The Demon Inside, page 3
“Where’s my rent money?” His words were slurred as he swayed on his feet, one hand clutching the neck of a whisky bottle with only a swig or two left to swirl around the bottom.
“I gave it to you last week,” Alec replied tersely, subtly reaching an arm across her body until she was behind him, fingers brushing against her jean clad thigh.
“No you di’n’t, don’ try to cheat me, boy! I want my money.” The man’s voice rose to a shout and Alec’s muscles flexed beneath the hand she placed on his back.
“What, so you can waste it on more booze?” There was a bitter note in his voice that was so different from the cheerful, easy-going man she knew. A second later the man had Alec by the front of his shirt, jerking him forward a step, having moved surprisingly fast for someone who was obviously inebriated.
“Don’ talk to me like that, I’m your fuckin’ father. You show me some respect.” Alec’s expression showed only contempt and the other man’s face reddened in anger, but then Alec’s lips pressed together and he sighed, shoving a hand into his pocket and producing his wallet.
“Here,” he thrust some money at his dad, “take it.”
“And the rest.” There was a tense silence in which the two of them stood staring at one another in a standoff, before Alec threw the rest of the money at him and fished a handful of small change out of his other pocket.
Scattering the coins on the floor, he snapped, “We’re out of here.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her from the room. She didn’t even think the man even noticed her presence as he dropped to his knees and began greedily gathering up the money.
They were both silent all the way out to the van and for the first few minutes of the ride across town towards her house. Alec fixed his eyes resolutely on the road ahead, his jaw tense as he gripped the steering wheel tight enough to whiten his knuckles.
“Is your dad always like that?” Darcy asked quietly when they paused at a traffic light, the red light illuminating his face as his eyes tracked the people crossing in front of them.
“Like what?” He snapped belligerently.
“Don’t be like that,” she murmured, reaching over to touch his forearm. Glancing down at her hand, he sighed, taking one hand off the wheel to scrub it down his face, his expression suddenly weary, before he returned his gaze to the light turning from red to orange and then green.
“Most of the time,” he answered her original question grudging, but his tone said that was the end of the conversation. Yet she couldn’t help but push for a little more.
“I thought he was going to hit you.”
“No,” Alec denied sharply, his gaze colliding with hers. “No,” he repeated, “he wouldn’t do that. He never has and he never will. He used to be in the army, it was his job to protect people. I’m not making excuses for him because the way he behaves disgusts me and I hate him sometimes, but he’s had a rough time of it after coming back from Iraq and he can’t adjust, but I think there’s a line he just won’t cross. He’s an arse but I don’t think he’d ever hit me.” Darcy wasn’t so sure, but she understood that he wanted to think that somewhere, deep down his father cared for him.
“What about your mum? Where’s she?”
“She split soon after Dad came back, at least she waited that long so I didn’t end up in the system.”
Nodding, though she didn’t completely understand the disgust lacing his voice when he mentioned being put into care, she attempted to change the subject. “So, where did you learn all that self-defence stuff?”
“My dad taught me.” Catching her startled look, he cast her a sardonic smirk, “like I said, he wasn’t always a drunken bastard.”
Chapter Two
The next day, when she related the story to Callie in confidence as they sat in her bedroom, her friend snorted derisively and shook her head, “It doesn’t surprise me.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Darcy’s brows drew together as she straightened, feeling suddenly defensive.
“You know what I mean,” Callie blew on her newly painted nails – red to match her hair – completely oblivious to the change in atmosphere, “he’s you’re typical council house kid born and bred, dysfunctional family and all.”
“Wow, Cal,” her lips trembled with anger, “when did you become such a stuck-up bitch? So what if he grew up on a council estate? So what if his father is a drunk? None of that’s his fault. Alec is working so hard to get his life together and become better than his circumstances! You should admire him for that.”
