In Jeopardy Read online

  It’s too late to scour the city for a new outfit. The ivory maxi teamed with the black patent sling backs, a necklace of multiple stringed faceted onyx beads, black diamond ring alongside the diamond cluster. Finally she will wear the wedding band and engagement ring. This will serve to remind the she-devil who I am and what my husband spends on me. I have the advantage of being tall, long-limbed and able to wear a full length gown with an open seam above the knee. Christine bought this latest outfit following the cancelled trip. It was a small compensation for her disappointment.

  She slips into the hotel’s beauty salon, it’s almost empty. The hairdresser washes and blow waves Christine’s hair then applies makeup. Tomorrow she will buy another outfit and jewellery that will reflect the style and opulence that only serious money can afford. She will wear a harlequin or fire opal that will catch the light under a night lit room, decorated in white linen, crystal and flickering candles. Such an opal will dance. She will be the belle of the ball and will show up Doll-Face’s style for what it is – loud and tasteless.

  Richard is sitting on the edge of the bed, his back half turned, staring into a glass of red, unaware that Christine has returned. When she touches him on the shoulder and rubs his arm he springs up and away from her, wine spilling onto the carpet. ‘You freaked me out. Now look what you’ve done!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Christine calls housekeeping. Richard walks to the bureau and wraps his hands over the top of the chair. She resists the urge to run her hands through his hair, wary of triggering another defensive outburst. ‘Richard.’ She repeats, ‘Richard.’ She places a hand on both shoulders.

  He throws his hands up into the air. ‘Don’t touch me!’

  ‘Richard, let’s put this unpleasantness behind us, it need never be mentioned again.’

  ‘Don’t you get it yet?’

  She looks at him, feigning incomprehension. The conversation she heard earlier in the lobby bathroom clarifies the situation beyond doubt. ‘I don’t need to pry further.’

  ‘F—k you – do you need me to spell it out?’

  A brooding tense silence permeates the room. Christine’s earlier resolve to challenge her rival with confidence and the assurance she will win has faded.

  She waits for Richard to tell her what she dreads to hear. He is about to turn her world upside down, abandoning her with impunity as she has often feared he would. She thinks he can insult her and feels the sting of his own words rebound, perhaps not now but sometime in the future. Words said today become our past, and the past is always there to spring back and strike. This may well be the fate that Richard creates for himself. She expects it will end as it always has, when his apology presents in the form of a piece of prized jewellery.

  He punctures the silence and her thoughts, ‘Don’t you have anything to say? No questions?’

  ‘No.’ Christine’s head throbs; her thoughts become crashing waves under a stormy sky. She moves to the window sill and looks out. A flash of lightning strikes from the sky smashing into a towering city building, leaving it strangely unmarked. In rapid succession three knives fall from low cloud cover scudding across the sky.

  ‘It’s over, we’re finished.’

  ‘Just like that! Why did you bring me to Sydney to tell me this?’

  ‘We fell out of love long ago. I’ve met someone else and I’ve fallen in love.’

  ‘With a girl young enough to be your daughter.’

  ‘What else do you know?’

  ‘That’s all I know. She has a name; doesn’t she have a name?’

  ‘It’s Heaven.’ He uttered this without hesitating and as if to convince Christine as much as himself that this time he’s dispensed with her forever.

  She recoils with distaste. The name gives the impression of a girl who plays the role of a fragile and innocent child walking in Richard’s shadow. Underneath the mask lurks a temptress. Would this she-devil seal his fate? Her heart pulls in different directions, memories of her marriage flood the crowded space in her mind. The wordless room closes around her becoming airless, suffocating and unbearable.

  Details decorating the room have become a blur of images. Some are magnified and distorted while others morph into menacing pieces of ugliness. The painting of striped magenta and white orchids leers at Christine. Bright light throws itself against the wall and threatens to burst into flames.

  ‘There’s nothing more to say.’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘I’ve booked another room for you in the hotel.’

