She was lying on a sofa, a tea towel held over the wound on her arm, blood already seeping through it. Joe Kennedy was kneeling beside his daughter, holding the towel as tightly as he could, weeping softly, tears falling onto the sofa cushion below him. Tami had her eyes closed, but I could tell she was conscious, a low groaning conveying her pain. She also had a steady stream of tears running down her cheeks. She held her father’s hand in a vice-like grip, the whites of her knuckles bulging. I could only stand by and watch as they tried to comfort each other, her nightmare almost unimaginable.
When the ambulance arrived, the two officers placed Tami on a stretcher and wheeled her to their car. They slid her into the back, her father never leaving her side, nor letting go of his little girl’s hand. I asked if it would be OK to ride in the car with them and was given the nod. Chief Rademeyer arrived at that moment, grabbing my hand and pumping it up and down with much enthusiasm. He gave me a clap on the back as I climbed into the passenger seat of the ambulance and told me he would ensure I received ‘a god-damn medal’.
Tami was admitted to Daylesford Hospital and spent 10 days recuperating. Her wound healed although she would carry the scar for the rest of her life. I stayed with her and her father the first night and all of the next day. The rest of the week, I would visit regularly and Joe would ask me to sit with her when he needed to run errands himself. It was during those times that Tami and I would sit and talk. She would tell me about her dreams, her ambitions, her goals. Places she wanted to visit, like Paris, London and of course Rome. She was a girl with so much ambition and a huge amount of passion. She loved drawing, and as I discovered during those days, had the talent of someone that could sketch unbelievable life-like pictures. One of the drawings that I still cherish to this day, was one she had drawn of me after I nodded off in the chair one morning. I had finished working a night shift and visited her as soon as I left the station. My eyes were so heavy and after an hour of listening to her, fell asleep while Tami had gone to the bathroom. When I awoke a couple of hours later, she had managed to create a near photographic pencil drawing of me. That drawing is framed and hanging above my fireplace as I write this.
Eventually, Tami was released from the hospital, her father picking her up, one arm still bandaged. I helped them with her suitcase, carrying it for her as her father wheeled the chair outside. Joe thanked me for my help then drove his daughter home, Tami flashing me her gorgeous smile through the car window as they headed off.
In the following weeks, I would often visit the Kennedy farm, more so during the subsequent trial. It wasn’t easy for her to give evidence, but she pooled all the strength that she could muster together, and like an Anzac at Gallipoli, charged head first into helping the prosecutor find Lucifer guilty of all charges.
When the trial was over, Lightman finally sitting in a cell he would now call home, and the fanfare in the media diminished, life went pretty much back to normal for everyone. For Tami and I, we discovered our mutual interest in ancient cultures, primarily ancient Rome, and would spend hours going to the library, reading books, and discovering anything we could get our hands on. Joe Kennedy didn’t seem to mind my constant visits, even offering me a back bedroom after a couple of particularly late nights of card games the three of us had played. He had taught Tami the art of Poker, Euchre and Bridge at an early age and often played together. I enjoyed playing with them, sometimes staying till late into the night or early morning.
Then, one night as we stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dinner dishes together while her father sat on the front porch smoking his pipe, Tami had lent in and kissed me. The kiss had been flirting in the air between us for weeks, but my shyness kept me from acting on it, while Tami pushed hers aside. It was such a romantic moment for me. I know, standing at a kitchen sink holding a tea towel may not sound like the ideal spot for a first kiss, but for me feeling her lips on mine at that moment, we could have been standing in the middle of a shit-storm and it wouldn’t have mattered. When Tami’s lips touched mine, the world of the living ceased to exist, time seemingly halted. I reached one hand out and touched her cheek as our lips danced together, gently caressing the side of her face, her tongue gently teasing mine. When it was finished, she pulled back a little and looked into my eyes, and into my soul. The passion and infatuation that came over me at that moment, has never left me in all the years since, nor has it abated a single ounce, if anything, having manifested itself further with each passing day.
Our relationship continued to grow from that moment, with Tami sometimes staying at my own home. Joe never interfered in our relationship, supporting us from the onset. At the time, it never occurred to me that our lines of communication were guarded, me holding back from
