The Affair

by Bunty Avieson

  They lay together on the floor of Leo’s lounge room, a gentle harbour breeze wafting over their naked skin, drying the sweat and cooling their heated bodies. Nina ran her toe along the arch of Leo’s foot.

  ‘You are the most desirable woman I have ever known,’ he declared.

  Nina believed him. She felt completely sensuous. This man aroused feelings in her of wantonness that she had never felt before.

  ‘Who are you, Miss Knee? Where did you spring from?’

  Nina continued caressing Leo’s foot, pushing her foot between his toes, then pulling it out and pushing it back in. It was lewd, unsubtle and highly erotic.

  ‘I am your most wicked desire. I am your love slave, here to do obscene things to you …’ Nina smiled suggestively and slid her body slowly across Leo’s. The apartment faced north and the dappled sunlight moved across the carpet, over the rug and their writhing bodies and then up the wall as the afternoon turned into early evening.

  Leo knew almost nothing about this woman. She was enigmatic and mysterious. When they were together he felt that he had all of her, she was wholly present. It was only after she was gone that he realised he had nothing.

  She talked happily of her past but completely avoided the present. He knew she was married. The ring on her left hand told him that. And he guessed she was unhappy. But those details seemed irrelevant to what was between them. When they were together they were both who they wanted to be. Leo gave more of himself than he ever had before. And Nina gave him her very essence, while remaining impossibly elusive.

  He was intrigued, tantalised. And completely smitten. The more she held back, the more he wanted her. He asked her to call him Leo. He didn’t want to be Count Mauro any more. He wanted to hear her say his name, his real name. He delighted in the sound of her lilting Canadian voice speaking his name.

  He had wanted to ask for her phone number but as he skirted towards it, he had sensed her pulling back. It was enough for today. She was calling him Leo. He lay on his back on the carpet staring at the ceiling for a long time after she left. She was so mercurial, he didn’t want to force anything. He knew instinctively that he had to be patient or risk losing her forever. He didn’t doubt her feelings for him. He believed they connected on every level. When they were together he felt light and playful. With Nina he was constantly laughing and filled with energy.

  He would have to be content waiting until their date next Saturday.

  Today he discovered her name was Nina, she was 28 years old and her birthday was 20 May. He had seen it on the inside of her small silver watch as he removed it and laid it aside on the carpet. Happy 21st Nina, love Larry. 20/5/92.

  Nina. I want you, Miss Nina.

  *

  Tiger nearly bowled Nina over when she finally returned home just after six. She’d raced down the driveway feeling guilty. She hadn’t meant to be out this long. She was surprised and relieved that James hadn’t come home yet. She heard his key in the lock just as she stepped into the shower. Seconds later his head appeared over the shower curtain.

  ‘Hi. Sorry I’m so late.’

  He looked exhausted. His face was grey and he had bags under his eyes. Nina didn’t notice.

  ‘That’s okay, honey,’ she replied, unable to meet his eye as she soaped her body. ‘Boy, it was a hot one today wasn’t it? Just freshening up. I’ll be out in a second. Why don’t you open a bottle of something cold?’

  James walked back into the lounge room. He had been worried that Nina would be angry with him for all the time he was spending at the office. Miranda wasn’t speaking to Felix at all, completely pissed off at what she called his total neglect of her over the past few weeks. James was relieved that Nina was giving him space. He had told her he had a lot of work things to attend to and she understood. No childish attention-seeking tantrums from his Nina. Not her style. He was such a lucky man. He wondered if she would still feel this way after tomorrow night. D-day. Time to throw himself on his sword.

  For now he wanted to make the most of it. A quiet dinner in front of the TV with his loving wife.

  CHAPTER 11

  Sunday, 17 February 1991

  They drove in silence up the freeway to the Hunter Valley. James was consumed by what was to come, what he was going to say. He thought of fleeing the country. Just taking off, never to return. Like Christopher Skase. Spend the rest of his days living it up on a Spanish island. Unfortunately he didn’t have any money to live it up anywhere and he couldn’t imagine doing that to his mother, never being able to come home.

