to have the last word.

They dismounted and parked their bikes.  Elizabeth and Jennifer spread the food and drinks on a rug and they talked ceaselessly between sips and bites of the food they laughed and joked about the ride.

As soon as everyone had finished the remaining food and water was repacked.  Nothing was left to litter the bush.

Eric took the leadership from Andrew and began to lead the way through the trees.  Peter could only surmise they had planned something together.  Mystified, he held Jennifer’s hand and followed.

Cresting a rise, the little party found itself on a cliff edge.  Below them and stretching into the distance were two valleys separated by a long line of low hills.  Through each valley flowed a creek and the scene formed a picture book tableau.

Pointing towards one of the creeks with his arm around Jennifer, Peter whispered, “I can see our magic place where you said you’d marry me.  That’s a magic place for me and it was a magic day I’ll always remember.”

With shining eyes, Jennifer turned and hugged him.  “It was special for me too,” she said, looking up into his face.

Eric pointed out their home and drew Peter’s attention to the valley on their right.  There stood an old Australian homestead - another stone mansion - almost a twin to the Blake’s house yet considerably larger.  Even at this distance, Peter could see the paddocks were bare of livestock and the property was in a sad state of neglect,

“That’s Rocky Springs,” and Eric explained that both properties had been part of one great estate owned by his great, great grandfather and his great, great grandfather’s unmarried brother.  They had argued and split the property.

The feud between the brothers was so bad that there had been no reconciliation.  The family line that owned the second property had ended about 30 years previously, leaving no heirs.  Now, at last, the local stock and station agents had listed this property for sale.

Jennifer snuggled against Peter and put her arm around his waist as she interrupted her father’s explanation.  Cautiously, she opened her heart.  “You asked me where I’d like to live.  That’s where I’d like to live” and she pointed down to the twin of her own family home.

Quickly she re-gathered her thoughts.  “Down there is the place where I’d love to bring up our children, giving them a childhood such as I had.”

Slipping his arm around her waist Peter stared down at the homestead and he believed he could hear the tinkle of merry laughter as his children played around their home.  He could almost smell food cooking and the yells of boys and girls as they climbed the trees around the house.  Squeezing Jennifer, he returned to the present.

Anxious to see what could be his future home with Jennifer, Peter took control.

“Well let’s go, why are we wasting time talking?  Elizabeth, take the lead and see if you can lose Andrew.”

There was a rush back to the bikes and Andrew didn't wait for anyone but made his bike fly, retracing their tracks.  Not a foot behind him was Jennifer, who was determined to pass her brother.

At a long disused slip rail gate in a pitiful state of disrepair, they waited for the others to catch up.

"You're the apprentice, Peter,” Andrew laughed.  “So you open and close gates."  Andrew made certain he put Peter in his place.

Laughing to himself, Peter thought of the return trip, possibly through creeks.  He’d pay Andrew back in full.

The paddocks and the fences showed that the property was in a bad way.  There was an absence of livestock and the windmills looked rusted and unused.  The few dams he saw were overgrown with weeds and almost dry.

The overall picture was depressing.

The triple storied homestead seemed a twin for Jennifer’s home yet it was so much bigger and its condition showed that it had stood empty and unloved for years.

Peter mused that perhaps it was built by the same architect who had designed those thick stone walls and wide verandahs at Deep Springs.  Even the filigree cast iron lacework of the verandah rails seemed as though they had been cast at the same foundry.

No matter, Peter mused, the steps leading from the broad curved driveway to the tiled verandah gave the building a regal presence, welcoming them.

Not surprised that Eric had a key to the house, he waited for Jennifer to stand beside him.  Holding her hand, he followed the others up the flight of wide marble steps.

The house, although dusty and unkempt, had an aristocratic dignity – with an elegance that matched Jennifer’s home.  Peter’s mind raced into the future when the wide corridors and courtly rooms would be alive with the laughter of his children and the love of his family.

In some rooms, possums had made their homes and the floors were thick with dust.  The leadlight windows in some rooms were so badly weathered they would need replacing.

From the archway of the huge entry foyer, a wide curved marble staircase climbed to the second floor.  As they began the slow climb, Peter silently thanked the teaching brothers at his College for the painful lessons in architecture and the care they took with him hammering an appreciation of art and music into his thick head.

This was an Imperial staircase with divided flights. The first flight rose to a half-landing and he could see where it divided into two symmetrical flights both rising with an equal number of steps and turns to the second floor.  When they reached the top of the staircase Peter was astounded to find a ballroom complete with stage.

“This isn’t a farm house it’s a hotel.”  The imposing size of the ballroom, with its ornate high ceiling and floor to ceiling French Doors opening onto the wide balcony awed Peter.  The polished wooden floor appeared ready for a ball that same evening.

Downstairs the rooms were enormous and another curved staircase with twin silky oak banisters led upwards.  The corridors were so large that Andrew couldn’t resist teasing Jennifer once more.

“You could drive a horse and cart up and down these corridors.  Jennifer, you will have housewife’s knees and hands just keeping this place up to scratch.”

Peter grinned.  "Well I’ll always know where to find her!” he remarked, bringing gales of laughter from Eric and Andrew but silencing glares from the women.

“So your dream has been to raise your children here and work this property, eh?”  Peter stared at Jennifer as if demanding answers.  He added, “Would it become part of Blake and O'Brien Pastoral Company or remain Blake Pastoral Company?"

They continued their exploration of the wide corridors until they walked into what had been a formal dining room.  The only furniture remaining was the dining table that would easily seat sixty.

Peter noticed immediately and passed an unexpected comment.  "Jennifer you’re going to be busy!  I want to fill the chairs around that table with my children."

Jennifer punched his arm in reply and the others laughed.

Peter didn’t stop his queries at this point, and as Jennifer strolled through the big house discussing possible plans, his questions seemed endless until he paused to turn to Eric.

"Okay then, show us around the property."

They inspected the sheds, the dilapidated shearing shed, the shearers' quarters and the ruins of the stockmen’s homes.  Then slowly, they rode around the fence line, stopping occasionally for someone to pass an opinion or make an observation.

Peter’s comment. “There’s enough old machinery lying about to start a museum,” brought laughter from Andrew.

“Got some of my own,” was Eric’s contribution to the conversation.

Question after question tumbled from Peter's lips.  "Would you, Elizabeth, be interested in helping Jennifer furnish this house until it’s as beautiful as yours?

“What machinery would be required to run this place?

“Why are there so many windmills in many of the paddocks?

“Would this property, combined with yours, become viable as a moneymaking venture or be too large to manage successfully?

“How many stockmen or farm hands would we need?  The workers' accommodation needs lots of rebuilding - what would be the cost?

“What about house servants?

“As primary producers, what government grants could we expect?"

The family did their best to supply accurate answers.

Peter was pleased to note they were all prepared to say, "We don't know but we’ll find out," when they couldn’t supply any information.

As the grand tour ended and Eric and Elizabeth were answering the final questions, Peter still hadn’t forgotten his childish little game with Andrew.

Once again, on their bikes, the family’s return trip to their home was an opportunity to pay Andrew some of his own.  Peter dropped back a little until Andrew was half way across the deepest creek, then on one wheel, Peter bulleted through the water almost drowning Andrew and his bike.

"Just getting even for Jennifer and I’m not the apprentice," he called back as he raced up the creek bank.

Back in the family kitchen for a very late lunch, Peter made a request.

"As soon as lunch is over, Eric, would you be happy to ride with Andrew and me into town, where I guess I might find the agent for the property?

Turning away from Eric, he took Jennifer’s hand.

“Jennifer, would you like a special wedding present that you and I are giving each other?  I won’t try to surprise you.  I would like to purchase the property for us.”

Peter almost fell off his chair as Jennifer leapt into his arms.

“I must be the luckiest girl alive to have you as my soon-to-be-husband.  Together we’ll work to make Rocky Springs a home as happy as this one has been all my life.”

Regretfully, Peter slowly disentangled himself from her arms.

“We men have some business to attend to and then we’re going for a few celebratory drinks.  When we return Jennifer will know where and when we’ll be setting up our house."

The meal passed noisily, with the women talking wedding dresses, engagement rings and Christmas while the men argued about builders, fences and stock.

Immediately after lunch, Jennifer gave Peter a nod and he led the men out to their bikes.  The women were about to organize Andrew’s Christmas surprise.

The stock and station agent was delighted to get the property sold even though Peter drove a hard bargain.  As Andrew and Eric Blake accompanied this stranger, the deal was soon clinched and the amazing offer of instant payment by credit card was beyond the agent’s experience.

In the hotel, Peter was surprised to see a huge circle chalked out on the floor with all the drinkers gathered around.  The publican poured a bucket of yabbies – freshwater crayfish – into the center and the yabby race had started.  Amused by the antics and surprised to see bets being taken Peter sidled up to Andrew and asked, “What’s happening?”

“Oh they’re holding yabby races and the bookmaker gives 50% of all bets to the local hospital.  The winning yabbies are set free to breed bigger and better yabbies and the slow ones are eaten.”

Eric, Andrew and Peter watched, fascinated by the gamblers and the glee they showed when their yabby won.

When the cooked losers arrived, everyone gathered around to join in the feast.

Peter told the publican that all drinks while he was there were free.  He was prepared to shout everyone at the bar.  Surprised that this city slicker was so generous the locals were nevertheless amused that he only drank fresh lime and soda.  Yet his bearing told them he could be a formidable opponent.

When Eric announced that Peter was about to become his son, the locals crowded around to slap Peter’s back and congratulate him.

“You’re a lucky man – she was my first girlfriend in kindergarten,” said a walking mountain of a man whose nickname was Tiny.

Blue, a redheaded local, added his bit.  “Remember when she used to race us on our motor bikes and we couldn’t catch her.  We were stupid enough at the age of 10 to tell her we’d kiss her if we caught her.  Never did – pity!”

The bar was a noisy, friendly hum of humanity as Eric, Andrew and Peter left but not before the agent had arrived to hand the deeds of the property to Peter.  Bearing in mind Peter’s way of doing business, he’d hurried the transaction through the usually slow processes, using one of his lawyer associates.

He remembered Peter’s earlier words.  “I don’t think I need a lawyer for the transaction as I’m marrying one.  Besides you wouldn’t be foolish enough to risk losing Blake Pastoral Company as a client,” The Agent was surprised at the outset but when Peter had continued, “No-one could be so foolish as to try cheating me,” his blood ran cold.

Something about this man signaled danger.

Back home, Peter walked up behind Jennifer who was engrossed in dress patterns and fingering samples of wedding materials.  Leaning over and kissing her on the hair, he broke the news that they were now property owners.

Champagne flowed and everyone was delighted that plans for their future were in place.

The days seemed to fly and Peter was surprised when Jennifer announced, “Christmas Eve is tomorrow.  We’re all off to town tomorrow, or else Santa will have no presents to deliver.  Early to bed tonight so we can keep ahead of Santa."

Of course, Peter knew of Christmas but it was just a word to him.  He had not celebrated it since he was a little boy in Penang.  His thoughts whirled through his emotions of living in strange cultures but this Christmas event was suddenly so full of love, commitment and warmth that he was determined to follow the family’s lead.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 19



The whole idea of Christmas was so foreign to him that he felt he was on another planet.

In Melbourne the next day, Peter caught Jennifer repeatedly fingering her engagement ring and studying it with a warm smile wreathing her face in sunshine.

It seemed as though everyone knew these two young people were recently engaged.

Very quickly, Peter lost track of all the purchases and was glad that Andrew had parked in a central location.  This made the trips short and it was easy to load the boot with the packages.

Neither Jennifer nor Peter was tired when late on Christmas Eve they arrived back, laden with presents.  While unloading the car he believed they’d purchased gifts for everyone in the State.

At last, Peter began to appreciate the meaning of Christmas and Santa.  Of course, he was really only interested in two small purchases, which he had hidden deep in his pocket.

It was not until the family had finished dinner and trooped into the lounge room that any mention was made of the day in town.  The focal point of the room was a huge Christmas Tree festooned with decorations glittering and reflecting the light of a few candles.

There followed a Christmas Eve family party of singing and dancing that flowed into the night until Elizabeth reminded them that it was almost Christmas Day.

"All of you go off to bed."  No one moved, so she pushed and shoved each one out.  "If you're not in bed soon and asleep, Santa won't leave you any presents.  Besides we have church tomorrow."

As she spoke, she hung clearly labeled pillowslips under the tree, but she ignored Andrew’s advice.

"Put two out for me.  I've ordered a couple of blondes."

With her arm around Peter, Jennifer walked to his room where they unpacked their purchases on Peter’s bed before carefully wrapping them in pretty Christmas Paper.  Peter was sure they had bought presents for an army.  There were so many presents and he recognized only a few names.

When they had finished, Jennifer led the way, creeping back to the Christmas Tree where they placed parcels in all the pillowslips but theirs.  Where the pillowslips were full, she piled the remaining presents under the tree.

Their job completed, they tiptoed back to Peter's room where they lay on the bed where cuddling and talking into the early morning, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

It was daylight before they stirred and Jennifer immediately sprang up.  She bent over to kiss Peter before quickly dancing out of his reach.

"Hurry!  Get dressed for church because you won’t have time to come back here.  Meet me at the Christmas Tree because Andrew won't wait for anyone.  If you are late he’ll open your presents too."

She paused at the door to add, "Merry Christmas, darling." before rushing off.

The urgency of her voice made Peter rush.

He felt foolish standing alone in front of the tree but at least he was able to slip two small packages into Jennifer's pillowslip.

"I saw that!"  Peter jumped at Andrew's warm chuckle.  "Feeling for what surprises Santa left you, eh?  As far as I could see, you got your present last night.  I saw the both of you together, asleep like babes this morning.  Absolutely sickening it was."

Slapping Peter on the back, he laughed.  "I can't understand what you see in Sis," then quickly added, "Don't worry I won't tell Mum."

"Won't tell Mum, what?"  A beautiful vision in a jade green flared skirt with a matching blouse that dipped low enough the reveal the swell of her breasts appeared.  Jennifer had arrived.

"Close your mouth Peter, don't look so surprised."  She whirled around and around until her skirt rose.  "Like what you see eh?"

Further discussion was impossible as Elizabeth and Eric swept into the room, "Won't tell Mum, what?"

They all joined in what was obviously the commencement of a family ritual of opening parcels.  Each family member had to open a present in turn and wait for the next to open a present.

Santa had been very generous even to Peter.

Amongst the parcels was something very special.  Obviously, Jennifer had done some extraordinary shopping for him.  An expensive gold watch had a little card attached:  'You've no excuse to be late for our special date'.

Jennifer had been very careful when taking her presents from the slip and Peter wondered what had happened to the two special parcels he had slid into her pillowslip, as they hadn't appeared.  All the slips were empty and they were sitting in a sea of wrapping paper when Jennifer moved to sit in Peter's lap, clutching the two small packages.

"I wonder what's in these.  I must have behaved very well this year.  Santa’s left me something special - besides Peter."

Her family excitedly watched her.

Carefully, she un-wrapped the first layer of paper and the card, 'My Love'.  She removed even more tissue paper until she opened the box that had lain hidden in all the Christmas wrapping.  Unbelieving, she stared at the single emerald pendant hanging from its white gold chain, then held it out for everyone to see.

Elizabeth gasped.  "That matches your engagement ring.  Isn't it beautiful?"

Peter barely heard her as Jennifer was kissing him and his hands wanted to wander.

The kiss didn't last long as she couldn't wait to unwrap the other present.  This time the card read, ‘These are but poor additions to your beauty.  My heart is with you always.’

Underneath Peter had drawn a crude Santa head.  Holding the earrings to her ears, Jennifer could only shake her head and look at Peter

"My God," Andrew whistled, "Jennifer isn't only marrying into money but this mad Irishman has taste.  Well done, Sis."

"Peter, could you?”  Jennifer held out the earrings for Peter to place in her earlobes.

Elizabeth helped when Peter pleaded that he was useless.  She also hung the necklace around Jennifer's neck.

"Peter you really have given Jennifer something to treasure forever," she said warmly.

"Not me – Santa.  The silly old fool's gone mad.  He's got an eye for pretty young girls this year."  Vainly, Peter tried to relieve his embarrassment.

Laughing, Jennifer flung herself into his arms.

"Bring me a mirror someone,” she called out.  “I want to see how I look."

Two small matching emeralds gleamed from her ears, and the lustre of the stone on her neck highlighted the soft white of her skin.  However, these only emphasized the beauty of the emerald surrounded by the diamonds, which glittered on her finger informing the world of Peter's love.

The gifts were perfect, complimenting the color of her eyes.  Peter was satisfied.

Not so satisfied was Andrew.

"I've been very, very good this year.  I asked for a couple of blondes and the old bugger didn't listen.  I suppose he keeps them all to himself, the randy bastard."  Andrew sounded petulant.

Peter just grinned as his arm slid around Jennifer's waist.

"Well perhaps you haven't been as good as me.  Look what Santa's given me."  He leaned down and kissed Jennifer tenderly.

"But I have been good - so very good."  Andrew was determined to have his say.

Peter looked as though he was losing patience.  Squeezing Jennifer, he laughed as he gave the directions.  “Stamp three times and say ‘I am a good boy, I am a good boy, I am a good boy’.  Perhaps Santa will hear you.  Do all that correctly and maybe Santa’s Christmas magic will still work."

To join in the fun Andrew did as directed.  Instantly the double doors flew open and two blondes stood, arms outstretched.

The family roared with laughter at the look on Andrew's face.  For once, he was lost for words.

Still laughing, Jennifer shook him from his stupor.

"There's no need to un-wrap these presents.  Peter did that earlier for you as he thought he'd save you the trouble."

Her grin was wicked.

"Now," she produced two pillowslips from behind a chair, "welcome your two 'presents' and help them with their gifts from Santa."

There was no need to introduce the two ballerinas to anyone other than Andrew.

It had been Jennifer who had plotted this escapade with Peter.  Her parents had willingly joined in.  While the men had gone to town to negotiate the purchase of Rocky Springs, the women had driven off in a different direction to the local airport to collect the two girls – the same ones Jennifer had seen doing that Dance of the Little Swans the night she met Peter.

The family trooped off to breakfast with Andrew still speechless and the two ballerinas clutching his arm, making him feel even more embarrassed.

"What's wrong, Andrew?”  Peter couldn't stop teasing.  "You were going to tell your mother something earlier.  Are you having a loss of memory?

“Jennifer?  Is this your brother?  Is this the one who's spent all the time teasing you since I arrived?"

The girls joined in the fun.

Peter turned to Andrew.  "Now smarty, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Marissa and Nicolette - the two 'presents', laughed as loudly as the family.

When Peter and Jennifer had approached them to arrange the 'Santa Surprise’, they had entered into the spirit of Christmas, adding their own ideas to the scene.

Andrew glared at Peter.  If ever anyone had bettered him, Peter had certainly done so this time.  However, with a beautiful girl either side of him, he was shy, unable to make the most of being the victim of this joke.

Slowly he began to speak as his arms stole around each girl.  "I’ll never be bad again - but – I’ll get even with you and Sis somehow."

Jennifer giggled, "You can try brother, you can try.  However, keep in mind that you’re dealing with the master of surprises here."  She patted Peter's hand.

It was time for church.  Half an hour later, their two cars arrived at the huge country cathedral.  When the family together with the two girls hanging on Andrew's arms made their way to their pew, a buzz rippled around the church.

The celebration of the special birth was an occasion for joy and the carols lived for Peter.  Having Jennifer beside him made his heart respond with such elation that he knew he was glowing with pride.

After greeting the parishioners and the Bishop, the introductions to Jennifer's relatives didn't worry him.  Peter wasn't even tongue-tied, finding Jennifer's arm through his enough to give him confidence.

Jennifer enjoyed showing off her ring and her new jewelry, but slowly Peter began to realize she was getting more enjoyment from parading him.  Even the banter from the local young men didn't worry him.

"Hey, Jennifer I carried your books at school!"

"Why didn’t you shop at home for a husband?  Plenty of us here who'd marry you."

Peter just laughed with Jennifer and held her a little more tightly.

Even Andrew received his fair share of teasing by his mates.  "Hey Andrew, spare one for me you greedy bugger."

"So you do believe in Santa after all, eh?  God, I'm converting now."

Then one became a little reckless.

"Andrew - tonight, don't pray hard to be good, just pray to be hard.  The girls will look after the good."

The family groaned, but Nicolette and Marissa laughed as loudly as others who heard and weren't the least embarrassed, but Nicolette got the better of him.

"It's obvious there is no point in you saying prayers, unless you pray for something to get hard with."

The resulting explosion of mirth was even louder than before.  If Andrew's friends thought they could embarrass the two dainty ballerinas, they were mistaken

The Australian summer heat was stifling, but in the house, the thick walls of stone and the air conditioning kept the heat at bay.

Quickly the house filled with visitors and the women in the traditional Australian country fashion gravitated to the kitchen.  Their men folk, following behind, carried baskets of food.  The ovens were soon full and rich smells were wafting out onto the verandahs where tables had been set up to seat all the guests.

It was a traditional Christmas Dinner where the extended family of friends and relatives pitched in welcoming Peter.  

The festive occasion was a rousing success.

Until he sat with Jennifer, Peter didn't realize how large Jennifer's family was.  He tried counting the aunts, uncles and cousins until he finally gave up and just concentrated on talking to Jennifer.  He noted it was no use trying to talk to Andrew.  He was far too busy trying to impress his two 'Christmas Presents'.

Later that night, the summer heat had abated.  Andrew took his two visitors out into the warm summer night, with Peter and Jennifer following.  Standing under the gum trees with the heavy scent of eucalyptus hanging in the air, Peter drew Jennifer's head to his chest and paused to reconsider his life.  He realized it had changed and would never be the same again.  With his arms around the woman he loved, he knew he now had a special person to care for.

The lone wolf of his past had faded into the shadows, never to return.

He had a family! 



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 20



Towards the end of January, Peter returned to his workshop with Jennifer on his arm.

Joe noticed the change in Jennifer and the ring on her finger. Smiling broadly, he bellowed his welcome for all to hear.

"So here's the blushing bride-to-be! I'm very pleased for the two of you."

Dragging Jennifer from the office, he took her into the workshop where he spread the news.

It wasn't long before Bob and Ted arrived. They weren't surprised when Joe broke the news of the engagement by returning Jennifer to the office to flash her engagement ring at them. It was obvious to all that she was wearing Peter's ring with much pride.

"We wondered when you'd get around to it."

Ted began questioning. "When's the happy day? Where are you going to live?"

"You'll have to change your wicked ways, Peter," Bob commented. "How about bequeathing me your little black book? There should be plenty of blondes in it, but I doubt if there are any redheads."

Not in the least embarrassed by the friendly banter, Jennifer was content to feel Peter's body against hers as she clung to his arm.

Ted agreed to become Peter's best man and Bob was delighted to be a groomsman.

"The wedding will be held at Jennifer's family's church, a cathedral near Jennifer's home, so there'll be a party of us flying down to Melbourne on Easter Sunday afternoon. There'll be the two of you and your partners."

Seeing the crestfallen look on Joe's face, he grinned.

"Joe, ring Maria immediately and tell her I'm taking the two of you, these two ruffians and their poor partners with all expenses paid. Mark, ring your wife as we're inviting the two of you as well. The Sydney contingent will make a plane load."

Ignoring Ted's startled look he continued.

"Now to find Susie and her husband because we're inviting them too."

Bob smiled broadly. "I've some news for you. Since you abandoned us here, I've been headhunted to become the Manager of the Lexus Dealership down the road.

"I don't know how it happened but since taking up the position I have worked nonstop. Yet I am enjoying the 24/7 week. Every day brings a new set of challenges and, well, I am thriving on it.

"I'll even arrange to take you for a test drive if you have the money." His laughter showed that under the new businessman the old Bob was still alive and well.

"And your ex-customer, the blonde Susie - well, she spends her day running between the BMW Dealership next door and the Motel alongside my Lexus Dealership. Her husband, The Commander - as we call him - has retired from the RAN. He's now the manager of the BMW Dealership. Susie is the manageress of the motel up the road.

"There have been some big changes while you were away - oh, and yes - Ted's gone up in the world." Bob's eyes just did not stop twinkling. "He's gone up all right! Top floor management and he's now the auditor for your workshop, the BMW Dealership, my dealership and the motel. I think there's been a takeover."

Peter couldn't help smiling at how Bob kept saying, 'My dealership' and was especially pleased at how his plans had worked out.

Remembering some more news, Bob added, "How much longer Susie will be running the motel, I can't guess, as she's pregnant - so she's constantly reminding us."

Further conversation was impossible. A whirlwind of noise hit the office. Susie had arrived, ignoring the men and going straight to Jennifer to hold her left hand, making all the appropriate female noises of appreciation over the engagement and the ring.

"Women!" Peter mused, astounded that the two of them hugged, and cried, and laughed, and sobbed without pausing for breath. Finally, he called a halt. "Susie, you're invited to our wedding on Easter Monday in Victoria. Yes, don't look so surprised. You and Bill are invited - all flights and accommodation - everything's arranged.

"Jennifer will be taking all the women in our Sydney contingent shopping for new outfits at my expense. This tightwad is opening his wallet and letting the moths out. Jennifer will also be taking the men from the bridal party Ted, Bob and Andrew to get them dressed in something she chooses. We can't have them turning up in overalls and gumboots!"

Peter breathed a sigh of relief that thankfully no one thought of asking why he wasn't included in the outing to purchase suitable men's clothing.

"The trip and the clothes are at my expense as a thank you for your support and consideration since I arrived in Australia. You have all had a lot to put up with but in spite of that, you remain my friends, so now I say thanks."

With a sly look at Ted, Peter chuckled. "Besides, I'll make Ted think up all kinds of reasons why these expenses are to be paid by the taxation department."

Ted almost choked.

Everyone wanted to say something, all at the same time and the noise was horrific. Objections to Peter paying, pleasure at being invited, congratulations to the engaged couple -- everyone had something to say.

Peter overrode the bedlam.

"Stop! Listen all of you. Jennifer and I want no arguments. Susie, do you remember your advice to me? 'Get in there and fight. Jennifer is worth fighting for.' Well I fought and won - and I will keep fighting for her until the day I die."

Holding Jennifer very tightly, he looked at them all.

"Your official invitations will arrive soon, and I'd like you to note that there'll be no wedding presents. Absolutely none! Not one for heaven's sake. Instead, we'll be very pleased if some of you donate to the Westmead Hospital Children's Cancer Appeal. Certain companies have agreed to match the donations so that perhaps children will eventually be free of this dreadful scourge. The Victorian and New South Wales Branches of the appeal will split all donations.

"Don't look so surprised, Bob. What can anyone give me when I have Jennifer?" Peter dipped his head to brush his lips gently across her cheek.

With a wink and a sly glance at Jennifer, he turned to Bob and Ted.

"By the way, there's the matter of a small bet you two have lost."

Later, when all the commotion had ceased and everyone had returned to their jobs, Ted dragged Peter outside to point at a Chinese sign high up under the eaves where it was visible to all the passing traffic on the main road.

"That appeared just after you left for Melbourne, and no matter what we do to paint it over, the following morning it re-appears.

"Since it first appeared the shop's been flat out, not to mention the number of BMW's sold, and Bob's had a field day with his Lexus shop. Susie's motel is constantly booked out.

"Frankly, it's strange as the clients - the customers - have been Chinese, Malays and Thais, not to mention the number of Indians. Moreover, we're all considering taking up language courses, and boy can they drink. We daren't take them to the pub, as we're the ones under the table. They have hollow legs. The only one able to stay with them is the Commander."

Looking even more serious, he added, "And there's a greater problem - Security. Some goons bailed Mark up in the office demanding protection money, threatening that if they weren't paid a monthly commission there would be a lot of damage done. Any suggestions?"

Amused, Peter could only chortle at Ted's concern.

"You and Bob met your match in the pub eh? Moreover, some people want to argue with us - pick a fight so to speak. Well, we'll just have to start our own security company. I believe I know how to get the men who'll fit the bill. No need to worry, I'll look after the problem. And leave that sign there, okay?"

Inside the office, the women were still talking - almost breathlessly - certainly in a manner than meant the men weren't to listen - dresses, materials and babies.

Enduring their chatter for a while and Realizing how long he had to wait for the wedding, Peter changed the topic.

"Now about racing... I have a few ideas..."

The women laughed.

Within days Peter had discussed security with the Commander who promptly employed ex-Special Forces personnel, and Susie had them all fitted out in most stylish of uniforms. Their new security company was off to a good start.

Nothing further was heard from the bullyboys and Peter was relaxing in the office when the words, "Hey you, Scarface! Where's the Boss?" He snapped his eyes up from the accounts.

The bloated toad was leaning on the counter, his bushy black eyebrows crawling over his dark sunglasses and his black hair greased into place.

Not once since leaving Sydney and being with Jennifer's family had Peter given the scar a thought. Fingering his scar, he growled his answer. "You're talking to him."

Sweeping his glasses off to poke them into Peter's chest, the toad demanded, "You're to fix my car and fix it good."

"Sorry, we're too busy to take another car."

Ted's words had jumped into Peter's brain. 'That's business you don't want.' Besides, the toad's arrogance only made Peter angry as he swept the sunglasses out of his chest.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me. I want my car fixed," the toad insisted, poking Peter in the chest again to emphasize his point. "And fixed good."

He waddled into the street, his wobbling paunch leading the way, and unfortunately, Peter followed him. A shiny black Mercedes was in the driveway, its front bumper crumpled and one headlight smashed.

Peter didn't need the work and the insurance assessor would have a fit when he called to check the quote. Across the street in a similar car sat two men, watching Peter as he wondered if they were friends of the toad. He shrugged off the thought and began writing out a quote.

"Forget the paper work." The toad's words lashed out at him.

"The insurance company..."

"This is a cash job and I want the car finished by tomorrow afternoon." He would accept no argument as he rained money onto the car bonnet like confetti at a wedding. The man had become impatient and turned to leave.

"Four thousand dollars - that should cover it."

The green mini flashing past him into the workshop took his eyes as he continued.

"Don't worry. In my stable I have plenty of ponies only too happy to earn it back."

"I can't..."

The man's face contorted into a mask of hatred and fury as he whirled on Peter, waving a clenched fist under Peter's nose.

"That car will be ready at 4.30 tomorrow or you'll have no workshop."

He turned away just as Jennifer alighted from her car. Her skirt flew high as it caught in the breeze and her long legs drew the man's attention. An astonishing look of unbridled lust flashed across his features - a look he didn't bother to conceal. He licked his lips.

"Who's the red-headed tart?" he asked.

He didn't notice Peter's look of revulsion and didn't recoil from his rage.

"That's my fiancée."

"She'll make a good pony," he remarked. "A very expensive pony to ride once she's broken in," he called over his shoulder as he waddled across to the other car. The passenger door flew open and Peter recognized the driver as Pretty Boy.

"Everything all right, Boss?"

Pretty Boy's voice was high pitched and Peter wondered about his sex.

"Oh, yes, as usual." The fat man's braying laugh floated through the open car window as they drove off.

Waving, Jennifer rushed off to confer with Susie, leaving Peter to grin happily at how the women's friendship had flourished.

He wheeled the Merc into the workshop where, much to Joe's horror, Peter demanded that work start immediately on the vehicle.

Within a few minutes, Joe was back.

"What's going on?" he asked. "There's a revolver strapped to the steering column on that car. I feel bad about this job. There's something wrong about it. Why did you take it on? Shouldn't we just refuse to take it?"

Joe seemed angry and so ill at ease that Peter wondered whether to push the car into the street and leave it, but the toad's threat sat heavily on his mind.

He explained the confrontation with the Toad while Joe listened thoughtfully. Suddenly realizing the significance of the 'ponies' comment, Peter suddenly felt nauseous and began to heave, particularly as the bastard had mentioned Jennifer in that guise.

"That bugger's bad, very bad." Was Joe's opinion and his face told Peter how serious he was. "We'll work on the car together and get it out of the way."

He gripped Peter's shoulders with a fierce intensity that matched the repugnance in his voice.

"Men like him forced my father out of business and made him get out of Sicily, only to kill him when he established himself here." Then his eyes clouded with loathing and his voice hardened in anger. "If this bastard wants a fight then he's got one."

Later that day, after the workshop had closed and they were alone, Joe and Peter examined the car carefully.

"Look at this Peter. Don't you think this is rather odd?"

Grunting at the weight, Joe took the spare wheel from the boot.

"There's no way of pumping up the tire. The nipple hole is filled with putty and the wheel is far too heavy."

"Strange, but look at this, too," Peter answered.

Cradled in his hands was the revolver that had been strapped under the steering column. On one side of the handgrip were the outspread wings of an eagle and the swastika emblem of Nazi Germany. Along the blunt barrel was stamped P38. Its gunmetal grey with the black grips gave it a powerful malevolency.

"I've seen pictures of those. It was German Army issue - a Walter P38." Joe's terse comments were terse. "He's not carrying that around for fun. It would blow a tidy hole in anyone. For God's sake put it back before the damn thing goes off."

"I wonder if he'd miss a few little cartridges." Musing, Peter released the safety catch and opened the breech. "You work on the car while I do some adjustments to this gun."

"Get rid of the damn thing." Joe was worried. "For God's sake put it back and wipe your prints off it."

With his mind elsewhere, Peter didn't reply but wandered across to the workbench where he became engrossed in working on the gun, gripped tightly in a vice.

The glare of a welding flame caught Joe's attention but he turned away to return to the car. He didn't see Peter remove three cartridges from the magazine.

Carefully Peter pulled the bullets from the cartridges and tossed them into the waste bin. He poured the gunpowder from the three cartridges into the now cooled barrel. Next, he deliberately cut the primers from their casings, removed the rims and pushed them up hard against the gunpowder. He worked with such practiced and considerate ease that to an onlooker it would have seemed he had been constructing booby traps all his life.

With the gun in his hand, Peter wandered back to Joe.

"There, that'll give Mr. Toad a surprise when he pulls the trigger. Dad, take the shocked look off your face. Anyone who pulls that trigger will blow his own hand off. Toad will be laughing for weeks at our little joke."

He returned the P38 to its hiding place under the steering column.

Joe had an idea of his own.

"You've prepared a surprise - well I think I will have to add to this lucky dip. I'm convinced we're going to have some trouble with this bloke so I'll add some surprises too."

Without waiting for Peter's approval, Joe strained to release the tire from the rim. Inside were small packets of white powder tightly packed to keep the tire in shape.

"Surely, we have a tube that will fit." Joe paused to think. "No, I believe we have a complete wheel with the same tire in the storeroom." Off Joe went, mumbling quietly to himself then returned, rolling a wheel in front of him. "This should do."

Not knowing what Joe planned, Peter was still willing to follow his lead. This criminal had troubled Peter with his comment about Jennifer. He was angry, determined not to stand back. The Toad would never ride rough shod over Jennifer or over him.

They replaced the spare wheel with the new one and slammed the boot lid shut before Peter realized he had only the key to the ignition. "How did you open the boot, Joe? The interior switch to open the boot doesn't work and we've only the ignition key? Where's the key?"

"That job was just so easy and I didn't even force the lock. I was a bad boy when I was young until my father kicked some sense into me." Joe grinned.

He took the keys from the ignition. "This key doesn't fit, so he won't attach the loss of the drugs to us. This second key must be a house key although I've never seen one like it before." The key was the shape of a raging bull, its phallus erect and serrated. Obviously, the phallus opened a lock.

"I think I had better put my long unused skills to work. I'm sure my father would forgive me."

Joe took the key and began to make a cast of it - obviously determined to make a copy. For two hours, he worked while Peter finished the car. Eventually he handed Peter the original key while the duplicate was soon on the key ring.

Together they hid the wheel containing the drugs and, at last satisfied they had left nothing to chance, the two locked up.

Late the next day 'Pretty Boy' collected the car. Obviously, in a hurry, he gave the repairs a cursory glance before driving off without a word.

February crawled into March and Peter spent every available minute with Jennifer. They were inseparable. Some weekends they were back with her parents where the men planned the reception only to have their plans repeatedly overturned by new demands from the women.

While sitting in Peter's apartment one evening, watching the ferries glide past, he raised the topic of their honeymoon.

"I don't mind where we go," remarked Jennifer happily. "I haven't given that a thought."

"Well," Peter seemed reluctant to voice his thoughts, "I mentioned that I will be in uniform. My regiment demanded that they honor me and welcome my bride. I have two further commitments and I would love to meet those commitments as soon as possible after our wedding. My Indian father and Chinese father want to meet you and have asked that we go to Singapore and Malaysia.

"Sweetheart, I would love to visit them. I need to say thanks to them for all their help while I was growing up. Their support helped forge me into the person here today, holding your hand." Smiling Peter reached for Jennifer and squeezed her hand. He waited for her reaction, hoping she would like the idea.

"Oh, I know the real reason why you want to go to the east. It's all the food and all the chilies." Jennifer laughed.

Peter smiled gently.

"No, really - that's not all. I'd actually like to settle the ghosts of my past and show you the east I know." Peter was doing his best to sell the idea.

Smiling, Jennifer studied him. Seeing his serious face, she laughed and decided to put him out of his misery. "Well I suppose it is better than the honeymoon the secretaries at work were telling me I'd get."

"What was that?" Peter was interested.

"A study tour of bedroom ceilings," and Jennifer laughed at the shocked look on his face.

The days ground on unremittingly.

Occasionally they stayed for a week with her parents as Jennifer and her mother wanted to go shopping for furniture and furnishings for the new home.

The fact that Peter drove them and helped in the decision making made the purchasing all the more pleasant as she basked in the warmth of his presence and was amazed how patient he was.

On one occasion, Peter took the initiative. Surprised by his sudden interest, she was embarrassed when Peter dragged her into a furniture shop and stood beside a king sized bed, demanding they try it out before purchasing it.

The grey-haired salesman only laughed.

"He'll get his comeuppance when you get him home. They're all the same these young men. Take him home and beat some sense into him."

At times, the women took themselves off to town while the men went to Rocky Springs to inspect the work on the Main House. With the assistance of an interior decorator, eventually the furniture and furnishings were in place and the property was becoming a vibrantly alive center for the surrounding paddocks and scrub.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 20



The roof had been repaired, ceilings were restored and without altering the character of the mansion the building was modernized. The grand old mansion was gaining a new life.

However days were also occupied with meetings. Either company accountants or solicitors demanded their time in finalizing the changed requirements for Blake Pastoral.

At a combined meeting of the family, solicitor and accountant the topic was the direction the company was take. Eric and Andrew, being graziers, wanted to improve the quality of the herd and flock by introducing new high-grade stud bulls and rams. Peter the engineer had his own plans to diversify the business.

His thoughts astonished them, forcing the family to rethink their priorities. The engineer, in Peter, was thinking beyond the farming side of the business and wanted to expand into other fields that would prove just as lucrative. He was looking far into the future.

Peter started tentatively. "I believe my proposals could make Blake Pastoral a world leader meaning we must look beyond the animals and the land."

Looking at each member of the family, he could see the puzzlement in their eyes. Slowly he continued.

"There are two financial areas which always have money and can always generate money -- Government and Education. Therefore I propose..." and he handed each person a page of notes to peruse.

1.On the highest points of Rocky Springs, we build a series of wind turbines to generate electricity to sell back into the grid.

2.We build pigpens at the Forestry end of Rocky Springs to cultivate the European market for pig meat using wild boars.

3.We examine water harvesting, to develop the water resources available to us through the natural springs on both properties. At the same time, we put in place water re-cycling.

4.We convert the shearing shed on Rocky Springs to a motel and conference center using expertise from Melbourne University and the University of Technology Sydney. Possibly a co-operative venture but that is not certain until we investigate further.

5.We extend the shearing shed on Deep Springs to cope with the rise in the number of sheep in the flock.

6.We build a village for our workers -- complete with a cottage hospital.

7.We purchase a tourist coach for the transport of guests and students.

8.We acquire a small helicopter for speedy transport to and from Melbourne or from the local airport or for use on the properties.

9.We establish Blake's Internet Service Provider using satellite communications and extend that service to the nearby town. We will connect local schools and the pupils will have their own terminal.

Patiently Peter waited while they had read his propositions.

After a long period of silence as they tried to digest these proposals Elizabeth asked, "Where will the money come from? This is a massive undertaking. Is it necessary to expand like this? I love our farm and the farm life and these proposals will mean a huge change that I'm not sure we can handle."

Eric took control, aided by Andrew. "Just to run the two properties we will need at least 30 stockmen. Wages, accommodation and food will be a huge commitment without considering the computer work and staff for a village hospital. A motel and lecture rooms are pushing things a long way. Where will we get lecturers?

"A tourist coach would cost over $500,000 and would it get full use?

"A chopper? Peter, the next thing you'll want will be an aircraft carrier for the creek." Eric did not seem impressed.

Andrew chipped in, "Blake Pastoral is to become an ISP provider when Mum and Dad can't spell computer let alone use one." His chuckle and Jennifer's tinkling giggle defused the situation.

Laughing, Jennifer added her comments. "You're mad! We'll be out of water in a week. This place - this motel - will soak up water and no one will want to wash in a shaving mug. Water is a never-ending problem on country properties.

"When I was a girl growing up I wanted to become a pilot and now I have a chance!"

Peter wouldn't allow the others to push his ideas aside. "Income will come from two outside agencies. One is the government in the form of government grants. The other source could be universities if we can sell the idea of advancing green renewable power and water harvesting in partnership with their research and development departments.

"Workers will be no problems as I have lots of friends -- some of whom you met at the Deepavali Party. Amongst them are communication experts and medical personnel. There are also a couple of chopper pilots. They would be delighted to bring their families here and settle.

Without waiting for a comment, grinning, he proceeded, "There is one thing you have not considered in all this." He looked at the startled faces then smiled.

"Security! We are entering an area of gigantic business interests and it will be a dog eat dog situation. Security of the property and the local schools will be important.

More questions flowed and hours later, they agreed to have more meetings to discuss all the proposals.

In the meantime, the accountant was to investigate the feasibility of government grants and university assistance while the solicitor was to investigate the laws regarding electricity generation and water harvesting.

In the weeks following that initial discussion of plans for Blake Pastoral they all met at the accountants to discuss further developments

Jennifer spent nights with Peter, poring over pamphlets and brochures of Singapore, Kuala Lumpur and Penang as the plans for their honeymoon slowly took shape.

It was on such a night that Jennifer made an announcement. The revelation seemed almost an afterthought. However, the twinkle in her eyes said otherwise. "Well Mr. Smarty, ye of all the surprises, when you are booking seats for people to fly to Melbourne, book three seats for the week before the wedding."

Peter's surprised look told it all.

"Susie has agreed to be my Matron of Honor. Karen and Ruth will be my bridesmaids and they are all flying down to support me for the week prior to the wedding. Susie will be organizing a hen's night and we will all be busy -- hair facials, manicures, dresses the lot.

"Stop looking so shocked Peter. Remember I have spies to keep an eye on you at your buck's night, so you'd better behave.

Peter was too bewildered to answer.

When planning the guest list and the reception, both Eric and Andrew were stunned when Peter explained who would be amongst his guests. They were certainly surprised when he asked that they send a number of invitations overseas.

Where Peter had once hoped they could slink away, elope and be themselves, he found himself with Eric and Andrew planning the catering and arranging for 400. Food, drink and photographers had to be organized and most important of all, a venue.

One morning at Deep Springs when breakfast was over Peter drove Jennifer to Rocky Springs.

Down the wide corridor, they walked to the rear of their future home.

Knowing the interior decorators had installed their special office furniture, Jennifer was not the least surprised to hear Peter's announcement. "I've commandeered a room as my office. If it doesn't suit your plans I'll move elsewhere, but please allow me to work close to you."

He opened a door.

"I know this is the room you wanted for your office, your private place and I'll only enter when invited." Taking her hand, he led her back into the corridor. "Come to my office which I've had furnished. We need to discuss the future.

"We've been so busy - you with the wedding and your job with the Insurance Company and me with the workshop in Sydney - that we really haven't had time to consider what we plan doing.

"I definitely need to hear your ideas. What do you want out of this marriage, because frankly I'm terrified of looking after you successfully? I'm so scared of failing."

