In Jeopardy (15 page)

‘Uneventful, except that I bumped into Annie, a colleague. I mentioned her to you before.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes. She’s the one I told you about who is always changing her hair colour and cut and wears funky fluoro accessories.’

‘That’s right – I do recall you mentioning someone who fits that description. What about her?’

‘She put me onto my solicitor, Ben Thornton. Her brother works with him. Today she asked me if I’d patched things up with Richard.’

‘Are you serious?’

She nods.

‘What was she thinking?’

Christine shrugs.

‘Does she think Richard is your perfect match?’

Again she shrugs.

‘Has anyone else asked you this question?’

‘People still can’t believe we’re finished.’

I refrain from expressing irritation at the insensitive comment her colleague made. Over the past days she has avoided alcohol, but given her fragile state it wouldn’t take much for her to turn to the bottle. ‘Your ex, I suspect, has masterfully papered over the gaping cracks in your marriage and fooled others that you had an enviable – possibly perfect marriage.’

‘To others our marriage looked glamorous and expensive. Richard boasted that we sparkled in company. And yes, how we appeared to others was a world away from how things really were. He showered me with gifts then insisted I show them off in public.’

I raise my eyebrows at this revelation.

She interrupts my thoughts. ‘It might be time to change the subject.’

‘Continue – I’m interested, but only if you want to talk.’

She pauses before launching into another account of her marriage. ‘Early one evening before we left to attend a hospital staff Christmas party, I emerged from the guest room ensuite where I kept expensive gifts that Richard had given me. It was a hot day that faded into a sultry evening. I wore an electric blue silk dress that worked well with the gold highlights in my hair, a gold necklace with a cross, wedding band and the black diamond.

‘Before we left he subjected me to a long stare. He said:
Is that the best you can do?

‘I dressed down for this occasion as I didn’t want to stand out against my peers and draw further attention to what my colleagues believed was a privileged existence. I told Richard again that my colleagues weren’t familiar with the showy appearances that our social circle was accustomed to. Few of my colleagues were surgeons or medical consultants and even they dressed down compared to Richard’s friends, acquaintances and colleagues.

‘He bit back, claiming that I looked shabby, insisted we put on some style and show them up. Richard believes keeping up appearances is an art form and for me this was a reminder of the farcical state of our relationship. In public, Richard expected me to maintain the impression of a pampered and adored wife.’

I’ve heard enough about her life with that creep. The real tragedy isn’t so much what her estranged husband subjected her to, but that she meekly endured the abuse. I suspect it is mostly her shame that silenced her. ‘I’m sorry that you have suffered in this way. I don’t know what else to say. It’s time to change the subject…’

‘But, wait – there’s more.

‘I had to wear the usual Richard choice: a skimpy little number that made me look like an eighteen year old going to a night club. Only that I dripped with the kind of jewellery that most eighteen year olds could only dream of.

‘As I was chatting to a colleague my beloved slipped away. I scanned the room and observed that he had attached himself to four visiting physios sitting at the end of the opposite table. He showed a particular interest in Sarah, smiling, laughing and occasionally touching her elbow. It didn’t surprise me that he was dazzled by her striking good looks. She had thick, straight, shoulder length hair, the perfect fake tan to go with it, was tall and athletic with an impressive cleavage. The hot pink number she wore left nothing to the imagination.

‘She flashed a toothy smile, laughed and looked attentively at Richard before her interest returned to her colleagues. She stood up, deliberately holding a packet of cigarettes; her friends then Richard followed her out of the room, his eyes glued to her arse. I thought:
Come-on sleaze bag – you can do better than that.
But all he could do was muscle himself ahead of the young man she was obviously interested in and squeak out dialogue in her ear like a yapping puppy.

‘In the car, on the way home, I grilled him. I said:
You just can’t help yourself – can’t keep yourself away from the eye candy.

‘I was just talking to her, being social to one of your colleagues. What’s wrong with you Christine? You’re jealous.

‘I snorted derisively,
Don’t make me laugh; she wasn’t even interested in you. Can’t you keep it in your pants for one day or wait till we get home?

