by Derek Hansen
‘Of course they’ll be bigger,’ said Gregan. ‘Of course there’ll be world records. I spoke to Lothar, the boy wonder, just this morning. He’s growing out our new crop of trout. He says they’re coming along nicely.’
‘I’ve got to hand it to you,’ said Richo admiringly. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’
‘This was nothing,’ said Gregan. He put his arm around his partner and led him back to his table. ‘Did I ever tell you about the time I built a block of condos on a sacred site?’
Not Good Fish for Man to Eat
Adrian Tremaine was an adulterer.
He was neither ashamed of the fact nor boastful. He simply regarded his affairs as his right, part of the trappings of success, a fair reward for his hard work and the gambles he’d taken building his thriving business. He’d been a senior funds manager until a number of killings in the tech boom had provided him with the capital to launch out on his own. He took his best people with him and already his new company had become the darling of investment advisers and other fund managers who shrewdly invested part of their portfolio in his products.
Adrian was rich, but his wealth and power were not his only attractions. Far from it. Nature had gifted him height, presence, good looks and the physique of an athlete. Had he concentrated on sport he could have become a national hero. At various times he’d been tipped to represent Australia at both cricket and rugby. But sport had never been more than a diversion. Becoming a player in the rarefied world of investment was the only game that interested him.
When he chose partners for his liaisons he exercised the same care with which he selected investments. To his credit he didn’t prey on the young and innocent, the impressionable junior staff who were easy pickings for a man of his charm, looks and position. His preference was for women of substance who were not only beautiful but ambitious, rising stars who were driven and worked and played as hard as he did. In other words, busy women who wanted what he wanted and also wanted it without complications. He gave them a taste of the high life they could expect when they, too, reached the top: weekends in exotic places, splendid hotels and a whirl of fine restaurants. He gave them gifts and something every woman appreciates — his undivided attention. Adrian had charm to burn, intelligence and conversation, but it was his ability to make his partners feel chosen that set him apart from other men. Even Adrian baulked at the word but he could find none that fitted better.
Of course, his wife and family knew nothing about his extra-curricular activities and Adrian went to great lengths to ensure things remained that way. Most of his affairs were conducted offshore or at least interstate. One of his golden rules was, well, the golden rule: Never foul your own nest. As far as Adrian was concerned there wasn’t a woman alive worth the risk.
Until he met Suzanne.
Suzanne was a New Yorker, ambitious and no mere rising star. Her star had already ascended. At thirty-three she was a fixture in the Wall Street firmament, the subject of profiles in many notable publications including the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times and Time Magazine. While some of Adrian’s conquests had been all too aware that friendship with him was hardly an impediment to a burgeoning career, there was nothing Adrian could do to brighten Suzanne’s star. It already outshone his. His success did not impress her; it was merely the entry price to her circle. The promise of weekends in exotic places, the hotels and restaurants meant nothing to her. They were already part of her life. And just as nature had been kind to Adrian, it had been even kinder to her.
Undoubtedly, among the many reasons the Wall Street Journal and the like had been drawn to profile Suzanne was the fact that she didn’t look at all like financiers were supposed to look. Her face didn’t belong in financial pages but in glamorous magazines. She had it all — perfect features, perfect figure, naturally blonde hair, intelligence, sophistication and impeccable taste.
The instant Adrian laid eyes on her he realised she was his ideal of the perfect woman, the perfect prize and the perfect reward for his labours. When the meeting broke for coffee he immediately singled her out for his very special attention. She waved him off with the casual indifference with which stockmen dispatched flies.
Adrian had a simple policy towards being rebuffed. When he hit on a woman, she either responded favourably or was forgotten. He was a busy man and had no time to waste on pursuit. If the horse ain’t willing, he liked to say to his men friends at the squash club, giving it sugar lumps won’t change anything. No, you’re better off throwing your leg over another horse.
