Bittersweet Symphony

CHAPTER 1

It was late November when Lena and her husband Alex had a few Christmas reunions to attend. The mountain biking club Lena belonged to went out to have dinner on the very same evening that Alex had a Christmas reunion with his coworkers. She was happy to go on her own, but Alex’s company would have been a bonus.

After all, we’ve only been married for a year and a half.

***

A colourful and noisy group of nearly thirty mountain bikers had gathered at a Newtown pub. Lena struck up a conversation with Lyle, one of her bicycling mates, and his girlfriend Charlotte.

Why the hell does she look so mightily peeved?

Being a trained psychologist, Lena often tended to find herself caught up in the role of observer. She had grown up a lonely child, even though she had three younger brothers. Three was her number when it came to the opposite sex. Alex was her third husband. She had three sons, one with each of her two exes and an ‘adopted’ one who was the son of her second ex’s current partner.

Lena enjoyed the company of young people, but was intrigued by Charlotte’s unusual mood. Both women ended up having a chin-wag in the noisy open space at the pub.

‘I can see you want to give the crowds a miss ... Or am I wrong?’ asked Lena.

Charlotte heaved a sigh and played with her earrings.

‘Lena, I know for a fact that Lyle has fucked somebody else ... That cow who used to join us until a couple of months ago. I was too busy to suspect anything, until I discovered some lipstick on one of his shirts. Then I found a pack of condoms in Lyle’s bike saddles ... No, I didn’t look for any evidence ... He left them open in the sunroom ... and the pack stared me in the face!’

That confession came from left field … Poor thing, maybe she needs to talk to a mature person, or a psychologist …

‘Have you discussed this with Lyle?’ asked Lena, still astonished.

Charlotte’s beautiful green eyes filled with tears.

‘No ... I love him very much. Why did he have to do it? We’re really great lovers ... I never say no ... He never says no ... It just doesn’t make sense!’

Lena was taking in Charlotte’s words and digesting them.

Some men can be a law unto themselves ...

Malena Anouk Foch, known to the world as Lena, Diploma in Counselling and Master of Clinical Psychology, took over.

‘Charlotte, an affair or a fling doesn’t have to be the end. I believe Lyle loves you, but needed to assert his male ego by testing his manhood with somebody else. That doesn’t make him an unloving man. Better think of what you want to do in the face of all this.’

I feel like giving Lyle a kick between the legs ... There is no worse pain for a man than having his beloved balls busted, ha!

However, Lena would never have admitted that to Charlotte. She stayed in the counsellor’s role, reluctant to play devil’s advocate or fan the flames. All the same, the thought hit home. She and Alex were out on the town with different groups of people and it was going to be a long night.

Charlotte stared at Lena.

‘Frankly, I feel like walking out on him, but my mum said the other day that I must hang in there. It’s insane; I feel like crying the whole day!’

Lena led Charlotte to the ladies’, where she had a good cry.

Arianne Lyons, one of the bikers, stuck her head through the door.

‘Where the ...? Oh, no!’ she exclaimed.

Lena waved her away; Charlotte would not have been keen on including a third party in all her misery. Lena felt a sudden senseless impulse to leave and join Alex, wherever he was.

Ten minutes after Arianne left, Charlotte was feeling a bit calmer. Nevertheless, Lena was not; it was as though Charlotte’s anxiety had hit her like a rocket. She fumbled for her mobile phone in her bag and dialled Alex’s number.

‘Hello, this is Alex Parsons. I’m unable to take your call right now. Please leave a message after the tone. Have a great day!’

‘Hi, it’s me, love. I wanted to know if you needed a lift back home. Love you heaps. Kiss kiss.’

It wasn’t like her at all to leave such an insubstantial message.

Why the hell didn’t he pick up the phone?

Charlotte and Lena joined the rest of the group. While Charlotte looked sullen and sour, Lena zoned out.

I’m under the impression that the party’s been ruined for good.

She ended up leaving an hour later and drove Arianne to her place, only a few minutes away from the pub.

‘Hey, you’ve gone AWOL ... Are you OK?’

Arianne’s voice seemed to be coming from the end of a tunnel. Lena simply nodded, her eyes fixed on the road. After dropping Arianne off, Lena drove away. She called Alex on her way home and his voicemail greeted her again. She decided to leave another message.

