The Lost Swimmer (8 page)

‘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.

S
he was a vision in white from top to toe as she shimmered 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.'

Sally squealed as she stubbed her toe. ‘I'm okay – lead on,' she said.

The swell was strong, the surf tugged, slapping slimy tendrils of kelp against our legs as we picked our way carefully over submerged boulders. ‘Are you all right? It's not far.'

‘Is the tide coming in or out?' Sally sounded fearful.

‘Out. It'll be shallower coming back.' I turned and she smiled tentatively. ‘Give me your hand.' She clutched so tightly I wondered whether I should be bringing her here.

The waves were rougher as we rounded an ochre outcrop and the hidden beach came into view.

‘You don't swim but you'll brave this?' shouted Sally.

‘Never said I was rational.' I gripped her hand and led on. ‘Almost there.'

Just near the shore I stepped into a deep hollow and stumbled. Briny water gushed into my mouth as I floundered, trying to regain my step. Sally reached under my arms and lifted me up in one smooth movement. Trying to control a surge of nausea, coughing and spluttering, I staggered out onto the beach.

‘Sit down.' Sally ushered me to dry sand, studying my sudden panic. I breathed deeply and forced myself to smile serenely. ‘I'm fine.'

Sally nodded, concerned, then glanced around at the towering cliffs shimmering red, pink, orange in the dusk. ‘Wow.' They hummed in the silence, a stillness here that was primeval. ‘It's like we just stepped back a thousand years.'