The Affair (11 page)

Someone who didn’t appear to appreciate Mark’s thoughtfulness to Nina was Amanda. It seemed to Nina that whenever Mark, or even her own husband, paid attention to her during a family discussion, Amanda would bristle. If Nina dared
voice an opinion about wine, Amanda would cut in and talk over her. Nina thought she got the message. What would a Canadian know about Australian wine?

At first Nina had been hurt. She didn’t understand the other woman’s coolness and wondered what she had done, if she had offended Amanda in some way. At other times, Amanda would sidle up to Nina, link arms and give her the impression she wanted to be her very closest friend. She would ask about Nina’s life in Canada, how she liked Australia. She would place her face just inches from Nina’s, looking her over, which always made Nina squirm inside. Nina didn’t believe Amanda was really interested and would answer her questions warily, waiting for Amanda’s attention to wander, which it inevitably did. As a result Nina never trusted Amanda and was unable to relax in her presence.

Most of all, Nina didn’t like the way Amanda behaved with James. She was overfamiliar, placing a hand on his arm when she spoke to him or laughing too loudly at something he said. She always seemed false. Sometimes Nina caught Amanda staring at James, turning away when she became aware of Nina’s gaze. And just as Amanda seemed to resent Nina’s participation in family business discussions, Nina sometimes was left with the impression that Amanda resented her very presence. But then, in an instant, like the flick of a light switch, she would be all smiles and enthusiasm. It was confusing.

Amanda was in complete social mode when they arrived, hugging Nina warmly to her like a long-lost friend. Nina and James, who had barely been speaking before the family arrived, presented a united front, smiling a cheery welcome that they did not feel.

Laden with hampers, rugs and toys, they all wandered down to Rushcutters Bay Park. James and Mark strode ahead, choosing a huge plane tree to settle under. Nina looked about anxiously. She would have preferred to be further away from the Cruising Yacht Club but she couldn’t think of a single logical reason that she could present to James as to why this spot wasn’t absolutely perfect. They were already touchy enough with each other. The air between them was frigid. Nina hoped Amanda wouldn’t notice. Looking all around the park, she laid out the rug. Amanda was watching her with eyes like slits.

‘What’s wrong with you? Why are you so jumpy?’

Nina immediately felt guilty, caught out. But that was so stupid, she told herself. She had done nothing to feel guilty about. ‘Sorry, Amanda, I’m just a bit hungover this morning. What were you saying?’

Amanda was not so easily deterred. Her eyes ranged over Nina’s face in a way that Nina was coming to know well. Amanda stared intently at the fidgeting woman in front of her, then looked across at James.

Nina hunted around desperately for something
to say that would divert her attention. She really wasn’t in the mood for her sister-in-law today. ‘Oh, look at Lachlan. He won’t fall in, will he?’

It did the trick. Amanda’s head spun around to locate her eldest son. He was leaning over the sandstone seawall, his stubby little legs kicking in the air, watching a dog swimming in the shallow water. He looked perfectly balanced and relaxed but Nina knew Amanda wouldn’t see it that way. Amanda sprinted across the grass calling out sharply to her son, scattering the flock of birds in her path and disturbing every other picnicking group. But she didn’t care. In fact, thought Nina, it was unlikely she even noticed.

At least it gave Nina some peaceful moments to herself. She laid out the salads and meat plates she had prepared. Snatches of conversation drifted to her from Mark and James. James sounded defensive.

He was always like that with Mark. Nina couldn’t understand why. She didn’t think it was rational. Mark, it seemed to her, was a gentle soul, used to the slow country life. He deferred to James on anything to do with the city and business. Mark knew just about everything there was to know about wines but you had to spend a lot of time at Wilde Wines to know that. Mark was self-deprecating and humble. ‘You’ve seen the world, little brother. I’m just a country hick. You know more about business than I’ll ever know,’ he would say admiringly.

James should have taken such comments as his due but he didn’t. In any discussion with Mark
about the family business or wine, James would become tense and defensive. Nina couldn’t make sense of it.

