by Ann Turner
‘But I’ve done nothing, Priscilla,’ I said, trying to make sense of it. ‘Truly. I’ll help with the investigation in any way I can.’
Her cornflower-blue eyes pierced me, as though sending a laser through my façade into the core of my essence. I gazed back openly to show my innocence.
‘It’s your signature,’ snapped Priscilla, as if reading my thoughts. ‘Like a rat crawling uphill; I’d know it anywhere.’
I exhaled. This sounded like the old Priscilla. For a moment her usual sharpness relaxed me.
‘I’d cancel that overseas trip if I were you,’ she added.
‘Absolutely no way. I’ve worked long and hard for this leave, and the Venetian conference is really important. I’m keynote speaker. I’ll be fully contactable. Besides, I’m not guilty of whatever—’
‘Alleged fraud,’ she interrupted.
‘If I was I’d probably stay, wouldn’t I? Protest too much, try to cover my tracks? But as I’m not, I plan on going.’ And there’s no way I’m letting you alone in Paris with Stephen.
‘I can’t stop you either way,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘The investigation’s out of my hands. But when you get the letter from Margaret DiStasio you’ll realise just how serious this is.’
I drew in a breath and found myself unable to exhale. Dots swam like tadpoles in my eyes.
‘Breathe.’ Priscilla reached out and touched me, and I let go of the air. ‘Now breathe in,’ she said. I obeyed.
‘I really don’t want to see you found guilty,’ she said quietly, and I felt my world tip upside down. Surely none of this was happening. Surely I’d wake up soon and take Big Boy to the beach.
Outside the sky darkened to gunmetal grey. An ear-splitting clap of thunder shook the room followed by a sulfurous flash of lightning. Rain smashed down.
‘You’d better wait here until it stops,’ said Priscilla. ‘You’re going to need all your strength. These investigations are never pleasant.’
• • •
I asked Justine to keep everyone away, to not disturb me under any circumstances. I turned off my email, and brought up the accounts. At first I couldn’t see any discrepancies. The Athens account made me cringe but it had been a genuine error and was, other than that, quite legitimate.
Figures scrolled in front of me. I found it difficult to concentrate but forced myself to focus. More accounts, more numbers. Nothing looked wrong.
I went out and made a cup of coffee. As I returned Justine had a pile of documents for me to sign. I took them into my room and read each thoroughly before blessing it with my approval.
The end of the day was racing towards me as I went through the financial statements again. And then I found it. An account: ‘Athens 2’.
‘Who are you?’ I said aloud.
It held a series of small transactions – everything under ten thousand dollars. Money in, money out. Presumably it had been set up by Pam for some reason for the January student trip. It was irregular and I couldn’t remember signing any authorisation, but it didn’t seem enough to have placed me under investigation for serious misconduct.
I kept searching the accounts, but try as I might, I couldn’t find anything else that looked out of place.
• • •
The unforgiving sea churned, sheets of rain sweeping ashore like an army of ghosts as I sat watching from my car. Somehow I’d managed to leave work without alerting anyone to my distress. I was lucky Melinda was away – she alone would have seen through my act and wrenched the details piece by piece, all the while soothing and ranting how unfair it all was.
It was only six o’clock but darkness was already falling, a deeper grey on grey as thoughts battled in my mind. Could I face Stephen tonight? Could I ride the whole thing out without him knowing? Could he find the irregularities that I seemed to be missing? But then again, I’d always hated how arrogant he was when it came to financials and me; the last thing I could bear was to be patronised. In any case I felt stupid and incompetent to have let the first Athens account be opened, and I was nowhere close to working out what the second account was all about.
I’d been part of investigations, on the other side, the interrogator, the seeker of truth. I knew DiStasio would talk to colleagues in my department, but everyone would have to undertake the strictest confidentiality. It was feasible that I could sort it out and Stephen need never be aware of it.
Out at sea, a light bobbed lonely on the horizon, frail and unreachable. A sharp tapping on my window jolted me, terror gagging my throat as I realised I was not alone in this isolated place.
Drenched hair plastered over her face, Sally Chesser grinned and shouted above the storm. ‘Let me in!’