‘Sleep with you when you’re in this mood – I’d rather watch paint dry.

I shouted,
Stop the car – let me out.

‘Don’t be stupid.

‘I’m serious.

‘You’ll get yourself arrested dressed like that. Worse – some drunken guys will hassle you.

This time I laughed,
As if you care. You never know, I might have an enjoyable evening with someone who knows what they’re doing.

‘He laughed then snorted.
Darling you take things too seriously – you know that I always come home to you.

‘I think you’ve heard enough.’

‘Definitely.’

‘There’s one other thing. Annie asked if you are still here to say hi. She invites you to join us for a chat at the cafeteria – she’s excited to meet you.’

Days pass and we still haven’t found a place for Christine to live. Despite all that she’s endured in her marriage she became accustomed to the benefits of a readily flowing bank account. She admits she is not penniless and her income is solid enough. She explains that she is careful with her money, and this is a Francis trait. Although she lived a pampered existence she did not conform to the clichéd image of the spoilt wife of a wealthy man. Her appearance and how she lived didn’t scream of someone who dripped money.

Many of the places we look at are clean, fresh and modern yet they do not meet her expectations. I envisage this search will be a daunting task.

Frustrated, I confront her over dinner in the guest dining room. ‘Today we looked at three acceptable places for you to live, in one of your desired suburbs, with tree-lined streets. One of them even has a park.’

She looks up from her plate, knife and fork still in her hands. ‘Richard accused me of being budget, said that wealth, privilege and the finer things in life are wasted on me.’

She pauses, ‘Do you think I’m spoilt? Is it unrealistic for me to want to find a place that reflects the one I was thrown out of? I miss my home, and yes, the trappings of wealth. Does this make me shallow and pretentious? I hate it that Richard’s lover is the beneficiary of what is mine.’

I look into her face, pause before speaking as I want to avoid sounding blunt and insensitive.

‘As difficult as it is, you will, at some stage, need to move on.’

I refrain from adding that we will find her somewhere to live when she is more realistic.

‘I’ve been here for over a week and I wonder how much longer my budget can cope with hotel living.’

‘And I’ve lived out of a suitcase for much of my working life. In cities like Melbourne hotel accommodation offers all the comforts of home. Only, places like this are soulless. It’s probably not dissimilar to the hospital residence you moved out of. Here the hotel’s restaurants make it easy to rely on hotel dining.’

‘You were going to say bar, weren’t you?’

‘Those are your words…’

‘You also meant alcohol?’

‘Again – you said this.’

‘It’s what you meant isn’t it?’

I don’t recall exactly what I said, but it hit a nerve. I don’t want to know if Christine still drinks herself to sleep. At the end of the week when I receive the bill I will have a clearer idea. She looks brighter and less tired. Her skin is less pale, her hair cleaner and less brittle. She has started to wear pink lipstick to work and red when we eat out. This is encouraging, despite the pained look etched on her face.

‘I feel ill when thinking about the expense of staying here.’

‘The expense is a necessary evil and a temporary refuge until we find you somewhere more appropriate.’

I drain the dregs of my beer. The mixed drink Christine ordered remains unconsumed.

She stands up and brushes the napkin onto the floor. ‘Not meaning to sound rude, but I’m tired.’

‘Will it be breakfast here tomorrow as usual?’

She nods.

‘Try not to worry about finding somewhere to live.’

Again she nods, but the strained expression she wears says otherwise.

Before I fall into bed I remove my glasses and drop them on the desk. I look in the mirror at my red-rimmed eyes, rub them then stop, remembering Christine’s warning it will only make them worse. I have avoided mentioning money, the value of Christine’s house and if she has any idea of the final sum she can expect to gain from the settlement; these are questions for another day.

I settle the bill with the hotel. Christine didn’t drain the bar. She consumed an assortment of spirits with fruit juice and I guess she had taken these to help her sleep. I can’t comment on her diet before she moved to the hotel. It is likely she skipped meals, ate light and on the run which partly explains why she gives the impression that she could be lifted up and carried off by a gust of wind.

