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.