Dark Oil (19 page)

“You're very practical, Mr Norton.” Practical, intelligent, thoughtful, persistent and incredibly attractive, she thought, but of course she would never tell Jack, or anyone else for that matter.

“Well?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Definitely nothing worth staying for. But you'll have to forgive me if I wear the same suit to work every day until my next pay.”

“Well, if you get really smelly I'll lend you a few bucks to buy something. The supermarkets carry very affordable polyester these days.”

“I bet you don't buy your suits at the supermarket.”

He tilted his head, turning to her a little more. “In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not at all materialistic. I buy nice clothes because that's what I'm expected to wear at work. To tell you the truth I think there's nothing quite like a T-shirt and a comfortable old pair of jeans.”

“You're not wrong.” How different he was from her husband. Tim loved to wear expensive clothes, even on the weekends. Burberry, Armani, nothing was too good for him. He wasn't happy without the finer things in life—the leather chairs, the fancy car and especially the latest in electronics—which she couldn't even work half the time. If he'd lowered his expectations, just a little, she could have stopped working years ago and they could have started a family. And now there was the woman in the car, the woman whose presence he had lied about. After the excitement of getting onto the plane, of making it out of Negala, the reality of the situation hit her. What she was going to have to face the minute she got home wasn't pretty. Would he lie and cover up the obvious? Would he come clean? Did he still want her? She had no idea. She felt sick to the stomach. “Are you feeling OK? You don't look that well.” Jack frowned as he examined her, before looking down the aisle. “They're coming with drinks. Maybe that will help.”

“I'm fine. Just a bit tired. I was thinking I haven't called Tim. He doesn't know I'm coming home.” She bit her lip.

“Oh.” Something in the way he paused told her he understood the awkwardness of her situation all too well. “You could always call from Paris when we change flights.”

“I'll do that.” She would ring Tim, just in case. She definitely wouldn't be one of those wives who walk in on their husband with his mistress, who find them skin against skin, hair tangled, cheeks flushed. She'd rather not live with the memory of two naked bodies, the scent of their love-making, for the rest of her life. There were some surprises you could do without.

The steward offered them water and orange juice and a packet of nuts. Lara loosened her seat belt and, sipping her drink, wondered if now was the time to ask. It would certainly take her mind off Tim for a while. “When Alan rang me back you were talking about what happened with Ange.”

Jack blinked a few times and seemed to retreat a little into the safety of his seat. Ange had been married to Martin and maybe, just maybe, Jack had done something to deserve Martin's anger.

For the past few days Martin had seemed hell-bent on warning Lara of the dangers of being on her own with Jack. Perhaps he had reason to, after all. Could you ever trust men? She was beginning to wonder.

Then again, Jack had had ample opportunity to show off his womanising ways with her, if he was that way inclined, and he certainly hadn't crossed the line. Perhaps she just wasn't his type. Or perhaps he had sworn not to mix work and pleasure. More likely, and this was the explanation she liked best, she had sent clear signals to him that she was
married and would never cheat, not even now that she had doubts about her own husband. Two wrongs didn't make a right, they made nothing but mess and mess was the one thing she didn't need more of right now.

But she wanted to hear Jack's side of the story about Ange, so that Martin's incessant digs could be refuted or at least ignored, so that she had no doubts about the integrity of this man she now realised she liked so much.

He scratched his head. “Ah, it's ancient history. Maybe some other time.” He had been ready to open up to her when she'd told him about Tim, but the moment had passed. That was it, wasn't it? Or was he trying to hide something from her? Was Martin right, after all? “Oh, look, alcohol. You want something?” An air hostess was pushing a trolley loaded with wine, beer and spirits down the aisle.

Lara turned up her nose. “I'll stick with water. Alcohol isn't good when you're flying. It dehydrates.”

“Yes, but it relaxes and that has to be of great value when you've been to Negala. Come on.” He patted her hand, nothing more than a friendly gesture, but she shivered. He must have noticed, still was gentlemanly enough not to comment.

