The Lost Swimmer (9 page)

My reservations about the adventure evaporated as I saw her childlike wonder. She rubbed her forearms, shivering. ‘Goosebumps.'

‘Go for a walk. Take them in.' Sally didn't need encouragement. She floated in a mirage as she inspected the cliffs, looking up at their astonishing height, the weight of time enveloping her.

I wanted desperately to grow close, to feel the excitement of a new acquaintance, the seduction of conversations beyond the banal. But could I trust her? This woman I knew nothing about.

Sally waved and I lifted my hand into the fresh breeze, waving back.

•  •  •

Returning was easier. The sea had stilled, sleeping in a silvered calm. As we walked towards the silhouettes of Stephen and Big Boy absorbed in a ritual of stick throwing, three tiny birds, grey with black hoods, stick pink legs so fragile it was a miracle they held up, fed timidly at the shoreline. I gestured to Sally to move away up the beach and she followed, mesmerised by the birds.

‘Our hoodies,' I whispered. ‘Hooded plovers. They're terribly shy and nest right on the beach.' I indicated further ahead a small area that had been fenced off. To our left the hoodies took off momentarily, only a few inches from the ground, then settled back in the glistening sand by the water and continued feeding. ‘Two parents and one baby.' Sally stared at the young bird that was so delicate he looked like he might break. ‘The hoodies have no concept of self-protection,' I continued as they fluttered along, stopping again to snap insects in the heat. ‘They're endangered. Only a handful of them left along these shores. We all try to watch out for them.' I pointed to the fence. ‘It doesn't do much but it's something. All it takes is one dog or fox and the entire brood is lost.'

Sally turned to me with an expression so intense her hazel eyes seemed ablaze. ‘That one's hurt.' The largest bird was doing an exaggerated limp away from its family.

‘To take attention from her baby. She figures a predator will attack her rather than the young one if it thinks she's wounded. That limp's for us. Quickly.' I led on to allow the birds their world again.

‘You seem to understand them,' said Sally and I had the eerie feeling that she meant this with more depth than was necessary. Whether or not Sally felt it, I did have an instinct for self-preservation. In that moment I decided not to ask her for help, at least not until I knew her better.

•  •  •

That night Stephen and I abandoned our Sunday ritual of television crime drama and went straight to bed.

‘You may as well skip the silent treatment, it's driving me crazy.' Stephen shut his book. ‘You're acting like I sacked them.'

‘You betrayed all of us who've been fighting – but particularly them.'

‘There are economic realities and you know it.'

‘What made you change your mind?'

Stephen frowned. I waited but he didn't reply.

‘Great. You can't even say!'

‘It's hard to pinpoint exactly. I wanted to discuss it with you but it all happened so quickly.'

‘Why?'

Again Stephen was silent, unusually so. ‘I was preoccupied,' he said slowly. ‘I'd let a few things slip.'

‘Like what?'

‘The departmental budget had a few errors, which were spotted higher up.'

‘That's not like you.'

‘Let's just say I lost bargaining power.'

I seized the moment. ‘I've noticed you've been a bit absent here lately too.' I waited for what seemed like hours but Stephen didn't look at me. ‘What's going on?' My question hurled through the air like a grenade about to explode. Part of me wanted to take it back.

‘Nothing,' Stephen answered calmly. ‘We're just so chronically overworked. A situation that's going to get worse once the others leave.'

He looked across so openly I could see his black irises full and rich in his deep brown eyes. Relief surged through me. He smiled. ‘It's okay, my love. I haven't suddenly changed into a monster. It really hurt me convincing them to go. I looked at every alternative, and each was more awful than the one before. Anything else would have been much worse, and would have affected a lot more people. In the end I inflicted pain where it would be most efficient.'

How like Stephen. Here was the person I knew after all.

‘If it makes it any better they chose to go. The packages are quite lucrative.' He fixed me with a stern look. ‘In the end we have to take responsibility, Bec. And if we can't, they'll find someone else to do our job – and probably should.'

