Overlooked Bride Ch. 04

SO FAR: Jilted a few days from the altar and now back in her homeland, business consultant Bianca White's attempt to find a female business partner and possible mate for her first client nose-dives. But the quest continues while both Biance and client Marty Young inch closer together. Exciting times lie ahead for both of them.

*

Bianca White awoke on Saturday morning becoming aware she was stroking her left breast and thinking of her client Marty Young. Oh you lucky man, she thought. Gloria comes to you later this morning. I bet you have clean underpants laid out, she giggled.

Well good luck to him. God, she could do with a man – it was more than a month since that twerp Joe had jilted her in Melbourne. The memory of phoning her folk in France, crying, and then sending out the 'I'm Sorry' letters to invitees on her side remained painful. Her problem was she wasn't socializing to meet men and not reuniting with old girlfriends to give them the opportunity of pairing her with somebody they thought suitable – like he was smart enough to know how to unzip. Yeah! They'd do that pairing expeditiously if she began hanging around to keep their own husbands out of the equation; very clever how the system worked, really.

After a small pot of fat-reduced yoghurt and lightly toasted piece of whole-meal bread with just a smear of marmalade, Bianca finished her coffee with a happy sigh; time to do the housework. She actually looked forward to Saturday morning chores because it made her feel house-proud and she really only cleaned properly on Saturdays, regarding what she did on all other days as 'environmental care'. She hooked up her MP3 player, selecting Sandi Thom's 'Smile, It Confuses People' and pushed the vacuum cleaner around the apartment, humming along with Sandi. The morning just flew by.

Bianca met Kit Hughson, wife of Fitzroy Herbert, MP, at 12:30 at the chosen restaurant overlooking part of the 185-acre Auckland Domain, a reserve of land around the core of an extinct volcano. They greeted each other excitedly,

Fighting against thinking it, unsuccessfully, Bianca mused with Kit having her hair pulled down severely like that and wearing a granny-print dress down to mid-calf and very light pink lipstick plus shoes that looked like clogs, Fitzroy could almost be excused for wandering. But that was overlooking the warm personality under that awful dress.

"Oh Bianca, just look at you – you're blooming," the university lecturer cried as she was drawn into Bianca's enthusiastic hug.

Bianca did look arresting – to both men and women – in a strapless orange and white paneled sundress with matching orange sandals and orange hair tie and white frame sunglasses. The lipstick was violet, not orange. Overall, she looked lithe and lethal.

Eventually they got to the purpose of the luncheon meeting.

"It's going to be a dismal week for me when the crap hits the fan tomorrow with the story about Fitzroy being caught in our garden on a neighbour's telephone camera having sex with my friend against the trunk of an oak tree."

"I thought you caught him in bed?"

"Oh, don't the rumors twist the facts."

Bianca said indignantly, "That wasn't a neighborly thing for the camera person to do."

"She belongs to a party that detest's Fitzroy's lot."

"Were the police called?"

"Advised but declined to become involved when informed the act took place well out of the sight of the public and it occurred on private property."

Bianca smiled and said at least the copulating couple did one thing right by keeping behind bushes.

"Yes, but there were in sight of the neighbor's kitchen windows," said Kit.

"This is awful for you."

"Yes, but thankfully I work in a very liberal environment of a university when this sort of thing is considered normal behavior. I still can't understand why you have been employed to talk to me about this. There is no solution, but I've decided not to divorce him."

Bianca topped up their glasses and signaled for a replacement bottle of the Matakana pinot gris.

"My task is to find a solution. Have you seen a proof of the articles?"

"There is only one article – I detest the other Sunday newspaper."

"I understood you went to both Sunday papers?"

Kit smiled and said it was appalling that rumors could not be trusted. She confirmed only one newspaper was involved and both she and Fitzroy had read the article.

Kit continued: "A conference was set-up which we attended with our lawyer and the three newspaper people had two lawyers there. We first had to sign a paper that we'd not talk to anyone about the article until it was published."

"But Fitzroy spoke to me."

"Well, what do you expect from someone who fucks his wife's best friend?"

"Of course, I see your point. What can you tell me about the article – mind you, you're already in breach of that agreement you signed."

"I know but I knew I could talk to you as I trust you."

"Oh, I see."

