Wet Encounters

INTRODUCTION TO READERS

WET ENCOUNTERS

is a novel-length story of love, lust and betrayal that takes place on a tropical Pacific island during the second half of the twentieth century.

It's seventeen chapters pivot around a single event that takes place when two people are forced to take refuge in an abandoned cabin when they are cut off by rising floodwaters.

During the three nights they spend together, they discover things about themselves and the regular occupants of the cottage that will destroy their previously stable lives.

The big question is, can anything be saved from the wreckage that remains after the floodwaters recede?

________________________

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The girl's nanny had arrived while we had been eating and had taken them under her wing while Juanita and I finished our breakfast. She kept them amused with colouring books and games in the lounge room while we waited on James and Liz. We were on our second cup of coffee when they finally joined us.

I asked Rebecca to take the girls along to their room, explaining that we had a few private things to discuss that the children didn't need to hear. I had no doubt that she knew exactly what I meant. I also called for William to serve up Missus Liz' and Mister James' coffee and breakfast.

With their meal served, I suggested that it might be a good idea for him to pump the water up to the header tank and make sure that we had plenty of firewood split. Once again, I had no doubt that he knew there was plenty of water in the tank and that there was an abundance of firewood. He was a smart lad, though, and knew that those two jobs would generally take him an hour to perform. An hour of privacy should give us time to at least start to address the issues before us. Of course, there would have been no point in asking him why, if he knew what was going on, he hadn't told me about it? His answer would have been that it was none of his business. I would have received the same response from Rebecca.

"When did this start?" I demanded as soon as I heard the kitchen door close behind William. My question was aimed at Liz.

"What do you mean, 'When did this start'?" she blustered. "It just happened. Jim called in after he had driven his tractor down to the creek to rescue Juanita. He said there was no sign of the truck and had assumed that, when the water had risen to a dangerous level, you had managed to take her to somewhere safe.

"I was worried sick and he comforted me. One thing led to another and we ended up making love. The longer you were both gone, the closer we became. What you saw this morning would have been the final episode in an accidental but very short affair.

"Each of us loves each of you and we knew it wouldn't be fair on either of you for us to continue such a relationship. We had slept in separate rooms last night, knowing you would both be coming home today. Jim kindly made me a cup of coffee this morning and kissed me to wake me. It got out of control."

I glanced over at Juanita and saw her about to say something. She was reaching her boiling point. I gave a slight shake of my head. I needed her to bite her tongue and remain calm if we were going to maintain the high ground. We had discussed our tactics earlier. This was only going to work if we were able to excise the core from this boil. Before we announced our own relationship, I wanted them to be so filled with guilt that they would accept our ultimatum without question. This was only the first of many salvoes.

It was interesting, though, that Liz referred to James as 'Jim', a name I knew he usually hated.

"Is what Liz is saying true, Jim?" I asked him, intentionally using his love name.

"Essentially, yes," he agreed.

"So, this is the first time you've been unfaithful to your wife? The first time you've fucked

my

wife?"

"Yes," he said, looking over at Juanita with what he hoped was an honest and sincere look on his face.

"And this is the first time that you've been unfaithful to me?" I asked Liz.

"Y... yes," she answered, with a slight hesitation; although that could be attributed to the tears that had started rolling down her cheeks.

I looked over at Juanita and saw that she, too, had tears streaming down her face. Part of that would have been as a result of the admissions that both James and Liz had made.

I felt my own eyes start to water. But my tears weren't linked to the admissions. I had already accepted that my wife had betrayed me. The fact that it happened with a man I had considered to be a friend certainly made it worse but I already knew all that. No, what had caused my eyes to tear-up was the lying. I suspected that Juanita's were the same. It hurt us both to find out that our partners actually thought that we were stupid enough to believe the bullshit they were spewing.

"Okay, good," I said as cheerfully as I could.

"Who's for another cup of coffee?" I asked, clapping my hands as if I had accepted their explanations and their little misstep was forgivable and we could put it all behind us. That we could move on with our lives as if it had never happened.

