The Affair

by Bunty Avieson

  They continued their wait in silence, huddled together out of the rain, their shoulders almost touching. It was a forced intimacy that felt a little awkward. Instinctively they looked in opposite directions, angling their bodies as far away from each other as they could without losing the protection of the awning.

  The stranger looked up the street at the retreating cars. He noted with idle interest the different makes and models. Nina looked at her feet, going through what she had in the shopping bags. A whole fresh Atlantic salmon. Mixed salad greens. New potatoes. A very expensive bottle of balsamic vinegar.

  Friday night was her special night with James, her husband of just eight months. They rarely made plans to go out; they preferred to cook together at home, ignoring the rest of the world. It was their end-of-week ritual. Usually they finished off a bottle of wine while they cooked, then they opened another to drink during dinner.

  James, who came from a family of vignerons in the Hunter Valley, would bring home the wine, usually something a little bit interesting for them to try, while Nina was in charge of the food. It had been another busy week for James with lots of new clients to see in the evenings and Nina had found herself alone each night in their apartment, not knowing what to do with herself.

  She was looking forward to having him all to herself tonight. She missed him. Just how much she missed him was evident from the amount of money she had splashed out on the salmon – and the imported Italian vinegar. It was outrageously overpriced and Nina knew it. She brushed aside the twinge of guilt. They didn’t have much time together so when they did, it ought to be special.

  Cars crawled past, splashing muddy water onto the footpath. Nina spotted a taxi a short distance away, its roof light glowing, indicating that it was available. The man beside her saw it too. He moved imperceptibly back, indicating she would have no argument from him. Nina noticed the gesture and appreciated it. She was in no mood to fight for a taxi.

  As she bent to pick up the shopping bags she had a flash of memory: the woman in the starched white cap handing her those bags and smiling at her from behind the cash register in David Jones Food Hall. Nina saw herself handing over a $50 note. She had received just a handful of coins back. That was all that was in her purse now.

  She took out her purse and opened it, sorting through the coins, knowing exactly what was there, but hoping anyway.

  ‘Damn,’ she said softly. She turned to the stranger beside her. ‘You take the taxi. It looks like I’ll be getting the bus.’

  The stranger’s face showed surprise, then concern. ‘The bus stop is five blocks away, all the way at the other end of the road,’ he said. ‘You’ll get drenched.’

  Nina shrugged and gathered her shopping bags, ready to brave the rain. If she didn’t stop to think about how unpleasant the walk would be, if she just got on with it, she knew it would be easier.

  ‘Which way are you going?’ asked the stranger.

  ‘Elizabeth Bay,’ replied Nina. She thought she could make out a dozen or so people waiting under the bus shelter. She hoped they would make room for her and it wouldn’t be too long before the number 311 rumbled along.

  ‘I can drop you off at Elizabeth Bay. I’m going that way anyway. I’m going on to Rushcutters Bay,’ the stranger offered.

  It was tempting but Nina shook her head, sending more droplets down the back of her dress. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have enough money.’

  Nina winced as she said it. She hated that phrase. It seemed that she had been hearing it – and using it – as long as she could remember. It had been a constant refrain growing up in rural Canada with lots of bills and a frugal father.

  Something in her tone caught the stranger’s attention. He had been about to graciously accept the offered taxi and be on his way, happy to be out of the rain and confident that he had tried to do the right thing by this half-drowned, vulnerable-looking woman. But the catch in her voice held him. He wasn’t sure what it meant, what it revealed, but something inside him responded. Suddenly he was aware he wanted to make everything all right for her, to see that elfin smile again.

  ‘I’m going that way anyway,’ he insisted gently.

  Nina looked into a pair of sympathetic blue eyes and a cheerful open face. It was disarming. The man looked to be in his late twenties, he was dressed casually in an open-neck white shirt and tailored trousers. Nina wasn’t tall and nor was he. He looked pretty wholesome and safe but Nina was naturally cautious. She had been in Australia a little over seven months and was still unsure of herself in many situations. At home in Canada she would probably have bounded into the taxi, no questions asked. But this was Australia and she still didn’t feel confident enough to presume anything.

