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“He says trust him. Ask the bloody question.”
Darcy looked like he’d slapped her, and he had to clench his back teeth to get through this.
She composed herself enough to say, “You said Norman Vessy, your guardian, your adopted brother Peter’s father, was killed. How did Norman Vessy die?”
She’d phrased it so carefully, she wanted him to say Norman drowned, but she couldn’t trust him to leave it there. She’d abandoned her straight back posture and was leaning forward.
“Norman drowned.” She sighed and her shoulders dropped. “In a shallow creek while I watched him.”
“That was—” He raised his voice to cut her off.
“Norman Vessy chose to be a drunk and a child abuser. I didn’t kill him, but I could have saved him and I choose not to. I chose to let Norman Vessy drown.” If this had been a legitimate business interview Aileen would’ve been pleased he’d nailed his key message. Shit, he hoped Aileen didn’t quit over this.
“Will!”
Darcy was on her feet again. This time he stood with her. There wasn’t anyone in the studio who didn’t understand Will Parker had virtually confessed to aiding and abetting the death of Norman Vessy, hadn’t lined himself up for a manslaughter investigation, and done it on camera knowing this was for broadcast.
He reached for her but she recoiled in shock. She looked towards Alan. “We’re not broadcasting that. Will did not mean what he said. I’ll ask the question again, or we can cut after he says, ‘Norman drowned’?”
Alan, Merrit and other members of the crew had surrounded them. “Do you wish to answer that question in a different way, Mr Parker?” said Alan, and Will knew this was heart attack cause territory for that lard tub.
“No, I’m perfectly comfortable with that response.”
Alan would’ve danced for joy if his knees had allowed for the motion. Will had just handed the bastard the scoop of the year.
“Are you comfortable talking about what happened next, Mr Parker?” said Alan.
“No, he’s not,” snapped Darcy. “He’s clearly not. We have a moral obligation not to let Will incriminate himself.” She turned from Alan and stepped up to him. “Will, don’t do this. Peter can get an injunction to stop them broadcasting. We can stop everything right now.”
He took her hand, stone cold and shaking. “It’s okay, Lois. This is what I want. Better out than in. I’ve had enough of hiding from it, and I wanted to have some control of the message.”
“You’re sick, Will, you’re not well. I’m going to call Peter right now. We’ll fix this.”
He leant down, spoke low only for her. “I love you, and I’m sorry I did this to you. I need this Darcy. I want this.” She was trembling all over. “Don’t give them what they want. Don’t crack. Be as angry as you want with me, but be true to you. This is your next headline, my darling, and I want you to run with it.”
48. Responsibility
“I want you to be everything that's you, deep at the centre of your being.” — Confucius
Darcy asked the next few questions as if she was absent from her body. All the light was gone from her eyes. She might’ve been a Spider Slayer robot with damaged circuitry. This, right now, was the hardest part. The part where Will had to trust she loved him enough to come out of this.
He told her how he buried Norman, leaving Pete out of that scene. He told her how they used Pete’s inheritance to get out of Tara and start their new lives. He didn’t think skimping on the detail would matter. He didn’t think this part of the interview would even air. Aileen had taught him well, they had their sound bite.
When Darcy finally failed to ask another question, Alan waddled in and ended the interview, telling her he’d script a close to camera for her to read, not trusting her to be able to do it herself. At least he knew his business.
The crew vaporised so cleanly Will knew mobile phones were getting a work-out, and every journalist mate or police contact in the city owed a favour would be getting a call.
He had one to make too. But he had Darcy to consider first, and he no longer cared if they looked like more to each other than friends for life. He’d just abused her trust in the worst way
possible, on top of all the grief he’d already given her, and she needed to be cared for if he had any chance she’d eventually see this his way.
She was still sitting in her lounge chair, she had her eyes closed as if meditating, but she looked anything but in a state of grace.
He touched her knee and she rocketed out of the chair. “Don’t Will.” Both hands came up defensively. “I can’t talk to you. I don’t even want to look at you.” Then she put her fingers to her mouth as if to wipe away his last intimate touch.
“I cannot understand why you did that. I thought when I left you in Tara you were well, whole, but that’s clearly not the case. You’re...I can’t even...you’re not stable...there is no way to...”
She stopped, closed her eyes, and when she opened them Will could see her confusion had dropped away. “That you would do that to me, after what we agreed. That you would do that to someone you say you love. You bring a whole new meaning to the word ‘essential’. It appears to mean anything you can use to your own advantage.”