Automatically I leaned across and opened the passenger door and she ran around.
‘What on earth are you doing out in this?’ I said.
‘I was walking and got caught. I thought the weather was clearing. Lucky you were here, I didn’t think anyone would be.’
Neither did I. Inwardly I cursed.
‘You okay? You look a bit fragile.’ She touched my arm with a lightness that surprised as it soothed.
‘How do you know that’s not my normal state?’ I countered.
‘Is it? You didn’t seem that type at your lectures or the last time we met, but how would I know?’
I shrugged and offered nothing. Into the silence I suggested I give her a ride somewhere. ‘Where is your car, anyway? Or do you live nearby?’ This tiny cove was away from houses, so I was surprised when she answered in the affirmative.
‘About ten minutes. Work, not live.’
‘Oh, what do you do?’
‘I’m a lawyer.’
‘Solicitor? Barrister?’ Maybe Sally Chesser had been sent by the gods after all. ‘Do you practise industrial law?’
‘Family law. Why?’ She was suddenly alert, like a hawk peering at a small bird.
‘You must be cold.’ I started the engine and turned up the heat. The blast of air made the car instantly cosy and the dashboard lights twinkled reassuringly. ‘Direct me?’ I looked across to Sally and she seemed so young in her dampened state, barely over twenty.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said.
‘Nothing,’ I smiled. ‘You’ll be glad to get home.’
‘And you? What were you doing down here?’
‘Thinking.’
‘I get that. I’ve been known to do the same.’ She laughed, a carefree, lyrical burst that was infectious. ‘Wouldn’t want to do it too often,’ she continued gaily. ‘You never know where you’ll end up!’ She looked out to the bleak road, trees bent into question marks in the wind, no lights. ‘It’s desolate, isn’t it, when the weather’s bad. It’s hard to believe that civilisation’s just around the corner.’
Minutes later I dropped her outside a tiny office that was in darkness.
‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’ I looked around at the isolation of the place. ‘You wouldn’t get much passing foot traffic here.’
‘It suits our clients. Often when they’re divorcing they want to be out of sight. Especially when everyone knows each other’s business around here.’
Perhaps Sally could be useful? Although my work problem wasn’t her area, she seemed smart and might be a good, objective listener with a sharp legal mind.
‘Come to lunch?’ I asked and Sally’s face lit up.
‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
I pulled a pen and paper from my bag and we scribbled down our phone numbers, exchanging details, and then I watched as she ran around the back of the building through the pelting rain. I waited until a light came on, but none did. Should I go in and check? Just then, a car appeared at the end of the driveway and sped towards me. Sally tooted happily and drove off in the direction from which we’d just come.
I couldn’t help but wonder where she lived – and where she was going on this stormy night.
8
She was a vision in white from top to toe as she shimmer
ed through a blue eucalypt haze in the heat of the lazy afternoon.
I wrestled with Big Boy as he danced and strained on the balcony, a writhing cacophony of barks and yelps.
‘Who’s this baby?’ cried Sally as she planted a kiss in the air near his nose. Big Boy backed away whimpering, then quickly changed his mind and jumped up for more. Sally brushed a second kiss between his ears and then stood to pass a generous bowl of jewel-bright salad to Stephen as I introduced them.
‘I have champagne too!’ Sally plucked a glistening bottle from her pearly canvas tote as she entered the kitchen. ‘I love you,’ she crooned to her new canine admirer.
‘He doesn’t drink,’ deadpanned Stephen, and Sally flung her head back and laughed – a little too loudly. White retro jewellery, chunky and flamboyant, sat well against her tan. Her eyes today flashed amber and her glossy hair had been cut in short, fashionable layers. Stephen’s gaze made my heart sink.
‘What a gorgeous house,’ Sally said, scoping the room. There was a fizzy eruption as Stephen popped the cork and filled the glasses, which we raised in a toast.
‘To friendship,’ Stephen said unexpectedly.
‘To friendship!’ We clinked our glasses merrily.
‘Delicious.’ Stephen studied the bottle.
‘Bought in a wine cave in Provence.’
