The Case of Barbara Lombardi

By Virginia Close

The Case of Barbara Lombardi is an exciting and intriguing romance, mystery and thriller that depicts life after the separation—the suffering, the grief and the laments.
‘…Committing infidelity is the same as hitting a woman.’
Barbara Lombardi found herself in a situation much beyond what she bargained for, utterly beyond grasp. Her cyberspace love affair will bring her to the legendary city of Paris.
A matter of the heart with the lost passion coming back, making her world eclipse over and over again…
And the persistence of her ex-husband to win her back. To prove his love, he proposes to marry her again. But she declines. However, one of Barbara’s clients asks to be represented in a murder case. Working with the former partner is the last thing on her mind…
The mystery along the way—treacherous and deceiving.
A few more lives are in grave danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781528909075

Virginia Close

Virginia Close is a poet and writer of Filipino descent living in Australia. She was a graduate of mass communication from Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila. She trained at Communication Foundation for Asia and at Intercontinental Broadcasting Corporation. In her early twenties, she moved to Australia. Her many travels around the world became an inspiration in her writing. She began to write since childhood and rediscovered her first love—Creative Writing—in her fifties with a particular interest in mystery, drama, love, relationship and discovering oneself. Virginia’s book also brings out the insightful perspective of a migrant in Australia.

Book preview

Lombardi

About the Author

Virginia Close is a writer and poet of Filipino descent, living in Australia. She was a graduate with Bachelor’s Degree in Mass Communication from Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila, Manila, Philippines. She trained at Communication Foundation for Asia and at Intercontinental Broadcasting Corporation.

In her early twenties, she moved to Australia. Her many travels around the world became an inspiration in her writing. Now in her fifties, she is taking the time rediscovering her first love – creative writing with a particular interest in mystery, drama, love, relationship and discovering oneself. Virginia’s book also brings out the insightful perspective of a migrant in Australia.

Dedication

To Michael Wilson and Juliette Vernet.

Copyright Information ©

Virginia Close (2018)

The right of Virginia Close to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781786935458 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781786935465 (E-Book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2018)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgements

To Austin Macauley Publishing Ltd for believing in me, thank you.

I also wish to thank my family and friends for their encouragement; my children Victoria Close and Vincent G Close, my mother Teresita Tabuzo, my sister Belen Dameglio, my brother Virgilio Tabuzo, my nieces Toni-Marie Dameglio, Kristina Dameglio, and Vera Tabuzo, my nephew Venson Tabuzo, my brother-in-law Gino Dameglio, my sister-in-law Cora Tabuzo and my dearest friends Michael Gillean, Edna Gancia, and Evelyn Quinn.

Chapter 1

Barbara Angela Lombardi

All rise! the court clerk announced.

A middle-aged lady, Magistrate Louise Manning, appeared, went straight to her portal and sat down. The courtroom was jam-packed; people were waiting for the Law Lord to read the cases. Barbara Angela Lombardi, a Family Law solicitor, sat anxiously in the first chair. The courtroom was a space that she had been in many times before. The woman of the law looked at her surroundings with a different mind-set and could not fathom the obscurity of the scene considering the many occasions she had been present. For the very first time she took notice of the structure of the chamber; modern with a neutral colour on the walls. Countless tables were side by side in between the many chairs and the magistrate. The atmosphere that she was accustomed to brought a grimace and a squirm. To her discontent, the awkwardness beneath her tailored suit writhed at the duty with embarrassment. Although Barbara wanted to cry, she repressed it and instead imagined what it would be like in the times of yore. The chair of the magistrate formed her imagination; the waywardness of the situation; the sight of the malicious people waiting for the Law Lord to utter the names of the petitioners and the respondents. At the brink of it all, Barbara directed her vision further into the chamber. The women wore long dresses with weary faces; the men camouflaged nicely in black suits with subdued semblances, like innocent boys reprimanded by parents. The whole politics of the situation; the dull and scary moments of the plot mixed with the guilt and shame. Illusory of the Victorian era, the hall was no way near the modern aeon ‒ a 19th-century building carried the epoch’s architecture, from the outside right through the very heart. The dreadful, disgusting sensations that creep to the softness of one’s central core; a delectable arena for provoking fear in each other; fighting between husband and wife; located at 300 William Street, in the Central Business District ‒ THE FAMILY LAW COURT BUILDING.

Albeit the Family Law Court was an almost everyday picture to the brilliant lawyer, her mind was on a different path – the past. The abstract illusion was the courtroom with Judge Manning sitting on the old mahogany chair; in front were files of paperwork. The antediluvian table in front of the judge carried the many secrets of various sad and gruesome happenstances. Barbara focused her eyes on the magistrate. She imagined Louise Manning changed into a dragon and spoke words in jargon and all of a sudden started to spit fire. Barbara stood frozen as the dragon’s blast furnace was about to swallow everyone; she wanted to run but her feet were glued to the ground.