The children provided a welcome distraction through lunch, talking constantly, spilling their food and making it possible for the adults not to address each other directly. Nevertheless, Nina felt strained and on edge.

A young woman carrying a cage in one hand and a large basket in the other took up a position near them. Nina watched in fascination as she settled herself. She spread out a rug, unravelled a long electrical cord she had fashioned into a lead, poked it into the cage, and attached it to whatever was inside, then carefully lifted the lid. Nina expected to see a cat jump out. But instead there was just a mound of motionless brown fur. The woman, oblivious to the curious gaze of Nina and other onlookers who also had started to watch her unusual antics, continued with what appeared to be her weekend ritual, unpacking the newspapers, stripping down to her bikini and lying down to soak up the sun. The mound of fur stayed still and the young woman paid it no attention while she turned the pages of her newspaper.

The boys started to bicker and Amanda rebuked them sharply. Her voice was shrill. Nina didn’t think she could bear it one minute longer and before she realised what she was doing, she had leapt to her feet.

‘Come on, boys, let’s go and see the nice furry animal,’ she said with a smile.

Amanda looked surprised, then grateful.

Nina took a boy’s hand in each of hers and walked them across the grass. The mound turned out to be a very shy rabbit.

‘I live in a high-rise apartment so I bring him down here to run around on the grass, but he is so timid he just stays curled up in there,’ explained the young woman with a sigh. ‘I have to run around with him to get him to do any exercise.’ She was English and happy to talk.

The boys took it in turns to pat the rabbit. Nina marvelled at how quiet and respectful they were. But the bunny still looked terrified, huddling in the corner of the cage.

‘It’s the doggy smells, I think,’ said the young woman. ‘He can smell them all around him and that’s why he won’t come out.’

They chatted about the rabbit until Nina was aware they had outstayed their welcome and should really let the woman get back to her newspaper. When they returned to the others, Mark was asking if James remembered a friend from school, William Nichols. His father owned a sheep farm in the Riverina. He had boarded with Mark. They were in the same year. It took some prompting but finally James could picture him.

‘Red-haired guy?’ asked James. ‘With really skinny legs. A swimmer?’

‘That’s him,’ said Mark. ‘Always won the swimming races.’

James nodded.

‘Well, it looks like he has lost the lot,’ said Mark.
‘You know his father died and he took over the farm?’

James nodded.

‘Well, he put it up as security with Lloyd’s, the insurance company in London …’

James sat very still, staring at his brother.

‘… and was in a syndicate that has been called on for the payout. Apparently he is up for a fortune. It looks like he will lose the farm.’

James felt the sweat break out above his upper lip. He didn’t want to brush it away. He suddenly felt self-conscious and didn’t want to draw attention to himself in any way. His ears thudded as the blood pounded through his veins. He could see Mark staring at him, expecting him to say something but he was frozen, unable to respond. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He just stared, the tic beneath his left eye beating wildly.

The change in mood was palpable. Mark wondered what he had said this time. His brother was so prickly. It didn’t seem to matter what Mark said, it was the wrong thing. Had he forgotten some old feud between James and William Nichols? Had James dated his sister or beaten him at footy? Mark felt momentarily exhausted by the effort of finding safe topics to talk about with his brother.

Nina was also looking at James, noting how ill he looked. She wasn’t surprised. She had wondered when those tequila shots would catch up with him. The spicy Italian sausage he had just eaten probably hadn’t helped.

Amanda had not been paying attention to the
conversation, noting instead Nina’s bare unpedicured feet. She was critical of James’s wife. She shared some of her observations with Mark but was careful not to go too far. He seldom had a bad word to say about anybody and didn’t like it when Amanda did. Indeed, he would have been surprised if he knew just how intensely Amanda disliked their new sister-in-law. Suddenly aware of the silence, she stared blankly at James, wondering if she had missed something important.

James felt all their eyes on him. To him they were accusing, knowledgeable. He felt them boring into him. His breathing became shallow and his chest tightened with the strain on his lungs.

Finally Nina broke the silence. ‘Honey, are you going to be sick?’ she asked.

