The Adulterer's Daughter: A Novel Read online

  “Not really.”

  “It might help.”

  “Okay, if I must. I had one when I was halfway through a mitral valve repair at the hospital; one when I hit a superb eagle at the eighteenth hole last week at the golf club, despite the windy conditions; one in the bath when Serena was out jogging; another one when …”

  Serena interrupted. “He got very hard when I dressed up as a schoolgirl.”

  “The doctor doesn’t need to hear about that, darling.”

  Raising his eyebrows, the GP said, “I certainly do. So you were together?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you had an erection?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Did you manage penetration?”

  “We certainly did. He was as big and rigid as I’ve ever known.”

  “Thanks, babe.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “And did you climax?”

  “God, yes! Twice.”

  “I was talking to Eric.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s marvellous. Well done, both of you.”

  “Cheers, doc.”

  “This sounds like a real breakthrough. How have things been since then?”

  “Things?”

  “Have you managed to have penetrative sex subsequently?”

  “Nearly.”

  “Nearly?”

  “We came close in the bath that time,” said Serena.

  “Not that close. To be honest, doctor, in spite of the changes to my diet and my new fitness regime, I’m not really managing to produce the erections I was hoping for. Might it be time we moved to the next level?”

  “The next level?”

  “Chemical intervention. I believe you mentioned Sildenafil citrate the last time we came.”

  “That’s right. I told you about all the many, many side effects, didn’t I? You might get headaches, nosebleeds, ...”

  “I’ll risk it,” Eric interrupted.

  “But you ought to consider the stomach problems and …”

  “He said he’ll risk it!” It was Serena’s turn to interrupt. “Just let us have a prescription and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “I have to warn you,” said the doctor, “the effects of each dose of Sildenafil will last only a few hours.”

  “A few hours, babe.” Serena grabbed Eric’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “What are we waiting for?”

  “A fucking prescription.”

  “There’s no need to swear, Mrs McDougal. I’m writing as quickly as I can.”

  “No, I meant as in ‘a prescription to fuck’.”

  “Oh, I see. Here you are then.”

  The doctor went to hand the green piece of paper to Eric, but Serena snatched it from his grasp.

  “I’ll take that.” She studied it. “What does this wavy line mean?”

  “That says thirty-two 50mg tablets of Sildenafil.”

  “No, the squiggle here.” She showed him again.

  “Yes. Thirty-two 50mg of Sildenafil. It’s as clear as day.”

  “And this doodle of two spiders wrestling?” She pointed.

  “That’s my signature.”

  “Are you sure the pharmacist is going to be able to read this?”

  “Just ask for Mrs Hewson. She can read anything.”

  ◆◆◆

  Eric parked the car by the village green and slouched down in his seat. “In you go, then.” He reached over to the glove compartment, located a baseball cap, and pulled it low over his face. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Babe?”

  “Yes, hun.”

  “Why have you stopped here? Why didn’t you park in front of the pharmacy? It’s only a hundred yards further up the lane.”

  “If it’s only a hundred yards, it won’t take you long to walk there. Besides, the exercise will do you good.”

  “I ran ten kilometres before breakfast. I don’t think another hundred yards is going to make me any fitter.”

  “Every little helps. Now, on your way.”

  “Why do I have to go? It’s your prescription. Why don’t you go yourself?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Serena, I am a highly respected member of the community. Many’s the time I’ve heard one old biddy whisper to another old biddy, ‘That’s Eric McDougal, Ethel. He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon at the hospital, you know.’ And the other old biddy has replied, ‘Ooh, I know, Ethel. He’s a highly respected member of the community, dear.’”

  “They’re both called Ethel?”

  “All old biddies are called Ethel. It’s a well-known fact. So, you see, a highly respected member of the community, such as myself, can hardly be seen sneaking into the pharmacy to pick up medicine to treat his erectile dysfunction now, can he? Who’s going to respect a cardiothoracic surgeon who can’t maintain a decent erection? I’d be a laughing stock. Pretty soon they’d all be calling me Doctor Limpdick.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, you don’t want the whole village to know about the highly defective member of the highly respected member of the community?”