  Then there was the face-the-music approach. Take what he deserved and rebuild his own self respect. There’d be some tough years where everyone would hate him but eventually he would come out the other side. Sounded workable in theory, but how would he actually cope when he was in the eye of the storm?

  Well, he would know soon enough. In a few hours that is exactly where he would be. He would be announcing to his family that they were all screwed. He had screwed them. Not deliberately. He wasn’t that smart. He was an idiot. A fool. But the result was the same. They were screwed.

  He was concerned that Nina had no idea what was to come. He had tried half-heartedly to broach the subject with her but had not been able to. She would look up from whatever she had been doing, her expression dreamy and far away, and somehow the words would not come out. But in a perverse kind of way James was happy that she did not know. That it would be as much of a shock for her as for the rest of the family. It was a way of focussing the disaster. Giving it a climax. Making it as hard for himself as he possibly could.

  He supposed he could have prepared Nina, then tried to get each member of the family alone and told them individually, tried to explain himself, one-on-one. But that didn’t seem practical. Instead he was going to drop the bombshell and then stand there, a ready target for the combined force of all their outrage and anger. He deserved it. It would be cleansing. He just hoped he was up to it.

  Nina, sitting beside her husband as they motored down the freeway, was miles away from him. She was wearing that absent expression that James had noticed but misunderstood. She was thinking of Leo. The smell of his skin. The feel of his hands. The urgency and lust she had felt. She was astounded by its intensity, shocked by her own wanton behaviour. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, sitting next to her husband, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt wicked and lecherous and bad. Not the good little Nina that the rest of the world expected. But bad. It was glorious.

  She thought of their farewell yesterday. She was reliving every lingering moment, when she and Leo had been trying to say goodbye, and feeling the bittersweet pain that set in as soon as she had left him. She marvelled at how she could find pleasure in such pain. Missing him hurt, but with a kind of poignancy. She was happy knowing he was in the world, in her life, and confident knowing that he would be thinking of her too. It made it seem like they were still together even when they were not.

  She was thinking also about that spot below his ear, where she liked to nuzzle. She was remembering his hands, not large, but strong, with long tapering fingers and neatly trimmed fingernails. Just the thought of those hands, roaming over her body, sent a wave of longing through her. Those hands that knew her so intimately, knew her secrets, responded to her body’s sighs.

  *

  Patty cooked her famous lamb roast with everybody’s favourite baked vegetables. She always remembered and served each person plenty of whatever it was she knew they liked. For Frederick it was potatoes, Mark preferred pumpkin, Amanda – beetroot, James – carrots. Nina had once admired the baked turnip, more as something to say than because of any great love for the vegetable, but it had been duly noted and, in keeping with Wilde family tradition, Patty gave her a heaped serving of baked turnip at every opportunity. There was rich, pan-juice gravy, homemade mint sauce and a few bottles of choice red wine from the cellar.

  James had hinted to his mother that he had some news to share so he hoped t
hey could get dinner out of the way early. Patty had worried what it could be. She hoped James and Nina hadn’t decided to leave Australia and move back to Canada, though she kept her fears to herself. She didn’t like to think how Frederick would respond to that after James had only just returned to the family fold and business.

  Patty kept looking anxiously at James, hoping for some clue as to what might be going on. ‘Isn’t it lovely that we can be together again for a meal?’ she said for the third time. ‘I feel very spoiled to have all my family around me again so soon.’

  James smiled wanly. Amanda admonished her sons loudly as they bickered and played with their food. It was a tense meal, though no-one really knew why. They were all relieved when it was over and James suggested they move into the sitting room. He stood in front of the huge open fireplace as he waited for the family to make themselves comfortable on the couches and armchairs around the room. Amanda sat her two boys in front of a Wiggles video in another room, then settled herself by Mark’s side. Her face was icy.

