The Quilt (13 page)

“Joanne
, you spend your days listening to the misery of mismatched couples.  Couples burdened with financial stress and intellectual inequalities.  Couples that have thrown the best years of their lives away and who have invested in relationships that were doomed to fail from the start!”

A
gain she inhaled deeply and with almost too much emotion before continuing.

“
Imagine twenty years from now, looking at this, this man, with a belly over his trousers and nothing but a bloody burp to add to an intelligent conversation.” 

It was too much.  Joanne
infuriated her mother even further by laughing.

The word misery did not even come close to the weekend that followed.  Joanne’s mother arrived at the airport bristling and complaining that she had had to postpone a business meeting to sort out her daughter’s current decline.

She eyed Stephen as sh
e would have an insect.  His good looks and ready smile were greeted by cold and hostile scrutiny. 

No amount of charm would deceiv
e an accomplished woman like Natalie Kyle.  She had spent her adult life forming business relationships, organizing staff, dealing with personnel dynamics and controlling complicated, and sometimes volatile, discussions in boardroom meetings. 

She
evaluated Stephen; unemployable, transient, self-absorbed.  What she didn’t evaluate accurately was that her opinion would have little or no influence on her daughter’s relationship with him. The time for maternal concern or advice had long since passed.

Within six months of her m
others brief and unpleasant visit the couple had moved into an elevated art studio set high above the beach. 

The long-term re
ntal contract was put solely into Stephen’s name as were the telephone, power and amenities.  The nature of Joanne’s employment as a specialist in family law made her vulnerable to hostility from disgruntled spouses.  She knew it was advisable to ensure she was not easy to contact or locate out of office hours. 

Chapter 1
2 

“Joanne
”

Joanne cursed angrily.  She slammed on the brakes and swung her compact car abruptly around in an illegal U-turn.

Her hand
reached blindly for her mobile telephone and speed dialled the home number.   It went straight through to the answerphone. Frustrated, her fist crashed on to the top of the steering wheel.

“Where the hell are you
, Stephen?  Still in bloody bed?” 

“Now I’m talking to myself!” 

She yelled, venting at the slow moving traffic looming in front of her car.

“Don’t stop!  M
ove! Please!”

She
felt like her life had been on fast forward since Sandy had visited five months earlier.  The friends had hardly spoken over the last few weeks and she realized, sadly, that she was to blame for the lack of contact.

Sandy had taken the initiative and rung on sev
eral occasions.
 
Unfortunately, her calls had always coincided with Joanne rushing to an appointment or about to cook a meal.   She made a mental note. 

“M
ake the effort.  Find the time to telephone Sandy this week.”

Her growing client base and
involvement with Stephen had been occupying most of her life and energy.  Of course, it didn’t help that Stephen and Sandy were locked in some sort of unspoken battle.  Even her mother had remained agitated and negative.  Last week she had accused Stephen of being controlling.  Joanne had tried to remove herself from the situation and imagine herself as an observer.  What would she think if a client had described their relationship? 

The tail
lights ahead illuminated red as the traffic ground to a standstill again.  There must be an accident.  Why today of all days?  She retreated back into thought.

It couldn’t be healthy
to her relationship, rushing from one appointment to another appointment, juggling files and clients in a hectic race to make order out of chaos in as little time as possible. 

Every night
recently, she had taken files home, planning and pouring over the details that would make her more efficient and less stretched for time in the office the following day. 

Stephen was
becoming increasingly surly, and less supportive.  He was reluctant to slot into the rigid schedule that was required if Joanne was to succeed.

Of course
, it was understandable.  He was artistic and did not respond well to routine or fixed structure.

But surely that was no excuse for him failing to contribute to the
everyday running of the house that was necessary for them to live comfortably?   Every night she returned home to dishes piled high on the grubby surfaces, clothes strewn across the floor, wet towels and an unmade bed. 