“Oh come on, Darcy, I don’t get why you’re so mad. Can’t you see he’s nothing but trouble? He’s going to end up just like his father, living in some skanky council flat chugging down whisky like it’s going out of fashion.”
“I told you all that because you’re my best friend, not so that you could use it against him. I can’t believe you!” Shoving off the bed, she paced across the room, feeling like her entire body would fly apart if she didn’t move. “I think you should leave.”
“Seriously?” Unable to speak around the lump in her throat, Darcy turned her head away and nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Callie’s shocked expression.
After a moment, in which Darcy didn’t take back her words, though part of her desperately wanted to, Callie slowly got off the bed and walked towards the door. No one else would notice how her tight expression was designed to hide the hurt she was feeling, but Darcy noticed and her stomach twisted painfully at the thought that she had hurt her best friend. By the door, Callie paused, glancing back at her before clenching her jaw and stepping out into the hallway. Listening to her footsteps along the hall and down the stairs, Darcy only followed when she heard her mum’s voice drifting up from the kitchen.
“Callie, love, are you staying for tea?” On the bottom step, Callie paused once more, looking to her for an answer as she came down too, clearly expecting her to change her mind.
“Not today, Mum,” Darcy answered for her.
Having seen Callie out and shut the front door, Darcy leant back against it and glanced at her mum, who stood in the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall, watching her with a speculative expression. Being a psychologist Cora Smith often saw more than her children wanted her to, but to even that out she rarely asked questions, instead she simply waited for them to come to her with their problems in their own time. On the other hand, if their dad wanted to know something he badgered them with constant questions designed to catch them out, fitting since he was a high end lawyer. Forcing a smile for her mum, Darcy padded into the living room, where her sister Hope, barely two years her junior and almost identical to her in looks, apart from her hair which was a fairer wheat blond, was sprawled on one of the cream sofas watching a reality show on TV.
Sitting on the other sofa, she gazed blindly at the screen, jumping when the family’s greyhound, Lucy, thrust her long muzzle into her lap. An ex-race dog who’d been abandoned by her previous owners after she broke her right front leg; the injury no longer affected her in any way, but it left her unable to race professionally. Lucy was extremely affectionate, sometimes annoyingly so, but right now Darcy welcomed the warm, living weight pushing against her legs and the rhythmic thumping of her tail against the sofa leg. Wrapping her arms around the dogs slender neck, she hugged her close; she felt hollow inside, un-tethered like a ship which suddenly found itself being pulled out to sea with no crew to steer it, watching as the harbour got smaller and smaller; she and Callie had never really fought before, never fallen out or even gone a few days without talking, not in all the years they had been friends. Perhaps they had never argued because nothing had ever mattered enough to argue over; obviously she had known Callie didn’t like Alec, but she’d thought her friend’s opinion would change if she understood him better, if she could only see how hard he was trying to become better than his situation. The fact that Callie didn’t see it the way she did left her on uneven footing; she wasn’t sure what to do next because they had been friends too long to simply stop now, but Alec had carved out a niche in her heart and she couldn’t bear to hear him being talked about as if he were nothing but dirt under Callie’s shoe simply because of where he had been brought up.
Thankfully, Alec got on better with her family than he did with her best friend. Watching him pull into the drive for Sunday lunch, his white van freshly washed and gleaming in the summer sun, Darcy hurried out to meet him, greeting him with a hug as he came up the front steps.
“Don’t you look smart,” she grinned, running her palms over his firm chest, clad in a neatly ironed white shirt, complete with tie, black suit jacket and trousers. He looked absolutely gorgeous, except… “Aren’t you hot?”
“I’m baking alive,” he admitted with a wry quirk of his lips, but his eyes showed unease as he eyed the large, fancy house at her back; he’d seen it before when he dropped her off in the evenings, always waiting until she was safely inside before driving off, but this time was different.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she reassured him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze as she led him inside.