Taking Peter's hand, Jennifer led him across to the leather sofa making him sit. While perched on his lap she put her arm around his shoulders.

He eased back eyes closed, knowing his priorities for life were already set. There was only one priority in his mind, Jennifer and his much-anticipated family.

Silently he contemplated the future. I'll cherish our children and make their life as secure as possible. What else will matter? My family, and with God's blessing this woman, whom I love so much, will be their mother on whom we shall all lean.

Slowly Jennifer made her ideas known. "Peter, I want children but not yet. I wouldn't like to give up my law career and to be truthful I'd love to continue and advance my studies. Would this worry you? However, before I continue, what are your plans? Now it's your turn."

"My love, I want children but as you say not yet. We're establishing the foundations for their lives and if the groundwork is secure and stable then their lives will be happy and, God willing, long and fruitful."



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 21



Sadly, Bob and Ted felt a little neglected through all these preparations, although at times Jennifer and Peter joined them to all go out together with Ruth and Karen who seemed to be the permanent partners for Ted and Bob.

Things were changing in Peter's apartment, too. The place was subtly altered and Jennifer's clothes seemed to take up all the available space.

Eventually April arrived and Peter's bachelor days were almost at an end when he drove Jennifer to Mascot airport.

"Goodbye, Jennifer."

His arms encircled her waist and the passengers had to thread their way around them.

"Don't be late for our date next week. I'll be so anxious to see you. None of that rubbish about the bride always being late." Peter ruffled her hair.

"Be careful darling," she warned in a mock serious tone. "It's only a week and I don't want you arriving on crutches." Laughing and waving she joined the other passengers. Before disappearing, she turned back toward him and blew a kiss.

"I'll be there to claim my wife," Peter thought, "But why does she have to go off a week early? Women are so mysterious."

Peter shrugged his shoulders and returned home. Ted and Bob were taking him out for a Buck's Night to celebrate his final night as a single man.

They had laughed and teased Jennifer unmercifully about the event, flaunting their ideas and reveling in her looks of distaste. Yet the wicked twinkle in their eyes boded trouble if Peter wasn't careful.

Promptly at seven, as arranged, they picked him up.

"Put this over your eyes," insisted Bob who tied the blindfold tightly about his head.

When the car stopped and someone guided him up a few steps, Peter didn't have the slightest idea where he was.

A door clanged open and his nose twitched. He could recognize that smell of spray paint and dust.

That unknown person held his arms tightly as a pair of soft lips kissed him and, as he struggled, another pair of equally soft lips kissed him. Two hands took his and guided him further into the building by what he recognized as two females as their breasts pushed against his arms.

"Where have you been?" It was Joe's voice. Whipping the blindfold off and full of mischief, Joe beamed at him.

Peter was standing in his workshop and the two females holding his arms were the two young apprentices. It was obvious they had also been the ones to kiss him.

"All your workers are here and we felt it wasn't fair to exclude your two youngest," insisted Joe, putting forward a lame excuse for two females joining a traditionally all-male occasion.

Looking around him, Peter could see that Joe had gone to a lot of trouble, arranging with the others to clear the workshop of cars and to decorate it. Big posters with 'Best Wishes, Poor Bugger, Oh, the poor girl, If only she knew what we know' hung on every wall, and every guest sported a black armband of mourning.

Down the center of the workshop, the men had organized a long trestle table laden with steaming Chinese, Thai and Indian food.

Peter was amused when he saw the compulsory Tiger Beer, and he laughed aloud at what they'd placed in the center of the table - a large cake on which someone had outlined in black icing the words 'Don't do it! You'll be sorry!'

All Peter's workers were present as well as local car salesmen and clients. Andrew and his father were there, grinning as much as the Asian clients. It was a multi-cultural evening of joy for the boss.

"Dad and I are Jennifer's spies." Andrew grinned. "Well, so she thinks!"

"The apprentices have been sworn to secrecy and they are in my care," Joe beamed. "They'll be sleeping upstairs and no-one else will be allowed up under any condition. This will be their first and last Buck's Night and an education for them, but it's the age of equality of the sexes so here they are." 

Joe's voice dropped away. He was taking his position as the workshop father very seriously.

Bill Williams' great paws lifted Peter off his feet and handed him the first Tiger for the night. The jokes, as they sat around the table chomping their way through the banquet, were all at Peter's expense.

Every joke had brides or bridegrooms as the topic. Repeatedly the married men offered their advice on how to behave on the honeymoon, but Peter was sure their advice was anatomically impossible.

"Yam Seng" followed "Yam Seng" and Peter, who twirled the duck's head, made certain the beak didn't point to him.

Many Tigers later, Peter heard a commotion near the back of the workshop. Everyone around the table cheered, and Peter was convinced they knew what was about to happen. He didn't have to wait long. Andrew and Eric had pulled a tarpaulin from an ornate iron double bed and the Commander was wheeling it into view.

It didn't take Peter long to recognize the occupants of the bed - two store dummies - one wearing a red wig and the other sporting a crescent scar. They were in a most obscene pose, although a sheet artfully draped across their hips hid the actual details. A sign hung above their heads on the cast iron bed head.

'Peter. Not again. Can't I get some sleep tonight?'

The men around the table roared with laughter, and Peter's blushing embarrassment only caused them to laugh even louder. Ted thrust another beer into Peter's hand as the party got into full swing.

By Monday, Peter had recovered sufficiently to remember fragmented details.

At one stage a girl had materialized and had begun stripping, her whole attention concentrated on him. She'd dragged his face against her bare body as she writhed and contorted, encouraged by the cheers of Peter's erstwhile friends.

Peter's confusion and the fact that he had far too much to drink didn't help when she dragged him to the bed and began to undress him. God alone knows what she intended before a thumping on the shutters interrupted her performance.

"Police! Open up!" The order was brief and to the point.

Joe unlocked before pushing the shutters high.

Two police from the local station marched past him, straight to the stripper. "We're here to arrest this sex fiend, Miss. It looks as though we got here just in time to save you."

They grabbed Peter. Throwing him down on the bed, they hauled his wrists to the bed head where they handcuffed him. To the cheers of the crowd, they ignored Peter's yells of innocence but stayed on to playfully pat the stripper and accept some food with a couple of beers before leaving.

Peter's friends had great fun at his expense. He was drenched with beer, chased around the workshop by the stripper and had obscene messages sprayed on his chest. The things Peter couldn't remember were when he passed out, when the party ended or how he got home.

"Some party Boss." Joe was the first to greet him in the morning. "You should have seen your face when the stripper waggled her bum on your lap." Grinning and moaning, he was holding his head as if still recovering.

"If my head didn't ache so much I would laugh."

The others in the workshop, including the apprentices, were in no better shape.

Eventually Easter arrived and the Sydney contingent arrived in Melbourne safely.

The wedding morning dawned, and Peter stood before the mirror adjusting his Sam Brown - his leather belt that included a leather strap over his shoulder attached to his waist belt. Feeling proud, he donned his slouch hat and looked at the medals on his chest.

Standing straight, he studied his reflection in the mirror. Shocked he saw the reflection not of his figure alone but of a second figure in a RAAF uniform standing beside him - a figure with a smile wreathing its face.

The reflection in the mirror raised his arm and saluted.

Peter turned to speak to his father but there was no one else in the room.

Peter knew that these visions - these remembrances - took place at significant times in his life, and he'd learned to accept them when they arrived unexpectedly.

Now the time had arrived for him to commit himself to the woman he loved, his nervousness almost overcame him as a knock came at the door.

"My God, Peter!" Ted was furious and worried. He and Bob had expected to escort their friend in the traditional manner with all the men in formal attire.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, amazed at Peter's appearance. "Have you taken leave of your senses? Why the uniform? This is no bloody costume ball. For God's sake, get changed. If you turn up in that fancy dress Jennifer will murder you."

The arrival of another military figure interrupted Ted's words and the Regimental Sergeant Major entered the room. He threw a salute.

"Your transport is waiting, Major."

The enigma that still surrounded their friend left both of them speechless. Ted and Bob stared at their Peter who returned the salute. What could they say under these circumstances? The three men quietly followed the Regimental Sergeant Major to the limousine.

"You're a bastard! Why didn't you tell us?" Ted was furious and Bob at his elbow was fuming.

In the car, Peter quietly explained that his regiment had insisted on this military wedding as a gesture of thanks for his bravery so long ago. Briefly and without revealing his whole history, he outlined how he saved the lives of all the men in his platoon.

"Just bear with me and for God's sake hold me up. I'm so nervous I don't know if I have the strength to get through this. I'm terrified I'll make a fool of myself."

With its tires crunching their way around the gravel driveway to the huge doors of the cathedral, the car made a friendly sound in the crisp morning air. Even the peppercorn trees seemed to bow lower in welcome while the magpies threw their heads back and carolled their joy. High over-head a solitary crow croaked its mournful hello to the men.

Two Ghurkhas in full dress uniform opened the car doors. They saluted Peter as Andrew came down the steps to join them.

"Just as well we're all dressed decently. That fellow in the RSM's uniform just sniffed loudly when I wouldn't produce an invitation, and he refused to allow me into the church. When I said I was part of the bridal party - well, he smiled and saluted me.

"God his hands are like legs of ham. That knife at his belt looks bloody dangerous"

Peter laughed at the horrified look on the faces of his bridal party. "Oh, his kukri? Without that he would be naked. It is dangerous and he cannot unsheathe it without drawing blood."

Andrew changed the topic without bothering to wait for an answer. "Where the hell did you get him from, Peter? He's more gorilla than man. Just the person I wouldn't like to meet on a dark night. I thought Ghurkhas were wiry, little men but he's over 6 feet tall and I'm sure he's 12 feet broad. Is he a Sumo wrestler in his spare time? He would make a good footballer. He's a handsome bugger though.

"Hell, I didn't know what to do," Andrew began grumbling, putting on his usual act. "If I didn't know you better I'd believe that Jennifer was getting a handsome gentleman as her husband."

Hearing Andrew's familiar teasing style, Peter felt his nerves settle. All morning he'd been rushing and worrying about every detail and now it was far too late to worry.

"What a beautiful cathedral. The leadlight windows set in this sandstone are exquisite. Look at the way the peppercorns and the weeping willows over-hang the slate roof. They'd make it cool inside even on the hottest summer day. Must have taken you ages to find this church although I don't know why you dragged us this far." Ted stopped before entering the church to stroke the hand-hewn sandstone wall. He turned to look out across the red graveled driveway.

Bob laughed. "I wouldn't travel this far even on a holiday."

Quietly Ted added, "This church has seen a lot of weddings but none as joyous as this one."

"Bet the bride is late, and I'll double the stakes if she could have laughed at your Buck's Night," Bob chuckled.

"I should have taken a photograph of you and that stripper." Ted said, and Andrew joined in the laughter. "You looked as though you were going to faint."

"No bet." Peter grinned. "Our last bet got me into terrible trouble and now I would not be brave enough to bet."

Waving a fist under Bob's, nose Peter growled at him. "Today you'll say nothing. For once in your life you'll control yourself." Peter's words had a nervous bite to them. "Please behave. Today is the most important day in my life."

The two groomsmen and the best man gathered around the groom.

"We're here to help. Don't worry," they reassured him.

Andrew's next words brought a wry grin to Peter's face.

"Dad and I sneaked back to the farm and we hid in the shearer's quarters. Unfortunately Jennifer caught us and demanded to know what happened at the infamous buck's night, especially when she saw how hung over we were. Mum saved us and told Jennifer to leave us alone. What a great night! I haven't laughed so much for years."

"I had to stay outdoors today, so I didn't see Dad much," he said wryly. "It's a mad house out there with women rushing hither and thither, matron of honor, bridesmaids, mother of the bride and the bride. Mad they are, absolutely and utterly mad. Mum's giving orders, no one's listening and Dad's trying to help but only getting in the way. Been like that for days."

A polite cough brought them back to the present and the Bishop led them up the long aisle through two long lines of Ghurkhas who snapped to attention as they passed.

Patiently waiting, the men of the bridal party stood on the altar steps at the right of the aisle.

"Never fear I haven't lost a groom yet," the Bishop reassured Peter, but his words didn't do much to quell the nerves that had been building over the weeks, especially when he added, with a grin, "Have you got the rings?"

Peter sagged and almost fainted, but Ted grabbed him.

"They're safe," he said. "Ministers always ask that question."

Noting Peter's extreme state of anxiety, the Bishop suggested they sit.

The men looked about as the church filled and the organist began playing some interludes. The tunes became more and more familiar when the organist began playing them for the third time.

Bob leaned across and whispered, "Bride's late. I won that bet."

Peter's stony face reflected his lack of humor.

Before he sould reply, Jennifer's Mum appeared beside him. She bent down, kissing him on the cheek. "Jennifer's here and she'll be proud to see you in uniform."

The Bishop signaled the men of the bridal party to stand, and Peter turned to look down the aisle lined with Ghurkhas standing at attention and facing the center of the aisle as a guard of honor for the bride. He wasn't surprised to see Air Force Uniforms, one Naval Uniform and some Army Uniforms scattered amongst the congregation.

The two massive oak doors at the end of the aisle remained closed, but finally, as he watched, they creaked open and Peter could feel the throb through his feet as the opening chords of Wagner's Bridal Chorus thundered in his ears. Framed in the doorway were the flower girls as they began to move down the aisle. They moved forward and the bridesmaids with the Matron of Honor replaced them in the doorway.

Peter was almost beside himself as the vision of Jennifer, a shaft of sunlight forming a halo around her head and her face hidden behind the filmy gauze of white lace, beamed at him from the entrance.

Suddenly aware of all her family, friends and well-wishers filling the church pews, together with a smattering of uniforms representing Peter's military 'family', Jennifer paused at the door. She knew she was about to become Mrs. Peter O'Brien, but the two lines of Ghurkhas and the length of the aisle intimidated her.

Her father squeezed her arm and whispered in her ear, "Your man's waiting for you and he looks so handsome. Let's go and join him."

On the arm of her father, she began the long walk towards Peter. His eyes were on her she could tell he was unaware of the bridesmaids and flower girls who led the way. She knew he could see the flowers in her hand shaking violently.

As they reached Peter's side, Eric lifted Jennifer's veil slightly and kissed her on the cheek. She had barely a moment to register the tear that was forming in his eye but the sight of it almost moved her to tears herself.

Eric then turned and offered Jennifer's hand to Peter. It was only a small step from her father's side to Peter, but Jennifer believed it was as big a journey as she had ever taken.

Peter's hands felt sweaty, and it made Jennifer glad to see that she was not the only one feeling so jittery about this whole ceremony. As soon as he took her hand, however, he seemed to gain strength from her and she felt his courage flow into her in the same moment.

Peter knew she was as nervous as he was.

To give them strength, Peter took her free hand in his and smiled.

She leant close to him.

"I had forgotten how you'd be dressed," she whispered, "But when your friends opened the car doors and saluted, I was suddenly reminded.

"You're so handsome in uniform."

The strength Peter gained from her presence made his vow, "I do," ring from the rafters. Jennifer's "I do" was much softer and perfectly demure.

Peter did hear, "You may kiss the bride," and gently lifted her veil to see his mother's diamonds in Jennifer's ears and her necklace cradled in the soft shadow of her cleavage.

His blue eyes sparkled and danced with the joy and pride of knowing she was now his wife as he bent to allow his lips to meld with hers.

How long the kiss lasted she didn't know, but she did know that the act was telling her how much he loved her and how proud he was to have her beside him.

The fire in her eyes told him of her love and joy and was a sight he would never forget. It burnt into his heart. Smiling radiantly, her eyes gleamed as she lifted her lips to his.

They were married!

The sounds of "Love Changes Everything" resounded from the cathedral's rafters while the bridal party went into the sacristy to sign the marriage register. When the bridal party reappeared at the top of the aisle, there were not many dry eyes amongst the women.

"May I present Major and Mrs. Peter O'Brien?" The bishop sounded pleased.

Then the RSM stood, demanding everyone's attention as his voice boomed out.

"When the Major and his beautiful wife leave the church they will be standing at the top of the steps waiting for you and your cameras. They will wait so there is no rush. Please make your way out of this magnificent cathedral through the side doors."

He and his men moved in a formal procession toward the exit.

The organ throbbed into life and together Peter and Jennifer walked into their future with the stirring bars of the Wedding March to assist them. It was a long aisle for Jennifer when she'd made her entry, and it was an even longer walk as the married couple made their way back down it, their friends wanting to congratulate them at every step. When it became too much for them, Peter swung Jennifer into his arms and kissed her soundly. Eventually they stood at the top of the steps and Jennifer gasped as two lines of Ghurkhas flanked the red carpet sweeping down the stairs to the path below, swords by their sides, waiting to salute the bride and groom as they passed.

The carillon rang its joy to the town as the newlyweds posed for photographs.

Satisfied everyone was out of the church when the Bishop appeared, the RSM marched to the end of the line and flicked a salute at Peter who donned his slouch hat and returned the salute.

The RSM barked an order and the swords swept up as one to form an arch. Hand-in-hand, Peter and Jennifer dipped their heads, slowly making their way through the archway and giving everyone time to take photos.

Surrounded by guests, Peter and Jennifer concentrated on being together. Not even when Susie and the Commander gave them both hugs did they stop holding hands.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 21



The Commander, looking very official in his Royal Australian Naval Uniform saluted Peter.

"You're a devious bugger," he said in jovial tones. "No one had the slightest clue that you're a Major in the Ghurkhas. Those poor bastards who attacked Susie didn't stand a chance."

He paused, drawing himself to an even greater height.

"Congratulations from Susie and me. We are both very proud of you and Jennifer."

Eric and Andrew laughed and shook Peter's hand, reaching through Peter's strong hold to give Jennifer a hug and a kiss. Both of them warned Peter that worse was to come, but as the bridal car whisked the happy couple away from the church, Peter didn't give their warnings a thought. Jennifer was beside him and his arm around her waist emphasized that they were together forever. Nothing! No one could separate them.

At the riverbank with the weeping willows and red river gums as background, the photographer seemed to take ages before he was finished

Only then did their driver turn towards the reception. Peter made certain that Jennifer was too involved with his kisses to notice that the car had driven into Rocky Springs - their new home. She wasn't even aware the car had stopped until the door opened and her beaming father was there to help her out.

As Peter bent to lift her train, Eric took the opportunity to give his daughter a hug. He swooped to hold her tight and Peter detected tears in his eyes. His little girl had suddenly grown up.

Eric then turned to Peter, "Welcome, son."

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien." Elizabeth rushed down the steps to cuddle her daughter and then stepped back as Jennifer suddenly became aware of her surroundings.

Unable to contain his joy, Peter lifted her like a piece of white thistledown in a breeze and carried her up the wide marble steps and across the threshold followed by her Mother and Father.

"Welcome Mrs. O'Brien. I am so pleased you selected this property as your new home. Here is your own special wedding present from me. I love you with all my heart and," Peter took the deeds of Rocky Springs from his father and handed them to her.

Jennifer just stared at him but then tears began to form and Peter admonished her.

"No need for tears my love," he reassured her. "This is your home and a happy home it is - now you're here. Come on, we'd better hurry, our guests are waiting."

Jennifer lightly punched his arm.

"Peter O'Brien, you really are incredible but God I love you so much and really your gifts just seem to be never ending. How can I thank you?"

"That's easy - so easy my love. Just help me make this as happy a home as the one Elizabeth and Eric gave you, and God willing, give me children to enjoy it."

"Come on, you two. Everyone's waiting. We're hungry." Andrew pushed them down the long corridor out to the huge marquee and took them to the entrance. When they appeared, the crowd stood, clapped and continued clapping as they made their way to their seats with their Ghurkha escort.

As soon as they sat, waiters hurried to serve the bridal breakfast and there was silence while everyone waited for the bishop to pronounce grace. Then the merriment started.

Behind the wedding cake Peter, at last, could look about and give a thought to the bridal party. He was not surprised to see the tasteful dresses of Susie, the Matron of Honor and the bridesmaids, Karen and Ruth.

He managed to thank each of the bridesmaids for helping to get his wife to the church even if she was late. However, the banter between the people at the bridal table was almost inaudible in the noise generated by the guests.

Then Peter proceeded to forget them as Jennifer took his whole attention. His body sang its love for her as her cool hand in his turned his blood to molten larva.

As the meal ended and the time for toasts and speeches approached, the new husband and his wife began to look around the huge marquee.

Suddenly Jennifer gripped Peter so tightly he winced. He turned to see who had gained her attention and what he saw made him spring to his feet knocking his chair over.

Four young women stood at Jennifer's side, smiling broadly - two beautiful Chinese girls clad in matching black and gold Cheongsams with splits in the skirts to their thighs with the high collar neckline, and beside them two strikingly attractive young Indian women wrapped in identical green saris.

The four young women obviously shared a deep love for Peter.

There was a hush amongst the guests as the crash of the overturning chair had gained their attention.

Peter's Cantonese rang out as he embraced his Chinese 'sisters'. He then turned to the others, making the prayer salute before addressing them in Tamil. With his arms around the four of them, he introduced his 'sisters' to Jennifer.

The five women were chattering away - the girls studying Jennifer's jewellery - when Ted gave a nod to Peter who disappeared. The 'sisters' found their places at the table and Ted stood to demand everyone's attention.

Jennifer was far too busy talking to notice her husband disappearing with two of the guests.

"Welcome to you all and a special welcome to our guests from Singapore, Malaysia and Nepal as well as from the armed forces. We have gathered to celebrate the marriage of our dearly loved friends Jennifer and Peter."

Yes, Ted had the gift of the gab, but he also had the gift of the dramatic.

"The trouble with being the best man at a wedding is that you never get the chance to prove it - but," Ted waited for the laughter to die down before adding, "a word of advice to you Peter. The most effective way to remember your wedding anniversary is to forget it once."

Howls of laughter greeted his counsel.

"This is a happy wedding - but Jennifer, I have some questions for you, so please answer clearly so everyone can hear.

"Bob, hold the microphone so we can hear Jennifer's responses.

"Question One. On your first date what did you think -- oops, I forgot. Would Jennifer's Mum please open the curtains and take up the baton because she has to conduct."

The crowd laughed good-naturedly at Elizabeth's confusion as she opened the curtains at one end of the marquee to find a small orchestra on the stage. The leader of the violins placed a baton in her hand and the conductor whispered to her.

"Ladies and gentlemen! You are about to see the sight that Jennifer viewed the night she first met Peter." Grinning broadly, Ted turned to Jennifer to ask the first question.

"Question One - Jennifer. Why didn't you run and run hard when," he became silent as the orchestra struck up the opening bars of The Dance of the Little Swans before the players paused expectantly.

Three ballerinas moved onto the dance floor and took up their stance, eyes fixed at the far wall ready to begin their pas de trois.

Three little swans stood waiting - two dainty and petite in their white tutus with their feathery skulls caps and white ballet slippers - the third, gigantic with a pair of hairy legs appearing below his tutu. The spectacle was even more bizarre as that middle swan was wearing an ill-fitting skullcap. On his feet was a pair of enormous muddy boots.

Jennifer's Mum dropped the baton to stare at the spectacle.

The effect was one of grotesque hideousness.

Ignoring Elizabeth, the orchestra stuck up the opening bars of the Dance of the Little Swans and in complete unison, the three swans danced. All six feet kept a strict rhythm and the three heads turned and nodded as if one. All six eyes peered at some point high over the guests' heads.

Captivated, the guests were silent, studying every move.

Suddenly the two dainty swans rose, lifted by that monstrous middle swan, and with their feet going through the motions in midair, the dance continued without the dancers missing a single movement or step.

The guests howled with laughter as the dance ended and the swans disappeared.

Jennifer was laughing as much as the guests, and was unable to answer when Ted continued with his questioning.

"Well Jennifer that was your first date and you saw Peter as," Ted continued with a loud groan, "oh God, too horrible to mention, eh. Why didn't you run?"

He waited as if wanting an answer, and when none was forthcoming he prompted, "No answer?"

Ted, his face a picture of seriousness, continued. Producing a long sheet of paper from his pocket and with no grin to warn the guests he read the second question.

"I believe Peter trod the boards with you. To refresh your memory I have a video of a certain night - a video that everyone here should see."

"Eric and Elizabeth - watch this and tell us all he is still acceptable as your son."

A huge screen rolled down from the roof and Jennifer watched, spellbound, as she appeared on the screen with the drunken misshapen villain who dribbled the words, "Come! A kiss to seal the bargain!"

The wedding guests booed, stamped their feet and cheered as the villain whirled away, dripping blood.

"Yes Elizabeth and Eric, the villain is your son. Do you want to pay the Bishop to forget the wedding?" He sought the bishop with his eyes.

"Bishop, can you undo the wedding?" he called out. Without waiting for an answer, Ted continued, turning back to Jennifer.

"Well Jennifer, why didn't you run? Do you want to run now? No answer yet?

"Well Peter's fellow workers are begging you. Please, please take him off somewhere and lose him so they don't have to listen to his singing anymore. We're all tired of this song.

"Of course, we know now his single days are over -- you have seen to that, Jennifer." Ted laughed at the dumbfounded look on her face. "Yes, Jennifer he at last has realized he is married and wants to tell you, Now my philandering days are over..."

"Elizabeth, you conduct again please. Joe, you'd better help Peter out."

Peter, once more in uniform, walked with Joe to the center of the dance floor, and to the strains of 'Non più andrai, farfallone amoroso' from the orchestra, they launched into the aria with no trouble at all. Peter turned to look at Jennifer and it was obvious he was singing to her, oblivious of everyone and everything but her, much to the enjoyment of their friends. Joe drifted back to his seat, leaving Peter to serenade his bride.

"Stay there Peter, as we're not finished with you yet. You are always the one who surprises everyone. Now we have a surprise for you."

With a smug look on his face, Ted demanded that Peter face his mother and watch her conducting because he'd need all the help he could get for the next question.

"Jennifer you've not answered a single question so I have two more for you. First, was it this song of seduction that enticed you to Peter's well..., dare I say it, Peter's charms?"

Jennifer stared though Ted and the audience wondered at the best man's audacity. She stood, and carrying her bridal train, silently moved to stand behind Peter as Ted continued.

"Did Peter decide to steal your heart and with cool calculated passion succeed? Has he told you with premeditated hot passion how lovely your hand is in his?

"You know he loves Mozart."

Still the guests had no idea what was coming and Peter dared not look away from his mother.

"Did you try to be strong but weaken?" He laughed at the look on her face.

"Thank you Elizabeth, will you help Peter out? Peter, watch Elizabeth and try to sing in tune this time!"

The strains of La ci darem la mano -- There, we will join hands; There you will say "yes" to me filled the air and Peter opened his chest to begin singing - a little perplexed as this aria was a duet - soprano and baritone - but then just behind him a voice joined in. Shocked, he turned, and when he saw who had joined him in this love duet, he almost stopped singing.

Jennifer was singing with Peter and suppressing a lump in his throat, he pulled himself together and sang with even more gusto, his astonishment showing in every fibre of his being. The music ended and Peter, beaming with pride, bent to kiss his wife.

"Eric and Elizabeth, this is your new son. Andrew, watch your brother-in-law. Is there anything you would like to add?"

Worried that Andrew would speak, Ted continued quickly.

"Jennifer, are you sure you don't want to run?" Ted continued. "Ah well let's all watch this."

The screen came down again.

Standing in the center of the dance floor, Jennifer clung to Peter's arm as she watched the video of them climbing the stairs to the Opera House - that magical night of Die Fledermaus. She watched and could hear the questions of the reporters.

The beautiful memories of that night came flooding back as she watched herself lean across the table to demand a kiss of her man.

The guests gasped as they watched the two of them dancing on the Opera House stage. They clapped when they saw the lovers kiss.

The screen rose and Ted announced the Bridal Waltz and Jennifer grinned as the orchestra struck up the same waltz they had danced at the Opera House.

They danced with each other, then moved apart and danced with Jennifer's Mum and Dad before dancing with the Commander and Susie. Jennifer danced with each of the males in the bridal party and laughed as she saw Peter watching her carefully as he danced with the bridesmaids.

As more and more joined them on the floor, they danced with each other.

With speeches and toasts concluded, Jennifer's mother and bridesmaids whisked her off, while Peter rushed to change out of uniform. Shortly after Peter had reappeared, Jennifer returned, dressed in a lime green suit against which nestled Peter's emerald pendant. The Christmas emerald earrings matched the green of her eyes.

Peter could only gasp at her beauty and stood spellbound until Eric's warm words broke into his consciousness. "She's yours now lad. Look after her." He gave Peter a friendly push, propelling him across the floor toward Jennifer.

For Peter, the walk to the car was almost as long as the walk down the Cathedral aisle, especially as guests threw confetti and rice over them in a never-ending shower of color. Elizabeth shed a few tears as Peter closed Jennifer's door and walked around the front of the car, hurried along by Andrew, Ted and Bob.

Miles down the road he repeated his jesting.

"Jennifer, put your knees over closer. I'd rather play with your knees than change gear."

This time there was no icy reply, just a giggling slap on his arm.

"Peter, behave. This is an automatic car"

The drive to Melbourne was particularly long as Peter insisted on stopping every few miles to kiss Jennifer. He wondered why every driver, who passed, tooted while their passengers hung out of the windows, waving frantically.

Finally, the doorman answered his query when he pulled into their hotel.

"Shall I have the car washed, Sir?" The doorman asked, grinning broadly.

No wonder Andrew and the others had been so anxious to get them into the car and away. Scrawled across the back were the messages 'Peter Loves Jennifer. Jennifer Loves Peter. Just Married!' Everyone knew. Where they stood at the desk was a puddle of confetti and, wherever they walked, they left a technicolor trail behind.

Peter signed their names on the register as Mr. and Mrs. Peter O'Brien.

Jennifer thought she would never forget the thrill of seeing their names linked together like that for the very first time.

The room-boy escorted them to their room with their luggage on a trolley and accepted Peter's tip with a cheeky grin as he left. The click of the door brought a sudden chill. Peter was alone with Jennifer - now his wife.

The first day of forever had started. 



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 22



There was an awkward moment of profound silence after Peter closed the door.

They smiled nervously at each other as Peter lifted a hand and softly stroked the side of Jennifer's face.

With head down and hands clasped before her, she waited, feeling a sudden chill of apprehension.

He voiced his innermost thoughts. "Right now, I feel like the luckiest man alive. I never dreamed that I would meet and marry someone as beautiful as you." Then he leaned down and tilted her chin in his hand, bending lower to give her the sweetest kiss that she had ever experienced.

Her mind was waging a battle between excitement and nervousness. Until now, this battle had been pretty even, but suddenly the scales tipped decidedly in favor of excitement.

"Mrs. O'Brien, I love you." Softly he breathed the words and she lifted her head while he gently kissed her forehead.

Her soft answer, "I love you Mr. O'Brien," was all the answer Peter needed to hear.

Laughing, he broke the awkward silence. "I'm starving."

The wedding breakfast had been superb but Peter's thoughts hadn't been on the food.

Relaxing, Jennifer beamed. "No wonder, all you did was pick," she giggled, "and kiss me."

"You didn't eat much yourself. It's still early, so would you like to eat out, eat here or, well, any suggestion?"

"Have something sent up. I'm famished and I'm suddenly very tired. My morning started at sunrise I'm sure. And," she giggled, "I was rather busy making myself beautiful for a date in a church. Then I met a most handsome man in the church and I married him."

She was laughing, but both of them were apprehensive about what lay ahead.

As Peter picked up the phone to put through the order, he knew how desperately he wanted to make love with Jennifer but he pushed the thought aside for the moment, unwilling to hurry Jennifer and lose the magic of this moment.

They sat opposite each other in the room and ate their chicken and beef satays with vegetable samosas, toasting each other with the carefully selected champagne Peter had ordered. As they talked of the day, the little they could recall surprised them.

Finally, there was nothing left to either eat or drink and they had nothing left to discuss.

Again, Jennifer could not look Peter in the face. Her thoughts of what to expect troubled her.

"Stand up," Peter said with mock severity.

She quivered as she stood head still down.

"You can't sleep in your jewellery. What would Santa say?"

She giggled, but quickly became serious as Peter kissed the pendant from her throat and the earrings from her ears. When she began to tremble, Peter calmed her.

"Don't be frightened Jennifer, I love you." He bent to kiss her yet again.

As they broke their kiss, Jennifer cleared her throat.

"Just give me a couple of minutes."

She'd already decided she wouldn't allow Peter to undress her. Instead, she opened her suitcase, took out her negligee and fled to the bathroom.

With the bathroom door locked behind her, Jennifer gave way to her tears. Her body had betrayed her on this of all days. She had realized her body's weakness when she changed into her 'going away' clothes at the reception and had taken precautions. Now she knew her worst fears had been realized.

Her mind was in torment as she questioned why had this happened to her. Tonight of all nights, she didn't want this to happen! She knew that Peter would want to make love with her and she admitted she wanted him so badly. Her body ached for him and yet she could not give in to those wants. She couldn't.

Jennifer suspected that he'd be disappointed and angry and blame her, but she knew it wasn't her fault. She hadn't planned for this to happen.

Why, why, why had this happened now? She wanted to make love with him so much, but she couldn't. She wouldn't. Then her thoughts cleared as she realized that she'd soon find out whether Peter's generosity with material things also extended to his love for her.

Slowly she unzipped her dress and pulled it off in one move, then slid her panties down her legs and unhooked her bra. Her mind was in such torment it was a wonder that she was able to change at all with her hands shaking as much as they were.

Jennifer slipped the negligee over her head and down over her naked body. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.

It was the most beautiful negligee that she had ever owned.

Trying to clear her mind of all her fears, she remembered her mother had given it to her, along with the many nervous jokes from everyone else at her bridal shower.

Peter's flattery aside, Jennifer knew she wasn't a stunning beauty. Her eyes caught the glint of her wedding ring and her heart beat at an even madder pace. She fussed with her hair, trying to make herself as alluring as possible then switched off the light and took a deep breath.

With her hand on the door lock, she stood in thought.

"Well, I can't put off the evil moment forever," she said to herself.

She unlocked the door.

Desperately Peter fought the desire to grab, but deep down he knew he had to tread warily if their honeymoon was to be a treasured memory.

It took Jennifer's eyes a second to adjust to the dim light.

Peter had draped his shirt over the single desk lamp and the room had a soft romantic glow. He had also turned the sheets down and was standing alongside the bed, wearing what looked to be a light blue robe. His huge frame filled out the robe better than any model Jennifer had seen in any catalogue.

Somehow, the sight made her start walking towards her new husband. That movement across the carpeted floor seemed as long as any marathon in history. She felt the negligee as it brushed her bare skin hidden beneath it.

Peter watched her approach with wide eyes. As she noticed his expression, Jennifer had a quick thought that his heart was probably pounding just as hard as hers - if not harder!

As she neared him, he held his arms out to her and smiled.

"Mrs. O'Brien, you are the loveliest woman I have ever seen."

She halted in front of him, placing her hands on his arms and running them to his broad shoulders. "And you, Mr. O'Brien, are the most handsome husband that any girl could ever expect."

Jennifer felt Peter slip his hands around her waist and pull her towards him. Her hands moved from his shoulders to around his neck as he leaned down to kiss her. The feeling, as her new husband held and kissed her, while wearing so scandalously little was indeed intoxicating.

Their lips parted and their tongues glided against each other's, tentatively. She felt Peter's grip around her body tighten and he drew her harder against his firm body.

Their kiss deepened and a soft moan escaped Jennifer's lips. Peter's mouth swallowed the sound. His mouth was driving her wilder with excitement with each passing moment. She felt his hands moving over her back, trying to explore her like a new toy for the first time. Her nipples - not covered by a bra - hardened as her breasts flattened against his powerful chest. Their lips ground against each other's more and more desperately.

She didn't want this moment to ever end.

Suddenly she became all too aware of something protruding into her belly. Peter's manhood had come to full attention and was jutting out from between the flaps of his robe. She could feel its heat through the thin silk and she pressed her lower body tighter against him in an effort to feel it more clearly.

Desperately Peter fought his desire. Deep down he knew he had to take things slowly.

She had moved into Peter's arms and didn't struggle as he carried her to their bed.

The moment he lay beside her and turned her into his throbbing body, her mind returned to the awful thought that she had to refuse him. Hiding her face in his shoulder Jennifer began weeping.

"Please Peter. I can't." Piteously, she lifted her eyes and sobbed, "I'm sorry. My period has started."

"Good Lord!" Peter held her very close, pulling her face against his chest. Although shocked by the sudden turn of events, he desperately tried to make light of her admission.

"Is that why you're crying? I thought it was something serious."

Jennifer could hardly believe her ears. Leaning back from his arms she stared deep into his eyes through her tears. She tried to reconcile what she knew to be his bitter disappointment with the words he'd just spoken.

Peter rolled her onto her back and stared into her eyes.

"Jennifer, why are you so worried when I feel so relieved?" A chuckle rose from deep within his chest and Jennifer's tears stopped, as she looked even more perplexed.

"All day I've been worrying that you were only marrying me for my body." Peter joked, rejecting the sad feeling of refusal as it struggled to gain strength. "I'm more than a sex object you know. I've been terrified you'd want to play with my body all night and not allow me any sleep."

Tittering, she rolled against Peter so close that every curve of her delightful body, holding promise of such pleasure, fitted into Peter. Gently he ran his hands over her negligee, exploring her body so softly and so carefully so as not to arouse her or worry her. He restrained his exploration to her back and shoulders.

Suddenly he rolled onto his back and shouted at the ceiling.

"Dear Dorothy Dix, what the hell do I do now?"

He felt a pillow biff him and he wrestled Jennifer until she lay beneath him. He stroked her face until her laughter ceased.

"Still worried?" he enquired.

She shook her head.

"No."

"How do you feel, Mrs. O'Brien?"

"I feel good," she replied.

"Can I have a feel to check?"

Jennifer gurgled. "Oh no, you don't! Didn't you hear what I said?" Pulling Peter's head to her shoulder, she lay quietly, stroking his cheek.

Against her neck, he murmured softly, close to her ear. "Tomorrow you'll be in a new country. While you're there you might find the girls at work were correct about your honeymoon being a study tour of bedroom ceilings."

The tension was broken.

Their sleep was fitful - little catnaps snatched between whisperings, lots of kissing and becoming accustomed to each other's bodies and the noises they made. All night Peter was painfully aware that Jennifer's softness was calling him. Her femininity drugged him and he wondered whether she knew.

Jennifer lay there, eyes closed, amazed at Peter's reaction to the bad news. She could feel his 'maleness', his 'boy's germs' as Andrew and she called them when children. He felt so hard and so, well, delicious she could feel herself reaching out to entice him.

'But I can't,' she thought. 'I won't, I want it to be unique not spoilt by anything, as there can be no repetition. The first time must be special. I can't. I won't.' The thoughts hammered into her consciousness.

"Are you showering with me this morning, Mrs. O'Brien?" Lightly Peter kissed her eyelids open.

"No, I am definitely not. There wouldn't be room under the shower for the three of us," she added pushing him to the floor.

Later in the afternoon, at the airport, Eric, Elizabeth and Andrew were waiting when Peter and Jennifer arrived. They hugged the newlyweds and talked so much that strangers must have thought the young couple had been away for years.

When Andrew helped Peter with the bags, Peter reminded him of the family's plans.

"Say nothing. Jennifer doesn't know." Grinning, Peter continued, "If our friends don't meet us we will be honeymooning in Victoria."

"You should have stayed on last night." Andrew laughed as he clutched his head. His bleary eyes showed his night had been long, very long. "Ted, Bob and I caused problems for Mum. I'm sure she believed we were playing musical beds. The place was so crowded we joined your Ghurkha friends in the shearing shed. Boy, can they play cards and can they drink! They're bloody dangerous. Dad crept out and joined us. We dragged a coupled of kegs over and had a party."

Then he smiled.

"But I suppose that would have been a poor substitute for your night." His cheeky grin showed he wasn't being vulgar.

As they joined the others, Andrew slid his arm across his brother's shoulders.

"Don't know what you've done with Jennifer," he guffawed. "She's radiant. Look at her - all eyes for you."

Peter could see Bill Williams waving to him. Susie burst through the crowd to hug Jennifer. Big Bill hoisted Jennifer off her feet and kissed her on her nose.

"That was the best wedding we've attended, and as for this fellow," Bill paused to pat Peter's shoulder, "Actually a dark horse."

Jennifer struggled from Bill's grasp.

"Well get on with it," Susie urged Bill. "Bill, give Jennifer their tickets and passports."

"This makes everything official. Here are your First Class Tickets and Peter's passport." Smiling broadly he continued, "Mrs. O'Brien this is your brand new passport. Took a bit of getting it in your married name seeing you were only married yesterday but I've got friends."

"Look out Asia here we come!" Peter's voice showed the relief he felt.

"Oh Peter," Jennifer hung around Peter's neck, her feet off the floor, "I'm so lucky. Imagine travelling First Class." She turned to Susie. "Thank you for all your support."

Hugging Susie she added, "Thanks for being our friend." Reaching up to kiss Bill she bubbled, "Bill, I'm so happy."

With all the formalities of boarding completed and their seatbelts tightened, they held hands as the jet clawed its way aloft.

"When your four 'sisters' said they'd be seeing me in this coming week and I asked where, all they did was giggle." Jennifer turned from the view of Melbourne to speak to Peter.

One of the cabin crew interrupted their whisperings. "Captain's compliments! His best wishes to Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien." The hostess handed them each a brimming glass of champagne and left them the bottle to consume.

Nine hours later, as the plane began its long descent into Singapore Jennifer ignored Peter. With her nose pressed to the window, she watched the fairy lights of the city appear.

They stepped out of the air-conditioned arrivals' lounge onto the footpath into what Jennifer believed was a wall of heat and humidity.

When their black limousine swung into the kerb to meet them, the driver jumped out to greet Peter most warmly in Cantonese. Jennifer wasn't surprised. With their luggage safely loaded and between comments on the passing scenery, Jennifer turned to Peter.

"Remind me," she demanded. "Which hotel, did we decide on?"

"Surely there's only one for honeymooners like us. Raffles - Somerset Maugham country."

The moment the room boy left and closed the door, Jennifer skipped from room to room exploring.

"Heavens! Surely these rooms aren't all for us? There's a writing room, a lounge room and a bathroom that's gigantic. This is beautiful, Peter. Look at the furniture - all that cane work - exquisite. Listen! The fans creak as they revolve. This is beautiful."

"Are you too tired to eat?" Peter asked, hoping that she'd want to go out and explore the eateries close by the Hotel. "Or shall we order room-service? How about we at least go down to the bar and have a famous Raffles Gin Sling and perhaps follow the tiger's footsteps?" He went on to explain the story of the tiger entering the billiard room many years previously.

Jennifer was excited at the prospect of the Gin Sling option. Hurriedly they showered and changed before exploring the hotel and its surrounds.

In the bar, they sipped the Gin Slings and soaked up the atmosphere. Peter ordered a light meal of Nonya Laksa. Expensively dressed people from all nationalities chattered among themselves. In the background soft mood music played, and Jennifer immediately reminded Peter of the night when they first met.

"To think I believed you were gay!" They were still laughing as they headed back to the room.

In bed, Peter held her again, but at least tiredness muted the ache of his desire. They slept until the first call to prayer at the local mosque rang in their ears. The boom, boom, boom of a drum, then the rising cadence of the Imam's call to prayer woke Jennifer.

Startled, she shook Peter awake. "My god what's that? What's going on? It's the middle of the night. Has war broken out?"

"It's day already, that's a call to the faithful for prayers. Don't worry you're safe," was Peter's reply as he wrapped Jennifer in his arms and began kissing her shoulder.

"The sun will be up in a few minutes as it's very quick in the tropics. One minute it's dark - the next it's broad daylight. This is the coolest part of the day."

Then, realizing the frostiness that met his kisses, he lay still, cuddling her.

As the day heated, he rose and suggested she join him for a swim.

"I can't," was her excuse as she patted Peter's hand. "Off you go, I'll rest for a while and then I'll come down. We'll have breakfast together and go exploring."