Adrian found other women who were willing but he couldn’t forget Suzanne. Suzanne was simply unforgettable. She became the standard by which he judged all other women and without exception they came up wanting. He created new investment products he knew would appeal to her and flew over to New York to present them. Mostly they met in boardrooms but sometimes he contrived to meet her over dinner. But those occasions were the exception. Dinner never led to breakfast and the only thing consummated was another business deal.
Adrian began to despair and his interest in other women waned. He even wondered if, at the age of forty-five, his libido was finally cracking under the pace. But he only had to sit in the same room as Suzanne or speak to her on the phone to realise that his libido was still firing on all cylinders. It simply shared the same focus he did.
Just when all seemed lost, fate intervened. The breakthrough came unexpectedly, at a convention in Hawaii. Adrian had decided to attend the moment he learned that Suzanne was one of the speakers. He finally met up with her at a function the evening after she’d delivered her paper. She was keeping a martini company and smiling at delegates who were obviously thrilled just to be in her proximity, though it was obvious to Adrian that she wasn’t quite so thrilled to be in theirs. Her smile when she spotted Adrian was her first genuine smile of the night.
‘Get me out of here,’ she said.
Adrian found a quiet table in a quiet bar.
‘I’ve just split with my husband,’ she said.‘I only agreed to speak here to get away.’
‘Get away?’ said Adrian.
‘Give him time to move out of the apartment. Now I’m stuck here for five more days, God help me,’ she said.
‘I have a house,’ said Adrian. ‘On a tiny, private island in Fiji. It’s nothing fancy. But it’s as far away from anywhere as anyone can get.’
‘What are we waiting for?’ she said.
Adrian had plenty of time to do some thinking on the plane from Honolulu to Nadi, and plenty of thinking needed to be done. Once he’d overcome his euphoria he had to address his stupidity. He couldn’t believe he was taking a woman other than his wife to his holiday home on Naviti Lau. Correction, his family’s holiday home. It broke his golden rule. Hell, it broke every rule! He wondered what had possessed him but didn’t have to look far to find the answer. She was asleep in the seat alongside him. Dear God! One glance confirmed she was worth the risk. But how much of a risk was he taking? As soon as the plane touched down in Nadi he put in an urgent call to the manager of the company that administered Naviti Lau to find out.
‘Don’t worry,’ the manager said. ‘You’re not Robinson Crusoe. You’re not the first homeowner to bring a girlfriend here. The Fijians understand. They know to be discreet.’
‘But what about Mary?’
‘Ahh . . .’ the manager said,‘Mary.’
Chubby, smiling, Seventh-Day Adventist Mary was the woman who looked after his holiday house in his absence and looked after him and his family when they were visiting. His wife and children adored her and the sentiment was reciprocated. She was more like the Fijian member of their family than hired help. When Mary’s husband had gone away, they’d helped her raise her two boys, provided shoes, clothes and finally introductions which had resulted in both of them finding work in Suva. Adrian was acutely aware of the embarrassment he would cause Mary. Asking her to turn a blind eye was also asking her to be party to his infidelity, to be disloyal to
his wife and family and to act contrary to her church-honed sense of morality.
But damn it!
Suzanne was special.
He refused to be deterred simply to spare the feelings of someone who, at the end of the day, was an employee. Mary, he decided, was simply a problem that had to be managed.
‘Have a word with her,’Adrian said to the manager.
‘Oh my God,’ said Suzanne when she saw the tiny six-seater charter plane that would take them out to the remote island.
‘Oh my God,’ she said when she saw the narrow grass landing strip and the sheer cliffs that fell away at each end.
‘Oh my God,’ she said again as she set foot in Adrian’s holiday home, but this time with an entirely different inflection.‘Nothing fancy, you said.’