“It doesn’t look bad at all,” he murmured, his fingers flexing around hers, “not bad at all.” As soon as they stepped through the door, the clatter of claws on hard wood floor announced Lucy’s arrival as she greeted their guest with a flurry of barking and the enthusiastic wagging of her tail.
“This is Lucy,” Darcy smiled as Alec leant down to stroke a hand down the dogs back, crouching beside him to fondle her ears as she sat soaking up all their attention, tilting her head into the caress and letting her tongue loll out in a canine smile.
Chuckling at the expression, Alec gave her head a final pat, firm but gentle, as he straightened, holding out a hand to pull her back up beside him, asking, “Is the rest of the family going to be as welcoming?” Resenting the loss of his attention, Lucy shoved her muzzle demandingly into his palm, licking at his fingers as she whined piteously and gazed up at him with adoring liquid brown eyes.
Unable to help her burst of laughter, Darcy shook her head, “I certainly hope not.”
Going through the front hall, past the staircase, they stepped into the kitchen, to find it filled with steam, fogging the windows and billowing from the oven as her mum rescued the golden chicken from the burning heat.
“Mum...” Darcy called out, but the shrill cry of the fire alarm drowned her out.
“Damn,” her mum swore, depositing the chicken on the marble counter with a clatter as she rushed over to fan the alarm with the oven glove, too short to push the button. A moment later, her eyes flickered over to them standing in the doorway. Hurrying over with a rapid click of heels on the tile floor, she clasped Alec’s arm and pulled him across the room, pointing towards the alarm. “Just push that button for me, would you, dear?” Reaching up easily, he pressed the red circle and the ear-splitting sound stopped immediately.
Suddenly appearing at her elbow, Hope whistled softly, “Wow, he is hot!” As the steam cleared, escaping through the window her mum pushed open, Darcy saw a faint blush rising in Alec’s cheeks when he heard her sister’s comment.
“Hope, don’t embarrass him,” their mum chided, “go tell your dad that Alec’s here.” Opening her mouth to argue, Hope was silenced by a look that Darcy was more than familiar with, having been on the receiving end once or twice, and, giving a put-upon sigh, padded along the hall to their dads office. Wiping her hands on the dishcloth, Cora gave Alec a friendly smile, employing her fabulous talent for making anyone feel at ease.
“It’s really nice to finally meet you, Alec,” he had to stoop so that she could embrace him, “we’ve heard so much about you. My name’s Cora,” she tilted her head to see Hope retuning with their dad, “this is my husband Ken and our youngest daughter, Hope.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs Smith... Mr Smith,” Alec nodded to her dad as he came up behind her, reaching over to shake his hand, “Thank you for inviting me, everything smells amazing.”
Beaming, Cora patted his arm in a maternal gesture. “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. Darcy, why don’t you show Alec around?”
“Okay,” Darcy smiled, taking his hand as soon as he came within reach and steering him around Hope and her father, both of whom stood inconveniently right in the doorway. Pulling him out into the hall, she glanced up at him, whispering teasingly, “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” In response, he blew out a pent up breath, the tension in his shoulders draining away.
“Hope, come give me a hand,” her mum called when her little sister went to follow them.
“But...” Hope protested.
“Now, please.”
“Fine,” she sighed. Their dad muttered something and their mum laughed, a soft joyful sound that pervaded the house. It was the soundtrack of her childhood.
Giving Alec the grand tour, they finally ended up in her bedroom. It was a decently sized room, with lilac walls and a large window looking out over the back garden, where Lucy was racing around having her mad five minutes, a streak of silver across the green lawn.
Holding her arms akimbo, she turned to face him and walked backwards into the room, “Welcome to my humble abode.” Smiling at her playfulness, he followed her, glancing around at the desk piled high with scraps of paper and other paraphernalia, the photos on the walls, popular romance novels stacked on one shelf, the teddies sat against the beds headboard.