‘Hi there, my love. I’m on my way home. You must be having good fun. See you in a bit. Kiss.’

Something was not quite right. Alex’s phone battery never went flat because he left his phone on the charger most of the time. Again, Lena considered going to where Alex and his coworkers were, but did not act upon that thought. She had raged against control freaks not only professionally, but also in her everyday life. If she was on good terms with Daniel and Paul, her exes, in spite of the roller-coaster style of relationship she had had with them, it was because she had respected their space and they had respected hers.

Apart from her three marriages, Lena’s romantic life had been a succession of grandiose moments with short-term lovers, one-night stands and two simultaneous live-in boyfriends in between her marriages. While wedded, sex would take a while before becoming stale. A few months after childbirth, Lena had grown restless and sought variety through seductive instigation. After her second marriage collapsed, she suffered major depression. Daniel and Paul had a long conversation with her and her treating specialist. As a result, the following day Lena was hospitalised. Having been diagnosed as bipolar type II, she felt incredibly fragile, but slowly managed to pick up the pieces of a life gone out of whack. Sadly, she was in no condition to take care of her two sons on a daily basis. Thus, it was decided they would live with ‘the dads’—Paul and his partner Zaf—from then on. 

Lena had been a graphic designer for some time, but after her discharge from hospital she decided to study psychology at the University of New South Wales. Changing careers from graphic design to practising psychologist had been anything but easy, but she was immensely proud of her achievement. Her road to recovery had turned into a journey towards growth and self-discovery. She met her third husband, Alex Parsons, at a function organised by a mental health advocacy group. He had been suffering from depression and life had almost sucked him dry.

Romantic Lena had eyes for no other man and love blossomed. Her career had gone from strength to strength and she started her PhD at the University of Sydney. A year after they met, Alex and Lena got married in his hometown—Leura—and had a glamorous wedding reception with a fairytale Blue Mountains backdrop. A few months into their marriage, Alex had grown detached from Lena, but she chalked it up to having settled into a ‘calmer’ relationship style. Passion could be episodic—like bipolar disorder—and Lena allowed herself to mistrust her old self with its emotional seasons and patterns. With her newfound wisdom, she had become a woman without a care in the world ... until that Friday night.

When she arrived home—a beautiful townhouse in Drummoyne—there was an eerie calm around. Her mobile phone played its SMS ringtone. She picked it up and tapped on the message screen with trepidation.

Thanx so much 4 your help, Lena. I feel better now. Lyle and I have agreed 2 go out 4 a coffee & talk tomorrow morning. Sweet dreams, Charlotte XO

With a mixture of happiness and disappointment, Lena decided to call Alex again and left another short voice message. She was becoming obsessive, but could not help it. Once in the house, she poured herself a gin and tonic and paced up and down her home office like a caged lioness. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

Perhaps he’s had an accident ... Perhaps he’s lost his mobile phone ... Note to self: mistrust him not, unless there’s solid proof ... Easier said than done.

Lena stormed into Alex’s study and scanned his desk.

Why, why, why ...? This is insane ...! He isn’t feeding me porkies ... Well, I’m not too sure ...

He had left his laptop on. Lena scrolled down his Outlook window, where she found a message that struck her as inappropriate and suspicious.

Subject: Shall we have some fun 2nite?

From: Marianne Plint

To: Alex Parsons

I enjoyed our talk today. Let’s carry on after the party! Like in the good old days ...

Cheers, M

That email said it all. It explained why Alex’s mobile phone was switched off. Tears came rushing in and rolled down Lena’s cheeks. She refrained from punching the laptop screen.

The ‘good old days’ with Marianne ...

Marianne was the only person from Alex’s team of coworkers whom Lena could never figure out. A well-built brunette with green eyes and a deep voice, she had always avoided Lena. Once she had joked about it in conversation with Alex and he simply said Marianne was ‘full of crap’ and wanted all ‘male attention focused on her long legs’.

Lena regained her senses and dried her tears with a tissue. She entered Marianne’s name into the Outlook search field and a long list of emails rolled onscreen. It would have been pointless to read them all searching for more clues. She considered driving to the restaurant where Alex and his coworkers had met up, but after having downed a double gin and tonic, it would have been unwise to drive. The police would be breath testing the whole Sydney population. Lena sank in Alex’s chair and started sobbing again.