Adrian’s house wasn’t fancy. It was spectacular, the rare conjunction of functionality and taste. The main building was circular and eighteen metres in diameter, like a large version of an African rondavel. The roof was a towering thatch of palm leaves supported by dark crossbeams and rafters made from the trunks of coconut palms. It sheltered a lounge/dining room, a small toilet and a good-sized kitchen. The walls, floor and dining table were all white polished concrete. There were scatter rugs from the Middle East and deep stuffed sofas and chairs, elegant coffee tables and, on the terrace, the most inviting sun lounges Suzanne had ever seen. There were no windows; instead there was a series of connected glass doors across the front of the building, running fully a third of the circumference. The doors could be pulled back against each other to reveal a lofty, uninterrupted view of the western side of the island, a panorama of palm tops and a sweep of ocean from Ovalau to the south almost to Vanua Levu to the north.
‘My God, it’s breathtaking,’ said Suzanne.
Adrian’s pleasure at her reaction was tempered by the appearance of Mary in the corridor leading to the kitchen.
‘Helloo . . .’ Mary said. She was smiling dutifully, but Adrian could see the hurt and reproach in her eyes.
‘Mary!’ he said. He kissed both her cheeks and gave her his usual hug but she may just as well have been hewn from wood for all the response he got.
‘Mary, I’d like you to meet a business colleague,’ he said. ‘This is Suzanne.’
‘Helloo,’ said Mary.
‘Hi,’ said Suzanne with the same lack of interest with which she viewed waiters, bellhops and cab drivers.
‘Let me show you around,’ said Adrian. ‘The bures below are the bedrooms.’
Two pairs of bures separated by a swimming pool nestled among palms on the level below the main building. Each pair had a bedroom at each end with an elegant polished concrete bathroom in between. Each bedroom boasted its own private terrace looking out over the ocean. As befits a holiday home for the rich and privileged, the architects had made sure there was no need for curtains or blinds.
‘Two bedrooms for the family and two for guests,’ said Adrian.
‘What am I?’ asked Suzanne.
‘A special guest,’ said Adrian hurriedly. ‘Special guests qualify as family.’
His spirits sank when he discovered Mary had made up both rooms in the family unit. While Suzanne had suggested escaping to Naviti Lau there’d been no discussion of sleeping arrangements. He’d just assumed they’d sleep together. At that moment Adrian realised he could have flown all the way down from Hawaii for nothing. He closed his eyes expecting her to say,‘Which room is mine?’
‘Which has the bigger bed?’ she asked instead.
‘This one,’ said Adrian cautiously.
‘Should do us nicely,’ she said.‘Now why don’t you get our bags and mix up a couple of margaritas while I shower.’
Adrian danced back up the steps to the main building.
Adrian opened the fridge door, grabbed the bottle of margarita mix and glanced quickly over the shelves. They groaned with food and cans of Fiji Bitter. He smiled. Mary may not like the circumstances of his visit but they didn’t appear to have affected the way she did her job.
‘Lots of beer,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Mary.
‘Lots of fish.’
‘Yes.’
There were two plates of fish, each covered by cling wrap. One had the large pieces of fillet he was accustomed to, cut from big fish like tuna, Spanish mackerel and wahoo. Beneath it, the second plate held six or seven small fish, none more than thirty centimetres long. This puzzled Adrian because, while he liked fish, he hated fish-bones. He didn’t eat small fish for that reason and stared at them with distaste.
‘What’s for dinner?’ he asked.
‘Walu,’ said Mary. ‘Spanish mackerel. I buy from Mika.’ Mika was the boat boy who looked after the boats in the lagoon and sometimes took him fishing. ‘Caught fresh this morning.’
‘Well done,’ said Adrian, relieved that he wouldn’t have the embarrassment of pulling small bones out of his teeth in front of Suzanne. It dawned on him that the small fish were probably Mary’s. Fijians preferred their fish small.
‘First I make you sashimi to eat with your drinks.’
‘Thank you,’ said Adrian, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t expected Mary to be quite so obliging. ‘That’s very thoughtful.’
‘Make special for you and Miss Suzanne,’ said Mary.
Adrian and Suzanne were lounging on recliners watching the setting sun dip over the distant island of Ovalau, their second frozen margaritas in hand, when Mary brought out the sashimi.
‘Oh my God,’ said Suzanne.
