In Jeopardy Page 16

  Julian appeals to her to go to bed, but she is unable to, so he offers her a drink. ‘Will it be a coffee, herbal tea, hot chocolate?’

  ‘A camomile if there’s any left.’

  Julian brews a pot for them to share and adds a plate of sweet biscuits.

  She looks into his equally tired face; he looks away. A few tense seconds pass. ‘What happened today with Elliot?’

  ‘We played chess. When I invited him to stay for dinner, he declined. Hours later I didn’t hear his usual evening activity; no running or boiling water. I knocked at his door, there was no answer. I banged several times before he responded with a groan. When he answered the door he was wobbly. I helped him to a chair, asked if he had eaten. He was slow to answer, but confirmed he hadn’t, on account of not being hungry.

  ‘He was listless and his skin had turned an ashen colour; he looked terrible. You know the rest – I took him to the hospital.’

  Julian dismisses last night’s saga as a hiccup.

  ‘That can’t be repeated.’

  ‘How do you prevent an elderly man, or anyone, from becoming ill, having an accident; or dying?’

  She lowers her voice almost to a whisper. ‘Elliot’s casual treatment of today’s event doesn’t surprise me.’

  Julian shrugs.

  Christine returns with brevity that prevents Julian from responding. ‘He has become world weary as his mind and body fail him. Do you think he cares if he dies?’

  ‘You’re overreacting aren’t you? Elliot didn’t come to any harm.’

  ‘Not this time. Some time, with or without supervision, a repeat of yesterday could be fatal at his age. He’s a walking time bomb.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean you need to work yourself into a state.’

  ‘I have responsibilities.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean you have to bust a gut.’

  Dealing with the sick is a burden I don’t think I can stand for much longer. ‘I hope you have enough stomach to hear me out.’

  He nods.

  ‘It pains me that you’ve stayed in Australia.’

  Julian looks away and gazes intently at the fruit bowl.

  ‘And consumed by my own troubles I haven’t thanked you enough for all you’ve done. I couldn’t have done more for Elliot tonight than you did. My mind struggles between half-believing in my good fortune that you have returned to Australia, that we have reconnected, but in staying I worry that you’ve left your life in London on hold.

  ‘Elliot’s turn has worsened my guilt. He’s an old man trapped in a failing body and medication he takes creates as many problems as it addresses. It’s my bet in his most lucid moments he is racked by guilt that he’s a burden. There are times he probably wishes to die.

  ‘I’m also trapped in my own purgatory. Ending my marriage is grindingly slow and exhausting.’ She feels that she has outgrown her former existence as Richard’s wife. It’s an old skin I want to shed then move on.

  ‘This charming home and refuge from the hospital has, ironically, become another shift.

  ‘I want you to consider going home to your work and the friends that I am hijacking you from. You can’t keep carrying me from one crisis to the next. Thornton is still waiting for information from Richard’s solicitor and reckons they’re stalling. The Blacks have been away for almost two month and are unlikely to return for several more. I don’t want you to stay here indefinitely on my account – it wouldn’t be fair.’

  She pauses, waits for Julian to speak and when he doesn’t she asks, ‘Are you here for any other reason than dealing with my problems?’

  He doesn’t answer this question and she resists asking him about his relationship with Lucy. She imagines that when he returns home Lucy may be in a relationship with another man. If there is a chance for them to be together she doesn’t want to compromise this.

  ‘I don’t mean to be rude – I’m tired – can we talk about this some other time?’ He leaves the kitchen and disappears into the corridor.

  She remains at the table and draws up a plan to better manage Elliot.

  It’s just gone daylight when she hears Elliot stir. She knocks at his door, hears him shuffle awkwardly then open it.

  He ignores her enquiry about his welfare. She expects he is selectively deaf.

  ‘I gave your brother a scare last night. Tell him not to worry.’

  ‘I’ll fix you something to drink.’

  ‘No – you sit down.’ He points to a lounge chair. ‘I’ll make you a cuppa. I can still do some things – only not so well these days.’

