‘It makes you just a man, Joseph. Normal in many ways, exceptional in others. My Joseph Jacklin.’
Joseph smiled. ‘And that was it. The guys survived and I blacked out. Next thing I know, I’m in an army hospital being prepared to return home.’
‘My hero,’ Velda said.
They had reached his house. ‘Well, do you want to come in for some dinner?’
Velda nodded. ‘I’d love that.’ She followed Joseph inside his house.
‘What say we put some records on and I try some dancing?’ he suggested, moving his arms and legs in a stiff, robotic way.
Velda laughed.
‘Joseph.’ It was his father, appearing from the sitting room door, his face grave. ‘Mr Segghetti’s here,’ he whispered.
‘Okay.’
Velda could see that it wasn’t the good news they had been expecting. Joseph faced Velda. ‘We’ll take a rain check on dinner and dancing. I’ll see you later.’ He walked alongside his father towards the sitting room.
‘Let me come in, too,’ Velda pleaded.
Joseph shot a look to his father and thought for a second. ‘Okay.’
Mr Segghetti, a rotund man with an ill-fitting black suit, stood to shake Joseph’s hand as they entered the sitting room. Despite his dubious appearance, he was apparently one of the best divorce attorneys in the city.
‘Mr Segghetti—this is my good friend, Velda,’ Joseph introduced.
‘Ah,’ Mr Segghetti said, taking Velda’s hand in his. ‘It’s a pleasure.’
Velda smiled and retracted her hand from his sweaty grip. Was she reading into it, or had there been some trace of recognition in his voice? Had Joseph told him of his intention to marry again? Or had her name cropped up somehow in the divorce paperwork? She kept her composure and stood primly on the outskirts of the conversation.
‘She won’t accept the terms,’ Mr Segghetti said.
Joseph nodded. It was what he had anticipated. It was what they had all anticipated. ‘Okay, up the offer.’
‘I did—several times.’
‘Up it some more, then,’ Joseph yelled.
‘Mr Jacklin—I’ve presented terms to her attorney that I have never offered before in my career—she won’t take it.’
Joseph blew out a puff of air. ‘Then ask what her terms are.’
‘Mr Jacklin—you’re not understanding me—she has no terms; she won’t divorce you. If you have plans for the future—’ he glanced quickly at Velda ‘—then you’re going to have to rethink them.’
The bubble of anger inside Velda erupted uncontrollably. ‘Damn Audrey!’ she ranted, picking up a cup from the table and launching it at the wall. Dark coffee tears streamed down the flowery silk wallpaper, meeting the shards of bone china on the carpet below.
‘Velda!’ Joseph stammered, stretching out to grab her hand, as she reached for another cup to launch. ‘Stop! Can’t you see, this is what she wants?’
But Velda couldn’t see anything but that evil bitch’s face smirking; that she once again held the upper hand. The rage ravaged her body like a fever. She felt a tight grip on her wrists. She was being pushed down into a chair. Held there while a tirade of curses and invectives spewed from her mouth.
Her eyes were playing tricks on her. The room was dark but a slice of light cut through—found its way through what? A curtain? The window was in the wrong place, though. Velda sat up, her eyes wide, as she demanded more from her cobwebbed mind than it was prepared to give. She had a sagging feeling inside, but she didn’t know what or why. Her mouth was exceptionally dry. She felt across to her bedside table for a glass of water but there was no water and there was no table. Where was she?
Swinging her legs down to the floor, she silently crossed the room, moving towards the light. Yes, it was a curtain. She tugged it wide and was momentarily blinded by the brightness from outside.
The realisation of where she was and the cause of the sagging feeling inside slammed into her brain like a baseball bat. She was in one of the Jacklin guestrooms. God only knew how long she had been there. She remembered flashes of what had taken place, her thoughts having been filtered and sieved through the pall of strong barbiturates.
She was calm now, her thoughts as placid as a glassy lake. She knew what had to be done.
Velda strode over to the door and turned the handle. It was locked. They had locked her in, imprisoned her.
‘Hello?’ Velda shouted, knocking loudly. She repeated her call, ensuring that her voice sounded as normal as possible.
She heard movement outside the room.
‘Hello? Can you open the door, please?’
It was Joseph who unlocked it. Concern and anxiety marked his face. ‘Are you okay, Velda?’
She nodded. ‘Sorry about earlier—but I know what we’ve got to do about her now—’
‘Fight her!’ Joseph interrupted. ‘Get another attorney. Get a whole bunch of attorneys—she’s not going to know what’s hit her.’
‘No,’ Velda said quietly. She took his hand. ‘Come and sit down here.’ She led him to the bed and he sat beside her. ‘What does Audrey want?’
Joseph shrugged. ‘My money?’
‘No, that’s not it.’
‘To make me look dumb?’
‘Nope, that’s not it either.’
‘I don’t know, Velda,’ he answered impatiently. ‘I give up—what does she want?’
‘She wants a game,’ she explained. ‘It’s as simple as that. She wants you to throw money at a whole bunch of attorneys and get whipped up in a big court battle but she doesn’t really care if she wins or loses. Her whole life has been a game, a drama.’
‘So, what? Do nothing—never divorce her?’
‘Play the game back. Do what she would least expect.’
‘And that is what exactly?’ Joseph asked.
‘Leave town. You
