Split Seconds

By Kathryn Collis

Gemma has a charmed life. Her father is a QC, her mother a barrister, and the family lives in a lovely home in St. Ives, on Sydneys North Shore. They are very well off financially. She is in her first year of studying medicine at the University of New South Wales and is gaining distinctions in all her subjects. Her boyfriend, Hunter, is in his third year of legal studies.

A terrible car crash shatters Gemmas world. She loses everyone dear to her and is utterly devastated.

A wedding invitation sees Gemma in Cowra, in central western New South Wales. She has the chance of a new life in the countryand perhaps loveif she can manage to stand up to her domineering parents.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jan 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503501300

Kathryn Collis

Kathryn Collis has published sixteen books through Xlibris, including Siblings, Eating Well for Less Than $30 a Week, Not So Grim Fairy Tales, and R.I.P. Details of her works can be found at www.kathryncollis.com. Kathryn lives on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.

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Copyright © 2015 by Kathryn Collis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/09/2015

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 1

Well, here we are, home sweet home, Jacinta Atkinson said, as she and her boyfriend Anthony Purnell-Paterson pulled up at the kerb in front of a modest brick veneer dwelling with a tiled roof. There was a huge carport next to it. Three cars were parked end to end under it. Anthony noticed they were all pretty old, boxy looking vehicles.

Uh, it’s nice, Anthony said. Geeze, no wonder she was prepared to put up with that crummy flat she had in Canterbury, and those country yokels she shared it with!

They got out of the car. Anthony immediately checked his hair in the side mirror. Yep, his gelled blonde spikes were sitting in place.

Jacinta, meanwhile, was checking her own appearance in the other side mirror. Vanity was one of the few traits the couple shared.

Come on, she said, when she was satisfied that her hair and make-up were next to perfect. Everyone’s dying to meet you.

She opened the gate that was set into the metre high wire mesh fence, then they went up the cement path and mounted the steps. Jacinta opened the outer screen door. The inner door was already open.

The doors opened onto a hallway. On one side a massive archway opened into a lounge room that featured a lounge suite Anthony was sure he’d seen in an IKEA catalogue. There was a walnut coffee table that looked somewhat out of place, and a TV cabinet made of some kind of pale blonde wood. On it sat a very large flat panel TV. There was some very old Axminster carpet on the floor. The walls were wallpapered. The wallpaper featured a cream background with green palm trees dotted all over it. Everything in the room was completely mismatched. Anthony frowned with disdain. These people obviously had no taste. For starters, in his opinion, wallpaper was extremely passé now.

Dad’s pride and joy, Jacinta said, proudly pointing out the flat screen TV. He does love watching his sports on Sky Channel of a night.

Anthony decided it wouldn’t be tactful to mention that he much preferred playing sports to just sitting on the lounge and watching them.

The door to the room across from the lounge room was closed. That’s Mum and Dad’s room, Jacinta said.

They went further down the hall. There were two more bedrooms. The doors to both were open. They were actually both quite roomy, and featured built-in wardrobes. However, they had gaudy orange shag pile carpet on the floors and the paint on the walls was a sort of pumpkin colour that in no way matched the colour of the carpets.

One was the boys’ room, Jacinta said. My sisters and I shared the other.

Not even a room to themselves, Anthony thought. He would hate to have to share his bedroom with anyone.

Behind these two bedrooms was a large kitchen. Mum and Dad are hoping to get it done up soon, Jacinta said, but money’s been a bit tight.

Taking in the scuffed vinyl flooring, the loud, green painted walls, and the dark-stained pine wood kitchen cupboards, Anthony decided that the renovation was long overdue. The huge refrigerator looked as if it came out of Noah’s Ark and the stove was of a similar vintage. All the kitchen appliances were so old he was sure they’d constitute a major electrical hazard.

Opposite the kitchen were a bathroom, laundry and toilet. The fixtures in all three rooms looked old. The bathroom had a bath with a shower over it, a tacky plastic shower curtain featuring some kind of weird geometric design, and a very old vanity unit. The small tiles were all laid in a brown and white checked design. The walls above and around the tiles had probably once been white but were now discoloured to a sort of light beige hue.

To Anthony, it was like being on the set of an old 1960s TV show or movie.

