A Woman of Courage (43 page)

‘Are you all right?'

‘I'm bruised and sore. But I'm all right, yes.'

‘Where are you?'

‘In a hotel in St Kilda.'

‘Does he know where you are?'

‘No.'

‘Good. Now tell me: why did he hit you?'

‘I was late getting home. He was supposed to be in Brisbane but the trip was cancelled and –'

Again Hilary cut her off. ‘How late?'

‘Very late.' It was hard to get the words out.

Silence for a moment. Then, voice decisive, Hilary said:

‘You are having an affair, aren't you? An affair with Martin Gulliver?'

Jennifer gulped, sweat on her face. She did not answer.

Now Hilary's voice was razor-sharp. ‘For God's sake, Jennifer! I'm on your side, OK? Were you with Martin or weren't you?'

A whisper: ‘Yes.'

‘Does Martin know what happened?'

‘No.'

‘Make sure you keep it that way. Now: stay put and don't worry. I'll handle it. I shall arrange for a doctor to give you a check-up.'

The thought of anyone seeing her like this threw Jennifer into a panic. ‘There's no need for that.'

‘There is every need. We need to make sure you're all right. And we may need a witness in case Davis disputes your version of what happened.' There was no arguing with Mother; there never was. ‘What else do you need?'

‘I've no clothes. Not even a toothbrush.'

‘Money?'

‘Not much. But I have my credit card.'

‘Then this is what we'll do…'

Jennifer listened. When her mother had finished she put down the phone, knowing that the weight had lifted from her shoulders. Thank God for Mother, she thought.

Ten minutes later she had a phone call from Brand's Melbourne office, someone called Irene.

‘Tell me what you need and your size. I'll bring out some clothes for you, toothpaste and brush. Anything else?'

2

In Sydney Hilary sat and thought, her face like stone. Finally she lifted the receiver. It was ten o'clock; if Davis wasn't in court he should be in his chambers by now. She did not need to check the number; with her phenomenal memory she forgot nothing. And, in this case, forgave nothing, either.

‘Hello?' His lawyer's voice: lofty, a little patronising. ‘Who is this?'

‘Hilary Brand.'

Silence. Only for a second but it registered.

‘And how can I help you?'

Loftier than ever now, giving nothing. We'll soon change that, she thought. ‘It is not a question of how you can help me but what you are going to do.'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘You beat up my daughter last night.'

‘I most certainly did not.'

Such indignation!

‘You beat up my daughter and I am warning you. You ever lay a finger on any member of my family again and I shall destroy you. You hear me?'

‘I assure you, Hilary –' Not quite so lofty now.

‘I haven't finished. You will grant my daughter an immediate divorce. You will pay her half a million dollars –'

‘Don't you dare threaten me –'

‘As they say, it is not a threat, Davis: it's a promise. Your assets must be worth well in excess of a million dollars. More than two, I would guess. I think half a million would be reasonable, in the circumstances.'

‘Now you listen here –'

A fly buzzing; she ignored it. ‘You will not see her or speak to her again, ever. You will clear out of the house long enough for her to retrieve whatever personal items she cares to keep, if there are any. You will make the settlement. You will not impede the divorce. If you do these things you will have no more trouble from me. If you do not, I
promise
you, Davis, you will have more trouble than you know how to handle.'

‘Planning to have me roughed up, are you?'

‘That is more your line than mine.' She paused for a moment to give her next words greater effect. ‘Does the name Juanita Santos mean anything to you?'

‘I don't believe it does.'

Defiant to the last: it was a quality she might have admired had she not detested him so much.

‘I find that surprising. I have in front of me a report from a private enquiry agent. With dates and photographs. Entering the St Vincent hotel in the city. Leaving it four hours later, again with Ms Santos. A room booked in your name. Many more instances of the same. Do I need to go on? Or remind you how your head of chambers might react to what I can assure you would be a huge scandal? What would Mr Hawthorn have to say about that?'