It was not long before screaming and shouting disturbed Jennifer, drawing her to the windows. Throwing open the shutters she leaned out, needing to discover what was causing the fuss.

Below were well-manicured gardens, palms, lawns and the pool. Peter had dropped the robe he had worn from the room and his sarong lay around his ankles. Standing at the edge of the pool clad only in the briefest of swimmers he was about to dive in.

Gardeners, room boys and servants were all pointing at him and shouting. More and more were pouring out into the garden area and pointing at his back. Shutters swung open and more heads poked out as guests wondered what was causing the cacophony. Fingers pointed and arms rose until someone from the office appeared and approached Peter.

It was obvious by the gesticulations that this person was questioning Peter about his back, until Peter tired of the nonsense and roared a message in Cantonese that resounded throughout the hotel. He threw his head back and roared again in Tamil and there was a deathly silence as, much crestfallen, the workers returned to their work.

Day after day, Singapore swallowed them in spite of the heat and humidity. Every street corner offered a new kaleidoscope of life - sounds, colors, smells and tastes. Each night they collapsed into bed, but the moment Peter allowed himself to become amorous, Jennifer froze and, becoming tense, rejected his advances.

Peter knew he was becoming irritable under the strain, but tried to hide his tension behind a screen of false jollity.

Then one night, Jennifer's words, as she slipped into the bed beside him, revealed she had noticed. "I'm sorry Peter, it's not my fault." Weeping she sobbed, "But why have you kept me at such a distance?"

"You're being silly again. There's no blame. If I've kept my distance, it's because I'm terrified I'll lose my self-control. My body's been a raging inferno - a bush-fire almost out of control every moment of the day.

"Walking beside you in the street makes me want to grab you. Studying your bum as you sashay up the escalators in front of me turns me on. Shopping or here in this room I'm on fire. Many times, I've had to pull back from ripping down the bathroom door and chasing you around and around the shower. If I don't hold you at a distance I'll eat you right up and not even spit out the bones."

Giving a bear-like growl, he began chewing her ears and neck in a mock ferocious manner.

Laughing at the pictures he had put in her mind, Jennifer pulled him against her breasts and ran her hands over his back.

Peter's hands brushed her negligee from her shoulders but his kisses and fingertips brought no response. It was time to sleep, yet as he dozed, he began to doubt her excuse. How would he know if she was telling the truth? Women were a mystery to him and he'd never listened to men's coarse jokes about such things. Oh well, why would he worry? At least he was sleeping beside the woman he loved.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 22



The slow creaking of the fan lulled him to sleep.

Noting how the employees were particularly deferential to him, even admiring him, Peter realized the display of his bare back had caused the change. He was no longer a tourist.

Out shopping, Jennifer began to believe that plans were afoot but couldn't decipher the conundrum. She heard Peter talking on his phone in Cantonese in a conversation where he seemed to be accepting directions. Someone was organizing something big. In his typical fashion, Peter was being secretive and she didn't want to spoil his game.

When they sat for coffee, his mind seemed pre-occupied as he wrote notes on serviettes before slipping them into his pocket. At times she gave him an enquiring look, hoping he'd give up the secret but he took no notice, merely giving her a smug smile and at the same time showing her all the love and devotion of a newly married man.

On Wednesday, before Peter left for his daily swim, he snuggled up to Jennifer and kissed her. He whispered in her ear. "Don't waste time this morning as you're having breakfast with my Chinese sisters. They'll be here within the hour to take you off for a day's special shopping. We'll all meet up at 8pm.

"I'll be spending the day with my Chinese father. Enjoy the day, make good use of the credit card and don't worry as you are in safe hands."

Clutching his towel and wearing his robe over his swimmers, he departed, leaving Jennifer lying dazed, trying to absorb his words.

She drifted in and out of sleep until, hearing a polite knock, she hastily leapt out of bed and wrapped a hotel bathrobe around her before opening the door.

There stood Peter's two Chinese sisters smiling broadly.

Jennifer felt embarrassed at the way she looked and suddenly Peter's words became reality, not the dream she thought they were.

"Zǎo shang hǎo, Jennifer," they said in unison as they giggled and each one hugged her before reverting to English.

"Good morning Jennifer," said one of them.

"We thought that Peter would have warned you we were coming but he was probably very excited about spending the day with Father. How are you enjoying Singapore?" the other asked.

Still highly embarrassed, Jennifer explained that Peter did in fact tell her but she thought she was dreaming as tiredness had overwhelmed her. She admitted that she was feeling the humidity.

"Oh we'll fix that for you."

Picking up the phone Lee-Lee ordered two fresh lime and sodas - one with sugar and one without. Within minutes, the drinks arrived and the twins ordered Jennifer to drink both, starting with the unsweetened one.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jennifer took a sip and immediately screwed up her face, as the bitter liquid seemed to flood every crevice of her body.

Lu-Lu and Lee-Lee could only laugh as Jennifer struggled to drink the entire glass.

"Now drink the next one." Lee-Lee handed her the sweetened offering.

This proved to be more palatable and Jennifer could feel it refreshing her.

"This will be your drink all day," said Lee-Lee. "It will combat the dehydration and make you feel stronger. Tonight is going to be very special and we want you in good health."

Lu-Lu added her instructions. "We'll wait while you shower and dress and then be on our way as we have a big day planned. Let us know when you're feeling low again from the humidity and we'll rest."

Quickly, Jennifer readied herself and the three were on their way.

Passing Peter on his way back to the room from his swim, Jennifer gave him a quick kiss and couldn't resist waving his credit card under his nose.

"We'll go to The Cold Storage for breakfast then hit the stores!" These were the words as they climbed into a taxi and simply asked for Orchard Road.

The day had started and Jennifer knew it was going to be long, busy and interestingly different.

The first stop after breakfast was with a Chinese seamstress who obviously knew the girls well. When introduced in English, Jennifer found out that this older lady was their aunty who had owned the shop for years. Before she knew it, she was removing her clothes and was standing in her bra and panties.

Tape measures seemed to be everywhere and the seamstress draped an exquisite gold brocade fabric around her as she took Jennifer's measurements for a Cheongsam.

All conversation was in Cantonese. Jennifer agreed with the choice of fabric and style, knowing that all this was part of Peter's planning from the previous days. She didn't understand a word, yet she understood what was happening amidst all the smiling, shouting pandemonium.

Lu-Lu and Lee-Lee must have told Aunty about Jennifer's dehydration as she produced two tall glasses of fresh lime and soda. She insisted that Jennifer sit and drink both in the correct order - sour then sweet.

The two girls picked out the same brocade fabric in red and ordered three dresses.

Jennifer produced Peter's credit card but felt humbled as the twins told her to put it away as Father was paying.

"Now Jennifer, we need shoes and accessories to match the dresses."

Back in her skirt and blouse, Jennifer was ready for the next adventure.

With swatches of fabric in their hands, the girls marched off, determined to make the day a success.

The day was ending when they returned to Raffles. On entering the suite, Jennifer was amazed to see three Cheongsams, one gold and two red, spread across the bed.

"How did these get here?" Jennifer asked Lee-Lee and Lu-Lu in surprise.

"Part of the friendly, smiling service of the East," was the reply. The three girls unpacked their parcels, making sure that everything matched and was ready for the evening's event.

Sitting back with their shoes off, the girls ordered afternoon tea from room service. They chatted about the day and explained to Jennifer the plan for the evening. However their explanation was less than explicit, leaving out some details so as not to spoil the surprise.

Meanwhile Peter had been collected and taken to meet his Chinese Father. He spent the morning telling his father of his life in Australia and of his plans for the future with Jennifer.

His Chinese Father arranged for a tailor to meet with them and make a suit for Peter so he would be a well-dressed businessman at the evening's event.

Knowing his Chinese father's attitude towards money, Peter believed that sometime during the day his father would demand that he account for all the money heaped on him as a reward for saving the four girls in the jungle all those years previously.

A series of Board meetings followed and question followed question on how Peter had spent the money, as he was required to account for every cent. Hisses of approval met his explanation of how he had increased the amount by 40%. The meetings and questioning were thorough without considering all the financial statements he had supplied on a regular basis.

The day of meetings was finally finished. It was time for Peter and his Father to get ready for the evening. He was most anxious to meet Jennifer again.

In a parlour off the Ballroom of the Raffles Hotel, Peter was waiting patiently until Jennifer stood in the doorway. He felt his heart leap.

Dressed in a golden Cheongsam with its Dragon and Phoenix pattern, she was so beautiful. The Mandarin collar, the half back of the dress clinging to her body with the slit up to her thighs, emphasized her figure. Her red hair hung down to her shoulders and she radiated her love for him.

He took her by the shoulders rotating her so he could view her beauty.

"I knew my frog made a good Prince Charming. I must get the name of your tailor." Jennifer commented as she turned him around.

"Did the girls tell you what's happening tonight?" Peter inquired.

"They told me the basics saying it was an important evening with your Father."

The sound of the door opening and a voice from behind, asking them to follow interrupted any further conversation. Peter slipped her arm through his and patiently followed the concierge to the entrance of the ballroom.

Pausing, Jennifer was astounded to see hundreds of Chinese standing to welcome them. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a semi-circle that included her mother, her father, her brother, the twins and a tall imposing Chinese man with a tiny attractive woman beside him - obviously his wife.

The M.C. began speaking and Peter bent closer to whisper, "He's welcoming us in Mandarin. Next, he'll use Cantonese and then he'll repeat the welcome in English. This is your Chinese wedding reception, so enjoy."

To the left of the doorway was a table on which stood a huge wedding photograph of them. Around the borders of the photograph were hundreds of Chinese signatures. Behind the table stood a red heart-shaped box with a slit at the top.

"This is where the Ang Pows from the guests are placed," Peter explained. "We'll donate the money to charity."

"... Mr. and Mrs. Peter O'Brien." The M.C. seemed to have finished.

Holding Jennifer's hand tightly, Peter moved onto the stage with her while cheers and shouts rang out around them.

The M.C. handed Peter the microphone and he responded with the Cantonese sibilants rolling so easily off his tongue. In each of the languages he repeated the words, "My wife and I thank you all for accepting us as part of your family. To be in this circle of love with family and so many friends makes this a truly memorable occasion. Again I say thank you."

Peter tried to hand the microphone back to the M.C. but a small hand reached out and took possession of it. Jennifer, with a beaming smile and tears of joy at seeing her family in this unusual situation, quietly added, "My husband spoke for us but I feel so overwhelmed with your love for us that I, also, must thank you. To Lee-Lee and Lu-Lu, I express my gratitude for helping me spend Peter's money on dresses, and of course for the fresh lime sodas."

Her brief words caused gales of laughter.

Then the people in the circle of love moved forward to hug and congratulate the couple.

Jennifer and Peter warmly greeted her parents and Andrew, who was very pleased to tell her they had seen the two of them in the streets and had to hide so they wouldn't spoil the surprise.

Peter's Chinese Father swooped on Jennifer. Behind him, was his wife listening and smiling as he spoke.

"Ah, at last we meet you! Congratulations Jennifer, you have tamed The Little One."

He turned his attention to Peter.

"Peter, if you don't mind I'll forget the Asian way and do the Australian thing." Without waiting for an answer, he hugged Jennifer and kissed her on the cheek.

"My daughters told me you were beautiful, but my girl, words can't describe your beauty. Thank you, my dear, for taming this man to whom we owe such a debt but perhaps you already know."

He introduced his wife. The Chinese and Australian parents sat on either side of Jennifer and Peter. There was no hint of uneasiness with the language barrier.

Jennifer noticed that Andrew sat between the twins. She knew they would keep him in control.

"Peter you never cease to amaze me. How did you keep such a secret of my family being here in Singapore?" Jennifer stared into his eyes and all he could do was laugh and lean forward for a kiss.

"Don't blame me. My fathers arranged this long before our Australian wedding. The Chinese and Tamil sides of my family did all the preparations. So pleased are they with our marriage they insisted on paying all expenses. Your family left on the flight after ours and have been the guests of my Chinese family."

Realizing Peter had let something slip, Jennifer grinned. She instantly realized that there would be a special occasion with Peter's Tamil family and she looked forward to being in KL.

In front of Peter was the usual plate of chilies, and Jennifer surprised everyone by delicately selecting a small piece and swallowing it. She smiled to herself, knowing that Peter had taught her the art of chili eating so her mouth was not on fire.

The twenty-course banquet was exquisite, and when Jennifer proved her dexterity with chopsticks Peter's father remarked, "Peter's taught you well."

He looked at Peter, still receiving congratulations from the guests. "You've lost none of your Cantonese, I notice, Peter" he commented wryly after Peter had spoken with person after person who arrived at the table to congratulate them.

Whenever people arrived at the table armed with a drink in hand, Peter stood, touched their glass with his and shouted, "Yam Seng!"

Jennifer noted that Peter only sipped his drink while the other person drained their glass. She was amazed at the number of Yam Sengs proposed and drunk.

Her father danced with her and proudly bent to tell her that she looked radiant and extremely happy. Excitedly, he continued to explain the way they had arrived in Singapore. He added how impressed he was by the extent of the hospitality showed them.

Dancing with her new Chinese father was different, as he wanted to compliment her on her beauty and her acceptance of the Chinese customs and behavior.

Even Andrew was subdued, but he only danced once with his sister. The remainder of the evening he spent dancing with the twins.

Elizabeth took time to take her daughter aside. She discussed the whirlwind that had taken over the family's lives since the wedding. She mentioned that they had learned to eat with their right hand and that her ability with chopsticks had improved.

Knowing that another piece of the jigsaw that formed Peter's plans had fallen into place, Jennifer made no comment but listened attentively while watching Peter dance with his sisters.

During the evening, Jennifer found herself in the powder room with the twins who were eager to tell their story.

"Has Peter told you of the floggings he took for stealing food for us? Did you know we were both madly in love with him because he saved our lives and we wanted him to marry both of us? Do you know...?" The stories seemed endless.

Later, on the dance floor Jennifer's jewellery flashed almost as much as her eyes, and Peter knew every man present envied him. They didn't talk as they danced. Words were unnecessary.

Their bodies spoke to each other incessantly. The brush of her thigh against his, the warmth of her hand in his and the feel of her waist cradled in his arms sent Peter's blood racing. When his lips lightly brushed Jennifer's Peter knew her body was answering.

They were both tired when they returned to their room.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 23



Peter enjoyed Thursday's early morning swim, taking this time alone to plan the day. The air hadn't warmed yet and the water, though tepid, was refreshing as he floated idly awaiting Jennifer's arrival.

"Got cha!" Peter heard the shriek as two soft hands sent him to the bottom. Spluttering and coughing he surfaced to see Jennifer's face close to his.

"Jennifer, I love you so damn much it hurts, but that won't save you!" and he dived to catch her. Lifting her high against his chest he growled, "I do love you and I've been so bloody foolish."

"No, not foolish," she exclaimed, "just very, very patient and considerate."

She bent her head until their lips touched and she allowed her passionate longing to flow into him. Then, breathless, she struggled free. Shrieking, she fled for the poolside and breakfast. Her message was unspoken but clear.

Peter pretended not to have understood as they trooped off exploring yet again. He led the way with an urgency that surprised Jennifer.

In Arab Street, he seemed to be searching for something as he studied the windows. Surprised by the wealth of materials and the carvings on offer, Jennifer straggled behind until Peter led her into a shop heavy with incense.

He had caught a glimpse of something - made for her beauty. Jennifer was perplexed when Peter asked the Indian shopkeeper to produce his best saris. Those piled on the counter were for customers to examine but Peter gave them only a cursory glance. The one he wanted was on display in the window.

"Benares Silk," he demanded. His Tamil sisters had taught him well.

"These are the best, young Sahib... Now Sahib, this Sari." Taking one from the pile, he lightly draped it around Jennifer's hips. "It suits the young memsahib. Just right for her coloring - and feel the texture - the finest quality."

He paused, and clapping his hands, summoned his wife from the rear of the shop.

"What would you like to drink, Memsahib?" she asked.

They sat and accepted the fresh lime sodas offered by the Indian's wife who was totally surprised when Peter thanked her in Tamil. Politely, Peter listened to the sales pitch before laughingly interrupting, "And I'm a stupid Australian. This isn't Benares Silk!"

Fingering the sari, he continued, "And this isn't gold thread. A Hong Kong factory produced this sari. Sorry." Peter began to make his way towards the entrance.

"If the Young Sahib would like to see..." The shopkeeper and Peter repeated the pantomime until Peter demanded a shirt and removed his. The shopkeeper's wife, seeing Peter's back, shrieked and the shopkeeper went seven shades of white.

"Sahib, forgive this poor, ignorant man. We do not sell shirts but if you wait a moment a shirt shall be here for you."

"Yes and I want a jeweller. Not some salesman from the Pasir Malam(night market) either."

The shopkeeper reluctantly produced the sari from the window and the haggling really began.

The purchase of the sari included the buying of a choli and a pavada. When Peter demanded the shopkeeper's wife teach Jennifer how to wear the blouse, the petticoat and the sari she took Jennifer to a room at the back of the shop.

Ashi, as he called himself, commented, "The memsahib will look beautiful. You've chosen well. However, you'll need something special to match her beauty."

Peter allowed Ashi to lead him next door to a tailor where he selected an off-cream material for a featherweight suit. His purchases included a dark brown shirt, pale cream tie and new tan shoes. With the measurements taken, Peter warned the tailor that he would be back the same afternoon to collect his purchases.

Feeling very pleased with his devious surprise, Peter returned with Ashi to see Jennifer rejoining them from the back of the shop. Her red hair down to her shoulders, and her right arm hanging free of its folds gave the sari life. She walked with such grace that the sari swished in a sexual benediction. Peter's heart stood still while Jennifer's face betrayed no emotion as she silently studied Peter's eyes.

"My God, Jennifer! If only you could see how beautiful you look! I'd whistle except that my mouth's gone funny. Quick, change out of that before I run amok."

She skipped into his arms. "Peter. You spoil me."

When Peter asked that Ashi's wife deliver Jennifer's clothing to Raffles, he was adamant that she be there to dress Jennifer by 7pm.

They returned to the hotel early in the afternoon when the steamy heat had sapped Jennifer's strength. She knew that the evening would be special and was grateful that Peter was content to hold her.

"Sleep well my love. We'll paint the town red tonight. While you sleep, I'll have a swim. Remember, this heat means I'm home."

She was already drowsing when he left.

It was easy in Arab Street to have a shave and a massage before going to the tailor's for a fitting. Dressed in the new clothes, Peter looked in the mirror to see a well-dressed almost handsome, tall, muscular Australian male. From there he returned to Ashi's to check the sari had left and to see if his order from the jeweller had arrived.

It seemed to take forever to get back to Raffles in the traffic and to start knocking on the door of their suite.

Slowly Ashi's wife opened the door. She stepped back to reveal Jennifer whose cool green eyes were pools for Peter to drown in and he could only suck in his breath in admiration of his wife's loveliness.

Finally Peter could speak.

"Mrs. O'Brien, may I have the pleasure of your company this evening?"

The emerald earrings hung from her ears. The emerald pendant lay low in the dip of her choli, which modestly revealed the tops of her breasts and the shadowy suggestion of her cleavage. The pale green sari with its gold brocade border enhanced the color of the emeralds and highlighted her beauty. Gold sandals peeking from beneath the hem of the sari told Peter she had done some shopping of her own.

"I don't know what my husband will say when he finds such a handsome, well-dressed stranger in our room." She turned Peter around. "Who was your tailor, Peter, you look terrific?"

"By the way, I found this in the corridor and I thought you may as well have it, but I don't know how you'll explain it to your husband." Grinning, Peter carefully took her right arm and fastened the emerald and diamond encrusted bracelet to her wrist.

"The card in my pocket reads 'To the most beautiful woman in Singapore', but I can't give it to you in case your husband reads it."

"It's magnificent Peter. How can I ever thank you? What can I say?" In reply, Peter's eyes flashed a very strong message and Jennifer blushed furiously.

Jennifer's coloring and the ease with which she wore the sari brought stares and murmurs of approval as they made their way down the broad staircase and across the crowded foyer to the nightclub.

The crowd watched their entrance and Jennifer felt most self-conscious as she glided across the floor, clinging tightly to Peter's arm, to a table close to the stage and the dance floor.

Their evening, however, was brief as the excitement of the past few days caught up with them and they felt too exhausted to remain. Together, they returned to their suite.

After sliding the drapes back, Peter opened the shutters wide so the full moon of the tropics lit the room. Deliberately and purposefully, he removed Jennifer's jewellery and placed the pieces on the writing table.

Jennifer's mind relished the fact that tonight they would become one. Her body melded to his and the sweet passion as they began to kiss was electrifying.

As his kisses rained down on her, intensifying their passion, Peter gently put his hand to her shoulder and began removing the sari until it lay as a silken pool at their feet.

"Ohhhh..." was the moan that replied to his action.

He unbuttoned her choli and bent low over her, caressing her breast and stomach with his lips. Still he kissed her as his fingers gently slid her blouse and pavada from her body and they slipped also to become part of the silken pool.

Her heart was pounding and she was apprehensive, but she truly wanted Peter.

Standing upright and looking into her eyes, hungrily he slid his hands over her flat stomach and her full, round breasts still confined by her lacy bra.

Jennifer reached up and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt, then removed his trousers. She threw them to the side, and they became part of the discarded clothing.

Without Realizing, they moved closer to the bedroom.

His skin felt exquisite against her. She ran her fingertips lightly over his back, tickling slightly as though she were playing a piano, raising goose bumps all over his body.

Sighing with pleasure, he buried his face between her milky white breasts, nuzzling the warm valley between them.

Her hands slid up his back and into his hair. She held his head between her breasts while he licked and kissed her tingling flesh. His body was hard, ever so muscular... he was just, well, just Peter and he was what Jennifer desired.

He slid his hands slowly down her back and was aware of the heat of her skin, as if she were running a fever. Peter wondered if that was due to how much she wanted him, but didn't wish to interrupt their loving to think about it. His hands ran down her sides, caressing her while kissing every inch of skin, discovering ways to give her pleasure.

Her silken wisps of panties were soon sliding down her legs but Jennifer seemed blissfully unaware of the loss.

She moved her legs to wrap one around his body and tilted her hips upward, even though they were both still standing, hoping to convey how much she wanted to make love with him.

He pressed his hard maleness against her in response, showing her that he wanted her just as much.

As he undid her bra and it slid to the floor, Peter couldn't believe his eyes as before him were her beautiful breasts - adequately sized but with the shape and firmness usually attributed to smaller women. The nipples, hard and wanting, turned up and out as if begging for his attention - they were his - and his heart rejoiced.

Leaning forward, and kissing her neck, he paused. Lightly he bit and kissed her earlobes. This seemed to drive her wild and he locked that up in his memory for later.

As his hands cupped her breasts, he gasped his delight. They really were as firm as they had appeared. He kissed down her neck and reached her other breast, making a line straight for one of her perfectly pink nipples.

She moaned her joy at his pleasure of her nakedness. His first attention to her earlobes, throat and neck had brought her almost to a point of exploding, but this new interest with her breasts was quickly undermining her ability to stand.

She was shaky and could feel the ardor begin to override her ability to remain upright.

She wanted him now. The need grew within her until her mind, unable to cope, shut down and she began to slide to the floor.

Holding her tightly in his arms, Peter lifted her and carried her to their bed where he lay beside her, marvelling at her naked beauty.

Jennifer studied him, the green depths of her eyes flashing their message of love.

Rolling her onto her belly, Peter began worshipping her back, marvelling at the creamy, unblemished whiteness of her skin.

As if they were unsheathed claws, he dragged his fingernails across her shoulders then down her back to her hips, all the while whispering into her ear as she writhed under the delicious assault.

"Welcome, my love, to the Tiger's Kiss."

His lips followed his fingernails and the difference - the soft sweetness of his lips and the harsh reality of his nails - began to eat into her consciousness.

"My God, Peter what are you doing?"

"Worshiping you, my own sweet love." was the soft answer.

Jennifer's eyes flew open and she gasped as the kisses swept across her buttocks. His hands curled up and held her buttocks in awe before he sat back on his haunches to study her more fully.

The air was full of her fragrance, her need, as he leant down. Again, he nibbled her ear lobes.

She writhed and groaned her pleasure into the pillow as his lips kissed her shoulders and his hands continued their merry dance. Down her sides, to the outside of her legs, they pranced until they held her ankles.

Peter lifted one foot and buried his lips in the sole before beginning to suck on each toe. The worshipping of her body continued.

She tried begging him to stop but he refused to take any notice. The second foot gained his attention before he spread her legs and began an upwards slide of fingers and lips until he reached her inner thighs.

The softness, the heat and the fragrance enticed him and he used his head to nudge her legs even wider.

The thought of what he was doing and where he was, what he could smell and that her private parts were open to his gaze and his kisses were enough to make Jennifer's body arch into a bow as her body demanded more.

"Oh Peter, I love what you're doing to me," she murmured, shivering under his touch.

Rolling onto her side Jennifer pulled his arms around her. She lay still trying to regain her breath and her thoughts.

However, Peter wouldn't give up the pleasures of her flesh, even for a moment. Gently he rolled her onto her back and she lay there beside him, her legs open, her eyes wide and misty with love.

She wasn't worried. He was far too gentle to hurt her but she was still anxious of what was to come and hoped she would be as good a lover for him as he was for her.

Gently he bent to kiss her eyelids saying, "And you thought I was queer, eh? Remember that first night?"

She answered his words with a giggle and a slap on his bare shoulder, but then her eyes closed yet again, as he recommenced his assault on her senses.

He attacked her ears, then the delicate softness of her throat. Like a vampire, he seemed attracted to her sweet neck. Her shoulders called for his kisses but still he didn't stop.

He was insatiable and rolled on top of her to lie between her legs, not allowing his full weight to crush her.

Accepting the weight of a man on her for the first time, Jennifer threw her arms around his neck and lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, begging him to take her.

His hard body was nudging at her soft entrance. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes, awaiting that first invasion. Suddenly her eyes flew open in surprise as he shrugged free of her legs and began a downwards slide until his lips and fingers were worshipping her nipples.

She gasped as his teeth gently rasped across first one nipple then the other before sucking them one at a time deep into his mouth. It was as though Peter was trying to consume her by sucking her whole body into his throat, but so gently she wished he would succeed.

Shyly she held her breasts to his mouth, demanding that he give them even more attention. With a sigh of disappointment, she felt his fingers replace his mouth that was sliding down across her flat belly to linger on her sex.

A quick kiss at the junction of her thighs and Peter's head was retracing its steps until he was kissing her once again. He rolled her onto her side and his fingers followed the downwards trail he had blazed with his mouth. They slid and danced their way down to her knees then traced a path up her inner thighs and across her groin as he whispered, "Just checking to make certain your legs join your body properly."

Jennifer was given no time to ponder over his remark. Her body begged that he touch her. She wanted him to investigate her even more. Yet she was incapable of saying anything.

She could hear soft groans of appreciation and soft begging moans in the room, and knew they were coming from her. Her eyes flashed open as two fingers slid across the lips of her secret cave and gently prised at the opening as if frightened of entering. 

His fingers were wet with her honey.

Shocked, she watched as Peter sucked them dry of her sweetness.

"Sweetheart, you are so fragrant and sweet. I must have more."

His fingers returned to investigate her treasure, this time examining slowly, not pausing at the entrance but carefully exploring around and around her honeyed cave.

Each light touch brought waves of bliss to her. Arching off the bed, she kissed Peter even more passionately as the pleasure took control of her mind and body.

Peter once more began a deliberate descent, kissing first her breasts then her nipples. He slid lower to kiss her belly, making her jolt and writhe, much to his delight.

She shivered as his tongue and lips sent waves of sensations through her body.

It was as if he had wired himself to her mind.

Trying to lift her head Jennifer failed. She smiled to herself as his mouth reached her pubic region, but he avoided her sex to attack her inner thighs yet again. This teasing made her moan, but also made her want him more.

Finally, he gave into his desire and began to devour her. Starting at her wet opening, he stuck his tongue hard into her, tasting her abundant juices and making her exhale sharply. He used his thumb to massage her clitoris, allowing him a perfect view of her little love button. His tongue darted out and he began to pleasure her in earnest.

Jennifer couldn't believe what she was feeling.

Peter had just begun to worship her sex with his tongue and lips, and already she was teetering on the peak of orgasm. As his tongue began to flick her clit, she grasped the sheet and held on for dear life. He began to apply more pressure with his tongue, and she believed she was going to lose control.

Not content, he slowly slid a finger almost inside her.

She grabbed a pillow to smother her screams and she could feel her inner muscles begin to clench.

As if her clit were some delicacy, he licked, sucked and gently chewed it without a pause. True, she was delicious to taste but he wanted more.

Jennifer rode the wave of pleasure as Peter continued gently to savor her sex, both of them floating in a bubble of love.

She was a slave to her femininity.

Peter paused, lying still for a moment. He watched her eyes open before dropping his head to clamp his mouth yet again to her sex.

She groaned, "Peter let me rest." He couldn't hear her. His attention was on her delight and her legs were tight against his ears. Lapping her wetness, his tongue sucked her honey into his mouth, searching her honeyed cave just like his fingers.

Before she could gather her thoughts and speak again, Peters' mouth once more clamped on her clit and his tongue buffeted it.

She reached out to his face, brushing it lightly, overwhelmed at his gentleness and love.

Reluctantly she took his face in her hands and separated him from her sex. Drawing him up level with her own face, she kissed him, tasting herself on his lips.

She pushed him off her.

He complied, and she looked him in the eye as her hands went to his groin.

She rolled her tongue around in his mouth, causing his already swollen spear to jump against her leg. Quickly her hands clasped around his hardness.

Jennifer sighed aloud. That's what she wanted.

His little one was far from little and she began to wonder how she would take it.

Slowly stroking Peter, she kissed her way down his body, nibbling his nipples, blowing warm air over his belly and running her tongue momentarily over the base of his penis. Kneeling alongside his calves, Jennifer looked into his eyes seductively as she lowered her face towards his hardness.

Peter tried to pull her up but she'd have none of it.

"Jennifer you don't have to do that!" he remonstrated.

Ignoring his demand with, "Now it's my turn," she returned to the task in hand.

It was the sexiest thing that he'd ever seen. As she pulled back his foreskin with her right hand and studied his manhood with intense fascination, Peter gasped as he felt her hands on his hot shaft.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 23



As her hands moved up and down his rigid penis, one finger lovingly dragged across the head, swirling around it and massaging it.

Peter knew he'd have to be careful. He had plans and it wouldn't pay to explode in her hands. He cleared his mind, relaxing and reveling in the feelings starting at his penis and washing over his body.

Her fingers delicately danced over the head as she studied it, always managing to find a special spot on the base. As she began to stroke him harder, Peter took her head in his hand and motioned for her to stop.

Jennifer took one last long pull of his spear on the way back up, licked her own lips and smiled. She flipped over onto her back as Peter paused to catch his breath.

His love for this woman had made his sensitivity all that more intense and never before had he experienced such amazing sensations.

Peter regained his composure and propped himself up, running his eyes over this glorious creature - his wife, whom he loved so dearly. Gentle curves, milky-white skin, beautiful breasts and a face that made him weak in the knees, this girl was heaven to his eyes.

Jennifer's head sank back into the pillow.

Peter leaned over to kiss her sensuously on the lips.

Her hands went around his waist as their tongues met, caressing and lightly rubbing each other. Jennifer broke off their kiss, and whispered into his ear.

"Please Peter now. I want to feel you inside me."

Kneeling between her ankles, Peter worshipped her legs. The smell of her arousal was intoxicating, and he would have devoured her again had he not been desperate to feel her silken sheath around him.

Peter guided his hardness to her wet, begging entrance as Jennifer gazed on in anticipation.

Jennifer gasped as she began to feel him sliding up and down her sex slit until he almost lodged in her entrance. She was tight but felt no pain as he tenderly tried easing his manhood into her. She exhaled sharply as Peter began to withdraw his penis only to slide back against her entrance, as if lubricating her passage to allow him more freedom of movement.

He bumped against her hymen and stopped but she wasn't prepared to wait.

Reaching down she cruelly dug her fingernails into his buttocks. He jerked in response and he had breached her last battlement.

He was completely inside her.

Jennifer relished the feeling of having Peter totally filling her as he gasped in amazement. She was so hot and tight he could barely believe it. Her sex was a silken heaven around his manhood as he began to move in and out of her, taking short strokes to start with, and then increasing his speed, always at a steady rhythm.

Jennifer's eyes were wide with a look of surprise at this new feeling of invasion.

"My God," was all she could utter.

She shuddered beneath him as he moved his body over her, using his back and his hips to their full potential. She could feel his pubic hair on her own crotch as he buried himself repeatedly into her, filling her completely and stimulating her in a way that she would never have believed possible.

Slowing his pace to avoid exploding, Peter struggled to maintain control. He had never felt anything this good in his life.

She wrapped her legs around him, as he loved her in a very primal, animalistic way, letting her hands trail over his chest as his damp body pleasured her.

He began moving even faster and even more vigorously.

Jennifer decided it was time to take control.

She lightly pushed against Peter's chest as a signal to slow down. As his pace eased, she was able to concentrate. Jennifer motioned for him to lie on his back next to her.

Without a word, he followed her directions.

In silence, she straddled his body, looking deep into his eyes as she took his throbbing manhood in her hand. Slowly she pushed the head into her wetness and sank down onto him, impaling herself and drawing a groan from her lover.

Peter let his eyes roll into the back of his head as Jennifer began to ride him, maintaining a steady rhythm. Regaining control, he looked up at her beautiful form, rising and falling atop his body. Grabbing a firm hold on both of her full ass cheeks, he brought her to her hands and knees on top of him so he could tilt his hips to drive into her from below at a blinding pace.

"I want to feel you come," Jennifer moaned into Peter's ear as she began to pick up her rhythm once again, this time gaining a more effective angle, providing stimulation to her g-spot and extracting a series of unintelligible noises from Peter. As she began to ride him at a crazy tempo, he felt his stomach begin to tighten with the telltale signs of orgasm.

The feeling built within his loins, spreading throughout his body, he ran his hands along Jennifer's body, his eyes widening as he felt himself reach his peak.

He remembered the look of shock on Jennifer's face as she was plunged into a massive, electrifying orgasm. Her sex contracted around his manhood, and he rose to climax himself in a flash of absolute ecstasy.

The feelings overtaking his body intensified as he felt the satisfaction rush from his body to explode inside her.

Seeing the look on his face, hearing his loud groan and feeling his penis swell within her, Jennifer rejoiced.

Gripping each other tightly, they had reached the peak together. Jennifer's sex squeezed his penis as it filled her full of thick, warm semen. Their orgasms seemed to have no end, feeding from each another as they both spasmed, organs and arms interlocked, moaning into each other's mouths as they attempted to kiss.

They were husband and wife in name and in deed.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 24



They spent the night in restless sleep and with periods of intense loving.

As the boom, boom, boom of the local mosque calling the faithful to prayers shattered Jennifer's nap she felt the warmth of Peter cuddling her back and the determination of his little one to go exploring again. Very aware of her nakedness, she was startled as she heard him chuckle.

"So trying to seduce me again, eh? We have no time for that. Come on - there's a water shortage in Singapore so we'll shower together, but don't get your hopes up, as we have to leave quickly. We have a very busy day ahead of us."

Grabbing her hand, he dragged her into the bathroom and under the shower with him. Ignoring her complaints at his bossiness, he soaped her back, lingering over her buttocks and legs then turned her around to begin on her front. Smiling, he watched her eyes close and heard her shy moans. Next, he gave close attention to her breasts and his mouth claimed her nipples.

Jennifer pulled his head closer to her as she drove Peter onwards. Spreading her legs wide, she felt those gentle hands climbing from her knees to her groin on the pretext of soaping and washing her. A protest burst from her lips as Peter slid down to kiss her sex and to probe her treasure cave with his tongue in search of her honey.

"Peter, you're insatiable. You just told me we're in a hurry and here we go again! Will you please stop?"

Jennifer tried in vain to sound annoyed as she continued, "What are you doing?"

Seeking to overcome her resistance, Peter looked up at her with a hangdog look on his face.

"Loving my dear, darling wife," he answered. "And I will never stop."

Laughing, she grabbed the face washer and rubbed it into his face.

Her laughter encouraged him. Giving his full attention to pleasuring her before rising to his feet, he turned her around, allowing his penis to rise between her legs before he bent her over to cling to the handrail. She felt that marvelous slide as he entered her, and the incredible feeling of his filling her as one hand gently tugged her nipples and the other dipped to play with her clit. Together they climbed the mountain and together they clung to each other as they leapt off the peak to explode in ecstasy.

After recovering and drying each other with the thick, white hotel towels, hand in hand, they returned to the bedroom and Jennifer, horrified, saw specks of her virgin blood on the sheets.

"Peter what will we do? Everyone will know!" she cried.

Peter laughed before giving her a hug and kissing her forehead. "We'll dress. Then we'll pack some clothes. My friends here will look after everything, as they know who I am. Look in the writing room where we took off all our clothes."

Jennifer was amazed. On the writing table was her sari, freshly washed and ironed, along with her undergarments and jewellery. Peter's suit was there, also cleaned and pressed. Even his shoes were polished.

A note said it all, "Mem, we prayed that The Little One would be a good lover for you and Lakshmi answered our prayers. May Ganesha protect your home and look after you and yours."

Discouraging Jennifer from dawdling or ordering breakfast, Peter quickly led her to the hotel entrance.

A Mini Cooper S, the same color and same fittings as hers in Australia, drew up. The driver handed the keys to Peter who passed them to Jennifer.

"You drive and I'll navigate," he said.

As it was too early for peak hour traffic, they were soon driving across the Causeway. Jennifer was thankful for Peter's quiet instructions and found she was soon enjoying threading her way through the motor bikes and bicycles.

The Johore Baru Customs gave her passport a cursory glance but Peter's passport caused a flurry.

Jennifer became a little frightened when two Malay police officers escorted Peter to the Police Stand where he engaged in a long conversation with the officers. She was relieved when an officer accompanied her smiling husband to their car.

The officer walked around to Jennifer's window.

"Selamat datang ke Malaysia, Puan O'Brien. Welcome to Malaysia," he said. Then with a smile he added, "Drive carefully and don't let Tuan behind the wheel."

"Let's go," Peter began. "They were interested in me as my passport showed many visits here and needed to know what we were doing. Everything became clear when I said we're on our honeymoon. Now away we go. Turn left at the next intersection and follow the road signs that say Kuala Lumpur. Get ready for a Malay breakfast or possibly Indian."

"Isn't the tollway a delight to drive on?" remarked Jennifer. "But I'm very wary of the motor bikes, especially those with three or more people on them." Jennifer was enjoying driving, as the highway, a multi-lane tollway, was better than she expected.

Seeing a group of attaps, huts built of bamboo and banana leaves, looming, Peter recommended slowing and leaving the main road. He pointed out where to park and together they walked into the area full of makan stalls.

"'Makan' is 'food' in Malay," explained Peter, "and sit on your left hand. The teapot - well what you think is a silver teapot - is full of water. Take it in your left hand and drip the water over your right then shake your hand dry." Patiently he explained the traditions of Malay eating demonstrating as he spoke.

"Dua te au, dua nasi lemak, dua sop ayam."

Jennifer was surprised how easily the words rolled off his lips.

"Satu merterbak."

The meal arrived. Huge portions of rice, a black tea - sweetened - a broth with chicken pieces beside the bowl and on another plate what seemed to be an omelette. Peter explained that it was a type of bread, roti canai, filled with minced meat, curry with eggs and onion. He commenced eating.

Watching Peter carefully, Jennifer followed his lead and noted that the Malay men were studying her intently. It was obvious they were curious about Peter but were too polite to ask any questions. Nevertheless, she felt uncomfortable.

With the meal ended, Peter bellowed and men rushed with accounts which he didn't deign to read scattering Ringgit on the table before standing. Taking her arm, he escorted her back to the car after they had washed their hands at the communal sink.

"That was a Halal, Moslem Food, Makan Stall. I'm sorry the stares of the Malay men embarassed you."

Changing the topic he added, "Look for the Melaka turnoff and take that. It will be on the left."

Toll payments were small, tollbooths came and went and it was barely 9.20 when armed guards halted them at the entrance to an army camp.

A heated conversation in Malay ensued until an officer came to the car and, satisfied with Peter's credentials, saluted before waving them through.

Guided by Peter, Jennifer drove to the Parade Ground. She didn't understand the officer's Malay command. "Fall out the guard," as they drove off. The Officer was preparing for Peter's departure.

Seeing Jennifer's uneasiness caused by the military surroundings, Peter explained that this had been the Ghurkha's camp when he served with them, but it now belonged to the Malaysian Army.

At the Parade Ground, Peter stood beside the car and Jennifer made no sound as she held his hand. He was living with the ghosts of his past and he could hear the drums, the pipes and the brass band of his regiment on that fateful day when he took the Regimental Salute. His eyes clouded with memories but he was holding himself ramrod straight and she knew his thoughts were there, reliving his history.

Finally, with a deep sigh, he came back to the present and smiled at his wife as he sat her in the passenger's seat.

"My turn to drive," he remarked.

As they returned to the main gateway, Jennifer saw two lines of soldiers standing to attention on either side of the gate. The same officer, who welcomed them when they arrived, asked Peter to inspect the guard.

Jennifer leaned back in her seat asking herself what more was there to discover about this man. She thought she had learned all there was to know about him but she was finding more and more day-by-day and she liked what she was uncovering. He was hers and she was happy.

Past rubber plantations, past palm oil plantations and into the outskirts of KL they drove.

Jennifer was tiring and was glad Peter had taken over the driving so she could just sit back to enjoy the scenery and Peter's running commentary.

The only movement she made was when his hand slipped to her knee and began wandering. With a slap, she reminded him that he had to behave while he was driving. However, her giggle told him his attention was most welcome and it held a smiling promise for later, when they arrived at their hotel.

Peter drove to the entrance of the Regent Hotel and handed the keys to the doorman.

"Please park the car and arrange to have the bags taken to our suite," he directed as he grasped Jennifer's hand and led her across the lobby to where two sari-clad young women were waiting. Jennifer recognized them from the wedding - they were Peter's two Tamil sisters.

"Two o'clock you said, and two o'clock it is, Peter," said one, looking at her watch.

Her sister joined in. "Poor Jennifer! I'll bet you have led her a merry dance, Peter. You have no consideration!" and his two Tamil sisters began to berate him for his lack of attention to the needs of his wife.

"Come on Jennifer, let's eat. I'll bet all he's eaten is that chili dish of his. How he doesn't burn his tongue we'll never know, but does it make him hot stuff?"

Jennifer tried to answer but couldn't get a word in edgeways.

Ignoring her blush, the sisters showed by their impish grins and tinkling laughter that there was no intention of offending.

The two young women, one on each side of Jennifer and clinging to her arms, marched off leaving Peter to trail behind. Chattering gaily, the women were oblivious to his presence.

Even at the meal table, they ignored him until he ordered chilies and fresh limes and sodas - no sugar.

"Peter, you've not changed! You know there are foods available that don't need chilies." His sisters knew him well.

Without asking Jennifer, they ordered some white wine and fish with chips.

Laughing, they explained they believed she would be missing good Australian tucker and Jennifer couldn't help asking how they knew the Australian idiom so well.

One ruffled Peter's hair, explaining, "You can't be around this man without learning something. What have you done to him, Jennifer? He's glowing and looks so happy. Come on explain your secret. Can he keep his hands to himself?" They had noticed Peter reaching for Jennifer's hand.

She blushed again, and this time the blush rose to the very roots of her hair, but the sisters prattled on disregarding her embarrassment. Immediately the meal ended and the girls took their leave.

"Jennifer, rest. We'll be back at five and will be taking you off for some pampering. Peter, drown in the pool for the afternoon and let your poor wife have some peace without your trying to attack her. Put you hands in your pockets for a while, not on poor Jennifer. She must be black and blue with your paw prints."

Giggling, they left while Peter, his arm around Jennifer's waist, collected the keys to their room.

Holding her against the wall of the lift, he tried to kiss her senseless. She struggled, whispering, "Behave Peter. Someone will get in."