A woman carrying a child behind burst into tears, and squealed like hell near Barbara’s earlobes. The solicitor came back to her senses. The authoritative look in the magistrate’s eyes made everyone silent. Louise Manning did not even utter a word. Barbara anticipated that the soul with authority would say, Silence! and use a gavel. But, in Barbara’s many years as a lawyer, she had never seen a magistrate use a ceremonial mallet. And she thought, Fuck, use your gavel. C’mon, hurry up. I want to pee. I want to get out of this shit fucking dungeon.

She glanced over her right shoulder and saw that another woman comforted the one who burst into tears. Dying to get out of the courtroom, her eyes centred on the magistrate again. However, she started to get fidgety and her gaze roamed like a surveillance camera. Not far from where Barbara was sitting was a uniformed police officer escorting a Caucasian man. He suddenly coughed and could not rest. The magistrate stopped talking again which made the cop hold his breath. Thenceforth, Barbara switched her eyes at every angle. There were children, men and women, lawyers and even policemen with various expressions on their faces. Some kids were sitting down on the floor. A boy was holding a balloon when all of a sudden he cried because the youngest sister snatched it from his hand. Another girl shouted when an older child did not want to give her the doll. The kids tackled each other whilst the mother pacified. The lawyers whom Barbara had seen in countless junctures seemed apprehensive, and two of them were sweating although the room was cold. A boy who appeared no more than nine years old sitting quietly with his mother quickly shouted and ran to his father. Magistrate Manning paused once again and banged the table with a gavel for the very first time and hollered like a mad dog, Shit! Fuck you all! I want this finished and done with! She pounded the desk with the wooden hammer repeatedly until it shattered and flew in the air. Virgin moment: Barbara saw a magistrate use the ceremonial mallet. Could it be that she really was in the court of the olden days? Am I going crazy?

Barbara thoroughly knew that the Family Law Court was not pleasant and could be a theatrical arena. It was one hour after Barbara’s case was heard; three in the afternoon, the eleventh day of August 2014 and the magistrate handed down the decree nisi. Barbara rattled upon hearing her name; she approached the bench. With no emotion, Barbara, the petitioner, accepted the divorce paper. Immediately, she glanced at the wretched and went back to her chair. She opened her bag and threw the white manuscript inside carelessly, put on her coat, picked up the briefcase and the bag. Her poker face could not be controlled; she burst into tears and immediately got out of the chamber. The petitioner, Barbara Angela Lombardi, perambulated straight through the corridor and hobbled absentmindedly. Quickly, she ran to the ladies’ room, mumbling and throwing her bag and briefcase to the floor and carried on swearing at her settlement whilst sitting on the throne; done. Like a tornado, she picked up her Hermès sack and LV briefcase and got out. She walked out in haste and tears. Instead of crossing the road to board bus 34 to go home, she took the tram that stopped in front of her. She got out of the tram on the second stop, the Botanical Garden. The beaming sun was up, although it was a cold afternoon, with the little precipitation showering on the misty and damp Melbourne. Barbara tottered along the brumous path unmindful of the rain. Her woollen coat absorbed the droplets of water from the sky. The despondency of heaven was prolonged. In spite of the cold and moist weather, the magnificent bed of flowers glistened to the sparkle of her soul. Sanguine, her spirit savoured the unique ambience ‒ the rain was drizzling and at the same time the sun was shining. The majestic surroundings pleasured her heart. After all, the gladness from the universe intervened. Thus, the freshening to the land nourished the flora and the fauna. In her solitude, she reminisced her once cloud nine. The younger version of Barbara had stepped this way many times. This was the very place that the divorcee and her ex-husband used to play around, like kids. Growing over her path of youth, the charisma in her hands slowly drifted away. Ergo, the saddened phase of perplexity started to ooze in her intellect. Gone were the days of the intense love of her life. The very scene; kisses and canoodles at the Botanical Garden flew away with the winter puffing of the wind. She also remembered the nearby park; the early walks with Andrew and the many afternoons strolling hand in hand on their way home.

Barbara continued to saunter and saw the wooden park bench ‒ a memoir. The divorcee and her ex-husband used to spend time sitting down enjoying the blissful afternoon on so many occasions. Grief-stricken, she took a seat, cuddling her expensive Hermès sack, pure leather that Andrew bought the last time that they went to Venice, Italy. The unabridged deluge of cyclone emanated in her verve and wept not only a river but the whole waterfalls of Niagara, teardrops flowing like a weir. The grieving divorcee, much worse than the bemoaning and weeping widow one can ever see. Thus, she thought that the universe placed her on a planet that was still unexplored by any human being. There was no answer to her question, why such a thing happened. It was the very first time since kicking out her ex-husband that she felt the acrimony; euphoria lamented but enmity endowed. The moment of solitude in the sphere where money can almost buy anything became the darkness of the non-congeniality to the movement of the strata. And she believed that even the sweetest nectar of the honey bee became the bitterest taste. Nothing, no nothing else, she could do about it. Gone, like a shooting star ‒ the love of her life.