As I walked to the kitchen to retrieve the coffee pot, I thought of the little clause I had read in one of my crime novels. It eluded to a criminal who has been charged with a specific crime but who, when the time comes to plead, asks that other crimes he has committed be taken into account. Certainly, admitting to those crimes might result in a stiffer sentence but, once they have been taken into consideration, the double-jeopardy rule applies to them. The criminal can never be charged with them again.

The two criminals before me in the dock of my kangaroo court had just waived their right to a compassionate hearing.

With our cups refilled, it was time to focus the spotlight on their little charade.

"So, my darling Elizabeth," I said, "if you weren't fucking old Jimbo, here, when you disappeared for days on end when I was away, who were you fucking?

"Perhaps that's a question Jim would like to have answered, too; assuming, of course, it wasn't him."

"I wasn't fucking - as you so crudely put it - anyone," she said, once putting on a display of indignation to hide her embarrassment at being caught out. "I just needed a bit of time to myself."

The lie was proven by her red face. She wasn't an accomplished liar and blushing was her 'tell'.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "But after this morning, you can understand why I might jump to that conclusion. I just can't understand why you would wait until I was away. I'd have been happy to watch over the girls so you could have some alone time. You'd have only had to ask."

Changing the subject, I suggested that our discussions might need something a little stronger than coffee. I asked my guests if they'd like a glass of something.

"Sherry, perhaps?" I asked. "I recall that old Bert, who was the last mill manager, used to keep his sherry in the refrigerator. He'd invite you in for a drink if you were passing by at morning tea time. He might have been an alcoholic but he had class. He'd pull the flagon from the fridge then serve it up to you in a proper crystal sherry glass.

"How about

you

grab the crystal glasses," I said to Liz, "and

I'll

get the sherry. It won't be chilled but we can use it to toast Bert. He's probably seen the bottom of his last flagon by now."

"I don't think that is a good idea, Matt," Liz said. After all, James and Juanita might not want to drink sherry at this time of the morning."

"I would love a glass of sherry," Juanita said. "I think it's a wonderful idea. What about you,

Jim

? Don't you think it's a great idea?" I noted that she'd used and emphasised Liz' abbreviation of his preferred name.

"I suppose," he said.

"Excellent," I said, clapping my hands once again, letting them think that I might simply be celebrating the resolution of what was a brief marital hiccup. I stood to retrieve the bottle of sherry from behind the bar.

"Chop-chop," I said to Liz, pulling her chair out so she could stand. "They're on the tray in the glass cabinet. Bring the whole tray. That way, I can pick the right glasses. You know how you always confuse them."

She walked towards the cabinet as if she was wearing lead shoes. She knew something was happening but wasn't sure what it was. She returned to the table with four glasses; two sherry and two port.

I picked up the two port glasses, taking them back to the cabinet to replace them with sherry glasses. Personally, I didn't give a damn which glasses we used but I needed to confirm that the tray wasn't where it should be.

"Where's the tray, Liz?" I asked as I returned to the table with the correct glasses. After filling all four of them and handing them around, I lifted mine.

"Here's to Bert. May he rest in peace and his body be so pickled that it will never rot, wherever he ended up."

"Bert," James and Juanita said in unison, as is the custom on such occasions. Liz didn't bother. I think she had begun to get an inkling of what was about to happen.

"So," I said, "back to my question. Where's the tray, Liz?"

"I threw it out," she said, an element of defiance in her voice. "I hated it, so I threw it out."

"I didn't realise that you hated my mother so much that you would throw away something she gave us as part of her wedding present. You know that she gave us that and a set of crystal glasses - these sherry glasses, in fact - planning on adding another set on each of our anniversaries; something she did up until last year. Of course, she didn't give us a set this year because she died.

"I find that so disrespectful. Not just to my mother but also to me. It surprises me that you haven't thrown out the glasses as well. It's no wonder that you've never bothered to learn which glass goes with which wine. Or which glass goes with port or sherry. But now, I understand."

