His cheek stung but as much as his hand instinctively wanted to go to it, he kept it by the side of his leg with all the force he could muster, his fist tightly curled. But his pride stung more. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He stared at the windscreen wipers moving so fast, yet not doing much to rid the screen of the rain that sloshed about on the glass. She was quiet now, but through the corner of his eye, he could see her hands grip the wheel tightly. There would be another blow; he knew the signs and steeled himself for it.

The narrow curve of the road caused the wheels to spin and then they were tumbling. Dark trees whooshed past and a scream, from whom, he couldn’t tell, pierced the silence.

A thud.

Then nothing.

Chapter 1

Jenna

Treville was a small town, more than six hours past the centre of Melbourne. Its population was small, and the minds of its residents even smaller. Boasting two pubs, a strip of shops and a primary as well as a high school, it was known for its wool produce. Jenna’s grandfather was one of those who owned a cattle farm and he passed on his fortune to Jenna’s father, who, through his gambling, lost it all and took his life, when Jenna was not yet four. Her mother, left with a two-storey weatherboard cottage atop a hill, became even more bitter than she used to be before she married Jenna’s father. Carol looked for a replacement for her husband, a father for her daughter, with little success. It didn’t help that it was the seventies, when men were not in the habit of committing to single mothers, or that there were only so many single men in a little town. She was dreadfully unsuccessful, but she continued happily in her quest, keeping busy by taking shifts in the service station, which was visited often by travellers moving through the town. She spent her spare time out the front of her house, gossiping with the neighbours. She never worried about her daughter. Jenna was a smart girl, a popular teenager; she would take care of herself and Carol prided herself on instilling the necessary values and etiquette for Jenna to find herself a proper suitor.

Jenna, about to begin her second last year of high school, did as all kids did; she tried to fit in by going to parties, mingling with members of the opposite sex and cavorting at the watering hole, two kilometres from the centre of town. Her best friend, Marie, having developed early, became popular immediately, and Jenna wished she could have the curly blonde locks and blue eyes that Marie did, along with her other, more generous assets. Instead, she was stuck with a hair colour that was the mix of hay and cow dung, that sometimes shone in the sun, and eyes, although large, with lashes that were thick and long, a dull brown. She wished she looked like her mother, who Jenna thought was the prettiest woman she had ever seen, even in comparison to the women in the magazines Jenna pored over. Her dark hair, which she tinted every fortnight, was straight and long, her eyes, an emerald green, resembled that of a cat. The looks she drew when shopping in Melbourne confirmed that her mother was beautiful everywhere, not just in the small town in which they lived.

Jenna often gazed at her reflection and wondered why she had to look like her father, when most of the girls she knew were spitting images of their mothers. She barely remembered her father; he was gone before he left any lasting impression on her and just flashes of a man with a beard, a crooked smile and receding hairline was all she could remember of him. Of course, there were photographs, lots of them, but lately, they had been disappearing off the mantel and the walls and Jenna didn’t want to ask her mother where they were. Her father was a sore topic to Carol, whose eyes would automatically darken whenever Peter’s name was mentioned.

It didn’t take much to darken Carol’s mood lately and Jenna just felt she was in the way most of the time, so she spent her evenings sitting in the front yard, with Marie and sometimes without, reading a book, or staring at the clouds, turning them into shapes of animals, waiting for the time to come so she could flee this town. The thought had just come to her recently when she had seen Pamela, the elder sister of Marie, float out of the place, with almost a royal wave, and it was then that Jenna realised it was possible to leave. For now, she was determined to sit her high school certificate, even though so many of her friends had already begun dropping out, choosing marriage over a career. It made her ill, watching these girls give away their brains and spunk for a man, and she was determined not to be one of them. It didn’t help that her mother kept a lookout for suitable beaux for her, none of whom Jenna found in the least bit interesting.

Jenna remembered the day she had taken notice of Joey. She had watched mesmerised as Joey, a seventeen-year-old new kid in town, had not reacted when on his first day of school, Tommy pulled the chair from under him as he tried to take his seat. The class watched in horror as he fell flat on his bony butt and Tommy had guffawed. On cue, they fell into a variety of laughter, from nervous giggles to forced laughs, like Tommy’s. Then she stared with her mouth ajar, as Joey had slowly gotten to his feet, picked up the upturned chair, straightened it and sat down, his eyes straight ahead facing the teacher, whose face mimicked her own. The classroom was now eerily quiet and Tommy looked around unsurely as students began to turn their heads away from the scene.

Tommy, clearly unhappy that he didn’t receive the desired reaction, flicked the book that lay on Joey’s table on the floor and sat back down in his own seat, right next to Joey’s, with his arms crossed in victory and a wide smile plastered on his face.

Jenna continued to watch as Joey calmly retrieved the book and straightened again, without a word. The teacher, after clearing her throat, began the class as if nothing had happened, but Jenna stared at Joey, marvelling at his composure and wondering at his reaction, or lack thereof, until she saw his jaw set tight and the vein on his neck bulge.