  She accepts his offer, understanding that he wants to manage his own affairs. She fears that he will self-medicate to end his life in a dignified and expedient way, rather than suffer as his body continues to deteriorate.

  He makes an impressive show as host, struggling with one cup at a time and his walking stick. On the last trip he returns with a plate of biscuits. She doesn’t want Elliot to feel that he’s a burden to them and suspects he is embarrassed by last night’s episode. She picks up a biscuit and crunches on it. ‘Nice shortbread – did you bake these yourself?’

  ‘Do I look like a biscuit maker?’

  She laughs. ‘What does a biscuit maker look like? Has Julian told you he lives in London?’

  ‘He did – he’s always telling me. He must think I’ve got dementia.’

  ‘It’s my guess he’s homesick. Did he tell you he’s stayed in Australia longer than planned?’

  He looks at her disbelievingly.

  ‘We need to make an alternative plan in the event that my brother leaves before Morris and Fiona return.’

  She guards against her plans being a blow to Elliot’s dignity. She also hopes that what she is about to propose won’t offend him, but knows that if she presents her plans as a fait accompli he may be.

  As she speaks he rests the cup on one hand holding the handle with the other. His face wears a blank expression and his eyes look through Christine. ‘I guess you’re going to contact Morris and tell him what you’re going to do. You might impress him enough for him to extend his trip.’

  His humour disarms her, but she imagines herself being tied to a duty-bound situation where work and home life become inseparable and stretch out indefinitely into the future.

  The morning passes and she survives on the odd biscuit and cups of tea. When she stops to catch her breath, it strikes her that she can’t remember how many weeks have passed since she drank alcohol. More frightening, this hasn’t been as a result of discipline. Has she exchanged one self-destructive habit for another?

  Julian emerges minutes before midday and she is ready to collapse. Numb and wasted she isn’t hungry and doesn’t feel any discomfort from the dirt and sweat that clings to her skin.

  ‘How long have you been up?’

  ‘A couple of hours – can I fix you a cup of tea?’

  ‘I hope you’re not going to work today.’

  ‘Shift doesn’t start until late evening.’

  ‘Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?’

  ‘I haven’t had time to draw breath.’

  ‘So the truth comes out.’

  She returns a shocked look.

  ‘Sit down before you collapse.’

  ‘Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?’

  ‘Right now Elliot is a ball of fire compared to you. You can’t work today. I won’t let you. I am going to call the hospital and let them know you’re ill.’

  ‘There’s no need. I’ll be okay in a few hours.’

  ‘Don’t fool yourself Christine.’

  ‘I treat sick people. I’d be a bit of hypocrite staying home because I’m tired.’

  He strikes back. ‘I’m forbidding you to go to work today.’

  Too tired to argue, she sighs, ‘I take your point.’

  Chapter Five

  Christine’s mind aches when she wakes up to daylight pushing its way through gaps in the blinds. She didn’t change out of the cloth
es she wore when she collapsed onto the bed. The water bottle on the side table remains untouched. This partly explains the tight band pressing around her head – the result of dehydration. She has no idea how long she’s been asleep. It could be dawn breaking over the horizon or fading afternoon light. The house is empty when she takes a shower, makes cheese on toast and eats it alone in the kitchen.

  The empty house takes on a strange tone. She wonders if Julian has thought about their last discussion and acted on her prompting him to leave. She fears he’s misconstrued her concerns about his welfare as her wanting him to leave. Now she wishes that he stay, even for a short time, knowing that when he finally returns to London she will miss him dreadfully. She worries that she’s been callous, aloof and ungrateful and that this is how he will remember her.

  She finds Julian, Elliot and the spaniels in the garden under the oak tree that dominates the yard. Early spring sun heats up the day. They are unaware that she is watching from the edge of the driveway. One of the dogs chews at an old shoe while the other pesters Elliot to throw a stick for it to fetch. She is touched by this scene. If she didn’t know, Elliot may well be Julian’s father.

