The Affair (7 page)

Then it was time to go. She and James were flying to Australia the next day from Vancouver. She wondered if his parents would be as accepting as hers had been at the news of their sudden marriage. She was so very proud and grateful to her mother for trying valiantly to appear happy for her daughter, even though it meant losing her to a foreign country at the other end of the earth. Dorothea Lambert was used to loss and hardship and she was a stoic woman. She hugged her daughter to her, tears in her eyes and a loving smile lighting up her weatherbeaten face.

Nina remembered it all. The intensity, the mad impetuousness. She stared out the window. She wasn’t seeing the harbour with the Saturday
morning boats leaving for the races. She was seeing a fit and wiry, neat grey-haired woman with big soft eyes and a heavily lined face, standing by the gate waving her goodbye. And she was remembering that mad, passionate ardent lover. Where had he gone?

Felix was already in his office when James arrived just before ten.

‘You look how I feel,’ said Felix.

James tried to smile. It didn’t work. He sat down heavily in the chair opposite Felix. James was still numb. The sharp shock of last night’s revelations had passed, leaving a creeping acceptance. It was like a wave of dread had encompassed his whole being, swallowing him up so that he felt he was looking at the world from the end of a long tunnel.

‘How did this happen?’ he asked.

Felix sighed. What could he say? It shouldn’t have happened. It was never supposed to happen. He was having trouble coming to terms with it himself. Lloyd’s of London, the world insurance giant that insured everything from ships to rock
stars’ lips, was facing a staggering five billion dollar debt.

The name Lloyd’s was synonymous with prestige and privilege. Those lucky enough to be invited to become an investor and join the exclusive club-like organisation had the potential to make handsome profits. It was like a 300-year-old gentlemen’s money-making club.

Felix, who came from a long line of sheep farmers and was welcome in most of the elite clubs of Sydney, Melbourne, Perth and London, had been invited eight years ago to become an investor in Lloyd’s, known in such hallowed circles as a ‘Lloyd’s name’. He had, in turn, brought in a few of his special wealthier clients and, four years ago, his best mate James.

Felix believed he had been doing James and the other clients a favour. Not only did they gain access to one of the most prestigious old-money organisations in the world, he was guaranteeing them some easy money with no risk. After all, it was Lloyd’s. And for the first two years, as they each received healthy cheques, it had seemed a wise decision. Indeed it had felt like money for nothing.

But now the ground had suddenly been wrenched from under Felix. Lloyd’s, the financial icon, was facing a disaster of biblical proportions, and it was up to the ‘names’ to bail them out. Felix, knowledgeable and canny as he was about money, with years of experience of the unpredictability of world markets, was battling his own sense of shock and outrage. Instead of sending
each of the Australian ‘names’ their regular hefty cheques, Lloyd’s had sent out letters demanding money. And lots of it.

He stared across his desk at his friend. James looked crumpled and tired. He was hoping Felix would make sense of it for him. There was no anger in his eyes, no blame or bitterness. He looked – Felix struggled to identify his expression – panic-struck? No, it was an emotion stronger than that. Felix realised with a start that his friend looked frightened. A tic had appeared below his left eye. Felix had seen that before. It only happened when James was under extreme stress.

Felix ran his fingers through his hair, and, feeling the sharp ends of his buzz cut, remembered he had had it all cut off. To give his hands something to do he shuffled the papers on his desk. He felt his own throat tighten. What had he done? Felix coughed, trying to relax his throat muscles. He wanted to erase the panic from his friend’s face but he wasn’t sure he could.

‘No-one could have predicted this. Over the past few years the world has been hit by a string of extraordinary natural disasters the like of which we have never seen before.’

James looked at him uncomprehendingly. Felix continued.

‘The Piper Alpha oil rig explosion in 1988, the Exxon Valdez oil spill in July 1989. There were massive European windstorms that caused millions of dollars of damage in 1987. Crop failures in Florida. Hurricane Hugo. More catastrophes have
occurred in recent years than have ever been recorded.’

‘You sound like a news bulletin,’ said James, his voice sharp. He was floundering. He was in over his head and he knew it. ‘What’s Hurricane Hugo?’

Felix looked at the papers in his hand. ‘A storm that hit South Carolina in 1989, causing billions of dollars of damage.’