  “In a nutshell, yes.”

  “You’re embarrassed?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why don’t you walk proudly into the pharmacy and ask, in your loudest voice, for their biggest crate of extra-large condoms? Meanwhile, you could slip the prescription to the pharmacist on the sly. I’m sure they'll be very discreet.”

  “That’s a good idea. Or, how about, I stay here and hide in the car, and you pop in and pick up the prescription? And, while you’re at it, do the thing with the extra-large condoms. It won’t hurt my reputation for the wife of highly respected cardiothoracic surgeon Eric McDougal to be seen picking up a crate of extra-large condoms.”

  “Unless people think I’m having an affair and they’re for me to use with my well-hung secret lover.”

  Eric laughed. “You’re funny.”

  Serena climbed out of the car thinking, You have no idea.

  ◆◆◆

  “Mrs Hewson?”

  “That’s me, love. How can I help you?”

  “I was hoping you could fill this prescription for me.” Serena handed her precious slip of paper to the bespectacled octogenarian who glanced at it for less than three milliseconds.

  “Thirty-two Sildenafil for the lady, Bert,” she called, before lowering her voice, winking and whispering conspiratorially, “Someone’s going to get lucky tonight. My Bert started taking these things when he turned ninety, and we haven’t looked back since. Twice a night sometimes. The man’s insatiable. Still, I’m not complaining. It’s good to keep active in the bedroom, isn’t it, love? My friend Ethel hasn’t had sexual relations with her Albert since 1987. I keep telling her to get him some of these magic pills, but Albert isn’t interested. ‘Slip a couple into his cottage pie,’ I said to her. That ought to put some lead in his pencil. But she won’t do it. Ooh, thanks, Bert. I was just telling this nice lady about Ethel and Albert. Such a shame. I said these magic pills have worked wonders for us, haven’t they, dear?”

  “Huh?”

  “Turn your hearing aids up, Bert.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said, ‘Turn your hearing aids up!’ He’s as deaf as a post without them, I swear to God.”

  “Sorry, Ethel. Try again.”

  “These magic pills have worked wonders for us, haven’t they?”

  “Oh, yes. We’re at it like rabbits, night and day. Ethel can’t get enough of me, can you, shnookums?”

  “Whatever you say, dear. You can toddle off now.”

  Ethel Hewson turned back to her customer and braced herself against the counter in preparation for the resounding thwack on the backside she was about to receive from her husband before he toddled off.

  “Ooh, Bert, you are incorrigible,” she giggled and readjusted herself. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Make sure your husband takes one of these – just one mind –
approximately an hour before you want to have sexual relations. That will give you a window of between thirty minutes and four hours in which …,” she glanced at the prescription, “... in which Mr McDougal will be able to maintain an erection. Hey, is that Eric McDougal, the highly respected cardiothoracic surgeon who works at the hospital? He operated on my uncle’s brother’s wife – Ethel – after her heart attack. She died, unfortunately. But I’m sure it wasn’t because of your husband’s limp dick. Anyway, tell Mr McDougal that these pills won’t work unless he’s sexually excited. You might be able to help with that, love.” She attempted a wink, but both eyes closed simultaneously. “Well, I’d better not keep you any longer; there’s quite a queue behind you already, and you probably want to get right down to it, don’t you?”

  Serena dropped some cash onto the counter, snatched the packet out of Mrs Hewson’s hand, and sprinted for the door.

  “Wait, Mrs McDougal. Don’t you want a bag for your boner pills?”

  But she was gone.

  ◆◆◆

  Serena jogged back to the car and lowered herself into the passenger seat.

  “Got them?” said Eric from under his cap. He had also acquired some dark glasses, despite the fading light.

  “Yep.”

  “Any problems?”

  “Nope.”