  ‘How kind, did you think I’d be grateful?’

  Richard rubs his hands together then vigorously scratches his arm. He shoots Christine a look through narrowed eyes. Teeth clenched, he hammers out the words; ‘You are to pack yourself out of this room. You can take my offer, or make your own arrangements.’

  Christine walks away as if wanting nothing more of Richard. As she packs she tries to block him from her mind, feigning indifference, oblivious to his existence. She stops at the door. He rushes up to her, ‘Can I take these to the lobby for you?’

  ‘Save yourself the trouble.’

  ‘We can talk about this later.’

  ‘Can we? In your own words, there’s nothing else to say.’

  Chapter Four

  Leaving her luggage at the lobby Christine collapses into a lounge chair in a dark abandoned corner at the bar. She stares at an empty space for what seems to be hours. The concierge arranges a taxi to the train station where she books a ticket home, leaving Sydney the next morning. It takes every fragment of Christine’s nerves to maintain her composure. She has always felt refreshed by Sydney’s colour and exuberance. Now it becomes a jangle of deafening noise; a collage of lurid pictures erupting from behind a camera flash. It’s not new for Christine to feel alone; her sanity teetering on an edge.

  She wraps the light coat she is wearing tighter against the early evening and fading warmth then walks to the harbour empty handed. She blocks out the dense, crowded streetscape.

  She pushes her way through crowded streets and across traffic flying through intersections. She races along streets that narrow closer to the harbour, then stop. The waterfront stretches along the coast. Beyond steep streets with terraced rows of red brick houses, clusters of modern eateries and bars, she hears the hum and clatter of the city’s edge. The waterfront meets an expanse of sky; the coastline bends into a deep crescent its tip touches the Opera House and Botanical Gardens.

  She sees an image drop from the sky. It bursts through crimson streaked clouds and floats above a path. Bats plunge from trees; birds crowd the emptying space, their noise deafening and piercing, then soar upward, disappearing into the darkening evening. The breeze dances with the mass of gold hair trailing behind this figure. Sapphire eyes flash at Christine’s mind. ‘You’re special, you just don’t know it.’

  The figure holds an enormous silver chalice ornately etched with the scene of a meandering river filled with floating lilies, dolphins and playful fish in the water. A mermaid caught in an oyster shell sails down the river. Still suspended above the earth the figure moves closer, offers Christine a look into the cup she holds. It is filled almost to the brim with water that sparkles like cut glass under fading sunlight. A voice from within the cup speaks, ‘Your sorrow is not as dark as you imagine. Trust that things will turn out better than you expect.’

  The strange being fades to a faintly etched image against the sky before breaking up into indistinguishable cloud.

  Christine follows the path away from the gardens, away from the water and towards the bridge. She stops at a cobblestone cross surrounded by manicured grass. Another figure appears from low clouds rolling across the sky. Hovering above land and over the cross this figure dances above earth’s chaos, detached from man-made drama and misery.

  Wild hair sweeping from behind, she is almost naked except for a purple scarf winding its way around her neck and body. One end floats in the breeze above her the other trai
ls behind her feet. She twirls two wands, one in each hand then points one at Christine. She says, ‘Don’t despair,’ as she dissolves.

  Christine blinks and she’s gone.

  Alone and away from home Christine doesn’t feel angry, doesn’t feel cheated, although she knows she should. She can’t understand that although she has done nothing wrong she has been so wronged. She is lost in a situation she has no control over and knows this is the end of the familiar world.

  She rushes away from the quay filled with crowds waiting for ferries to take them home, crowds strolling into restaurants and bars or into night lit retail hubs to shop. Christine despairs at human suffering and the banalities of life. She wants no more of this. The darkening sky offers her a cloak of invisibility and the anonymity she seeks.