"Don't care if they do, but I sure won't be kissing them."

Giggling she held him off until they arrived at their floor.

Peter kicked the door of the suite to slam it behind them.

Pinning Jennifer to the wall, he pressed his mouth to hers, allowing his need to wash over her. She pretended to resist but her tongue and her mouth met his with just as much need. Ignoring her struggles, he started to undress her as her hands stole from his chest to around his neck.

Slowly her clothes slid to the floor. Her eyes opened as Peter's lips trailed their way from her mouth to her eyes to her forehead to her earlobes then her back and shoulders before starting a downward, slow, deliberate descent to her breasts. She felt the clasp of her bra being undone and marveled at how deliberate and painstakingly gentle he was in undressing her. Gasping, she enjoyed his attentions as he kissed under and around each breast so delicately that when he looked up, her eyes queried his actions.

"Just butterfly kisses!" His words answered her unspoken question.

He continued to undress them both but, when he tried to kneel, she grasped his hair to pull him back to her lips.

"No Peter, not yet."

Ignoring her wishes, he slipped his hands behind her knees and swung her up into his arms to carry her under the shower where they clung to each other, enjoying the needle spray lashing their skin and revitalising their bodies after the debilitating heat of the topics.

The water poured over them as they clung to each other, kissing deeply as they tried to drown the other in their love. Soap, bubble gel and hair shampoo were all used to good effect until Peter was groaning with pleasure while Jennifer was gasping her need for his thick hardness.

Realizing the bed was close by, Peter turned off the water and began drying his wife, marvelling at her beauty, her faultless skin and her flawless breasts. He thanked God for the gift of this woman as he carried her to the bed. He pulled the sheet over her before lying beside her.

"Sleep my love. We have such a lot to do tonight. Don't be concerned about the time when my sisters come to pick you up, as tonight is one big celebration. I'll see you at the party."

Jennifer made a quick call to the hotel concierge, asking that they ring her in an hour to wake her from a much-needed sleep. Peter left. She crawled into bed and curled up to sleep in the cool of the air conditioning.

Startled when the phone rang, Jennifer quickly got up and dressed. In Singapore, the Chinese sisters had caught her in a drowsy state and she didn't wish for a repetition this time.

Knock, knock.

The moment Jennifer opened the door, the rush of her two Tamil sisters almost bowled her over as they scurried into the room.

"Peter, come out here now! We told you to leave Jennifer alone and let her rest. What happened - god you're an insatiable sex fiend. If only we had known all those years ago we'd never have let you escape."

Giggling, they went from room to room, ignoring Jennifer's comment that Peter had left and she'd been sleeping.

They began nosing around. Seeing her sari, choli and pavada, they commented.

"How beautiful! All those hours we spent training Peter in the selection of saris were not in vain."

"Now, as we are in saris, then so are you."

They redressed her, with such careful attention to her hair and the folds of the shimmering fabric that as they swept across the hotel foyer all male heads turned to watch the progress of three sari-clad beauties parading to their transport.

"Come on, let's have some fun shopping," Jennifer smiled as she had waved Peter's credit card before their eyes. "We'll fix Peter and his surprises."

There was no argument.

At the beauty parlour, three young Indian women in white business dustcoats escorted them to a special room. The women waited for their three customers to strip and soak in huge tubs of hot, fragrant water before leading them to three massage tables.

The three women had their hair and nails done followed by facials - the lot. They spared no expense with Jennifer signing the credit slips for everything. Imagining the look on Peter's face when he received his credit card statement made them laugh.

Their next stop was a sari shop where they purchased three identical saris with gold sandals and undergarments.

Now let's go and have fun stirring up men," were their cheeky, grinning words.

By the time they left the jewellers, they were all wearing new gold toe rings, gold bells around their ankles, gold bangles on their arms and gold nose rings in their noses. The long dangling heavy gold earrings at first felt most uncomfortable for Jennifer but with the red ochre dot between her eyebrows, she believed she was just as much Tamil as Peter's sisters.

Back at the hotel, they dressed in their new saris and finery before parading into the bar with the tinkle of their ankle bells to accompany their steps.

Jennifer could feel that all the attention in the room was on them. Not for a second did the women's eyes stop twinkling nor their happy conversation falter. While sipping their fruit juices they swapped stories about Peter's exploits in the jungle as he put his own life at risk to protect them.

When they began softly speaking of Peter's mother and her place in the sorry saga, Jennifer began to question them closely.

"Was she beautiful? Did she love Peter and her husband? Why did she take that horrible man as her lover?"

"Lover? Lover?" They were horrified.

"He was never her lover. Not once was he her lover. Every time he took her, it was rape and he was vicious and cruel, not worrying about her feelings or body at all. The more he hurt her and the more she bled after his so-called loving, the more he was pleased. No they were never lovers."

Tears came to Jennifer's eyes as the bizarre account of horror and degradation unfolded.

"While Peter was with his tutors, Peter's mother, Anna, took us under her wing, explaining the dangers waiting for us, being female in this jungle world. She was our surrogate mother while ever the bastard leader was away. Anna told us of the horror of her life, explaining how she came to be in this terrible situation.

"Eui Si Soon snatched Anna while she was shopping in Penang Road. He drugged and repeatedly raped her in a brothel where he was safe from inquisitive police eyes. He constantly blackmailed her, saying that he would show her husband photos of her with him in a brothel. Additionally, he threatened to kill both her husband and son if she told anyone. It was this threat of death that made her submit to his demands.

"Anna was terrified for our welfare, given that our maturity into womanhood was almost upon us. She insisted that we do exactly what Peter asked, as she believed that in spite of his young age he would keep us safe.

"Despite the constant terror and horrific rapes that caused her face and body to show the ravages of age, we could tell she had been a beautiful lady.

"The guards separated Peter and Anna at all times, ensuring she was unable to communicate with her son privately. Once they captured Anna, she never again spoke with Peter alone.

"She was beautiful and every inch a lady - giving everything up for her son. Yes Jennifer, she was a true lady and she would be delighted that you're her son's wife."

One of the sisters glanced at her watch and noted the time. She stood.

"But enough of the sadness! We must go now. Father will be expecting us."

The three made their way slowly up the broad staircase to the ballroom while many young men's eyes followed them.

Jennifer watched as, with their hands held in a prayer attitude, her two new sisters made a bow to the tall grey-headed Tamil man standing at the closed doors. Following suit, she was astounded that this distinguished looking Tamil effortlessly lifted her off her feet.

A deep, booming laugh rolled over her.

"Now I have three daughters and they are all beautiful, but I'm afraid my two girls could have led you astray Jennifer. Did they take you shopping?" He laughed at his own joke.

"Welcome! I'm so proud and happy to be standing here welcoming you. What a wonderful woman Peter has for his wife."

Two attendants swung the brass doors open and the twins fell in behind as their father, with Jennifer on his arm, made a triumphal march into the room.

Jennifer recoiled from the strong aroma of incense that seemed to hang heavily in the air. She clung to the handsome Indian's arm as she saw a huge idol of an elephant with one broken tusk and nursing a rat, standing against the far wall.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 24



Wild applause greeted them and Jennifer was astounded to find the room full of saris and suits, all seated on green carpets with banana leaves before them. At the end of the ballroom squatted the elephant-headed Hindu god, Ganesha - the god of the family hearth. At its feet on a pillow was Peter who stood as she approached. Taking both hands in his, he faced her before turning to introduce her in Tamil to the assembled crowd. He repeated the introduction in English.

Delighted by Jennifer's arrival, he helped her sit on the cushions by his side.

The crowd was quiet and the silence seemed to continue indefinitely.

Jennifer looked around and was not surprised to see her parents seated to her left and her new Tamil sisters sitting on either side of Andrew, who for once was silent - overcome by the weird situation.

Eventually the faintest tinkling of a bell broke the silence and a tall, bearded figure clad in long white robes strode into the room followed by two women carrying a huge brass tray between them on which a single flame was visible. Two halves of a cracked coconut framed the flickering flame.

The priest, as Jennifer surmised, approached Peter and knelt. He dipped his fingers into the white powder on the tray, and opening Peter's mouth, flicked some onto his tongue before anointing him with some of the milk from the open coconut.

Duplicating his actions with Jennifer, he stood, and holding the tray high above Jennifer and Peter, he went into a trance while chanting in a monotonous high-pitched voice.

Just as suddenly as he began, he stopped chanting, wheeled around and disappeared through the main entrance.

The silence continued as white-clad waiters carrying brass trays appeared and dolloped huge mounds of rice on the banana leaves before each of the guests. Peter quietly whispered to Jennifer, "Remember right hand only." before resuming his formal position, staring stoically ahead.

The guests feasted on curries of various hues and degrees of heat, until Peter's Tamil Father clapped his hands and the waiters cleared the remnants of the meal, including the banana leaves. He then took a bowl and a towel which he draped over his arm.

As he approached, Peter extended his hands. His Tamil father washed Peter's hands and dried them before repeating the action with Jennifer.

Immediately the silence was broken, everyone stood and moved to talk with Peter and Jennifer, until a sea of saris swept them up. Her family suddenly broke through the throng to tell her of their adventures.

She could only laugh when her brother capped their stories by saying, "You have married a family of drunkards. Dad and I are still recovering from a night on the tiles drinking Toddy(the drawn sap, especially. when fermented, of any of several toddy palms, used as a drink) with your relations. Boy can they drink! I am sure they have hollow legs."

Before she became too engrossed in her family's adventures, her twin sisters rescued her.

"Jennifer, you did well. Fancy banana leaves and fingers for a meal?" Nethianie began giggling.

Sasimala continued, "We would have warned you, but father would have been most unhappy had we done so. Peter must've warned you of our customs.

"Your parents and brother did well too. It must have been even stranger for them."

Nethianie cut across her sister's words. "Wait a bit, we're going nightclubbing. Hope we haven't worn you out. We're taking Andrew too."

It wasn't long before Peter's Tamil Father approached Jennifer. "You're a worthy wife to our Peter. If only my wife had lived long enough to be here tonight. Now off you go with my daughters and don't let them get you into too much trouble."

With the three women leading the way, Peter and Andrew followed and slipped into the limousine beside the driver while the girls prattled incessantly in the back.

At the nightclub, Jennifer was astounded when two young men joined them and Peter introduced them as the twins' husbands.

"But I didn't see either of you at the banquet!" he exclaimed.

With broad smiles they replied, "Of course not, you only had eyes for Peter."

Andrew was still busy dancing with young women who were demanding his attention when many hours later Jennifer and Peter left.

Peter looked quite pleased when his sisters lightly kissed him on the cheek. "Tomorrow morning's transport is arranged, Peter," was Nethianie's whispered comment.

When he turned to see if Jennifer had heard, he found her watching her brother with his arms around a particularly elegant young Indian and was unaware of the conversation.

A limousine waited to take them back to the hotel. As they drove, Jennifer silently cuddled into Peter.

Back in the hotel room Peter laughed, "Come here my sexy wife."

He sat on the bed arms, his outstretched calling Jennifer. Getting no response and hearing nothing he walked into the lounge area to see Jennifer standing patiently, hands at her side, grinning and waiting for him.

"No, you come here my sexy husband." Giggling, she stared at him as her hands began removing his clothing while Peter struggled to hold her hands. "Oh, no you don't," Jennifer laughed as she pushed his hands aside. "What's good for the gander is good for this goose."

They stripped each other, with more attention to kissing than to removing clothes, playfully pushing and shoving each other until they were under the shower and washing the heat of the evening and the tiredness from their bodies.

Then, exhausted after the long, difficult day they lay quietly in each other's arms talking over the day's events.

"I'm going on strike - yes, truly, a big strike too." Jennifer sounded annoyed as Peter's eyes opened wide in surprise.

"If you ever, ever, ever put me in a position like tonight again!" she threatened. "Fancy, not warning me about the banquet! Banana leaves and fingers. Listen boyo, this farm girl gave up such things when she put away her dollies and her doll's house!" 

Peter dragged her against his shoulder and kissed her hair lightly.

"I was sworn to secrecy by my father, and my sisters were threatened with death if they warned you. The banana leaves were a mark of great honor to the pair of us and you won everyone's heart, even if you didn't have much success scooping up the liquid curries."

A punch in the arm was the reply to his comment.

"I didn't even have time to talk to Mum, Dad or Andrew very much. Your Tamil father manipulated me all night, but it was a wonderful way of welcoming us - different, very different - but still considerate."

Soon their voices dimmed and they slept.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 25



In the darkness of early morn, Peter lay awake, thinking of the day ahead. Yes, his sisters had told him they had arranged helicopter transport to take them up country. Yes, he was prepared and yes, he was with his wife.

Looking at the clock he realized it was almost time to leave. He nudged Jennifer until she groaned, "Let me sleep, I'm so tired, just let me sleep."

"Sweetheart, I've been a demanding arrogant husband - bossing you around - buying your clothes - being a real male chauvinistic pig. Please bear with me today and I promise you that after today you'll choose what we're to do.

"However, I'm claiming today as mine, and it will be the last time I boss you. We're equals in this marriage, although right now you are probably thinking otherwise. Today we're flying by chopper to visit my father's grave, my mother's grave and then the Malay aborigines who gave me a life."

"Our day will finish in Penang - the island where my horror began. We'll be staying at one of the great Hotels of the East.

"The 'Peninsular and Orient', the old P&O as it's lovingly called. I'll take you to my old school. Then we'll go to where I lived.

"The ghosts will finally be laid to rest. Just put up with my emotions today. It's really going to be most difficult for me, but with you beside me I'll gain the strength I need."

Within the hour, Jennifer sat between the pilot and Peter in the bubble cockpit with seemingly nothing between her and the soft green below. Clinging tightly to Peter's hand, Jennifer felt the chopper swivel and swoop. She listened to Peter's reassuring voice in her headphones as he calmly navigated their route.

Then, with a stomach-lurching drop, the chopper landed on a wide expanse of green where a road swung around in a big loop. As soon as the blades hissed to a standstill, Peter helped Jennifer to the ground, and hand in hand, they walked across the road to the jungle's edge.

She felt the tension building up in him as his hand tightened in hers. They approached the solitary white cross almost disappearing into the foliage around it. She found it hard to read the brass plaque. 'Squadron Leader... shot... No trace of his wife or son...' was as far as she got before tears began streaming from her eyes.

Peter sank to his knees.

With her hand on his shoulder, Jennifer wondered how she, who was overcome by the heat, the silence, the tranquility and the words on the plaque, could possibly be of any comfort to her husband.

Neither moved until the distant sound of a truck painfully crawling its way up the mountainside broke the silence.

Only then did Peter stand, and with his arm around Jennifer said, "Dad, this is your daughter whom I love most deeply."

A sudden puff of air plucked at Jennifer's hair and in spite of the intense heat, she shivered.

"Thank you Dad. I'm glad you're pleased."

Mutely they stood until the noise of the truck faded into the distance.

Jennifer jumped as Peter's voice broke across the jungle. "Guide me o Thou Great Jehovah..." and the words seemed to come from his heart with such intensity that Jennifer could only put her arm around his waist hugging him to her.

Slowly and pensively, they walked back to board the tiny chopper again.

Spiralling into the clouds before dashing northwards, the chopper eventually swooped low over the jungle rooftop once more. Soft, lush green seemed to stretch forever until Peter leant across to tap the pilot's leg, pointing down.

Jennifer couldn't see any break in the trees - any clearing - but still the chopper began to float carefully and gently downwards until, with a slight bump, they landed, and the oppressive heat and peacefulness replaced the noise of the engine.

The pilot hastily left the cockpit to stand beside the chopper with a rifle.

"Tiger country, Mem," he commented.

Realizing the danger, Jennifer shuddered at the words.

Peter - a different Peter - dropped to the ground. Crouching low and ignoring Jennifer, he ran towards the derelict huts virtually covered in undergrowth. He didn't stop running until he reached a spot that would once have been in the center of the group of buildings. There he dropped to his knees, ignoring the mud.

Jennifer could hear the wail of his agony as he looked at four wooden faded white pegs still hammered into the ground and showing signs of loving care.

Not wanting to intrude in his sorrow, yet knowing, as his wife, she was now part of his experiences, she slowly walked to join him.

The oppressive heat, the cruel humidity, the absence of any sound and the absolute dearth of any breeze made Jennifer wonder how he had managed for all those years. The air seemed to be pushing down on her and very quickly, she was perspiring freely. Her clothes clung to her skin like wet rags and her hair hung lankly to her shoulders.

The jungle distressed her, but this day was not about her. She had to stand by her husband and comfort him in his misery.

"Mum! Why, why, why? Why didn't I save you? Why, why, why?" He threw his head up and screamed his agony to the heavens as tears streamed from his eyes.

A quick puff of air seemed to be tugging at Jennifer's skirt and didn't die until she was standing with Peter's head pulled against her legs, holding him tightly and allowing him to weep in the security of her presence.

The only noise was the soft sound of Peter's sobbing.

The light filtering into the clearing was almost eerie. Shadows and light seemed to be vying with each other and Jennifer felt a strange presence in the air. Still holding Peter against her body, she strained to see past the far hut. In that unnatural light, she was positive there were two people carefully studying her.

One was a blonde female, the other a man in an Australian Air Force uniform and they were smiling at her. To clear her mind she shook her head and looked again. Only the eerie shadows returned her gaze. She was sure that two hands, one male and one female, patted her shoulder.

Realizing she had been hallucinating in the overpowering humidity, she looked again but was startled to find a wizened old man - brown and weather-beaten - kneeling in front of them.

Gently the old man lifted Peter's head and to Jennifer's amazement, he motioned for her to step back. Although he said nothing, Jennifer knew she must obey. He peeled Peter's sweat-soaked shirt from his body as he seemed to order him to stand.

Following his directions, Peter stood and turned.

The old man, seeing Peter's heavily scarred back, let out a joyous whoop and the clearing was suddenly full of sarong-clad men.

The old man, obviously the leader, extended an arm towards Jennifer, and with his palm facing downwards, waved his fingers from his wrist outwards in a gesture of dismissal. He watched her walk backwards, her eyes on him the whole time until his hand went up to stop her.

The men lit a fire between Peter and this tribal elder. Once the fire was well ablaze, the men piled green leaves on it. Pungent, acrid smoke rose and even at her distance from the fire Jennifer's eyes began to water and her head spun from the pungent odour of the burning leaves.

The chief studied Peter's fingers and the palms of his hands, and stared hard into his eyes as if trying to read his soul before he spoke.

Only Peter and the sarong-clad men understood his words.

"Little One," croaked the chief, "You have done well and the gods are smiling on you. You're truly blessed to have this woman, as your wife." Disdainfully the chief nodded towards Jennifer. "You and she will grow old together with your children, and will be very happy."

Then he thrust his head up and squinted hard at Peter. Taking Peter's face in his hands he stared silently at him for whole minutes until Jennifer wanted to scream at the silence.

"But," he continued in the same unknown language, "The gods demand a payment, and a harsh reckoning it will be. Don't ever forget that you and she love each other and that you are together through eternity. However, you will be trialled, and the ordeal will be extremely demanding and dangerous. It may last for the next few months or maybe even years... I cannot tell. The suffering ends when I learn to fly."

His cackling laughter caused Jennifer to strain her eyes, peering though the misty grey smoke that concealed him and Peter, trying to see more.

"Peter, we trained you to be a man. Now we tell you this: do not struggle against my words. They outline your destiny. There is death, many deaths, many violent deaths, but your woman loves you and is always yours no matter how it seems. Make certain The Little One never turns away from her or lets her down.

"To assist you..." he paused and held out an elaborately carved gold ring, "take this. It is a weapon to use in the jungle you know as civilisation."

He began teaching Peter, as he did so many years previously, how to use this new weapon. This time it was a deadly cobra ring.

Pausing, he looked into Peter's eyes carefully as if trying to decide if his words had sunk in. Then satisfied, he ordered Peter, "Bring her to me."

Abruptly he dismissed Peter, not allowing for any questions, and stared into the fire as hesitantly, Jennifer allowed Peter to seat her on the opposite side of the fire from the old man.

She failed to notice that Peter had removed himself to the far side of the clearing.

"Jennifer."

She was visibly startled when the old man addressed her in Oxford English.

"Oh, don't look surprised. I've known your name since Peter first met you at the bar and performed - The Dance of the Little Swans - wasn't it?

"No, never has Peter contacted me since leaving the jungle so many years ago nor did he tell anyone of his plans for today. He is secretive, that man of yours. However, for all his faults, he is a good man. He'll follow you to hell and back.

"The near future will be extremely painful, but those demanding times will eventually end. Constantly remember that Peter is yours and you are his forever. Never lose sight of that for a single moment. To assist you, take this snake bracelet.

"When I entwine the two bracelets it will be a symbol that the sorry saga has ended. Your life with Peter will resume with no further interference."

Carefully he separated the two serpents and slid one-half of the bracelet onto Jennifer's wrist. The other half he kept.

Jennifer studied the ornately carved, silver snake bracelet embedded with jade, rubies and diamonds. Gently she ran her fingers over the scales of the snake and was surprised that she felt an inner peace overpower her.

"This is your destiny and to show you that, 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy', you will return home, and the horror will end when I learn to fly.

"You will have twin girls who will be the first of your brood.

"Tell no one of what I have said, but hold it in your heart."

Still cackling at the utter amazement on Jennifer's face and disbelief that this old man of the jungle could quote Shakespeare he stood, his words at an end. With his followers, he left as quietly as he arrived.

Peter and Jennifer were alone.

As Jennifer stared into the glowing embers, Peter helped her to her feet.

"Let's leave this evil place. There's nothing here for me now."

A sudden light movement of air wafted across Jennifer's face and she sensed two people were saying, "Thank you! We love you for loving our son."

Peace flooded her soul.

Engrossed in their thoughts, they returned to the chopper. It quickly rose and turned north towards Penang.

The pilot's voice gave Jennifer a running commentary on what lay below, but her thoughts still focused on that strange old man and what he had foretold of her future.

Obviously, Peter was also thinking of his message as he stared ahead with an aloofness that Jennifer found hard to combat.

Bringing them both back to reality, the pilot's voice, crackling in their earphones, changed to one of urgency. "Hang on - lots of water ahead," he warned.

The sky had turned an eerie green and water poured from the heavens like a waterfall. Rain lashed the chopper and poured in through the open doorways. Tossed back and forth with its engine screaming, the chopper struggled to keep them aloft as a howling wind and drenching rain combined, trying to bring about their downfall.

Terrified, Jennifer clung to Peter who kept her tightly held in his arms.

Saturated, terrified and almost blinded by the light, she watched bolts of jagged lightning hurtle past them on the way to the ground, accompanied by enormous claps of ear-shattering thunder.

In her terror, Jennifer wondered if this was the beginning of what the old man of the jungle had predicted.

As suddenly as they had flown into the storm, they passed though it, and below, sparkling in the sunshine, were the Straits of Malacca with Penang Island on their left.

The chopper swooped down to land on a grassy patch at the edge of Bayan Lepas Airport.

Jennifer giggled as she saw a limousine rushing across the tarmac towards them. Relieved to be back to normal, she had relaxed once more.

"All mod cons. Nothing is too much for my love," Peter grinned. Gently brushing a lock from her face, he bent to kiss her forehead. "Thank you my love. Without you today wouldn't have been possible."

Smiling with relief and marvelling at how quickly her clothes had dried, Jennifer hugged him. They were both back from the memories of his past.

"I think we deserve some luxury, and I knew we'd both be too tired to drive," Peter explained.

"Let's do a little sightseeing on the way. It won't take long." He called out to the driver. "The Snake Temple please, driver."

"No, Peter." Jennifer interrupted. "I've had more than enough excitement for today. Straight to the hotel please, driver."

Jennifer decided it was time to assert herself as she moved close to Peter to cuddle against him and enjoy the warmth of his love in the air-conditioned leather comfort of the BMW.

"Certainly memsahib," was the chuckling answer of the turban headed driver.

"Besides I'm starving. I'm not like you, existing on a bowl of chilies, I need food. Its 3 o'clock and I've had no breakfast, no lunch and no water. I really need reviving. I'm no robot you know."

"If I may be so bold Mem, I'll take you directly to the hotel and order something exceptional for you both. You go straight to your room and relax. I'll take care of everything." The driver had definitely overheard her complaints.

The doorman opened the car door for Jennifer and signalled a room boy to lead the way.

Their suite opened and Jennifer was delighted to see the French doors opening out to the gardens and the sea wall with the mainland in the distance. The overhead fans creaked their welcome.

Sinking into the rubber cushions of the cane lounge, Jennifer sighed her satisfaction at resting in the cool. She leant back, eyes closed, sandals kicked off and content to rest.

"Peter, how much of the words the old man of the jungle told us should we believe? His words burn into my consciousness but I find I am ordering myself to ignore the rubbish. My education tells me that there is no positive proof that soothsaying and fortune telling are anything but myths."

Before Peter could reply a polite knock sounded, and Peter's "Masuk! Come in!" didn't disturb Jennifer but the smell of food forced her eyes open. The room boy placed a steak sandwich with a salad on the coffee table before her, and beside it stood the compulsory ice-cold glass of fresh lime and soda. Neither the meal nor the drink lasted long and Jennifer didn't care if Peter thought she was no lady as she wolfed the food down.

Another knock and another "Masuk" from Peter, and another steak sandwich was placed before her, and this time the fresh lime and soda was even larger and the room boy winked, whispering, "With sugar" as he knew the tartness of the first glass was more than enough.

At last, with hunger and thirst satisfied but too tired to move, she allowed herself to drift into sleep to the sounds of the slow-moving fans as they creaked overhead. Jennifer stirred as Peter lifted her, but she was too tired to open her eyes as he stripped her and put her to bed.

She merely murmured, "What are you doing?"

"I'm just fluffing your pillows!" He wheeled the TV to the bottom of their bed before joining her and, drawing her head to his chest, he remembered her concerned questions. "I can't say whether our friend can tell the future but I've been in the East long enough to understand that at times the arts of the East far outshine the arts of the West. What I can tell you is that, no matter what our destiny, my heart is yours and I will protect you."

Jennifer didn't answer. Lulled by the incessant chatter of the CNN News, Peter found his eyes closing and he joined Jennifer in sleep.

"That couldn't possibly be the time!" The 11am news bulletin had woken Jennifer. She nudged Peter until he groaned and turned over to grab her once more.

"No you don't!" Laughing, she evaded his clutches and raced to the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind her. "A girl has to have some privacy," she shouted as the shower splashed down on her.

Peter stared at the ceiling, still concerned over the Old Man of the jungle's message. The Chief had said this was his destiny. He had no viable option but to graciously accept the Chief's words. Knowing that with Jennifer by his side he could meet the challenges ahead, he was still terrified for her safety. Jennifer was his future.

She appeared from the bathroom and threw a wet towel at him. Peter made a quick leap from the bed towards her and grabbed her around the waist before tossing her onto the bed. Laughing, she screamed that this was her day and she had more plans than spending it studying the bedroom ceiling.

"You shower and dress, and after a quick brunch we'll become tourists." Jennifer was in control.

Peter organized three trishaws. "One for Mem, one for Tuan and one for Mem's purchases," was his explanation to the trishaw drivers.

They rode up Penang Road, meandering from store to store to arrive at a dimly lit shop run by, as his clothing proclaimed, a Pakistani.

Lovingly stroking a Temple Lion and rolling the marble ball in its mouth for luck, Jennifer noted in an off-hand way. "I like this stone lion, I'll take it."

"No Jennifer, it's far too big and too heavy." Peter tried to be the practical one in the partnership.

"Oh, I'm so glad you Australians discipline your women," the shopkeeper remarked with a glitter in his eye and a lascivious lick of his lips.

"Is that so?" Jennifer quickly retorted as she glared at the Pakistani.

"Well," she added disdainfully, throwing Peter's credit card on the counter, "I'll take a matched pair. Don't even think of doing a switch, The Little One, would be most unhappy. Now I'll do some serious shopping."

Before she asked Peter to start haggling, she had added a large, smiling Buddha, an exquisitely carved Ganesha and a delicate carving of Lakshmi to her purchases.

Peter thought his bargaining had ended when Jennifer stepped up to the counter once more.

"Oh, no, that is the price for my husband. I don't have his money. I'm a very poor wife, so..." and she dropped the price to 50% of what had been decided.

The shopkeeper seemed to sway a little. He grasped the counter as if to stop himself from fainting. Jennifer, ignoring his stance, sat down in front of him on the shop chair, staring him into submission. It didn't take long.

Eventually they left, Jennifer gleefully leading Peter by the hand.

"See I'm a quick learner," she smiled back at him.

Jennifer thought she had learned a lot until the night when they walked in the cool of the early evening up Penang Road to the Pasar Malam -- the night market. While she was picking her footsteps down a narrow alley between the puddles of rancid water and woven baskets of goods, she was surprised when a stall keeper accosted her.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 25



His chant, "Air conditioned bra, Mem, air conditioned" brought her to a stop amid roars of laughter from Peter.

"She doesn't wear one," was Peter's quick reply bringing a blush to Jennifer's cheeks.

As if that wasn't enough, the sickening stench of rotting durians drove them back into the street. Peter's laughter was not appreciated nor was his comment, "They say when the durians come down the sarongs go up." 



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 26



There was a crowd to meet them as they stepped into the arrivals' lounge at Melbourne airport. Tearfully, Jennifer's Mum raced to hug her and welcome her home. The three months they had been away had seemed such a long time.

Eric and Andrew were just as happy to see them. Eric hugged his daughter, while Andrew was his normal teasing self.

"Why didn't you bring Jennifer home with you Peter? Who's this new woman? Look, she's laughing and she's so happy. That isn't my sister, Jennifer. Did you exchange her for this new model?"

Peter knew he was home with his family.

"Now, let's put this luggage in the car. We guessed there'd be lots. You must have left many sad shopkeepers in Asia because trucks have been arriving on the hour every hour, day and night, delivering Jennifer's latest purchases."

Grinning wildly, Andrew swung his sister into his arms and squashed her as he kissed her cheek.

"You look wonderful sis. Married life's done wonders for you. I'm thinking of taking the plunge myself."

In teasing disbelief, Jennifer punched Andrew in the arm. "You married? I'll believe it when I see it. I can only feel sympathy for the poor girl. Who is it? She'd have to be out of her mind to marry you."

During the trip home, the teasing and hilarity continued, with many questions about their travels, where they had been and what they had seen.

That night over a traditional dinner of baked lamb with mint sauce, gravy and baked vegetables, Jennifer's statement, "I still call Australia home," made her parents smile, since that simple quotation told them she'd missed her mother's cooking and her family hearth.

At the end of a long evening of food, talk and laughter Andrew stood. "Come on you two, enough talk, I'll drive you home."

The headlights swept in a wide arc up the driveway of the Rocky Springs mansion and Jennifer was surprised when Peter swung her into his arms to carry her up the steps and across the threshold of their home.

"Oh dear, I left the luggage behind. You'll have to make do and sleep naked," was Andrew's cheeky comment as he drove off.

Peter grinned. "Welcome to our home, Mrs. O'Brien, a haven of happiness, a twin for the home where you grew up."

The place actually looked inhabited and there was already human warmth about the rooms, but Jennifer needed to sleep. She allowed Peter to lead her to the bedroom where, oblivious of Peter's presence she undressed and slowly went to soak in the gigantic bath. She made no comment, lazily opening one eye as the slopping of water over the edge told her that Peter had joined her.

He looked at her in silence, a mischievous smile on his face as he took her feet in his hands and began massaging. Jennifer lay back, enjoying every touch. Just as his attentions were becoming sensual, she felt him sliding behind her to rub her neck and shoulders.

She enjoyed his fingers pummelling and pushing at her aching muscles. Eventually, as the water cooled, he stood and helping her out of the bath dried them both with fresh, fluffy towels.

Bending to kiss her Peter lifted her arms around his neck. He slid his hands behind her knees and effortlessly carried her to their bed where he lay beside her, his hands worshipping her nudity.

The realization that this was the first night in their own home heightened their passion, which overcame their tiredness. Before sinking into the softness and darkness of sleep, they made love with renewed energy.

The following morning, Jennifer, her body still on Singapore time, woke late to find Peter carefully studying her. He bent to kiss her then, playfully slapping her rump, commented, "I thought you'd never wake. Come on up your get, you haven't time to play with my body."

She giggled as he corrected himself. "On second thoughts, I have plenty of time to play with you," and his mouth fastened on a nipple.

Jennifer pushed against his chest trying to dampen his passion but to no avail.

Ignoring her efforts, Peter straightened and pulled her onto her feet. "Come on Mrs. O'Brien time to shower and then have breakfast. We must get busy because we've a farm to run."

Smiling mischievously, he led her to their shower recess and turned on the water. As soon as the water had heated, he pushed Jennifer under the steaming spray. He was still adjusting the heat of the water when Jennifer dragged him under the shower with her.

Once Jennifer was thoroughly wet, she turned and snuggled her wet body against Peter's back. She reached around his waist and began soaping him from his shoulders to his knees lingering on his groin.

Peter could only grit his teeth and moan as he tried to turn around to face her but she wouldn't allow him to move.

"What's the matter am I getting to you?" Jennifer asked, her eyes flashing with a naughty gleam.

The only answer was a groan as her soapy hands aroused him even more.

"I'll be a good girl. Stand still and I'll do your back properly this time," she said, reaching for the soap. Giggling, Jennifer began to work her soapy hands across Peter's back, actually doing some washing for a few minutes before she got playful again as she started washing his thighs. What began as washing was suddenly becoming erotic massaging and Peter jumped and turned. Jennifer burst out laughing.

"All right, enough's enough," Peter said. "It's my turn to wash you."

"Aaaw, what's the matter, baby? I'm just trying to make sure you're clean, that's all." Laughing Jennifer wrapped her arms around his neck and began kissing him, rubbing her full wet body against him.

Peter continued kissing her as he lathered his hands with the soap. Then he began fondling her breasts.

Reaching down, she grasped Peter's rampant penis and bent it down between her legs so that it was rubbing against her sex. She broke her kiss, buried her face against his neck and began to whimper.

Remembering how Jennifer liked having her breasts loved, Peter pinched her swollen nipples, digging his thumbnails into the ends. Her moans grew louder and, as she began to shudder, he swirled his tongue tantalizingly over each rigid nipple. Then he suckled her. Suddenly she surrendered to her orgasm. Her arms tightened around his neck as she hung on, almost unable to stand. Finally, her shuddering eased and her moans became gasps.

Holding her for several minutes slowly Peter rocked her as the water poured down on them. Eventually she looked up and Peter noticed that most of the glazed stare had left her eyes so he whispered, "Think we're clean enough for now?"

Jennifer smiled and nodded.

Shutting off the water, he opened the sliding shower screen and stepped out into the steamy room. He reached for one of the extra-large towels, helped her from the shower, then enveloped her body in the soft white cotton.

Pulling a second smaller towel from the rack, he threw it over her head and began vigorously drying her hair as she stood in silence. Her head bowed towards him as he rubbed. When he had dried most of the water from her hair, Peter wrapped a smaller towel around Jennifer's head as a turban then turned to get a towel to dry himself.

"Right, feeling refreshed? I'll meet you in the dining room. Breakfast will be ready." As if worried her naked body would arouse him yet again, Peter was quick to dress and leave

Jennifer believed he'd been busy in the kitchen as he placed two bowls of steaming Pho Ga on the table along with Asian mint, bean sprouts and chilies.

The only objects that suggested she had returned home were the huge pile of hot buttered toast, the pots of jam and the compulsory jar of Vegemite. The steaming mugs of tea reminded Jennifer of that first morning in Malaysia at the Makan Stall.

While they were eating, the phone rang.

"I sent one of my cooks and an amah over to help you settle in." Elizabeth seemed anxious to tell Jennifer the news. 

Hearing Jennifer's reaction she explained, "The amah is a house girl to clean and do the washing -- general household duties. The cook this week is Vietnamese. Blake Pastoral supplies all cooks and amahs and they are on the company payroll. The servants have stocked the pantry and all your clothes are in place. Enjoy your breakfast. It's wonderful to have you back."

Jennifer could only stare at the silent phone. Turning to Peter and shaking her head in bewilderment, she expressed her surprise. "You really are a pest. I thought you'd cooked this breakfast and I was about to allocate all kitchen duties to you. Now I find the company has supplied cooks and amahs."

When breakfast was finished, Peter, with his arm around her waist, strolled down the long corridor.

"Let's look at our offices." He opened a door and followed her into the room. "Hey, wait a minute. This is a terrific office, I think I'll swap."

The leather chairs and lounge, the bookshelves with their law books and the plush comfort shrieked of being a successful law practice.

One wall was wooden panelling which he slid back commenting, "I wonder if the computers have been installed? When we returned to Singapore just before returning home and you were out shopping with Lu-Lu and Lee-Lee, trying to purchase all of Singapore, I called home and Eric was proud to tell me of the advances and changes made here by the company. When he had finished both your Mum and Andrew took over. That's why I was not surprised at our Vietnamese breakfast."

Jennifer was staring at a bank of computers. She gasped as Peter flicked one screen to life and she was looking into Peter's office. She giggled as Peter danced off like a schoolboy to his office only to appear in her monitor.

"Hello sweetheart - see I'm not far away." He spoke to the screen before reappearing in her office. "Andrew hired a System's Engineer who has networked the two properties. Even the workshops are on line."

Taking her hand, he led her back into the corridor. "Come to my office and let's explore that."

A similar bank of computers occupied one wall of Peter's office. Drafting tables, stools and shelves of computer aided drafting programs filled the room. This was an engineer's dream office.

Jennifer looked up at him and gasped, seeing another facet of this man, a side she hadn't suspected existed.

Proudly he opened the door in the far wall.

She noticed on the left a bathroom door, so the sign 'Tandas' said, and a flight of steps leading down to a cool quiet cellar.

Peter led the way down the steps. Against the far wall was his family altar and above it the picture of Peter's parents. There was a faint suggestion of incense in the air as three faint wisps of white smoke climbed from three joss sticks.

The bookshelves against one wall were full of engineering manuals. The plaque including the two Ghurkha knives hung on another wall. An extensive sound system filled the air with the sounds of Love Changes Everything. The only furnishings were a leather-covered suite of large comfortable chairs and a luxurious sofa. There was no sign of air conditioning but Jennifer knew this room would be both cool in summer and warm in winter.

Jennifer took him back to her office where she pushed him down on the lounge as she kicked off her shoes.

She lay her head in his lap. However before she could speak, the phone rang and she looked expectantly at Peter. "Your phone -- you answer!" was Peter's comment.

"Jennifer speaking, oh it's you Mum. Yes... Oh... Okay... It's that important... Lunch... but we've just had breakfast..." 

She paused. "Andrew get off the phone, I'm talking to Mum..." She sounded exasperated. "Andrew, I'm talking with Mum. Stop interrupting."

The call ended and she was still annoyed when she informed Peter, "We are due at Mum's in half an hour. We are to lunch, and then attend a board meeting. The company solicitor and accountant will be there. You and I don't have to give a report but there'll be a progress report from everyone else.

"That brother of mine's a pest, he wanted to tease me. He said our luggage was on it way over so we wouldn't have to go nude. Really, he's a pest."

Walking into the dining room at Deep Springs, they were not surprised to see Jack, the company solicitor, and Brian, the company accountant stand and welcome them back home. Conversation at the table centerd on their trip to Malaysia and Singapore.

The meal was a leisurely affair. Relaxed and well fed, they made their way upstairs to the rear of the house.

Expectantly the party halted at a door with a brass sign, Blake Pastoral Company Boardroom.

Jennifer stood, perplexed, until she slowly realized they expected her to enter the room first.

"My God, what's going on?" She was standing at the threshold of a new addition to her old home -- a Boardroom.

Around the highly polished teak table were large, leather upholstered, comfortable chairs and in front of each chair was a name plate showing positions - Chairperson, Secretary, Board Member, Company Accountant, Company Solicitor.

Andrew sat Jennifer at the Chairperson's seat and Eric sat Elizabeth in the Secretary's position. The men sat in the Board Member's seats and waited. The Jack and Brian sat in their allocated seats and everyone waited for Jennifer who remained silent.

Bubbling with enthusiasm, Elizabeth requested, "This is now the company's official boardroom so Jennifer please open the meeting."

Jennifer declared the meeting open and asked her mother to read the minutes from the previous meeting, which were accepted.

The solicitor stood. "I have to report that Peter's ideas for seeking government grants and assistance from universities have proved fruitful.

"The Immigration Department has granted visas for the people we sought and is keeping a close watch on the wages and conditions being offered.

"Letters of appreciation have been sent to your families in KL and Singapore, Peter, for their kind donation of the furniture and furnishings for this Boardroom."

Turning to Peter he added, "I'm afraid your idea, Peter, about bottled water is not viable but Brian will explain."

Brian looked extremely pleased as he rose to deliver his report. "Low interest loans were successfully negotiated with the Commonwealth Government and the money used to bring six 1.3 megawatt wind turbines on line. These towers are on the high ridge above the tree line at the State Pine Forest end of the properties.

"Two universities, Melbourne and the University of Technology Sydney have combined to install a satellite Internet Provider System free -- with the provisor that no student will be charged for its use. It is to provide distance education facilities E-University is the 'in' word.

"Research departments of those universities are also co-operating to a huge extent on our ideas for green, renewable, energy sources.

"The idea that the company investigates development of water conservation, water recycling and water harvesting has really caused tremendous interest. The Commonwealth Government with the two universities have combined to supply government money and university academic expertise for venture.

"Despite the scope of the new directions for Blake Pastoral, these new ideas have put no financial strain on the company. Indeed, financially the company is stronger than ever."

"The production of bottled water is not feasible as the spring water is unsuitable for such a venture. That has been the only negative outcome I have to report."

Eric took over.

"We've increased our stud bulls with three Murray Greys. We've kept within the budget allowed. The purchase of twelve stud merino rams will eventually boost the value of our wool.

"As well, the company has built pig pens in the area at the Forestry Commission end of Rocky Springs for the processing of the wild pigs. European demands will lead to a lucrative market.

"The employment of stockmen, labourers and farmhands has been difficult but the Department of Immigration and Peter's Ghurkha friends with their English Passports have been a boon to us.

"We constructed solar panels at the same site as the wind turbines using land that is totally unsuitable for grazing or crops. In conjunction with both the University of Technology Sydney and the Melbourne University, we are presently investigating the construction of a solar power station at the same location.

"I'm very pleased with our progress which has been amazing and I believe we will have greater success in the next quarter." Smiling broadly Eric sat.

"Andrew, present your report please." Jennifer, being officious, was surprised at the speed their plans had been implemented and sat back waiting for more revelations.

Andrew switched on the projector and stood. On the back wall a map of the two properties lit up and, as he spoke, he pointed out the locations on the map.

"We're presently enlarging the shearing sheds on Deep Springs because of the projected increase in our flock. The company is modernising and converting the shearing shed and shearers' quarters on Rocky Springs into a conference center and motel with a view to making it a subsidiary university campus. The two universities are behind this venture and have had a much-needed input into layout, size and design.

"We've purchased a sixty passenger tourist coach for the transport of students and guests.

"Accommodation for all our workers and the necessary construction changes for their support are complete. We used pre-built steel frames and all houses are fully equipped with satellite TV using Blake ISP as the provider. I must add that we also have kept within budget with our construction.

"The universities have assisted by installing satellite internet access for the Old Shearing Shed Motel ready for lectures.

"The Government and the universities have made the project much easier. Without their co-operation and financial support I doubt if we'd be so close to finalising the first stage of our plans."

Jennifer leaned back in her seat musing over the way things seemed to have fallen into place.

Elizabeth was the last person to give a report. Standing and smiling broadly, she showed her delight in what she had to report.

"The harvesting of water has commenced and intensive vegetable farming has started along the arable banks of the creek."

Laughing she turned to her daughter. "See? We didn't forget your comment. 'You're all mad! We'll be out of water in a week. This place - this motel - will soak up water and no one will want to wash in a shaving mug'. In addition, we are constantly aiming to ensure a permanent water supply.