"I think Juanita and I might go for a walk while you two sort out your mother-in-law issues," James said, starting to rise from his chair, once again. Juanita wasn't moving. She knew what was coming and was looking forward to it.

"Sit!" I commanded him.

"Don't speak to me like that, Matt," he said indignantly. "I'm not a dog and I don't see that this is any of our business."

"You made it your business the first time you fucked my wife," I retorted, still not giving away the fact that Juanita and I both knew how long their affair had been going on. "Now, sit down or I'll fucking-well knock you down!

He sat.

"Anyway," I said, "it really has nothing to do with my mother. It does, however, have everything to do with Liz' lack of respect for me.

"When did you throw it away?" I asked, turning back to look at my wife.

"I got rid of it when you went down to Australia for her funeral," she answered. "I didn't hate her. But I did hate that even when she was dead, you were at her beck and call. Your brother and sister were down there. Why couldn't they have handled everything? Why was it that you had to go down there and leave us up here on our own? If it hadn't been for our neighbours, I would have gone crazy."

"Ordinarily, I'd be ashamed of myself for leaving you alone on an isolated plantation for anything more than a few days. But in this instance, I'm not. Mainly because I'd made sure that you and the girls were well protected for the whole time I was away. In addition to having asked James and Juanita and Harry Nettles - Joan was down in Australia at the same time I was there - to keep an eye on you, I had people watching over you day and night.

"Of course, they couldn't watch over you on those occasions when you weren't here; that one night you were away during the first week and those two nights during the following week. You were obviously so scared about being raped and pillaged that you felt you had to leave the girls in the care of their nanny while you went off to find yourself. The watchers didn't follow you only because I had instructed them to focus on the house.

"Oddly, the same thing happened each time I had to go away to sort out problems on other company-owned properties. You felt you had to abandon our children so you could have time to yourself. A night here. A couple of night there. Three nights and four days on one occasion.

"You'll understand, then, if I don't quite believe that your fling with good old Jimmy, here, is your first foray into adultery since we've been here on Arovo. I knew about the infidelities before we were married - once before we became engaged, another after - but I thought you had grown out of the need for a fuck on the side. Apparently, I was mistaken.

"But listen to me rambling on. I'm hogging the conversation. I've not let anyone else get a word in edgeways."

"Do you have dates for the times you were away?" Juanita asked.

"I have rough dates in my head," I answered her. "But I can go through my records if it's important. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no real reason," she said. "I was just wondering how you would be able to tie everything together if it became necessary. You know, if you decided to sue for divorce and you wanted to claim custody of the children, based on parental neglect.

"I know that I'd have that information in my files to call on if James ever decided to leave our John with his nanny while he went off for a couple of days for an illicit affair. Not that he would do that, of course. I'm sure that this brief liaison with Liz was something that has come about as a result of an unusual set of circumstances.

"But I can see how it might sometimes be necessary to leave one's child behind while one is heading off to rescue his wife. Who would have known that he would be away from home for three nights while he consoled himself by fucking his friend's wife's brains out?

"Anyway, if the shoe were on the other foot, I know I'd be able to clearly identify the times that James was away at Planters Association and Cocoa Growers and Copra Growers meetings. I would also know when he flew over to Rabaul for meetings with officers from the Department of Agriculture. I would only have to check my diaries."

"I see your point," I said. "I'll have to have a hunt about to see if I can find the records of my trips away. If I can't find them here, they'll have them over at the main station."

I was watching the silent interaction between Liz and James as Juanita and I held a conversation which, with every word, tightened the thumbscrews. They were shitting themselves. They weren't sure what, if anything, we knew but they knew that, should we decide to put our heads together, we could bring them undone; something that could prove a lot more costly to James than it would to Liz.

And yet, they still refused to come clean. Instead, they continued to hope that all we had was suspicion; with nothing of substance to back it up.

It was time to lower the boom.