She explained that at 3 am that morning he and Felix had been merrily downing vodka shots. Mark remembered his brother’s drinking buddy Felix and laughed, relieved he wasn’t the cause of James’s sudden agitation. Amanda smiled politely and turned her attention back to Nina’s feet. Really, they were too big. Unfeminine, she thought.

James looked gratefully at his wife. ‘You’re right. I don’t feel so good. Perhaps we should go.’

Everyone immediately stood up, agreeing that it was time to leave.

When they were alone at home, James and Nina turned on the television news. They were both exhausted from the weekend and sat in companionable silence. James looked at the screen but paid it little attention. He was thinking about
William Nichols and wondering why his brother had mentioned him. James’s own troubles with Lloyd’s were just a little too close for comfort. Did he suspect something? James shuddered. He felt the chasm opening up in front of him.

His mind moved to safer ground. Nina. She had saved him again. She always did, whether she meant to or not. He thought about her inherent goodness and what a lucky man he was. He put an arm around his wife’s shoulder, while continuing to stare at the television.

He didn’t know how to articulate these feelings and would be uncomfortable trying. They didn’t come in neatly defined snatches. Rather, he felt his love for Nina as a warm wave that washed over him and rendered him mute. He felt humble and grateful. He also felt terrified and shamed. Terrified at what was going to unravel and shamed because he had done it – to his family and to Nina. Trusting, loyal, loving Nina. How could he tell her? He couldn’t stand the thought of that trust and admiration fading from her eyes. His mind switched back to the file of papers in his briefcase. He felt cold all over.

He wouldn’t tell her. Perhaps there was a way out of this mess and she would never have to know. He was clutching at straws and somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, he knew it. But he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself just yet.

After dinner he took his briefcase into the study, closed the door and carefully laid out the
papers that Felix had given him. Somewhere amongst them there must be a way out.

Nina was surprised to hear the door close. For a moment, when James had put his arm around her shoulder, she hoped he might be coming back to her. For the first time in a number of days, she had started to relax, thinking that they might be falling back into step.

But just as Nina had relaxed and the resentment of the past few days had started to melt, James had removed himself and shut her out. He may as well have slammed the door in her face. That’s how she felt. The loneliness and anxieties of the past few days welled up again inside her. She felt tears prick her eyelids. She wished she had someone she could talk to. A girlfriend. A parent. A neighbour. But there was no-one.

All those people who knew her best, and supported her, were back in Canada. Now she had just James. And the sad realisation was dawning that, in fact, she didn’t have him. He was miles away from her. She wondered again if he was having an affair. If he had stopped loving her, if their marriage had been a mistake. The thoughts weighed down her heart and she felt very alone. She remembered her mother pressing the Canadian notes into her hand. They were in a sock in her bottom drawer. She had been troubled about putting them there without James’s knowledge. Now they gave her comfort.

A familiar face rose suddenly in her mind’s eye. It was grinning ear-to-ear with a lopsided cheeky smile that made her feel so good. Her tears stopped.
The vision comforted her. She did have a friend. Kind of. He was more of an acquaintance really but she felt intuitively that he would become a friend. A vague twinge of guilt returned but on closer inspection it seemed silly. Why should she feel guilty? Because he was a man? She shouldn’t, she decided. It was just friendship she was contemplating. Good and simple. But what good did it do her? He wasn’t here either. Nina wondered when she would see that funny mad man again. She didn’t doubt that she would. Her confidence surprised her. Where did that come from?

The TV droned on. Behind the closed study door all was quiet. Nina flicked around the stations unable to settle on any particular show. She looked at her watch. It would be early morning in Eyebrow. Her father would already have been up for an hour or so. His day started before dawn and ended at dusk. Her mother would be in the kitchen making him a hearty breakfast. Nina decided to ring them. It was probably a bit early but she desperately wanted to hear her mother’s voice.