It was well past two o’clock in the morning when she stood up full of resentment and despair. The house was as quiet as a tomb; oppression started to set in.

I’ll have to divorce the bastard. He’s decided to make use of that long party night to fuck around. What the hell! I need another drink.

The psychologist had disappeared into some recess of her mind, and a hurt, betrayed female had taken control. She staggered back to the kitchen and poured herself a long scotch.

I need to go to bed. Some pills would help. My lithium, of course … And a sleeping pill ... Or two ... Or three ...

Lena picked up a glass of water from the kitchen, swallowed a lithium tablet and then five sleeping pills. Soon her head started pounding and nausea overtook her. She dragged herself to the lounge. The room was spinning around and she groped her way to a big leather armchair. Her brain was shutting down fast and the last recollection she would later have of that moment would be the two house cats staring at her.

***

Lena woke up the following day—Saturday—in a hospital ward. Her mouth felt sore; she had a burning feeling in her chest and could hardly focus her eyes. In the crude daylight, Alex appeared to be glaring at her.

The nurse standing next to her bed said, ‘You’re at Royal Prince Alfred Hospital.’

‘What time is it?’ asked a bewildered Lena.

‘Eleven-thirty in the morning. How are you feeling? We had to give you a gastric lavage ... That is, a stomach pump,’ explained the nurse.

Lena shut her eyes and then squinted. Alex held her stare, but did not utter a single word. He was still wearing his designer suit from the night before. When the nurse left the room, he took off his jacket. Dimly at first, Lena saw a barely hidden lovebite on his neck.

CHAPTER 2

Lena felt an unusual sense of protection drifting in and out of sleep. Her husband was mysteriously gone. At four in the afternoon, she decided to call Arianne Lyons. Mick, Arianne’s husband, was a private detective whose services would be instrumental for the idea that had started taking shape in her head.

‘You’re at RPAH! My God! Whatever the hell happened to you, cutie pie!’ exclaimed Arianne when Lena called her. ‘Mick will be back in half an hour. We’ll see you in about forty-five.’

‘Thanks! I look forward to seeing you two ...’

With those words and feeling suddenly weak, Lena hung up.

***

Arianne’s friendship was a true blessing in Lena’s life. A tall, slim blonde who could have easily passed herself off as a catwalk model, Arianne always took Lena’s changing moods in her stride and was not judgemental in the least. They had become close friends after they had been bitter rivals over a minor matter involving Kenny—a cad they had been dating simultaneously. He had been the real enemy that had taken both of them for a ride.

As soon as Arianne arrived with Mick, she hugged Lena and sat down at her bedside. Mick stood by in silence.

‘Lena, I’d have never imagined ... But you can’t act upon an email and what you thought was a lovebite as the only evidence! Your thoughts, Mick?’

He scratched his head, took a deep breath and stared at Lena. He had inquisitive hazel eyes and sported a thick greying beard.

‘We’ve got to act quickly. Do you know what Alex will be up to today?’

Lena shook her head sheepishly.

‘Perhaps you can give him a call. Let’s take it from there,’ suggested Mick.

Lena nodded and clutched her mobile phone to dial Alex’s number. His voicemail came up again and she hung up. Changing tack, she dialled her house number. Alex answered immediately.

‘Lena, how are you feeling?’

He sounded tense.

‘Better, thanks. A lot less foggy. Are you coming to see me?’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow. You need a rest.’

‘Tomorrow!’ she yelled in disbelief. ‘Why tomorrow?’

‘Because it’s better for you to take a rest. The doctor said you’ll be in hospital for another couple of days.’

Alex’s glacial tone of voice was more than Lena could bear. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

‘I’ll be there tomorrow,’ promised Alex. ‘But I’ll give you a call later in the evening. Bye.’

Alex’s nonchalance left Lena stumped, suspicious and sour. Then she relayed the result of her phone call to her friends.

Mick snorted.

‘I reckon that perhaps my business partner Phil could follow your hubby for a couple of hours. If I do, the strategy I’m thinking about won’t pay off ... Got a recent pic of Alex in your mobile?’

Lena nodded.

‘Cool. SMS it to me and I’ll take it from there. We must be quick. Alex’s at your place now, so if I get Phil to drive there, we’ll find out why Alex isn’t coming here tonight,’ he concluded.