"The article is a page 3 story under the heading, 'Naughty Boy Fitzroy'. The neighbor tells what he saw and the writer moralizes and the story summarizes my background and political CV. The article was referred, in confidence, to the Prime Minister who was quoted at saying 'No Comment'. The low resolution photographs have been digitally enhance so are quite clear. The main photo of Fizroy with his trousers around his ankles and slamming into Leta is very arresting, as her Boxer is caught in the shot, looking at them with a very bored look on its face, poor doggie. Another shows Fitzroy with his head in the air – the moment of climax no doubt – and he's clearly identifiable. Leta's face has been partially screened out but her eyes have rolled up into their sockets and her mouth is open, obviously in a great cry of release. I had to agree with one of the newspaper's lawyers – it's a very sexy photograph."

"Oh God, you poor darling. What did you tell them for publication after reading that filth?"

"Nothing – my lawyer said I was only to look – to say nothing, not even to nod my head if asked was the man my husband – and they did ask. He also urged me to display no emotion and I believe I acted like a pro. Er, a professional actress."

"I'm sure you did."

"What do you want from me, Bianca?"

"For me to collect you from your home at 5:00 tomorrow afternoon and take you to the 'New Zealand Herald' where a reporter and photographer will interview us at 5:30. You may ask your lawyer to meet us there if you wish. I just want you to tell the newspaper the incident has distressed and disgusted you but when you married you vowed to stick with Fitzroy for better or for worse so you've decided to stay with him and bring him to heel."

"Bring him to heel?"

"Yes, Kit. Your twin declarations of disgust and promise to reform him will save Fitzroy's career provided he's not vilified by his parliamentary peers. I rather think, however, there are too many guilt-laden politicians in the House to get enough votes mustered to toss Fitzroy out of Parliament or his own party. People voting for ejection know the media will gleefully probe into their backgrounds for just a sniff of scandal."

"You want me to be quoted publicly that I forgive Fitzroy?"

"Indeed so he bounces back but not quite smelling of roses."

"I won't do it."

Kit looked at Bianca and her defiance wilted. "What?"

"I have no wish to swing the paint brush on you Kit."

"What – pressure me; you have nothing on me?"

"Those monthly girl's nights out for a tight-knit group of university lecturers are really just one big mass of heaving naked female flesh."

"Oh God, how do you know?"

"Everyone knows but says nothing, Kit. That's the beauty of the liberal atmosphere at the university. Students in my day would have thought something was up if you hadn't been involved in such licentious, normal behavior."

"Oh God, pour me more wine."

They were asked to leave the restaurant after everyone had gone; staff wished to take their late afternoon break. Much of the time had been absorbed by Bianca answering Kit's question how to heighten Fitzroy's interest in her. Kit agreed to make an appointment with Bianca's beautician on Monday and go shopping together on Wednesday afternoon, Kit's regular half-day off.

Bianca couldn't bring herself to suggest Leta be invited to occasionally join Kit and Fitzroy but thought Fitzroy was bound to come up with that expansive idea.

After a nap Bianca called Fitzroy at his apartment in Wellington. He was breathing heavily as if working on home gym equipment or being on something else.

"That's great. I'm flying home tonight at 6:00..."

"No, Fitzroy," Bianca screamed. "Don't you dare show your face in Auckland until Monday at the earliest." "Okay, you're the boss, Bianca. You'll doing great. Good day to you."

Bianca continued holding the phone to her ear and had her suspicion confirmed. She heard a feminine squeal of delight when Fitzroy said, "I'm not returning home till Monday early."

The bastard, Bianca scowled.

She cleared her messages. The one from Marty distressed her; if it hadn't worked out it wouldn't be Marty's fault. Gloria you conniving bitch, she gritted. It was 5:00 – if he was still out on the farm he'd have his phone with him. He'd resquested her to cancel the quest – thank goodness for that; she'd just read twenty-seven emails from women seeking a screening interview to meet her client. She called and his voice seemed to lift as she spoke to him, poor boy. When men are down they tend become vulnerable boys.

First thing Sunday morning Bianca went out and bought the Sunday newspapers running Kit's story. The pictures were highly embarrassing for the Government, Fitzroy, Kit and everyone who is disgusted by such goings-on. Reading the story dispassionately, Bianca thought it could have been a lost worse. The tut-tutting was quite light-hearted, no attempt at censorship. That would come from members of the Opposition on TV tonight. She turned to the editorials hoping Fitzroy's indiscretion would not have become editorial fodder; it hadn't. One editorial was about alleged global warming 'misreads', the other about the decline in public transportation throughout the country.

