The Helen Bianchin Collection

She closed her eyes, then opened them again. It had taken a day of deliberation before making the final choice... How long ago? A month? Now the order had been mixed up. Great. ‘OK, Mamma. Let’s not panic.’

Her mother’s voice escalated. ‘It was perfect, just perfect. There wasn’t another to compare with it.’

‘I’ll go sort it out.’ A phone call from the boutique to the manufacturer in Paris, and the use of a courier service should see a successful result.

Aysha should have known it couldn’t be that simple.

‘I’ve already done that,’ the boutique owner relayed. ‘No joy, unfortunately. They don’t have another in stock. The design is intricate, the seed pearls needed are held up heaven knows where, and the gist of it is, we need to choose something else.’

‘OK, let’s do it.’ It took an hour to select, ascertain the order could be filled and couriered within the week.

‘That’s definite,’ the vendeuse promised.

Now why didn’t that reassure her? Possibly because she’d heard the same words before.

An hour later she had to concede there were diverse gremlins at work, for the white embroidered stockings ordered hadn’t arrived. The lace suspender belt had, but it didn’t match the garter belt, as it was supposed to do.

Teresa would consider it a catastrophe. Aysha merely drew in a deep breath, ascertained the order might be correctly filled in time, decided might wasn’t good enough, and opted to select something else with a guaranteed delivery.

It was after midday when she collected the last carry-bag and added it to the collection she held in each hand. Shoes? Did she have time if she was to meet Teresa and Gianna at Double Bay for lunch at one? She could always phone and say she’d be ten or fifteen minutes late.

With that thought in mind she entered the Queen Victoria building and made her way towards the shoe shop.

It was a beautiful old building, historically preserved, and undoubtedly heritage-listed. Aysha loved the ambience, the blend of old and modern, and she admired a shop display as she rode the escalator to the first floor.

She’d only walked a few steps when an exquisite bracelet showcased in a jeweller’s window caught her eye, and she paused to admire it. The gold links were of an unusual design, and each link held a half-carat diamond.

‘I’m sure you’ll only have to purr prettily in Carlo’s ear, and he’ll buy it for you.’

Aysha recognised the voice and turned slowly to face the young woman at her side. ‘Nina,’ she acknowledged with a polite smile, and watched as Nina’s expression became positively feline.

She took in the numerous carry-bags and their various emblazoned logos. ‘Been shopping?’

Aysha effected a faint shrug. ‘A few things I needed to collect.’

‘I was going to ring and invite you to share a coffee with me. Can you manage a few minutes now?’

The last thing she wanted was a tête-à-tête with Nina... with or without the coffee. ‘I really don’t have time. I’m meeting Teresa and Gianna for lunch.’

‘In that case...’ She slid open her attaché case, extracted a large square envelope and slipped it into one of Aysha’s carry-bags. ‘Have fun with these. I’m sure you’ll find them enlightening.’ Closing the case, she proffered a distinctly feline smile. ‘Ciao. See you tomorrow night at the sculpture exhibition.’

Given the social circle in which they both moved, their attendance at the same functions was inevitable. Aysha entertained the fleeting desire to give the evening exhibition a miss, then dismissed the idea. Bruno would never forgive their absence.

Aysha caught the time on one of the clocks featured in the jeweller’s window, and hurriedly made for the bank of escalators.

Five minutes later she joined the flow of traffic and negotiated a series of one-way streets before hitting the main arterial one that would join with another leading to Double Bay.

Teresa and Gianna were already seated at a table when she entered the restaurant, and she greeted them both warmly, then sank into a chair.

‘Shall we order?’

‘You were able to sort everything out with the bridal boutique?’

It was easier to agree. Afterwards she could go into detail, but right now, here, she didn’t want Teresa to launch into a long diatribe. ‘Yes.’

‘Bene.’ Her mother paused sufficiently long for the waiter to take their order. ‘You managed to collect everything?’

‘Except shoes, and I’m sure I’ll find something I like in one of the shops here.’ Double Bay held a number of exclusive shops and boutiques. ‘I’ll have a look when we’ve finished lunch.’

It was almost two when they emerged onto the pavement, and Aysha left both women to complete their shopping while she tended to the last few items on her list.

A rueful smile played at the edges of her mouth. In a little over a weeek all the planning, the shopping, the organising... it would all be over. Life could begin to return to normal. She’d be Aysha Santangelo, mistress of her own home, with a husband’s needs to care for.

Just thinking about those needs was enough to send warmth coursing through her veins, and put wickedly sensuous thoughts in her head.

During the next two hours she added to the number of carry-bags filling the boot of her car. The envelope Nina had slid into one of them drew her attention, and she pulled it free, examined it, then, curious as to its contents, she undid the flap.

Not papers, she discovered. Photographs. Several of them. She looked at the first, and saw a man and a woman embracing in the foyer of a hotel.

Not any man. Carlo. And the woman was Nina.

Aysha’s insides twisted and began to churn as she put it aside and looked at the next one, depicting the exterior and name of a Melbourne hotel, the one where Carlo had stayed three weeks ago when he’d been there for a few days on business. Supposedly business, for the following shot showed Carlo and Nina entering a lift together.

Aysha’s fingers shook as she kept flipping the photographs over, one by one. Nina and Carlo pausing outside a numbered door. About to embrace. Kissing.

The evidence was clear enough. Carlo was having an affair... with Nina.

Her legs suddenly felt boneless, and her limbs began to shake. How dared he abuse her trust, her love... everything she’d entrusted in him?

If he thought she’d condone a mistress, he had another think coming!

Anger rose like newly ignited flame, and she thrust the photographs back into the envelope, closed the boot, then slid in behind the wheel of her car.

There were many ways to hurt someone, but betrayal was right up there. She wanted to march into his office and instigate a confrontation. Now.

Except she knew she’d yell, and say things it would be preferable for no one else to overhear.

Wait, an inner voice cautioned as she negotiated peak hour traffic travelling the main east suburban road leading towards Vaucluse.

The car in front braked suddenly, and only a split-second reaction saved her from running into the back of it.

All her fine anger erupted in a stream of language that was both graphic and unladylike. Horns blared in rapid succession, car doors slammed, and there were voices raised in conflict.

Traffic banked up behind her, and it was ten minutes before she could ease her car forward and slowly clear an intersection clogged with police car, ambulance, tow-truck.

Consequently it was after five when she parked the car out front of her parents’ home, and she’d no sooner entered the house than Teresa called her into the kitchen.

‘I’ll be there in a few minutes,’ Aysha responded. ‘After I’ve taken everything up to my room.’