"Workers have caused a problem as we were unable to get what we needed until we cast our net wider. The result of looking further afield is that we have an enlarged family with the assistance and co-operation of the Immigration Department. We now have a large number of new immigrants and their wives working for us. Our workers include thirty-six Ghurkha families, fifteen Thai families, sixteen Tamil and twenty Cantonese families. Actually we have a multicultural township."

Peter laughed.

"All are legal immigrants. All are earning fair Australian wages. The company employs all the men and women. Both properties have cooks and servants to allow you, Jennifer, freedom to pursue your studies and me time to further develop my musical and teaching skills."

"The motel has staff and we are able to offer Australian, Chinese, Thai and Vietnamese Cuisine and a full interpreter service in Asian Languages. My head whirls when I try to keep up with our workers and their abilities.

"I've been busy teaching the English language and Australian housekeeping to our newcomers. We've opened a pre-school and I've been active, teaching the mothers how to run that as a business. Additional teachers come from town to help. I've kept within budget and am making a small profit, although making a profit is not my aim."




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 26



Eric waited until Elizabeth resumed her seat. "Jennifer and Peter it's time to meet some of Blake's new staff," and he called, "Come in." Suddenly the room filled with smiling faces.

"Elizabeth, you're Company Secretary and know more of our workers than Jennifer so please welcome everyone."

Elizabeth introduced Jennifer and Peter, the solicitor and the accountant to everyone in the various languages. The Board members were astounded at Elizabeth's fluency and they could only grin, knowing that the teaching was going both ways.

With the introductions over everyone clapped and cheered Elizabeth for her successful efforts in breaking down the language barriers.

Jennifer recognized the Regimental Sergeant Major from her wedding as he stepped forward to speak for the workers.

"Madam Chair, Officers of the Board and Board Members. Everyone nominated me as spokesperson to thank you all for your generosity and humanity in bringing our families and us to Australia. Your kindness will never be forgotten, and because you are helping us make a successful Australian life for ourselves and for our children, you can rest assured that we pledge our lives to make this company a safe, secure and resounding success."

"Now, before you go on a tour of the properties, may I request that you join us in a little festivity?"

Without pausing for a reply, he ushered everyone to the grand dining room where the table was groaning with sweetmeats, savories and cakes. No one stood back - not the servants, not the stockmen nor the board members.

The food was just too delicious to ignore. When Peter roared "dua tea au" gales of laughter met his outburst and a servant handed him a glass of ice-cold fruit juice.

Later in her bike gear and following her parents, Jennifer leant across from her bike.

"Will I ever get ahead of you? I don't know how I will ever be surprised again about the way you have become part of my family? I love you so much. How can I show you how much I appreciate what you've done for Blake Pastoral?" Seeing the look in Peter's eyes and the grin on his face, she knew she had said the 'wrong' thing. Her husband was incorrigible.

"Can't you think of anything else?" she called behind her as she accelerated to join her mother at the front.

Sliding her bike to a halt at the new cow bails, she was astounded when her mother explained the production figures.

"Yes, we now have our own milkers for milk, cream and butter. We're aiming to become self-supporting and to sell any surplus in town to discerning buyers. You should've seen our first market at the local school while you were away. The Ghurkha and Tamil women in their saris caused a stir and the local school earned a lot in commission.

"The vegetable gardens have benefited from all the sheep, cattle and horse manure," she laughed. "We waste nothing."

With tears in her eyes, she turned to her daughter and smiled. "Jennifer, I've never been so happy in my life. In our little world, the changes have established a thriving community. We are genuinely helping impoverished families from Asia.

"I've done a lot of teaching and there's a lot more to do, but I believe we've all learned a lot. It's wonderful having so many happy smiling faces working safely here.

"No one dares come onto the property to take an odd sheep or two anymore. Our stockmen looked after a couple of townies trying to imitate the swagman in Waltzing Matilda and no one has been back to try their luck."

Jennifer was surprised at her mother's heartfelt enthusiasm and the new sparkle in her eyes. It was as though Blake Pastoral had been lying dormant for a long time and had suddenly awakened.

A motor cycle gang roared over the hill.

Jennifer couldn't air her thoughts through the approaching noise. What had her mum and dad done? Surely, could there be anything more to explain?

She knew they had all plotted and planned this together before the honeymoon, but things had happened so swiftly.

Yet her mum looked so vitally alive and her dad had a new spring in his step. Even Andrew had forgotten to tease her. She liked what was happening and she liked their plans for the future.

Ten motor bikes halted in front of her mother and the riders dismounted and removed their helmets. All grins, the Ghurkha stockmen waited to escort the party.

"The buggers can't ride horses yet they sure can round up cattle on those bikes," was Andrew's wry comment and he didn't bother to remove his helmet.

"Got to teach'em how to crack whips but they sure have learned how to make the cattle dogs work. The dogs sit behind them and snarl at the cattle, and if that's not enough, they launch themselves like projectiles and swing on the beasts' ears. The cattle have learned how to behave - just like school kids marching into school."

"Must get one of them to train a dog I can sool onto Sis when she annoys me. However, I suppose it would be quicker to tell Peter to calm her down. Bet he knows how." He threw his head back and roared his merriment to the heavens.

His laughter quickly stopped when Jennifer grabbed his helmet and shook his head mercilessly until his teeth rattled.

"Stop teasing me or I'll set Peter on you and that'd be worse than all the dogs. He's my protector, so if you tease me again, start running." The smile in her eyes belied the strict tone of her voice.

To Jennifer's surprise ten horses trotted up the hill with miniature riders urging them forward.

Laughing at her daughter's perplexed look, Elizabeth giggled, "I said I had been doing some teaching but I didn't tell you that Andrew has been busy as well. We have been busy teaching all the children to ride. They love helping round up cattle and they are looking after the horses so well. I believe they have a hidden knack of working with animals."

The old shearing shed had workers clambering all over it. They were extending the building and were adding a third floor.

"The third floor is for conference rooms," was Andrew's explanation. "I have been asked to lecture at some of the conferences. Don't tell anyone. They'll never believe you. Tiny and Blue are lecturers as well!"

Sauntering down the hill were two men - the same age as Andrew but so different. One, a walking mountain, could only be Tiny, and the other, Blue, had the reddest mop of hair possible.

"Hi, Jennifer! You look as though married life agrees with you. Peter, you look worn-out, what's this girl done to you?" The twinkle in Blue's eyes said more than his words.

Tiny pounced and ignoring Jennifer's shriek grabbed her. He threw her high into the air before catching her and putting her back on her feet.

"Despite being married you're still our Jennifer who used to play mud pies with us down by the creek and once went skinny dipping with all of us. I'm sure you thought you were a boy until that day. Strange you never went skinny dipping again, even if you were only five.

Blue took over and his deep voice was passionate as he explained how water recycling was in place, water harvesting and water management being a top priority. He even explained how the workers had developed drip irrigation on one of the vegetable plots with the water loss negligible. These plots were along the creek towards the scrubby ends of both properties.

Later, the cavalcade or motor bikes and horses crested the last hill where both properties merged with the Forestry Commission Pine Plantation.

Jennifer and Peter received the last surprise of the day. Below them lay a small, thriving village of fairytale houses, each in their own well-tended plot of ground with streets, streetlights, a small general store, a building - Fire Brigade was its sign - and a small four-man helicopter. There was a small community hall and a second official-looking building proudly proclaimed Blake Pastoral Hospital.

"It's staffed by a surgeon from the Royal College of Surgeons, Edinburgh, and his wife, the nurse, is an obstetrics specialist," Andrew explained. "It even has a modern operating theatre and we have four other nurses we can call on. All are ex-British army Ghurkhas, fully trained."

Women in saris and others in pyjama-like samfoos were on the verandahs surrounded by little children who began running towards the bikes and the horses to get a ride. Happy smiling faces swamped them, and hands reached out to tug them into various homes welcoming the visitors.

Hours later they returned to the Board Room, where they sipped at the Boh Tea Peter had demanded he bring home from Malaysia.

"There's nothing more to display, Jennifer." Her father beamed. "We'll have to work very hard to bring our plans to fruition. Our Ghurkha friends will be stockmen here and will boost the guards in Sydney, as some of the Security Guards in Sydney have been less than reliable. Oh, did you like the tourist coach?"

Jennifer could see the pride and the new light in her father's eyes as he shed years in his enthusiasm for the future of Blake Pastoral.

"The ideas of this man of yours has kicked us all into the future, and what a bright happy future that'll be."

The meeting resumed.

"Now, Madam Chair, to finalize this informal meeting, I propose that the Board holds a house-warming ball here in the ballroom in three months. By that time, our Sydney friends will be able to join us, as will friends from Malaysia and Singapore. You and Peter are the hosts, but all expenses will be born by Blake Pastoral, as this party will be strengthening our ties with all our guests.

"At the bottom of the pile of papers in front of you is the suggested guest list, the arrangements and the menu - everything is set out."

Then, forsaking his executive's attitude and looking towards Andrew, he concluded the proceedings. "I believe," he said seriously, "There may be some announcements made at the ball."

It took Jennifer no time to slip back to her studies and into her work as the head of the legal department of the insurance company. 

However her legal mind demanded to know when all the plans had been set in motion, and she was amazed at the new direction for the company.

In fact, she wanted to know everything and did not rest until she found that Eric, Andrew and Elizabeth had been working full time while she and Peter had been overseas. The three of them had worked closely with both accountant and solicitor as they tried to bring some sort of order to their ideas.

It took much longer to adjust to having servants, amahs and cooks in the house, even though they were rather like ghosts - almost invisible.

She missed Peter when he was out in the paddocks with Andrew and Eric, but she missed him more when he flew to Sydney to check on things at the workshop and to meet with Ted. However, his return meant hours of passionate loving and at least one sleepless night spent in pleasuring each other, so she didn't complain too much about his absence.

When she flew to Sydney, she was always happy to have Peter's company, and was delighted to slip behind the wheel of her Mini once more. Their quayside penthouse became their haven with many nights spent wrapped in each other's embrace.

Jennifer marveled that their sex life was becoming more and more intense. That she needed him was a fact, and that he worshipped her was without question.

Nights at the opera, at concerts or just playing chess were treasured events, and she always looked forward to the end of the day when they were alone and could relax with each other.

During one of their quiet evenings together, a phone call came through from a very excited Bill to say that Susie had gone into labour and that he was calling from the hospital. Jennifer was full of questions none of which Bill was able to answer.

Bill cut her off mid sentence saying that a nurse had called him back into the delivery suite, as the moment was very near.

"We'll ring you as soon as the baby arrives."

Peter had difficulty restraining Jennifer from rushing to be with Susie.

"This is their moment, so just be patient," Peter reassured her as he eased her onto the lounge close to the phone, trying to make her relax.

Two hours later the call came from Susie. Although she sounded exhausted, she was shouting with joy.

"It's a boy! Jennifer, I can't wait to introduce James William to you and Peter."

It was impossible for Peter to contain Jennifer's enthusiasm any further. Her description of the baby was incoherent. It wasn't until both of them were standing at the nursery window that they saw just how gorgeous this little bundle was, with his shock of dark hair. He was vigorously squirming as if trying to escape from the confines of the bunny rug enclosing him.

Day after day, Jennifer visited Susie and James until it was time for her and Peter to make a trip back to their home on the property.

Susie and Bill were delighted when Jennifer and Peter accepted the honor of being James' Godparents. The Christening was to be a family-only celebration in six weeks.

Back at Rocky Springs, the week of the housewarming party eventually arrived and they had returned to their country home to find that the family had been busy.

Jennifer was delighted to welcome Peter's four sisters and their husbands. No motel for them. They stayed at Rocky Springs.

Their Sydney friends arrived. Ted and Bob shared one room while Karen and Ruth shared another at Deep Springs.

The Commander, Susie and baby James stayed with Peter and Jennifer.

Baby James was lucky that the young daughters of the RSM became his constant babysitters. Susie complained that often they would not allow her back in the room except to feed him. Bill's laughing comment, "Half his luck to have all these pretty girls tending to his every need," brought a loving slap from Susie.

Elizabeth had a full house, Jennifer had a full house and the Shearing Shed Motel was full.

The Tourist Coach had been meeting planes for days and cars had been dashing hither and thither. Blue, Tiny, Andrew, Peter and Eric had been either collecting guests or conducting tours around the two properties under the watchful eyes of the security.

Two tables were set in the dining room and the buffet was ready as the first guests arrived for the party. People sat on the verandahs with their meal and their Thai and Tamil guests were impressed with the heat of the food. The Australian guests seemed more inclined to eat the baked lamb and the steak while the Chinese dipped into everything.

Peter offered to share his chilies with everyone who politely declined.

Amongst the happy crowd, the servants threaded their way to tend to everyone's needs and seemed to know instinctively what the guests desired. In the background, the RSM kept a wary eye on proceedings.

Slowly the guests began to drift away as they left to change their clothes for the ball.

Peter's Indian sisters followed Elizabeth and Jennifer to a bedroom where they helped them don their saris. Only when bangles covered their arms and tinkling ankle bracelets enclosed their ankles, their foreheads showed the red bindi and they slung the ends of their saris over their right shoulders were they considered dressed.

All four of them, resplendent in their gold brocaded saris of various hues, made their way to the ballroom.

Peter's eyes glowed in appreciation as he stood at the door welcoming their guests, and Jennifer could feel the heat of his love as she clung to his arm. He didn't need to say a word. She could sense that he knew how beautiful she was to his eyes.

It was only when Marissa, on the arm of Tiny, and Nicolette, on the arm of her brother, arrived that she found herself wondering... When a third dainty girl arrived on the arm of Blue, Peter mentioned she was also a ballerina from Sydney. Jennifer became suspicious, remembering her brother's statement that he was considering taking the plunge.

It was towards midnight and everyone held a glass of champagne. Ted stepped into the limelight demanding silence and attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Jennifer and Peter! Thank you for your attendance and for making this housewarming a happy occasion but..." The guests held their breath wondering what was to come.

Ted walked a few slow paces towards the center of the floor and turned slowly to gaze around the room.

Peter wondered why Ted hadn't joined a dramatic society, such was his flair for handling the crowd.

"But..." again he paused until a voice rang out.

"Get on with it!"

Ted gave Andrew a wry look.

"I have great pleasure," he continued, "In announcing the engagements of Nicolette and Andrew, Marissa and Tiny, Margarita and Blue."

Pandemonium broke out as Jennifer flew across the room into her brother's arms, hugging both him and Nicolette. Cheering and clapping interspersed with "For they are jolly good fellows" drowned all other noises.

The dancing continued until the early hours of the morning and the kookaburras had begun their laughing welcome to the new day before the last of the revellers found their beds.

Days of showing their guests around the property followed. The Board Members outlined their plans that had now been in place long enough to start showing signs of coming to fruition.

Dinners in Deep Springs and dinners at Rocky Springs helped make time fly.

Finally, the guests left.

They were alone and the day-to-day routine became settled. Parties of students stayed at the Shearing Shed Motel and Jennifer had learned the names of the workers, their wives and their children.

Elizabeth took pride in noting all birthdays, and there was always something special from the company on special days.

Christmas Eve was busier than ever before. The Christmas Service at the church was even more wonderful than ever as Jennifer walked up the aisle on Peter's arm.

Christmas Day was just as joyous, but the family gathered around the Christmas Tree included two new men, Blue and Tiny, their fiancées, and of course, Nicolette. Jennifer marveled at how her mother managed to control her extended brood, especially after driving Santa around the workers' homes with his bag full of presents for the children and their parents.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 27



'Friends of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra request the pleasure of Mr. & Mrs. P. O'Brien.' The invitation had arrived weeks earlier and reluctantly Peter had accepted.

Immediately after Christmas, they flew to Sydney and Jennifer went shopping for an evening gown by herself. She adamantly refused to tell Peter what she had purchased or to model it for him.

He tried to entice her to reveal her secret as he stood with her on the balcony with his hands slowly massaging her neck and shoulders, pleading that he really needed to know.

****** THAT FATEFUL SUNDAY NIGHT

Peter had at last mastered the art of dressing in his white tie and tails as he waited for Jennifer. He stared out over the Opera House sails, musing that in his whole life he had never before dressed himself in such formal wear. Even for the night he had danced with Jennifer on the stage at Die Fledermaus a tailor had dressed him, fussing over him making certain Peter was a walking advertisement for his business. Then a polite cough interrupted his thoughts.

"Well?"

As he spun to look, Peter's quick reaction was, "Wow! Turn around."

Jennifer could feel his eyes roaming over her as she turned and displayed her new gown. Peter's breathing became more and more ragged as she preened herself like some human female version of a peacock.

The subdued dark gold gown with its triangular handkerchief-shaped, plain bodice with absolutely no back hung from a diamond-studded dog collar to drape down the sides of her breasts clearly revealing she was wearing no bra. The skirt began low at her hips, flowing from a soft gathering of fabric to flare at her ankles, joining the bodice at the front and leaving her back bare of any straps.

Open- toed gold sandals with diamante straps and stiletto heels accentuated her dainty feet and her red painted toenails.

"I sure hope the Hollywood tape is strong enough to hold everything in place," Peter commented with frivolous amusement, "or should I follow you around all night with my hands holding everything in place. That would be my pleasure. Can I practise now?"

Jennifer responded with a giggle as she whirled about to make her way to the lift. She turned to speak to her husband and was surprised to notice that Peter was still standing there, staring at her.

He was having second thoughts of his wife flaunting her charms in public. "Jennifer, don't you consider you are showing too much flesh and the men might genuinely believe you are hunting or available?"

Obviously, he was worried and jealously wanted to protect his wife.

Jennifer walked to her husband and lifted his hands to her lips. She kissed each hand.

"Peter I'm yours and I was once called 'The Ice Maiden'. Well any man who tried anything funny would find this iceberg would sink his Titanic."

"I'm yours and yours alone and I'm dressed like this for you only."

Smiling she stood on her tiptoes to reach up and kiss his cheek. "Your worry makes me feel proud of you as my loving loyal mate. Come my love, enjoy tonight and don't be jealous, I'm yours forever."

The chauffeur-driven limousine halted at the entrance gate of the Hunter's Hill Mansion.

Two burly guards with six guard dogs investigated them and their invitation, carefully shining their torches over them.

Jennifer shivered.

The guards paused in their inspection of her and this inspection was much more intense than their inspection of Peter. They were stripping her naked under their gaze.

Clinging to Peter's hand, she wished she had been conservative in her dressing. However, it was far too late for second thoughts as they stepped into the mansion.

Peter held Jennifer close to him, fending off the lecherous looks of other men, but as the night of partying progressed, the wife of the host dragged him away.

Jennifer watched a tall, willowy, incredibly beautiful Asian take Peter's arm.

She had no time for her jealousy to build as a handsome young man - addressed by one of the guards as Pretty Boy - immediately handed her a glass of punch and demanded she dance with him.

Pretty Boy became her constant companion never leaving her side, dancing with her and keeping her glass well filled.

Many drinks later, Jennifer was no longer wondering where Peter had gone. She offered no resistance to this handsome man, Pretty Boy, as he led her to the quiet surrounds of the swimming pool where they continued dancing. Seeming to be blissfully unaware that he was pulling her obscenely close to his body, she just moved to the music.

Jennifer didn't object when he made her wrap her arms around his neck while his hands wandered across her bare back and dived below the waistband of her dress.

Unaware of Pretty Boy's interest in Jennifer, Peter followed the hostess into the far reaches of the mansion where he suddenly realized that not all was what it had seemed. He stared at the Thai woman and suddenly his mind slipped back to his lessons in the brothel at Bukit Mertajam and he knew.

Her eyes confirmed his suspicion. This was no true woman but a Thai katoey, a ladyboy.

The Asian woman tried leading him into a bedroom.

Screaming, "No!" in perfect Thai, Peter threw her to the floor. He was not interested and the Thai katoey looked strangely apprehensive as she struggled to rise.

Suddenly fearful that he had left Jennifer alone, Peter turned away. He became more and more perturbed as he thoroughly searched room after room to no avail. Distraught, his heart pounding, he feared what had happened when he left Jennifer alone.

Finally, he stepped outside into the pool area in his frenzied hunt.

Incredulous, he watched two figures dancing, his wife wrapped around Pretty Boy as if he were her beloved and Pretty Boy's hands sliding down inside her dress to cup her bare buttocks.

Peter, catlike, stalked his prey certain that his approach was silent, and Pretty Boy remained unaware of his presence. 

His hands flashed before Pretty Boy's eyes to clutch him by the throat.

Gasping for air, Pretty Boy found himself flying high through the air to splash fully clothed into the deepest section of the pool. When he struggled back to the side Peter's hand reached out to yank at his hair. No matter how hard he struggled, down he went until he believed that he was about to drown. Three times, he went down before Peter allowed him to breathe.

Staring into the hate-filled eyes of Peter, he heard the warning, "Touch my wife again and you're a dead man. Anyone who touches Jennifer is a dead man walking."

Peter gave a demonical laugh striking a chord of fear in Pretty Boy as he added viciously, "He won't be walking long."

Only then, did Peter rise from his knees and turn to Jennifer who was just swaying to the music, staring into space, blissfully unaware of the commotion around her.

Laughing, Peter folded himself into her arms. "Sweetheart, you've had too much to drink." Looking into her eyes, he recognized that drugs not alcohol affected her. He led her away, knowing it was useless to explain anything to her while she was in this state

"Now it's my turn to look after the drunk in the family," he said, with a touch of wry amusement in his voice.

As they walked to their waiting limousine, Peter could feel tension, hatred and lust enveloping them within a thick wall of emotion. He had interrupted something evil and he didn't know what it was.

Mysteriously, guards and their dogs appeared to escort them, but the fierce glare in his eyes and his military stature made them fall back. They sensed he wasn't the least intimidated by their attitude and presence, even though they were heavily armed.

In the car, Peter shuddered. A clear image of the old man of the jungle seemed to materialise in his mind, repeating, "The gods demand a payment and a harsh reckoning it will be!"

Shaking his head to clear his mind and yet feeling perturbed and apprehensive, he held Jennifer in the tight protection of his arms with his face in her hair.

Silently he prayed that their god would give them the emotional resolution necessary for the payment that he sensed was about to be demanded.

Safely back home, he remembered his drunken binge before they had married. Carefully, Peter undressed Jennifer and put her to bed, disregarding his body's needs to love her. Instead, he cuddled her and realized that she was asleep long before her head hit the pillow.

He wasn't prepared to tell her that 'Pretty Boy' had drugged her.

****** THAT FATEFUL MONDAY

Work called and Jennifer watched Peter rise.

"My head is splitting!" she exclaimed. "Sweetheart, I believe I made a complete ass of myself, as I can't remember anything about last night.

"Yet I'm positive I had only one fruit punch. Everything's a complete blank after that first drink. That handsome young man demanded that I dance with him after you had gone off with that beautiful woman."

"That was no woman. That was a Thai ladyboy." Peter's lips curled in extreme distaste.

"But at least we're both safe. Now you'd better get to work, as you're due in court at 11am. Are you okay, because I really have to rush?"

When Peter arrived ready to open the workshop, he considered it strange that one of the security guards was standing at the shutters, but perhaps he was suspicious after the happenings of the previous night. He was even more mistrustful when he saw a black Mercedes parked up the road.

"Open." Peter sounded happy. The guard seemed to hesitate until Peter added, "I've left my keys behind." He backed his car away from the driveway.

What happened next was unbelievable.

A sudden blast reverberated in Peter's ears as a fireball belched from the workshop through the half-opened shutters. A scream echoed from the throat of the guard. The crash of his body through the shop front across the road cut short his shriek.

The force of the eruption hurled Peter's car into the air and onto its side. Bleeding, Peter lay stunned covered in glass from the shattered windscreen and windows.

The sudden roar of flames broke the silence following the blast. Hammered into Peter's brain was the screech of tires, as the black Mercedes fled.

Peter couldn't believe the hell that had broken out around him

Then he could hear the harsh scream of sirens - more and more sirens as he struggled free of his car. On his feet but dazed, he charged toward the main office door that opened from the street.

Breaking into the building, he played the office fire extinguisher over the seat of the fire until fire officers shouldered him away.

Ambulances joined the melee and the paramedics would not let Peter do a thing until they had checked him all over and had attended to his cuts, staunching the bleeding.

Police, firemen and reporters all fought to interview Peter who watched as more paramedics recovered the remains of the guard from the shop front opposite.

It wasn't until Joe and the workers arrived minutes later and commenced to clean up that Peter's thoughts turned to Jennifer.

He went next door to Bill's office to call Jennifer's Personal Assistant.

"There's been an explosion at the workshop, please tell Jennifer I'm safe."

Jennifer's P. A. took the message. "I will when I see her, Peter, but I'm afraid she didn't come into the office and didn't make her scheduled court appearance," was the brief reply. "I've tried ringing her but no answer. Is she okay? Are you okay?"

Peter sagged, and again those comments of the wise man of the East cut through his consciousness. 'The gods demand a payment and a harsh payment it will be.'

"Joe," Peter sounded distant, "Jennifer's missing and I'm very worried and frightened. Put someone in charge and drive with me. I need you to keep me sane."

The police blocked their exit.

"Forensic have discovered that this was no accidental explosion. Someone flagrantly tampered with the shutters so that whoever unlocked and began to open up would die. Have you any enemies Mr. O'Brien? Have there been an extortion demands."

Eventually, their enquiries satisfied, the police officers left. With Joe driving, Peter set off in search of Jennifer. They headed for the apartment, as that was the last place Peter had seen his wife.

On the bed at their apartment, Peter found Jennifer's beautiful dark gold dress displayed on the bed. Lying on top of the gown was a note.

"Peter my love. You looked after me when I was drunk. Now we're even. I love you more and more each day. Tonight, just for you, I will dress in these clothes that I wore last night and you can...

"I can't continue as I'm blushing as I write. Be home early. I want a long, long night with my husband, my lover, my heart."

Peter reddened as he felt Joe's arm across his shoulders.

"That wife of yours sure does love you boss," Joe said. Obviously he'd also read the note.

Leaving the apartment, they followed the route Jennifer would have taken to work until suddenly Peter shouted, "Stop! Up that alley."

A quick U-turn and a right turn took them into the alley where they pulled up behind Jennifer's car. It was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. Peter glanced around trying to make some sense of the conundrum.

A street person rose from the gutter across the alley and slowly approached them. Peering at them through bleary, blood-shot eyes and breathing alcoholic fumes he croaked, "I was ordered to give you these two messages. 'Next time it's you. The tart will die if you try to find her.'" He shuffled off.

Growling, Joe steadied Peter. "They definitely want a bloody fight, and now the bastards have got one. This is one they won't win." Then he broke into a long string of Italian curses.

He helped Peter walk across the road to the Post Office where Peter made the first of two overseas phone calls in languages that Joe couldn't recognize.

His third call didn't surprise Joe at all. "Elizabeth, ask Andrew to go to a public phone in Melbourne and ring..." and he gave the phone number of the BMW Dealer. "Tell him to ask for Bill if it's in business hours. If out of hours, I'll be there."

He listened to Elizabeth for a minute.

"Yes, big things are developing here so I need Andrew. Yes, I'm okay - there's been an explosion at the workshop but I'm safe. Yes, Jennifer is well. I must rush, as the Police are thoroughly investigating the incident. Tell Andrew to ring."

He paused while Elizabeth repeated the phone number. "It's most important," he confirmed. "We'll be down next weekend. I must rush - bye!"

With a sinking feeling and showing extreme distress, Peter drove the Mini home.

Joe took him to the workshop where the firemen and the staff were still cleaning up.

In spite of his fury, Peter said nothing to anyone but made his way straight to Bill's office next door where he locked the door once Joe and Susie joined them.

"I believe Jennifer's been kidnapped and I'm waiting for a ransom demand." Peter was frank to the point of being brutal.

Ignoring their questions he continued, explaining how he feared that there could be worse in store as he outlined what Dingo had said about Jennifer, and the happenings of the previous night. He sagged into a seat and wept as he cursed himself for his own stupidity.

"Why didn't I tell her to be on guard? Why didn't I tell her of my suspicions? Why didn't ..."

Susie's rush to cradle her friend in her arms stopped his self-recriminations. Holding him at arm's length, she softly told him to stop his nonsense and to pull himself together. "You aren't alone. We're in this together."

Peter hugged her. "All right, you say you're in this fight with me. Susie your priority is your baby, and I guarantee that my guards will be constantly with you to keep the two of you safe from these imbeciles, whoever they are.

"However, I must warn you it will be a fierce fight to the death. In Ancient Sparta, the women sent their menfolk off to battle with the words, 'Return with your shield or upon it.' A Spartan mother wished her son to return from war either victorious, carrying his shield, or being carried upon it after falling in battle.

"My pledge to you for this battle is that I will return carrying my shield.

"Obviously, I can't add much more except to say that Andrew will be ringing here tonight.

"Bill, can you get six scramblers so phone calls can't be intercepted?

"Next, I'm about to replace the security guards as that explosion couldn't have happened without the connivance of the security and I want 100% loyalty from everyone, or else their resignations."

"The one weak link in our chain is dead," Bill remarked with a grim voice. "I was coming to see you this week about the guard who was killed as I believed he wasn't pulling his weight and was up to no good.

"He was deep into debt and involved in some shady deals. I was going to ask you to sack him but he left our service prematurely." Bill's chuckle was almost evil.

A council of war followed between Joe, Bill, Susie and Peter.

Joe pointed out that they could not inform anyone other than Mark of what was happening. It was imperative that Mark, who took most of the phone calls, knew what was happening.

Everyone agreed that Joe tell Mark as little as possible but to insist that he handle unusual calls correctly.

During the discussion, Peter requested that they help in providing cars from among the trade-ins, food for his workshop apartment and a steady stockpile of clean clothes.

"No expense is to be spared. You have unlimited credit and you may use petty cash from the workshop to pay for everything. We inform Mark and no one else of the events - especially the police."

He insisted on their support whenever requested without asking any questions or expecting any answers. "A lot of people will die over this affair and I don't propose to be one of them, nor Jennifer nor any of you."

"No questions no pack drills - agreed? I'll advise Andrew to arrive tomorrow with some of my Ghurkha friends. However, I want no one else, not even Ted or Bob, to know what's happened or to become involved.

"Jennifer's on the farm if anyone outside this room asks, and I'm flat out organizing the Sydney end of water harvesting schemes.

"Remember, if we're to rescue Jennifer safely we mustn't mention a word outside this room. No phone calls out until the scramblers are in place, and definitely no phone calls to me without using the scrambler. You are to give me any special messages in person. We don't know how good the enemies' spy system is and we certainly don't need to warn them.

"We can't, with any degree of certainty, identify the enemy at this stage. I have my suspicions but nothing definite and we can't act on suspicions."

Peter got to his feet and prepared to leave.

"Now let's just go about our business as normal. I'll be in the workshop until the end of the day and when its time to close I'll come in here ready for Andrew's call. War has been officially declared, and we will win!"

The workshop had looked worse but Peter couldn't remember when.

Insurance assessors had called and their business cards were on the office table with formal requests for Peter to call.

Joe openly spoke with all the workers, demanding that they allow no stranger in the workshop under any circumstances. They were to call Peter, Bill next door, security or him if anything strange aroused their suspicions, no matter how trivial.

Later Joe spoke of his own plans to Peter, privately. "I'll inform some friends of mine." Peter's glare interrupted him. "No, Peter! Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Joe was quick to reassure Peter. "I'll make no direct reference to Jennifer or about our troubles, not even to my wife, but I'll be stating that Dingo's possibly stepped out of line and requesting them to keep me up-to-date with his movements or anything unusual brewing on that front.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 27



"All conversation will be in my village dialect. No necessity for a scrambler there." He laughed, despite the seriousness of the situation. Joe reveled in his newfound expertise.

Police came and left.

Ted and Bob came, firing many questions, and left when no conclusive answers were forthcoming. Feeling the tension, but reading Peter's body language, they knew it was best not to pursue their worries.

Ted was particularly satisfied that finance was not the cause of the tension as insurance covered the explosion and resulting damage.

Firemen came and went and reporters seemed to camp on the doorstep demanding exclusive interviews.

The day rushed by with still no word from Andrew.

It was late that night when Peter was lying almost comatose on the floor of Bill's office. The jangle of the phone cut into the black hole that was Peter's mind.

"Andrew? Where are you ringing from?" Peter paused while Andrew explained.

"Good! Now listen and don't interrupt. Jennifer's gone missing and I believe someone has kidnapped her. Return to the farm and hitch the cattle trailer to the Mac. Tell the Regimental Sergeant Major I need eight men here urgently and they are to come armed. Their arms will be carried in the company semi and a couple of them are to travel with you - the others will come in company cars and bring the coach as well."

The distraught tone of Peter's voice told Andrew how distressed he was. Ignoring Andrew's need to ask more questions, Peter rattled on.

"Yes, tell your parents about Jennifer and tell them if they want to see Jennifer alive not to ring me. We'll keep them informed using someone delegated by the RSM. If anyone asks, your parents are to say Jennifer is out riding horses and they cannot contact her. Make any excuse at all."

"The RSM is to organize boundary patrols and security for all the personnel of Blake Pastoral. One person is to operate the phone at the hospital, 24/7. Conversation is not to be in English.

He heard Andrew's query. "Yes, that's right. Conversation is not to be in English."

"I may be panicking but neither of your parents is to leave the farm without an armed Ghurkha escort.

"Now get back home, don't bust yourself.

"On the way here allow the Ghurkhas to drive as well. Feed them well. What's that?"

Peter listened to Andrew for a moment.

"Yes, indeed, The Little One is alive and kicking. Say that again!" Peter started to laugh.

"You feel sorry for the poor bastards. They'll never know what hit them! You don't know how right you are.

"Bring my altar and the plaque from my office please, so I don't feel naked. In addition, my attaché case - I believe you know the one. Now go, there's a lot about to happen. See you soon."

As an afterthought he added, "By the way, come up the Olympic way. Take your time and get one of the Ghurkhas to ring me when you're at Bathurst. Go to a pub and ring and don't any of you start drinking."

Andrew was enraged at the peals of loud laughter that came through the phone. He failed to understand how this man could laugh when his wife, Andrew's sister, was in such danger.

Still the orders continued. "Don't leave Bathurst until that Ghurkha speaks with me. Now go. May our God travel with you! Don't forget, ring me from Bathurst and bring the RSM."

Abruptly the long phone call ended.

****** THAT FATEFUL TUESDAY

Late the next day Mark, the bookkeeper, called Peter to the phone. Neither Joe nor Mark understood the conversation as Peter explained in Nepali the next steps the Melbourne team were to take.

"You're to leave the truck in Bathurst and fly to Sydney while one of the group, not Andrew, is to drive the car to the workshop. The car will escort the coach. Wait, Joe my foreman will tell you where to leave the truck in Bathurst."

Peter handed the phone to Joe. "Give them directions. The trucking yard would be excellent."

Speaking slowly and distinctly, much to Peter's amusement, Joe gave the necessary directions. When the call ended, he immediately rang the yard boss in Bathurst.

The soft intonation and the rolling 'r' of Italian were enough to show Peter that Joe was organizing Bathurst.

With the first of the arrangements completed, Peter walked to the Motel where his request to use her phone surprised Susie but her hug told Peter that his friends were just as worried as he was.

He chartered a plane. The pilot was to collect a party of eight with their luggage at Bathurst airport.

When he returned to the workshop office, Joe and Mark were waiting expectantly for him. They made him sit before handing over a small box that a courier had just delivered.

Slowly, with a sinking heart, Peter opened it, dreading the moment when he could see the contents.

Inside was some of Jennifer's hair. Taped to a sheet of paper were her wedding ring and engagement ring. On the paper was a clear communication in flowery script.

'Big Red, our new pony, did not take any training at all.

'Really, she is a good ride and has no further need of these!'

It was unsigned.

Peter's chair crashed back against the wall as he hurled himself to his feet, and the solid office table shook as his fist hammered down to crush the box that had contained the message.

Both Joe and Mark recoiled from the anger blazing from his eyes.

"They are dead men and so is the Thai who wrote this."

He answered the inquisitive stares of his friends with a venomous snarl. "This was written by a Thai - I recognize the letter formation which is peculiar to Thais.

"Bloody hell, that bastard Dingo and his followers are so stupid. I warned them and they ignored my words. That gang, including Pretty Boy, is ignorant." and his voice tailed off in a long list of expletives.

"They are so confident of their own smartness." His swearing would have made a bullock driver proud. "They can run but the bastards can't hide! Vengeance is mine and a reasonable payment for their stupidity will be their lives."

Lovingly, he lifted the two rings to his lips and kissed them. He stared at them for a long time before scooping the hair up to his nose. Washing the lock in his tears, he inhaled her fragrance. Peter carefully placed her hair, her rings wrapped in the paper and the note in an envelope that he then locked in the office safe.

Suddenly the phone rang and Mark answered then handed it to Joe who quickly broke into Italian. The conversation was brief.

When the call finished Joe translated. "Our favorite black Mercedes collected two Arabs - renowned horse breeders and traders in female flesh - from the International Terminal. The car took them to a mansion in Hunters Hill where the Arabs are obviously guests. You'll never miss them as they're dressed in traditional Arab white clothing with the usual headpiece.

"Their photos will be in tomorrow's sporting section as they're here to collect a special mare."

Peter's harsh snarl cut across Joe's translation. "I hope they enjoyed their trip to Sydney as I am afraid they will be collecting no mare. In fact, they have sealed their death warrant. They have come a long way to meet the Angel of Death." A bitter, angry outburst of hate colored his voice.

Joe and Mark were startled at the change in Peter but they could nod their agreement.

"Thank your friends, Joe."

"No need for thanks Boss," answered Joe. "You'd be surprised how many taxis followed that car and are now in Hunter's Hill waiting for fares."

The phone rang again. Joe absentmindedly picked it up as he watched Peter's face intently.

"Joe speaking." Then he immediately broke into Italian. Even Mark, who thought he could speak a few European languages and whose Italian was good, didn't have the faintest idea what Joe was saying in his dialect.

"Thanks. Keep in touch," Joe concluded.

Those were the only words Peter or Mark understood.

"I believed my Italian was good but..." Mark commented with a laugh.

"Unless you were born in the same village as me on the island of Sicily you wouldn't understand a word of what I was saying," was Joe's laughing reply.

"Peter let's go." He led him into the street where they couldn't be overheard. "Things are developing. Silver Service Limousines have contacted me to say Dingo has ordered four limos for 8pm Friday to pick up at Hunters Hill and drop off at the Red Jade, Dingo's own nightclub.

"It appears the nightclub chef has his knickers in a knot, as all food is to be Halal. In fact, the staff is furious. They're ready to quit but are terrified of repercussions."

Mark interrupted any further comment by calling Peter out of the street to the phone. A quick conversation in Cantonese ensued.

"God, this is like the United Nations," Joe remarked.

Peter returned to the street to continue the conversation with Joe. Laughing at the surprised look on Joe's face he announced, "Our troops arrive tomorrow and Dingo's fools genuinely consider they are so smart.

"We shall see! Stop looking worried and surprised, Joe, I've merely called in some debts owed to me." Peter threw these words back at Joe as he rushed up the hill to the Motel.

"Cancel all bookings for say the next month, please Susie. Any bookings you're holding, arrange to pass onto nearby motels and you pick up the tab. Make them free to your clients so they'll definitely wish to come back. I'll leave the appropriate arrangements to you but the motel will hang the NO VACANCY sign out until I say otherwise. I'll sign the register as a business booking now.

"You'll have no problem with the motel owner as you'll be showing a healthy profit during this period. At least, for a while you'll have quality time with James."

Susie could only shake her head in surprise as Peter wrote in flourishing calligraphy the official names of two companies - one in Mandarin Script and the other in Tamil.

"Your guests are hopefully arriving tomorrow morning and taking a few tours of Sydney before beginning the hard work and study at Blake Pastoral," he explained. "Blake Pastoral will be looking after the tab and will be paying you something special for being a gracious hostess."

Ignoring her efforts to refuse, he phoned Blake Pastoral and merely grunted, "The acting RSM please," before breaking into Nepali. When he had eventually concluded his orders, he put his arm across Susie's shoulder to reassure her.

"Stop looking so worried Susie. Never fear, we will rescue Jennifer and I'll kill the scum responsible for her plight. That's a guarantee, not a threat, and it'll be to my immense satisfaction. Tomorrow night you'll discover why I'm laughing at these fools."

"Just as well, the car park is large as a tourist coach'll be here tomorrow and will be parked on the premises to transport your guests. Perhaps, if you're up to it, you could go with the coach as hostess as you know Sydney pretty well. I know the passengers will enjoy James and spoil him rotten."

"The men who are coming are good fun. They're bloody dangerous but good fun. They'll protect you and James. God," his face broke into despair, "if only I'd taken the same care of Jennifer."

Tearfully, he retraced his way to the workshop where he called Joe and handed the phone to him.

"Ring your mates in the taxis. Singapore Airlines Flight 301 from Singapore arrives at 7am tomorrow. They'll hold up a sign Little One Tours and will collect sixteen passengers. Blake Pastoral will pay all bills for the trip. The expenses will include 25% cash tip for each driver. They are to take two passengers per cab and the taxis are to be clean. The drivers are to dress in clean uniforms. Can you arrange that? They're to be brought to Susie's Motel where the drivers will have breakfast with our guests and get to know them."

Joe stared at this man who was so calmly arranging a war, a gang war where there could only be one outcome.

Dingo wouldn't have time to duck or run.

The telephone conversation continued for a long time and Peter was becoming impatient when Joe replaced the phone. "Now that was really interesting," Joe commented. "It seems Dingo's been running a protection racket on the various taxi fleets, and when a few drivers rebelled by smashing up his Merc, they were killed. Now they're only too pleased to assist you."

****** THAT FATEFUL WEDNESDAY

It was very early Wednesday morning when two Victorian cars drove to the entrance of the workshop and Peter directed them to the motel where they were booked in as guests of Blake Pastoral.

The first of the invited visitors had arrived.

Taxi after taxi dropped their fares at the motel before disappearing into the traffic. None of the guests signed the register and none gave their name. To Susie they were nameless Ghurkhas, Indians or Chinese.

Andrew arrived and the motel was quickly filling.

The first out of the coach were the two daughters of the RSM. They rushed to Susie demanding to see James William.

Peter was surprised but instinctively he knew the RSM had supplied his own bodyguards for the baby. Ghurkha women were renowned for their fierce protection of their children.

An even bigger surprise was the last passenger to alight. The surgeon from Blake Pastoral's village hospital stepped forward to grip Peter's hand. "The RSM demanded I come in case some of you wild, hot headed young fellows get injured."

No one left the premises and there seemed to be an air of urgent expectancy and excitement hanging over the building. Food arrived. The new guests were served an Italian lunch.

Susie had ceased to be amazed at her guests' courtesy and smiling treatment of her and the baby.

She recognized the RSM and his daughters but all the other Ghurkhas looked alike and they didn't attempt to introduce themselves. The RSM said they had unpronounceable names and called them by their various ranks. He added that it was better if no one knew their names but didn't elaborate.

That night a banquet was prepared in the dining room and Bill, Susie, Mark, Joe and Joe's wife, Maria, were honored guests. Two special guests were invited - Ted and Bob.

During the meal, Susie whispered to Peter that the two babysitters had tossed her out of the baby's room and had made up beds in his room to look after him all night. It was as though the girls intended keeping a 24/7 watch on him. The meal eventually ended and two Ghurkhas moved to guard the door guaranteeing absolute privacy,

Andrew stood. Hesitating, he looked over the eager faces, and then began to address the crowd.

"Friends, it's my sister who's been taken. It's Peter's wife who's been stolen and," he proceeded to outline Peter's background. The welcome visitors from Malaysia, Singapore and the Ghurkhas all knew Peter's history, but of the others, only Susie had a vague outline. Ted and Bob were flummoxed.

He finalized his talk with the brief words, "There'll only be five involved in the planning to rescue Jennifer: Joe, the RSM, Peter, Bill and I, and only Peter will be in charge knowing the total plan."

"Susie, will you arrange accommodation for Maria, as she'll be staying here for a while. Peter, Joe and I have to work. I think Peter has an evil plan for me to get blisters on my hands tonight as he says I don't know what hard work is.