Bianca and Marty greeted happily in the fine morning on the very unattractive main highway strip village of Kume; they avoided touching. Once again she apologized for the disappointing outcome with Gloria and said there would be no charge for services. Out jutted his jaw and he said unless she promised to bill him authentically he was turning around and dropping her back at her vehicle, only a few hundred yards behind them. Bianca's sigh relaxed his jaw. She agreed to bill him – "authentically."

"That's it. You look lovely in tight clothes."

Ohmigod, I'm having an ego blush, she thought. Bianca categorized her blushes/embarrassments. The ego blush was the pits, it really embarrassed her.

"You look—um—woodsman-like."

He almost drove off the road grappling with that one but only replied thanks. He was dressed in brown stock-boots, thick loose trousers and a long-sleeved checked wool shirt, unbuttoned to the naval and the sleeves unbuttoned. She'd already noticed an Akubra (Stetson) on the back seat.

"Although it's warm in the open, it will be cool under the trees and undergrowth will tear at our clothes."

"These are heavy jeans – I don't have jodhpurs. I hope the undergrowth doesn't tear them off."

"I'll attempt to prevent that from happening," he grinned wolfishly and for the first time since she'd known him Bianca felt a heart flutter.

"Who do we have in the float – I only saw the rumps?"

"The big bay is my Beckett, he's eleven. Your black is Sheba and she's six with a beautiful temperament and is content to follow Beckett which makes it easy for us. If you're good and want a real ride I'll bring Savannah for you when we trek up Muriwai Beach one day. Beckett is nervous of Savannah, who's nine, knowing if I'm off my ride or Savannah gets someone right for her in the saddle she'll beat Beckett."

"You're just setting that up right now, you sneak; you think Savannah and I will top you and Beckett."

"Oh, if only I could be so clever," Marty muttered behind the safety of his dark glasses. He stared straight ahead but his neck turning red had been spotted.

"The forest is big, isn't it," she said. "I've never been in it but I know horses have to share it with racing cars, runners, motor-cross racers, recreational cyclists and orienteers."

"Yeah, it's divided into sectors so the separations contribute greatly to user safety but I warn you to always expect the unexpected – some idiot can roar at you in a car driving almost out of control – but at least you hear them coming. Mountain bikers create the worst hazard I find and I guess we to them if either of us ventures out of zone. Chances of colliding head-on with other horse riders are unlikely as we'll do a 10-mile ride that is a one-way ring. It's easy terrain so allowing a stop for lunch I aim to have you back in Kumeu by 2:00." To Bianca's delight when backed out of the float Sheba took an immediate interest in her. Soon they were riding through s plantation of eucalypts in the 36,000 acre forest on a well trodden track of sandy soil, sunlight shining through the quite open canopy. It was wonderful.

"This is rather easy-going for hardened trekkers."

Marty, in the lead, turned around and called there were a variety of forest tracks and trekkers had access to more difficult country as well as riding the 30-miles of Muriwai Beach. You ain't seen nothing yet – even in the forest there are open spaces and water flows to cross.

They left the track for a knoll where they had the lunch Bianca had placed into her saddle bags. A bottle of Kumeu Dry Red, egg sandwiches and slices of apple tart and coffee.

They lay after eating, heads almost touching. Marty said he'd been born and raised on a sheep and cattle station out of Taihape in the middle of the North Island. The family sold the farm and shifted to Auckland when he and his year younger sister were reaching the age of entering secondary school.

"You ride very well for a townie."

He was told by Bianca her mother, who'd been a noted horsewoman in France, enrolled her in a riding school when she was five; they were living in Napier at the time where she was born.

"Oh, riding since five. Look out Beckett; I sense trouble ahead for us and our assumed superiority." Marty took some of Bianca's hair in his hand and said how soft it was. Her heart did that flip again but the next thing she knew he was on his feet saying, "Come on lazy bones; let's clean up leaving no evidence that we've been here apart from our footprints. As a registered rider with guest, I'm obliged to be firm about this."

"Yes boss."

Late afternoon the bathed and conservatively dressed Bianca collected and indignant Kit from her home. "I called Fitzroy and he said you advised him to remain the day in Wellington."

"Yes, sorry."

