Page 38 of Repluse

I feel sick, dizzy, and my head hurts. I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry.

Alice.

Alice fucking O’Leary.

Poor, little dull Alice.

I laugh. “Fuck me. I stole him right out from under her, and she stole him right back. I’ve spent years feeling bad for Alice, and… and all this time…” My mouth opens and closes like a goldfish before I finally settle on, “How? When? When does he come to the club? Weeknights, he often gets home late, but most weekends he spends with me. The nights at least.”

“The chopper,” Sam states.

“Where does he tell you he’s going when he takes the chopper?” Frankie asks.

“Out to visit a cattle farm. They own a couple in remote areas of New South, and I think Southern Queensland, too. He takes the chopper at least twice a week. Leaves early, gets home late. After midnight sometimes.”

“Well, I’m not sure what he’s doing during the day, but he lands the chopper on the roof of our building when he comes to the club on a weeknight, and Alice is always with him.”

“That motherfucker.” I probably have no right to feel angry, but I do. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“And…” Sam points his finger and circles it forward, gesturing for Frankie to continue.

“And sometimes Scott’s with them.”

I’m not sure what the look is on my face as my eyes dart between both of them. I don’t have words to express how I’m feeling. I was lost earlier, but now? I’d like to say I’m shocked, but I think I’m actually numb.

“You okay?” Sam asks. “This is a lot.”

“I don’t know what I am,” I admit. “My husband’s a member of a sex club he attends with his mistress and his dad.”

“And they both fuck her,” Frankie adds.

“Oh! Fuck! Fuck me!” I straighten and run my fingers through my hair as I draw in a breath, then let it out. I take a long sip of my water. “What the fuck are they putting in the water in Yirabang? I mean, I thought I was fucked up. That what I wanted to do with you two made me a freaky little weirdo, but that… My husband and my father-in-law sharing a woman at a sex club?”

We’re all silent for a long moment. I think Sam and Frankie purposely give me time to compose myself.

“I’m not angry he’s having an affair, or that he regularly visits a sex club. I’m angry at myself for being so stupid. Angry at the hypocrisy of Scott lashing out at Ella the way he did for being gay when he’s…”

“Ella’s finally come out to him?” Frankie questions.

“No, not really, but I think he knows. That’s how I ended up like this.”

“What? Why?”

I give Frankie a quick run through of the events of Monday morning and describe how I sustained my injuries.

“And Logan did nothing? Said nothing?” Frankie asks.

“He told me I shouldn’t have interfered.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Mils, for all of it. The man’s a fucking pyscho, and your husband’s an absolute fucking coward. Does Scott not realise that everyone knows Ella’s gay? It’s not like it’s a secret. We’ve all known since we were kids, and guess what, nobody gives a rat’s arse. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“I don’t know what he knows. I thought he was either turning a blind eye to it or was so self-absorbed, he hadn’t noticed. Either way, having a gay daughter doesn’t fit with the perfect family Scott Walsh likes to present to the people of Yirabang. Knowing what I know now, that’s fucking laughable, but I’m actually scared for Ella. He’s either going to get her committed or sectioned, or whatever it is you do to get someone locked up for mental health reasons. Or he’s going to pack her off to one of those reconditioning places where they think they can beat or traumatise the gay out of you.”

“Conversion camps?” Sam offers.

“Something like that. Logan told me she was sick in the head. That Marcie had been brain washing her and making her believe things that aren’t true. He told me they were going to take her somewhere to get her help.”

“Marcie Bonner?” Frankie asks.

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