  “How was Mrs Hewson?”

  “She’s a lovely old lady. Rather chatty, but so helpful and friendly.”

  “Did you happen to catch her first name?”

  “Huh?”

  “What’s her first name?”

  “Kylie.”

  “Kylie?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Eric chuckled. “It’s Ethel, isn’t it?”

  “Would you like to talk about this now or shall we go home and fuck?”

  Eric started the engine.

  Chapter 55

  Friday 21 November, 2003

  Fairfax bedroom, 10:35 p.m.

  That night in bed Mia was keen for a cuddle but suspected it might evolve into sex, and she didn’t feel like having sex. After a tough week at work – fire-fighting the multiple infernos started by Wayne Smith – she was exhausted, fractious and she hadn’t shaved her legs for four days: the perfect antidote to libido.

  Ollie was only on page fifteen of his new book, and he was feeling stressed already. “Bloody hell!”

  “What are you reading?” Mia asked.

  “The Emperor Of All Maladies by Siddhartha Mukherjee.”

  “What is it? Fantasy? Science fiction?”

  “It’s about cancer.”

  “Ah, the fourth astrological sign in the Zodiac,” said Mia, crossing her fingers.

  “No, cancer. The disease that’s going to kill me any day now. I’ve barely finished the prologue, and I’ve already diagnosed myself with leukaemia, Hodgkin’s disease and lung cancer.”

  “Why the fuck are you reading it then?”

  “Because it’s better to be informed than ignorant. Don’t you agree?”

  “No. There must be at least two hundred different types of cancer out there, and you aren’t going to get almost all of them. Hopefully, you won’t get any at all. Why freak yourself out by studying all the agonising ways you won’t die?”

  “Maybe, if I’m better informed, I’ll be able to spot the symptoms and catch it early. The earlier the diagnosis, the better the prognosis, as they say.”

  “They don’t say that.”

  “Well, they should. It’s a catchy slogan. Also, reading this will help me decide on the best treatment for my cancer.”

  “You haven’t got cancer. You’ll probably never get cancer. You’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing. Can’t you just enjoy your life while you’re healthy?”

  “I am enjoying my life. I take pleasure wherever I can find it.”

  “You do? I hadn’t noticed.”

  That’s because I’m very careful, thought Ollie as he turned another page and read on. “Jesus Christ, I reckon I’ve got this too!”

  ◆◆◆

  McDougal bedroom, 10:35 p.m.

  “Again? We were at it all yesterday evening and most of the night.”

  “You seemed to be having a good time.”

  “I was, but surely we ought to pace ourselves. I don’t want to overdose on Sildenafil. What would the guys at the hospital say if I couldn’t operate because of a permanent boner?”

  “I suspect they’d be envious.”

  “Can’t I have a day off to recover?”

  “But I’m ovulating at the moment. This is the optimum time for us to make love if I’m going to get pregnant.”

  “You’re wearing me out, babe. I need to be match-fit for the game tomorrow.”

  “You do realise you’re not actually playing, don’t you?”

  “I’m supporting my national team. They need me to be fresh and alert.”

  “Please, Eric,” Serena purred. “I want a go on Mummy’s Best Friend.” She put a finger in her mouth and coquettishly swung her hips from side to side. “I’ll dress up in that special outfit you like.”

  That did it. “Oh, all right. I’ll pop to the bathroom and take a pill.”

  “No need. I’ve got one here.” Serena opened her hand to reveal a tiny, rhomboidal blue tablet. “Just in case.”

  ◆◆◆

  O’Connor bedroom, 10:35 p.m.

  “Who are you texting?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Who are you texting?”

  “Just a sec. There; all done.” Steve switched off his phone and secured it in the bedside drawer.

  “Well?”

  “I just sent one to Ava,” he said truthfully.

  “She’s in the next room.”

  “So? I can wish my daughter goodnight by text message, can’t I?”

  “Of course. So why the inane grin?”

  “What grin?”