James looked incredulous. ‘You have got to be joking. A storm? I have to pay for a storm in America?’

Felix read from his papers. ‘It was a category 5 storm, category 4 when it hit America.’

James shook his head. Felix continued.

‘It killed 82 people. The eye of the storm was 30 miles wide. They found dead deer over twenty feet high in trees.’

‘They’re pretty tall deer.’

Felix smiled thinly at James’s humour.

‘The deer were normal size,’ said Felix patiently. His tone made it clear this was not the time for any of his friend’s jokes. ‘They were found twenty feet up the trees.’

‘Sorry, bad joke.’ James sighed. ‘Okay, okay. A very bad storm. And I feel sorry for the deer. But I don’t get what that has to do with me.’

Felix took a deep breath and tried to focus his mind. He needed to simplify this. James obviously had little idea how Lloyd’s worked. Felix wondered how much had sunk in that evening in 1987 when he had taken James to the cocktail party for prospective names. Possibly not much.
He remembered his friend’s awe at the luxurious surroundings and the well-known people in the room. But Felix didn’t remember him asking too many questions. Felix felt guilty. He was the finance expert. He should have made sure James understood exactly what he was getting into.

‘Lloyd’s insure against the likelihood of something happening. They figure out the risk and calculate a premium accordingly. The odds against half of the state of South Carolina being blown away would have been horrendous. Just as the likelihood of the Exxon Valdez tanker running aground on a reef and spilling nearly eleven million gallons of oil must have been considered pretty low.

‘But for reasons known only to Him, God unleashed His fury and they happened and the Piper Alpha oil rig fire happened as well as a host of other disasters in a short space of time and that left Lloyd’s with a whopping great bill for billions.’

James shivered. Exxon Valdez. That definitely rang a bell. It conjured up pitiful poster images of animals covered in black slime. He remembered protesting about it afterwards in Sydney’s Botanical Gardens on a warm sunny afternoon.

‘How could I ever forget the Exxon Valdez oil spill? It happened in 1989, when I was in Canada. Everyone there was outraged. Nina spent hours one night explaining to me why they all were so upset. Canada is very environment conscious and at Whistler, well, the world is divided into rednecks and greenies. Thousands of otters and rare sea birds died. Just three weeks after we arrived in Australia,
Nina had us marching with thousands of others through the streets of Sydney to demonstrate our outrage at Exxon. They tried to pass it off as a freak accident but the truth was it was just one of a long line of oil spills.’

Felix raised an eyebrow.

‘Well, they
were
held accountable,’ he said. ‘They
were
made to clean up their mess. At a cost. Sorry to tell you, buddy boy, but that cost was borne by Lloyd’s insurers. By you.’

The irony wasn’t lost on James. He gave a rueful smile. God had a wicked sense of humour. ‘How much am I up for, Felix? Give it to me straight.’

Felix shook his head. ‘It’s too soon to say. Lloyd’s are still working out how much they need to pay out for these disasters. Then there’s the asbestosis – that’s going to be a corker. This is all just the tip of the iceberg. When they have worked out their sums, they will charge the relevant syndicate.’

The syndicate. James remembered when he had heard about the syndicates. They were groups of individual investors who were placed together to underwrite specific policies. The idea of being in a syndicate with the likes of former prime minister Malcolm Fraser and British royalty such as Prince Michael of Kent had completely overawed him. He didn’t have to have any money. To join a syndicate with such people he just had to show on paper that he had assets worth $250,000 and he was in.

He had swanned around that Sydney penthouse
suite with a glass of champagne in his hand feeling like he was king of the universe. There were so many names he recognised, Baillieu and Myer, assorted CEOs of Australia’s best known companies, faces he recognised from the social pages, the business pages, even the sports pages. Only 616 Australians had been invited to join the exclusive ‘club’ and James was one of them. It was a badge of honour, like having ‘old money’ stamped on his passport.

James remembered his pride and excitement, standing there alongside the moneyed elite. He hadn’t needed any convincing. He was ready to sign on the dotted line. And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, came the icing on the cake: he would have to fly to London to be vetted by a committee, a mere formality he was assured, and to sign the papers.

To the young man who felt that he had failed his country and never measured up to his family, it was a heady mix. How proud his father would be. James pictured his father slapping him on the back jovially and saying something like ‘Well done, son.’ The image gave him a warm glow.

