My Wife's Li'l Secret (9 page)

Around 4 a.m., unable to fall asleep, I brought out my laptop and watched more recorded surveillance footage of Viggo and Olga together.

I fumed as I watched them sneak kisses when the children weren’t looking, grope each other, disappear into the bathroom together and emerge an hour later with just towels around them. Disappear into our bedroom fully clothed, then Olga emerge dressed only in a robe.

I shook my head and gnashed my teeth when I saw Ally knock on the bedroom door, only to be yelled at to go away. Or have her knock ignored.

Even though it was hard to stomach, I could handle the defiling of my marital bed. I could handle the fact that I was a fool and that I had to take some responsibility for falling for their crafty and well-thought of scam, but I couldn’t handle Olga’s neglect and impatience with my children.

Footage showed her screaming at Ally with her hand raised, ready to strike for trivial things, snapping at Becky till she started to cry and sought solace in little Ally’s arms. Olga treated them like waitresses, instructing them to fetch beer, cigarettes, an ashtray, a Coke for Viggo.

That made me so furious, I wanted to storm over to Olga, wake her up and throw her off the balcony. The situation had to end.

The question was: how do I do it in such a way that Olga is forced to leave my kids behind? Or maybe be cajoled into giving them to me and easing herself out of their lives? After all, it was clear she no longer cared to mother my girls.

Then a startling thought crossed my mind; what if she fought me for the kids? I may not be able to use my incest card after all – what if the court granted her full custody of the children for some reason?

The thought of me not being around to protect my kids sent a shudder of fear through me.

That thought scared me so much, I changed my mind about not sharing with Bear and Arena. I needed help, and they were the only people I could trust.

At 5:45 a.m., sleep-deprived but with a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach, I slid out of bed, showered, dressed and quietly slipped out of the house. Leaving my kids in Olga’s care was not something I wanted to do, but I had little choice.

It was raining, the grey and gloom mimicking my mood.

Five minutes later, I was seated in front of Bear and Arena and over a shot of espresso, I filled them in. Both their jaws dropped as expected. Leaving them to exchange shocked looks and re-align their mandibles, I helped myself to more espresso. I was going to need all the caffeine I could get my hands on to continue my dog day.

Arena recovered first. “So, so ….Viggo is …Liefie’s ex-husband…”

My head bobbed. “
May
be.”

“...and not her brother?”

“Yeah.
May
not be.” I waved my index finger at her. “Can’t jump to conclusions. The last time I thought it was incest, and I was wrong. Even though it was a case of out of the frying pan…”

She slapped her forehead. “Ohmygod!”

“Jayzus!” Bear muttered. “What a convoluted scam!

For a few moments, the three of us sat in silence, locked in our morbid and gloomy thoughts, the sound of the rain pelting the windows and patio doors, adding to the disconsolate atmosphere in the Shaw’s dining room.

“You met Liefie in Ukraine, right?” Bear asked.

“Yeah. In a nutshell…I was at a coffee shop. I was there on business. One morning, I turned around and bumped into Liefie. Eh, Olga. She was with her brother, Viggo or Cruikshank. At first I thought it was her boyfriend or husband, but she quickly informed me that he was her brother. Set the record straight right away, come to think of it.”

“Huh, huh…”

“Then she invited me to coffee, we went on a date. A couple days later, I met her parents and one thing led to another and…” I shrugged. “We got married and had Ally. She was eight weeks pregnant with Ally when we married.”

“And her parents?” Arena asked.

“Well, they died nine years ago? Apparently.”

Bear cocked his head and looked at me. “They died nine years ago, so those two old folks who lived in your house were …?”

“The fuck I know!”

“Man, I feel like I’m in the twilight zone,” Bear said. “Is she even Liefie?”

Arena leaned in and wagged her finger at me. “Wait, what I want to know, Rich, is who are they visiting in Sydney? Viggo and Liefie?” Her eyes narrowed. “I mean, who is this Yuliya girl? Have you met her?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“’Cause I’m one dumb motherfucker.”

Another silence followed.

“You could go to the cops,” Arena said.

“And say what?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Tell them your suspicions?”

“My
suspicions
? Proof is what I really need.”

Bear darted his index finger at me, “Hold on with the cops. Don’t alert anyone just yet. Hold on.” He sounded like he had a plan.

We spent the next hour marveling at Olga and Cruikshank’s ingenuity. You have to give credit where it’s due – they were brilliant.

“I’m confused as to why she didn’t bring him over under the same pretense earlier on, though?” I said. “Why wait so long to do it?”

“Mm, maybe he was in prison or something?” Arena said.

Bear cleared his throat. “We need to check out this Yuliya girl. Got a feeling we’ll find out more if we do.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said and stood up.

At the door, I turned to them, a sullen look on my face. “Have to tell you, I am a tad offended that you both did not say that I
wasn’t
a dumbarse.”

Arena cocked her head and looked at me. “What?”

“Earlier on when I said …”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Arena quickly said, “You’re not a dumb motherfucker, Ritchie. Not at all. No, no!”

We both turned to look at Bear, eyebrows raised.

He stared blankly at me.
You’re one big dumb motherfucker.

Arena elbowed him in the ribs.

His wave was dismissive. “Oh, no, you’re not a…a…” He stopped and grinned at me.

Arena sighed, while I just laughed at Bear being Bear.

****

The day was a blur. With no sleep and so much on my mind, it was ambitious of me to think I could actually work. Concentrating on anything other than Olga and the situation at home was downright impossible.