"Mark, Bob and Ted are to be our smokescreen people. You're to confer closely with the RSM, Bill and Peter so the smokescreen is extremely dense and most effective.

"Now everyone sleep well. There's plenty of wine and beer here so enjoy yourselves. Have a party but no sore heads. Okay, Peter let's go. Come on Joe, I believe I'm your apprentice. I'll make you earn your money tonight."

With Joe and Peter as passengers, Andrew drove the tourist coach into the workshop where advertisements announcing Little One's Australasian Tours replaced the Blake Pastoral signs on the sides and rear. Andrew under Joe's guidance unscrewed the Mercedes insignia and grunted when assisting in the removal of the bull bar.

The new bull bar and Scania signs were in place when, knowing that it was not the cleanest of jobs, Joe made Andrew crawl under the bus. He was to hold the air hose in place and increase the pressure in the air bags so the extra weight on the Mercedes' chassis would not be noticeable.

"If the Germans could camouflage a destroyer as an ordinary tramp steamer then we can disguise this coach." Peter tried to encourage them.

The three men even changed the registration plates before being satisfied. When all was completed, Joe drove the disguised coach to the motel where he joined Maria although there was not much left of the night for sleep.

Slowly Andrew walked back to the motel. He wondered how his hands would recover from their blisters as he collapsed on the bed and slept in his clothes. 

****** THAT FATEFUL THURSDAY

On Thursday morning the moment breakfast was finished, Andrew, Joe, The Commander, the RSM, one Chinese, one Tamil and Peter walked to Bill's office for a Council of War. A Ghurkha stood guard and Peter smiled ruthfully knowing they would not be disturbed.

Breathless and fussing about everyone's health, Susie walked in. Before sitting, she had checked that breakfast had been to their tastes. Laughing, she explained that her Italian cook had learnt to share his kitchen with one Tamil and one Chinese and the three had prepared breakfasts for their own contingent. She had left the three of them discussing recipes and exchanging tips.

"Those guests can stay anytime. They're so polite and thoughtful. A certain husband, here, had better take care else they may be taking me back with them." She ruffled Bill's hair as she sat beside Peter.

Even the surprise of her late arrival did not cut into Peter's intense anger and he made his feelings obvious, demanding they attack Dingo and his mob immediately.

An intense debate followed with everyone vigorously advancing ideas and the volume had risen to an alarming level.

The calm, confident voice of the RSM halted all disputes. "Peter, in the jungle, it was the patient attack that succeeded. How many times did we attack and completely rout the enemy with no loss of any of our men. You stop and think. Why were we so successful?"

Awaiting an answer, he paused and stared at Peter before continuing positively. "We must prepare for a battle that will come, and it will come make no mistake. These people will not give Jennifer up willingly.

"We cannot storm their castle.

"Police would arrive and we would lose men needlessly. Slowly, slowly - surprise and stealth will be our allies.

"First we must send out our scouts."

Peter clenched his fists as he rose to interject although instinctively he knew that the RSM was correct.

The Commander leant across to pull Peter back down to his seat. "Come on Peter be rational. What's the sense in having Jennifer free if you're dead?

"Your RSM's a military man and is planning a military style operation.

"The navy says hoist the mainsails, heave to and fire a broadside. Yet we are not at sea so we use camouflage and smokescreens to deceive the enemy.

"We're aiming at the complete destruction of Dingo. You may be surprised that my conflict with Dingo goes back a long way. I also have some scores to settle so sit and listen to some common sense."

"But." Peter tried to interject.

"But -- bloody nothing! Just shut up and listen." Bill, the ex-naval Commander had lost patience. "You may not be willing to admit it but we are all in this together."

Methodically the RSM continued. "To succeed, this must be a military style operation. Last night while you and your wicked workman wore out the poor little farmer, Bill, Susie, your two tourists here and I made plans for today." He nodded at the Tamil and the Chinese trying to lighten the atmosphere. It was imperative that Peter realize they would gain nothing rushing ahead to attack the criminals.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 27



"Our first sortie will be this afternoon at 2 o'clock. By then Dingo will believe that after receiving that wonderfully kind parcel Peter, in a blind craven panic, has decided to do nothing. Dingo will be expecting no trouble.

"We'll have a tourist coach full of two platoons of our tourists. One platoon will be Tamil, the other Chinese. This is the first sortie of the war. We'll have an excellent driver, Andrew, and we'll have a charming tourist coach guide in Susie.

"On the coach will also be our sergeant and two communications specialists. They will enjoy a tour!" He gave a toothy grin showing that he was delighted to reveal the extensive expertise of this little army.

"The tour will be of Sydney and will include the residential suburb of Hunters Hill. Perhaps a certain mansion will be a focal point of the tour," and he elaborated on the plan. "It'll be a full afternoon and after returning the tourists to the Motel to change, the coach hostess and the Chinese tourists will be having a Chinese meal at the nightclub, Red Jade. The Tamil platoon will accompany them but, with Andrew, will be investigating the streets and laneways around the nightclub.

"I'm sure that in spite of Susie's words Bill won't object to Susie dancing at the club with the tourists." The RSM had a wicked gleam in his eyes. "The driver will return the tourists to the motel late after an evening of exploration, dancing and good food."

Further discussion was impossible as the shrill jangling of the phone broke into their thoughts.

"Bill speaking - yes certainly. One moment," and he beckoned Joe to the phone.

Terrified that it was bad news, Peter sagged and the fight left him.

Aware of his distress, Susie slid an arm around his shoulders and she whispered into his ear. "Peter, bear up! The war has started. The surprise attack on Pearl Harbor will be nothing compared to what we'll achieve. No bombs no collateral damage just a lot of fear and destruction to some unwanted people." She kissed him on the cheek.

Breathlessly, still holding the phone but with the mouthpiece covered, Joe announced, "The bastards had a deep water anchorage at the rear of the Hunters Hill mansion and they've taken off in a huge, pleasure craft called The Pony Stable.

"They're travelling slowly as if showing two Arabs in their national dress the sights of Lane Cove River. A water taxi is following. He asks if there are any suggestions.

"He told me that a TV news boat is presently dropping the cast of Sydney Harbor Rats at out local yacht club."

Laughing, he commented, "It must be Italians' day out on the harbor.

"The master of the boat and the camera men are all part of his family and he knows they're desperately trying to bring Dingo down because of the murder of their young relations." Joe stopped and looked expectantly around.

Again, Peter sagged and seemed defeated -- feeling all his plans had come to naught.

Bill took over. "Well, well! Sergeant Major step back, it's time for the Navy to take over!" He considered his expertise was required at last. His grim face showed he was once more The Commander in charge of a naval operation.

"That's the boat we suspected was being used in drug running, but it was so fast we could never prove a thing. Well now, thanks to Little One Cleansing Company they're about to come adrift." He laughed heartily knowing how successful they would be. He'd not been a Commander in the navy without having some friends.

"Joe, radio that water taxi to keep following. Tell that driver to inform the TV news vessel that Commander Bill Williams and party will be passengers in a short while. Yes," he grinned at Peter, "they know me. No, I was not a film star in Sydney Harbor Rats. I'm far too tall and too ugly.

He laughed at Susie's denial.

"Tell the crew they could be on a huge news scoop but they are to keep their mouths shut or they'll end up swimming with sharks." His laughter belied the severity of his words.

"I was their naval liaison officer. Now Peter and Joe, we're off for a morning on the high seas." His air of quiet confidence was enough to ease Peter's distress.

The meeting broke up quietly.

Susie dropped behind to give Peter a hug and her husband a kiss with the advice. "Be careful, James and I love and need you."

Andrew and Susie with their two Asian guests quietly made their way back to the motel.

The Pony Stable crawled its way out of Lane Cover River past the Woolwich headland into the Parramatta River and even more slowly made its way towards Balmain Wharf.

Two shadows trailed behind.

The news crew kept their cameras rolling and Peter standing alongside told them he wanted every face visible for his own inspection. However, they were close enough for Peter to recognize Dingo, Pretty Boy and the two Arabs, recognisable only by their dress.

Peter's knuckles were white with tension as he gripped the rail while he stared at Dingo's boat.

It took the RSM's words, "Control yourself Little One, this is the Commander's patrol," to stop Peter from hurling himself overboard in the hope of rescuing Jennifer.

Waiting on the wharf were some women passengers, one of whom had red hair. None too gently, the six men on the wharf herded the women aboard The Pony Stable. Although the bodyguards were rough in the control of the women, they were guarding them most carefully.

"The bastards aren't going out to sea with those women," was The Commander's comment. He reached for the radio and tuned into the restricted naval frequency.

Quietly he spoke into the handpiece. "This is urgent! Put me through to the Fleet Commander's Office. Yes, this is," turning away, he dropped his voice even lower as if to conceal his plans from the others.

Eventually he readjusted the frequency and told Joe to send the water taxi to Garden Island to collect two navy divers and their gear.

His excuse seemed credible. "There are some naval manoeuvres and the navy is short of maritime transport. The divers will tell the taxi operator what they want to do but he must be trust worthy and able to keep his mouth shut."

Joe was quick to reassure him. "I can assure you of that. His son was one of the taxi drivers killed by Dingo."

Neither Peter nor Joe could understand Bill's good humor as he hummed, laughed and cackled as though he had taken leave of his senses.

A member of the crew brought them coffee which Bill gratefully welcomed, while the others, ignoring their mugs, just watched him.

The procession continued, The Pony Stable, the TV News crew and far behind a water taxi with the divers. Sedately they made their way down the Harbor until The Pony Stable turned into Athol Bight and dropped anchor.

Everyone looked at the Commander inquisitively waiting for the next step in the sequence.

The RSM grinned as a crewmember hoisted a message board stating, On Location.

Around the point, with a spume of spray fishtailing from the rear sped the water taxi. It made a wide sweep around the far side of The Pony Stable before heading back towards Circular Quay.

The Commander was quite at ease although no one was visible on The Pony Stable, not even the guards. To anyone watching he could have been half-asleep. When the cameramen left their cameras he growled, "Get back to work, you haven't seen anything yet. Watch Cremorne Point and watch The Pony Stable carefully. You are about to have a news scoop." He closed his eyes, relaxing, as he knew his plans were coming to fruition.

His fellow conspirators were not so relaxed. Peter, in his brightly colored life jacket was circling the deck like a white pointer ready to seize its prey. The RSM was studying the decks of their quarry through binoculars trying to see exactly what was happening on The Pony Stable. Joe was watching Peter carefully for any signs of hot headed, spontaneous reactions to rescue Jennifer from the floating whorehouse.

"Christ that boat's sinking!" was the yell from one cameraman. The other cameraman shouted, "So what, look what's coming around the Point."

Three rubber duckies thundered around the Point flying flags to indicate they were on naval exercise. Close behind was a Water Police patrol. One cameraman focused on The Pony Stable as it delicately settled lower and lower in the water. The other swung his camera between the naval rubber duckies and the Water Police.

The Water Police pulled alongside The Pony Stable and the police helped the women aboard the police launch.

It was obvious what had been happening aboard The Pony Stable as the women were in various stages of undress and the men were naked.

Peter was extremely agitated, trying to scrutiny each woman as the police rescued them. When he glimpsed a red headed woman, he recognized her immediately, even at that distance.

His scream like an animal in pain made the cameramen pay particular attention to his words, "No woman's face is to be recognized on the news. If it is, you answer to me." The tone of voice was enough to guarantee they complied.

The Commander was alert to the reactions of Peter as he was creating a scene that could undo the smooth, carefully planned operation. "Take us back to the Yacht Club immediately," was his order.

Back in the BMW Office Bill beamed. "At last! At long bloody last, I've nailed the bastard. No more drug running for him."

"Jennifer's safe - well not as safe as we all wish, but I was concerned they were about to rush out to sea and transfer the women to a ship in International Waters outside the reach of the Navy. However, we've stopped that caper.

"The navy is warned and we have the country covered and there's no way they'll fly out of Australia as the expensive plane which carried the two Arabs is on fire even as we speak. Strange that."

The phone rang and when he finished the call, his grin was even wider and was almost infectious. "The divers are examining the sunken wreck and they've found some interesting facts."

While the four were discussing their naval adventure, the tourist coach with its full load of travelers and the coach hostess, Susie, operating the microphone, wound its way along the tree lined streets of Hunters Hill.

The passengers constantly demanded that the coach stop, while they rushed out to take photos of the various mansions.

The guards at one set of gates were unwilling to pose and rudely ordered the tourists away but then had to open the gate to allow a big black Mercedes to leave.

The tourists swarmed through the open gates taking photographs of the guards, the guardhouse and the electronic surveillance gear.

Six Chinese and a handful of Tamils crowded around the guards so closely that the guards felt uncomfortable. These tourists kept the guards occupied while the Ghurkha sergeant and two of his specialists slipped into the guardhouse where they quickly made the surveillance equipment inoperable in such a way that it seemed to be working but was seeing nothing.

Quickly, the gatehouse guards tired of the tourists and their endless polite questions in English so heavily accented as to be almost unintelligible. While calling for reinforcements, the guards tried ushering the unwelcome tourists back to their coach.

Confusion reigned, especially as the savage guard dogs were disinterested in helping round up the tourists but instead hid behind their handlers.

Given a signal by the sergeant, Andrew gave a single toot on the air horn. The tourists obediently clambered back into the bus with much laughter and backslapping as they compared their pictures.

The last tourist aboard couldn't help teasing the guard. "See ya cobber," were his words as he swung aboard.

As the bus drove off the guard, puzzled, watch it disappear around the corner.

The other guards were thankful that they were able to get rid of the inquisitive, non-English speaking busybodies so quickly. They hadn't noticed anything missing, nor had they noticed that the gates wouldn't close correctly.

That evening the coach parked at Darling Harbor and the tourists caught the monorail to Chinatown.

The Tamils took Andrew and went off searching Chinatown for a suitable Indian Restaurant. They didn't attempt to give Andrew their names and made certain that other than an occasional heavily accented comment to him they rowdily conversed in Tamil.

Andrew noticed they cut quite a swathe though the evening crowd of Chinese who didn't seem anxious to tangle with Tamils.

The Chinese platoon, as the RSM called that group of tourists, escorted Susie to the Red Jade where she was kept dancing with various members of the group while they waited for their meal. The patrons were amused that the Chinese group seemed to be vying with each other for her company, as not once did she manage to complete a dance with a single partner.

Three tall Chinese who suddenly appeared in his kitchen startled the chef. They ignored his English and he shook when their guttural Cantonese barked orders for a meal.

The chef knew - he didn't need them to inform him - he was in the hands of a Tong, although where they came from, he had no idea.

With such pleasant smiles that he could ill ignore, they insisted the chef show them the toilets, the rear entrance to the lane behind the building, the scullery, the electronic surveillance and the pantry as though they were about to make a take-over bid.

The strangers demanded to see the bookings for each night and were surprised that the management was closing the venue the next night.

When questioned, the chef reluctantly admitted it was a private party for Dingo, some of his women and two Arabs. Trembling violently, the chef needed no warning about the crass stupidity of repeating anything said or the extreme personal danger of even mentioning the visit by these strangers.

It was no surprise to the group that the discourse at each table was recorded using a microphone hidden in the red dragon that formed the center piece of every table but one - the Boss's special, a permanently reserved table at the back of the dining room where it overlooked everything.

The meal arrived and Susie sat at the head of the table. The red dragon centerpiece had numerous bottles of Tiger Beer emptied over it for luck. The bath of beer resulted in a strange hissing and crackling noise.

"Don't alter a thing, not a single thing" was the direct caution by the person who seemed the leader of the group as they left.

The staff had every reason to look most worried.

At the motel, eventually growing hungry, Peter, Joe, the RSM and the Commander made their way to the dining room. The place seemed strangely empty as the four of them sat.

Suddenly the RSM sprang to his feet and dashed off. Moments later, he returned with his two daughters one of whom was carrying James.

Bill held out his arms and then tried to eat his meal one handed as he gave his son more attention than the food.

The RSM could only laugh. "Bill I had to fight my daughters to bring the young one down from his room. I believe he will be spoilt."

The room was no longer empty and quiet as James tried to join the chatter.

White with anxiety, Peter was silent and withdrawn as he thought of the family he and Jennifer had aimed to have.

The phone rang and Bill left to answer the call. He returned to inform them that the TV news at midnight would be interesting and an unabridged, uncensored version of their naval adventure was on its way.

At 11.45, they heard the rumble of the bus and waited for the tourists to arrive.

First into the room was Susie who immediately flared into anger because her baby was still out of bed although he was soundly asleep in his father's arms. The two babysitters instantly fled with James while Peter got beer and wine ready for everyone.

The RSM would not allow anyone to talk as the midnight news came on with a pre-view showing The Pony Stable slowly sinking. The newsroom had savagely edited the report that aimed to make viewers tune in the following day to watch the outcome.

Bill put the cd from the news crew in the player and everyone watched the complete photographic record of the event. When he saw the girls on the wharf at Balmain the RSM shouted "Stop! Go back a little I want to see those girls again. Okay... pause!"

Peter wept openly and Susie, although in a severe state of shock herself, just held his hands while repeatedly whispering. "She's alive, she's alive."

Jennifer was difficult to recognize with her hair cut short and a peculiar collar around her neck. Gone was the smartly dressed young lawyer. Instead, she looked like a highly priced whore.

The RSM moved closer to the screen to scrutinise the collar worn by each of the girls. Finally, he made the observation, "Those collars are electronic controls. If the girl says or does anything wrong, someone with the master control presses a switch and the girl is choked. It may only be for a significant instant but it can cause death.

"I suggest we don't try to rescue Jennifer or, indeed, any of the girls until we discover who's holding the master control."

His advice was enough to stop the viewing and Andrew, visibly upset, stumbled through his report on the bus trip.

Seeing his distress the Ghurkha sergeant holding three pieces of electronic gear aloft assisted him. The sergeant carefully explained how his men had immobilised the security. He guaranteed they could get through the security gate.

Loud teeth-sucking noises showed the disapproval of the Chinese for what they had seen. The Tamils were cracking their knuckles and the Ghurkhas had their hands on their khukuris.

Susie, Joe and Bill knew that their guests wouldn't rest until they eliminated Dingo and his men and Jennifer was free but at the same time Peter's mental state worried them.

Staring at the screen with tears pouring from his eyes Peter sat motionless and oblivious of the comments around him. Slumped in his chair, unblinking, he gazed at the screen, the torture of his concern for Jennifer's well being freezing his mind.

The leader of the Chinese then stood -- Susie never learnt his name. On the whiteboard, he drew a plan of the nightclub and explained in minute detail not only the layout but also the security system.

Next the Tamil leader gave full details of the laneway at the rear of the nightclub and the requirements for guaranteeing speedy and safe exit from the nightclub through the rear door. His face broke into a smile as he concluded his report pointing out that Andrew would have to have a lot of practice with chilies and learn to eat South Indian curries before leading them again.

Andrew could only groan.

****** THAT FATEFUL FRIDAY

Over breakfast next morning, the little army was busy with war plans outlining the evening's activities. Everyone seemed pleased to be pushing ahead with plans to rescue Jennifer.

The extended discussion of the evening's plans was interspersed with laughter as the morning papers, full of the mysterious sinking of The Pony Stable, arrived.

Peter was pleased there were no photos of the women. The cameramen had heeded his warning.

Much discussion followed and it was over two hours before the plans were satisfactorily finalized. Maps were drawn and the RSM delegated jobs.

Joe, Bill and Susie were to stay at the motel and keep themselves ready at the communications center. However Andrew was to drive the coach loaded with the two 'platoons' of tourists to Chinatown, unload then return to the motel.

Andrew was to take four Ghurkhas with him and he was to show them the route from the Motel to Chinatown. The Ghurkhas were to remain with the coach.

Eight Ghurkhas were to use cars from the used car lot and to be at Chinatown at 10 ready to collect their passengers in the laneway at the rear of the nightclub at a moment's notice. They were to carry their khukuris concealed.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 28



Resuming his position at the kitchen doors, the old Chinese carefully controlled the waiters as they successfully served Dingo's guests. Then, tiring of the charade, he turned, pushed on the swinging doors into the kitchen and grunted an order in Cantonese.

Carrying a roasted pig's head on a huge platter, two waiters appeared. They followed the old Chinese as he painfully hobbled to stand behind Jennifer. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Peter placed his hand on Jennifer's shoulder as he leant across her to place a plate of chilies, swimming in fish oil and soy sauce, on the table in front of her.

Turning her head, she looked into his heavily disguised face and for an instant, her eyes shone with recognition and warmth. Then, just as quickly, a dull reflection of fear and hurt replaced that look in her eyes.

Peter snatched her chopsticks and slashed them past one Arab's eyes to drive them upright into a bed of rice - a sign of death. At the same time, the two waiters placed a roasted pig's head before the Arabs.

In that split second, horrified, the Arabs recoiled from the pig's head on the table in front of them. Dingo looked as if he were about to explode.

Peter punched his Cobra ring into the throat of the Arab who still held his hand under Jennifer's skirt.

A scream rent the air and the lights went out.

Within minutes, the lights came on and the party, still seated at the table found they were alone with a dead Arab face down on the pig. There were the twin puncture wounds of a snake's fangs in his throat. No sound had alerted them to the fact that the waiters had completed their mission and had slipped away into the night.

The two police officers and the politicians were quick to leave the scene.

As arranged, Ghurkha drivers had their cars in place. They picked up the conspirators in the darkness of the alley so that the waiters left nothing for inquisitive police except the security tapes playing "M... I... C... K... E... Y... Mickey Mouse."

Knowing they had some time before anyone returned to Hunters Hill, the drivers travelled carefully. The main gates were open and the Ghurkhas at the main gate smiled, waving them through. The procession of cars stopped, dropped their passengers then sped off.

As he walked into the large formal entertaining area Peter noticed saw two guards dead, garrotted on the floor, while six others sat, tied to their chairs. Unfettered in anyway the Thai Katoey was angrily stamping her anger at her captors who stood grinning, amused at her actions.

The Katoey was furious.

"You wait until Dingo hears about this. You'll be sorry," and the Katoey continued to scream until Peter put his face close to hers.

Staring hard into her eyes, he bellowed in Thai, "Shut up whore! Before long you will regret you ever met me."

Maybe it was the cruelty in his voice, maybe it was his Thai that made the Katoey stop her wailing threats. A puddle of urine formed at her feet.

The Ghurkhas laughter was contemptuous.

The RSM called to Peter from another room. "I believe you should see this." As Peter entered the entertainment room where three Ghurkha's stood waiting stoically, the RSM pressed a button on the DVD player.

A pornographic film burst into life on the screen. It began in a bedroom. As the action progressed, a door opened and two men dragged a red headed woman through the doorway and threw her onto the bed. Like piranhas in a blood-filled stream, they tore the clothes from her body ignoring her screams for help and pleas to release her.

When the men had first dragged the woman into the room, Peter had been uncertain that it was Jennifer because of her dress, hairstyle and look of being an over-used whore. However, he instantly recognized her voice.

The film continued, revealing the Thai Katoey's involvement in the sexual degradation and humiliation of Jennifer.

Without waiting for the film to end, he gave the order, "Bring the DVD!" Storming back to the main room with Dingo's guards, Peter stood, emotionless studying their faces. In Tamil he barked an order, "Kill them!"

The guards gurgled and struggled against the silken loops around their necks then quickly dropped lifeless to the cold floor.

Turning to the Katoey, he unsheathed the khukuri hanging from his belt.

"Please, please I didn't know. If you spare me I can make you a rich man." Terrified the Katoey fell to her knees with the bodies of the dead guards around her.

Nicking his thumb, Peter returned his khukuri to its sheath. Motionless, he stared into the quivering wretch's eyes and then, through gritted teeth, demanded in shrill Thai. "Show me and be quick."

Almost running in her eagerness, the katoey led the group to the study where she pulled back a bookcase and opened the wall safe.

Hurling the ladyboy to one side and, taking a long look into the safe Peter bellowed, "Bring the large van that was traded today. Now!"

Terrified the Katoey lay on the floor watching, aware that it was only a matter of time before she would die.

As Peter ransacked the safe, a number of passports of young Asian women and money of large denominations spilled on the floor. On the bottom shelf nestled a large number of gold ingots.

Within minutes, Ghurkhas stood in the driveway, waiting to load passports, money and gold ingots into the van, when it arrived, possibly along with the sole live prisoner.

The RSM handed Peter a box filled with DVDs before he went off with his men to prepare the property for their departure. The boat shed, jetty and mansion would cease to exist. It was to be a warm warning for Dingo.

Four Tamils painted the sign of Kali, the powerful, patron Goddess of Thuggees on the driveway. Others decorated the outside walls of the mansion with similar signs.

Satisfied, the RSM bellowed an order in Nepali finalising the planting of evidence to link the deaths with worshippers of Kali, the murderous cult which had been outlawed many years previously by the British Raj.

Peter repeated the order in Tamil.

The cars and the van formed a well-protected convoy back to the workshop where the drivers returned the cars to the used car lot.

After collecting a trolley from the workshop, Peter and the RSM drove the van to Peter's condominium where they transferred the contents of the van to his safe. The security code for the lift was changed and the two of them returned to the motel.

On the way back, Peter made the wry comment, "Well, we have one passenger to keep the cattle company." He turned to check on the bound and gagged Katoey, cowering in the corner.

****** That Fateful Saturday

Breakfast was a rowdy affair as everyone had his own tale to tell. The papers arrived and everyone collected their copy.

'MALICIOUS FIREBUG BURNS HUNTERS HILL MANSION.'

'WELL-KNOWN ARAB RACING IDENTITY ATTACKED BY SNAKE AT DINNER TABLE.'

The particular headlines were both lurid and accurate. There were numerous pictures, even one of Pretty Boy leading Jennifer out of the nightclub.

Suddenly the phone rang and Susie called Joe. Everyone watched in silence until he turned and addressed Peter. "Well we have spooked the enemy. The second Arab's just called for a cab to take him to the airport and he sounded scared."

"Call me a cab while I get a little farewell present for him from all of us." Peter was pleased that another opportunity for retribution had presented itself so quickly.

"You're not going alone." Andrew sounded distraught. "We're talking about my sister here. I demand to become involved."

"You're not going this trip. However you could be driving the coach this afternoon, as we could have some passengers later today if Joe's friends come up with the information we need." Reassuring Andrew, Peter turned and left to return to his room above the workshop.

When Peter reappeared disguised as a brown eyed Arab, his arrival broke the earlier scene of calm into one of considerable commotion. The sudden arrival of an Arab startled everyone but Peter's voice reassured them, even though he addressed them in Arabic, "Salaam Alaykum." He repeated the message and they were astounded that his voice had this time completely changed.

"I need to do this alone as I don't want anyone's face on security cameras at the airport. The best I can offer is to get my driver to call you when my mission is complete. While I'm away Joe, ask your friends where the girls were taken last night."

"I already know," Joe replied quickly.

"Jennifer was taken to a hotel in the city. She spent the night there with the Arab, Pretty Boy and Dingo. Guards took the others to a brothel in Redfern. It trades as the Raging Bull."

Smiling, he inquired. "Have you got your key? You may need it."

In reply, Peter patted his pocket before producing the key Joe had so painstakingly duplicated all those months previously.

"Joe, tell your cabbie that his Hunters Hill fare -- the Arab - is to be dropped close to the doors of the airport departure lounge. I'll be there to greet him and introduce him to the Angel of Death. Tonight he will most certainly not be dwelling in paradise with eight virgins. Now RSM get one of the used cars from the lot. You're my driver."

Peter knew the police would never get the RSM to crack under questioning should anything go wrong.

The drive to the airport was swift and both men were quiet. The RSM concentrated on his driving while Peter, disguised as an Arab, studied the passing scenery as if a tourist.

They timed their arrival so well that the RSM drew up behind the taxi just as the Hunters Hill fare stepped out.

"Salaam Alaykum." The Arab turned to greet a fellow Arab.

Peter grabbed his shoulders and pulled him hard against his chest. Right cheek to right cheek he breathed in the Arab's ear. "Tonight you dwell in hell. You have pig fat on your face and Allah forbids pigs. You used my wife and you came here to purchase her." Left check to left cheek, Peter continued. "The Angel of Death is with you. Enjoy hell and remember you have missed the eight virgins." Then he thrust the cobra ring into the Arab's neck.

Peter was in the car and well away as the Arab sank to the pavement clutching the wound.

As they drove, they heard the news on the car radio. "Gang wars erupt in Sydney."

"Two Middle Eastern horse racing identities who arrived just a few days ago to purchase a mysterious mare are both dead. Some well-known criminal identities died of a drug overdose in the toilets of a notorious nightclub.

"As well, several bodies were in the destroyed home of the crime baron Dingo Ryan. Their manner of death suggests that Thuggees, followers of the Goddess Kali, are responsible but police admit they have no clues to follow."

The newsreader made a dry remark as he introduced an advertising break. "This must be Dingo's unlucky week as his fifty million dollar luxury cruiser sank in the harbor earlier this week."

Peter laughed briefly and then resumed his clear-sighted instructions to the RSM.

"Stop at the next petrol station and ring Andrew," he ordered. "Tell him to meet us with the coach at the brothel in Redfern. Joe will be navigator and is to remain in the coach. They are to bring six Ghurkhas with them as back up. We'll be inside waiting for them. Bring insulated bolt cutters."

As an afterthought he added, "Tell Joe we're at the Service Station on the corner of Elizabeth and Williams Streets. Ask him to send a driver who can lead us to the Raging Bull brothel."

Within minutes, a taxi pulled into the Service Station and the driver walked across to tell Peter to follow his cab. The two cars meandered their way through the traffic until the taxi stopped outside a tidy but unpretentious residence.

Still dressed as an Arab and using the key, Peter swept inside the brothel pushing the security guard aside. "Bring that red headed girl now." He demanded. "I have a use for her." Pointing to the obscene picture of Jennifer on the wall Peter reinforced his order.

"She hasn't returned your Excellency but I'll bring others for your enjoyment." The guard only got as far as the door. The last thing he heard was a soft puff and the last thing he felt was the sting in his neck. He crashed to the floor before he had time to realize he'd been hit by a poisonous dart.

Peter waited to see what would happen as the security camera glared down on the scene like an unblinking, baleful Cyclops. Patiently he stood in the center of the room until he heard the noise of the coach pulling up outside.

First through the door was Andrew. His face was a picture of absolute despondency when he realized Jennifer wasn't there.

"Spread out, take the keys from the goon on the floor and thoroughly search the area. Kill any male you find but bring all the women here. Hand me the bolt cutters." Peter, who had reverted to the cold-blooded killing machine of his youth, watched the Ghurkhas eagerly carrying out his instructions. First, they unsheathed their khukuris and then stealthily began the hunt.

Devoid of emotion, he knew each male in the building would be dead before he even knew there was someone in the room with him. He listened attentively but there was nothing, just the silence of death.

Then he heard a soft noise, distantly, down the corridor - the sound of shuffling. Through the door, thirty white faced, terrified and traumatised, young Asian women followed their Ghurkha guards into the room.

They watched every movement of their Ghurkha escort with horror as if panicking that they would be next to die. Each was in various stages of nudity and each had a collar around her neck.

Softly and kindly, Peter spoke to them in Thai, Malay, Tamil and then English. The message was clear. He told them they were safe and being set free but they must forget what they had seen. He requested each one to kneel in front of him in turn. With the bolt cutters, he cut through each collar as quickly as he could although he knew he was causing them physical distress.

Once he had removed all the collars, he sent them off to dress. When they returned to sit around him, he informed them he was holding their passports. Patiently, he explained that he knew they had been university students and understood that Dingo had kidnapped them before their studies had even started. Looking at their haunted faces, Peter perceived that they would need counselling before resuming their lives.

"Now perhaps you can help me," he said turning their attention to his real goal. "Where is this woman?" He pointed to Jennifer's picture with his fist.

"We don't know," answered a tall Thai. "But we do know that the boss's son will be brutalising her. He calls it love but he's a pig and she'll take days to heal after he's used her. The doctor comes on Wednesday so Jennifer will be back then as she is to be prepared for a long sea trip."

"The doctor?" Peter sounded puzzled.

The Thai girl took his hand and led him down the corridor and into the kitchen. She swung a cupboard away from the wall and pointed to a flight of steps leading down. She shuddered and absolutely refused to lead the way downstairs.

"Help me please Andrew," Peter called.

Distressed at what he believed could be happening to his sister, Andrew was at the point of exploding. He was stunned -- appalled that Peter could remain so calm and so focused.

"Steel yourself," said Peter. "We don't know what we'll find down here." He didn't need Andrew to do anything foolish.

Hesitantly the two descended and found themselves in a small operating theatre. On the walls hung pictures of before and after procedures where the doctor had inserted nipple and clit rings.

Sickened, they returned to the main room. Peter saw the Ghurkhas lined up against the wall, waiting. He noticed they had re-sheathed their khukuris and not one of them had nicked themselves.

"Ladies, you all speak English. You're going to a motel where we've arranged to look after you. The men there will treat you with dignity. You have thrown off the mantle of this place and soon you'll return to normality. You are free!"

"But sir, we have no money." Still worried, the tall Thai girl interrupted. "Have we swapped one master for another?"

The Ghurkhas started laughing and the RSM stepped forward. "You know we are Ghurkhas and we treat women with respect. Don't be frightened by my men or me. We'll never harm you. What happened here today was repayment to people who hurt our friends. Those men deserved to die. You however have earned the right to live. This man, who has spoken, honors you all and you owe him nothing."

Peter took over again with a huge smile making his words warmer than ever. "You needn't worry about money. Dingo has donated a large amount to your education and probably has given enough to set you up in life. All we demand is that you forget our part in your deliverance and keep your mouths firmly shut about today."

Eventually Joe, Andrew and two Ghurkhas loaded the coach and left with the tearful girls sitting quietly, wondering where they were being taken next.

"Come on let's explore." Peter said, once the coach had departed.

Leaving the remaining Ghurkhas in the main room, the RSM and Peter went reconnoitring. A naked male body occupied the first room, a bedroom. The Ghurkha, who had found him, had slit his throat. Then he had removed the man's penis and testicles. These, he had stuffed in the dead man's mouth. Hanging behind the door was the uniform of a very senior police officer.

The next bedroom told the same story and it seemed as though two very senior police officers were clients of the brothel. In four other bedrooms were men who had met their fate in a similar fashion. When he completed his inspection, Peter had counted 10 bodies and held their wallets in his hands.

Eventually Peter and his men were standing outside a door that firmly refused to budge, obviously the door of the office for the brothel. Undeterred, the Ghurkhas laughed at the futility of the locked wooden door. Three put their shoulders against the door and gave a tremendous shove. Suddenly there was a crash and the door hung uselessly on its hinges.

Peter rushed into the office and proceeded to check out the furniture and equipment in the room. Security monitors filled one wall, each one focused on a different room. Another wall was full of DVDs all catalogued by date while another was full of DVDs listed by each girl's name. Amongst those DVDs, Peter saw Big Red mentioned.

A Ghurkha breached the writing desk and Peter saw ledger after ledger stacked inside the drawers. Each ledger listed payments to various men and payments by clients who used the girls, what services were supplied, the times and dates of their visits and the medical repairs needed to patch up girls after the men left.

Whoever set up the computers knew nothing about security or perhaps wasn't worried. The hard disks contained files with videos from the security monitors of clients with the girls.

On the desk lay an appointment book showing future bookings for the various girls against clients' names. It was an extensive dossier on Ding's crime world.

Ruefully, Peter noted that the next booking for Jennifer was 2pm Wednesday and was astonished to see the name of a prominent church dignitary against that booking. He clenched his fists and the fury in his eyes made it apparent that he intended being present at that booking.

Still studying the appointments, Peter was sitting at the wooden desk when a shout called him to the back of the building.

This back room was so cold he shivered. The wall in front of him looked like a bank of wide deep drawers. He pulled on one drawer and it slid towards him in a well-oiled movement. Peter recoiled when the lifeless eyes of a corpse stared up at him. Evidently, this was Dingo's own morgue where he stored bodies before disposing of them.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 28



As he examined the new discovery, Peter thanked the absent Dingo as he'd not only mapped the path to his own destruction but had given Peter material to use against his empire. Turning to his Ghurkhas, Peter gave an order.

"Get this place cleaned up. Bring all the bodies here and we'll use the drawers."

It was not long before each of today's clients was in its own drawer and the bedrooms showed no sign of what had happened. With arms full of DVDs, books, videos and diaries they left, even returning to collect the computers and monitors. They completely stripped the office of all its records.

After a final inspection, Peter and his men moved through the front door. He didn't consider it strange that a taxi immediately pulled in and he hadn't made a booking. Another followed and yet another, until they were all on their way back to the motel leaving the deserted brothel spick 'n span.

The well-oiled operation reinforced Peter's belief that Joe's network was operating well and was keeping a close watch on Dingo's party, which wouldn't be able to move without one of Joe's shadows.

In the early evening, once the workers had left, Andrew drove the coach into the workshop where he, with Joe and Peter, removed the false insignia from the coach. They worked long and hard to restore its original identity as a Mercedes Coach with the signs Blake Pastoral proudly displayed on the sides and back. Finally, Andrew reattached the original number plates.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 29



****** Sunday

The day dawned wet and dreary and the cold wind howling around the motel seemed to find its echo in Peter's soul. He spread the diaries, the ledgers, the DVDs and videos across his bed.

Breakfast had been a riot of laughter as the girls - closely guarded by Susie and Maria began to organize a shopping trip. Peter unable to deal with the hilarity returned to his room where he brooded alone.

Then his morbid silence was shattered when the girls entered the room. With their faces free of terror, their eyes sparkling and their walk so confident the girls approached. They hugged Peter and kissing his cheek. The last merely stated everyone's prayer. "She will be safe!"

Then each, with their guards carrying huge wads of Dingo's money, left in the coach with two mother hens, Susie and Maria, who were determined to guard their chickens.

Grabbing the RSM, Peter thrust a wad of extra money into his hands. "That's for Susie, Maria and James."

Hours later, at the end of the business day, Peter had his head down, studying the ledgers and making notes when Joe burst into the room.

"Our mates in Bathurst have delivered the trailer and god it stinks! Basically, the cattle must do nothing more than piddle and cack. The clever buggers must hold it for weeks. Quite stomach turning it is. Now explain your plan."

Later, once the workers had left at the end of the day, the two of them backed the trailer into the workshop and unhitched the prime mover, which drove away. Joe firmly closed the shutters and the workshop was in cold gloom.

In the motel dining room, that evening the girls gave the men a show, displaying their new purchases. Peter sat back and considered that if the breakfast was a festivity what was this? Every girl paraded in her new finery to the tunes from the public address and they actually glowed with their makeup and new clothes. The men had made a catwalk of tables and clapped each one as they paraded.

When the girls eventually finished the parade, the men began to chant, "More, more, more, more, more," much to the women's amazement. Then Joe and Bill grabbed Susie and Maria hustling them out amidst much laughter led by the girls.

Bill returned to introduce the two women who played up as they pranced and minced their way down the catwalk to hoots of laughter and catcalls from the men.

The parade ended and a little Malay girl took the microphone from Bill. " Tuan-tuan dan Puan-puan! Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm speaking for all of us when I say to you that God must be smiling tonight that such people have rescued us from terror. Here we are, well fed, happy, extremely well dressed, each with our own laptops and buckets of programs, and pockets full of money."

When her words faltered, the RSM showed that he was human after all as he joined her and held her against his broad chest while she wept. Slowly she looked around the room before continuing.

"Each night we all prayed that an end would come to our misery but never once did we believe this would be the end. You've told us we are travelling away to the protection of Andrew and his extended family at Blake Pastoral.

"Peter," she stepped down off the catwalk and walked to him. She held his hands in hers. "We'll be praying that your lovely wife who supported us while she was part of the misery will be returned to you. We also pray that death does not come quickly to the monsters that held us, who sold us and who tortured us."

She turned to Susie and Maria. "We thank you. Now we know we have two Australian mothers. We are especially thankful for your advice in our purchases today and we know that although we're leaving tonight we'll be back another time."

Andrew parked the coach at the entrance then supervised the loading of expensive luggage. Peter gave a wry smile as he noted the number of iPods and laptops that girls carried as they clambered aboard. The girls did not miss a single man as they gave everyone a kiss.

The Ghurkhas were most embarrassed at the public display of affection, breaking into Nepali and teasing one another, threatening to tell each other's wives about their girl friends. Those staying behind gave much good-humored advice to the four who were to act as escorts for the girls and when the RSM also swung aboard, the few outside the coach swamped him with more instructions that were supposedly helpful.

"Take the direct route, Andrew, don't go back through Bathurst. You'll have to tell your parents about what's happening. Don't go far from a phone. God willing, I'll be bringing a load of cattle down on perhaps Wednesday or Thursday. Drive safely."

Andrew was too busy with the traffic to spot the two cars manned by Ghurkhas following him. Peter was leaving nothing to chance.

Joe and Peter made their way to the workshop and began their work. By sunrise, a false floor, in the livestock trailer, was complete. As Peter straightened his aching back, he chuckled.

"Wonder how our guests will enjoy their prison transport to Victoria?"

****** Monday

The newspapers openly reported that two police officers were attending a court hearing into police corruption. Realizing that the two named featured prominently in Dingo's journals, Peter grimly smiled as he made his lethal preparations.

At midday, a man in an expensive, immaculate, business suit and carrying an attaché case with a camera slung around his neck made his way to the foyer of the Law Courts in Phillip Street where he sat waiting. No one even noticed when this well-dressed grey haired businessman stood. An elevator opened and the two police officers stepped out.

What was so unusual when the man dropped to one knee to tie his shoelace?

One police officer seemed to trip then the second collapsed face down in the foyer. Why would anyone report that the grey haired man had disappeared camera, attaché case and all?

The evening news officially disclosed the fact that two senior police officers who had appeared at the Investigation into Police Corruption were dead. A highly skilled assassin had been busy in the Law Courts in broad daylight. Again, police could find no clues except that the weapon used was the favorite choice of hit men.

On the second page was a report that a prominent church leader suspected of being involved in the crime world had committed suicide.

When a member of the Chinese contingent overheard Peter, trying to book a flight to Hong Kong the Chinese forced him to cut short his call. Two Tamils stood at the door while two Chinese urged Peter to the conference table.

"Now tell us what's going on. We've been very patient but we flew down here to help and you really haven't used our various talents very well. Our boss isn't happy that he can't repay a little of what he owes. You've been locked up in that room, brooding, so now explain."

Silently, Peter returned to his room and picked up the ledgers before returning to lay the books before them. He didn't need to read the data aloud to his Chinese friends.

As they read silently, they were not impressed. One Chinese pointed at the politician's name. The records showed the repairs the doctor had made after he used Jennifer for his sexual gratification.

A burst of wild laughter from the Chinese shocked Peter, but the icy cold intonation of Cantonese echoing from the ceiling made him shiver. The Chinese contingent was making plans.

Then the words changed to English. "Susie, could we have a scrambled phone line please?" Peter heard the leader shout down the hallway.

The Chinese leader took the phone and, after dialling an international number, barked into the mouthpiece.

Peter needed no translator. His Cantonese was excellent and he listened attentively.

"Hmm! He's attending a State Reception, eh? Well he isn't to leave the building alive. Yes that's right," patiently Peter's Chinese guest repeated himself, "he isn't to leave the building alive. Who cares? Poisoned, shot, stabbed. I'm sure he won't care and if you can make his premature death a lingering one so much the better. He's annoyed our friend."

"Next?"

Peter knew The Little One was a cold-hearted killer but their callous attitude shocked even him as they took the ledgers and began to mark a green tick against those who had died. When a name had no tick, one of the group either a Tamil or a Chinese copied the particulars and left. Some of those who left were away a long time and others were quick to return, but Peter noted that every time anyone returned a green tick appeared against a name.

It was late and time to sleep when Peter noted that the only names without ticks were the father and son duo, of Pretty Boy and Dingo. He grinned knowing that they were his - his to teach the enjoyment of The Little One's vengeance.