‘My God, you sound like Priscilla!' The thread of conciliation was torn apart. ‘That's just bullshit!'

‘No it's not! Where are the funds meant to come from?'

‘From growth not cuts. What about all the plans for new income sources that we've spent hours talking about?'

‘In this environment that's impossible,' he replied. ‘If I didn't take action the situation would have been dire. You need to think about that in your department too. We can sit down together if you like?'

‘No need. I can just sack everyone Priscilla wants me to and we'll all be happy. Until we try to run subjects and there's no one left to teach them.' I was up and on my feet, had already reached the door. ‘And I'm sure Pam and Josie will be thrilled, just like winning the lottery – except once they've spent their packages they'll have no careers and few options other than part-time mums snatching piecemeal work. Great deal, Priscilla. Oh sorry – I mean
Stephen
,' I finished sarcastically.

I turned and walked slowly back to him, aware my expression had become that of a madwoman. ‘And by the way, are you having an affair with Priscilla?'

Stephen's gaze was so full of disbelief and contempt I had to look away.

‘I can't talk to you when you're like this,' he said. ‘You're insane.' He flicked off the light.

I stood for what seemed like an eternity, my senses humming so loudly I felt like a vibrating disc, tethered but desperately needing to be airbound, to float back to when my husband was the dependable, stalwart, amiable companion I had shared my life with for twenty-five years.

Eventually Stephen started snoring and I moved down to the family room, where I lay on the sofa, Big Boy sprawled heavily across my feet. The image of Stephen leaning towards Priscilla at the birthday party spun into my brain. Was I inventing the whole thing?

By the time I woke the next morning, Stephen had gone, as quietly as the summer zephyr that brushed the leaves outside with an invisible hand.

‘F
or what it's worth, I'm as shocked as you, Bec.' My good friend Rachel's eyes brimmed with sympathy. I had emailed her asking urgently to meet, and she'd raced over after giving a Jewish Studies lecture. ‘It doesn't seem like Stephen to force voluntary redundancies,' she continued. ‘Not at all. But in this climate it's hardly a surprise.'

‘I can't stop thinking it's because he's having an affair. Maybe the woman's influencing him? Everywhere I look I wonder if it's her.' I indicated a pretty young academic in a tight slip of a dress, ‘Or her, or her.' I pointed to two women nearer my age who were lean and bright-eyed with intelligence, hunched forward gossiping over lunch. ‘Or a student, for that matter. What an awful cliché that would be if he ran off with one of his PhDs.'

‘If Stephen's seeing someone he's managing to keep it very secret – which I would have thought is a complete impossibility in this place,' said Rachel.

But deep down I was beginning to think that Stephen was far better at keeping secrets than I could ever have imagined.

‘I asked him point blank last night if it was Priscilla.'

‘Rebecca!'

‘Well, it's possible.'

‘That's truly ridiculous.'

‘Years ago, when we were friends with Priscilla, Stephen always found her good fun.'

‘Yes, but she's not anymore. Hasn't been for a long time.'

‘She wears clothes well, still has a figure. If you ignore the poison flowing through her veins.'

‘Which Stephen wouldn't.' Rachel paused. ‘No, try as I might, I can't conjure them together.'

I felt a deep sense of relief but kept going. ‘Then maybe whoever he's seeing is off campus.'

Rachel gave a look of disbelief. ‘Unthinkable.'

I snorted. ‘I guess. Neither of us has a life outside work. Pathetic. Except . . .'

Rachel leaned forward with anticipation.

‘I'm also worried he's been investing in the stock market.'

She sat back. ‘He is an economist.'

‘But we'd agreed that he wouldn't. Just after we were married he lost his shirt in some bad trades. It's the reason I've always insisted on keeping a separate account as well as the joint one. I think when pressed, there's an element of the gambler in Stephen.'

‘And there's also a rock who you've been devoted to for many, many years. It's natural to feel paranoid when we're under so much pressure. You're just tired.' Rachel waved her hand like she was fanning everything away.

‘You're always right,' I said gratefully.

