Dark Oil

Home > Other > Dark Oil > Page 15
Dark Oil Page 15

by Nora James


  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.

  XIV

  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 h
er 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.

  Then the thought crossed her mind that maybe he didn’t even want to see her. He might be dreading her return. It hurt to think that, hurt to realise how far they were from the couple that once couldn’t go anywhere without holding hands. Her limbs heavy, a lump forming in her throat, she slid into a cab.

  As the taxi drove off, she looked out at the familiar eucalypts, the blue sky, and the sandy ground. She was home, in her own country, where she belonged. She was safe now.

  She would take a shower without fear of wetting her face. She would eat knowing she wouldn’t vomit within a couple of hours. Her bathroom would smell of perfumed soap and freshly washed towels, not of sewerage. Her bed would be soft and clean. And before night fell she would see her husband.

  She should have been happy, relieved, at peace. She should have been looking forward to Tim’s embrace. But all she felt was dread and emptiness. Her life could collapse at any minute. It was like a run-down building whose foundations, slowly but surely gnawed at by termites, needed little more than a push to crumble. She was acutely aware of that.

  She closed her eyes and to her surprise she saw Jack’s face, his strong hands. Somehow it calmed her.

  XV

  She peered through the taxi’s window as it drove her home. The Australian summer was upon them. The clear blue sky, the dry yellow patches in the gardens, reminded her of that. Still, the vegetation was lush here compared with Zakra.

  The cab pulled up in front of her house and the driver unloaded her suitcase. She walked up the garden path, fumbled in her bag for the keys and opened the door.

  The house seemed bigger than ever. Luxurious, too. The marble kitchen bench-top, the gleaming parquetry floors, the high ornate ceilings pointed to their financial success. Well, that was what Tim always said. To Lara, there was an emptiness to all this. To her, these were the symbols of years devoted to paying off a big mortgage, possessions that told the story of unbalanced, hectic lives.

  She dropped her suitcase on the floor near the lounge room. Longing for a leisurely hot shower, she took off her shoes and headed for the ensuite. She couldn’t wait to put her head under the water, without fear of catching some unpronounceable disease, as was always the case in Negala, and let the soothing drops run down her body.

  As she passed the family room she noticed Tim had left a shirt and tie on the couch. She smiled. Most other guys would have clothes strewn all over the place, dishes in the sink and dirt trodden over the carpets. Not Tim. A shirt and tie on the couch was a mess to him.

  When she reached the bedroom she gasped. She’d never seen it like that. The bedcovers formed a mountain on the wool carpet. The sheet on the bed was crumpled, amassed into a ball. The feather pillows were depressed in the middle as if they had been thumped.

  The blinds still closed, the room was dark and she noticed it had an unusual smell. It was musty, sweaty even. If she hadn’t known Tim better she would have thought it a bachelor’s den, a place where he’d rolled around with his conquests, throwing caution to the wind. Tim had never been like that. Not even when they’d first dated.

  There must have been an emergency. He must have been called in to work at the crack of dawn, on a project that couldn’t wait. Or perhaps he hadn’t felt well, hadn’t slept much. Perhaps he’d had nightmares while she’d been away, awful dreams that had caused him to toss and turn. He’d certainly left the place a shambles. Or perhaps. . .she pushed the thought away. No, surely he wouldn’t dare. Not here. But, against her will, an image kept creeping into her mind, an image of Tim holding another woman in the very same bed Lara had slept for the past ten years. She shivered.

  She opened the blinds to let in some light and as she looked around, taking in the sight of messiest room she’d seen in a long time, she suddenly stopped, holding her breath. She’d heard a sound in the bathroom, she was sure about that. Was it a tap dripping? A leak? No, it was more like the sloshing of water too hot, mixed by hand with cold to bring down the temperature. Or someone moving around slightly in a bath.

  “Tim? Is that you?” She frowned. What would Tim be doing home at this time of the morning? A knot formed in her stomach. The blood rushed from her head. She felt dizzy. The knot tightened.

  She knew before he answered. Before he came out wrapped in a towel, she knew. She should have run out, there and then, but how could she listen to herself? It was too painful.

  “Christ, you’re supposed to be in Negala!” His voice was full of reproach. “Couldn’t you call?”

  Lara’s gaze was drawn to a red ball of fabric, thrown on the floor in the corner of the now bright room. She picked it up. It was a dress that was not hers. Under it lay a lacy black bra, underwear that belonged to another woman. She breathed in deeply and it was rage, not oxygen that filled her lungs.

  “Who’s in there with you, Tim? Damn it! I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. You told me you loved me. You said it’d be forever. We’re married! Who’s in there? Answer me!”

  It was Tim the little boy who spoke. “It’s not what you think, Lara. It just sort of happened. It’s not—”

  “The cat’s out of the bag, Tim. Tell her. It’s time.” The woman’s voice was seductive, husky. The words seemed to roll off her tongue like the music of a sultry jazz singer.

  Lara heard water again, someone stepping out of a bath, and she imagined Tim’s wet body, water dripping on the marble floor. Suddenly she was driven by an uncontrollable desire to humiliate the pair of bathing lovebirds. She wanted to rip into them, destroy them and let shame consume them forever. She wanted them to suffe
r the way she did.

  Her heart thumping, her teeth clenched, she put her hand on the door knob. With the flick of the wrist she turned it. It wasn’t locked.

  “For God’s sake!” Tim screamed, jumping forward, using his naked weight to shut it. Before it slammed Lara caught a glimpse of the towels on the bathroom floor, of Tim shaking his head, droplets of water on his glistening chest. She saw the young woman who was standing next to him, a good ten years her junior, young and shameless, an amused smirk on her face.

  Lara would never forget those pouty red lips, the outline of those perky breasts. As the door slammed in her face Lara pounded it. In her mind it was Tim she was hitting, her anger traversing the wood, her fists meeting her husband’s chest with full force. “How long has this been going on?” Lara screamed. “How long, you bastard?”

  Her whole body trembled and no matter how hard she tried Lara couldn’t calm down. Her world was crumbling and along with it so was she. She felt stupid, ugly and old. She’d done everything to be a good wife, she’d been so loyal, and yet here she was. Inadequate. So inadequate another woman was sleeping in her bed.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. She thought of the months—or was it years?—Tim had ignored her, all those evenings out with the boys, all the times he’d left his mobile phone here or there and she hadn’t been able to contact him.

  She remembered his secretary saying how he often worked from home. And finally, the cough in the car. Her worst fear had come true. Lara let out a wail of pain, holding nothing back. She thought she heard Tim draw a sharp breath behind the door.

 

‹ Prev