Adrian couldn’t help smiling as Mary placed the plate between them. She’d arranged the pieces of sashimi in the outline of a sunfish, as his wife had taught her, with two tiny bowls of soy sauce laced with wasabi in the middle. He passed Suzanne a pair of chopsticks.
‘My God,’ said Suzanne. She took another piece.‘This fish is superb. Delicious! I don’t know that I’ve ever tasted better.’
‘I don’t know that I have, either,’ said Adrian. And he meant it. The slivers of fish were sweet, tender and subtle in flavour. He looked at Mary in a new light. Maybe the manager was right. Maybe Fijians, Mary included, were more understanding than he’d expected. ‘Well done, well done,’ he said.‘What kind of fish is this?’
‘Fiji fish,’ said Mary noncommittally. She retreated to the kitchen.
By the time Mary brought them their dinner they were openly flirting.
‘Walu,’ said Mary.‘Cook rare on garlic mash potatoes with green beans and salad.’
‘Mary, you really are a treasure,’ said Suzanne.
Again Adrian had to smile. His wife had taught Mary how to bake fish so that it was just cooked through and how to make garlic mash. Clearly she’d taught Mary well. With the green beans and salad it was exactly the sort of meal Suzanne liked. He topped up Suzanne’s wine and they clinked glasses.
‘Bon appetit,’ he said.
Mary stayed only long enough to clear away the dishes and bring them coffee, before retiring to her bure. Her bure had not been included in the tour Adrian had given Suzanne. It was on another level below the bedrooms, tucked away out of sight beneath a giant fig tree. Suzanne wasn’t the kind to show interest in employee accommodation.
‘Seems I have you all to myself,’ said Adrian.
‘Indeed,’ said Suzanne. The candlelight was in her eyes but that wasn’t what made them glitter. He’d seen that look many times before. Adrian had no doubt that the most unforgettable night of his life lay ahead of him.
‘I can’t understand it,’ said Adrian. He was both bewildered and embarrassed. ‘I’ve heard of this sort of thing happening but it’s the first time it has ever happened to me.’
‘First time it has ever happened to me too,’ said Suzanne.‘I promise you that.’ She was not amused. ‘I usually have the opposite effect on men.’
Disappointment hung like a curtain between them.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Adrian.
‘So am I. Maybe you shouldn’t have had so much
to drink.’
‘I can drink three times that amount without problems,’ said Adrian hotly. Humiliation had replaced his feelings of bewilderment, and humiliation was not a sensation he was accustomed to or enjoyed.
‘Whatever,’ said Suzanne and yawned.
‘A dawnbreaker,’ said Adrian.‘I promise you, when the sun comes up, so will I. Ever since I was a teenager it’s been a race to see which rises first.’
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ said Suzanne.
But the sun rose all on its own.
Adrian spent the morning apologising.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Suzanne said.
‘It happens,’ she said.
But nothing she said made Adrian feel any better.
‘Come on, I’ll drive you around the island,’ he said, seeking distraction.
He took her to Nautilus Beach where storms often brought nautilus shells up from the depths and deposited them on the beach, but the only shells they found were either cracked or broken. He took her Lawedua Cove where the beautiful white lawedua birds nested, but they’d all gone searching for fish far out to sea. He took her to Chieftain’s Leap where they could look up the length of the island to the distant lighthouse marking a channel through the reef.
‘What’s that?’ said Suzanne suddenly, startled by a rustling in the bushes.
‘Deer,’ said Adrian. ‘Someone thought it would be a good idea to introduce deer to the island to control the undergrowth.’
Three does and a fawn stepped tentatively into the clearing.
‘How cute,’ said Suzanne.
‘Actually they’re a bloody nuisance,’ said Adrian. ‘They’re the reason all the properties have fences and gates. They eat everything: plants, shrubs, vegetables. Even our precious roses.’
‘My, you are a ray of sunshine,’ said Suzanne.
Once again Adrian found himself apologising.
Mary had made them a salad for lunch but it was too hot to do anything more than pick at it. They sat reading in the shade on the terrace where they enjoyed the benefit of the slight breeze until it died away.