‘If only that were true.' She laughed so loudly the gossipers at the next table turned and smiled. Then Rachel grew solemn. ‘You know, in this instance, I think I
am
right,' she proclaimed and stood. ‘Classes to run, minds to corrupt. Call me any time.' She kissed me warmly and bustled off, waving hello to people at most of the tables.

It was unfortunate I didn't have anything pressing for the next hour. It was still lunchtime and I couldn't stop myself from wandering across to Stephen's building. The glass edifice of Economics glowed steel blue in the early afternoon. I slipped inside and climbed the sleek timber stairs to the second floor and walked down the long corridor to Stephen's corner office. He wasn't there. I fished around the papers that were scattered on top of his desk. Nothing of interest. I tapped the bar of his keyboard and his computer sprang to life. Checking that no one was coming, I quickly scrolled through his emails. Nothing obvious there either. If Stephen was having an affair he was covering his tracks well. Would I find answers on his mobile phone? But how would I check it? He always had it on him. I walked briskly back to my office, trying not to allow focus to become obsession.

•  •  •

‘Thanks for coming over,' I said to the dapper man sitting opposite me.

‘That's okay. I know how sensitive this is.' Peter Carlisle, the union lawyer, was sweating lightly in the heat and looked decidedly uncomfortable.

‘Oh God, you don't think I'm guilty?'

This raised more sweat and a deep blush in his usually kempt appearance.

‘Peter, I'm not. Nor is anyone in my department. I don't know why the Athens 2 account was created but it's obviously just another mix-up.'

‘Because I'm representing you they've let me see a few of the discrepancies,' Peter said, passing across a printout. ‘Bec, there's quite a bit of money missing.'

I was looking at a monthly statement for an Athens 3 account that had started with three hundred thousand dollars and was now reduced to fifty dollars.

‘What's this account?'

‘It was set up by you.' Peter passed across a form with my signature.

‘That's impossible.'

‘Isn't that your signature?'

I scrutinised it. ‘It can't be mine, even though it looks like it.'

‘You don't remember setting up the account? Your signature's been tested forensically by two handwriting experts at the university. Both say the signature authorising all the Athens accounts – 1, 2 and 3 – is yours.'

I sat back, my head whirling, trying to piece things together. ‘I don't understand.'

‘It's better to come clean,' he said gently in his deep, musical voice. ‘There's also a lot of money in your own miscellaneous account – your X account.'

‘Well, that's from my consultations outside Coastal – museums and universities.'

‘They must pay well.' He passed across a sheet that displayed my X account as having over five hundred thousand dollars in it.

‘This just isn't right! There's obviously been a clerical error.' I scanned the entries. ‘There must be an explanation.'

Peter passed me more papers. He leaned across and scribbled with a red pen, tracking some of the withdrawals from the Athens 3 account straight into my X account – a total of two hundred thousand dollars, in parcels just under ten thousand dollars each, had been deposited.

I blanched, my mouth going dry. ‘I would never do that.' I looked up. ‘And do you think I would have been that obvious if I was going to embezzle?'

‘The Athens 2 and 3 accounts were well hidden. And no one would normally question your X account. Scientists and medicos can easily have that much.' He paused and looked down at his feet. ‘I can help, Bec, but I can't do it without you.'

‘Can I please take a copy of these?'

Peter handed me a manila folder that he'd already filled with the heinous evidence. He stood. ‘Go through them. Take your time. But the clock's ticking.'

My legs were so wobbly I couldn't rise. I wished Melinda were here. She could probably work the whole thing out in ten minutes, expose it as some massive administrative ‘cock up', as she'd say.

I focused on the signatures. They all looked identical to mine. I authorised dozens of forms every day and wouldn't necessarily remember the minutiae of them all, by any lengths, but I would remember the general overview. I knew I'd signed off on Athens 1, but I'd never approved any Athens 2 or 3 accounts. Nor would I transfer vast sums into my own university account. My heart thumped out of my chest as I realised that whoever was behind this had gone to a lot of trouble to point the finger at me.