  “You were grinning while you were typing.”

  “Jesus Christ, woman! Aren’t I allowed to smile anymore?”

  “Why are you snapping at me?”

  “Because you’re always complaining. ‘Don’t smile.’ ‘Don’t leave the toilet seat up.’ ‘Don’t pursue tracking devices all over the country.’ Why don’t you want me to be happy?”

  “I do.” Fiona put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, Steve? What’s this all about?”

  Steve placed his hand over hers and opened his mouth to answer, then changed his mind. “I’m just tired. Let’s get some sleep. It’s a big day tomorrow.” He rolled away from her, and turned out the light.

  Chapter 56

  Saturday 22 November, 2003

  McDougal living room, 9:03 a.m.

  “Who are you rooting for in the final, old chap?”

  “Mate, I’m an Australian Stumpy Tail Cattle dog. Who do you think I’m rooting for?”

  “The Wallabies?”

  “Of course. I’ll tell you something. I wouldn’t mind sniffing that Stephen Larkham’s butt.”

  “Good luck with that. He’s taller than he looks on the telly.”

  “What are you insinuating?”

  “Nothing. How many are you up to now?”

  “Butts sniffed? Sixty-two thousand, four hundred and eight. I’m hoping to make it to a nice round hundred thousand before I kick the old water bowl, and head off to the great lamp post in the sky.”

  “What? You’ve got many, many years ahead of you, old chum. It wouldn’t surprise me if you make it to a million bottoms savoured.”

  “I’ll do my best. Is it my imagination or do our owners have particularly whiffy bums this morning?”

  “I was just thinking the same.”

  “Do you think we should say something?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know … ‘Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof!’ Or something along those lines.”

  “It’s worth a try, I guess.”

  “Be quiet, Stumpy,” Eric snapped.

  Fiona took her s
eat. “Someone’s grumpy this morning.”

  “Not grumpy, just tired.”

  “Aren’t you sleeping?”

  “No, I was up most of the night.” Eric’s eyes met Serena’s, and she surreptitiously blew him a kiss.

  “Sorry to hear that, mate,” said Ollie.

  “Oh, I don’t mind.” Eric smiled at Serena. “Right, places everyone. It’s nearly time for kick-off.”

  09:07 Kick-off of the 2003 Rugby Union World Cup final.

  England 0 - 0 Australia

  +6 minutes: Try.

  Ollie: “Oh, for fuck’s sake, we’re losing already! Jason Robinson might have lovely eyes, but he’s not tall enough to deal with cross-field kicks.”

  Fiona: “Ollie!”

  Ollie: “Well, it’s true.”

  Serena (whispered to Mia): “He might not be very tall, but I bet he’s got a big thick cock.”

  England 0 - 5 Australia

  +7 minutes: Missed conversion.

  Eric: “It’s hit the post.”

  Steve: “Did it go in?”

  Eric: “No, it bounced back on our side. Those two wasted points could be crucial.”

  +11 minutes: Penalty.

  Ollie: “He’s over the top, ref. Penalty, surely. Yes!”

  Eric: “It’s fifty yards out.”

  Steve: “Don’t worry. Johnny’s got this.”

  England 3 - 5 Australia

  +15 minutes:

  Serena: “I love your earrings, Fiona. Are they new?”

  Fiona: “Yes, Steve bought them for me.”

  Eric: “Were you wearing them last week?”

  Fiona: “No, he gave them to me on Monday.”

  Eric: “Take them off quick!”

  Fiona: “Why?”

  Eric: “They’re affecting our luck. Take them off now.”

  +20 minutes: Penalty.

  Eric: “Did you see that? Larkham just tackled a man without the ball.”

  Stumpy: “Did somebody mention Stephen Larkham?”

  Lord: “Sorry, old chap, I missed it. I was just having a quick nap.

  Ollie: “It looks like he’s hurt himself. That’s going to need stitches.”

  Steve: “Good.”

  England 6 - 5 Australia