She’s in the dining room. I enquire about her wellbeing then inform her that I’ve paid our accommodation.

Her face whitens. She throws me a pained look. ‘That’s not right. Do you think I’m a charity case?’

Silence pervades as I refrain from comment.

‘I’m sorry – thanks Julian.’

‘It’s the least a brother can do.’ It’s wicked how he abandoned her and I’d seriously like to hang him for it.

‘Again – thank you – I won’t forget your kindness.’

She looks away from the table setting to somewhere in the distance. Uncomfortable silence falls over us before her attention returns to the table. She coughs into her hand and half speaking into it says, ‘I can cover short-term hotel costs.’

‘What about your legal bills?’

‘I pay Thornton’s charges by monthly statement as I want to avoid a massive legal bill. Cash I saved living at the hospital has covered these so far.’

‘Has your lawyer estimated costs and a settlement timeframe?’

She shakes her head.

‘You must ask for these details. Apart from the foolish plan your solicitor orchestrated to burst in on Richard, what’s his next move?’

‘A sworn valuation is necessary but not urgent.’

‘Did he say why?’

‘He said other matters are more pressing.’

‘Did he tell you what these are?’

‘Thornton suspects that Richard has hidden bank accounts and assets. He has applied for a forensic audit.’

‘This sounds like a lawyer’s tactic to spin out legal proceedings and drain the client’s bank balance.’

She coughs into her hand again. ‘He also thinks it’s possible we will resolve our differences and get together again.’

‘Tell me you’re not serious!’

‘He says it wouldn’t be the first time a warring couple got back together again.’

‘Does this man have any other bright ideas?’

‘He seriously believes Richard is disguising substantial wealth and I assume this to be true. The paltry sum he offered me was designed to impress on me to take the money and run before he made life with him impossible for me to stand.’

She tells me their house is worth a bomb. A matter she was half aware of before her solicitor presented her with house values in the expensive area she lived in. Her estranged husband has a stake in a three-way trust his parents manage. Her solicitor is convinced, and has convinced her, that she has no idea of her estranged husband’s true worth.

‘Richard has lied to me since the beginning of our relationship. Until Thornton demanded his superannuation balance I had no idea I was entitled to this information.’

Although Christine’s naivety doesn’t surprise me I must appear shocked. I gasp, grunt then cover my mouth.

‘Each time I asked Richard about our finances he snarled:
Remember, I deal with these,
or,
this is a private matter – stay out my affairs.

‘Have you told Thornton this?’

‘Make no mistake about Ben Thornton, he dragged out every last bit of information about our finances.’

She pauses, sighs, and then talks without hesitation.

‘A few years ago – I can’t recall exactly when, Richard insisted we have separate bank accounts. Our pays went into separate accounts since we were married, but we did have a joint one, and several share portfolios. These financial changes coincided with Richard becoming more secretive. It was clear this strategy enabled him to more easily disguise his indiscretions and betrayals. When I questioned him he said:
I must protect our finances against your drinking. You can drain your own
account, but I won’t allow you to drain mine.
I wanted to smash his train collection, knowing that this would hurt him more than angry words. I stayed silent, knowing the extent of his power over me.

‘I had nothing, and everything to lose. It would have been the right time to walk away. There was no point threatening to leave. I suspected that this is what he wanted.’

She pauses then coughs into her hand several times. ‘I stayed because I didn’t want to leave my comfortable existence. Our material wealth didn’t matter so much. It was the elevated social status I married into that was hard to walk away from. I asked myself, had living with Richard made me spoilt and it troubled me that I had become shallow and pretentious.

‘I judged others in much the way Richard did. I considered Diana stuck-up and aloof, and I was proven wrong. Despite Diana and Paul living a comfortable middle-class life they aren’t showy. The children go to modest private schools unlike the kind of schools children from families in our social circle go to. They don’t own flash cars. Richard would have judged Diana and Paul harshly. He would tolerate you only on account of you not having a family, as Richard hates children and this is why we don’t have any.