‘But that's blackmail.'

‘Terrible, isn't it? Terrible, I tell you.'

Over the years Hilary had learnt how to speak with maximum impact; now Davis's voice was of a man shaken to his boots.

‘What do you plan to do?'

‘Provided you behave, nothing. Neither Jennifer nor I will mention it to a soul. I've got a photographer with her at the moment. She's badly bruised so the pictures won't be pretty but we won't share them with the media unless you try and fight us. If you do, I will make it my personal business to destroy you.'

She phoned Jennifer ten minutes later. ‘It's all sorted. I trust you will be happy with the arrangement I've made.'

‘What arrangement?'

‘I am talking about an arrangement whereby you have swapped your husband for an immediate divorce and half a million in cash. But not a word to anyone, now or ever. That was my undertaking.'

‘Davis will never agree to that.'

‘He's done it. It's over, Jennifer.'

‘But how…?'

‘Never mind how. Just accept that it's done and be very, very thankful.'

‘I am. I can't tell you how much. Will I really get that much money?'

‘If Davis knows what's good for him.'

‘Martin will be over the moon,' Jennifer said. She was pretty high in the stratosphere herself.

‘I'm sure he will be. But I'd give it a week before you tell him.'

‘Why?'

‘It might not be a good idea for him to see how badly bruised you are.'

‘No,' Jennifer said. ‘I want him to know. To know now. Can you let me have some money?'

‘How much?'

Jennifer told her. ‘I need a car,' she said.

‘I shall expect you to repay me.'

‘Of course.'

The first thing Jennifer did was buy a brand-new two-door Honda sports car, pillar box red. It gave her an odd feeling to have money to spend and know that Davis was not waiting to damn her extravagance. She was free. It was like picking up a Get Out of Gaol card.

The second thing Jennifer did was drive up into the Dandenongs. Martin's place was on a ridge at the end of a steep track, a wooden house with a complication of rooms spread across a hilltop. It was completely isolated amid vast forest trees yet with views extending, it seemed, forever.

She knew she would have to be careful with Martin. He was big and strong. He was slow to anger but extremely protective of her and his anger, when roused, was like Vesuvius on a bad day. He was more than capable of taking Davis apart. That she must prevent yet he had to know what had happened.

‘Softly softly catchee monkey,' she said as she bumped up the rutted track.

His ute was there. She parked behind it and climbed the steps to the entrance. Her feet echoed on the boards as she crossed the deck and went into the house. All was still. His studio was out the back. She went through and there he was.

And there, after all the wasted years, was she.

She couldn't help it; when he tried to hug her she winced.

‘What is it?'

‘I'm a bit sore.'

‘Sore? Why?'

‘I want you to listen to me,' she said.

A pause. His jaw clenched, but he was careful to keep his hands soft on her shoulders. ‘What's he done to you?'

He wanted to see what damage had been done but she would not let him.

‘I said listen to me. I mean it. Listen!'

‘Tell me.' Nostrils flared; big hands clenched.

‘Davis never went to Brisbane after all. He was there when I got home. We had a terrible row.'

‘Did he hit you?'

‘Listen…'

‘
Did he hit you?
'

‘Yes.'

‘I'll fix the bastard.'

His rage was black and terrifying. At that moment she knew he would kill Davis Lander if he could get his hands on him. At all costs she had to stop him before he did anything stupid.

‘I said
listen.
' Careless of her own pain she was shaking him. Luckily she had worked out in advance what she had to say. ‘Don't you see? Davis has done us a huge favour.'

Martin was not listening. ‘Take off your shirt!'

‘No.'

‘Take it off! I want to see what he's done to you.'

‘I haven't finished talking! Now:
listen to me
!' Escaping from Davis had done more than release her physically; it seemed all her inhibitions had vanished too. ‘Davis has agreed to give me an immediate divorce and a cash settlement.'

‘I don't care about the cash.'

‘It will be nice to have. And I am free of him. Don't you see? Free of him!'

