In Jeopardy (2 page)

Richard walks through the front door and calls out, ‘Where are you – darling?’

It’s a small compensation that he holds her in higher esteem than his whores. She closes her eyes, squeezing them shut, wanting to avoid the cheer in his voice. She dreads the polite and bland conversation to follow; his attempts to avoid questions. He drops his briefcase beside the other chair and pats Christine’s head before kneeling down beside her.

‘Aloof again? In one of those unsociable moods? I would have thought you missed me enough to brighten up now I’m back.’

‘I’m pleased enough. Would you care to join me for a drink? What will it be this time, something from the dining cabinet or from the cellar?’

‘What a great idea. Make it a vintage Merlot. Choose something special from the cellar that we can share.’

Christine returns almost dutifully with a tray, the bottle uncorked, two glasses, a bowl of water crackers, and a cheese platter.

‘That looks splendid darling. Who would think a nurse could have such a fine hand with wine and the perfect accompaniments?’

‘It may not be so pleasing that the fridge is bare and I haven’t thought of tea. I’m not hungry but I can order a take-away pizza for you or something fancier if you would prefer; maybe a Thai curry.’

‘I thought you might have missed me enough to wipe away that sulky pout.’

‘I’m tired and dread facing the graveyard shift tonight and I didn’t sleep well.’

‘How about we enjoy this fine drop of wine; we can order something later.’

‘Tell me about your trip.’

‘Not much to tell that would interest a wife about a boys’ trip.’

‘Actually – I’m very interested. In fact I’m fascinated at how much adventure and thrill-seeking activity a man can have dressed in a business suit.’

‘What do you mean darling?’

‘I managed to wash a load of clothing from your trip and failed to find bush-bashing gear. There was nothing that hinted that you went to places too remote to call. I wonder how much insect repellent you drowned yourself in, given you went camping in the last days of summer. I’m dying to see the happy snaps.’

Returning his glass to the tray, he pulls his suitcase from the carpet, drags it onto his knees and flicks the clasps open. Scooping up his phone he switches it on, finds the first of a series of photos and then hands the phone to her. This collection of snaps could have been taken anywhere. No doubt he’s been somewhere out of town and in keeping with appearances he is dressed to hike, wearing walking boots, a broad-brimmed hat, a stone coloured light cotton shirt and pants.

‘Impressive – next time we go to the hills instead of sipping lattés and visiting wineries we could go walking.’

He nods, indicating loose agreement. It doesn’t surprise Christine that Richard has covered his tracks sufficiently to prevent further questions. It would be foolish to probe further. Despite this, Richard has left little doubt that Damien’s cover story and the photographs are part of another big lie.

Days later, the overseas trip they booked to go on is cancelled. Richard wanted to revisit some of Europe’s romantic cities, see urbane, sophisticated places that draw the rich and famous.

Christine had seen enough of Europe and its deteriorating and cramped antiquity, and wanted to experience America’s vast tracts of wilderness. Richard dismissed America as a place full of large generic cities, little more than consumerist enclaves. He shut his ears to Christine’s desires.

With only a five week holiday, time would only permit a brief stopover in America. Richard insisted they visit New York City in order to fit in with the trip to Europe and the marvels and wonders he planned for them to see.

He bursts through the front door slamming it open, running into the front sitting room then calling out, ‘Christine!’ regardless of where she is. He does this when he wants to explain a situation and must force the words out fast enough to prevent being interrupted.

Today he is almost breathless, knowing that tonight Christine is rostered on nightshift. He calls her again, sounding loud and urgent, expecting her to appear instantly. She doesn’t answer then he shouts, ‘Christine – where are you?’

He doesn’t see her sitting in the wingback, reading and hiding behind the daily newspaper, late afternoon sun flooding the room. He drops his jacket over the other wingback, the briefcase onto the chair and stands against the wall, leaning into the mantelpiece over the fireplace and resting an arm over the top. She holds the newspaper up high, pretending she is engrossed in its contents. Aware of his presence she catches a glimpse of him from the edge of the paper, still using it as a prop to avoid him and what he is about to tell her.