  She returns to the waterfront. Moonlight reflecting on water leaves a path for Christine to follow. Far from crowds and alone she sits on rough damp earth and wraps her coat against the freshening air. The water rolls in from the bay, hitting the embankment and abandoned fishermen’s pier before being sucked back into the ocean. The wind sings and plays with bands of trees. Beyond the waterfront nocturnal creatures scurry across the ground, into the bush and up scaly tree trunks.

  Bruised and humiliated by Richard’s latest assault Christine is desolate, thinking that when the sun rises she will face Richard’s betrayal in its raw ugliness; naked, exposed and under a microscope. She expects she will become the victim of curious and well-meaning questions. Awkward silences and attempts to spare her feelings will become knives plunging into an already raw wound.

  Then there will be the memory of Richard abandoning her that will refuse to fade. Christine knows that her relationship with Richard is far from over. She knows he isn’t going to show an abandoned wife mercy. Legal proceedings will be put into place to extract me from his life with as little cost to Richard as possible.

  Standing to the left of a pillar of the harbour Christine peels off her coat, kicks off her shoes, plunges into the water and swims furiously away from the coast without looking back. She dives deep beneath the surface into the water’s blackness. She becomes weightless as she is effortlessly drawn to the dark, empty vortex at the bottom of the ocean.

  The peace is ruptured by a force that grabs Christine and pulls her to the surface. She panics and struggles against something much greater than herself. The swirling energy loses its force and gives way to a tunnel of blinding light that strikes the water’s surface. She spews up oily water. Salt burns the back of her throat and mouth as she coughs it up. She has been retrieved from the ocean, rudely pulled from a place of peace.

  She treads water at the foot of a great cross of light. A faded figure in front of the cross blows music from a trumpet, removes the instrument from its mouth and points to where the bridge meets the land. A path lights the way to the water’s edge. ‘Go back Christine.’

  The figure vanishes. Did I, along with my hopelessness, fall into a watery grave before being hauled out by something mysterious?

  On dry land she finds her coat and shoes. She strips off drenched clothes, shivers, her teeth chatter and water clings to her skin like sticky tendrils. She wraps the coat around her body, the only dry clothing she has, and slips her feet into the shoes she left on the sand.

  She returns to the train station and baggage department. The attendant who checked in her bags is still on duty. His eyes widen when he sees her. He is speechless and unable to break his stare for some moments.

  ‘I’m Christine Francis and I’ve come to collect my baggage. Where’s the bathroom?’

  She thanks the attendant and freshens up before she waits for the morning train and the long haul to Melbourne. The journey is a blur. She gazes out of the window; the geographical features of the landscape become nebulous and indistinguishable. She thinks she is not unlike patients drugged up on painkillers, beyond despair, clinging to a life they seem to have lost control of; vaguely aware of what unfolds around them.

  As if immersed in a fog, the crowds at Spencer Street station appear indistinguishable. Christine collects her things.

  She is disoriented from the train bounding along the track. Her head spins from seemingly eternal swaying carriages.

  Back in Melbourne, she is alone, lost and with no one to turn to for help. Then, without knowing why, anger stirs in her. She punches one hand into the other, at Richard and his careless neglect and abandonment of her. She had become accustomed to the beginnings and endings of Richard’s romantic dalliances. She fears this one has her hooks into him, has staked her claim on him and isn’t going to give him up. What am I to do this time?

  She has no defence to deflect the volley of shots that Richard and his lover will no doubt fire at her. In Sydney both of them had shown her a nasty hand.

  Her parents were the glue holding her family together until they died instantly when crossing a city street. They were struck down by a drunken driver who failed to stop at the red light. Christine’s brother and sister are eight years older than her. Both of them left home when she started secondary school and returned to Christmas and other celebrations when these coincided with some other reason to return to Melbourne.

  Diana lives in Perth and they keep in contact by phone and mail. She hasn’t met Richard. Diana didn’t attend their wedding; she offered an elaborate excuse then wished Christine well. She was shocked by her sister’s decision.