  Nina was surprised by the sudden formality James was obviously keen to impose. She was further bewildered by Patty’s insistence that she sit near James, in the armchair where Patty usually sat. Then her mother-in-law perched on a low ottoman by Frederick’s feet. What was James up to? Nina noticed James wasn’t meeting anyone’s gaze. He stood still, shoulders slightly slumped, hands behind his back, swaying slightly on his feet. Nina noticed the tic beneath his left eye. She felt suddenly and inexplicably apprehensive.

  ‘Go on, boy, we’re all here. What’s your news?’ said Frederick.

  James winced. He realised that in getting them all together he might have overdone the theatrics. All his bravado deserted him. He couldn’t bring himself to look up and into the faces of his family. His mouth felt like cotton wool. His hands stayed tightly clasped behind his back, gripping each other to quell their shaking.

  ‘I have some rather bad news, I’m afraid,’ he began. ‘I’m sorry for getting you all here thinking I may have some good news to announce. I don’t. But it was important that you all be present to hear what I have to say.’

  The mood in the room changed from expectant to wary. Everyone subtly shifted their positions, suddenly not so comfortable in their seats. James noticed and decided it was best if he ploughed right in, before he lost heart.

  ‘I’ve lost my share of Wilde Wines. I listed it as an asset on an investment some years ago and I’m afraid I have lost it. All of it.’

  There, he had said it. As plainly and bluntly as he could. It was out in the open. But there was no thunderclap, no bolt of lightning to accompany his words and James felt no relief. His announcement was met with blank faces. James’s heart was racing, pumping the adrenalin around his body. He was ready for fight or flight but his audience was way behind him.

  ‘What are you saying, boy?’ asked Frederick Wilde. The old man’s tone was gruff but not unkind. To him it seemed his youngest son had his knickers in a knot over something that made no sense. Frederick was prepared to be patient, get to the bottom of whatever was bothering the lad, then sort it out. He was looking forward to uncorking that eight-year-old cabernet from Coonawarra that he had been given and which was now sitting on the sideboard.

  James realised no-one in the room was following him. He had thought spilling it all out would bring on the storm, but he was still only on the outside edge, working his way in. He sighed and started on one of the many speeches he had rehearsed in the past week. He nearly lost his nerve a few times, but he had started this and he had no choice now but to keep going.

  ‘When I went to London at the end of 1987 with Felix, I became a “name” for Lloyd’s of London Insurance. To do that I had to show that in the unlikely event of being called upon, I had assets of at least $250,000. So I gave them a copy of my letter of deed of Wilde’s Wines …’

  At the mention of Lloyd’s of London, Mark and Frederick each felt a tremor of unease. Frederick remembered snippets of a conversation some years ago. He couldn’t remember the details, just that he had told James no. Mark thought of his friend William Nichols, who had lost the sheep farm left to him by his family.

  ‘… I joined a couple of syndicates, underwrote them, and, although I was assured this would never happen, it has. Due to a series of unprecedented disasters in America, my syndicates have been called upon to pay out a lot of money – millions.’

  James’s voice wavered and he paused.

  ‘How much do you personally owe?’ asked Mark.

  James swallowed. Straight for the jugular. Thanks, brother. James lifted his face and looked about him for the first time. He felt the fixed attention of his family like piercing arrows, trained on him and shooting relentlessly. He found a spot on the wall behind them all and kept his eyes focussed on that.

  ‘I showed that I had assets of $250,000 but due to the clause of unlimited liability, I am required to pay everything I have. Every single cent that can conceivably be called mine. Down to my cufflinks.’

  Mark looked at his younger brother. His face and his voice were incredulous. ‘You signed an investment contract giving unlimited liability? Are you mad?’

  James felt he was almost at the centre of the storm. Nearly there. He felt like he was outside his body, watching and appraising. ‘Here it comes,’ he thought.

  He said aloud: ‘Mark, it was an incredibly stupid thing to do. I realise that now. Mad, no. Very, very stupid? Yes. Oh yes. Believe me when I say I have never felt so stupid or angry with myself in my life.’