He pulls away the paper, rolls it up, places it on the mantelpiece and looks directly at Christine, who shifts her gaze up to meet his.

Without mincing words and without delay she says, ‘Something on your mind?’

His face flushes and he says, ‘I’ve cancelled the holiday.’

‘You’ve what! Why?’

‘I’m sorry, but something’s come up at work.’

‘So quickly and without so much as a word, a phone call, a text message – not even a request to meet you for lunch and discuss the matter.’

‘Don’t be like this.’

‘Like what? You make a unilateral decision without considering other possibilities, at least not with me.’

His jaw drops. He looks like a man struggling to release the suffocating pressure of a rope tightening around his neck. He looks down, avoiding eye contact as if this will enable him to release the pressure and catch his breath. In an almost inaudible voice, the words punched from a keyboard, edited, rehearsed and with precision, ‘I understand your disappointment, but don’t turn this into an inquisition.’

‘Did you expect me to accept this without explanation? I struggle to understand how you can cancel the holiday you meticulously planned, stringing together every highlight you say you’ve always dreamed of visiting or returning to. Does this have anything to do with your recent jaunt into the wilderness?’

‘Don’t start up with that again. And no, there is no connection.’

Christine is filled with a wave of anger that propels her from the chair. She walks away from Richard and the ugly scene he has precipitated then spins around and says, ‘Don’t patronise me.’

He follows her into the kitchen. ‘I had no choice.’

Opening the oven to check the roasting chicken pieces and potatoes, she turns, staring hard into his face, ‘What do you mean? Everyone has choices.’

She walks past Richard to the wine cabinet, pulls out a bottle of common Merlot, and two glasses, pours herself a large one then says, ‘Do you want one of these or can I fix you something else?’

‘Don’t you want an explanation?’

‘Isn’t that what I’ve been waiting for?’

‘One of our contract engineers, a member of the project I have been working on, was assigned to travel interstate next week. He has left the company, breaking the contract.’

‘And how does this become your problem? Couldn’t someone else have taken his place instead of you sacrificing our holiday? Anyway, we’re not leaving for some weeks yet.’

‘I do have a responsibility to the company and this project. Other interstate trips have been pencilled in which overlap with the trip we planned.’

‘You make this sound like it’s okay.’

‘Not okay, just unfortunate. There have already been a number of delays and setbacks. We are months behind schedule. Now the bureaucrats and town planners have approved plans for the new estate we have to just run with it.’

‘And what about our deposit; did you for one minute think about kissing away several thousand non-refundable dollars? Couldn’t someone else have availed themselves to step in for Mr reliable who has left the team in the lurch?’

He picks up his glass and looks down into it. ‘If only it were that simple.’

The duration of this episode has sucked away the remaining daylight, creeping into the evening, and with it both their appetites have ebbed away. Christine says, ‘Are you hungry?’

‘As hungry as you are.’

Ignoring his churlish comment Christine returns, ‘Dinner is cooked and still in the oven. Help yourself and put the remains in the fridge.’

‘You’re treating me like all this is my fault. Don’t you want to hear what I have to say?’

‘I’ve lost my taste for anything you have to say tonight and I have a shift to attend to.’ She walks away, not prepared to listen to another attempt to whitewash another sordid affair. She grabs a cardigan from the closet under the stairs and pulls out her keys. Before leaving she switches off her phone. She knows that Richard will text her, he always does, in an attempt to ameliorate the situation. She drives away under a blurred and inky autumnal sky.

Richard has left for work when Christine returns the following morning, leaving a note:

I’m sorry. I understand your disappointment; we will take the trip sometime in the future, only it will be better. I would like you to accompany me interstate – darling – if my company isn’t too much for you to endure. I’m staying in the centre of Sydney and am sure we can find enough for you to amuse yourself with.

Richard is still in a state of disgrace following the latest episode. Christine accepts his offer as a faux apology without knowing why; again, she’s meekly accepted another saga, knowing it won’t be the last.