Dad got a mate to help add a patio out the back, Jacinta said, leading him through the back door, which opened into a fairly large yard. A somewhat sad looking Hills Hoist dominated one side of the yard. The clothes line might have been an Australian icon, but most people had replaced them with more modern apparatus that could be attached to a side wall, rather than occupying a large portion of the back yard.

There were quite a few people on the back lawn. Four men were clustered around a barbecue. Anthony had to admit that the aroma of meat and onions was actually quite appealing—just about the only satisfactory thing he’d encountered since his arrival.

Four women were sitting in folding chairs a few metres away from the men and the barbecue. Numerous kids of varying ages were running around, squealing and shouting. Anthony winced. Unless an up temp disco beat was involved, he hated loud noises.

Jacinta led him to the group of women first.

This is my Mum, Alice she said, Mum, this is Anthony.

Alice Atkinson was a rotund little woman with greying hair and a face that had a lot of laugh lines. Middle age had obviously not been kind to her, although having five kids probably hadn’t helped. Nice to meet you, Anthony, she said. I hope you’ll make yourself at home.

These are my sisters, Elaine and Janice, and this is my sister-in-law Lynn, Jacinta said, indicating the other three women.

Anthony nodded politely and said, Nice to meet you.

The three women were all different. Elaine was tall and slim like Jacinta, though much older and nowhere near as attractive. She had curly blonde hair too, but she wore it short. Janice must have taken after her mother. She was short and dumpy, with curly, mousy brown hair that came to around shoulder length. Her face was very round, she had muddy brown eyes and she also had a double chin. The sister-in-law, Lynn, was of average height and build. She had long, straight, dirty blonde hair which was tied back in a ponytail. She might have been attractive, but she already had the pinched look of a very heavy smoker. In fact, she was puffing on a fag at that very moment.

They all looked to be around the early to mid-thirties in age. Jacinta must have been a late baby, Anthony surmised.

It was hard to believe that Jacinta was related to any of these women.

She was stunningly attractive, which was the main attribute that had drawn Anthony to her. At a hundred and seventy centimetres tall and a willowy sixty kilograms in weight, she was just a few centimetres shorter than Andrew. She had a figure many models would envy: bumps where they should be, yet her waist was tiny. Like Anthony, she had bright blue eyes and blonde hair, however, whereas his hair was dead straight, hers was as curly as Nicole Kidman’s had been before she took to straightening it. She had a lovely heart shaped face with a little turned up nose and thick, pouty lips that looked as if she might have had Botox treatment—but Anthony knew for a fact that this wasn’t the case.

They engaged in a bit of general chit chat, then Jacinta led him over to the men.

Dad, this is Anthony, Anthony, my Dad, Bob.

Bob Atkinson was a tall, skinny man although he still had some musculature. His straight hair was grey. His face had that weathered look which told of many years spent working in the sun.

Dad’s a brickie, Jacinta said, adding proudly, He built this house.

Not all by myself, I didn’t, Bob said modestly. I had a ton of help. He shook Anthony’s hand. Good to meet you, son. What d’you think of our young Jacinta, eh? First member of the family to go to uni.

Jacinta blushed. Aw, Dad.

Anthony stifled the impulse to roll his eyes. Oh my God, he thought, Kingswood Country meets The Beverley Hillbillies.

The whole family was just so… common!

Next, Jacinta introduced her brother Marty, who was a younger version of his father. Marty works for the Water Board, she explained.

The brothers-in-law were not impressive. Tim, who was married to Elaine, was a mechanic. He was a tall, stocky bloke who looked like he might have played front row football at some stage.

Been working in the trade since I was apprenticed at the age of fifteen, he said. I can fix just about anything. If you need your car looked at any time, I’ll give you a good price.

Anthony didn’t think he wanted this guy anywhere near his Hyundai Getz and in any case, there was no way he’d bring his car all the way from St Ives to Campbelltown for a service or repairs.

Next came Mick, who, like his wife Janice, was short and round. He had a ruddy complexion and his hair and beard were both bright red. The beard was somewhat bushy and unkempt. Anthony decided he and his wife made a very suitable pair in that they were equally unappealing.

Mick works for the Council, Jacinta said.

Yeah, said Mick. Roads. I’m a traffic controller.

Anthony knew what that was. It was a glorified title for someone who operated the hand held ‘stop’ and ‘go’ signs where road works were being carried out.

I also moonlight as Santa in malls at Christmas time, he added.

Given his quite ample beer gut, this news came as no great surprise.