  Frederick Wilde spoke. His tone was cold, controlled and direct. ‘You invested your share in Lloyd’s and now you have lost it. Is that what you’re saying, boy?’

  He rose in his armchair, his arms taking his weight as he found his legs were suddenly unsteady. But his mind was sharp and completely focussed. He understood in an instant James’s phone call the previous week about cash in the kitty. He also understood the ramifications of what James was saying.

  ‘Have you lost my winery?’ His eyes bulged and his voice rose from a growl to a roar, ‘HAVE YOU LOST MY WINERY?’

  Frederick’s words surged across the quiet room, ominous and threatening, like a rolling wave of thunder. He glared at his son, his mouth open, a gob of spittle hanging from his bottom lip, while his words reverberated inside the head of each person present. It sent a chill up Nina’s spine. Frederick Wilde at the moment of realisation that all he had worked for all his life, all he had built up, was under threat, was a formidable sight. Nina had always sensed he was a man of passion and fire, holding back his energy, keeping it on a tight rein. She felt she was watching the real man emerge, his emotions exploding before her eyes.

  James fell back against the mantelpiece as the force of his father’s anger and rage hit him. It was a like a solid blow in his abdomen, into his very core. He felt nauseous, as if he really had taken a punch.

  Mark also leapt to his feet in shock, though he was unaware he was doing so. He stood facing James, his face a mirror of his father’s. Amanda, overcome by the tension in the room, burst into tears, gasping with deep, silent sobs.

  James’s whole body was tense but his mind stayed strangely calm. He thought he had finally reached the epicentre of the storm. But he was wrong. Sitting quietly on the footstool, unnoticed by everyone else, was James’s mother. She had said nothing, given no obvious indication of how she was feeling. While everyone’s attention was focussed on Frederick, Patty slid noiselessly to the ground.

  CHAPTER 12

  Monday, 18 February 1991

  James sat on the edge of the bed, his hands hanging limply over the ends of his knees. Nina sat watching him from the swivel chair at his desk. They were in his old bedroom and except for the recent addition of a new double bed, it was exactly as it had been when he lived at home. The bookshelves were filled with school textbooks. Trigonometry for Year 10. Web of Life. The Oxford Companion to Macbeth. Photos were pinned to the wall with Blu Tack. Groups of boys in rug
by uniform. In one posed photo Nina recognised James and a very young Felix with uncharacteristically long hair reaching almost to his shoulders.

  The old house sighed around them.

  It made Nina’s heart turn over to see James so beaten. She sat beside him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. His hands stayed limp on his legs, but he let his head fall on her shoulder. Then his body started to shake. He sobbed, without tears. Nina held him, stroking his back, gently scratching that spot beneath his shoulder blades that always seemed to be itchy.

  It would be dawn in an hour or so. An end to this awful night. The pitiful sight of Patty Wilde lying very still and pale on the floor was seared onto Nina’s brain. It made everything else seem trite. Conversation was clumsy. So they sat together in silence, their exhausted minds still trying to make sense of what had happened.

  Nina kept going over and over that moment when Patty had slid to the floor. In her life she had had little experience with illness or death and she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Frederick had cried out Patty’s name but she hadn’t moved. And then everyone else had. They had rushed to her. Frederick was bending over her, calling her name in a panicked voice. Mark was taking her wrist to feel a pulse. James was on the phone calling an ambulance. It was like a surge of energy with everyone suddenly moving at once. There was a sense of unreality about it all.

  The ambulance seemed to take forever to arrive. And when it did two young men came quickly into the room, moving everybody aside with their quiet authority. They took her pulse, lifted back her eyelids and asked a few questions of the family. As they started to roll Patty onto the stretcher, she began to come round, moaning and talking incoherently.

  One of the two ambulance drivers positioned his face in her line of vision and spoke slowly and loudly. ‘Can you tell us your name?’

  Patty’s eyes swivelled around in her head as she continued to make meaningless sounds. She didn’t seem able to hold her focus still or respond to what was going on around her.