The cocktail of drugs and alcohol that Lena had had the night before was still heavy on her brain, but she could only come to one reasonable conclusion.

‘Mick, I can’t thank you enough. I haven’t got my credit cards here, but I’ll pay you as soon as possible. I need evidence to find out if I’m just paranoid ... or what ...’

Arianne gave her a look of deep concern and voiced her thoughts.

‘I agree. You need evidence or something ... Alex isn’t coming here tonight ... Hmmm ... doesn’t look right to me. How prepared are you to face the truth, whatever that is?’ she inquired.

Lena stared at her; then stared at Mick and out of the window.

‘I suppose I must take the truth in my stride,’ she replied.

Nevertheless, a feeling of dread and hopelessness was gathering momentum in her.

Mick excused himself to take an incoming call. Lena’s head was heavy with neurochemicals gone out of whack. Her friend handed her a glass of water and helped her sip it with motherly concern.

‘So what next?’ she asked. ‘After Phil gathers all the evidence, I reckon you may have to talk to Alex. I hope there’s some big mistake here and that it’s all a nightmare you’ll soon wake up from. How come that somebody as loving as Alex ...?’

‘I don’t know ...’ Lena interrupted her while fiddling with her mobile phone. ‘He’s been drifting away from me, but I thought ... I’d also need to talk to my sons ...’

‘I can do that for you.’

Arianne would be able to break the tough news wisely. She was a good friend of Mark’s—Lena’s youngest son, a web developer. Arianne was a freelance art director and outsourced web work to him on a regular basis.

Just then, Mick came back in and announced that ‘Operation Alex’ was fully under way. He hesitated to continue because he noticed Lena’s eyes were heavy with sleep, but she managed to perk herself up.

‘Thanks, Mick! That was fast ... When do you think I’ll hear from you?’

‘As soon as you’re ready,’ was the straight answer, but Mick rephrased his thoughts. ‘I mean ... Phil will have to write a full report with supporting evidence ... Confronting stuff, probably. Dunno ... It’s a worry, you see. I’m your friend and I’d hate to be the bearer of bad news ...’

‘Phil should contact Lena, not you, shouldn’t he?’ asked Arianne.

Mick nodded gravely.

‘This whole thing is so emotionally draining it makes me sleepy,’ slurred Lena.

Someone had brought in a dinner tray, but none of them had noticed before.

‘No dinner for me tonight. I’m not hungry ...’

‘OK,’ whispered Arianne. ‘I’ll try to come back tomorrow, cutie pie. Sweet dreams in the meantime.’

She bent down to hug Lena and Mick blew a kiss in her direction. Lena waved goodbye. Her hand and eyelids felt very heavy. Soon, exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.

***

On Sunday morning, Lena woke up at six. Stretching her long limbs felt like a massive effort, but she managed to stay awake and got up to go to the toilet. The other two patients in the ward were asleep. The toilet was less than five metres away from Lena’s bed and the short walk helped her clear her head. After she finished, she slid her svelte frame back under the sheets. Propping herself up with the pillow, she picked up her mobile phone and sent Dr. Sylvia Benson, her treating psychiatrist, a short SMS.

Hi Sylvia. I’m in hospital. Would need to talk to u. Thx, Lena Foch

At half-past seven, an assistant nurse brought breakfast in. It was a positive sign that Lena was hungry and not nauseous—as the lithium and sleeping pills overdose had made her feel the day before—so she sat up in bed to have a much-needed meal. She ate breakfast hungrily. It was not the best breakfast on earth and she had never enjoyed toasted white bread, but orange marmalade made it passable.

As she swallowed the last piece of toast, Lena thought of ringing up Aleksandr Frydman, her mentor. Aleksandr—or Lex for short—was a psychiatrist whom Lena considered an academic powerhouse. She had started her PhD under the supervision of Dr. Roberta Jameson-Rothmann, an associate professor of adult psychology with an outstanding international reputation. Lena’s colleagues applauded her choice of thesis supervisor, but unanimously thought that her choice of mentor was an academic pie in the sky. However, Lex was no ordinary psychiatrist. His approach to mental health was holistic. He was well acquainted with Lena’s medical history and had shown deep interest in her work, which mainly involved treating adult patients on a one-on-one basis. She dialled Lex’s mobile number and he answered immediately.

