inevitably primed for sexual encounter, which Claire was mostly happy to provide, if not matching his passion.
This time his talk was all of one horse, a filly he’d picked up for ‘two point two mill’ — a way of talking she’d never got used to, not in relation to money, which she and her frugally minded family had never expected to have.
Riley’s family were business-minded but he was driven. He found her father, a safer-than-safe chartered accountant in the Lower Hunter city of Maitland, infuriatingly risk-averse. ‘His glass is always half empty. It’s a beautiful day and Clive Jennings will say, “Ah yes, but it never lasts as long as you think.”’
Claire not of her father’s negative outlook but didn’t have a materialistic bone in her body. When Riley insisted she must be money conscious or she would not have been such a valuable asset in the broodmare and now stud business, she countered, ‘I did it for you, for the family.’
Informed her husband — as if he didn’t know — ‘Naturally I prefer a life where paying the bills is not an issue. Who wouldn’t? I just don’t hanker after high fashion and material possessions. And, don’t forget, Ilove horses almost as much as you do.’
Claire’s real heart was in her kids. Riley getting snipped had not been what she wanted: her dream was four or five children growing up running around this place, enjoying the special experience of dealing with creatures of enormous physical strength and volatile temperament. A form of educational advantage in itself; farm life but with more interesting and challenging stock.
But Riley said he couldn’t afford the time to devote to more children, so that was it. ‘Besides,’ he joked, ‘it makes for a worry-free sex life.’ She reminded him the contraceptive pill had been doing that for Western women forty-odd years.
Presumably he was content enough with her in that area, given they were still happily married, and anyway he worked such long hours. Hardly energy for much of that. And not as if she very often opted out with the headache excuse. Her mother had raised three daughters on the ways of the world where a man was concerned, his simple needs and how easy to satisfy them. Though Claire did wonder if her husband’s profession hadn’t been influential. For he certainly had a strong sexual appetite. Today was yet more evidence of that.
Hardly home and sexually satisfied than Riley, with Straw, was off to meet a trainer down the road — no doubt to brag, in a casual way, of his expensive purchase. Not stopping long enough for Claire to pose her question of why he had purchased a two-million-plus horse to include just one daughter in its name.
What about our other daughter, Katie?
Wasn’t long before Claire forgot the horse: Sue Dellabarca, her self-proclaimed sex-maniac friend, turned up for a drink courtesy of the Dellabarca family winemaking business, Fig Shade. Riley would be out for several hours, and in his absence several glasses of Fig Shade started going to Claire’s head. She downed half a jug of iced water to sober up.
How had Riley got on in New Zealand? Sue wanted to know. Claire gave her usual vague answer as Riley didn’t like even Claire’s closest friends knowing his business, private man that he was — some would say secretive.
‘Funny, a three-hour flight away, New Zealand, yet never had the inclination to go there,’ Sue said. ‘Dunno why. Hearing men make cracks about a nation of sheep shaggers, I guess.’ Which did evoke alaugh from Claire, probably the wine.
Katie’s loud stereo intruded from an impossible distance, down a very lengthy stretch of passage and round a corner to the girls’ wing. Hip-hop. Gangsta rap they called it. Katie listened to it obsessively. An entirely different creature to her older sister, Anna, and not like either of her parents. Katie was wilful, sulky, volatile, even had a slightly dark side.
‘Sit down,’ Sue stopped Claire from
This time his talk was all of one horse, a filly he’d picked up for ‘two point two mill’ — a way of talking she’d never got used to, not in relation to money, which she and her frugally minded family had never expected to have.
Riley’s family were business-minded but he was driven. He found her father, a safer-than-safe chartered accountant in the Lower Hunter city of Maitland, infuriatingly risk-averse. ‘His glass is always half empty. It’s a beautiful day and Clive Jennings will say, “Ah yes, but it never lasts as long as you think.”’
Claire not of her father’s negative outlook but didn’t have a materialistic bone in her body. When Riley insisted she must be money conscious or she would not have been such a valuable asset in the broodmare and now stud business, she countered, ‘I did it for you, for the family.’
Informed her husband — as if he didn’t know — ‘Naturally I prefer a life where paying the bills is not an issue. Who wouldn’t? I just don’t hanker after high fashion and material possessions. And, don’t forget, Ilove horses almost as much as you do.’
Claire’s real heart was in her kids. Riley getting snipped had not been what she wanted: her dream was four or five children growing up running around this place, enjoying the special experience of dealing with creatures of enormous physical strength and volatile temperament. A form of educational advantage in itself; farm life but with more interesting and challenging stock.
But Riley said he couldn’t afford the time to devote to more children, so that was it. ‘Besides,’ he joked, ‘it makes for a worry-free sex life.’ She reminded him the contraceptive pill had been doing that for Western women forty-odd years.
Presumably he was content enough with her in that area, given they were still happily married, and anyway he worked such long hours. Hardly energy for much of that. And not as if she very often opted out with the headache excuse. Her mother had raised three daughters on the ways of the world where a man was concerned, his simple needs and how easy to satisfy them. Though Claire did wonder if her husband’s profession hadn’t been influential. For he certainly had a strong sexual appetite. Today was yet more evidence of that.
Hardly home and sexually satisfied than Riley, with Straw, was off to meet a trainer down the road — no doubt to brag, in a casual way, of his expensive purchase. Not stopping long enough for Claire to pose her question of why he had purchased a two-million-plus horse to include just one daughter in its name.
What about our other daughter, Katie?
Wasn’t long before Claire forgot the horse: Sue Dellabarca, her self-proclaimed sex-maniac friend, turned up for a drink courtesy of the Dellabarca family winemaking business, Fig Shade. Riley would be out for several hours, and in his absence several glasses of Fig Shade started going to Claire’s head. She downed half a jug of iced water to sober up.
How had Riley got on in New Zealand? Sue wanted to know. Claire gave her usual vague answer as Riley didn’t like even Claire’s closest friends knowing his business, private man that he was — some would say secretive.
‘Funny, a three-hour flight away, New Zealand, yet never had the inclination to go there,’ Sue said. ‘Dunno why. Hearing men make cracks about a nation of sheep shaggers, I guess.’ Which did evoke alaugh from Claire, probably the wine.
Katie’s loud stereo intruded from an impossible distance, down a very lengthy stretch of passage and round a corner to the girls’ wing. Hip-hop. Gangsta rap they called it. Katie listened to it obsessively. An entirely different creature to her older sister, Anna, and not like either of her parents. Katie was wilful, sulky, volatile, even had a slightly dark side.
‘Sit down,’ Sue stopped Claire from
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