As a committed family lawyer, Barbara somehow neglected her self-worth being a woman. Dealing with people’s misfortunes of married life, was an everyday saga; in every coterie, from the bourgeoisie to the grandee. Hence the thought of getting married did not cross her mind, let alone being a divorcee. But she got married and after fourteen years, it was Barbara ‒ the ex-wife.

Snivelling, the weeping divorcee opened her bag to get a tissue but took out the piece of paper instead; the decree nisi, just an hour ago, the court handed down. The dejected bond paper, she thought of crumpling to use in blowing her nose. She thought of tearing the certificate. What was the use of it? It just meant that Andrew was gone. It never occurred to her mind that she would be a divorcee at the age of forty. Barbara’s marriage to Andrew was a magnificent flight. As a professional couple, they acceded that children were not in their scheme; pleased to be just the two of them. They went on holidays around the world, bought many properties and those alone were more than enough for their relationship.

In progression to reflecting her life – a week ago, Barbara turned forty. Tremendously well-heeled and she could retire. Why so? Barbara made her fortune, not as a solicitor. She began to buy property investments since she started working and invested in stock markets; she got utterly lucky. Right place and indeed, correct timing.

Melbourne was Barbara’s native place and home; she had no intention of moving out of the heart of the magnificent central town ‒ regarded as the most liveable city in the world. Her parents were the gleam of migrants from the northern part of Italy, in the tiny area of Andorno, Piedmont province. As a young girl, Barbara was cultured by her mama and papa as an average Italian girl. A typical Italian boy was her parents’ dream for her to marry. However, the solicitor did not assimilate very well with the people of the same culture as her folks. Although she spoke the language, she refused to talk with her oldies in Italian and would always answer them in English. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like if she listened to her parents. Her Italian father was a perfect example of a devoted husband and her mother was the happiest wife Barbara knew. Would Barbara be a happy woman with plenty of children, working with an Italian man running their own business? Would she be like her mother who looked after the kids, then join her husband at work after finishing the household chores? She never thought that she would have this nightmare. Barbara’s parents owned a few businesses and wanted the daughter to run one of them. But Barbara did not have any intention of doing so. Educated in a girls’ school, the smart girl excelled in all disciplines, academically the brightest and the most talented among her peers. In a very short space of time, Barbara became a family lawyer. She became the most prominent figure in the world of family law court in Melbourne. In retrospect, Barbara became the ally of the rich and the famous who were divorcing and aiming to get big fat settlements. Unsheathe with all the caliginosity of fame, she became an egotistical prima donna inside the courtroom. Thenceforth, her mind went back to Andrew, once the love of her life. Andrew became Barbara’s world. The abiding passion of her yearning was forever noted when they were together, and the undying caress of her soul whenever they made love.

The sun was sinking very fast as Barbara sat down on the bench ‒ the glorious moment with Andrew remembered but she continued to cradle the lonesome moment without him. In her perplexity, it became the reality of the truth ‒ alone. In her mind, the fact that she was a divorcee became genuine. The path to recovery might be long. Her desolated heart’s convalescence might take the passage of hours, mandating that nothing was incurable in due time. How she wished to let the wound disappear in her heart to ease the vexation of her spirit. Barbara contemplated for quite some time, uncertain of the future. With burgeoned soul, she stood up and cried even more. The rain began to pour but the miserable human being started to walk unsteadily whilst the feel of the coldness of the wind blowing her beautiful face endured. She stopped for a moment, looked up at the sky and asked, why can’t I find it in my heart to forgive Andrew?

Barbara looked at her watch; nearly six o’clock in the evening. She had stayed at the Botanical Garden long enough. But it did not feel like going home. There was nothing to go back to; an empty house, an empty bed and everything seemed to be aimless. The solicitor decided to go to the exclusive club where she met Andrew. She wanted to feel the space where they had the first meeting. It was getting awfully dark and the lawyer did not care to walk alone. Since she got married to Andrew, they were never separated. Although the couple worked in different law firms, they went out of the house together, had lunch together and went home together. Such a misfortune that the two had parted ways. Everyone who knew the couple thought they were the most perfect partners except for Barbara’s family.

Half an hour later and after a bit of walking in the drizzling rain, the beautiful woman arrived at the swanky club, Papa’s Bar. Still in the state of disparagement with drenched woollen coat, Barbara went straight to the bar. May I have a bottle of Dom Pérignon, please?