  Julian looks up at her and smiles. ‘You’ve slept for an age.’

  She joins them for morning tea.

  Christine reluctantly attends the doctor’s appointment Julian made for her. She summarizes all that happened since she left Richard. He tells her she is suffering from burnout, prescribes her a week off work, hands her a certificate then instructs her to make another appointment before she returns to the hospital.

  She nods agreement.

  He continues, ‘I recommend you take up yoga or another form of relaxation.’

  She despairs at the thought of spending a week being idle. Elliot’s emergency plan is in place and Julian who is occupied maintaining the house and walking the dogs doesn’t understand her despondency when she reveals that she is on sick leave and at a loose end. She insists that the doctor exaggerated her condition.

  ‘Did the doctor explain why you need to take time off?’

  ‘I don’t recall. He only made vague comments about me needing rest, being jaded and exhausted.’

  ‘He couldn’t have made it clearer.’

  ‘I get a week off, no clear diagnosis, no warning of problems and a sheet of instructions I don’t need. I work in an Emergency Ward. Some of the people we attend to may die without treatment.’

  ‘If he said you’re facing physical collapse or a breakdown, would you believe him?’

  ‘That sounds like unnecessary worry. Tons of people cope with work and a marriage breakdown.’

  ‘But you don’t have to suffer alone.’

  ‘I have you in my life, and I hope you can stay a while longer.’

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘I’m grateful.’ She bites back her words then releases them. ‘What will you do if you return home and Lucy is in a relationship with a new man?’

  ‘I’m not romantically involved with Lucy.’

  The following day Julian returns from the regular morning walk with Scott and Zelda with an assortment of magazines. He drops them on the table. ‘These are for you to flick through to help fill up your day.’

  She twists her nose at them and utters, ‘Thanks.’

  On her last day of sick leave, she returns to the doctor who finds her improved and confirms she can return to work. He asks if she has followed his recommendations and she tells him that she has been walking and plans to swim laps at the local pool.

  ‘Ms Francis, it’s important that when you return to work you continue to manage your stress levels; that you avoid lapsing into the same patterns that brought you here. Your exercise program will be of little benefit if you don’t address your stress levels.’

  ‘My work is not a lifestyle choice. Before my husband left me it was – now it’s necessary.’

  ‘Do you work just to pay the bills or does it mean much more to you?’

  ‘Until recently my work was my life.’

  He frowns. ‘Dedicated to your profession. However, it is my medical opinion that your work is an addiction.’

  ‘It’s not a luxury, or an addiction as you put it.’

  ‘I’d like you to consider reducing your hours – certainly in the short term.’

  ‘That won’t go down too well with the hospital.’

  ‘Your stress levels are a concern. However, whatever decisions you make it’s important you walk your own path. If you remain in full-time work you must not hammer yourself as I suspect you do, that you don’t work at an impossible pace, carrying the load for others. If you continue to live as you have, your health and wellbeing are in jeopardy.’

  Back at work she is restless, gripped by brooding dissatisfaction. After staff changeover the day leaps into activity and is sucked away by an endless string of medical emergencies. Going home in peak hour traffic or when the roads have emptied hours before or after midnight, her mind escapes into a void. All that exists outside the car appears as a blur, life and events unfolding outside this private bubble happen in another dimension. Half aware of her surroundings she wonders if an invisible hand steers the car from work to home.

  Weeks later it becomes difficult to walk daily or swim laps at the pool. Between the hospital and Elliot, Christine’s plans disintegrate. He neglects to tell her he has been afflicted by a cluster of vague symptoms, as he dismisses these episodes as normal and prevalent in old age. Her physical state alternates from her pulse racing to being weary as if weighed down by years added to her life.

  She wakes in fright, unable to return to sleep with wild imaginings. She dreams that Elliot’s apartment grows cold as each familiar sound from it disappears. A long wait, until morning reveals that Elliot is cold, and beyond revival. She doesn’t know whether the next scene is a disjointed continuation of the last or what she sees when she wakes. Elliot stands in front of the closed door. He doesn’t have his walking stick, is younger, smiles, raises a hand and waves goodbye.