Anyhow, Bob said, indicating a huge Esky, the beers are all on ice. Help yourself.

I brought these, Anthony said, indicating the six-pack of James Boag’s Premium Light he’d taken out of the little Esky that was in his car. I have to be careful, seeing as I have to drop Jacinta home later then drive on up to my place.

That’s what the missus is for, Mick said jovially.’

I don’t think driving is one of Jacinta’s major skills, Anthony said.

Jacinta had a banged up little car. She’d once taken Anthony to a shopping centre in it. It had been quite a terrifying experience—stop signs and red lights had seemed to have no meaning for her—and he’d sworn he’d never get into the passenger seat of her car again. Correction, he would never again even get into that death trap she called a car, no matter who was driving.

Over the next couple of hours, the conversation indulged in by the men was dominated by sports and, mainly because of Tim, cars.

I serviced a nice little 1999 Toyota Corolla the other day, Tim was saying. The owner wants to sell it.

It might make a good car for Janice, said Mick thoughtfully. The clock on her little bomb’s about to tick over for the third time.

But it’s in good nick mechanically, Tim argued.

Yeah, but the bodywork’s stuffed. There’s hardly two panels on it that match. Anyway, how much do they want for the Corolla?

Two grand, said Tim.

Mick spluttered into his beer. What?

The whole scene brought the movie The Castle to Anthony’s mind. He could picture the dialogue:

Son (to Michael Caton’s character Darryl Kerrigan): There’s a bloke here wants to sell a phone booth, Dad.

Darryl: How much does he want for it?

Son: X dollars.

Father: Tell ’im he’s dreamin,.

His initial impressions of Jacinta’s family did not improve as time wore on. There was no discussion of current affairs or anything even slightly intellectual.

As far as education went, but for Bob’s brick laying certificate from TAFE, which was many years old, and the brother-in-law Tim’s mechanic’s certificate from TAFE, there wasn’t a tertiary qualification to be found among the whole of Jacinta’s family. Sure, Jacinta was the first of them to ever attend university, however, she’d only just managed to scrape into an Arts course. Hardly ambitious, to Anthony’s way of thinking, but she hadn’t gained a very auspicious pass in her Higher School Certificate. He wouldn’t have said she was the archetypical dumb blonde, exactly, but she was certainly no brains trust. Now he knew why.

Anthony was in his third year of a law degree at the University of New South Wales in Kensington, while his sister Gemma was a first year medical student. Both were gaining high distinctions in their studies. Their father, Yves Purnell-Paterson, was a Queen’s Counsel, or QC, their mother Nerida, a barrister. They lived in the prestigious North Shore suburb of St Ives.

Unlike Anthony’s professional parents, Bob, Tim, Mick and Marty all worked in blue collar type jobs. None of them even worked in an office. Except for Alice, who’d already done her share, all the women were busy raising rug rats.

Anthony hoped he was successful enough in hiding the negative thoughts he was having when he compared his family to Jacinta’s.

They left around three-thirty.

You’ve been very quiet, Jacinta said. Didn’t you like my family?

Oh no, he said. They were all very nice, made me feel very welcome. I just don’t follow the football and cricket much. More into squash, tennis and golf.

Yeah, I guess…

They were heading for the flat Jacinta was renting in Canterbury, in Sydney’s south-west. It was a run down two bedroom unit. When she was accepted into university, Jacinta decided that although her entire family lived in Campbelltown, the daily commute from there to the University of New South Wales in Kensington, in Sydney’s eastern suburbs, would be too long a haul, hence taking out the flat. She shared it with a couple of sisters from some country town, the name of which Anthony couldn’t remember. Their names were Molly and Nell. Christ! How bloody old fashioned! They seemed nice enough girls but were decidedly unsophisticated.

As they entered Jacinta’s street, Anthony experienced a sense of foreboding. Jacinta had said her flat mates had gone home to yokel-land to see their family. This of course meant they could screw themselves stupid.

Not only was she attractive, Jacinta was dynamite in bed.

Anthony could’ve had his pick of the girls at university; with his boyish good looks and a muscular body that evidenced long hours spent in the gym, they were practically throwing themselves at him. Yet it was Jacinta he’d ended up attaching himself to. He was now beginning to wonder if he’d made a huge mistake. Sure, Jacinta was great in bed, but there were other hotties at uni who were more… suitable.