Every time my phone rang, I jumped, thinking it was Jai.

My appetite had vanished, I was physically exhausted, emotionally drained, and I had the urge to go home, crawl into bed and sleep.

As I stared out of my office window, my mind drifted back to the day I met Liefie in Ukraine.

I was in Odessa for a week, sourcing out stuff for a business I had planned to run. I had my breakfast at a tiny coffee shop that offered friendly service, even though the couple running it barely spoke English. They knew the words ‘bacon’ and ‘coffee,’ and the food was hot and fresh – that was sufficient to take me there every morning. They got to know me so well that I didn’t even need to order. I just had to show up and sit down, and my breakfast would be ready for me in five minutes. I was a heavy tipper, which made them eager to see me walk through their doors.

One morning when I stood up from my chair, I bumped into a pretty lady, causing her to spill her coffee all over her clothes.

“I’m sorry!” I said, hastily handing her a couple of table napkins, horror all over my face at the sight of the coffee stains on her white shirt and white skirt. “Really sorry!”

“That’s all right,” she said in English. She gave me a sweet smile.

I glanced at the man behind her. “Allow me to pay for both you and your husband’s coffee,” I said in an apologetic voice. “Please!”

“Oh, no, no, no!” she corrected. “That’s not my husband, that’s my
brother
.” She gave a little laugh at my mistake. “And no, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh…sorry again,” I said, looking at the brother. “For…both mistakes.” My smile was sheepish.

He nodded, something between a grimace and a smile on his face. “Is all right,” he grunted. “No problem.”

“Thank you,” I said, “Thank you very much. But I still would like to pay for your coffee.”

“Well,” the lady said, her eyes flitting between her brother’s and mine, “I guess…okay, but only if you join us?”

I looked at her pretty blue-grey eyes, waist-length brown hair,  long legs and perky tits and said, “No, thank you.”

Um, not quite.

“Absolutely!” I said. “Sure thing.”

When she smiled, her eyes shone, and I couldn’t help thinking that she was one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen.

“I’m Olga,” she said, putting out a slim, delicate hand.

I shook her hand and quickly dropped it, feeling a little shy.

She gestured to the man behind her. “My brother, Viggo.”

I stuck out my hand. “Good to meet you.”

Viggo pumped my hand, but said nothing.

“Unfortunately, Viggo speaks little English,” Olga said, gesturing to a seat.

Over coffee, I learned that she was a final year Bachelor of Science student, with plans to become a Registered Nurse. She loved books and would rather be a librarian any day, but nursing would pay a lot better.

She was really easy to talk to, and what I liked most about her; she wasn’t going gaga over me.

This might sound egotistical, but women hit on me all the time. I’ve never had to look for a date, they just came to me. But I was shy. In fact, growing up, I was so painfully shy, I couldn’t even look in the mirror. So the girl who persevered in her chase usually bagged me.

But I grew bored of women very easily. I was looking for brains more than beauty. I had a penchant for intriguing women who could seduce my mind, not just my body. Add a homebody to it and you had me.

With Olga, I thought I had hit the trifecta. Not only did she have beauty and brains, but she also appeared to be a family-oriented person. She was twenty-one and still lived with her elderly parents.

“I take care of them,” she explained. “They took care of me, now it’s my turn to take care of them.”

How could I not fall in love with her? On the spot? I took care of my Mum when she was dying of cancer, so my values and Olga’s values were a match. I thought.

As we talked, Viggo excused himself and went off. Needless to say, he was not missed by either of us.

Coffee turned into a three hour session, followed by lunch at the same coffee shop.

I spent more than six hours at the coffee shop with Olga that day, but it felt like five minutes. Time really does fly when talking to a lovely creature. Of course, work had to be put on hold because of Olga. Olga could hold a conversation, talk about anything, while being easy on the eye. But best of all, she drew me out. Not in an interrogating manner, I must add, but in a genuinely interested manner.

I found myself wanting to tell her about my world, my life. Wanting to share things with her. “One day, I plan to write a book about my life in SWAT,” I confessed.

Her eyes widened. “Really? That sounds wonderful. Your life sounds fascinating compared to mine. I’ll buy your book for sure!”

“You don’t have to buy it; I will gift it to you,” I said.

“So, have you got a guide to show you around Odessa?”

“No, but I’m looking for one,” I lied. “Are you …offering?”

She smiled and cast her eyes to the floor, then looked up at me.

We both laughed.

“Sure. Absolutely. It would be my pleasure.”

We spent the next seven evenings together and by the end of the week, we were in love. We only kissed after day five, and we never slept together during those seven days.

It was strange for me to wait five days before I kissed a woman. It was even stranger for me not to sleep with a woman after spending seven days with her, yet it all added to the intrigue.

It also gave us time to get to know each other without the complications of sex.

Finally, she took me to meet her parents.

Their house was tiny, a bit run-down, and sparsely furnished with old, tattered furniture. Her parents spoke no English, and according to Olga, they lived mainly off the vegetables from the garden.

After I got over my shock at seeing how poor they were, I felt sorry for them, especially sorry for Olga.

Her mother and father seemed really uncomfortable with me around. Language barrier, I told myself.

After some gut-scorching home-made vodka, Olga and I hurried out of her parents' place, hand in hand. That night for the first time, we spent the night together at my hotel, and it was beautiful.

She
was beautiful.

After that slow start, we moved fast.

Even faster, a mere six months later, Olga and I were married in a simple ceremony in South Africa. She was two months pregnant with Ally, and I couldn’t have been happier.