‘Hi, Lex Frydman speaking.’

There was a short pause before Lena spoke.

‘Hi, Lex. It’s ...’

‘G’day, Lena! I know it’s you ... Are you all right? What’s up?’

His astonishment at hearing her voice on the phone was palpable.

She struggled to find the right words, so she just muttered, ‘I’m in hospital ... Won’t be meeting you tomorrow ...’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that ... What happened? I mean ... Can you talk?’

Lena looked around her. The other two patients had woken up and had breakfast as well. There was very little movement around, but she became flustered and self-conscious.

‘I’m at RPAH ... Had a mix of ... lithium ... sleeping pills ...’

Dead silence on the other end of the line.

‘ ... and spirits ... I passed out and woke up here.’

‘When did that happen?’

Lex’s question was clinical and precise.

‘Friday evening ... Alex called the ambos. They brought me here unconscious ...’

Lena’s voice trailed off. Lex the psychiatrist took over in no time flat.

‘Will see you later if that’s OK. Let’s say that our Monday meeting will be twenty-four hours earlier, at a different location.’

Tears rushed into Lena’s eyes and she could only manage a faltering ‘thanks’.

‘No worries, Lena. Will see you sometime around midday.’

‘See you, Lex ... Again ... Thanks!’

Lena hung up, took a tissue from a box that one of the nurses had left for her and buried herself under the blankets to muffle her sobs.

***

At around eleven o’clock Lena’s sons stepped in. A trio of handsome young men looking rather concerned, pulled up a couple of chairs and sat down after giving her a kiss. Mark sat down on Lena’s bed as she tried to reassure all of them with a forced smile.

‘Vieja, what’s up? I got Arianne’s call saying that you were here, but that you were OK. The dads say hi,’ said Mark.

Vieja, vieja… Why not ‘mum’?

Lena started weeping and blabbering.

‘I had a ... lithium ... overdose ... sleeping pills ... with a few drinks and ...’

In front of her sons, she felt distraught and embarrassed. By then, the other patients did not register at all. Mark waved, as if to push her words aside, and glanced at Ross and Nigel. Ross held her hand and spoke.

‘Mum, shame is out of the question. You’ll be OK and we’re ‘team Lena’, right? ... Where’s Alex, by the way?’

‘He’s coming soon,’ answered Lena.

Ross winced as though he had been hit by an unexpected punch, and it was Nigel who spoke next.

‘When he arrives, we’ll leave and come back later ... Or whenever you need us.’

Lena’s sons stared at her and then at one another with worry and an unspoken sense of rage.

It isn’t rage against me, though ...

She had always thought their relationship with Alex was amicable and he seemed to like them as well.

 ... but right now I’m not so sure ...

Some people envied ‘the secret of her success’—how Lena and her sons had built a non-dysfunctional relationship against all odds. She was well aware that she had been a less-than-ideal mother. Still, she was the only mother they ever knew. They had not had a chat in weeks, but their visit was calming and reassuring. It was second nature to the four of them to have conversations that would go on for hours, so in spite of the circumstances, or perhaps because of them, they talked for a good hour and a half.

***

When Alex strolled into the ward, he appeared astonished to see Lena’s sons. She experienced an unexpected wave of warmth and love towards him. He walked up to her bed and gave her a quick kiss.

‘Hello guys, good to see you here. Did you get my message?’ asked Alex.

‘Yes, I did,’ replied Ross tersely. ‘Thanks.’

He peered intently into Alex’s eyes and clenched his fists. Nigel beckoned Mark and Ross to leave, and they all sprang to their feet. Their body language had an undertone of unspoken aversion that did not escape Lena.

‘Má, we’ll see you later ...,’ said Mark. With those words, the three of them left.

Alex held Lena’s hand and stared at her. She opened her arms and leaned forward to hug him, but he embraced her lamely.

‘How are you today?’

‘Much better. I’d love a short walk. It helps me clear my head, you know.’

‘Later, perhaps ...’ he decided.

‘OK, sure. What have you been up to?’