James sat very still behind the closed door of his study. In front of him his briefcase lay open, the Lloyd’s file staring up at him, ominous and accusing. He could hear the muffled sound of the Sunday night movie on the television. Last Sunday he and Nina had curled up together on the couch to watch it. His biggest problem then had been how to convince her to watch the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. He had had no idea of the impending doom. Feelings of failure rose up, like bile from his gut. He had thought he was such a hot shot. Oh, hadn’t he felt like Mr Big that afternoon at Lloyd’s of London with Felix. He remembered holding his breath as the glass elevator had taken off, three-and-a-half metres a second, quietly and effortlessly propelling them upwards to
the top of that awesome building, Number 1 Lime Street, London. At the top the impressed Aussie lad – just 25-years-old – had looked out over London, 27 kilometres in each direction, the city literally at his feet, believing he was a master of the universe. Here I am, James Wilde. Are you ready for me, world?

James and Felix and a group of ten other potential ‘names’, plus the three insurance agents responsible for bringing them there, had been taken on a leisurely tour of the vast steel-and-glass Lloyd’s building. Their fellow recruits were from America, South Africa and New Zealand. Felix and James were the only Aussies and, as James noted to Felix, almost the only ones to have a full head of hair.

‘We’d be the youngest by at least twenty years!’ whispered James. That idea appealed to him. Just 25 and already he was doing business with the movers and shakers.

The group tour started in the middle of the vast ground floor, surrounded by hundreds of brokers and underwriters shuffling paperwork and talking together, doing deals and moving millions of pounds around amongst themselves. Some spare millions for a new Arab airline fleet, a share in a reinsurance premium for an American shipping line. Who wanted some action? The sheer enormity of the figures being bandied about boggled James’s mind as he followed their guide, an attractive young broker, Miss Leanne Dunn, in a conservative blue skirt suit, through the open trade room.

She pointed out the Lutine Bell hanging beneath four huge ornate wooden pillars in the centre of the room. Centuries old, it was traditionally rung whenever a ship went down or was rescued. It could be seen from every corner of the ground floor by every Lloyd’s employee, a reminder of their heritage as insurer of the world’s greatest shipping lines. James revelled in the history and solidity of it all.

‘Fifteen thousand people come through our doors every day to do business using the asset base of 22,000 names,’ said Miss Dunn. ‘We insure everything from an actress’s legs to a shipping tanker.’

‘Including the
Titanic,’
whispered Felix. ‘Cost them a fortune.’

The American recruit was panting with excitement. He was in his fifties with a high forehead and so much hair, James decided it had to be a toupee.

Miss Dunn smiled at him. ‘And we insure Bruce Springsteen’s vocal chords. Any damage to them and we are his first port of call.’

The American looked even more impressed. James was worried the man’s chest would burst if he puffed it out any further. The group moved up the escalators to the next floor, gliding up the bright yellow conveyor belt, with James keeping his eyes on the Lutine Bell till it disappeared from sight.

‘Woody Allen once said that the worst thing in the world is to have dinner with an insurance salesman,’ said Miss Dunn. ‘This building makes insurance sexy.’

James had to agree it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Then it was into the lift, the glass-walled lift that took James’s breath away. Up to the twelfth floor, all marble, where the chairman and deputy chairman presided. The chairman was clearly visible through the floor-to-glass walls, sitting at his huge desk, head down, attending to matters of monumental importance.

James got the unstated message. Nothing was out of bounds to a ‘name’. When you became a name you became part of this awesome, powerful Lloyd’s family. James felt like it was his birthday and he had just been given the whole of London for a present. He tried to be nonchalant, and not look too impressed. He realised he was failing when Felix elbowed him in the ribs, whispering, ‘Shut your mouth, James, you’re drooling.’

Miss Dunn pointed out a collection of Terence Cuneo paintings in the chairman’s anteroom. James had never heard of Terence Cuneo but knew from the tone of awe used by Miss Dunn that he should be impressed. So he was. She explained that Cuneo’s specialty was hiding a mouse in each of his paintings. She invited them all to find it, then stood back, a smug smile on her face.

James peered at the enormous picture. It filled most of the wall behind the security guard and showed the opening of the previous Lloyd’s building, built in 1957. The Queen Mother and Princess Margaret were surrounded by hundreds of women in elaborate evening gowns and men in ceremonial dress. James studied the painting, sure he would be
able to find the mouse, but eventually they all admitted defeat.