Every night
, her frustration led to anger and her anger led to bitter arguments.  What a waste of emotion and energy.  It had become routine for her to walk away before things escalated to unpleasantness and words spoken in anger became too harmful to be forgiven. 

Cliff top
neighbours watched every evening as the tall, elegant Joanne painted a lonely picture making her way along the deserted beach.  Often she could be seen skimming shells into the surf or scooping up driftwood as she walked along the sand deep in thought. Often she was bent against the cold, her long blonde hair clinging wet to her face masking tears as she struggled to capture the happiness she was sure she should feel.

Was she to blame?  Surely she could find the answer?  It was her job to calmly guide clients on to stable ground when their lives unravelled.  Why was it so much more difficult when
your own emotions were there to confuse the issues? 

She made another mental note.

“Make time to have a romantic weekend away with Stephen.”

The traffic had freed up slightly.

How did her mother cope?  She held down a position that was even more stressful with travel and different time zones, climates and language barriers to contend with.  She still managed to perform professionally, meet deadlines and remain a wife to a demanding husband.

“Get out of my way you idiots!”

The slow moving traffic ground to a sudden halt again forming a barrier in front of the small vehicle.

She had almost reached the office when her eyes had darted to the empty passenger seat.  Her brief case sat in the foot well and with horror she realized her first morning client’s folder still sat on her bedside cabinet. 

“This is what you get from taking work home
and getting over tired!”

Joanne
continued to reprimand both herself and Stephen.

“
Stephen, if you had answered the damned telephone you could have met me with the Tucker’s file.  I would have been at the office by now. Driving back home in this traffic will make me late and I dread to think of the reception Kelvin will give me!”

It took a further five minutes before she could turn off the main road that wound its way out of town and break away from the long line of slow moving traffic. 

She felt panic rise in her throat.  Perhaps it was just because she was over tired.  She had worked late into the night and remembered reading a full page at one o’clock this morning without comprehending a single word.

It certainly was out of character
for her to leave a file at home.

She braked hard outside the studio apartment.
Something had to be done about the self-imposed stress she was putting herself under. 

It would help i
f Stephen actually went out to work to take at least some of the financial burden off her.  If only he was willing to settle for a normal job until his art began to provide a regular income.

By now Jo
anne had reached the door, she felt dizzy with panic and failed to notice the small insignificant white sedan parked at the curb-side.

W
ithout hesitating she barged into the bedroom her eyes darting towards the bedside cabinet and the Tuckers brown manila client folder.

As the f
og of panic cleared, Joanne’s brain comprehended the sex glazed look in Stephen’s eyes.  He abruptly sat bolt upright in their large soft bed.  His mouth opened but no words came out.  He blinked and then his lips fell slack.  Still there were no words, just a vacant confused stare.

Shocked Joanne tried to comprehend how he had
grown so many limbs. The scene didn’t make any sense, whatsoever.

A
s if to answer, a startled brunette head popped out from under the duvet. 

The owner of the head
had two huge staring eyes that looked back with both confusion and annoyance.

Joanne dragged her attention away from the stranger and focused on
Stephen.  She had no idea what she expected him to say.  He didn’t disappoint by saying nothing.  He just sat there opening and shutting his mouth like a fish gasping for water.

Confusion subsiding and anger rising Joanne addressed the head.

“Hello, I am Joanne.  Get out of my bed!”

The head just stared.  It was probably empty
, Joanne thought.

By nature Joanne was a strong and rational person.  Normally
, her intelligence and profession gave her the words and quickness of wit to verbally respond to unexpected or stressful situations. 

Today there was nothing
to say.

Without even glancing at the entwined smooth and slender limbs trespassing on her crisp clean sheets Joanne marched to the side cabinet.

She snatched up the Tuckers folder and walked out slamming the door so hard behind her that the wall shook and the charcoal print fell, coming to rest on top of a soft white pillow.  

The
sudden noise seemed to wake Stephen from his pathetic state of shock.

What the hell was she doing home?   Joanne never came home early. In fact, she was hardly ever home before dark. 

H
e should have taken a moment to answer the telephone when it had rung a few minutes earlier.   If he had Chrissie would be in the wardrobe now and Joanne would have picked up her bloody folder and be happily on her way back to work.

He stumbled out of bed sha
king loose the brunettes arm and reaching for a towel.

If the situation had been less tragic there would be a funny side to the scene that played out in Joanne’s rear-view mirrors.  Joanne committed the image of Stephen’s lanky frame struggling to keep a tiny piece of towelling over his groin while he frantically sprinted after her disappearing car.

Joanne
was numb with shock and confusion.  The hurt and betrayal threatened to break through Joanne’s well practiced barrier.  She drove without consciously finding direction, fighting a battle to keep the tears from cascading down her cheeks and ruining her make-up, clothing and dignity.  The bastard!  How could he do this to her and how long had it been going on? 

Was she that naïv
e, that unobservant, that he could do this to her and it could go unnoticed while she worked to earn a living to support them?

Where the hell from here?
  The studio would no longer feel like a home. Stephen had allowed someone to intrude, to peek into her life and invade her privacy. 

Where could she go?

She could only tackle one thing at a time in her present state of mind. Any decision she made today would potentially change her future.

The only thing she knew for sure
was that Stephen would never share her life again.

Joanne concentrated on parking the small car and assembling herself into some form of composure.   There are clients waiting and they deserve a lawyer without personal issues clouding her professionalism.

It was unnecessary
, but Joanne reached down to smooth the surface of her skirt when she reached reception.  Carol eyed her cautiously and gave a small, almost unnoticed gesture towards the door. 

Kelvin Wade was standing in the entra
nce waiting impatiently. He glared threateningly at her.  But it wasn’t his anger that was alarming, anger was justified, she was late for an appointment.   It was the victorious gloating expression that played across his sagging jowls. 

He had showed obvious resentment when the small diamond ring had been placed on
her finger.  She shuddered as she remembered the dangerous glint in Kelvins eyes while his words expressed congratulations.  Now he stood unmoving in front of her.  He had visibly drawn himself up to his full height.  His lined, yellowing face looked contorted and he spoke sarcastically making it obvious by his tone that he had rehearsed his words. 

“Good afternoon Joanne.  I am so grateful that you took the trouble to turn up today.  You will be please
d to know your clients have only been waiting for thirty minutes and are happily reading magazines while you leisurely make your way to your overpaid job.”

He was enjoying this.  Could the day get any worse?

“Please come to my office as soon as you have attended to your professional duties.” 

The ugly little man stopped.

“I am assuming you are not too tired to do a small favour for your clients and see to their needs?”

His lips parted. 

“And I mean come to my office immediately after you have seen your clients.  I have organized for your following appointments to be handled by a more reliable solicitor.” 

H
e turned triumphantly and minced his way out of the reception area.

Joanne’s eyes met Carol
’s.   For a moment the young girl looked frightened she then returned her attention to the diary sitting open in front of her.  The happy, energetic receptionist had been reserved and evasive for several weeks. 

Another person I have
neglected recently.

Joanne again smoothed down her skirt; it was totally unnecessary but seemed to have a calming effect and gave her time to assemble her legal, efficient expression.  The Tuckers stood when she entered the room.

“I am so sorry for being late Mr and Mrs Tucker.  The traffic was horrendous this morning. 
I see Carol has brought you a cup of tea.  I hope you have not been kept waiting too long.”

The Tuckers
had been assigned to Joanne when she had first joined the firm thirteen months ago.  She had managed their affairs and often wondered if they needed company rather than advice.  Their grown up children had moved out of the area and she appreciated that must be hard for the couple who were now in their eighties. 

The
appointment to draft the elderly couple’s Last Will and Testament took less than thirty minutes. Their estate was straightforward and the will was really not much more than an update of a previous document.