  Diana continues to send cards for birthdays and Christmas. She has two children, Natasha and Lawrence. Since they started school Diana sends pictures and videos of school performances, Natasha’s ballet concerts and Lawrence playing soccer. She writes to Christine inviting her to stay with them in Perth, assuring her they have a large house. Diana vows she has no intention of returning to Melbourne following their parents’ deaths.

  Julian has lived in London for the past twenty years, works as a foreign correspondent and lives in the apartment he owns in Chelsea.

  Before Christine met Richard she visited London and stayed with her brother. He showed her some of his favourite haunts and treated her to meals in classy places. Some of these events were interrupted when he rushed away to attend a news story or other project. Julian arranged the trip on the Flying Scotsman to York where they were to spend a day in that city before returning to London. The following week Julian left for overseas.

  Since then their contact has been fleeting and reduced to the occasional phone call. Like his twin, Julian, religiously sends Christmas and birthday cards. His greeting is always followed with, ‘If ever you need anything contact me.’ He has never said, but Christine suspects, that her brother doesn’t like Richard.

  They met briefly before Christine married Richard when Julian came to Melbourne to help finalise the sale of their parents’ house. It was rented for some years because no one could face the raw feelings that stirred from being in the family home. Diana was reduced to tears and hysteria at the very suggestion of returning after being involved in tidying up their parents’ belongings. Julian, who had power of attorney, took on the task of selling their parents’ home, administering then distributing their modest estate before returning to London.

  Contacting Julian is difficult. He often returns calls weeks or months later after returning from a project in a faraway place. He doesn’t mention the details of his life or anything of a romantic nature. Although he is friendly, outgoing and a fluid conversationalist he is aloof and his emotional life closed. Despite this, he is kind and exudes emotional warmth lacking in Diana. He is easy company to wear and gives the impression that you can trust him.

  Christine is disappointed that her brother and sister are largely absent from her life. There are times when she is consumed by sorrow that they aren’t and despairs when things have gone wrong. Neither of them has been unkind to her and when in their company they give the impression that they are interested in her and like her.

  She often wonders what her brother and sister would do or think if they knew
what her relationship with Richard was like. What would they make of Richard’s temper and some of the ugly scenes that have exploded? And although Christine is estranged from her siblings she feels fortunate that she can preserve the idealistic impressions she has created of them.

  However, the great geographical distances that have kept the siblings apart have created awkwardness. Christine continues to decline their offers for her to visit and stay. Similarly, they have always declined her offers for them to visit and stay with Richard and herself.

  She avoided telling them about the drama involving Roland a former partner. She wasn’t going to burden them with details of the brutal treatment he subjected her to when the relationship ended. She only mentioned in a greeting card that they had broken up. Once she has packed herself out of Richard’s life and legal proceedings are in place to dissolve the marriage she will inform Julian and Diana. She will spare them details of the drama and the grisly scenes she expects will unfold.

  Chapter Five

  The taxi pulls up in front of her home. It strikes Christine as foreign and unwelcoming before she steps through the door. She hears the answering machine beep from the front door. Leaving it open, she drops luggage in the hallway to listen to the messages. She suspects that Richard has phoned home. She listens to his three messages then walks away. After hauling her luggage up the stairs she falls onto the bed. Lying on her back she stares at the ceiling, trying to forget recent events.

  She wakes up from disrupted sleep broken by moonlight bursting through the venetians, the dog next door barking, conversations from the street and the odd car speeding before screeching to a grinding halt at the T junction. The phone rings. She blocks her ears until it stops ringing, knowing it is Richard. The magpie who has taken residence in the pomegranate tree closest to the house, taps the window screeching: ‘Get up, get up!’ This quarrelsome, noisy creature has inserted itself into their lives. Richard despises it and its chatty friends, swearing that if he had a gun he would shoot them all. For Christine the bird brings light relief, countering the tension that permeates the house. This magpie has become her alarm clock and without fail at first light it wakes her up. When she needs to get up to attend the graveyard shift the magpie’s screeching reminds her it’s time.