"But he should have been here taking some of these abusive calls I've been receiving."

"That is one viewpoint. How many calls did you take from the media?"

"Eight to ten I suppose."

"Did any insist on coming out to interview you when they found Fitzroy was not at home?"

"No, but they—oh, I get the point, no Fitzroy, not story."

"Quite. In Wellington this would only rate as a request by one, two at the most, journalists phoning for a one-paragraph quote. It's a non-event down in the capital if someone under the rank of an undersecretary has been a naughty boy or girl. The only surprise would be that Fitzroy is apparently able to keep two women happy."

"You're very cynical Bianca, but I daresay you are correct."

Bianca asked would her lawyer be meeting them.

"No, after reading the story I thought the stupid picture of that bored looking dog turned the whole thing into a bit of a farce but no so for high ground moralists. What was you read?"

"Exactly the same. Kit, here's how I want you to act – I mean displaying body language. I want to you reply to questions in this manner that I'm about to outline including refusing absolutely to condemn Fitzroy. Just imagine Fitzroy is going to the guillotine unless you convince the Préfet de Police that he's innocent."

"Oh, how artful; I'm not likely to forget that nonsense when under pressure, am I?"

At the newspaper Kit and Bianca were taken to an interview room by a reporter, Jessica Talbot. Asked if she had any objection to the interview being recorded and the chief of staff sitting in, Kit said no.

Jessica: What was your reaction when you learned of this disgraceful exhibition of lust by your husband?

Kit: I'm unaware that it was overly lustful but I was devastated and the woman involved is my best friend.

Jessica: A double blow then. Kit: That's a reasonable assumption.

Jessica: Are you seeking a divorce?

Kit (taking her time to dab an eye with a handkerchief): Why?

Jessica: Because you have been so wrong, betrayed in fact.

Kit: That's a bit of an over-reaction for this the first straying by Fitzroy that I've known about.

Jessica: There have been others?

Kit: Not that I know about.

Jessica: I see. May I ask are you two very close?

Kit: For a couple who have been married for eighteen years I'd say very close.

Jessica: Then why have you kept your maiden name – your are known as Kit Hughson, not Kit Herbert."

Kit: I liked Hughson a little better than Herbert so stayed with it. A number of women – academics and the like – tend to do this. I guess it's associated with intellect.

Jessica: Give me an example of a woman of note who has done this?

Kit: A woman New Zealand Prime Minister.

Jessica: Oh, of course. Well, is there anything you'd like to say?

Kit: Yes, I feel it's necessary to state publicly that I'm sticking by my man. Like many politicians he's under stress from over-work and in an uncharacteristic moment of weakness he just yielded to temptation. He had been working in the garden. I was at the supermarket. My friend arrived and greeted him as usual with a kiss and the kiss apparently was a very long one and they both got carried away. I forgive her also; both have apologized to me. That's all I wish to say. I thank the 'Herald' for allowing me to publicly state my position. To the people of our Electorate I say my husband, their Member of Parliament, has been a naughty man, but no more that that. I ask them to overlook this lapse by Fitzroy."

Jessica: Thank you, Kit. I admire your strength in being able to handle this unfortunate affair with dignity. Miss White obviously has coached you very well.

As they walked away from the interview room, Kit suggested they go for a drink and on to dinner – "My shout. I'm not an expert on this by any means, Bianca, but my feeling is you've done a wonderful job at damage control."

"Thank you, Kit. I accept your invitation. Let's drop my car off and we'll go to Harborside Restaurant and you can go home by cab."

Bianca picked up a 'Herald' from a news-stand just along from her apartment building at 5:30 next morning. A beautiful photo of Kit wiping a tear from her eye covered a big slab at the bottom of the front page. The over-line read:

'Kit: Tut-tut Fitzroy, But I Forgive'

Beside the photo was a tight, well-written story and included Kit's message to the people of Fitzroy's electorate.

An hour later Fitzroy called, bubbling with energy. "I called on you to rescue me Bianca, and you've done a grand job. Bloodly amazing really. The 'Dominion' ran the 'Herald's' photo and part of the story on page 3. I was surprised they bothered but Kit's photo and those lovely words influence them. I know those were your words, but so what? This thing is now being swept under the carpet. I'll call you about taking you out to dinner one night. Come down to Wellington; I'll pay your return fare. We can do it overnight –um—dinner I mean."