"Oh, just to change the subject a bit," I said. "Or more correctly, to bring it back on track. I wouldn't be too concerned about throwing out that Raleigh Ware tray, Liz. I came across its twin down at the mill manager's house. Bert must have found it - I was happy for them to think I was confused about the timing of Bert's departure and Liz' throwing it away - I'll bring it back with me when I go down to tidy the place up.

"I must say that the cabin was in amazingly good condition for a building that's been empty for so long. The mill owner must have arranged for someone to keep it clean and tidy. He's probably hoping to get someone to come over and get it back up and running again soon. Would you believe that even the beds were made up? It was like walking into a holiday apartment.

"I tried to convince Juanita that the single bed would be ideal for someone of her relatively short build but she wasn't having a bar of it. She insisted that, being the wealthy plantation owner's wife, she should have the double bed. She explained that, as the lowly plantation manager, I would feel more comfortable in the hammock-like single bed.

"I must admit that, while she is usually a good judge of what others might like, she was wrong on that one. It was the most uncomfortable bed I've ever lain in. I would have preferred to sleep in any other bed than that. But there were only the two and the other one was already spoken for. Still, needs must..."

I left that door wide open but neither James nor Liz chose to enter; although they did give each other a strange look.

"The pantry was well stocked and even the rice and flour were reasonably fresh. We survived on soup and damper and a few of the luxuries that Juanita had picked up in town on her way home from tennis.

"By the way, Jim, I hope you don't mind but I got stuck into your scotch. Oh, and your tobacco. Still, I'm sure Liz would have reciprocated. She wouldn't have let you go without. Very hospitable is my Liz.

"

Would you like a glass of Matt's scotch? I'm sure he'd be the first to offer. You didn't bring your tobacco with you? Help yourself to Matt's. He won't mind. Oh. Your wife is stuck on the other side of the creek with my husband? Don't worry, fuck me instead. I'm sure Matt won't mind

."

"Yes, Liz is very hospitable."

They were starting to fidget. I got the impression that they were beginning to realise they were standing in the middle of a highway with a very large truck bearing down on them.

"I'll tell you what else we found," I said, maintaining my conversational tone. "While searching the pantry to see what we had in case our stay ended up being longer than we had anticipated, we came across a box of games. You know, chess, draughts, chequers, cards; that sort of thing.

"I made the mistake of playing gin rummy with Juanita. That didn't end well. I'll be paying off my debt to her for the rest of my life. But you'd know all about that if you've ever played cards with her, Jim. I'd certainly want to be heavily layered if she ever challenged me to a game of strip poker. But that's a story for another time."

Once again, the look passed between them. I didn't know whether they were starting to put two and two together or they had actually played strip poker while overnighting at the cabin.

"Do you remember, Liz, when we were down in Australia on leave last year, we saw a game like Monopoly but with an Australian slant to it? It was called Squatter. Do you remember?"

Liz shook her head negatively.

"Yes," I said. "It was only new on the market. We almost bought it but decided that the girls were probably still a bit too young for it. I wish we had bought it now. It'd be just the thing for four adults. We could've had Jim and Juanita over for a game night. You could have fucked Jim while Juanita and I played Squatter."

"That's enough!" James shouted as he stood and tried to intimidate me with his extra height. "I will not have you speak to Liz in such a derogatory tone. You will treat her with the respect that is due to the mother of your children."

"Sit down, Jimmy, or I'll wrap your righteous indignation around your throat and strangle you with it. You climb up there onto your high horse accusing me of not showing respect to my slut of a wife when all the while you disrespect your own wife. You're an adulterous fucking hypocrite!

"When Liz is your wife, you can demand that everyone treats her with whatever respect you believe she might be due. Until that day, you'll sit there and take your medicine like a good boy."

He sat. As he sat, however, he glanced sheepishly over at Juanita who looked stonily back at him. He then looked over at Liz, who gave him a fragile smile. I was sure that she was more aware of what was happening than he was. I believed that, like an ant walking on the edge of an antlion's trap, she could feel the sand beginning to slip beneath her feet.