  She closes her eyes, opens them again; the figure has gone. She is afraid that the dream is a premonition and dreads the thought of breaking the cruel news to Morris and Fiona that Elliot has passed away.

  Thornton contacts Christine, confirming that Richard has a three-part share in a sizable trust fund. His superannuation policy has a healthy balance and one that is more than double hers. He informs her he hasn’t been able to track any large withdrawals from the various accounts Richard holds. Thornton has no doubt that her estranged husband has shifted large funds of money that he hasn’t yet located and suspects these are in offshore accounts.

  She resigns herself to accept that this will be a difficult exercise to persist in, more expedient to cut her losses and claim her share of the equity she knows exists.

  Before ending the phone conversation Thornton tells Christine he’s put together a written proposal outlining the course of action he advises her to take and that he will post this today. He requests that after reading his written correspondence she make an appointment to see him.

  Without being pursued, an unusual piece of information presents, giving new insight into Richard’s wealth. The Blacks have daily papers delivered to the house. Since the boredom of old age had set in, Elliot has been in the habit of scanning the deaths and obituaries in search of news on absent friends and enemies who have passed away. He claims this activity gives him much pleasure: ‘When you find out someone you dislike has gone the world feels like a better place, even if only for one day.’

  Christine and Julian discover Elliot’s hobby one mild Saturday over breakfast in the garden. Julian brings out the papers.

  Elliot snatches the main sections of the Herald-Sun and the Age and thumbs the pages to the ‘Deaths and Funerals’ section. He says, almost to himself, ‘Has someone I don’t like died?’

  Julian laughs, half-shocked.

  Christine lightly rebukes him, ‘Isn’t that a bit wicked?’

  Elliot
rubs his hands then laughs out loud. ‘Everyone’s got enemies girl. You have some, don’t you?’

  Julian takes the paper from Elliot. ‘I might find reason to celebrate.’

  ‘I can’t see any humour in this childish game. I’m not listening.’ She blocks her ears, feigning disgust.

  Julian shouts, ‘Christine, you might be interested!’

  She turns and gives Julian a hard look. ‘Celebrating someone’s death is no joke.’

  ‘I’m serious Christine!’

  ‘I witness death and dying every day – it’s not pretty.’

  ‘It’s a guaranteed certainty that you’ll be interested.’

  ‘Is Richard dead?’ She is shocked at having uttered these words.

  Julian waits for her to continue.

  She points at Elliot and then shoots Julian another hard look. ‘It’s your fault – you fools planted this idea into my head.’

  Elliot narrows his eyes at Christine. ‘Do you know an Edmund Banks?’

  Christine’s eyes widen. ‘I have to read this revelation for myself.’

  The news doesn’t appear in the columns listing deaths and funerals. It’s a lengthy obituary written by a member of the Melbourne Club – Richard Banks.

  Christine’s former and late father-in-law was a longstanding member of the club and an influential man who sat on the boards of a number of prestigious companies. He was also a benefactor and campaigner who supported a number of charities. The news encapsulated in the obituary reveals how little she knew about this man she was connected to for almost a decade. She wonders how much of her opinion of him was coloured by her relationship with her estranged husband. She assumed that Richard bore the mark of his father who had been instrumental in shaping his views and values.

  Edmund Banks’ obituary is printed three weeks after his death. It includes a photograph and lengthy article outlining his achievements and contribution to the community, and the citations and investitures awarded to a person with significant social standing. She suspects that her estranged husband didn’t inform her about the passing of this event to avoid drawing her attention to the likelihood of his increased wealth. The trust would be split two ways, therefore, Thornton must be informed about this new development. Despite this revelation she feels it is unlikely that her solicitor will uncover the truth behind the web of lies that Richard, his legal representative, and possibly his late father, have master-minded.