Truth be told, the disparity in their family backgrounds wasn’t the only issue. He and Jacinta really didn’t have a lot else in common, either. Anthony was into sports—particularly squash—and was extremely aggressive and competitive. When not studying, Jacinta liked to veg out on that horrible old lounge of hers and watch DVD’s. The type of DVD’s she watched were what were commonly known as ‘chick flicks’: feel good, girlie stuff with very little plot or substance. There were no trips to the gym featured in Jacinta’s life. To her, getting up to eject one DVD and insert another constituted exercise.

Anthony was meticulous about his diet. Jacinta ate whatever rubbish she felt like; it was amazing she was so slim.

They had another major problem: Anthony refused to spend the night in Jacinta’s grotty flat. He could think of nothing worse than waking up there.

They argued about it constantly.

She had insisted on him making this visit to meet her family. He had a terrible feeling he knew what their next argument would be about. Unfortunately, his fears were well founded.

CHAPTER 2

Anthony blinked awake and stirred. God! What time was it?

He disentangled himself from the jumble of legs and arms that he and Jacinta had created, slid from the bed, and turned on the bedside lamp.

Christ! he muttered, as he looked at the Rolex on his arm. It was after two in the morning.

He fumbled around at the end of the bed and retrieved his jeans, polo shirt and boxer shorts.

What are you doing?

Jacinta had woken up. Anthony cursed inwardly, knowing that he was now in for the usual scene.

I have to get home.

What, so Mummy and Daddy don’t know you spent the night getting laid? she said sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes. Not this again!

Yes, this again.

Anthony ran a hand through his hair. The gel had long since disintegrated—half of it was probably ingrained into the pillow he’d slept on—and his hair was now just a short, tangled mess.

When are you going to tell them about us? Jacinta demanded.

Like I told you before, it’s… complicated, he said.

I don’t see why. We both go to the same uni. I’m a white Australian female, you’re a white Australian male. We both speak English.

But, he thought, I come from the north shore. You come from Campbelltown. We might as well come from different planets!

We’ve been seeing each other for months now, she said. Don’t you think that now you’ve been and met my family, it’s time I met yours?

You already know my sister Gemma, from uni and stuff.

That’s not the same. I want to see where you live.

Now he sighed deeply. Jacinta, don’t push it, okay?

Yeah, I know, she said caustically. Good enough to screw, not good enough to take home to meet the folks.

It’s not like that, he insisted.

"Oh yeah? Then tell me what it is like. I’d be fascinated to hear it."

J, we’re going along fine as we are. Why can’t we just let things carry on that way?

Because I’m sensing a lack of commitment, is why. Geeze, Anthony, what am I, just a one-night stand?

You know that’s not true.

Prove it, she challenged.

I’m out of here, he said. He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. See you at uni, okay?

That’s another thing, she said as he turned to leave. What is it that you do most weekends? Why aren’t you free to come and see me?

I just have other stuff to do, okay?

You’ve got someone else, haven’t you?

He sighed again, this sigh heavier than the previous one had been. We’ve been through all this before. I’ve told you, over and over, there’s no-one else! Okay?

Jacinta was in one of her moods; he could see that this time she wasn’t going to let the matter drop. She could be somewhat needy at times. He found it a very unattractive trait.

If you want us to continue, then you take me home to meet your folks. I’m not prepared to be just your weekend and very occasional week night girl. You know as well as I do, there are heaps of blokes out there who’d be more than happy to keep both their weekdays and their weekends free for me, Anthony. So you have a good think about that over the rest of the weekend! I mean it. If I’m not good enough to take home to meet Mummy and Daddy, then it seems to me I’m not good enough to go out with, full stop.

Anthony shook his head. Bye Jacinta.

With that, he picked his way across the bedroom. Christ, Jacinta was messy! There were clothes strewn all over the floor, and there was junk everywhere. He opened the bedroom door, then crossed the lounge room. The lounge room was a drab and very badly lit room. The grimy wallpaper was peeling, the carpet—if it could be called that—was threadbare. The room contained a beat up old wooden coffee table with some grotty dark green tiles on top, a battered old lounge and two equally battered armchairs—all of which were mismatched. There was a sideboard that was so old it was probably an antique. Properly done up, it might even have been worth a bit of money.

Taking one last look around, Anthony grimaced his distaste, then he opened the front door and stepped through onto the landing. He bounded down the steps, anxious to be out of this slum-like block of flats. In fact, he thought, as he made his way to where his car was parked in the