‘Fixing a few things at home. Did some gardening and the washing, and tried to come to terms with this whole thing ... I don’t quite get it: you’re a psychologist and take care of many patients and yet you attempted to ... I’m astounded! Please don’t interrupt me ... You’ve underestimated the repercussions that this’d have on me, on your sons, your friends ... on yourself ... How the hell can you help those who talk about suicide or who self-harm?’

‘That’s where you need to remember that I’m human, as human as anybody else. I wasn’t thinking straight, right? I’m not trying to justify myself, but I’m not prepared to talk about it now.’

‘If that’s how you feel about it ...’

‘I understand that when you found me lying in the lounge, it must’ve been a shock. I can put myself in your shoes ... Indeed! I feared you would attempt to kill yourself a few months ago, when your career prospects stalled. Honey, reality’s a lot more complex than we can imagine and we shouldn’t point fingers at each other. For me, acceptance is a lot fairer on both of us. Acceptance ... Moving on ... ’

‘Easier said than done ... What did your sons say?’

He peered at her through half-closed eyes.

‘Nothing. I know they’re worried, but we just talked about their projects. They did cheer me up heaps. You and I can talk about ‘our’ projects too. It’ll give us peace of mind ...’

‘It’ll give you peace of mind, you mean ... You want me to discuss stuff that doesn’t come easily to me today?’

Alex was monumentally upset and his disposition was wiping out the positive vibes Lena experienced with her sons’ visit. She blinked and forced herself not to gulp the bile that oozed from Alex’s comments. He frowned at her and she returned his glare without wavering.

Where’s our love story gone? Perhaps there’s no love story at all and the private eye’s found evidence that’ll open a can of worms ...

Her heart sank. When her mobile phone rang, she answered, fighting back tears.

‘Lena, dear, it’s Paul here. Mark told me you’re in hospital. How are you?’

She could barely speak.

‘Pretty average at the moment.’

Paul Bain, Mark’s father, was her second ex-husband. He proposed to Lena when they found out she was pregnant, only seven months after they had met. Defying what her upbringing, common sense and her best friend Melinda were shouting from the rooftops, Lena decided to accept Paul’s proposal and continue with her pregnancy, even though Paul had openly discussed his bisexuality with her from day one. All the same, a relationship built on a flimsy foundation, fuelled by Lena’s changeable moods, was not meant to last. Shortly after Lena and Paul split up, Paul and Zaf Abbasi—Nigel’s father—took up their on-off relationship again. Contrary to other people’s predictions, it had lasted twenty-five years and was still going strong.

Paul sounded gravely concerned.

‘Chica, I’ve got to see you now, but not if your hubby is around ... Long story.’

‘You make it sound like some cloak-and-dagger thing.’

Alex winced after hearing that comment. Lena sensed he was dying to find out who had called. He started pacing up and down the ward and then stopped to stare out of a window.

Paul continued.

‘What I have to discuss with you is about Alex. More precisely, it’s something to do with the family trust. Very serious stuff.’

The family trust involved Paul, Zaf, the kids and Lena herself, together with Rebecca Dreyfuss-Bain, Paul’s mother. Lena understood that Alex had every right in the world to be interested, but could not figure out why Paul had to discuss ‘serious stuff’ involving Alex and the family trust with her. She started feeling nauseous again.

‘I’m at a café in Newtown, only a few metres away from you ... Mark’s told me that Alex’s come to visit you. Just shoot me an SMS when he’s gone, and we’ll take it from there,’ said Paul.

‘OK, I will. Bye.’

Alex turned around in Lena’s direction and glowered at her.

‘So who’s that secret admirer? Or is it perhaps one of your exes worried about your wellbeing?’

‘Cut the crap, Alex. Since when did you take an interest in my phone calls? Chill out!’

Honey, since when did you do sarcasm so well?

‘Yes, I will. See you tomorrow. Give me a call when you are discharged and I’ll pick you up.’

He managed to sound matter-of-fact, in spite of his previous comment.

When he was gone, Lena texted Paul.

Hi, the coast’s clear. C u soon.

After nearly ten minutes, Paul entered the ward and held Lena in a tight hug. He still had a head full of curls that had grown only mildly grey, leaving some of his original reddish hair. He was tall, still slim and had a magnificent pair of green eyes that right then reflected immense concern.

‘Well, I don’t know where to start,’ he declared. ‘It seems to be my karma to break bad news to good people who are having it tough ... Surely somebody has to do it, but why me?’