‘We go to Paris all the time but we’ve never been to Provence. Always meant to. What’s it like?’ he asked.
‘Not what I expected,’ replied Sally as I led the way outside to where I’d gone to some effort in setting a table. My mother’s antique tablecloth, faded linen with extravagant blousy roses, flapped like a butterfly beneath vintage plates and glasses.
‘Wow!’ Sally picked up a gleaming spoon. ‘Georgian silver.’
‘My mum’s. She was a collector.’ I remembered the void she had tried to fill after Dad’s death, wandering around shops, buying antiques and any other beautiful objects she could find, displaying them through our house until there was no room left.
‘Your mother clearly had taste,’ said Sally.
‘Did you have any difficulty finding the place?’ I asked abruptly.
‘None at all.’ Sally sat down and breathed in the air dramatically. ‘I love that tang of salt. Perhaps we can go for a swim later? I brought my togs.’
‘I’ll join you,’ Stephen said. ‘Bec doesn’t swim.’
Sally looked at me curiously. ‘Is that why you don’t go in? I could teach you.’
‘She can swim. She just doesn’t,’ said Stephen, and Sally frowned.
‘I don’t like it.’ I shrugged. ‘Now, tell us more about Provence?’
‘If you’re on the fast train you don’t see much, just a bit of greenery,’ she said. ‘You need a car, which I didn’t have. The villages I did go to were sweet but not as evocative as I’d fantasised from reading a million books before I went. How about you? Any travel plans?’
‘We’re off to Greece and Italy and Paris in semester break,’ I replied. ‘I’m counting the days. We haven’t had a holiday for ages, have we, darling?’ Stephen’s face clouded and my stomach kicked. ‘You’re looking forward to it, aren’t you?’
‘Of course. Can’t come soon enough.’
Even Sally could see he was lying. I felt as if he’d struck me.
‘You’ll have to bring us photos of Provence. Maybe we’ll go there next,’ he said to Sally.
‘Deal.’ She flashed a slow smile that was dreamy and seductive.
‘Let’s put the barbecue on,’ I announced, rising. Stephen followed obediently.
‘I’ll just be a sec,’ I murmured and went inside to fetch the bowls of dips and bread I’d spent the morning making.
‘What’s his problem?’ I said to Big Boy as he sprawled at my feet. ‘I thought Stephen wanted to go overseas?’ Big Boy cocked his head and whimpered. Looking out, I saw Sally hovering near Stephen at the barbecue, deep in discussion.
As I returned she was saying, ‘But capitalism always reinvents itself!’
Stephen started to reply but clammed up as I approached.
‘What Marxist theories are you two cooking up?’ I said as I deposited a platter of steaks beside Stephen, their marbled flesh glowing deep red. He blinked, as if it were the first time he’d seen meat.
‘Stephen was just filling me in on the stock market.’
‘Oh? What about it?’ I arranged the dips on the table.
‘Just how uncertain it is these days,’ Stephen muttered.
‘Even I can see it’s still jittery – and I don’t really follow it,’ said Sally. ‘Stephen has some elaborate theories.’ She gave him a playful look. ‘You should back your judgement.’
Stephen chuckled. ‘Never.’
‘Stephen’s far too wise to gamble,’ I said. ‘Aren’t you?’
He didn’t meet my eye. ‘It’s not gambling, it’s investing.’
‘Do you dabble?’ asked Sally.
‘No.’ Stephen and I answered as one.
‘We leave that to others,’ I replied. ‘I’d prefer Stephen stick to theories. One day we might get an investment property – but stocks are too scary.’
‘You know that’s ridiculous,’ bridled Stephen. ‘You read the bad stuff and focus on it. Sally’s right – capitalism’s resilient.’
‘I have a few shares. Maybe we can exchange notes?’ Sally grinned.
‘Maybe,’ said Stephen, ‘when Bec’s not looking!’ He winked at me. Was this another secret? Had he been buying stocks without telling me?
‘What would you do if you won ten million dollars?’ said Sally suddenly as we settled into lunch.
Stephen topped up the glasses with a ruby-red shiraz. ‘I might buy a boat – always wanted one but they’re a money drain.’