Miss Dunn was delighted. She pointed to a pot of flowers on a table in the foreground. James looked again. A tiny mouse was peeking out from the flowers.

‘You will find a mouse hidden in each of these paintings,’ said Miss Dunn in the clipped tones of an educated Englishwoman. ‘It was Cuneo’s little joke.’

Felix rolled his eyes as she moved on.

‘Cuneo’s conundrum. How twee,’ he said so only James could hear.

Even though it was Felix’s first visit to the new Lloyd’s building, which had only opened the year before, he was taking all this wealth and prestige far more calmly than James. Miss Dunn, sensing James’s mood, said quietly so that only he could hear, ‘I have worked here for five years and I still get hairs on the back of my neck every day I come to work. It really is magnificent.’

When they reached the eleventh floor James nearly lost it, so overwhelmed was he by the unexpected grandeur of the Adam Great Room. Used by the Council of Lloyd’s, it was also where they brought prospective ‘names’ to complete the necessary paperwork.

James gave up all pretence of cool. He was agog at the splendour and magnificence that faced him. Inside this ultra modern, industrial-edged building was the completely intact original 1763 dining room from Bowood House, one of England’s most
stately homes. James stared about him, his head swimming as Miss Dunn explained how the room had been bought at auction by Lloyd’s and moved, piece by piece, including architraves and ornate mouldings, to be reinstalled inside their city headquarters. Priceless artworks lined the walls. Three enormous cut-glass Georgian chandeliers provided light over an eleven-metre boardroom table.

Even Felix had to admit he was impressed.
Finally,
thought James. A liveried waiter ushered the group into the room and invited them all to sit down at the highly polished boardroom table. Miss Dunn handed them over to Mr Nicholas Tuckfield, then withdrew to organise tea.

Mr Tuckfield was stiff and grey-haired with a dark blue suit, double cuffs and Lloyd’s cufflinks. He sported a striped regimental tie. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent. He sat upright in his high-backed chair, melding into the fabric so that he could almost have been part of it. He looked like a headmaster at a posh boys’ boarding school and James suddenly and irrationally worried that his shoes were muddy.

Mr Tuckfield introduced himself as a senior working name and the rota committee chairman. Next to him sat his clerk, another pasty-faced dark blue-suited gentleman with an array of papers in piles spread out before him.

James thought they could have been undertakers, so sombre was their manner. But he was too overawed by the magnificence of his surroundings to be capable of verbalising any smart comments to
Felix. Seated alongside James and Felix, stretching the length of the highly polished boardroom table, were the ten other new recruits and their agents.

Over the next hour Mr Tuckfield conducted the formal proceedings, explaining how the syndicate system of Lloyd’s worked. There were 33,000 individual members, arranged into just over 400 syndicates that underwrote various policies.

There were 37 forms to sign. After explaining each form Mr Tuckfield asked in a grave tone whether the recruits understood that they were accepting unlimited liability. He looked each of them steadfastly in the eye as he spoke.

‘Down to your last cufflink, gentlemen,’ said Mr Tuckfield.

Surrounded by enormous oil paintings of ancient ships ploughing through rough oceans, James felt he was writing himself into history as he signed his name with a flourish at the bottom of each page.

Finally, his hand cramped from endorsing so many documents, James returned Miss Dunn’s Montblanc fountain pen and sat back in the chair, grinning at Felix. It was done. He was a Lloyd’s name.

Then they had taken Miss Dunn out for a drink. A drink had led to dinner and an animated discussion between Miss Dunn and Felix over the British financial system, the bond market and why the American stock market’s excesses could bring down the world economy. James had left them there, having lost track of their conversation. He
had stumbled down to the Tube and shared the platform with half a dozen other men in suits heading home after a few too many at the pub.

James remembered it all. Standing in the midst of the financiers, bankers and traders at the Bank Tube station, he had been unable to stop grinning. He had been so happy.