He broached the subject with Frederick at the first opportunity. James was working on cellar door sales and tastings right next to his father’s office at the vineyard but it had taken nearly a week to find his father alone, away from other workers, his brother, his mother, the telephone and the relentless stream of daily problems. Finally, he had his father’s undivided attention.

James had been all keyed up and excited, the words bubbling out of his mouth. Frederick had gone on reading his wine magazine, grunting about the latest wine ratings, barely bothering to look up. Frederick mistrusted investing in anything he couldn’t plant his feet on. He didn’t see it as the golden opportunity that James did nor was he the least bit impressed by the celebrity of the other investors. He wasn’t interested in being in a syndicate with judges and prime ministers and royals. What for? He didn’t know them. And they could go broke just as easily as anyone else, he had told James. James felt deflated and dismissed.

He had looked at his father in near despair. Frederick would never understand. He didn’t think big enough. For two days after the Lloyd’s discussion, James had quietly fumed. He resented what he saw as the small-minded way his father ran the business and it started to irritate him how easily his brother and his father worked together. They were like peas in a pod. Apart from being so physically similar, they seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking. Being around them in the vineyard was like hearing only half a conversation as they didn’t seem to need words to communicate. James found it hard to keep up. Dinner times were spent with the two of them talking business, Patty agreeing and James keeping his rebellious thoughts to himself.

James carried around two images of himself. On the one hand he saw himself as a hard-working, contributing member of a successful wine family, a
former Olympian and a globalist who had seen some of the world and exuded a certain level of sophistication. When his confidence was high and he was happy, that was the person he believed he was. He felt like that around Nina. At other times, when his confidence was low or he was intimidated by people or surroundings, he saw himself as lightweight, a mere adjunct to the family business, a failed Olympian who hadn’t brought home a gold medal and the son of nothing more than a small-time, hokey farmer.

James’s memories of the summer of 1987 were painful. He didn’t like the way that he had behaved and he couldn’t think about that time with any sort of clarity. There was an overlay of tumultuous emotion that obscured any sense of reason.

Felix had been surprised to see him standing on the doorstep of his city apartment with his suitcase but had welcomed him anyway. James had told Felix he couldn’t join Lloyd’s because his father was too much of a dullard and country bumpkin. James remembered every self-superior word he had uttered.

‘I need to get as far away from that place as I can,’ he had said.

Felix had been happy for James to stay at his apartment but he was leaving for London in a few days. On the spot James decided to go with him. By the time their plane left, James had decided that it was fate and he was meant to go to the sort of places that Lloyd’s could take him. He shouldn’t allow his father to hold him back.

Tucked into his backpack when he boarded the plane was a letter of credit from his bank in Phillip St, Sydney, secured against his third share of the family business, which he had inherited when he turned 21. That single sheet of paper showed that James had assets of $250,000. It had been so simple. Now all he needed to do was to give that to a bank in England to secure a letter of credit from them and he would be in – a Lloyd’s name by the end of the month.

James was quite sure his actions wouldn’t have an impact on his father or the business. He didn’t waste any energy worrying that he was going directly against his father’s wishes. He told himself that his father lacked the foresight and vision that James possessed.

Pride certainly did come before a fall. He had been so puffed up. Now came the fall. It was going to be colossal, commensurate with the appalling degree of pride he had exhibited. Sitting in Felix’s office remembering his feelings that night, the gloating and the arrogance, James was filled with self-loathing.

Nina bundled the shopping bags into the boot of the car. A heavy pall of despondency had settled over her as she moved about the supermarket aisles. Toilet cleaner. A replacement for the mop head. Bleach for James’s shirts. Nothing glamorous about any of it. She had resented every item, seething against James as she picked them off her
list, one by one. She piled it all into the boot, feeling the heavy thud of depression in her chest.

She slammed the boot hard. What was she going to do for the day? She had hoped the weekly shopping would take longer.

She started to manoeuvre the little car into the traffic. Joining the throngs on the road was like being swallowed by a big, moving crocodile. Nina tightened her hands on the wheel, steeled herself and, when she spotted a gap, threw herself in with the rest. Then she could relax, confident she had little else to do. The traffic would take her past Rushcutters Bay to the turn-off for home.