I stared at him. He knew my feelings about boats. Was he deliberately trying to rile me?
‘I’d look after my family,’ he continued smoothly and leaned across to gently touch my knee. ‘Buy this one the diamond ring I couldn’t afford when we were married.’ His face stilled. ‘And see that the three people I made redundant this week were okay.’
‘What three people?’ I said, shocked.
‘I finally persuaded Jim and Lucy and Ellen to take voluntary redundancies.’
I watched him as if he were a stranger.
‘I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you.’ Stephen turned to Sally. ‘We’ve both been fighting to retain good staff but ultimately I had to make cuts.’
I fought back the words that wanted to surge forth. Better to save it for later when we were alone.
‘You think I sold them down the river,’ he said, meeting my eye.
‘Economic realities don’t go away,’ said Sally. ‘It clearly hurt you to do it.’
Stephen nodded, drained his glass and poured more with a steady hand. I wanted to cry. Stephen was becoming like the rest of them, the countless Heads of School through the university who were folding without a fight. And disturbingly he hadn’t discussed it with me. Until last week he’d been encouraging me to stand firm, and that’s what I thought he’d been doing too – using his vast intelligence to think of ways to create income streams rather than just cut and slash and throw valued staff out onto the street. What had changed?
‘What would you do if you won ten million dollars?’ he asked Sally.
‘Travel first class forever. I often go overseas to conferences and I have to fly economy. I hate it. It would be bliss to turn left as I walk onto the plane. And I’d acquire some fine antique jewellery. Bec could advise me.’ I didn’t smile and she blushed. ‘Sorry, did I say something wrong?’
I pulled my mind back to the conversation at hand. ‘Pardon?’
‘So, what would you do?’ asked Sally lightly.
‘I have no idea,’ I replied.
Sally laughed and tossed her head back gaily. ‘We’ll have to seduce you into the world of consumerism. For someone who writes so eloquently on jewellery, I’m surprised you’re not
hankering after some beautiful things of your own.’
‘It’s cultural history I write, not sales catalogues,’ I replied somewhat tersely. ‘Truly. Finding treasures in a dig. Absorbing them in museums. That’s more than enough.’
‘Don’t believe you,’ replied Sally flirtatiously.
‘Nor I,’ said Stephen. ‘You’ve always liked what I’ve given you.’
‘I have.’ My eyes suddenly welled up. ‘I love that jewellery.’ Because I love you. Please don’t grow distant. I quickly blinked the tears away. ‘And I’m always grateful to accept more. You got me, Sally,’ I laughed. ‘I do love beautiful things.’
• • •
Eucalyptus pods plopped from above, dislodged by cheeky gang-gang cockatoos screeching like rusty hinges as they feasted in the torpor of late afternoon. After Stephen had shown Sally around the garden that he had single-handedly rescued from weeds to turn into a peaceful native haven, we dispatched a second bottle of wine before we ambled to the beach. Big Boy’s tail bobbed like a feather duster as he ran ahead.
I felt the warmth of the sand as I watched Stephen and Sally rise in a clear green crest then disappear into a frothy haze, tumbling through the breakers. Our drenched black and white bundle jitterbugged in the shallows, barking as they emerged, racing back as they swam once more into deep water to rise and ride the crystal swell again.
As the mellow day merged to evening a pink glow engulfed the remaining straggle of beachcombers.
Was Stephen seeing another woman?
Stephen and Sally bodysurfed in on a wave. He seemed unusually relaxed with her. Was Sally his lover? Were they acting out a macabre game?
I shook the thought away. Perhaps I was just jealous that Sally hadn’t stayed with me. Irrational, seeing as it was hot and it was she who had been eager to swim.
She showered me with salty droplets as she ran up to her towel and smiled so sweetly I wondered how I could have held any dark feelings. ‘Come for a walk?’ She reached down and took my hand, hers cooling mine, and pulled me up. We left Stephen and Big Boy cavorting in the surf and I decided to show Sally a well-kept secret.
‘Wade through here.’ Lifting my dress I walked up to my thighs in the aqua water at the far end of the beach. ‘Careful of the rocks.’