“What’s this?” he asked, picking up the black sketch pad lying on her bedside table and turning it over in his hands before glancing up at her, “Can I have a look?” Feeling suddenly shy, she bit her lip, nodding hesitantly and shuffling forward to join him as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Sitting slightly behind him, she tucked her legs up under her and rested her chin on his shoulder, watching anxiously as he quietly flicked through her sketches of famous buildings and architectural structures around the world – among them were St. Basil’s Cathedral, the Colosseum, Sydney Opera House, London Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge and the Eiffel Tower.
“I don’t recognise these,” he tilted his head, glance back at her questioningly, as he reached a series of building plans that she’d designed herself, lightly brushing his fingertips over the pencil drawn images.
“They’re my designs,” she admitted, ducking her head self-consciously when he gave her a surprised look.
“They’re really good,” he was said wonderingly, returning his gaze to the page, “have you done anymore?” Nodding, glowing inside at the praise, she dropped to her knees on the laminate floor and fished several more pads out from beneath the bed; all of them bursting with more of her own creations and drawings of iconic structures.
By the time her mum called them down for dinner they lay side by side across the bed as she showed him her favourite projects, relaxed and joking together. Rolling off the bed, she grinned down at him as he closed the sketch pads and stowed them back in their secret hiding place beneath the bed. Straightening, Alec shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it on the rumpled sheets, hazel eyes watchful as she stepped closer to him until they stood toe to toe. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Darcy tilted her head back to gaze up into his handsome face with his crooked nose, stroking her fingers through the chocolate brown hair at his nape. Stretching up on tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, before sliding her hands down over his shoulders to loosen his tie and pop open his top button.
“That’s better,” she smiled, dropping another kiss to the smoothly tanned skin of his throat, imagining she could still feel the heat of the sun, “much more relaxed.”
Dinner was delicious – roast chicken, vegetables, crispy roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings, all swimming in thick, flavoursome gravy. And for desert a decedent chocolate cheesecake.
“I made this,” Darcy said, widening her eyes innocently and nodding at him as he swallowed his mouthful. Across the table Hope snorted and even her dad’s stern expression softened.
“Really?” Alec asked dubiously, glancing from her to her sister.
“No,” she admitted with a mock pout, though she had come to accept that she couldn’t cook to save her life.
“Darcy’s a terrible cook,” Hope ratted her out with a laugh, “seriously, she could burn water.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad!” She defended indignantly.
“Darling,” her mum leant over to clasp her hand, “need I remind you why we had to redecorate the kitchen?” Darcy pursed her lips.
“What happened?” Alec wanted to know, the green flecks in his eyes dancing.
“Nothing,” Darcy said quickly, “absolutely nothing. Everyone eat your cheesecake.”
“Ah, come on,” he flashed her a smile, the charmingly seductive one that made her insides melt, squeezing her bare knee playfully under the table, before sliding it briefly up her thigh, beneath her dress, and dropping away, having made her heart race and skin prickly deliciously, “I wanna hear the story.”
Blushing, she shook her head, “No, you don’t.”
The story got told despite her protests and she spent the remainder of the meal with her burning face pressed against Alec’s arm as his entire body shook with unrestrained laughter. Several more embarrassing childhood stories later and her mum decided it was time to break out the photo albums.
“You were cute,” he conceded, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and tucking her into his side on the living room sofa.
Mock punching him, she scowled, “I’m still cute.”
Laughing, he kissed the tip of her nose, “No, now you’re beautiful.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw her parents exchanging a look; her dad, who had been unusually quiet tonight and not exactly welcoming, looked speculative, his expression pinched, whereas her mum looked frankly gleeful. Fidgeting beneath their gazes, she looked down at the photograph Alec was studying thoughtfully. The picture was one of her and Hope when they were little; she was four, Hope two, both of them wrapped in the same towel, giggling at something, their blond hair dripping sea water, the waves lapped at the sandy beach behind them as the sun sank down behind the horizon.