He quickly passed her a glass of wine and took one for himself. They sipped their drinks in silence, reclining their chairs for comfort. Soon, Lara felt heavy in a pleasant way as the built-up tension left her body.

She closed her eyes, pushing away thoughts of her problems with Tim, pushing away the worries about her mother, choosing to focus on the fact she would soon be home, safe and sound, in a familiar environment that was neither disease-laden nor under surveillance. Whatever the ups and downs were with Tim, whatever the results of the tests her mother had taken were, that had to be good.

There was still hope for her mother. How many times had people had a health scare, only for it to turn out to be nothing at all? And there was still hope for her marriage, too. Perhaps Tim, when confronted, would come to realise that no one was worth risking his marriage for. He might even beg for forgiveness, recognise it had been a moment of madness and put all his energy into fixing their relationship.

Lara would forgive him, if that were the case. Anyone could make a mistake. She would kiss him, tell him she was hurt, but they would survive. She would find it in her heart to carry on, to keep loving him, to make things better. She could do that, couldn't she? She hoped so.

Tim would come back to her and things would be just like they used to. Yes, Tim would come back to her. A lump formed in her throat as she tried to hang onto the idea, as if it were a plank floating in the ocean. She told herself the damage was not irreparable, but deep down she feared, no she knew, life was not always that easy.

That plank might drift away, leaving her stranded at sea.

The bench at the airport was unpadded, the walls a gloomy grey—uninspiring, yet Lara sighed with pleasure as she sat down. Charles de Gaulle wasn't the most appealing of places, but when you had just arrived from Negala it was bliss. She felt safe at last, and well on the way to getting home. Home where she wanted to be.

She turned on her mobile, hoping there would be a message from Tim. Nothing. She rang her husband's direct line at the office. It was early afternoon in Perth. Tim would be working. When it went to voicemail—Tim must have been in a meeting—– she froze, unable to talk to the machine.

She hesitated, said “It's me, I haven't been able to get hold of you”, but couldn't go on, too scared that when Tim heard her words he'd be thinking of another. She longed to say more, to speak of memories and fears, wanted to tell him how her heart ached. She couldn't.

Until they were face-to-face and she could gauge the situation, measure the depth of the abyss, she decided to keep her desires to herself. The risk of humiliation if Tim rejected her, if he was already in the arms of a lover, was all too real. As she was about to say she was on her way home, the answering machine suddenly cut her off with a shrill beep. It must have been full.

It didn't really matter that much. She'd call again in twenty four hours when they landed in Perth. Actually, by then Tim would have started another day at the office so she may as well call from home after a shower and a hot drink.

Jack waved to her, and then approached as she put away her phone. “Everything OK?”

“Sure.” She felt his gaze on her. He seemed to be examining her closely for clues, reading her like a curious child devours a new book. She tried to smile, but guessed the sad curling of lips failed to light up her face, looking fake and forced.

“Everything's fine,” she added, trying to convince herself, too, that it really was. This thing could blow over. It could be nothing more than a fling, a moment of madness. She even might have caught it before it had begun, nipping it in the bud.

Better still, Tim might have some sort of explanation, a fairy tale ending, although something told her that couldn't be. Her husband of over a decade, the man with whom she had shared her nights and her dreams, had sounded so harsh on the phone. And she had definitely heard another woman, a woman Tim had willingly lied about.

Thinking back, it had been such a long time since Tim had shown Lara much attention. Falling asleep on the couch had been his excuse for not coming to bed with her for weeks at a time. He'd taken to going out with friends, too, without Lara. When she'd commented on the number of “guys' nights out” he'd shrugged it off, saying he needed a little space—what man didn't?

Alarm bells should have been ringing, but they hadn't. Lara had trusted him, blindly, on the assumption he loved and respected her as much as she did him. It was as simple as that. She felt like such a fool.

Martin appeared with a book under his arm. “Let's go, shall we?”

“What did you get?” Lara was curious about his reading habits. A war story or politics was his pick, she guessed. To her surprise he pulled out a do-it-yourself home repairs book. She laughed.