He managed a wink and a nod that was meant to be comforting, even though he knew the conversation would be anything but.

‘None of us would ever stop you from leaving the family trust, if it’s your personal decision to quit. Since you remarried, we’ve wished you the best of luck and more. So why the hell does your hubby have to threaten me on the phone, saying that we ... your family ... are using you financially and that we should give you your money back? I didn’t believe for a moment he was acting on your behalf, but I just needed to confirm that with you.’

Lena could only stammer, ‘No, I ... don’t ... need ... an intermediary ... representative ...’

‘I thought so,’ replied Paul.

Paul and Rebecca, his mother, had set up a property trust with a small contribution from Lena—the funds she had not squandered after splitting up with Daniel McAllister, her first husband, which were thus safe from the spending sprees that she would indulge in when she experienced bipolar highs. All the paperwork was straightforward, and after the Sydney property boom at the start of the new millennium, Lena had some equity she could use to buy a home.

At that moment, Lex Frydman stepped into the ward.

‘Hi, Lena. Is it a good time ...?’ he inquired.

He was a handsome though reserved man, whose rimless glasses made him the embodiment of an intellectual. He stood over a metre eighty-five tall and had broad, square shoulders. Lena did not know much about his personal life, except that he had a five-year-old daughter, Nadia, who had experienced some early trauma and could barely speak.

Lena introduced both men.

‘I need a coffee. Would you like one, Lex?’ offered Paul.

‘Coffee? Whoosh! I haven’t had any for ... two hours? Yes, please. A small flat white with no sugar would be fine, thank you!’

Standoffish Lex’s done the one-eighty. Coffee, or the sole mention of it, acts as a catalyst for him to open up.

‘Cool, we’ll be back in no time flat, with your flat white. Anyway, Lena, what do you intend to do about what I told you?’

Lena was not expecting such a question, even though it made sense.

‘Paul, I don’t really know. There’s plenty of stuff I don’t know what to do about and this adds to my woes ... I’m glad you kept me in the loop, though.’

In a strange twist of fate, Lena had two different issues to deal with, both of them involving her husband, and both of them mystifying and unsettling. Paul left after winking at Lena.

Lex stared at her intently, making her feel self-conscious.

‘So which of your ex-hubbies is Paul?’ he asked.

‘The second. Mark’s dad ... He’s come in to tell me about a wacko call he received from Alex. Perhaps I should start from the beginning ... Why I’m here ...’

Lex nodded and Lena briefed him. Though he had a piercing stare, she did not feel intimidated. He listened for a good half hour without interrupting.

‘How do you feel about this whole thing?’ he asked, his eyes fixed on Lena while she snuggled under the bedding.

‘How do I feel? Cheated, disappointed, taken for a ride ... Disrespected ... In need of finding out the truth ...’

Lex nodded silently.

‘ ... whatever that truth is ...’

Lex’s turned from mentor into substitute therapist…

Soon Paul was back with the coffee and with Zaf, his partner.

‘That was fast!’ exclaimed Lena.

‘Lex, your coffee ...’

Paul gasped and handed Lex a cup of coffee. Zaf kissed Lena’s cheeks gently and did not say a word. She needed a break to go to the bathroom, and when she returned, Lex was drinking his coffee with such indescribable gusto that Lena wished she were having some herself. The three men made small talk, while Lena recalled the days when her sons were little and when family dynamics had shifted after Ross and Mark went to live with Paul and Zaf. In the 1980s, there was nothing more inconceivable than two gay men raising three little boys. Lena had been at a psychiatric facility for nearly two months recovering from depression and somebody had to take care of her sons. Her first husband Daniel had moved to Perth for good, so Paul and Zaf organised themselves to take care not only of Nigel—who had been living with them for some time—but also of Ross and Mark.

‘Hey, Lena!’ cried Zaf. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yup!’ she replied.

Zaf was quite unlike Paul in the looks department. He was a bit overweight, still had a full head  of black hair, and sported a well-kept goatee and moustache. However, something that both men had in common was their taste in clothes and their commitment to the cause of metrosexuality. Aftershave for them was not enough; they had to go in for moisturisers, facials, massage, and even cosmetic surgery. It made professional sense for them as well: Mark had mentioned that they wanted to open a spa.