In Jeopardy (11 page)

Christine turns to Heaven. ‘Is this what he told you?’

She expects that Heaven will find her mettle and join Richard in his attack. Instead she pins herself against the wall as if attempting to push herself through it then disappear. Her mouth is pressed closed and her face expresses the pained look of a terrified animal bailed up in a corner unsure whether to spring out and attack or remain frozen and submissive.

‘Christine, you’re rotten to the core. Don’t involve Heaven in your dirty games. Has your life gone down the toilet since you left me?’

‘I see you’ve wasted no time spinning a web of lies about what went wrong between us.’

Richard is struck speechless by her spray of words.

‘Aside from Fairy Floss over there who else have you burdened with scandalous lies about me?’

Richard points at Christine, turns and says to Heaven, ‘See what kind of a bitch she is?’

She turns to Heaven. ‘Don’t be fooled by his loose relationship with the truth.’

Richard bites back. ‘Shut your f—ken face.’

Christine’s attention shifts back to Richard. ‘I didn’t come here to split hairs about our sour relationship. I didn’t come here to be subjected to a character assassination. As we are no longer together you can now inflict your filth onto your tart – I’m off limits.’

‘Why are you here – bitch?’

‘You’ve wasted no time redecorating my house.’

‘You set that arsehole solicitor onto me. He threatens me, orders me not to contact you and tells me if I do he will take legal action against me.’ He turns to Heaven, ‘You see what kind of psycho she is?’

Heaven nods tentatively in agreement.

He stabs his index finger at Christine. ‘She always been a c—k sucker. I bet she pays that f—k of a solicitor in blow jobs. That explains why he’s on my case.’

‘I didn’t come here to be subjected to your obscenities and bulls—t.’

He rushes at Christine, thrusts his face inches away from hers. He steps back, stabs a finger at her chest. ‘You vanish. That c—k sucker sends me nasty letters, makes outrageous claims and demands. Then – without warning you turn up. What the f—k do you want from me, you dumb slag?’

Christine steps away from Richard, repulsed by the smell of his aftershave. ‘No need to shout dick – I’m inches away.’

Richard steps closer. His face becomes blurred and distorted. Christine feels rank heat burst from his skin. His boozy breath becomes a cloying miasma. He shouts, ‘I’ll break your f—king worthless face!’

‘You’re playing a dangerous game…’

‘And – you – are trespassing. You have three seconds to get out or I’ll smash your face.’

‘This is my house. I like it here, especially with the changes you’ve made.’

‘Do you?’

‘So much so I will be spending the night here – I might even stay longer.’

Richard grabs her by both shoulders and shakes her before she yanks herself from his grip. He lunges forward and this time holds her in his grip, shoving her against the wall beside the mantel piece.

Unable to wrestle away from his grip, she is paralysed into a state of shock. She becomes a helpless ragdoll, unable to escape. ‘Got anything else to say before I smash your f—ken face?’

‘You’re a real hero, Banks.’

Richard releases his grip and turns to where the voice comes from. His shoulders drop and his arms swing impotently by his sides as he watches Thornton applauds and walks towards them. ‘That was quite a show Banks.’

Christine steps away from the wall. Heaven retreats from the corner. Seemingly recovered, possibly curious, she shoots Christine a venomous glare then shifts her gaze to Thornton.

Richard finds his voice. ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’

Christine walks away from Richard. She stands next to Thornton, watches and waits for Richard’s next attack. Heaven moves up close to Richard who places an arm into the small of her back.

‘Nice trick Christine,’ Richard sneers. ‘He’s your fancy man is he? I see you’ve wasted no time.’

Thornton looks at Christine, smiles and picks up her left hand. ‘Good guess Banks. Only regret is that I haven’t been able to put a ring on this finger – yet.’

‘Christine – you’re a filthy, lying rat. What sort of a game do you think you’re playing?’ He forms his hand in the shape of a gun. ‘You – fancy man – might like to know – she was a street slut when I rescued her from – a scummer’s life.’

‘Banks – it’s time you shut your mouth.’

‘Who is this idiot?’

Christine ignores the question. She waits for Richard to press her further, make some demand or issue another threat.