  ‘No, but thank you,’ she said, trying not to sound rude. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful when he was being so kind.

  The taxi inched forward in the traffic and Nina separated her shopping bags into two bundles, taking one in each hand.

  The stranger tried one more time. ‘You have far too many bags to struggle down the street. I’m going past Elizabeth Bay anyway. It’s no skin off my nose.’

  Nina smiled at the expression. So he wouldn’t lose any skin off his nose. James sometimes said things like that. It was one of those odd Aussie sayings, like getting ‘rugged up’ against the cold.

  The man felt an unexpected ripple of delight to see the sudden smile. It completely transformed this woman’s sad little face. He interpreted it as acquiescence. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘We can split the fare at Elizabeth Bay if you like. Between two of us it won’t be much.’

  Nina thought she may have enough to scrape together half. She hoped so.

  The taxi stopped beside them. The stranger took Nina’s bags and moved past her to the curb, grimacing at the rain as it poured onto his hair and face. As he reached to open the back door he stumbled on a section of broken cement, splashing dirty puddle water up his trousers and onto Nina’s dress. It had been intended as a gallant gesture and he felt immediately foolish.

  ‘Sorry. I’m such a klutz,’ he said.

  He looked so genuinely embarrassed that Nina felt immediately at ease. Smooth, sophisticated people left her feeling intimidated. But clumsy she understood. It made up her mind for her.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It can’t possibly make any difference now. I’m already so wet.’

  The man smiled. ‘Don’t let on to the driver that we don’t know each other or it will cost us more,’ he said softly as Nina climbed into the back seat.

  Nina didn’t understand what he meant but another flash of lightning stopped any further hesitation. She slid across the back seat, grateful to be out of the rain. The stranger handed her bags to her and climbed in beside her. They both were soaking wet, dripping water onto the vinyl seat and making muddy puddles on the floor with their shoes.

  The taxi was new and spotless, with plastic covering the inside of the doors. Nina was conscious of the driver’s eyes in the rear vision mirror looking from one to the other, taking in their bedraggled state.

  ‘Where to?’ he asked.

  ‘Elizabeth Bay,’ said Nina.

  ‘Rushcutters Bay,’ said the stranger.

  They spoke at the same time then laughed.

  The driver’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Are you sharing?’ he asked, his voice indicating his disapproval.

  They answered at the same time.

  ‘Yes,’ said Nina.

  ‘No,’ said the stranger.

  Nina was confused.

  ‘Well, what’s it to be then?’ asked the driver.

  Apart from the rear vision mirror, all that Nina could see of him was the back of his shoulders and head. He was large and beefy with a small shiny, pink bald patch and a broad Australian accent. His tone was hearty but his eyes weren’t smiling. They were suspicious.

  Nina opened her mouth to speak but the stranger cut in. ‘I’m going to Rushcutters Bay and dropping my friend here at Elizabeth Bay on the way.’
>
  The driver stayed parked at the curb.

  ‘You know it is 75 per cent of the fare per person if you are cab sharing,’ he said, adding ominously, ‘that’s the law.’

  Nina knew nothing of Australian cab etiquette, let alone cab law. In Canada if you wanted to share a cab that was your business. She didn’t understand what this driver was making a fuss about. She was happy for the stranger to take charge so she sat back in the seat, confident he would sort it out.

  The driver continued to stay parked at the curb, waiting for an answer. The stranger ignored him. He didn’t like his attitude. And he wasn’t about to be intimidated by a taxi driver. He knew the law, too, at least enough to work around it when it suited him. He conveyed his total lack of regard for the driver by ignoring him and beaming at Nina. His smile was broad and open; it seemed to embrace her like a long-lost friend.

  ‘What an incredible coincidence bumping into each other in that meeting,’ he boomed in a loud, jolly voice. He was looking at Nina but she understood his words were for the benefit of the driver.