****** Tuesday

A breathless and flushed Joe interrupted breakfast. "The telephonist at the Dingo's hotel is the daughter of one of the drivers and the sister of one of the lads Dingo killed. She just rang to tell me that Dingo rang the doctor ordering him to be 'there' tomorrow to prepare Red for the trip of her lifetime. Red is to be unconscious for 24 hours but when she wakes she'll be a pony among all the camels. She said the laughter of both of them was horrible."

The news impressed nobody.

Peter, aware that the last throw of the dice had fallen his way, asked Joe to ring Bathurst and to inform the yard manager of the urgency of having the Blake Pastoral Company prime mover at the workshop on Wednesday morning.

"No need to worry," the yard manager told Joe. "Tell Peter it's less than half an hour away from you in a storage yard where no one would ever look. Just give the word and it'll be there. Now when do you want it?"

Peter could hear the conversation and smiled as he noted the yard boss of the trucking company spoke in the same dialect as Joe. He just shrugged as Joe translated the casual discussion before returning to the conversation.

Peter interrupted, "Ask the Boss to organize a load of frisky, well fed steers for me to pick up on the way through please. Say Wednesday evening." He turned away and allowed Joe to continue his talk.

Laughing Joe ended the dialogue but Peter had another request. "Tonight we camouflage the van in the yard as a carpet salesman's unit. We'll need some carpet rolls in it. Can we do it?"

Joe's eyes twinkled. "Maria's family and I came from the same village. Now we stick together. Her family is the carpet seller of Sydney and I understand a van of theirs needs some repairs. Hang on"

Not twenty minutes later a carpet van rolled into the workshop. Stepping out of the van the driver waved at Joe as he rushed to another waiting vehicle -- his job complete.

They inspected the van and noted that in the back were many carpet off-cuts and a note had been left on the front seat. 'Just as well you are good a good husband to my niece, Maria. We don't need the off-cuts and they can't be traced to us.' Joe did the translation. 'Ring us Joe when the van is resprayed and repaired although you couldn't repair a hole in a sieve.'

That night the plan to rescue Jennifer was finalized and Peter was confident that Dingo's rule was ending. The turmoil in his mind of retracing the details of the rescue seeking flaws in the plan, plus the excitement that Jennifer would soon be back in his life was too much to allow him to rest.

****** Wednesday

Sitting in their carpet van at a Service Station only one block from the brothel, Peter watched the Chinese leader speaking on the phone inside the shop. The Chinese returning to Peter spoke to the cashier with a pure Australian accent, "Thanks mate, see ya." No one would suspect that this Chinese was anything but born and bred in Australia.

"Let's go. The black Mercedes is just turning into the street outside the brothel. There are two cars accompanying it. Our quarry includes six bullyboys, Dingo, Pretty Boy, Jennifer and one other. The driver assumes it's another bodyguard. The full party is one woman and nine men. Now they have parked in the street outside and have all gone into the building."

Peter parked the van behind the last car of Dingo's group. A taxi pulled up and four well-dressed Asian men alighted. They followed the two workers who alighted from the carpet van and who were carrying their bags of tools.

Dressed as a workman, Peter seemed to have a cigarette dangling from his lips. He used the raging bull key to open the door ignoring the second, the third and the fourth taxis that had stopped to unload equally well-dressed Asian men.

Leading the way into the main room of the brothel Peter came face to face with Pretty Boy and four of the bullyboys.

"You bastard, what have you fuckin' done?" Pretty Boy snarled. The 'cigarette' in Peter's mouth spewed its little dart into his neck injecting its paralysing drug. He tumbled to the floor. The bullyboys dropped like stunned mullets as Chinese hands savagely chopped into each throat sending them unconscious to the floor.

It was quick, it was noiseless and the Chinese seemed to melt away leaving Peter standing over the body of Pretty Boy.

Behind him, Peter felt the door open. When he heard a sharp intake of breath knew Dingo had arrived.

"Well, well! So Scarface supposed he could rescue his harlot wife eh?" Sneering, Dingo felt safe behind the Walter P38 from his car. "Pity you won't be making the trip with her. We sold her for a pretty penny, believe me, but you'll never see her."

In his foolishness Dingo continued, "You know you shouldn't be smoking, it's bad for your health - not that you'll be living much longer."

Dingo never knew what hit him as he crashed to the floor, paralysed, with a dart in his throat.

Peter led the way to the kitchen where two more bullyboys stood against the wall white faced and trembling.

Standing ready to garrotte their prisoners, the Tamils guarding them were fingering long silken strands looped over the prisoner's heads and around their necks. The cupboard concealing the steps was hanging haphazardly from the wall.

Peter leapt to the bottom of the short staircase with his Uzi in his hand.

The doctor and the nurse both raised their hands as two of the Chinese joined Peter.

"Take them!" said Peter, without hesitation.

Completely disregarding the fact that the nurse was a woman the Chinese beside him treated them in exactly the same way - a single blow to their throats to drop them like two stones into a pond.

"Bring the bolt cutters!" Peter bellowed up the steps. Then turning again into the room, he faced his worst fears.

Taking a step forward, he could feel the bile rising in his throat as he confronted the unconscious naked woman on the operating table. As if the end of his world had come, he struggled to recognize the person who now looked so little like his Jennifer.

The gang had cut her long red tresses short and her face was a mask of pain. The drugs the doctor had injected had made her into a zombie. She had no pubic hair and her sex was bloody. Even her thighs were blood stained. Fine silver chains joined the nipple rings to the clit ring inserted into her body and Peter started to weep.

When Peter bent to kiss her, she didn't taste like Jennifer. He whispered, "You are safe now," as he carefully manipulated the bolt cutters and removed the collar.

The sheet below her was soaked with blood.

Peter had no warning of the extent of her abuse. Frozen, he tried to comprehend her injuries. Peter felt gentle hands coming to rest on his shoulder forcing him to stand aside.

Quietly the Ghurkha surgeon from the farm consoled him. "Jennifer is my care now and she will recover." He called up the stairs in Nepali and two Ghurkhas arrived and, after carefully wrapping her in blankets, carried her to the waiting Mercedes.

Suddenly Peter realized one of his trusted Tamil friends was speaking to him.

"The carpet rolls containing our prisoners -- the bullyboys, the doctor, the nurse, Pretty Boy and Dingo are loaded in the van. It's quite an interesting load! Joe is waiting to take you with Jennifer and the surgeon in the second Mercedes. She's wrapped in blankets and is as comfortable as our surgeon can make her."

Peter was relieved to leave the brothel. He did not realize it was so late when Joe opened the workshop and the van rolled in beside the cattle trailer followed by the Mercedes.

Pushing Peter aside, the Ghurkha surgeon assumed responsibility for Jennifer's wellbeing. Peter felt relief that at last Jennifer was receiving the medical attention she so desperately needed.

While the surgeon attended to Jennifer, Joe and Peter unloaded the cargo of rolled up carpets and slid them under the false floor of the trailer but not before sealing every mouth and binding arms and legs so there could be no kicking. There would be no sounds and no movement from the prisoners. Peter could only wonder what Dingo would think when he realized his 'wife' and Pretty Boy were beside him.

The criminal doctor, the nurse and eight of Dingo's guards made up the load of a dozen captives. The rest of Dingo's associates were dead.

The Blake Pastoral truck was standing ready with the trailer hitched behind when Peter donned his overalls and his welding gloves. He wept silently when he saw the pathetic little body that was Jennifer lying unconscious on the bed behind the driver's seat. Yet he felt relieved that the Ghurkha surgeon was travelling with them.

The surgeon had taken care to make her as comfortable as possible.

"No! I need no guards with me. The surgeon and I can look after any mishaps." Peter adamantly rejected help. "I'll pick up those steers tonight and continue home. Joe, thank the taxi drivers and everyone involved. I'm most grateful. You keep your workshop going. Okay? Tell Maria she has a wonderful husband. I could never have succeeded without my friends."

No one exchanged words of farewell. None were needed as Joe hugged Peter almost crushing him in his bear-like grip. Peter swung into the cab and drove off into the traffic without a backward glance.

He was taking his wife home.

He saw a number of cars fall into place behind him and knew his friends were determined that he would arrive safely with his precious cargo, his wife.

There was no requirement for tablets tonight. There was no need for anything but food. At a trucker's café, he ordered meals for the surgeon and himself and carried them back to the cab.

He phoned Andrew telling him he was still short of Bathurst where he had to load the steers.

Andrew wasn't interested. "What about Sis?" He knew where his priorities lay.

"Oh? You mean my wife?" In spite of all that had happened, Peter couldn't help teasing her brother.

"You're a proper bastard. Where's Jennifer?"

"She's asleep on the bed behind the driver's seat - but she's in very bad shape. Give the nurse a message from the surgeon. She is to prepare the operating theatre as Jennifer is on the way and needs immediate attention. It's as though the bastards set out to destroy her as a woman.

"Oh, by the way, we have twelve guests," he continued. "Could you and Dad," the word slipped out but it felt good, "prepare some accommodation for some short term guests near the wild boar pens? They won't be staying long. How are all our other guests? 

"Tell Mum I have Jennifer and the surgeon with me. We'll be there soon, as I'll be loading the steers in about an hour's time and will drive straight down. Bye."

He didn't wait for any further questions but attacked the medium rare steak and chips when they arrived. The fried egg was excellent as was the pile of toast, and the meal contained enough energy to see them through the long journey into the night.

As they ate, all he could think of was the wretched, pitiful shell of a woman who had travelled, without moving, in the bed behind his driver's seat. His heart ached at her injuries and trauma but he knew he loved her more than ever and wanted to hold her safe from the world.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 29



The surgeon's support was comforting and Peter was grateful for his support on this long journey.

****** Thursday

At 7.30 the next morning, he rang Andrew from the truck stop closest to the farm. "I'll be there within the hour Andrew and will be driving in through the forest." Pausing, he listened to Andrew's loud complaints.

"Shut up Andrew and listen. I'm tired. Just shut the fuck up and listen." Peter paused as shouts came down the line. "Yes, I know it'll be a tight fit, but that's the road I'll use. I'll drop the passengers at the pigpens and they're yours to hold. Make certain four Ghurkhas are with you as I don't wish to chase escapees all over Victoria."

Losing patience at Andrew's interjections he rudely roared, "For God's sake, Andrew just listen! I'm not interested in your dad, your mum or you. This is my wife so we do as I say.

"No!" He almost screamed into the phone.

"Jennifer will not be in your home, not until she is checked for drugs, sexually transmitted diseases and certainly not until her body is restored.

"Look Andrew if you bloody argue I'll turn this fucking truck around now and drive back to Sydney and both Jennifer and I will disappear forever. Warn your parents I'm at the limit, the end of my tether, and will brook no arguments. I'll never risk my wife again. Is that understood?"

Obviously, Andrew was passing his terms to his parents, because there was a long pause.

"Is that understood?" Peter screamed into the phone repeating the question.

Andrew replied. "We'll carry out your wishes, Peter. Dad and I will be waiting on tractors. One of us will follow you and the other will be in front once you get to the forest in case you become stuck.

"For God's sake, take care as you've driven through the night and no matter what you assume, we all love you and Jennifer equally. Can I tell our people Jennifer is with you?"

"Yes but don't let them start celebrating yet. You've never seen a party until you've seen them let their hair down. See you soon"

The two tractors were waiting as promised. Slowly Eric led the way though the State forest while Andrew brought up the rear.

At the pigpens, they stopped and Eric stood his ground.

"Listen Peter, you are one hell of a good man but Jennifer is my daughter so I want to help you unload the human animals. Don't tell me you don't want me in trouble with the police, just don't go there. I'm going to help."

From the false tray under the steers, that bellowed and stamped their anger at being on the trailer, the three men dragged the criminals wrapped in carpet. Every one of the prisoners, soaked in urine and covered in manure, had regained consciousness. They didn't smell, they stank and Andrew led them one at a time to a small tin shed.

Chained by the neck to the wall, the nurse and the Katoey fared no better than the others. When one of the guards begged for food and a drink, Andrew drove his foot into his groin.

"Shut the fuck up! That girl was my sister and did you feed her or treat her like a human being. Say anything and I'll kill you now."

Andrew reached under his shirt and unsheathed a khukuri, then dragged the razor sharp point down the man's shirt until a thin line of blood followed the tip.

Peter was astounded as he knew Ghurkhas don't give khukuris away except to those they admire.

Leaving the prisoners with four Ghurkha guards, Peter drove the truck to the cottage hospital, refusing to allow either of Jennifer's menfolk to see her. He knew how the shock would affect them but was forced to enlist Andrew's aid to get her out of the cabin.

The surgeon insisted they followed his directions so that Jennifer's body was not further traumatised.

"Jesus, oh Christ!" Andrew's words showed his revulsion. "Those bastards! What the fuck have they done to her?"

The vehemence and the anger brought his father from the other side of the truck. Eric didn't swear. He didn't show his anger. He dropped to his knees and wept.

The surgeon called the nurse and together they placed Jennifer on the hospital gurney. Only then did Andrew and his father realize the full extent of Jennifer's injuries.

Peter knelt beside the gurney and put his lips to Jennifer's hand as it hung low. "My love you are safe now and soon, very soon, we will be out riding on the farm." 

Unable to add anything through his tears he allowed his passion to flow through his lips onto her fingers.

The surgeon assisted him to his feet and ushered him out of the room with Andrew and Eric. "We need to stabilise Jennifer in preparation for surgery tomorrow," he said.

They were standing, dazed on the verandah when the sudden scream of an engine under torment broke through their grief and a motor scooter skidded to a halt in front of them. Elizabeth had arrived and raced past them straight into the hospital. Before they could move, they heard her scream and immediately knew she had seen Jennifer.

Eric struggled to his feet and went to support his wife bringing her back outside to wait with them. White-faced, grim, shaking and sobbing, Elizabeth sat with them on the steps of the hospital awaiting the surgeon's verdict.

Hour after hour passed and none of the three seemed to notice that a guard was in position. They pecked at the food and sipped at the drinks that the nurse had brought them.

They said nothing just sat there and held each other, leaning against each other for support.

"Shit - the steers!" Peter remembered the load.

"The stockmen have looked after them and the guards have given some food and water to the prisoners," the RSM, who had been standing unnoticed with the guard, had a toothy grin. "We can't let anything happen to them before their judgement day."

It was dark and cold when the surgeon finally appeared.

"Jennifer's sleeping soundly and is in no distress now," he announced. "You can do nothing. You can achieve nothing by remaining here. Get a good night's sleep. We'll look after Jennifer."

Peter stood and marched straight past the surgeon into the ward. "Jennifer's my wife and here I stay. I won't be a nuisance but here I stay." His words were insistent.

The surgeon and the nurse left while Peter remained, kneeling on the floor with his head on Jennifer's pillow. If Jennifer made the slightest movement, he was instantly alert. When the nurse returned the next morning, he was awake still holding his beloved wife's hand.



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 30



It was late the following morning. Jennifer was lying on her back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, making no sound at all. Even when Peter spoke, it was as though she was deaf, as she didn't react. Her eyes showed no brief gleam of recognition and she didn't answer.

The surgeon ushered Peter out of the room as the nurse prepared Jennifer for surgery. On the verandah, the surgeon explained.

"Whoever did this to her needs to be brought to justice. The bastards have done extensive damage. We've x-rayed her and at least we can repair her physical body. She should be her old self after we remove the rings and we give her time to heal.

"What really worries me is her state of mind. She's acting like a zombie right now, but I won't be much help with her mental condition until we get the results of her blood tests to see what drugs they administered to her. You must rest, Peter. She won't be out of surgery until late this afternoon."

The clear sound of the small company chopper interrupted their conversation. It rose and, flying low, raced southwards.

The unexpected noise startled Peter.

Inquisitively, he raised his head to follow the chopper with his eyes.

Noticing Peter's un-stated query the surgeon explained. "Don't be shocked Peter. The chopper's gone to collect a friend, a plastic surgeon to help. By the time we're finished, as I said, she will be your Jennifer once more." With a pat on his shoulder, the surgeon turned and walked back inside.

Against the hospital fence was Peter's bike with his helmet on the seat.

Wearily he mounted it and rode to Deep Springs where Jennifer's family waited. He couldn't face returning to the building where he and Jennifer had started to build their future.

It all seemed a lifetime ago.

Riding hard and quickly, completely oblivious of his surroundings he sped into the backyard of the main house. Elizabeth flew out as if she'd been waiting for him and gently took his arm and led him into the kitchen. She sat him down and quietly spoke into the two-way radio on the bench. "He's here!"

Peter was exhausted but his mind wouldn't shut down. The events were just too catastrophic. Elizabeth's fresh hot toast didn't tempt him and he found it difficult to face his mother, knowing how he'd let her down. He had repeatedly vowed to protect and love Jennifer but had failed. 

Well yes, he loved her more than life itself. However, did he protect her? He felt now, more than ever before, that he had failed.

"Ha. What a bloody fool." He voiced his thoughts.

"Are you talking to me Peter?" Elizabeth seemed surprised.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I was thinking aloud and I was talking about myself." He sagged as if all the fight had gone out of him.

A samfoo-dressed cook removed the untouched toast and placed a small bowl of Peter's favorite food in front of him - chilies swimming in soy sauce and fish oil. Handing him chopsticks the cook barked, "Eat!"

Wearily, he shoveled the chilies into his mouth and the cook refilled the bowl.

Elizabeth placed a serving of Pho Ga before him and urged him to eat. "You have to keep going for Jennifer's sake. She's relying on you so you can't give up now. She loves you and needs you." Elizabeth was doing her best to get him out of his black mood.

Andrew and Eric arrived with newspapers, which they spread before him as they sat quietly at the table. Their gentle presence supported him.

Eventually, Andrew broke the silence. "Hey cookie, that looks good, can you do a couple of plates for Dad and me?"

Eric's calm voice made Peter scan the headlines. "You've certainly stirred up the NSW Police Force," he commented. "Even Interpol is involved. Have a careful read and look at the pictures."

CRIME SYNDICATE SMASHED

'Acting on a tip-off, Sydney Crime Squad Detectives with the Dog Squad early this morning seized two cars outside an expensive brothel in Redfern.

'It is rumoured that the notorious underworld figure Dingo Ryan runs the brothel.

'Two cadaver dogs led the police into the building where the officers found several bodies. However, the police have found no trace of any 'ladies of the night' in the brothel.

I't appears that the bad luck that has dogged Dingo Ryan has continued. Since his luxury yacht sank, his home and boatshed burnt to the ground in baffling circumstances a week ago.

'Mysteriously a dinner guest and four bodyguards all died at a function hosted by Dingo in China Town.

'Now Dingo, his son and his wife are missing. All airports are under close surveillance as police in every state are searching for them as persons of interest.

'Police suspect that the Mickey Mouse Club (an Indian Crime Gang) could be the underlying cause of Dingo's unexplained disappearance and his bad luck.

'Interpol is assisting in the on-going investigations.

'To add more confusion Interpol earlier today announced the apparent assassination of a prominent NSW politician who was attending an international conference on crime in Hong Kong.'

The three men ate in silence while Elizabeth just stood silently her hands on Peter's shoulders.

Peter continued to scan the papers with thoughts of Jennifer's recovery never far from his mind

The RSM arrived. Ignoring the silence and the sadness, he announced. "The prisoner's quarters are completed and they are housed, waiting..."

Elizabeth stiffened. She was about to ask pertinent questions but the flare in her husband's eyes forced her to remain silent as the RSM, not bothering to finish, turned and left.

The cook placed glasses of steaming fragrant Jasmine tea in front of them and the four sat around the table immersed in their thoughts. Peter broke the silence with what seemed to the others as ramblings.

"Jennifer's body is on the operating table being repaired as we sit here, but I'm terrified that her mind is not there. She seems deaf and oblivious of her surroundings. I'm scared that her mind is affected. The past weeks must have been an incredible nightmare from hell.

"She was even sitting beside one Arab when he died, though how anyone got a Fer-de-lance snake into the nightclub I'll never know."

Peter concluded with a burst of wild insane laughter showing the others how close he was to breaking point. Bloodshot and wild, his eyes seemed unable to fix on anything. His movements were erratic and he had lost control of both the tone of his voice and the volume.

Quietly Elizabeth grasped his hand and helped him stand. "You have to be strong. Jennifer needs you in this horrible time. Her need is greater than ever."

Then, holding him tightly by the arm, she walked him to Jennifer's old bedroom. He didn't struggle as she helped him into bed under the bedclothes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she smoothed his forehead as he collapsed into fitful sleep.

Unable to sleep soundly with memories of his wife haunting him, he tossed and turned. He could smell Jennifer, he could feel her softness, he could... Carefully he opened one eye then the other and he groaned his misery, as he slowly comprehended where he was. Suddenly he realized he was cuddling one of Jennifer's nighties but she wasn't wearing it.

Elizabeth must have been close by because suddenly she was cradling his head and whispering to him. "Jennifer is through the operation and the surgeon is very pleased. She's in intensive care and will be back in the ward in two hours so you've plenty of time to shower, shave, eat and become the handsome young husband she knows.

"Take your time and just stroll down to the dining room. We've three very special guests who are anxious to see the hero. Now up and dress. See you soon." The eternal mother swept out of the room.

Standing in the dining room sipping wine were the Blake Pastoral Surgeon, his erstwhile nurse and full time wife, and a stranger, another Ghurkha.

Rudely ignoring the stranger, Peter bombarded the surgeon with his questions "How's Jennifer? When can I see her? Why is the nurse here and not with her patient?"

The surgeon quietly answered, "Jennifer came through the operation well but will be sleeping for hours. The nurse is here, yes, but we have more than one nurse. Jennifer is in safe hands."

Around the dinner table, the Ghurkhas turned the discussion to Blake Pastoral and future plans. The stranger, a Plastic Surgeon, broached the subject of extending the cottage hospital so that he could use its facilities.

Noting that the family did not immediately rebuff his proposal, the Plastic Surgeon quietly suggested that a trauma counsellor become part of the team adding that the local children, the security, the wildlife, the birds, the families, everything would help in patients' recovery.

"Lord knows the other girls, also affected by this traumatic experience, will need all the counselling and support we can offer as well." His gentle words reflected the depth of his professional training.

The family noted that under the circumstances the Board would look upon the request favorably. Elizabeth suggested that the specialist draft an interim proposal and present it to the Board for immediate consideration.

Still unable to put his mind to such matters, with his thoughts constantly on Jennifer, Peter ignored everyone and everything as he stared at a blank wall.

"Major!" The RSM had arrived. "Your wife is back in the ward."

Leaping to his feet, Peter raced out to find his bike where he had left it. The distance to Jennifer's bedside was shrinking every time he traversed the route.

Standing beside her bed as he watched over her, he sensed that the problems had not ended.

"Jennifer, I..." His voice dropped into a deep silence. That pitiful, pain wracked body with the red hair, that rescued whore, lay flat on her back. Her lifeless green eyes were open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, but she was deaf to his words and oblivious of his presence.

"Jennifer, I love you but I failed you." Sliding his arm under her pillow, he cuddled her into his neck but still there was no reaction. His tears flowed profusely.

This scene greeted the surgeons as they entered the room. One helped him to his feet and led him to the consulting room where they sat, forcing him to listen.

"We've repaired her body but we cannot repair her mind. That's something only you, a trauma counsellor and her family can do."

"It'll take patience and love, but the repairs can be done. They will be successful because of the love around her. The people who did this should pay. Have you notified the law?"

The scornful look of hostility that surfaced on Peter's face frightened both surgeons despite their Ghurkha heritage.

"Oh, they'll pay!" His eyes blazed reflecting the passionate vehemence of his voice. "They will pay and they'll dwell in hell for eternity, and there'll be no official law involved. Oh, yes," he chuckled, "they lived outside the law and will die outside the law. I will be applying to them the same law they lived by."

Returning to Jennifer, he sat holding her hand and stroking her cheek. He didn't hear the whirr of the chopper as it left with the visiting surgeon on board.

Days lengthened into weeks and every hour in the ward Peter sat with Jennifer trying to break into her mind. He talked, and read to her but to no avail until at last, defeated, he realized his Jennifer was now a comatose body. The only change was that her hair had grown longer and her fragrance had returned.

When he bent to kiss the patient, her skin was soft and sweet. Her eyes were the wonderful pools of green in which he delighted to bathe but her brain just didn't want to acknowledge the world. It was Jennifer's body, yet it was not his Jennifer.

Every night Andrew collected him from the hospital. When they arrived at the house, the cook rushed to serve the evening meal.

There was not much discussion at the dining table once Peter had reported, "There's still no change."

The moment the meal ended Peter rose and made his way to Jennifer's bedroom where he spent the night trying to sleep with her nightie in his arms.

The fire had gone from Jennifer's eyes and the joy of living had gone from Peter's life.

The family was fearful. Jennifer's lack of response terrified them but Peter's slow downhill slide into dark depression was so noticeable that they were just as troubled by his actions.

Then, one morning, at breakfast Peter accepted a phone call from Joe. After a long period of listening attentively, Peter replied that he would be at the workshop at lunchtime the following day.

The family became agitated when he related the gist of Joe's phone call saying Joe had warned him that detectives had repeatedly called, demanding to know his whereabouts. He insisted that he alone would return to answer the police questions.

Extremely unhappy, they felt divided in their loyalty to Jennifer and their desire to assist Peter. He refused their offers of assistance saying Jennifer needed their loving support.

However, he had to accept their insistence that he take four bodyguards with him and use one of the company cars.

When the question of his return to Jennifer arose, he wept as he explained how much he loved her but was at his wits' end on how to break through the barrier. He admitted how close he was to a complete breakdown until Andrew dragged him to his feet and stood toe to toe with him glaring and demanding that he not walk away from Jennifer.

"Peter, you bastard. You pride yourself on being The Little One yet you're prepared to walk away from the person who has handed her life to you. Jennifer may be," Andrew was almost choking on his emotions as he glanced at Elizabeth's pale face, "unwell but she is yours. I distinctly heard you swear 'in sickness and in health'!"

Peter wept as he gripped his brothers shoulders. "I'm not abandoning Jennifer. No, bloody way! I'm returning to Sydney to guarantee there are no repercussions for you all, for Blake Pastoral or any of my 'little army' who helped me rescue Jennifer."

The remainder of the morning, he spent sitting with Jennifer, occasionally bending low to hug and kiss her as, although she was deaf to his words and oblivious of his presence, he explained why he would be missing for a few days and impressing on her that he loved her more than ever.

That same night he, with his four bodyguards, drove to Sydney.

It was almost midday the next day when a familiar voice rang across the workshop. "Can't a man get a car repaired here?"

The clamour of the workshop instantly died. There was an unearthly silence suddenly ripped apart by the uproar of voices welcoming Peter.

Eventually, he was able to speak confidentially with Joe on the footpath. The look on Peter's face when Joe asked about Jennifer was enough to warn Joe that this wasn't the time to ask.

Rudely ignoring the question regarding Jennifer and totally unable to answer civilly, Peter began planning for the police questioning.

Recovering from the shock of seeing Peter's unwillingness to discuss his wife, Joe listened to Peter's plans before commenting. "You really are a sneaky bugger, Peter. Of course, I can get that news crew who filmed our day on the harbor.

"They will be delighted to help. Only last week they called to tell me that a taxi driver visited the studio and handed them envelopes containing large cash amounts with the one word note 'Thanks'. The driver wouldn't reveal where the envelopes came from and well, I can only guess and say, Peter -- you are most generous.

"Yes I have some Italian reporter friends who would love to sit in on your meeting with the police. They believe there is so much corruption in the police service thanks to Dingo they will be delighted to get a scoop.

"Now the Police. They have approached no one -- you are the focus of investigations. I agree about being careful with their interviews so as soon as they appear I will immediately take the steps you suggest." Studying Peter's gaunt face, he sympathised with Peter's intense strain. "I'll ring Maria and then book a table for five at the Motel. The five will be Maria, Susie, Bill, you and I." Seeing Peter's eyes cloud with emotion, he added. "We need to fatten you up. Can't have anyone think we don't look after you."

Unable to face the apartment where he had shared so many happy hours and unwilling to live in the rooms above the workshop Peter strolled up the hill to the Motel.

"Peter! You're back! How's Jennifer?" Susie was bubbling with happiness. Peter's black look of despair didn't stop her, as she demanded to know what had happened to cause his thunderous looks.

Begrudgingly, he explained Jennifer's mental state as he signed the register for three rooms. His bodyguards would be staying with him, as hiss had demanded.

Susie wasn't impressed. "The Little One has given up, eh? I told you to fight. What happened when the battle became too difficult? You fled. You really are nothing more than a self-centerd wimp."

Her disgust was obvious as she stormed to the door. "And I asked you to be my baby's god-father. I must have been having a touch of senile decay." Angrily she threw the words back over her shoulder as she disappeared. The arrow of hurt hit Peter but he was unable to feel anymore pain.

Peter and his escort made their way to their rooms but Susie didn't reappear to ruffle his feathers.

Over dinner that night, Bill showed why he had been a Commander in the Royal Australian Navy. "Should the detectives question you about the sinking of The Pony Stable or the mysterious fire aboard the Arab's aircraft you are to send for me. I'll soon put a flea in their ear and they won't ask again."

Noticing Peter's attempt to refuse his help Bill said nothing but later pulled Joe aside to reinforce his ideas. "Keep a close ear on the proceedings and call me if they ask about our naval expedition," and he rocked with laughter.

Once the dining room was empty of guests, unbidden, Peter's bodyguards stationed themselves at the doors. Then Maria and Susie ganged up on Peter refusing to accept his surly answers when they mentioned Jennifer's health. Ignoring his anguished looks, they demanded a complete report on her mental and physical health and refused to accept short answers. They didn't rest until Peter was an emotional wreck. Weeping, he gave them all the information they needed.

Only then did they sit, one on each side of him, supporting him in his anguish.

Early the next morning, three detectives walked into the workshop office demanding to see Peter. They didn't notice Joe moving into the workshop where he reached for a phone.

"Mr. O'Brien, we have a few questions we need to ask you."

Wearily, Peter struggled to his feet and politely suggested that the workshop office was not the place for such business. He refused to go to the police station with them unless they were arresting him and instead led them to the dining room of the motel.

Four Ghurkhas, with their blades concealed, escorted them. The senior detective expressed his surprise until Peter explained that since the explosion he went no-where without his personal bodyguards.

As well, he had tightened all security. The workshop, the BMW Dealership, the Lexus Dealership and the motel were under guard 24/7. Indeed, he had strengthened the security for the whole block with ex-British and ex-Australian Army personnel.

Perplexed one asked, "Why all that security, Mr. O'Brien? Isn't that a trifle excessive?"

Peter withered him with a look of absolute disgust. "Someone tried to kill me by blowing up my workshop. You dare say I am being excessive! Really, I'm surprised by your childish innocence. What do you really expect me to do? Wait for the next attack? Or has the NSW Police Service already arrested the people who made the attempt on my life?"

Red faced and embarassed the detective stumbled over his excuse. "What I really meant... Isn't security for the whole block excessive? Even the crèche and Pre-school at the back of the block are under constant security."




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 30



"I own the lot and I will decide what is excessive!" Peter's blunt answer stopped further discussion as the detectives meekly followed Peter into the Motel Dining Room.

The moment they saw the room set up with TV cameras and lights, they tried to evade the interview but four Ghurkhas barred their exit.

"Mr. O'Brien, the news crew is unnecessary. We'll interview you when they have finished!"

"Oh no you won't!" Peter's voice had the tone of a man in authority who intended controlling the meeting. "The meeting is here, now and with both TV and reporters present. I've not the faintest idea why you are questioning me when I am the victim of a failed assassination attempt but sit down gentlemen and let's get this interview started."

Nonplussed by Peter's attitude, the detectives began stuttering their way through their questions.

Peter assumed his inscrutable mask of the east and when the senior detective asked about his day on the harbor, Peter merely nodded and one Ghurkha left the room.

Slowly Peter stood and drawled, "Listen mate! Am I under suspicion of committing some crime? A free, innocent man whose workshop was blown up in an attempt to kill him is not allowed a day on the harbor without questioning by three detectives." He turned to the reporters.

"Am I speaking slowly enough for your note taking?"

Neither of the reporters replied, merely holding up their recorders.

"Do I need to speak louder for the cameras?"

One audio man from the news crew merely gave the thumbs up but the arrival of the Commander who made an impressive entrance halted any further questioning.

"Who are you and what right have you to be in here?" The senior detective was irate at the interruption. It was difficult enough under the glare of the lights of the TV cameras and the attendance of reporters. Now this interruption seemed the last straw!

"I am retired Commander Bill Williams Ex-RAN and I have arrived to stand with my friend, Peter O'Brien. I believe that you want to question Peter about his day on the harbor.

"Peter was with me that day and yes we followed The Pony Stable downstream. We were in the same bay as The Pony Stable when the boat sank and a police launch rescued a well-known criminal and his party. That is a statement of fact.

"How it sank and why it sank is beyond your powers of questioning gentlemen as it is a naval matter and should you pursue your enquiries, ASIO will be informed and you will all end up doing the beat in Bourke. That is no threat that is a warning that you have no right to be questioning Peter about his day's relief from the stress of business.

"Did you get all that on film and on your recorders?" Brutally businesslike, Bill waited for the detective's reaction.

One detective didn't get the message and turned to Peter, "A number of men and women on that boat were rescued. They disappeared after their rescue and no one has seen them since. Mr. O'Brien can you explain this?"

Bill roared with laughter. "My god! Now NSW detectives are asking a businessman to do their work.

"Did you get that piece of footage?" Bill directed his question to the TV crew. A thumbs up showed they were successful.

"So let me see if I have got this straight. A police launch rescues Mr. Big of crime and his male associates after his boat strangely springs a leak and sinks. The water police, at the same time, rescue a number of women. Now everyone is missing. My god, talk about Constable Plod. You have the hide to question Peter about the missing people.

"Look! Some common sense here wouldn't go astray. I respectfully suggest you try questioning Santa Claus. Perhaps he is wrapping the whores as presents for good little policemen." Bill's disgust at their ineptitude was obvious.

"Commander," the senior detective interjected, "your facetious comments are not helping any. We need to get some information. We suggest you leave."

"Officer, if I leave then so do you, the camera crew, Peter and the reporters. The meeting will recommence in Fleet Headquarters, Sydney. Shall I ring for a naval escort now?" Bill stared at the detective until the detective looked away.

"Mr. O'Brien! Can you explain your presence in the company of a large number of Asians?" The senior officer resumed the questioning.

Peter forced himself to smile as he stood. Standing at attention, he barked an order in Nepali to the amazement of the detectives. One guard left and soon marched back into the room and threw Peter a salute that Peter returned. He then handed Peter the registration book from the motel office.

Peter flicked through the pages until he found the two registrations -- one in Tamil the other in Mandarin. "Those are the registrations of engineers and accountants from two well known international companies. One has its head office in Singapore and the other has its head office in Malaysia.

"Before you ask, they were here to meet me as the representative of Blake Pastoral which is working with two universities and the Commonwealth Government to develop water harvesting and green power. That is all you need know. Anything further is confidential, commercial information.

"The registration is written by me and anything further about my history is available through ASIO but I will add that I am Major Peter O'Brien of the 6th Brigade of Ghurkhas. That should stop your worries about my guards and the language I used.

"If there are no further questions I might remind you that both the Commander and I have businesses to run but perhaps you would like some hospitality before you leave." His face revealed nothing as he signalled and one bodyguard left.

Within minutes, Susie entered, followed by the chef who set up a morning tea table. Susie's presence seemed to relax the detectives especially when the news crew and the reporters left and they were no longer under a microscope.

Weeks dawdled past and Peter still couldn't free his mind of Jennifer. He loved her and missed her but he couldn't torture himself by being with the lifeless body, which was once his warm, vibrant, happy wife.

His health was a shadow of its former vigour. As he shaved, he could hardly recognize the gaunt face and bleary eyes that faced him in the mirror.

Bob and Ted had long since stopped enquiring about Jennifer and no longer asked him to join them for a beer or a game of tennis. He'd become a loner once again and his heart was slowly breaking into a thousand pieces.

As the days passed, he ceased worrying about a return visit from the police. Yet he still would not return to the farm in case something cropped up with the police investigation. He spent his days working in the workshop.

Then his life changed.

"Someone on the phone," Mark called Peter to the office, "said it was the RSM."

Reluctantly Peter took the call. "Peter speaking."

"Major, something strange occurred here this morning and I have to apologize as it was my fault. I was so angry and I just didn't think. Jennifer's family was with her in the ward when I burst in and said 'That bastard, Dingo, is repeatedly demanding to be set free along with his people.'

"Jennifer struggled to sit up, and then leaning against her mother for support she looked straight at me. She shrieked as best she could, 'Kill him. He murdered, Peter. I want him dead.'

"Then she started to sob, 'If only my friend could learn to fly this would all be over.'

"The surgeon has taken this as a major breakthrough and has ordered a strict regime of physiotherapy for her. He would like to keep her in hospital for at least another two days. The family are disappointed as they feel she would be better off at home with all that is familiar around her but the surgeon has insisted she stay.

"Elizabeth is fussing over her daughter, dressing her in her own clothes and encouraging her to use her makeup. All Jennifer does is cry and mutter, 'He murdered, Peter. Kill him.' No matter how many times we assure her that you're alive, she just replies, 'He murdered my Peter. Kill him.'

"Hang on, here's Andrew."

Andrew, true to form didn't waste words. "Peter, you miserable bastard get down here at once and help Sis. You ran. Get back here, Jennifer needs you urgently. She believes you're dead."

Ignoring the insults, Peter was calm as he asked for more details, "The RSM said something about learning to fly..."

"Yes," was the quick reply. "And that's what's so strange. When we question her all we get is gabble about jungle, old man, a snake bracelet and learning to fly."

Musing over the information but knowing he had the key to unlock the puzzle, Peter chatted on completely disregarding the urgency in Andrew's voice.

"She's talking of suicide!"

"Put a 24/7 suicide watch on her, two women and one Ghurkha." Peter didn't sound the least sympathetic.

Andrew's angry voice shouted through the handpiece but Peter ignored him. "No Andrew, that's not possible. I can't get down there as quickly as that. First, I have to follow Jennifer's directions and teach a friend to fly."

Ignoring Andrew's swearing and anger, he continued. "I'll be there when I can. It may be a week. It may be two weeks and talk of coming after me with a shotgun is stupid. My love for Jennifer has never wavered and she's dearer to me than life itself. I'll be there with our friend and together we'll convince her that I am alive.

"As for Dingo and company, I'll set them free. The night we arrive the 'Angel of Death' will arrive with us and that same night they will dwell in hell. My mind hasn't altered one bit on that.

"I'll be disappearing for a while and the next time you hear from me will be when I ring to say lay out the red carpet your brother is arriving."

Unable to take anymore insulting threats, he hung up.

Two days later Peter made his way through the Kuala Lumpur International Airport. "Selamat Malam." Peter's fluent Malay surprised the Immigration Officer.

Within minutes, he was eating with his taxi driver at a wayside makan stall before booking at a Malay non-tourist hotel. He immediately changed into the local dress. His intention of merging into the crowd wearing brown contact lens and speaking with his impeccable Malay accent certainly helped.

Settled in his hotel room he immediately made a phone call to the airport arranging for early morning helicopter transport.

With all his business well underway, he could at last give way to his feelings. Wrapped in nothing more than a sarong he flung himself on the bed and wept. The last time he was in Malaysia, he'd been so happy and so proud. This time?

He cried himself to sleep.

A Muezzin was calling the Faithful to Prayers as he made his way to the helicopter pad at the domestic terminal. Soon he was in the air and swinging away northwards towards the Cameron Highlands.

The small chopper had barely landed in the same jungle clearing of his honeymoon when he was out and running.

With his sarong flapping around his legs and his shirt sticky in the heat, he hurried. His sandals were less than helpful in the ooze of the jungle floor but still he pressed on. He knew his every movement was under scrutiny so he removed his shirt. No sooner had he slung it over his shoulder than Orang Kanaq surrounded him. He was home!

Along the muddy track, up an incline, down a slope and across a creek they wended their way chattering furiously. They led him to the village and sat him at the communal fire.

"So Peter, what took you so long to get here? At last, Jennifer gave you the message and you are here to teach me to fly." Cackling, the old man of the jungle continued, "Notice I'm speaking English, as I need practice and I'm a bit rusty. Now let's go, the pilot will be worried. No, I have no luggage. I fly lightly."

He was still babbling when they arrived at the chopper.

They passed the next few days waiting for seats to Sydney and purchasing Matt Selah, European, clothing for this strange jungle man.

In Sydney when they hailed a taxi, the Old Man of the Jungle easily passed the taxi driver's scrutiny especially when he started talking cricket.

In Peter's spacious penthouse, Jennifer's gold gown that she wore to the Hunters Hill party along with her diamante sandals lay undisturbed with the note on their bed.

"Hmm," mused the Old Man, "so that is what she was wearing and I would say she would have looked extremely beautiful. Pack those clothes and shoes as well." Knowing Peter was unwilling to move them, the old man added, "I'm in charge, Peter, so do as you're told for once." The wise old man stared at Peter until he dropped his eyes and then did as bid.

"We'll take the clothes with us if you can book flights for tomorrow evening." For a jungle man he had plenty of shrewdness about the modern world.

"Along with the clothes we'll deliver this note from us," and he dictated a note for Peter to write.

"We'll take Jennifer's letter as well. You'll need to remind her of her promise." Smiling, he ignored Peter's embarrassment, and continued, "We'll also set up everything for Friday night when your Jennifer will return to you."



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 31



Three weeks had passed without any further contact from Peter. His lack of communication confused Jennifer's family. They wondered if he would ever return.

In her familiar surroundings, Jennifer was recovering, but without Peter's presence, she was unable to accept that he was alive. To avoid the possibility of upsetting Jennifer, Elizabeth, Eric and Andrew could only talk of Peter when she was not present. 

Then things seemed to change, when early one morning the RSM handed Elizabeth a written note with a parcel. Hoping to bring the mystery of Peter's absence to a satisfactory conclusion Elizabeth promised that she would follow the instructions.

With Jennifer, Elizabeth opened the parcel containing the gold gown and diamante shoes Jennifer was wearing at the Hunters Hill mansion where all the trouble began.

Recollections of dressing and modelling for Peter were prevalent in Jennifer's mind. She remembered Peter's eyes, his playful comments, and that she felt glamorous.

The family sat down to their Friday breakfast with a pale Jennifer who had cried herself out yet again. It was the usual sad meal with Eric and Andrew seething at Peter's cold-blooded desertion of their daughter and sister. They could hardly be civil.

The RSM arrived, interrupting the meal. He asked them to dress for a special evening and they were to be ready to leave at eight. A car would collect them.

With no knowledge of what the events of evening would bring, Eric and Andrew could only growl in reply.

The moment Jennifer left the room Elizabeth stood and moved to go with her. Then the RSM took Elizabeth by the arm and quietly added. "I have to warn you that tonight's events will be most distressing and you will hear of some atrocities that were committed. You will learn the horror of her plight while Dingo held her captive. Will you be able to cope? The evening's success will depend on your ability to cope and support Jennifer.

"The night will end on a joyous note which will please us all." Without waiting for Elizabeth's reply, the RSM turned to leave.

Elizabeth grasped his arm and quietly questioned him. "We will cope with the evening but there is something that concerns us. We know Peter, you and your men fought together in Malaysia but why are you involved now and why are so many of your men involved?"

Quite taken aback by the question that showed so little knowledge of his culture, the RSM studied Elizabeth's face. Then grinning broadly the RSM replied, "This is family." Elizabeth instantly understood -- he was now talking her language.

The RSM continued, "Peter is more than a comrade in arms he is part of our family. He is one of the bravest men I have ever known and he was prepared to give up his life to protect us. Peter called us for assistance and it wasn't until a few months ago that we realized how significant was the danger for him and Jennifer."

"When one of us is hurting or in danger we all support and fight together. It is the way of the Ghurkha.

"I can only feel sorry for Dingo and his followers. They picked one of our women, Jennifer." He patted Elizabeth's hand. "To do that is to cast a slur on the Ghurkhas and there can only be one outcome. Now they must face the consequences of their stupidity."