Strangely he remains silent. He glowers impotently at the couple facing him.

Christine looks at Heaven and nods in her direction. ‘You, Fairy Floss – think you’ve struck gold. Wasn’t it a miracle that you encountered this heart-broken and fortuitously wealthy man? You’ve wasted no time giving my home a flash makeover and parking your car in my garage. Was the car a gift from lover boy? Did you think I would vanish – never to resurface again?’

‘Shut up Christine! Who is this man? Why are you here? Answer me Christine! Answer me you dumb whore.’

What a laugh. How easy was this? Richard reduced to a raving idiot and Fairy Floss to a snivelling scrag.
Yet she knows that without Thornton, Richard’s violent outburst could easily have resulted in a nasty assault.

At the hospital Christine has often seen another side to mild-mannered middle-class men when the mask that displays polite public behaviour is pulled away. She has seen too many frightened women flee from these monsters who turn wild and dangerous behind closed doors. The aggressor often half admits to his violence by claiming provocation. Too often the victim, an abused wife, partner or girlfriend is barely conscious from being battered. Christine has seen enough tearful, hysterical brutes carry an injured partner into Emergency.

Thornton’s presence renders Richard impotent. He resists lunging at the intruder and striking him. Surprisingly he doesn’t issue threats, but slams a fist into the back of an expensive new couch.

Thornton walks up to Richard until he is an arm’s length away from him. ‘Tell me Banks – is this woman you seem to have taken up with a permanent fixture in this house?’

Richard slams his right fist into his left hand. ‘Just you wait slut – you’re going to cop this in your face. Some time when your prince isn’t around to protect you.’
I know where you work and I’ll find out where you live.

A worried expression works its way over Christine’s face.

A wave of pleasure sweeps over Richard and his confidence returns. ‘Go on and worry Christine – I know where you live.’
I don’t, but I will find out.

Her eyes flash fear and Richard smirks.
Gotcha – you can spend the next six months looking over your shoulder. When I find you I’ll rearrange your face.

Thornton produces a micro recorder from his jacket pocket. ‘Thanks Banks – that was one stupid move. All the information we need.’
It will be a pleasure to nail you to the wall arse-hole.

Richard rushes forward. Satisfaction switches to outrage and is now directed at Thornton who catches Richard’s clenched fist in his own hand. Richard strikes with the other fist and again is disarmed.

‘Get your stinking mitts off me – I’ll have you up for assault.’

‘You make me laugh Banks. I’m Christine’s solicitor. You’re legal representative will be hearing from me.’

Under the night sky and street lamps outside of Christine’s house, an armoured knight on horseback canters past. He holds a white flag up high, embossed with a fire-breathing red dragon. The knight rides Victory’s horse.

The words,
Do you see that?
almost escape Christine’s mouth. The figure dissolves into a cloud before breaking up and disappearing completely.

Thornton touches Christine’s elbow. ‘Are you with me?’

‘Did you say something?’

‘Yes – and more than once. You were in another world.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Tonight you won the battle. You claimed victory.’

‘It doesn’t feel like one.’

Although Thornton affirms that Christine handled the situation admirably and Richard is likely to be worried by her next move, she is shaken by Richard’s threats and can’t return to the hospital. Thornton tries to assure her that Richard will not be bothering her and that his words were those of a paper tiger.

Unable to convince her, he jokes, ‘The hospital is probably the safest place to be.’

‘I don’t share your humour.’

‘On another note, I’ve worked up an appetite after tonight’s saga. Would you like to join me for dinner? Actually – I insist. You look worried again.’

Silence fills the space.

‘Just say yes. I’m not going to bill you – just as I said I wouldn’t bill you for attending the drama at your house. Tonight we are going to celebrate our coup.’

‘Thanks for your offer.’

‘I take that as your yes?’

Christine nods.

‘Let’s set the score straight. I owe you Christine. Tonight was fraught with risks. What we achieved tonight could have been a disaster. Instead we’re celebrating.’

‘Enough – don’t you think you’re exaggerating?’