  The driver’s disembodied eyes looked across from one to the other of them in the back seat, then with a heavy and pointed sigh, he pulled the taxi away from the curb. He was muttering to himself, words that Nina couldn’t make out. But his manner made it clear he was not happy and not altogether believing.

  ‘How long has it been since we saw each other?’ continued the stranger. ‘Two years? Your hair is different. What have you done?’

  Nina smiled. She had worn her hair short, tucked behind her ears for most of her adult life. The stranger looked completely guileless, his expression innocent and enquiring, yet he seemed so mischievous that Nina couldn’t help responding.

  ‘I decided I was too young for mauve so I’ve gone back to my natural mouse colour,’ she replied loudly, deciding to play along.

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame. I always thought that menopausal mauve suited you,’ replied the stranger. ‘It went so well with the pink hotpants you used to wear.’

  Nina saw the driver’s eyes shoot up and stare at her. She repressed her smile. The stranger noticed the driver’s attention. It spurred him on.

  ‘Are you still working in … in …’ his voice trailed off.

  ‘Interior design? Oh yes. I’m doing my bit to turn slums into palaces.’ Nina felt wicked. Like a naughty child, playing up at the back of the classroom.

  ‘That’s right,’ nodded the stranger. ‘Interior design. You’re an indoor artiste, an ambience engineer.’

  Nina had never heard it called that before. She rolled it around in her mind for a moment. Ambi ence engineer. Mmmmm. It had a certain appeal. She tried to picture it on her business cards and laughed out loud.

  The driver sniggered as he turned left into William Street, joining the main throng of traffic heading out of the city. He made it clear he didn’t think much of the job title.

  The stranger looked at the driver then at Nina. He was clearly enjoying himself, his manner playful and infectious. Nina found herself relaxing, sitting by this amusing stranger. She shifted in the seat, liking the squelching sound her shoes made as she slipped them off her feet.

  ‘When are you going to do my place?’ he continued. ‘I still need help with my lounge room.’ His tone suggested that they had had this conversation many times before.

  ‘Help?’ responded Nina loudly. ‘You need more than help. If I told you once I told you a thousand times, floral pink walls with that baby blue carpet would never work. But, oh no, you wouldn’t listen.’ Nina watched as the driver’s eyes flashed across to the stranger.

  ‘Well, what would you suggest in that room?’ asked the stranger.

  Nina put her head to one side, feigning thoughtfulness. She adopted her best interior decorator tone, speaking slowly and deliberately, as if the possibilities of this man’s lounge room were the most important thing in the world to her. ‘I think you need to reflect your own personality, your own interests …’

  The stranger raised an eyebrow. His shoulders were turned towards Nina and he focussed all his attention on her. She could feel the intensity of his scrutiny. Oh yeah, this will be good, his manner seemed to say.

  Nina continued. ‘A living room should be somewhere you feel comfortable because it says “you”.’

  The man could tell she was thinking while she was talking. He watched her with interest, keen to hear what she would come up with. He was relishing every moment of this game. Nina’s large expressive brown eyes darted about, looking past him, her mind working furiously. She locked back onto his gaze with a triumphant little smile.

  ‘The medieval jousting you like to do on weekends. Why not bring those suits of armour and the racks out of the basement, I mean, your dungeon. The racks would be perfect as the core idea for your living area.’

  The stranger fell back against the seat laughing, his enjoyment contagious. Nina felt it pass through her body as a wave of pleasure.

  Outside the rain fell steadily, producing a pleasant rat-a-tat sound on the roof. The windows had fogged up from their breath, making it difficult for them to make sense of the buildings and people outside, which passed by in a whirl of unrecognisable shapes. The streetlights came on, casting feeble halos that barely penetrated the silver curtain of rain. Inside the taxi the air was steamy and close.

  The car behind sounded its horn and the taxi driver was forced to turn his attention to the road. Nina knew he had been listening to every word of their conversation. His body and eyes were facing the road but his focus was very much in the back seat with them. His presence heightened their intimacy as every word they spoke was loaded with double meaning. Nina and the stranger seemed to exist within their own private world, a world they were creating together.

