‘He’s conscious.’
The hacker’s unsolicited update revealed that Nathan Deakin, the young man Corrine had spent so much time fretting over, was awake. Another message appeared seconds later, this time containing a screengrab of medical notes. She was unfamiliar with many of the terms but the words ‘no permanent cognitive damage’ stood out.
‘Thank God,’ she whispered.
Corrine wondered what he remembered about that night and the danger she had put him in. She hoped he could forgive her. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and continued what she had been doing before the message appeared – typing an inventory into her tablet. That morning she had worked her way from room to room of the family home, noting what she planned to take with her when she and Mitchell were divorced.
Many of the larger items like tables and chairs, dressers and wardrobes she would leave with him but some of the electricals, the artwork and soft furnishings she wanted for herself. The decor was grand and styling had been a collaboration with Jada, an interior designer she had been recommended by friends. Back then, Corrine had wanted the very best to earn their validation. But having witnessed the dark side of the Marriage Act, she was ashamed to have been that person.
She and Mitchell had yet to discuss in detail how and when they would inform the children of their decision to separate. She assumed their eldest daughter Freya would take little convincing – she was the most perceptive of the three and had stopped being a daddy’s girl when she was old enough to see how miserable her father made those around him. Corrine couldn’t be as sure as to Nora and Spencer’s reactions. For an inexplicable reason, they appeared to enjoy his company.
Her watch chimed and she looked to the screen. The front door camera captured two women and a man carrying boxes. ‘Hello,’ she said into the microphone, ‘can I help you?’
‘We’re here to install the Audites,’ the man replied.
‘Audites?’ she repeated. ‘I think you have the wrong address.’
‘Mr and Mrs Nelson, one-four-seven Dallington Gardens?’
‘Yes. But we’re not part of the Marriage Act.’
Mitchell appeared and walked directly towards the door, opening it.
‘Come in,’ he said as the three visitors, all dressed in overalls, entered. ‘You’ll have to excuse my wife, she’s a bit scatty sometimes. You can put the main one in the kitchen-diner and the others wherever you like. There’s also a summerhouse outside.’
‘Mitchell, what the hell are you doing?’ asked a confused Corrine.
He let out a long, theatrical sigh. ‘I’ve thought about it long and hard, Corrine, and I’ve decided that divorce is not on my radar.’
‘Oh,you’vedecided that, have you?’ Corrine laughed.
‘Uhuh. I’ve been re-reading the morality clause in my ongoing Government contracts and considering my reputation. I can’t be seen to be separating from my wife when the Government is so pro-marriage, can I? Perhaps we can take another look at it in a year or two.’
‘A year or two? I don’t think so. We have an agreement. I’ve already stayed with you far longer than I should have. We’ve already signed documents to start the proceedings.’
‘Ahh, about those papers. You didn’t read them properly, did you?’
An uneasiness crept into the room and made its way towards her. ‘You know I didn’t. You said they were formalities when you shoved the iPad under my nose. I was on my way out.’
‘The one thing I’ve always loved about you is how trusting you are. It’s quite endearing, really it is. And useful.’
‘What have you done, Mitchell?’
‘It’s less about what I’ve done and more about what you’ve agreed to. If you’d opened and read them instead of just signing the screen with your finger, you’d have seen that we were actually divorced six months ago.’
Corrine paused as her mouth formed an O shape. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘One of the documents you signed was to divorce us, the second was to apply for a Smart Marriage and the third was to sign our new contract. In a few days from now the grace period will be over and the random recordings will begin.’
‘You’re lying. You wouldn’t have done that.’
He made a helpless gesture with his hands. ‘I’m afraid I did. You can look at the documents yourself. I’ve gone old school and printed them out and left them on your bedside cabinet for some night-time reading.’
A panicked Corrine ran through the house and up the stairs until she reached her bedroom. There, where he said they’d be, were dozens of sheets of paper secured in a binder. Sticky labels highlighted and confirmed what he had just informed her. Bile rose up into her throat.
‘Why would you do that to me?’ she yelled as she returned to the kitchen.
‘It’s nothing personal, it’s business. There are clauses that suggest it’s in my best interest for us to remain in a partnership. And if you knew the sums I’ve invested in my projects, you wouldn’t be arguing with me.’