Showing that in spite of his gruff military bearing, he was kind hearted. "Stop worrying! Tonight is the end of a very difficult period." Then he was gone.

Elizabeth left to follow her daughter upstairs while the men pondered over what the evening was to bring.

Although accustomed to farm life Eric and Andrew feared that the evening would end in a bloodbath. Neither dared discuss their fears with the other. Eric was troubled that Elizabeth would not cope despite her words of assurance.

Jennifer allowed her mother to dress her. Making no effort to help, she was completely disinterested even when her mother applied her make-up and did her hair. In contrast to the last evening she wore those clothes, tonight she felt neither glamorous nor special.

The men were standing at the bottom of the staircase when the women appeared on the landing. Seeing Jennifer dressed in her gown Eric realizing what he had lost - one beautiful daughter - almost sobbed. 

Andrew placed a hand on his father's shoulder to give him comfort but he was also trying to find strength to cope with the loss of his sister's vitality for life.

Armed Ghurkhas in their uniforms stood at the car and the RSM saluted the party as it emerged from the house. Walking slowly before the car he led the way to the shearing shed where rolled out before them was a red carpet.

Completely perplexed, the silent party entered the transformed shearing shed. Black sheeting hung from the ceiling and spotlights focused on the middle of the free space. In the center of the shed, was a 44-gallon drum cut lengthways. Supported on bricks it contained a blazing fire although the night was quite warm. Behind the fire was a table on which rested a laptop and a projector.

Prominently positioned against one wall were four straight-backed chairs. The RSM led the family to these seats.

Elizabeth, Eric, Andrew and Jennifer surveyed the shed. They were quite surprised to see the girls from the brothel seated around the other walls. Strangely, Jennifer felt comforted by the presence of the girls who had become her friends since living on the property. Elizabeth felt uncomfortable that Jennifer had been dressed in her gown and now looked completely out of place.

Yet, the family was perplexed, as they had no inkling as to why the Ghurkhas had brought everyone to the shearing shed.

Once the new arrivals sat, the RSM stood in the middle of the floor and began an explanation of the planned evening's events. "Tonight we, as a court, try a number of criminals. We will try to prove they have committed atrocities on innocent individuals. The girls, freed from the brothel, and Jennifer will be prosecution witnesses and will identify the perpetrators of the offences against them."

"It will be a long night for some and a very short night for others."

The family cringed. They knew that the RSM was effectively telling them the prisoners would be dead before sunrise.

"Guards, bring the first batch of prisoners!"

They heard the words, "Kedee, kedar, kedee, kedar, kedee," and four Ghurkhas with khukuris prominently displayed, hanging from their belts marched into the room with the four bullyboys captured at the brothel.

Jennifer jumped to her feet and rushed towards the captives. When she reached the tallest and largest of the four she screeched into his face "You bastard! You raped me repeatedly. Not once did you listen to my pleas for mercy. You were the ringleader!"

"Why didn't you dress like this at the Raging Bull? You really would have turned us on." Stupidly he leered and leant over to stare down her cleavage.

Before anyone could react, she kneed him in the groin.

Pandemonium broke out but neither the guards nor the prisoners made a sound or moved. Cheers from the girls rang from the ceiling. Elizabeth rushed to Jennifer's side and as quick as lightning punched the guard as he crouched in agony. Guards immediately encircled Jennifer and Elizabeth and guided them back to their seats where other Ghurkhas were restraining Eric and Andrew.

When the confusion ebbed, Eric softly asked the RSM why that bullyboy had his right hand wrapped in bandages and a blood stained bag was hanging from his neck.

Expressionless the RSM pointed out the young baby-faced Ghurkha standing beside the bullyboy. "The prisoner believed that being so big and white he was superior. He thought he could escape from the teenage lad guarding him. What a frightful error of judgement! My man may be short and he may look a teenager but that bullyboy found out why he was a guard. In the bag around the prisoner's neck are his fingers. Since that moment, no prisoner has tried to escape."

The RSM turned away from Eric and faced the family. However, it was obvious he was addressing the four bullyboys.

Elizabeth went ashen and her stomach heaved.

"We are here tonight for the trial of the prisoners. The prosecution needs to identify each prisoner and state the reason why that prisoner should not live. Each prisoner will have a chance to state his or her own case but..." he turned to the prisoners, "be warned. We have DVD evidence to reinforce the prosecution's case.

"You are here to face the young women who are charging each of you with crimes against them. You will submit your defense in these matters. However, you will not lie, as your lies will bring swift retribution. I am again formally warning you that we have DVDs and written evidence to back the claims of your victims. If the crimes are as horrendous as the prosecution alleges the plea for mercy becomes superfluous. No one in this building will listen to any pleas for mercy.

"Jennifer has made the first charge. Now we will hear the other young women's charges."

Each young woman stood and told of her multiple rapes by the four guards and of their inhuman treatment of her.

Ashen at their stories, Elizabeth gripped Jennifer's hands trying to show her daughter that at last she understood everything that had happened to her.

Growling softly, Andrew leaned towards his father. "The bastards! Let me just get them into the slaughter pens and I'll make certain they never rape again."

However, Eric was busy and really didn't hear his son. He had his arm across his wife's shoulders trying to console her.

"We've heard the charges. Does any one of you wish to make a statement in his defense?"

The leader of the group lumbered to his feet and holding his injured hand carefully, glared at the women. Then turning to Jennifer he grunted, "All lies, all lies, all your statements are fairytales. Everything happened because you wanted it to happen. Look how you are dressed!"

Shouting and shaking his fingerless hand at Jennifer he ranted, "And tell me that you are not enticing every man here. You, Big Red couldn't get enough of us..."

Andrew's roar drowned his further comments. "You bastard, you..." and, with his body contorted in rage, he leapt to his feet. Two Ghurkhas forced him back down to his seat and, with hands on his shoulders, restrained him from attacking the bullyboy.

The women's screams of denial and their yells demanding justice went unheeded.

Making no comment, the RSM merely grunted an order in Nepali. Then, as he commenced speaking to the bullyboys, one guard lowered a screen from the roof while another started the projector linked to the lap top on the table and commenced the DVD.

"Is that your defense? You did nothing that the women didn't desire. Do you others agree that these women were willing to accept you as lovers?"

"Of course, he's right. We wouldn't harm them. They wanted..." The words agreeing with the leader's comments seemed to pile one on the other in a confused babble until the RSM gave a nod and the screen sprang into life with scene after scene of the four bullyboys raping various girls, ignoring their pleas for mercy, their terrified screams and their struggles.

The Blake family was extremely distressed.

"Enough," shouted Andrew while Eric just held Elizabeth's head against his chest trying to blot out the sight and sounds. Staring at the screen, Jennifer sat nodding her head agreeing with the accusations her friends had made against these men.

The screen faded into blackness and the sounds died away. In the silence that followed the RSM ordered a guard to give Elizabeth, Eric and Andrew paper and pens. 

"I am asking you to write either 'Guilty' or 'Not Guilty' and to hand the paper to my man. You three were not attacked or physically assaulted by any of the prisoners so you are our judges tonight." 

As if expecting a refusal, he waited quietly but the family quickly completed their task and the guard handed their judgements to him.

"The verdict is unanimous. Guilty!" That one word rang out like a bugle call. "Remove their shirts."

The flash of four kukris startled the Blakes and Andrew stared open mouthed at the single thin line of blood appearing on each of the four bullyboys chests as their shirts fell open.

Whimpering and shaking with fear, the four screamed, begging for mercy.

Ignoring their pleas and disregarding their struggles the guards, obeying the cold, blunt order, "Take them away!" dragged them from the shed.

"Bring in the next prisoners."

Again, the shearing shed echoed with the marching cadence of the Ghurkhas as three guards escorted the Katoey, the nurse and the doctor to the center of the floor.

Elizabeth rose out of her seat and gasped remarking, "There are two women!"

"Women?" A little Malay girl darted to Elizabeth. "The tall one is a Thai Katoey -- a transvestite whose favorite hobby was to force us to accept her bull mastiff as a lover. The other pretends to be a nurse but in the operating theatre delighted in torturing us. The so-called doctor attached our body rings without any use of anaesthetics. He also took pleasure in raping us and torturing our bodies."

Elizabeth turned to Jennifer who nodded her agreement with the Malay's statements. Surprised at the Malay's words and aghast at Jennifer's confirmation Elizabeth sank back into her seat, almost unable to comprehend that women could be the source of such indignities and atrocities that Jennifer and the other girls had endured.

"You have heard what was said to the four previous prisoners so I will not repeat myself. We'll not waste time calling for anymore accusations. Have you any comments to make?" The RSM seemed loathe to mention the new prisoner's crimes.

The Katoey stepped forward. "It's all lies - lies I tell you. I have done nothing wrong."

Unable to control her anger, Jennifer leapt to her feet and purposefully moved to stand in front of the Katoey. "You did nothing? You did nothing?" and her voice rose to a scream. "You have a funny idea of what nothing means. You choked us until we knelt and submitted to your weird needs to witness bestiality or we were unconscious. It was either submit or risk death.

The Katoey tried to back away from Jennifer but the point of a khukuri in her back stooped her movement.

A nod from the RSM was his only response.

The screen again became alive with action and the shed filled once more with piteous screams and heartrending pleas for mercy.

"Turn it off, turn it off!" The Katoey's shrill voice demanded as she admitted her guilt but then, in her defense, she added that Dingo had insisted that she do it.

The RSM withered her with a look of intense loathing and scorn.

"No girl will be asked to testify as you have pleaded guilty. Bring the other two forward.

"You, nurse, are a lesbian who forced your unwelcome attentions on various girls. You also encouraged the Doctor to rape the girls before and after attaching their nipple and clit rings. You took delight in their fear and their agony. Are you about to tell us of your innocence and have us show your activities on the screen?

The nurse didn't reply.

"Your silence is taken as an admission of guilt." The RSM was remorseless as he quickly moved on trying to bring the evening to an end. He knew Elizabeth and Eric were at their wit's end.

"Bring the Doctor forward." The moment the guard urged the doctor forward at the point of his khukuri the RSM continued. "Our surgeon has informed us your cruelty knew no bounds and you are a disgrace to your profession. We have DVD evidence of your crimes. Do you wish to view and hear the evidence? We believe the bodies in your own little morgue were the result of your callous attitude to life. We will present the evidence if required. How do you plead?"

Disdainfully the doctor looked around the room. "Your surgeon dares tell me I am no doctor? He is a surgeon from what third rate Asian university where education is a matter of attending a semester's lectures. As for cruelty, that's a figment of the imagination. I..."

Furious but holding his emotions in check the RSM held up his hand and stopped the litany of arrogance. "This fool thinks the training in the Royal College of Surgeons, Edinburgh is inferior to his education. Anything else to say, Doctor?

"Whatever was done was at Dingo's insistence. Therefore, none of us is guilty of any crime. Your problem is with Dingo."

Snarling the RSM replied. "Obviously you did not listen earlier when I said such an excuse was unacceptable. Not once on any DVD we have studied does Dingo order any one of you to commit the atrocities you so enjoyed inflicting on the girls."

His next words were so icy and so frightening, Elizabeth took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to control her thoughts. "Remove his shirt, remove the blouses from the other two."

Three fine lines of blood followed the swift flick of three kukris and three pieces of clothing fell from the prisoners' shoulders. The guards led three crying, snivelling wretches out of the shed.

"Bring the remaining prisoners!" The RSM seemed intent on hastening the end of the proceedings.

Even at the point of a khukuri, Dingo and Pretty Boy arrogantly strolled into the arena.

Jennifer leapt to her feet and pointing at Dingo, shrieked, "Kill him! He had Peter murdered!" Then, indicating Pretty Boy, she screamed, "Kill him too! He murdered Peter. He boasted that he'd done it!" With flashing eyes and clenched fists, barely able to keep still, she failed to control her anger.

The shearing shed erupted once again. The girls shouted at Jennifer "Peter's not dead. He rescued us. He's not dead. Jennifer, wake up! Peter's alive."

In her confusion, Jennifer began to realize that perhaps they were right but her mind refused to accept that he was alive. Where is he? She looked around at her mother, father and brother seeking an answer but they had none to offer.

Surprisingly, Elizabeth, Eric and Andrew remained seated, appearing calm although clinging to each other as if in shock unable to speak. They were concerned for their daughter and sister and the long-term effect all this would have on her if Peter did not appear this very night.

The RSM quietly restored order and Jennifer's angry outburst died away. There was silence except for her quiet sobs.

Suddenly in the distance, they heard the drone of chopper blades. The noise became louder and louder until the shearing shed shook with the heavy beating whirr of the chopper's blades. It was obvious the chopper had landed nearby.

"He's here, he's learned to fly." Jennifer sprang to her feet, shouting. Again, the RSM moved quickly. He patiently and kindly seated her.

He turned away from Jennifer and no one noticed him scatter a handful of powder into the fire that immediately exploded into wild flames. To protect their eyes, everyone turned away from the fierce glare. When they turned back long tendrils of white smoke swirled to the ceiling and the shed filled with acrid smoke.

This white haze slowly cleared leaving a spicy odour.

Andrew was the first to react to the pungent aroma. He looked about trying to see if the shed was on fire.

It was quite some time before anyone noticed the wizened old man sitting cross-legged on the floor at the far side of the fire. He looked completely out of place with tribal markings on his face and chest. Around his hips, he was wearing a sarong.

Slowly, ignoring the heat he reached across the flames extending his right hand towards Jennifer with his palm, facing the floor. He flexed his fingers in the "Come here" Asian fashion.

Almost sleepwalking, Jennifer rose and moved to kneel opposite the old man who tossed more powder into the fire, which suddenly blazed again, sending more clouds of smoke billowing to the ceiling before dieing away. A sickly sweet smell filled the shearing shed.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 31



Beginning a singsong chant, he stared into Jennifer's eyes. They did not falter before his gaze. The chant went on and on, gathering in volume and intensity until suddenly, he stopped.

No one moved.

In the deathly silence that followed, Jennifer could feel the chant hammering into her brain.

Then, softly he spoke breaking the silence. His cultured Oxford English accent stunned Jennifer's family as much as it had shocked her back in the jungle. Her parents were dumbfounded especially as his appearance belied his education.

"Jennifer, the gods are pleased. You have paid them in full and you never once forgot your love for Peter. I promised you that your trial would finish when I learned to fly.

"Well," with a triumphant smile he added, "I learned to fly and your trial is now over, never to be repeated."

"What a fairy story." Pretty Boy spoke up. "Come here bitch and kneel and do what you've been taught to do. Then release us and if you're quick, the punishment will be speedy and not prolonged. Your husband couldn't do for you what I did, so get busy and pleasure me in front of your family," and the cruel demeaning words tumbled from his lips.

The family rose as one. The hatred in Jennifer's eyes boded ill for Pretty Boy as she leapt to her feet. The RSM stepped between them.

"Don't dirty your hands with this filth. He and his friends are ours." His grim smile and the tone of his voice sent shivers up everyone's spine except for Pretty Boy who opened his mouth to continue.

No one saw the RSM unsheathe his khukuri but everyone heard the sharp loud crack as the butt of the handle smashed into Pretty Boy's jaw. He wiped the blade of the khukuri across Pretty Boy's bloody lips.

Pretty Boy's jaw had been broken and he spat teeth onto the floor.

"Don't ever speak to our little Mem that way again!" The RSM advised him. "She's a lady and not for scum like you."

Elizabeth's hands flew to her mouth and she gulped. Eric and Andrew reeled back at the speed of the RSM's reaction and the punishment. Jennifer's joy at the retribution handed out to Pretty Boy immediately drew their attention.

"Is that the type of pleasure you were talking about?" For the first time in months she was actually laughing. "You were always keen to hand out pain, are you so keen now to accept it?"

A soft voice of authority calmed the mayhem, "Jennifer, I have something for you. Remember in the jungle I gave you..." and in his right hand the old man held out his section of her incomplete serpent bracelet. "I told you when you needed me I would give you this." He held out his left hand and Jennifer removed her half of the bracelet and put it in his outstretched palm.

After closely studying both halves, he again ignored the heat of the fire, leaning across and handing her both sections of the bracelet. "Put them together Jennifer, wear the bracelet forever and your trial is over." Closing his eyes, the old man resumed his chanting.

She studied them as if trying to remember the past events of her day in the jungle. Slowly, she intertwined one bracelet to the other. An inner calm and strength seemed to flow through her body, as she slid the completed bracelet onto her wrist. She looked at the old man with tears of relief in her eyes.

A cackle from the direction of the fire took her attention. "You were saying Peter is dead? Is he now? What, this scum kill Peter? I really don't think so. Jennifer, come around here and kneel beside me." He waited for her to settle beside him before continuing. "Now stare into the fire and concentrate on your husband. He's been patiently waiting for this moment for a long, long time." The old man again threw a handful of powder onto the fire and sweet perfumed smoke filled the shearing shed.

On her knees and staring silently into the fire, Jennifer waited patiently for the old man to speak again. Then slowly she became aware of the warmth of a presence beside her and looked up. Shocked, yet overjoyed, she staggered to her feet as she recognized Peter in his Major's uniform flanked by Ghurkhas standing beside him.

Screaming, "Peter!" She flung herself into his arms.

Pretty Boy tore his arms loose from his guards then gurgled through his broken jaw, "You're so brave with your toy soldiers. Are you brave enough to face me without their assistance?"

Peter barked an order and the guards fell back against the wall dragging Dingo with them.

Andrew shivered as he heard Peter's words to the family. "Everyone stay still. This fool is mine." Horrified by the vehemence of the words the family remained silent.

Gently Peter passed Jennifer to the RSM.

Believing that Peter would be no match for his street brawling tactics Pretty Boy, lunged. Peter did not seem to move. In fact, all he did was laugh as he seized Pretty Boy's fist. With a quick wrench, he bent the wrist back with one hand, then chopped at the wrist with the other.

A shriek of pain met the sound of the sudden smack and Pretty Boy, unbelieving, looked down at his right hand dangling uselessly from the end of his arm. Peter had smashed his wrist.

Peter said nothing but reached for Pretty Boy's left arm and repeated the treatment.

Pretty Boy was ashen and his eyes were rolling in torment but Peter still had more punishment for this criminal who had used Jennifer so cruelly.

In agony, Pretty Boy sank to the floor.

Not content with the damage he had inflicted Peter delivered a second series of chops. He crushed both ankles and Pretty Boy passed out from the pain.

Loud whimpers from Elizabeth showed her horror at the apparent cruelty.

Eric enfolded her in his arms. "This sadistic bastard was the main cause of Jennifer's horrendous problems. Nothing is cruel when dealing with him," he quietly reminded her.

Unaware of the night's forthcoming events Andrew could only wish, he was handing out the punishment. His anger at seeing Jennifer's tormentors at such close quarters was almost too much to bear.

Still being constrained by the RSM, Jennifer struggled to assist Peter to destroy this man who had ruled her life in the past weeks.

At a nod from Peter, one of the guards threw a bucket of cold water over Pretty Boy who lay staring into the hatred in Peter's eyes. "Not so brave now eh, stupid? I thought you wanted to fight me. On the other hand, is inflicting pain on women more your style? No matter!" Peter taunted Pretty Boy as he stood over him.

"What did I say to you the night you drugged Jennifer at the party then danced with her at the edge of the pool? I threw you in the pool and warned you that anyone who touched Jennifer was a dead man. I told you what would happen and you didn't listen. Well, tonight I hope you and your friends are ready to enjoy your sojourn in hell."

A loud gasp from Jennifer at these revelations reminded Peter that she was unaware of all the events of that evening in Hunters Hill.

Peter grunted an order.

The RSM returned Jennifer to Peter's arms before assuming command of the proceedings. "Dingo and Pretty Boy, you are both guilty by virtue of the crimes committed by your underlings. We have hours of DVDs, which prove your guilt. Have you anything to say?"

Pretty Boy could only groan in agony and arrogantly Dingo spat, "Who are you to say I'm guilty?"

"Take them away. We've heard enough!" The RSM had lost his patience.

Ignoring the moans of Pretty Boy the Ghurkhas under the command of the RSM dragged the two prisoners from the room. The last to leave was Dingo whose foul diatribe died away when he felt a naked blade touch his throat and heard a whisper of "Silence".

Holding Jennifer tightly against him Peter turned to her family. "I don't believe any of you should witness the rest of the night unless you have a stomach for death. I consider your place is with Jennifer and with my dear friend here. I'll return in an hour or so, and I'm ensuring her wishes are carried out."

Carefully he transferred his special love to the arm of her father, lightly kissing her and promising to return quickly. "Perhaps when I return to the house tonight The Little One will rest in peace forever."

"One moment!" Andrew's voice was shaking with emotion, halting Peter's progress. "Dad, you go with Mum, Jennifer and this wonderful friend of Peter's. Me? I demand I go with you Peter. It's my sister this scum tried to destroy."

Seeing the look of denial on Peter's face he shouted, "No! No argument! I want these people dead as much as you do."



Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 32



Ignoring Elizabeth's horrified reaction Peter, Andrew and the guards dragging the prisoners made their way to one of the farm trucks where the guards unceremoniously dumped all the prisoners in the back oblivious of the screams of agony from Pretty Boy.

With the prisoners secured in the truck Peter, Andrew and the Ghurkhas changed into rags under the shearing shed. 

Khukuris were still prominent.

Standing to one side, Peter and the RSM quietly reaffirmed the strategy for the remainder of the night. They had to ensure that the plans included the destruction of the truck and all evidence of the evening's activities.

The RSM with his Ghurkhas were to obliterate the DVDs showing the crimes and the laptop from the shearing shed. They were to leave nothing whatsoever to link the events of this night with the disappearance of Dingo and his cronies.

The bright light of the full moon was sufficient to guide them to the far end of the farm where the prisoners were to meet their fate.

At the specially constructed pigpens for the wild boars, the truck halted. The prisoners were unloaded and forced to stand with their backs to the truck facing the pens. Moaning and cursing, Pretty Boy lay on the ground unable to stand on his two broken ankles.

"We won't ask for any last requests." Cold and emotionless, Peter was most methodical in his manner. "Pretty Boy, you sure have a big mouth and a small brain. I really have something special for you tonight that the others will be able to watch and enjoy."

"You boast that Jennifer loved your penis and what it did for her. So you're telling me your penis is your prized possession, are you? What about your face? Now I'll be as generous to you as you were to Jennifer." He bellowed an order.

Two guards immediately dragged Pretty Boy inside the pigpen where others tied him to the fence rails with a rope around his stomach leaving his hands dangling.

"Strip him."

The two guards unsheathed their khukuris and Pretty Boy screamed in fear. They laughed at the pool of urine and excrement that flowed to puddle around his feet.

The tips of the khukuris sliced though his clothing drawing blood with every slash. By the time Pretty Boy was naked, his body was covered in little streams of dripping blood from a thousand nicks and he was moaning with the renewed pain.

Fear and agony replaced the insults and curses he'd directed at Peter.

"Hand me the molasses." Peter's order was cold and calculating.

One of the guards handed Peter a huge pot of the molasses used on the farm for the production of Riverina sheep nuts - cubed, compressed biscuits made of chopped alfalfa, chopped hay and molasses. Using the spade standing in the molasses, Peter liberally coated Pretty Boy's face leaving his eyes, nose and mouth free.

"You're so vain you thought women were yours because you're so pretty, eh? We have some ravenous females here, and very soon, they'll be very interested in enjoying your penis."

Peter's voice was as cold as ice and Pretty Boy stared at him terrified at what was to come.

When Peter had liberally coated Pretty Boy's penis and testicles, it was clear that Jennifer's torturer had something real to fear. Casually, Peter climbed to sit with the others on the topmost rails.

"Anything to say, Pretty Boy? How's your penis now. Still willing to flash it and believe it's just the answer to a maiden's prayer?" he teased.

"Remember the death of your Arab friends? Well their death was speedy. I warned you that anyone who touched Jennifer was a dead man walking. You aren't walking and will never walk again. You're as good as dead."

"Fuck off!" Pretty Boy spat the words from his bloodied, toothless mouth. "You and your toy soldiers don't frighten me. Send Red here and watch how a real man looks after his whore." To the bitter end, Pretty Boy showed his innate stupidity.

Andrew had demanded to accompany Peter but now, at the sight of this contemptuous man, still willing to degrade his sister, he suddenly felt ill. He looked away trying to quell the turmoil in his stomach. Then he heard Peter's words.

"You really are stupid. You've learned nothing. Okay! Open the gate."

Suffering from starvation and driven mad by the smell of the molasses in the air a wild boar, proudly holding its tusks high, skidded through the mud into the pen. It slid to a stop in front of Pretty Boy and began to snuffle at his molasses-coated genitals.

Ignoring the agony, Pretty Boy tried to defend his sex organs by slapping at the boar with his hands even though they hung uselessly from his destroyed wrists but the boar, undeterred and enraged by Pretty Boy's antics, drove his tusks into the captive's belly. Pretty Boy's entrails splattered to the ground.

There was a high-pitched scream and with his wrists, Pretty Boy tried to gather his innards to stuff them back through the huge gash at the same time trying to defend himself even more energetically. His hands didn't seem to follow the commands of his nerves and the boar just ignored his futile efforts.

Unfortunately, in trying to defend his genitals, Pretty Boy dropped his head so the boar smelt the molasses on his face. It began licking and chewing on his nose and cheeks. Another scream longer and even more high pitched soon became a dreadful, bloodcurdling screech that stretched out to a gurgle as the boar ripped Pretty Boy's tongue from his mouth.

Andrew threw up.

Tiring of the game, the boar returned to the genitals ripping them from Pretty Boy's body and tearing chunks of flesh from his groin. Blood gushed from his femoral artery, and, as they watched, Pretty Boy's heart pumped the last of his life from between his legs.

Given the nod by Peter, a Ghurkha slashed the ropes that bound the body that was once Pretty Boy so that it fell motionless, face down, on the muddy floor of the pen. As another Ghurkha opened the gate to allow three sows and their piglets to enter the pen, Peter climbed down to pour molasses over the body encouraging them to eat.

The smell of death and the grunting of the starving pigs were too much.

Again, Andrew threw up. Vomiting continuously, he clung to the top rail until his stomach convulsed into a hard ball with nothing left to give.

Horrified he watched one Ghurkha gleefully collecting money from the others.

Noticing Andrew's querying look, Peter said, "Don't worry about them, they'd bet on two flies crawling up a wall. At the moment they are betting on how long these scum take to die or how many pleas they make asking for mercy."

With hands over his ears, his legs trembling, Andrew turned to Peter. "Christ Peter, why are you so cruel?"

Peter remarked to the Ghurkha guards, "Keep the other prisoners quiet." 

Then, refusing to answer Andrew's question, Peter grabbed his arm and dragged him to the truck where he stood looking at a laptop screen.

Placing earphones on Andrew's head Peter bent to the keyboard and inserted a DVD. As Andrew watched, mesmerised, scream after scream of piteous sobbing, begging for mercy, filled his head.

"You were told to stay behind but you insisted on accompanying me." Peter's words were cruel and set in ice.

"Now listen, watch and then ask me why. Just dare ask me why! What you saw in the shearing shed was a sanitised version of what you are about to see."

"Tonight you leave your boyhood behind or forever remain an ineffectual brother to your sister. Either stand up as a man, or join the boys playing marbles in the schoolyard. You can't have it both ways."

Again, Peter bent over the keyboard.

Yet again, the sounds of piteous screams and begging filled Andrew's ears. "My husband! Peter will..."

Pretty Boy answered Jennifer's distress with insane laughter. "Dingo ordered the death of your husband and I killed him. Yes, your soon-to-be lover killed your husband."

Andrew watched Pretty Boy rip the clothes from his sister then release his phallus.

"Oh please, no, no please don't! You're tearing me." The sounds of Jennifer's terror and the pitiless chortling of Pretty Boy filled Andrew's ears.

Andrew could not drag his eyes away from the screen as he watched the video of Jennifer as Pretty Boy mounted her. Repeatedly he ripped into her body until her mouth, vagina and anus were bleeding and she had collapsed from the pain.

"For God's sake, Peter! Turn the bloody thing off! I've seen enough."

Peter ignored Andrew's request. That DVD clip finished and another began.

Naked, Jennifer was kneeling on a floor and she was tearing at the collar around her neck, trying to get her breath.

"Kneel and put your hands on the floor. Offer you body to my little pet!"

The camera swept to the wife of Dingo, the Katoey, who was holding a huge Bull Mastiff by the collar.

When Jennifer did as commanded the pressure of the collar was relaxed and the huge dog, "Enough! Peter, for Christ sake, that's enough." 

Andrew was distraught. "For God's sake stop. Stop the bloody thing, now. I've seen more than enough." Andrew snapped. "They're worse than animals. I'll kill them for what they've done. What were they thinking? That's my sister for Christ's sake. Take me back now! No death is painful enough for what they did!"

Peter reached out and took Andrew by the arm. Kindly he explained, "One more clip and then we return to our prisoners. Bear with me!" He was determined to prove that his vengeance was just.

The third clip started.

The remaining prisoners in their uniforms as security guards stood around a terrified Jennifer hanging by the wrists from a low beam. Dingo giggled and chortled as he encouraged the others to strip.

Like a pride of lions around their recent kill, they ignored Jennifer's piteous wails and her begging for mercy as they lowered her to the concrete floor.

Then each man raped her. At first, they took her one at a time but Dingo called a halt when three remained. He gave an order and the men changed positions, the three guards approaching Jennifer as a team. The rape that followed was of an entirely different nature.

As Andrew watched the screen, he saw one man take his sister in the anus and another in the vagina until Dingo insisted they make her airtight. A third guard forced his penis so deeply into her mouth that she seemed to be choking.

"Enough!" Andrew begged, slinging his earphones to the floor of the cab. "Jesus, Peter! Enough is enough. I'll kill each of them. My poor bloody sister."

Stony-faced, Peter switched off the display and turned to his brother.

"For months I've been through Dingo's collection of DVDs and finances seeking clues and all the while you and your parents were attacking me for not caring about Jennifer. The sights, you've seen tonight, are nothing compared with what I've seen and had to live with for months. How could I share these scenes with your parents?

"I had to keep all this information to myself yet your demands crushed me. Moreover, your threats hurt. What was I to do? I was between a cleft stick and a hard place, but I was determined to arrive where we are tonight. I've had to go through hundreds of clips by myself and you've only seen three tiny segments.

"How the fuck do you think I feel about all this? Sure as hell I'm not laughing. The bastards have taken me back to the horrors and humiliation of my childhood with all its misery. I believed The Little One had disappeared. Now he's back and frankly, I don't like the terrible feelings that have returned with him.

"The woman in those clips is my dearly loved wife. Those animals had her in their power and they didn't care what they did to her. Well, tonight they pay for their sins and a horrific payment I'm going to exact." Peter's eyes flashed with a deep-seated anger, yet at the same time, he was sad that these monsters had resurrected his demon, The Little One.

"Tonight the 'Angel of Death' is collecting each of our prisoners," he said. "If you've no stomach for what is coming, you're welcome to join your parents and Jennifer.

"Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's is tonight's theme and for this exercise I'm Caesar. Vengeance is Mine sayeth The Lord and for what is to happen, I'm His Handmaiden. All our prisoners will be dwelling in Hell tonight and I'll be back to hold my Jennifer within the hour."

Wheeling around, Peter stormed away from the truck.

He was surprised when Andrew ran after him and grabbed his arm. Hauling Peter around to face him, he spoke what was on his mind.

"Well, my brother, tonight there are two Caesars. This Caesar demands the death penalty. I've no compunction, no Christian charity no turning of the other cheek, nothing but the utmost desire to wreak my vengeance on them. No method of killing them could ever be payment for what they've done."

Inside the pigsty, Dingo was furious at his imprisonment and abandoned for so long, but the other prisoners were more realistic, moaning and begging forgiveness.

Peter ignored them and called out, "Bring three of Dingo's guards."

"No!" he added in tones that were more sinister. "Andrew and I believe that ladies should go before gentlemen. Bring the nurse and the Katoey. I think we'll add the doctor as well."

Peter wasted no time when the three were standing before him. "Well doctor, you pierced nipples and clits and you were preparing Jennifer for a long sea voyage. How many of those bodies in your morgue were the result of your actions?"

The night air resounded with the disdainful hoots of the Ghurkha guards as the Doctor dropped to his knees to beg for his life. With a few words, some of the guards handed money to one who appeared to be holding the stake.

"Oh, don't beg and grovel. It's far too late for that," he snapped. "Put them in the second pen! Strip them."

Again, the steel of khukuris flashed in the moonlight and again blood flowed from numerous nicks. The three prisoners stood naked their bodies covered in a fine sheen of blood.

Andrew was astounded that the beautiful Katoey was a transvestite with male genitals and he fully expected these three to suffer the same ignominious end as Pretty Boy. He was curious when Peter patiently explained that they were going to form a Siamese Knot, reminding the three they would live while they remained motionless.

Peter sat the nurse and the Katoey in the mud and then sat the doctor against the nurse, between her legs. Satisfied with their seating positions and rejecting their pleas, he then began to knot the three criminals together in a maze of intertwined arms, legs, heads and torsos.

As he completed the knot, he explained. "Doctor, you're in the 'Traitor's Position'. We'll see if you suffer the most."

"You," Peter explained to the nurse, "are in the Lone Victim's position" as he forced her legs as far apart as possible. Peter called the Katoey the Joined Victim and again patiently explained they would live while they didn't move.

The doctor tried to ease his aching legs but the chiling screeches of his two fellow prisoners made him relax. For quite some time the three remained motionless.

Peter, tired of waiting, roared an order and a Ghurkha drove some piglets into the pen.

The nurse screamed and thoughtlessly tried to move from the snuffling snouts. The doctor shrieked with the pain and suddenly his head dropped. The noise stopped immediately.

The Siamese Knot tightened. The arms and legs of the three in the knot, fighting for freedom had strangled him. Struggling, the two women, with their wails of agony cut short, died with him.

Guards poured molasses over the motionless bodies. Two boars, their sows and piglets rushed into the pen to feed.

Emotionless Peter began to stroll back to Dingo. "Strip him. Free him." Khukuris flashed in the moonlight and Dingo was naked. Like Pretty Boy, his body was sweating blood from all the nicks where the Ghurkhas had sliced his clothes free from his body.

Bleeding profusely, Dingo was looking for any way out. Almost by chance, he noticed his revolver on a post. Too desperate to be wary, it took no more than a quick snatch to regain its possession, and he stood there, grinning, once more in control. He was a strange sight -- naked and bloodied yet holding the gun. The grin was momentary.

"You bastard, you've killed my son." He barked as his eyes narrowed. With drool dripping from the corners of his mouth like some rabid dog, he growled a curse at Peter.

Levelling the gun at his target across the clearing, he lovingly squeezed the trigger.

The gun exploded and Dingo groaned staring at the remains of his hand as he fell to the ground. The booby-trap, set so long ago in the workshop, had blown his right hand apart.

"Bring the tar." Peter's reaction was cold blooded.

A guard sprang forward and, to staunch the bleeding, forced Dingo's hand into the boiling tar from the shearing shed.

Dingo's angonised screeches seemed to echo from the trees of the nearby forest.

Never before had Andrew witnessed such torment.

He was speechless. He found it impossible to equate this cold, calculating killer with his brother, who was so passionately in love with his sister. Even without asking, Andrew knew that Peter had carefully orchestrated this pantomime with the revolver for Dingo's benefit.

A Ghurkha threw a bucket of water over Dingo and dragged him to his feet.

Peter reminded Dingo, "You ordered not only Red, as you called her, but all the girls to be pierced. Now we'll see how you like it."

Two guards held him while one held out his penis. Peter took an ear tagging punch, used on the farm to attach a plastic identification tag to either sheep or cattle, and drove one tag through the head. His shrieks cut through the night air.

Andrew had steeled his nerve so he could help Peter avenge all these atrocities, but the sight of this torture put a quick end to his self-control. As he turned away to throw up yet again, he heard Peter's sardonic comment behind him.

"Hurt did it Dingo? How many girls took this treatment at your orders?"

Dingo was breathless and speechless, doubled up and moaning in agony. The pain was excruciating.

Peter drove another and yet another ear tag into Dingo's penis until he crumpled to the ground. With a snarl, Peter threw another bucket of cold water over him.

"Hurting eh, Dingo? Now for the taxi drivers you had killed. I believe you used a baseball bat and beat the young kids to death. That's all they were - young kids."

Peter nodded and a Ghurkha swung a baseball bat into Dingo's knees. The first blow crushed one knee then a second blow crushed the other. No one took any notice of his pleas for mercy.

"By the way, thanks for the money and bullion you donated to the girls' education, the girls you pushed into your brothels. Very kind of you, you piece of vermin." Peter reached for his khukuri and as it flashed, he bent low to castrate Dingo with one slice.

Andrew's stomach heaved again. It was all too much for him.

However, there was nothing left to bring up. Feeling dizzy, he struggled to keep his balance, and as he clung to the rails of the pen, he remembered the screams of his sister and could only feel satisfied that the crimes against her had earned a just reward. He was amazed that no longer did he want to vomit and the terrible retribution seemed just. In fact, he felt pleased that Peter was judge, jury and executioner.

"Put him in the pigpen." Peter continued his orders and waited before adding. "Kill him!"

The RSM stepped forward, his khukuri glinting. One flash of the blade sent Dingo's head rolling on the ground. As the head rolled free, Dingo's body shivered and shook with blood pumping from the severed neck. It was such a gory sight that even Andrew, accustomed to butchering cattle, sheep, pigs, fowls, ducks, geese and turkeys was compelled to turn away.




Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 32



Ignoring Andrew's reaction, Peter turned to the remaining prisoners.

"Now what do I do with you?" They begged, they pleaded and they prayed but Peter ignored their entreaties. "I saw the clip where you were laughing as you made Jennifer airtight - three, four, five! You even attempted six at a time, eh? You heroes!"

"Well Andrew," he sighed turning to his brother. "I believe we now make them watertight, as I've no intention of making them airtight."

He noted Andrew's shocked stance. "Andrew you still seem distressed. Would you like to leave?"

Seeing Andrew's vehement nod of denial, Peter turned back to the prisoners and continued in the same emotionless voice. "You bastards ignored her screams as you all raped my wife. You ignored her blood and her agony so now you pay the piper for that most energetic little jig you danced. Take them. Strip them."

Yet again khukuris flashed and like a miracle, their clothes dropped away despite the pleading for mercy. The guards dragged them the only surviving prisoners and tied them to the pigpen rails.

Blood dripped from them as Peter grasped plastic ties and sheep rings, used to castrate animals, to loop around each penis and around each set of testicles. Grinning evilly, Peter pulled the ties tight until each of Dingo's bullyboys was groaning at the loss of circulation.

"I believe they're thirsty," were Peter's words.

One Ghurkha held his prisoner's mouth open while another Ghurkha forced water down his throat until his belly bulged. Each prisoner received the same treatment.

"Give them more water. They still seem thirsty." Peter was still not satisfied.

"Yes, my friends, you raped my wife repeatedly until she completely lost use of her body and even then you continued. You're now watertight. Within the hour, your bladder will explode, and your kidneys will break down. Enjoy hell."

Grimly, he turned away knowing his Ghurkha friends would finish the evening for him with all signs of the night's events removed. All human remains would be ground and combined with molasses and lucerne into Riverina sheep nuts for the stock. In the next week, those same sheep nuts would become fertiliser around the paddocks.

The executioners would destroy the truck, the holding sheds for the prisoners, their clothes and belongings along with the DVDs, laptops and the rags. The concrete foundations for the water recycling plant would cover any further evidence of the evening. 

"Come Andrew, we've some entertaining to do at the house. You don't look well. Ah yes, I suppose it's been a shock to you. Remember, I lived amidst scenes like this for the first sixteen or so years of my life.

"No matter what way they died at my hands, nothing, just nothing would ever be payment enough for what they did.

"Come on, smile. Your sister's waiting for us and she looked so beautiful tonight." He put an arm around Andrew's shoulder. "Brother, forget tonight. We both know The Little One has gone, never to return and we can all smile. Now to make certain my own sweet, darling Jennifer is back.

"Apply your sixth sense. How's your twin feeling?"

Staring at Peter, Andrew was still unable to believe that this man who had been so ruthless only moments before was so passionate in his love for Sis.

"Know what I feel? Do you really want to know?"

The old teasing Andrew was back. "She wants her husband and is on fire for you. Come on, drive faster, I want to see her."

Diligently they showered to remove the stench of death before dressing and rejoining the others in the formal lounge room.

Jennifer, still dressed in her gown, clung to her mother hiding behind her as if she were a shy little girl. Excited, her heart pounding she wanted to rush to Peter when she heard his voice coming into the house, but she was terrified of how he would react to her brief, objectionable, life as a whore.

Peter stretched his arms out towards her and the love in his eyes was like a beacon calling her.

Hesitantly, she left her mother's protection and shyly began to walk towards him. Then she stopped, turned and moved to the old man of the jungle whom she lightly kissed on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I really don't understand how you knew the future. It's beyond me, but your predictions came true, all but one, and I thank God that we have emerged safely with more love between us than ever before."

She began to smile. "Now about that final prophecy! With all my heart, I pray you are just as accurate with that forecast as you were with everything else. When my twin girls arrive you'll be back to stand as their godfather."

Grinning, he stood and hugged her. His only words were, "May happiness come on secret winds and surround you forever in the ways of beauty," then as she turned to go to Peter, he added, "May the warm winds of Heaven blow softly upon your home and your God bless all who enter there."

Jennifer slowly drifted to Peter's arms, her ears still filled with the never-ending chant from the shearing shed. As it thundered in her brain, she could no longer remember the hours of misery and degradation.

Tentatively she approached her husband, only able to feel the overpowering love exploding within her. It seemed to be wrapping her in a warm cocoon of security and care.

Peter waited patiently, his arms open ready to receive his love. "I have ten thousand kisses for my wife, so come and collect the payment. Where's the champagne? We have to celebrate."

Taking Jennifer's left hand in his, he slipped her wedding and engagement rings onto her finger.

Clinging tightly to him, she began to cry.

Peter's finger tilted her face to his and he drowned in the sparkling green depths of her eyes as his lips slowly lowered to hers and he rejoiced in her sweetness. His hands lightly danced across her bare back and lovingly he enjoyed the sensations of her skin answering his call.

Her arms tightened around his neck and quietly her hands began to move into his hair to pull him even closer to her. It was obvious she wasn't going to let him escape. Her body was telling him she was his forever and would never stop loving him.

"Dad, do something he's eating her!" called Andrew in his old teasing manner. "God how mushy! Sis kick him. Don't let him do that to you. Mum, you do something before it's too late. You know these Sydney blokes are likely to do anything."

As he teased his sister, Andrew was amazed that the events of the night at the piggery were fading into a misty memory and he was finding it harder and harder to recall the details.

"Sis, no lady throws herself at a Sydney ruffian. It gives him ideas. God I can't stand this." He rose and began walking towards the lovers locked in each other's arms and kissing so deeply they heard nothing.

With each step he took, his mind seemed to clear of all the horrors of the night and he felt as though he was pressing against a barrier. He was one with Jennifer and his heart overflowed with love for his sister and this man. Knowing what she was feeling cleansed his memories.

He noticed his parents were standing motionless with their arms around each other, his mother's head on his father's chest and his head resting on her hair. The smiles on their faces told of their delight at seeing their daughter in the arms of her husband.

They had no intention on asking Peter or Andrew how they had spent their evening. It was enough to know that their daughter and her husband were together again.

It was a long time before Jennifer and Peter surfaced from their kisses to get their breath and to allow their beating hearts to return to normal when, grinning, Peter whispered in Jennifer's ear, "By the way I have a promissory note signed by you. Is it still valid?" Peter produced the note she had left that fateful Monday morning. Ignoring the presence of Jennifer's family, he opened it and slowly read,

'Peter my love. You looked after me when I was drunk. Now we're even. I love you more and more each day.

'Tonight, just for you, I will dress in these clothes that I wore last night and you can...'

Jennifer hugged him as shyly she replied, "Yes for every day for the rest of our lives."