  ‘And are you still wearing red-and-blue tights and playing Spider-Man at children’s parties for a living?’ asked Nina.

  She looked across at the stranger, her eyes wide and innocent, her mouth gently lifted at the corners in an enquiring half-smile.

  The stranger squirmed in his seat. He looked Nina over, considering her carefully. ‘Touché,’ he said softly so that only she could hear. He leaned forward as he spoke, his breath warm against Nina’s wet shoulder. She was conscious of his closeness. His light cotton shirt was plastered against his chest. He wasn’t a big man but he was compact and muscular. She was very aware of his physicality, his broad chest and the heat that emanated from him, adding to the steamy humidity inside the cab.

  He leaned back and looked at her, the smile fading from his face as he shook his head sadly. ‘I’m afraid my Spider-Man days are over. Papa died a few months ago and I had to take over the family business.’

  His mood changed so abruptly and his voice suddenly was so sad that Nina wondered if this were true. She was taken aback momentarily. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, Nina unsure what to say. The driver kept his gaze intently on the road ahead, his windscreen wipers working furiously. Nina started to regret that she had been so flippant about Spider-Man. She had been having so much fun, she had overdone it. She had been guilty of doing exactly that since she was a child. Her father had always been telling her ‘Nina, you’ve gone too far,’ and so she had learned to tone down her natural exuberance.

  The stranger saw the frown on her face. He hadn’t meant to upset her with his seriousness. What a sensitive little creature she was. He wanted the carefree, playful girl back. He slid his foot along the floor, out of view of the driver, and gently tapped hers. It’s okay, it seemed to say. He smiled and Nina felt herself relax again.

  ‘It was a terrible shock for all of us,’ continued the stranger. ‘And now I have so much to do. I have to go back to Italy to sort out the family estate.’

  He kept his head down, then looked up sadly, theatrically, through the rain-streaked window. The taxi slowed in the traffic. They were approaching a huge flashing Coca-Cola sign. It towered over the intersection at the heart of Kings
Cross. Usually Nina liked to watch the sign change shape, morphing into a new image. But tonight she ignored it, totally absorbed in the surreal conversation she was sharing with this interesting man. Nina realised she was completely happy, sitting in the back of the slow-moving taxi. The time, all the stresses of the day, her past, her future, everything fell away.

  ‘Italy, why Italy?’ she asked.

  The stranger looked at the passing shops for inspiration. The taxi drew level with an inner-city coffee house, a place he knew well. He often popped in there for a leisurely breakfast with the newspapers. Nina knew it well too. She sometimes dropped by for a quick coffee while she was shopping. The windows of the café were covered in posters and large striped umbrellas dripped over empty tables on the footpath.

  ‘Oh, don’t you remember?’ asked the stranger.

  Nina could tell by his tone he was feeling pretty pleased with himself. She smiled, looking forward to whatever was coming.

  ‘I’m sure I told you. My family owns the Lavazza empire.’

  Nina followed his eyes to a poster in the window of the café. Lavazza Qualita O’ro it declared in gigantic type above a photo of a steaming cup of rich black coffee in an impossibly white cup with matching saucer.

  ‘That Lavazza coffee?’ she asked, pointing.

  The stranger reacted as if he was noticing the poster for the first time.

  ‘Oh God, they have our old poster up. Oh, that’s so frustrating. Yes, that Lavazza coffee empire.’

  Nina considered the stranger. She allowed her eyes to range over his face, taking in his fair hair and freckled complexion. She raised one eyebrow and pursed her lips. Then she slowly and deliberately looked over the rest of him, ending with a derisive snort at his trousers tucked into mismatching socks. Without a word, she had conveyed her message. Italian indeed!

  The stranger enjoyed her appraisal. He found it acutely seductive to have this enigmatic beauty, with the pixie smile and the big sad eyes, looking him over.