“Mum did, too. You didn’t give her a chance. She envied you, you know that?”
Gemma didn’t want to talk about it. She stared at her place mat, trying to blank out emerging memories of conversations with her mother. Next to her, Jason stirred.
“Why?” asked Jason.
“Mum was brigh
t,” explained John. “Her family wasn’t bothered with education. If she had gone to better schools, she could have gone to Uni and found a real career. Mum never had been ambitious for herself, but she was determined Gemma shouldn’t waste her education. Useful, practical qualifications.”
“Well, I did what she wanted, didn’t I?” Gemma slouched in her chair. “I didn’t get to do fine art. She made me choose vocational courses.” Bottled-up anger rose in her blood. “And she had been an artist, too. You saw the pictures she drew. Remember, we found them hidden in the attic when Dad did his back in and sent us there to fetch something. We both get our creativity from her. And yet, she wouldn’t let me study art because she couldn’t!”
“Enough!” Jason’s tone froze her. She had overstepped the respect line, even if the insolence was directed at her mother and not him.
***
Jason saw Andrea shift awkwardly in her seat, her gaze wandering about. It came as no surprise that families were complicated and layered with hidden secrets. He knew Gemma had kept many from her parents and John. If her brother were to know about the rape, he would be filled with fury and impotence, unable to protect her any longer and incapable of taking revenge on the dead perpetrator. Jason had much empathy with him with regard to being Gemma’s protector; it was a sentiment he shared.
To return the evening’s pleasant tone, he brought up another subject and then pondered what he had learnt about his wife’s family history. What had it revealed about his wife’s inherent behaviour and mannerisms?
Did John really understand the nature of his and Gemma’s relationship? Unlikely. According to Andrea, John had never said a word about it since the evening when he had witnessed Gemma kneel at Jason’s feet and reveal the fact she was his submissive. No curiosity or fact-finding mission followed on his part, unlike Andrea who regularly e-mailed Gemma and asked after them in terms clearly meant to prise open their relationship further. Jason ensured she kept the information to a minimum.
Hearing Gemma describe John as her childhood chaperone, the issue was clear to Jason: how could John protect a sister who wasn’t his to protect? His brother-in-law, conditioned by his mother, could no longer perform his given role. But was he capable of letting the sentiment go?
It explained why Gemma had kept her distance from John. From all of her family. He understood better why she struggled to tolerate the presence of her protection officers, her innate need to run away and be by herself. Her bodyguards reinstated the constraints imposed upon her as a rebellious teenager.
Jason’s childhood hadn’t been about escaping but taking the diversions offered to him and using them to help control his authoritarian personality. He’d devoured competitive sports with gusto. His athletic physique demanded regular exercise, and his leadership skills tuned his thoughts, stopping him going astray into a world of unruly, mutinous self-destruction.
Gemma’s mother had been the passive, controlling force in her life. Understated and slightly underhanded, his mother-in-law had kept her daughter on a tight leash until she could no longer keep hold of it. The moment the girl left home, Gemma was no longer hers to control. Others did that for her. Men like Jason.
Jason could see the resentment in Gemma’s emotional display. Not only because her education had been defined by her mother, but also because, instead of enjoying a mother-daughter relationship based on friendship and intimacy, Gemma had ended up keeping a distance from her mother. The excuse of her parents’ prudish behaviour had been half of the picture. Gemma’s secret sexual life—the rape and the nature of her relationship with Jason—none of it would be imparted to her mother because she wouldn’t have her mother dictate to her or contrive others to direct her. Yet, it was obvious Gemma needed that kind of person in her life. After all, she had handed control straight to him. His rule over her was even tighter than her mother’s had been.
One thing wasn’t a new revelation: his wife was a consummate attention seeker. The shortening of her skirts, hanging about with boys, and even defying her parents had given her results, made her the centre of their attention. John, the obedient brother, had been tasked with guarding her while her sexually awakening thrived. She had resented her guardian, but she never snubbed his company or sought to fully take on the mantle of a rebellious adolescent child. She hadn’t run away or refused to cooperate with the disciplinary measures inflicted on her. She was a submissive to everyone about her, and she milked the sentiment for all it was worth.
Ordering dessert interrupted a protracted period of silence. By the time fresh wine had been poured by the hovering waiter, Gemma had regained her composure—her trembling fingers quelled and her breathing slower. “What are the plans for tomorrow, Jason?” she tactfully asked.
“Head south. I thought you two girls might enjoy the sun while John and I try out the powerboat. Leo Lubinsky is something of an expert at handling fast boats.”
John’s face lit up at the suggestion.
The evening meal ended, they returned to Sublime. Exchanging pleasantries, they parted company, and Jason led his wife up the private staircase.
***
“What did I tell you about being respectful, Gemma?” Jason asked as they entered their stateroom.
Her knees bent automatically, and she dropped to the floor.
“Well?”
“I didn’t realise it extended to those not present, Sir,” Her tone held a modicum of annoyance, daring under the circumstances.
“Parents always deserve respect, especially when they dote on their children. Your mother loves you very much, and she feared for you as a young woman. She had every right to, as well, didn’t she?” Jason stood over her, arms folded, legs astride. Typically one of his more daunting poses, and yet, it only seemed to inflame her own anger.
“Are you saying if I had let my mother keep me shut up in my bedroom, I wouldn’t have been abused? That I should be grateful she kept me a virtual prisoner in my house?”
Gemma attempted to rise to her feet. She didn’t feel very submissive.
“Don’t be obtuse. She recognised your vulnerabilities, your flaws. The need you have to be wanted and desired by others. The rape was criminal, but your path towards it put you at risk.”