In Jeopardy Read online

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.

  Chapter Three

  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.

  ‘Richard?’

  ‘No – this is Christine.’

  Without another word the female caller hangs up.

  Moments later Richard’s phone chimes ‘Eye of the Tiger’ and stops after five rings. There it is sitting on the desk under the cut glass lamp. Christine picks it up and reads the message on the screen: Where are you? I phoned your room. That woman answered.

  Christine switches off the phone. She pulls open the bar fridge in search of something strong to drink, pours herself a straight rum on ice. She sits at the desk, gulps the contents from the glass and stares at the message on the phone for what seems like an age. She picks up the phone again, scrolls back and reads previous messages. There are one, two, three messages from the same woman.

  She is unaware that Richard has appeared and is watching over her shoulder before he snatches the phone from her.

  ‘What the f—k are you doing?’

  Her heart skips a beat, delayed thoughts translate into words. ‘You scare me when you creep up behind me. How many times have I told you not to do that?’

  ‘F—k you – stay out of my life! What’s on my phone is none of your business.’

  ‘When a strange woman keeps calling you I have a right to know about the details.’

  ‘Quit the snooping.’

  ‘Amuse me – invent another one of your stories.’

  ‘She’s just a colleague from work.’

  ‘The same one, the she-devil who abandoned the project you had to rescue?’

  He storms into the bathroom without another word; the silence closing in becomes heavy and suffocating. Christine runs from the room to escape the ugly scene.

  She enters the ‘Ladies’ in the lobby to splash water over her burning face. Instead of finding a refuge she bursts in on the chime of excited voices before slipping into a lavatory cubicle.

  Two women stand chatting. The tall blonde with a sharp bob wears corporate navy and an exuberant scarf of tropical colours. The other is short and thin with long, swishy hair, one side caught up in a dazzling fuchsia hair clip, matched with a floaty chiffon dress, black patent stilettos and a short black satin jacket.

  ‘I can’t imagine why he had to bring her here.’

  ‘He’s married. That’s not a complication he can just edit out of his life.’

  ‘They fell out of love ages ago and besides, it’s not as if they have any children.’

  ‘Is that what he said?’

  ‘Not in those exact words. I just know it’s over.’

  ‘It’s never that simple. I bet he hasn’t said anything about leaving her or kicking her out.’

  ‘He told me she doesn’t love him anymore – meaning that it’s over.’

  ‘He’s brought her to Sydney and we’re meeting her tonight at dinner. It doesn’t sound over to me.’

  ‘She’s a ball breaker, the bitch insisted on coming. How could poor Richard refuse?’

  ‘I’m looking forward to meeting her, she sounds interesting. Richard Banks doesn’t strike me as ever being desperate or foolish enough to marry anyone. It’s my guess he’s in charge in that relationship.’

  ‘What would you say if she has horns and a tail?’

  ‘Now that sounds scary.’

  They both burst into a spray of laughter. The blonde follows with jagged and excited braying before becoming breathless and gasping for air.

  Christine’s face flushes red charged with shame then anger. She wants to cover her ears to block out the torment, burst from the cubicle, out onto the street away from this nightmare. Instead she remains listening as her face burns.

  They walk out. Christine strains to hear their voices as they fade behind the closing door.

  In an attempt to stifle tears welling up and prevent them from spilling down her face, she shuts her eyes. She hears and sees a bolt of lightning strike a tower, glass and bricks shatter into tiny pieces spilling over the ground. Her eyes are still closed when she feels a large hand shove her violently as if attempting to push her from a great height.

  She opens her eyes and there is nothing there. This sequence of images mirrors the disturbing truth that has been thrust on her in its raw ugliness and brutality. Christine wishes she had remained in Richard’s company despite his unpleasantness. This would have allowed her to accept the illusion she had created about her marriage, rather than another one of Richard’s cruel betrayals slapped hard into her face by strangers.

  The lobby is a blur of chaotic scenes colliding into each other.

  Without her noticing, Richard touches her left elbow; she jumps back. ‘There you are. You left the room without a word. Where have you been?’

  She turns her face away from his attention. ‘Do you really care?’

  ‘Don’t be like that.’

  She turns to meet his gaze and runs an insolent look over him.

  ‘If looks could kill – Christine.’

  ‘Earlier, upstairs, you subjected me to a battery of insults.’

  He touches her arm again, only this time clenching it under his hand. ‘We’re having drinks at the bar, come and join us and meet some of the people who we are dining with tonight.’

  Despite Richard’s outward appearance of genteel charm, Christine would rather that the ground open up and swallow her. ‘I’ve some holiday reading I’d like to start; I’ll meet your colleagues tonight.’

  He points to the bar lounge beyond the long marble reception desk. ‘If you change your mind we’re sitting over there.’

  Christine looks to where he points and there she is; staring at them, wine glass in hand, as the group, another woman and three men, talk. She is incongruous, a baby doll, draped in silver chains and rings to match that painted face, finished off with a glittering head piece catching that curtain of hair. The other woman’s short silver mop teams well with black and is softened by a string of pearls. She blends
well with the men’s suits.

  ‘There’s the mystery caller; the likely explanation for our cancelled trip and your strange behaviour lately.’

  He shifts himself to block Doll-Face from Christine’s view, hisses through clenched teeth, ‘This is not the place for you to start up with your accusations – creating another scene.’

  ‘Who is that woman staring at us?’

  ‘What woman?’

  ‘No more games. You know who I’m talking about, the one dressed for a party.’

  ‘Don’t grill me in public and make a spectacle of yourself.’

  ‘No one’s making a spectacle. It’s inconvenient that I care – or does that disturb you?’

  Christine turns and walks away from Richard then turns to face him again. Their eyes lock for an instant before he turns and walks towards the group.

  Despite his bridled rage, she maintains the appearance of composure, deflecting his cruel words by feigning indifference. This was the greatest lie about their relationship. Instead of confronting him, demanding he explain himself further, she always walked away. This time she wants to break his face and rip chunks of hair from Doll-Face’s skull then watch them both reel in pain.

  Heartbroken, humiliated and angry, Christine is still prepared to endure Richard’s carelessness towards her. She isn’t about to hand him over to Doll-Face. The duel has just begun and she is up for the fight.

  Having returned to their room, unable to read or flick through the hotel’s magazines, Christine paces from door to window before she collapses onto the bed. Behind closed eyes she is haunted by visions of strange and menacing places. Disturbing landscapes reflect her waking life and the frightening reality that she is helpless as her life spins out of control.

  She plans her next move. There will be no more questions, Richard hates questions. There will be no more interrogation or argument. She will win him over with charm and grace, determined to endure his infidelity as she always has, refusing to surrender him to a woman young enough to be his daughter. Tonight Christine will take on this challenge; she will dazzle and out-sparkle Richard’s bit on the side.