‘Why would he have agreed to that?'

‘I don't know. But Mother spoke to him –'

‘Your mother spoke to him? You told her before you told me?'

‘Because I was afraid you'd kill him and I didn't want to lose you before we had even got together.' There were tears now, a mixture of joy and pain unlike anything she had experienced before. ‘By hitting me he gave me the courage to do what I should have done long ago.' Now was the moment. Careless of the pain she held him close, tearful face upturned. ‘Please forgive me for keeping you waiting so long.'

A huge sigh from the heart. Now Martin too was close to tears. ‘Forgive you? Good God, there is nothing to forgive. I love you, Jennifer.'

‘And I love you.'

And that, now they had finally come to it, was everything.

Later:

‘I don't care if it hurts. I want you. Want you now.'

And presently, diffident yet determined:

‘Perhaps, if we do it this way…'

It was amazing what you could do when you set your mind to it.

IN LIMBO

It was a strange time. Hilary couldn't settle. She could neither walk, sleep nor think. All the processes of mind and body seemed frozen in the limbo between her past and future lives.

To be there and not there, to sit in her chair behind her desk in her office and to know that power was slipping away… The knowledge that this was the course she had chosen and that she was right to have done so should have made the process easier but did not. There were days when the notion made her sick with apprehension.

She had not phoned Craig. Every day she told herself she must but every day she found excuses not to do so. This agreement must be finalised, that problem resolved. The truth was the prospect of phoning him terrified her. For so many years they had talked of the future, their future when they would be together at last. What if in that time the dream had become the reality? What if when he was faced with her imminent arrival he changed his mind and did not want to go ahead?
She must phone him.
She did not.

She knew she had to do it. No one was pushing her but everyone was waiting. It was bad for the senior staff who did not know where they were. Worse, it was bad for the company. Also she had told Mr Li in Beijing. It would never do to say one thing and do something else. She had to do it.

She sat up all night on the terrace of Cadogan Lodge. She stared at the light-dimpled waters of Sydney Harbour, the movement of marine traffic to and fro, while for the hundredth time her mind roamed over her past adventures: the battles she had fought and won, her many triumphs and occasional disasters. Morning came with a scud of rain. Mrs Walsh brought her a cup of coffee, asked about breakfast. The thought of food nauseated her. No, she said, she would have nothing. And still she sat.

At eight o'clock she phoned the office, said she would be in later. She had no appointments but not to go would create a vacuum. She did not think she could handle a vacuum. Not today.

If not today, then when?

At ten o'clock she took a deep breath, blinked her gritty eyes and walked into the house. She sat at her study desk and picked up the phone. She waited a few seconds, listening to the pounding of her heart. She dialled.

Swimming beneath the waterfall. Her first sight of Rumah Kelapa. The sickle curve of the sandy beach. Home?

Seven thousand kilometres away the phone lifted.

‘Hullo?'

Craig's voice.

‘It's me. I was wondering…' She swallowed and went on. ‘Would it be all right with you if I came home?'

Silence. She had said it and could do no more. She could not even breathe.

‘Come home as in visiting?' Craig said. ‘Or to stay?'

She barely had the courage to say the words. ‘To stay.'

She heard a gust of air into the phone as he breathed out. ‘Thank God.'

There were tears then and sobs and an unwinding of all the tensions of recent days. None of it mattered, neither fears nor doubts nor delays. Now there was only joy and the certainty that the right decision had been made and that the future was bright.

‘When?'

‘Give me a week,' she said.

‘Don't you dare change your mind.'

‘I won't. I definitely won't.'

She hung up and went through to the kitchen.

‘I am going for a swim, Mrs Walsh. When I get back I shall have a shower and then if you can arrange it I would like one of your big breakfasts with sausages and bacon and tomatoes and sauté potatoes and three eggs.'

‘And toast?'

‘Of course. And butter and marmalade. And a pot of your best coffee.'