From the day she met Richard it was a whirlwind romance and they were married within three months. It would have been earlier, only he was assigned to go on a number of short interstate trips associated with a project he was working on. The team assigned him to represent the company, to meet with town planners and architects, to liaise with councillors and other dignitaries who had commissioned and were overseeing the development.

They were like a pair of drunken teenagers, feasting on each other’s company. Meals eaten in opulent restaurants, movies watched, walks in parks, gardens and city laneways becoming a blur. Days before he left for the first trip he invited Christine to accompany him on, he asked, ‘Wouldn’t you like to cool your heels in Sydney strolling through the cities quaint arcades and drinking in the surrounding antiquity?’

Aside from the fact that Christine was committed to her work and felt a strong sense of duty to patients at the hospital she had a mortgage to pay on her apartment. She could only take leave without pay. Richard insisted on paying the mortgage, claiming this was a pre-wedding gift. Leave without pay wasn’t a problem with the hospital. The charge nurse said the department would cover her absence by giving part-time medical staff extra hours and would rely on nursing agency staff to cover when required.

Nothing prepared Christine for the extravagant accommodation he arranged or the luxuries she was treated to. She was embarrassed by his generosity. It was late night shopping on the final evening of their first day in Sydney. Richard had a surprise in store. He took her on a mystery tour. She had to wear dark glasses he covered with flashy stickers on each lens. Holding her hand he led her along busy streets crowded with foot traffic and cars until she was bitten with more than curiosity and her feet ached.

Richard made a big fuss, asking Christine if she could guess where they were. She had no idea. She hoped it would be some attractive and romantic place ready to offer a starving girl a meal. Instead it was
Tabitha’s
, a prestige jeweller.

He had taken her there not to buy an engagement ring; this would follow when they returned to Melbourne. She was to choose a ring, pendant or earrings, any piece she liked. Initially she selected a fine gold chain with a small medallion. He scoffed at this, claiming he wanted her to remember this day and his mark of affection and commitment as something grander than a common gold chain. He
dismissed another selection she made of a blue topaz pendant. Instead, he chose a round brilliant cut sapphire surrounded by a narrow band of crushed diamonds set in white gold.

They agreed on a quick no fuss registry office marriage. Richard wanted a more elaborate affair at a grand estate then dismissed this option with the excuse that such venues needed to be booked a year or more in advance. He then reasoned this kind of event was too common. The masses gravitated to these grand places, spoiling them and turning the occasion into no more than froth and bubbles. It was more important that there were no unnecessary delays. He reminded Christine that this was a mark of his affection and haste to marry her – make their relationship legal as he put it.

She thought his urgency to hasten the day was strangely old-fashioned. It was not as though they were caught in a compromising situation, where in order to silence scandal and gossip they had little choice. It wasn’t as though a former lover had appeared, presenting as competition for Richard.

He didn’t explain himself, only that he wanted to marry her sooner rather than later. The ceremony took place in a Melbourne registry office, followed by a small marriage celebration at a high society restaurant Richard and his colleagues from the engineering company he worked for dined at. This was a louder, more crowded and discomforting affair than she was prepared for. Work colleagues and friends outnumbered both their immediate families. Christine’s parents were no longer alive, her brother lived overseas and her sister was interstate.

It was long ago and seems like a half-remembered dream. Christine drops into the familiar chair facing the fireplace. Work weary, her legs aching, she shuts her eyes. She crushes the note Richard left her then throws it into the unlit fireplace. From above she sees three swords crossing each other. They unlock, fall and pierce a red heart that materialises before her eyes.

Christine captures the city sights, a fusion of the ultra-modern sky-scraping buildings juxtaposed with remnants of a disappearing colonial past. It’s impossible to not lose yourself in Sydney’s historic streetscapes and precincts. She is tired after a morning cruise on the harbour, a walk through the Botanical Gardens then The Rocks. Returning to the hotel room she collapses onto the bed. The phone rings, she picks it up.