“Mum's coming over to visit next month.” He sounded apologetic. “Thought I'd better fix a few things around the house or I'll never hear the end of it. Still fit as a fiddle and she's going on eighty. She nags me to death.”

“You're lucky.” Lara sighed.

Martin snorted. “Lucky to be nagged? Right!”

“Lucky your mother is still fit. Mine isn't. I must ring her. I've even been tempted to put it off lately. Too scared she might give me some bad news.”

Jack frowned. “Not that bad, I hope? You did mention you thought she might be sick, but I didn't realise—”

“No, no. It's nothing. Just waiting for test results. More tests. . .you know what it's like, when they get older.” Lara crossed her arms. “Ah, parents!” she joked, but she couldn't hide the heaviness that came with worrying about those you love. Martin walked quickly toward the business class lounge, as if he could hurry away from his own insensitivity. Lara and Jack followed in silence. It was time this trip was over, before too much of their own lives were revealed.

They sat together around a coffee table in the luxurious seating area, stretching their legs out as they sank into the leather armchairs. Martin got up to fetch himself a coffee.

“I guess once I'm home I won't be seeing you.” Jack looked away as he said the words that seemed to be costing him.

Lara tried to play it down. “I'm sure we'll bump into each other every now and then.” The truth was they probably wouldn't see each other much back at the office. There had been no need to in the past.

“Maybe we could have a coffee one day.” He sounded calm, but she noticed his hand was shaking a little. It wasn't the Jack she'd known until now, the strong, invincible Jack who never trembled. It brought warmth to her to know that he cared that much.

“I don't drink coffee.” She smiled, hoping he wouldn't be offended.

“A tea?”

“I. . .I'm sure we'll bump into each other at the office.” She didn't want to hurt him, and while she would have loved to spend some time with him, it simply wasn't appropriate. They worked together.

More importantly, she was married, even if her marriage was in trouble. And she liked Jack too much. He had this way of drawing her in, making her feel alive. Seeing him would be far too dangerous. She couldn't put herself in that position. But oh, how easy it would have been with him!

“I'll just go and get something to drink.” He rose to his feet, awkwardly pulling down his jacket as he stood. Quietly, without fuss, he walked over to the buffet. He must have felt insignificant. She could see it in his rounded shoulders and his smaller steps. She was sorry she'd had to reject him and wished she could have held him in her arms to make him feel better.

Martin returned and started reading his book, but Jack stayed away. It wasn't until the plane was boarding that he reappeared. The trio made their way to the gate, prepared for the interminable flight home. They compared their boarding passes. This time they were all sitting well away from each other.

Lara was thankful to be on her own. She was free to doze much of the way, in between movies, and to try not to think of anyone or anything. But every now and then, images of Tim crossed her mind. Images of a younger Tim slipping an engagement ring on her finger, his eyes full of admiration, his tender kiss a promise. Where had that Tim gone? It tore at her heart.

Now and again she thought of Jack and how he'd walked away without a word. She shouldn't have been thinking of him at all. She wished she didn't. She had bigger fish to fry right now, with a husband who might have betrayed her, yet somehow she couldn't help it. Jack was on her mind. It had mattered to Jack that they wouldn't be seeing each other once they got home. It had mattered to him that she had said no to a coffee. And whether she liked it or not, it had been hard for her to do that. For a minute she wished she had more than one life, and that in one of those lives she would be free to experience Jack. The plane landed, after hours and hours up in the air. With sore bodies and exhausted minds, Lara, Jack and Martin each went their separate ways with barely a nod of acknowledgement. “I'll see you at the office,” Martin mumbled before jumping into a taxi. “Sometime tomorrow morning.”

Lara smiled her thanks. The rest of the day and a flexible start the next morning to get over thirty hours of gruesome travelling wasn't nearly as much as she'd like, but for Martin it was generous. As she left Customs she peered through the automatic doors, wishing Tim would be there waiting for her, with a bunch of flowers. He wouldn't, of course, he was at work and didn't even know she was back in Australia. She'd call him when she got home, after a shower and a snack.