‘You’re in a better position for taking this chance. We have likely shaved months off litigation. I bet we’ll nail Banks and gain you a greater financial share.’

‘Thanks.’

Much of what unfolded that evening is a blur to Christine. She reasons that tonight Thornton, or indeed any man acting as her representative, could have persuaded her to sign her life away. She is beginning to realise that she is too dependent on a man to underwrite her life and make major decisions for her.

‘Now put on a cheerful face. I’m going to treat us to a meal at my favourite steakhouse. How does that sound?’

She feigns enthusiasm. ‘Great, I think I can muster up an appetite to match yours.’

‘That’s the style.’

She listens, laughs and engages in conversation with Thornton. He sums up Richard’s threats as no more than a foot stamping tantrum, posing no real danger to her.

As the evening in pleasant company draws to a close, Christine begins to dread returning home alone, expecting that Richard has hatched some menacing plan. It is unlikely he even knows where she lives, but she is not prepared to take any chances tonight. Returning to the house she once shared with Richard and confronting him has brought on a wave of nausea. She is tired and a nasty email from Richard would be enough to send her mind reeling and make it impossible to sleep.

Thornton’s attempts to persuade Christine to return to the hospital fail. When he realises she is resolute he asks if she can arrange to stay with a friend or family. She explains that her brother is visiting Melbourne and staying at an inner-city hotel. Although it isn’t late she is reluctant to descend on her brother unannounced.

Thornton proposes a solution then insists Christine take up his offer. ‘I will call the hotel your brother is staying in and book you a room there. You can meet up with him in the morning.’

She hesitates; doesn’t want to become a burden where her brother feels obliged to her because she’s falling apart. She declines Thornton’s offer to drive her to the hospital to pack an overnight bag.

At the hotel’s reception Thornton gains the attention of the distracted receptionist. ‘I trust you can arrange a room for my friend.’

His optimistic demeanour and the triumph he won over Richard has rubbed off on Christine. He is refreshing company. His departure leaves her feeling empty; the party over and guests gone. Flat, faded decorations, stale food and half-drunk wine are the remnants of the night’s celebration and the coup.

The hotel where Julian is staying is modern and exudes understated charm without seeming obscenely expensive. Alone in the pretty room, Christine misses Thornton’s company. Anxious and impatient to meet up with her brother, she can’t sleep.

Julian doesn’t answer Christine’s calls. It crosses her mind that he has left without saying goodbye, even though she spoke to him the day before last. She didn’t tell her brother about Thornton’s plan, didn’t want to be talked out of his bizarre proposal. And there was her pride. If the plan failed she didn’t want her brother to think her foolish, gullible and easily manipulated by an attractive, smooth-talking lawyer.

As Christine eats alone she is hit with a sense of isolation she wasn’t aware of until now. Richard’s final betrayal cuts deep. The raw wound has given way to numbness followed by an insidious discomfort. She feels betrayed by time itself that has crept away with small silent steps; a silent thief that has taken away chunks of her life without her even realising.

She asks the twenty-something girl at the reception desk if Julian Francis is staying in the hotel.

‘We don’t give out information about other guests without their consent.’

‘I’m his sister.’

The receptionist punches the computer keys. ‘Mr Francis is staying with us. This is the only information I can give you.’

‘He hasn’t returned the messages I left him.’

‘I can’t help you. I’m afraid it’s hotel policy.’

She is overwhelmed by that same wave of abandonment and raw sting that Richard inflicted on her when he cut her from his life. She asks herself: is this a trick or some malicious and malevolent agent messing with my life? Was Julian charming the way Richard was once? Instead of insulting her as Richard did, has he left without a word?

Worries about abandonment give way to panic. Has something awful happened to Julian? Has she been so engrossed in her own affairs that she hasn’t noticed anything beyond the minutiae of her own world? She cannot remember how long it’s been since she really read a newspaper. Perhaps her brother has met with some grisly fate and is about to become front page news or worse a small obscure item on page nine.

Christine doesn’t notice that the receptionist is watching her and starts when the girl inquires, ‘Is there anything else I can assist you with, Ms Francis?’

‘I’d like a password to access my emails.’

Julian’s message reads: