by Nora James
“Oh, Tim. Of course. He’s home.”
Lara frowned. “He’s gone home sick?” Things were becoming more complicated. How could she go off and leave him on their anniversary, alone and ill?
“No, he’s just working from home, like he often does.” She stared at Lara, her eyes tripled in size behind her fish-bowl spectacles. “Well, sometimes.” She blinked. “I mean occasionally.”
Lara paused, not knowing what to say. Did this woman know something about Tim that she, his wife of ten years, didn’t? Her mind raced. She felt a bead of sweat trickle between her breasts. She breathed in, trying her best to compose herself. “Of course. Thank you.”
It took Lara a few minutes to process the information. Back in the street, and then in the taxi home, she thought about what had just happened. Working from home? Often? Sometimes? Occasionally? Tim had left early in the morning, wearing his suit and tie. There had been no mention of him working from anywhere but the office.
In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d worked from home, except once about three years ago, when he’d had the flu. In the movies, this was how wives found out about. . . No, not Tim. He wouldn’t. Surely he wouldn’t.
Perhaps he’d set off for work, felt unwell, then had gone back home. They could have crossed each other. By the time he’d got back, she’d left for work. She took out her mobile phone to call him, but it wasn’t worth it now. She’d be there in a few minutes. She’d kiss him. He’d give her an explanation. Everything would be fine.
She got out of the cab, and stumbled through the garden, past the palm trees and the blue-tiled waterfall fountain, to their tropical-style mansion. She usually loved coming home, always took the time to smell the heady perfume of the gardenias lining the limestone path to the door and admire the visiting Currawongs, with their beady eyes and silver feathers. Today she didn’t care about any of that. She walked in a daze, conscious only of the slight shaking of her hands, of the blood rushing to her face, as she dragged herself up the steps to the entrance. She flung open the door and called out his name.
“Tim? Tim!” All was quiet. She walked through the house and back again. There was no sign of him.
Ignoring the stiffness in her shoulders, she collapsed on the couch. She glanced at her watch. She had barely an hour to pack, shower and change into comfortable travelling clothes. It wasn’t much. She could have done with the same amount of time just to find some inner peace before trying to get hold of her husband, but she had no such luxury.
She grabbed the phone and dialled his mobile. It went straight to voice mail. “Tim, if you get this, please call me at home. It’s urgent. I’ll be here until three or so.”
As she took her first blouse out of the wardrobe, ready to pack, the phone rang. She picked up the receiver, her hand trembling.
“Hi, honey.” Tim sounded concerned. “Are you all right? How come you’re home?”
“How come you’re not?” She didn’t want to lash out at him, but she couldn’t hold back. Now the cat was out of the bag. He’d understand she knew and he’d have to come clean. Or maybe, just maybe, there was a good explanation. She prayed to God there was.
Tim laughed. “I’d love to be home, but I have to work at least until five. It doesn’t mean I’m not looking forward to our celebration tonight.”
“Where are you? Martha said you were home today.”
“What? Oh.” He paused, his heavy silence hitting Lara like a brick to the stomach. He finally cleared his throat. “God, she’s useless! I told her I’d be with a client all day. She always gets mixed up. I should fire her, really. So how come you’re home?”
Lara sighed with relief. Her shoulders relaxed, her pulse slowed and she suddenly felt stupid, blissfully stupid. “They’re sending me off to Negala. You know we’ve got problems. Big problems. We’ve lost our permit, or at least it seems that way. The Minister’s still not discussing anything with us over the phone, nor is the President, of course. We’ve arranged meetings with the government tomorrow, so I have to leave today.”
“Today? You’re leaving today?”
She could hear the surprise in his voice. It was surprise, wasn’t it? Or disappointment? His pitch was much higher than usual. “I’m really sorry, Tim. I was so looking forward to tonight. You have no idea. I just don’t have a choice. My job’s on the line with this. I’ll make it up to you when I get back. Can we take a raincheck?”
“Of course, I understand. That’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
She swallowed, trying to ignore her nauseating sense of guilt. “I had no idea the job would involve travelling at the drop of a hat. They never told me that. I’ll look for something else when I get back, something that suits us better. I promise.”
He was a grown man, an independent man, who probably even enjoyed a little time on his own. He certainly loved going out with the boys whenever he could, yet she felt like a rotten wife for having to leave him, even though it was beyond her control. She wondered for an instant if there were women who didn’t feel guilty of their own success.
“Nonsense!” cried Tim. “It’s a huge pay increase. I don’t want you to quit. I’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be twice as good when you get back.”
“All right, then.” Tim really did sound fine. It made it a little easier for her. Still, having to leave on her anniversary was a bitter pill to swallow. She really would look for another job when she got back, especially if the trips were going to be frequent. Better still, she’d talk to Tim again about moving to a smaller house, a cheaper suburb, and starting a family—because that was what she wanted. Money wasn’t everything.
“Listen Lara, I have to go. Take care of yourself, OK? By the way, when are you coming home?”
“Hard to say. Could be three or four days, a week, maybe a bit more. . . depending on how long it takes to sort things out.”
“Let me know as soon as your return’s booked.”
“I love you, Tim,” she said, longing to hear him say he loved her, too, but he’d already hung up.
She laughed out loud as she put down the phone. How stupid of her to even let it cross her mind that Tim might be a deceitful husband with a mistress hidden away somewhere! Too much imagination, she told herself. That was her problem. She should have been a writer.
She hauled down the suitcase from the top shelf of her walk-in-robe, placing it on the bed. She carefully packed a few blouses, a suit, and a couple of non-crease dresses.
Yes, there was someone in her life who wasn’t to be trusted, but it wasn’t Tim. It was crazy Martha. Lara would be going to Negala a contented woman. She had peace of mind, she told herself, nothing to worry about at all.
Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the niggling sense that a piece of the puzzle didn’t quite fit. Even if Martha had got it wrong today, she’d said that Tim often worked from home. Often.
Lara shook herself. What was she thinking? Tim was a good husband who was supportive of her career. Martha was strange at the best of times. Tim had always told her so, and she’d seen it for herself. The woman never came up with the answer anyone expected. Lara was probably nervous about going away, reading too much into every tiny detail, and each inflexion of Tim’s voice. That was it. She was being over-sensitive.
She finished her case, sparing a thought for her mother. Now, with her mother, there really was cause for concern. It had been years since her father had died, but Susan hadn’t remarried. She was still on her own, and she might be sick, again, very sick. Lara sighed, not wanting to think too long about that. At least her mother could afford the very best doctors. In fact, she could afford the very best of everything. And she had Aunt Beth nearby to help when Lara wasn’t there. It was something.
Lara checked her watch. Time had flown by and now she was late. She had to make that plane. She’d call her mother on the way to the airport. She rushed out of the house dragging her suitcase. It felt strange to be leaving the country without ki
ssing her husband goodbye, without as much as a hug.
On her way out she glanced at Tim’s photo on the sideboard, and his words echoed in her mind, like the chorus of a new song playing over and over on the radio. “Today? You’re leaving today?”
Her neck stiffened. It hadn’t been surprise in his voice when she’d told him the anniversary dinner was off. It hadn’t been disappointment. That pitch, that very high, slightly awkward pitch, she remembered it now. She’d heard it before, when he’d got out of a job he didn’t want to do, when his mother had cancelled a visit or he’d talked a client into going for the most expensive option.
The room spun around her and she rested her hand on the gnarled wood of the front door. No, it certainly wasn’t disappointment she’d heard in her husband’s voice. Nor was it sadness, or concern.
It was something altogether different. It was controlled delight.
II
Lara dashed through the half-open automatic glass doors of the modest but adequate airport and headed straight to the business class check-in counter. One of the advantages of being in a relatively small city was that there were never any interminable queues, certainly none to rival Heathrow or Charles de Gaulle. She was especially grateful for that today, since it had been a race against the clock to get to the airport on time.
She arrived at the desk out of breath, her hand on her chest. “I got stuck in traffic. I’m terribly sorry. Is it too late to check in this bag?”
“Not at all, Madam. If you’d like some refreshments before departure, the business class lounge is up the escalator to the right.”
She felt like royalty as the immaculately groomed airline employee exchanged pleasantries with her and wished her a good trip. Even the smiles were bigger in business class.
The lounge was all luxury, much more than the rest of the airport, with highly polished mahogany tables and rich navy walls. Lara marvelled at the selection of delicate hors-d’oeuvre, ribbon sandwiches and French pâtisseries, laid out on ornate silver platters for people to help themselves. She smiled at the thought of taking one of each and heading to a comfortable velvet armchair to enjoy them. It was just what she needed after the scare she’d had when she couldn’t find Tim.
But everything was all right now, wasn’t it? She could still hear Tim’s voice, as he exclaimed, “Today? You’re leaving today?”She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There was no need to worry, she told herself.
“I asked to change your reservation so you’d be sitting next to me.”
Lara jumped. Martin had snuck up on her and was really scaring her with his comment. She held back a cry of despair. All that time by his side! How would she get through it? She tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t aggravate him.
“Oh, hello Martin. About the reservation, I didn’t–”
“Don’t play innocent with me. Anyway, you’re safe. The plane was full so they couldn’t move you.”
She simply nodded in relief, although blushing a little at the thought he knew exactly what she’d orchestrated.
“Have you seen Jack?” he asked, as he set off through the lounge looking for their colleague.
“I wouldn’t know. We haven’t been introduced.” She had to run every now and then by Martin’s side to keep up with him. He was tall and took giant steps, making no allowance for her somewhat shorter legs and much higher heels.
He raised his eyebrows. “You haven’t? In that case I think I should warn you. Between you and me, he’s a liar and a cheat.”
“You’ve told me that already. Or words to that effect.”
“I have? Well, you can’t be warned too much with him. He has no principles or rules. I, for one, would be glad to be rid of him.”
An amused, but disbelieving sound escaped her throat. “Forgive me for saying so, but that seems a bit harsh. What exactly do you mean?” Was he trying to warn her about Jack’s ethics in the oil industry or tell her he was a womaniser? And, if he was a Don Juan, what did it matter to Martin?
“Forget it. Anyway, I thought you’d met him because when we were in Alan’s office. . . Speaking of the devil.” Martin pursed his lips.
Lara looked up to see the man who had opened the door for her as she arrived at the CEO’s office that morning, the man whose green eyes and square jaw had raised her temperature too much for comfort. As she lowered her gaze, Martin’s warning sounded in her ear. She had no trouble at all believing Martin at that instant, no trouble imagining this Adonis as a seducer. He had all the necessary physical attributes to be successful at it.
Completely ignoring Martin, Jack thrust his hand forward at Lara. “Jack Norton, Exploration Manager, at your service.”
She had to smile. “I’m the one in the service industry, Mr Norton.”
“Call me Jack.”
“Thank you. Lara Beckham.”
“Sounds posh.” Pleased with his joke, he flashed a smile worthy of a toothpaste commercial. “Any relation to the footballer?”
“None whatsoever.”
Martin crossed his arms. “You’re late. We were going to go over the correspondence together. Since you’re not sitting next to me on the plane, I thought you’d at least turn up in time to do it before take-off.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “It’s all right, Martin. We’ve got thirty hours before the meeting.” He turned to Lara. “Done much flying?”
“Not for business. Lots as a younger person. My parents worked overseas. Dad was an engineer.” And in the first few years of their marriage she’d been all over Europe for holidays with Tim to the very best hotels, but she liked to play things down, so she said nothing.
“Can I carry that for you?” He was referring to her folder, the one she’d kept out of her luggage to read through on the plane.
“That’s nice of you. As long as it’s not too much trouble.”
He looked at her as if they were the only two people in the world. “For you, nothing would be.” She found herself having to turn away, again. So that’s what Martin had meant. Jack wasn’t one to play down the charm. He had a way of immediately making you feel special, intimate even, and he did it right there in public, in full view of others. He was effortlessly—and annoyingly—seductive, as if it was innate.
She casually lifted her left hand to her cheek, letting it rest there for a few seconds. The engagement and wedding rings on her index finger sparkled in the fluorescent light. There was no way he could miss them.
Jack laughed. “Nice jewellery, Miss Beckham. It is Miss Beckham, isn’t it? I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to embarrass you. I’m harmless, really.”
A larrikin, that’s what he was. She smiled. “Call me Lara.”
A suave voice announced the business class passengers were boarding. Martin pushed through Lara and Jack to lead the way, leaving them to exchange an amused glance.
As if he had eyes in his back, Martin suddenly turned around. Nostrils flared, his face slightly red, there was no doubting he was already irritated by the seemingly instant and natural complicity between Lara and Jack. “We have two hours in Singapore between planes,” he snapped. “I’ll meet you in the lounge there, and we can go over the documents. I’m warning you, so you don’t make plans to go gallivanting about the shops.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “I don’t recall seeing your name above mine in the company’s organisational chart. And technically, Lara reports to the Head of Legal, who reports separately to the CEO. In other words, we can’t boss each other around. Not that I would ever try.”
“Although you may be unaware of it, Jack,” snarled Martin, “Alan is reviewing the charts as we speak. There’s a good chance that will all change.”
Jack flinched, but Martin continued, turning the knife in the fresh wound with apparent pleasure. “I can already hear the announcement, which I’ve been told will be made soon. In the meantime, you’re right. We can’t boss each other around. It wasn’t what I was doing. Just trying to get organised and get some
work done. There are billions of dollars riding on this.”
“You’ve been told about an announcement? What exactly have–?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss. It’s confidential.”
“You’ve officially been told and I haven’t?”
“Well, maybe not exactly. But a hint was dropped and I’m sure–”
“A hint? Oh, you’re full of it.” Jack shook his head with obvious disgust before rushing down the corridor towards the gangway that led to the plane.
Lara followed him in silence, stopping briefly as the attendants controlled her boarding pass. Jack turned to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand. But he’s such a jerk. And you didn’t hear that from me.”
She looked behind her, checking Martin was at a safe distance, and then smiled. “Sure. My lips are sealed.”
Jack stepped aside, his hand outstretched in a gentlemanly gesture. “After you, Madam. I insist.” She walked in front of him, nodding her thanks.
On board, the stuffiness hit her. She remembered her holiday in Europe, how she’d hated flying, the constant drone, the dryness of the air, her stiff and swollen legs. And she’d never been as far as Negala without a stopover. It was going to be a long haul. At least Jack seemed to be good company, now she’d set him straight about her being married.
A tall, glamorous flight attendant with cherry red lips glanced at Lara’s boarding pass and directed her to her seat. Lara couldn’t help thinking Jack would be making eyes at that leggy blonde, but when she turned around discreetly to check on him for the fun of it she saw he was no longer behind her.
They had been separated in the queue. Perhaps his seat was nowhere near hers. She felt a twinge of disappointment. Jack was amusing and protective of her, she could sense that already. There seemed to be an immediate connection between them. Well, it was good she was getting on with him—that’s all it was, wasn’t it? It might make up for how Martin treated her, might even take her mind off Tim and the comment he’d made before hanging up. Those few words, uttered in a pitch too high for comfort, which had been enough to leave Lara with the niggling feeling that something might be wrong.