Sitting in Sydney, four years later, he again heard that clipped sonorous voice repeating the phrase, ‘unlimited liability’. He had paid no attention to it then, blinded by his own puffed-up self-importance. Well, now he was going to pay. The unlimited liability that he had so readily dismissed as unimportant meant he owed Lloyd’s every single thing he owned, down to his last cufflink.

James didn’t own much. He lived in the Wilde Wines apartment, drove the Wilde Wines car. He didn’t have art or investments. Though he did have a pair of diamond-encrusted solid gold Carrier cufflinks. They had been his present to himself the day after he had signed up as a name. He and Felix, feeling very important, decided they needed something to commemorate this momentous occasion. They were outrageously expensive but after the way Tuckfield had droned on about ‘down to your last cufflink, gentlemen’, they had thought it fitting. James didn’t care about them. Lloyd’s could have them.

But he did care about his third share in Wilde Wines. He had no idea how much it was worth but felt pretty sure it would be at least three or four
times the $250,000 of his letter of credit. Unlimited liability meant they could take it all. Every cent he owned. They had no obligation to leave him with even the clothes he was standing up in. How would he ever tell his father? He may as well tell him he had gambled his family inheritance in a poker game. That’s how it would appear to Frederick Wilde.

James came out of the study and placed his briefcase by the front door. He had many questions for Felix tomorrow. There were so many things he still didn’t understand. The feeling of being in over his head had returned. He wondered who Nina was talking to on the telephone at this hour. Or, more correctly, who was talking to Nina. She stood with her profile to him, looking out across the bay, listening and smiling.

‘All right, Mum. Give my love to Dad. I should go now. It’s quite late here.’

James watched as she replaced the receiver, smiling to herself. ‘Was that Canada?’ he asked.

Nina jumped. She hadn’t heard him come out of the study. ‘Yes. I was just chatting to Mum.’

James’s face darkened.

‘She said one of the dogs has just had puppies –’

James cut in. ‘How long did you talk for?’

Nina looked baffled. She didn’t understand his tone or the question. ‘What do you mean?’

‘How long did you talk for?’

‘I don’t know. The usual. Half an hour. Maybe more.’

James heart sank. He didn’t want to snap at
Nina. It wasn’t her fault they were broke. He had always encouraged her to phone her family in Canada as often as she wanted. But that was then. Pre-crisis. It seemed a lifetime ago. He chose his words carefully.

‘Please, can you go easy on the calls to Canada? They are expensive and we need to try and save a bit. Sorry, love.’ He gave a wan smile.

Nina felt stung. There it was again. No money. She heard her father telling her again, ‘No, Nina. We have no money.’ How that had hurt. James had unwittingly touched that tender spot.

It also confused Nina. James had always been so generous. It was part of what made her feel safe. He used to take such delight in letting her have whatever she wanted. Now it was suddenly a problem for her to phone home. What was going on? Why was he doing this? Why was he being such a bully? She felt powerless and realised how little control she had over her life now. James had the purse strings and he could dictate what she did. How had her mother known it would become like this? At that moment Nina hated James.

When he came to bed Nina was turned away from him. Her bedside light was out. The message was clear. Usually it didn’t matter what had gone on in their individual days or how busy they had been, at night they would always share a kiss and a cuddle before sleep.

James could have tapped his wife gently on the shoulder and poured out his problems. But it didn’t occur to him. This was his problem and until he had
figured out a way to fix it, it would stay that way. Nina also could have reacted differently, asking James to talk, to open up about whatever was worrying him. But fear and resentment had closed her heart.

So they lay there, rigid and separate, as far apart from each other as they could be without falling out of the bed.

Nina looked at the little ball of fluff sitting on her foot. He was trembling and whimpering, his eyes huge and round as they gazed up at her. Nina’s heart was lost in an instant. Around her puppies of all shapes, sizes, breeds and ages rolled over each other in a cacophony of noise and colour. Nina ceased to notice any of them, turning all her attention to the one gently chewing her toe. She leaned down and picked up the little white fur ball, cradling it gently in her hands. It was so tiny, she thought it would fit into the palm of one hand.