Forgotten Husband. HELEN BIANCHIN

his attention to the road.

      The car’s air-conditioning reduced the force of the midsummer heat, and Elise breathed a silent sigh of relief as he activated the stereo system, glad of the music’s soothing qualities, for it precluded the necessity to converse.

      With seeming fascination she observed the quality and style of the houses lining the wide arterial road begin to change, from small, dark, weathered brick structures sited on small blocks of land to those of larger and more stately design.

      Old mingled with new, their elegant façades revealing a visual attestation of wealth.

      The celluloid print Alejandro had shown her of their home in suburban Point Piper revealed a large double-storeyed mansion overlooking the harbour. How long before they reached it?

      ‘A few more minutes,’ Alejandro told her quietly, almost as if he knew the passage of her thoughts.

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE large vehicle slowed to a halt before a set of ornate steel gates which opened at the touch of an electronic modem, then closed just as quietly behind them as Alejandro eased the car along a wide sweeping driveway.

      The double-storeyed house was an architectural masterpiece in cream cement-rendered brick and floor-to-ceiling tinted glass, its tiled roof a dazzling silver-white, and set well back from the road in beautiful sculptured grounds, whose neat garden borders and profusion of flowers and shrubs were visual proof of a gardener’s loving care.

      The car drew to a halt at the main entrance where an impressive set of heavy panelled doors was offset by a pair of large ornamental urns, and once inside Elise was unable to prevent a faint gasp in awe of the spacious foyer.

      The central focus was a tiered marble fountain, complete with gently cascading water, above which an ornate crystal chandelier hung suspended from the high glass-domed ceiling which lent spaciousness and light. A wide double staircase curved up to an oval balcony from which opposing hallways led to two separate wings.

      Exotically designed panels of stained glass in the huge atrium shot brilliant prisms of multi-coloured light on to the pale walls, magnifying their pattern in an ever-changing sweep controlled by the direction of the sun’s rays.

      ‘It’s beautiful.’ The words slid unbidden from her lips, and she moved forward to pause at the marble fountain. ‘Were you responsible for the design?’

      His eyes were dark, almost still, then he smiled. ‘To some degree—yes. I consulted with numerous experts in order to achieve this result.’

      She put out a hand and trailed her fingers through the water, soothed by its soft flow against her skin, then she turned slightly towards him.

      ‘You must entertain a great deal.’

      His slow smile held warmth. ‘There are occasions when it is more relaxing to invite business associates to one’s home,’ he responded indolently.

      ‘With their wives?’ Where did that come from? A natural assumption, she assured herself silently. Successful men had wives or mistresses. Some presumably had both.

      Did Alejandro possess a mistress?

      He took the few steps necessary to her side and placed a hand beneath her elbow. ‘Let us go into the lounge. Ana will have made tea, and prepared a few delicacies to tempt your appetite.’

      At the silent question mirrored in her expression, he added quietly, ‘Ana takes care of the house and does the cooking. Her husband José looks after the grounds, the cars, and acts as general handyman.’

      His nearness bothered her more than she was willing to admit, and she walked at his side as he ushered her into a beautifully furnished room which commanded a splendid panoramic view of the inner harbour.

      Expensive works of art were spaced at intervals on the silk-covered walls, and provided an elegant backdrop for the magnificent Chinese rugs that covered the marble floor. Predominantly pale blue, employing a delicate mix of cream and the palest pink in their patterned design, the large rugs were a perfect foil for the cream-upholstered sofas and chairs, the rosewood cabinets and profusion of glass-topped occasional tables.

      No sooner had Elise selected a single chair and settled comfortably into its cushioned depths than a pleasantly plump woman of middle years entered the room, wheeling a trolley on which reposed two steaming pots, milk, sugar, cream, and various plates containing a selection of small cakes, pastries, and delicate sandwiches.

      ‘It is so good to have you home again,’ Ana greeted as she poured tea, added milk and sugar, then placed the cup and saucer within easy reach on a glass-topped table beside Elise’s chair.

      ‘Thank you.’ It seemed strange to be faced with a woman she must have dealt with on a daily basis in the six months of her marriage.

      ‘I will make dinner for seven o’clock. Is there anything special you would like?’ The smile broadened with pleasure. ‘You have often complimented Ana on her chicken soup.’

      Elise injected warmth into her voice. ‘Chicken soup will be fine.’

      ‘And afterwards? An omelette, with mushrooms, some cheese, a little tomato, ham?’

      ‘That sounds delicious,’ she qualified, watching idly as Ana poured coffee into a demitasse and handed it to Alejandro before leaving the room.

      The tea tasted like liquid ambrosia, and Elise took a small sandwich, savouring the delicate smoked salmon and cream-cheese filling, accepted another, then declined anything further.

      ‘More tea?’

      ‘Please,’ she acceded gratefully, watching his lengthy frame unfold from the chair. His movements were measured and concise, his hands sure and steady as he refilled her cup and replaced it within easy reach.

      ‘Have you lived here for very long?’ The need to converse seemed paramount, and her fingers shook slightly as she lifted a hand and smoothed back an imaginary lock of hair behind one ear.

      His eyes flared slightly at the nervous gesture, and she made a conscious effort to dampen the edge of panic threatening to assume unmanageable proportions.

      ‘A few years. I had the original house removed, then began from scratch.’

      She felt as if she were on a conversational rollercoaster that she couldn’t stop. ‘During the past week I’ve looked at photograph albums which mean very little, and you’ve provided essential information. Tell me more about how we met, and why.’

      His smile assumed musing indulgence. ‘The need to fill in some of the gaps?’

      ‘There are so many.’

      ‘And you are becoming impatient.’

      ‘Frustrated,’ Elise corrected. ‘I seem to have a hundred questions.’

      ‘All of which you want me to answer at once?’

      Her eyes took on a haunted quality. ‘I need to know.’

      ‘You walked into my office demanding a minimum five minutes of my time.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Your father had borrowed extensively from my merchant bank, and you refused to accept my decision not to extend the loan or the term.’

      She digested the information slowly. ‘You own a merchant bank?’

      ‘I have many investments,’ he revealed solemnly.

      ‘Was I successful in overturning your decision?’

      He seemed to take his time in answering. ‘You could say we eventually reached an understanding.’

      ‘You asked me out.’ This much she knew, because he had told her.

      ‘You