Before the barmaid could answer, the manager, Mario approached and talked excitedly, My, oh my! Ms Lombardi, it is so nice to see you! What is the celebration? Your favourite champagne, of course, we always have it. You haven’t been visiting us? Where is your gorgeous husband? Shall I take your coat? The rain caught you!

Mario Giovanni was the owner of the joint; his father used to run the Papa’s Bar but retired two years ago. Mario, an Australian-born Italian, was enchanting, persuasive and full of fun. His parents also came from the northern part of Italy near the Swiss border. So his looks, more or less were not those of an average Italian man: more or less 180 centimetres in height and blondish. Ten years ago, he finished his Year Ten at school and worked in the Papa’s Bar since then. Early last year, he got married to an Australian-born Greek, Chari. Typically, Mario and Chari worked at the Papa’s Bar together and were also inseparable. But Mario’s wife gave birth two months ago, that made her stay home.

Barbara shyly smiled and removed her wet overcoat and said, Thanks, Mario. Amazing, my suit is not even wet, only my coat.

My wife has a spare jacket. You can use it! Bring it back whenever!

Mario took the woollen from the solicitor’s hands and brought it to the cloakroom. Barbara went to the toilet and freshened up. She came back to the bar and remained standing for the moment, her eyes roaming before asking the barmaid, Can I have a bottle of Dom Pérignon, please?

Mario came back and exclaimed, Of course, Ms Lombardi! I’ll get it myself. Is your husband coming? I so miss the two of you! Here is the jacket.

Thanks, Mario! I’m all good! I don’t need the jacket. By the way, Andrew and I are not together any more. Just got divorced, Barbara said reluctantly.

Oh! I’m sorry to hear that, Ms Lombardi! Mario replied sadly.

It’s okay. Just life. I’m not the first one and I’m sure that I’m not going to be the last.

Oh! Life. We have to make the most of our lives. Love at its best and never to regret! Mario said. He continued with a smile, I will get your favourite drink. I will be back shortly.

Oblivious of time and space, she sat down on the bar stool. Although the bar had been renovated a few times the furniture, like the chairs and table, were exactly the same. They were original antiques from the northern part of Italy. They were restored many times due to scratches and damage from customers. Maybe not the same chair, but it was the same spot she was sitting when Andrew approached with finesse; she remembered how they met. Hi! Miss… your bag just fell! the interesting man said, and started to gather up the things that had scattered all over the floor. Barbara stood up and helped the gentleman. They scuttled to pick up Barbara’s lipstick; their faces touched, and the two laughed like children. And the beginning of the everlasting love blossomed in no time. Barbara’s tears fell on her cheeks. Mario saw the lawyer crying, asked the barmaid to pass the tissue paper and handed it to the weeping woman. The venue was not busy with only a handful of customers. But they all stared at Barbara. Mario comforted the sad woman before opening the bottle. He exclaimed, This champagne will give you the best of luck, Ms Lombardi! and opened it, poured the champagne into the flute and gave it to Barbara. The solicitor stood up carrying the Bohemian glass and headed to the dimly lit corner and sat down, away from prying eyes. Mario put the bottle in the cooler, and followed bringing the container. He sat down for a moment whilst Barbara tried to compose herself, then left.

As of that moment, the thought of spending her time in the coming days was muddy. Never in her delusions did she imagine that she would be on the path of loneliness. Being with the attractive and delightful man whom she was so proud to call her husband for many years were the happiest days of her life. For Barbara, the money that she and her husband got from their work was more than enough to get by. Since she was young, the idea of the job of being a successful solicitor happened ‒ her focal point. She did not dream of having the most charming man in the world, but Andrew came right in, seamlessly twinkling. Barbara felt heavenly and decided to marry her inamorato; picture-perfect. Everything that happened in her life was like the roses and champagne that came with romance.

Although dolorous and misconfigured, her mind realised that she could move on, a celebration – freedom. As soon as the brilliant solicitor finished the champagne in the flute, the next one was dedicated: to my liberty. But then again, lacrimation, utterly uncontrollable: she sobbed like a teething baby. Whilst crying, she saluted the future, no mucking around, swilled the bubbly in no time; it was impressive. To the bright and blissful days ahead; optimism persisted in her gist. The boulevard to Rhapsody may be a long way away. Barbara took the white piece of paper from her bag, still crying. Of all the people, a lawyer who saw volumes of them already over the years, weeping? Seriously, the one I’m holding is different, it is my disunion of marriage. Alone in the dim corner, she took her phone and put on the torch holding the certificate of divorce; she read the piece of bond paper over and over again:

IN THE FEDERAL MAGISTRATES COURT

OF AUSTRALIA AT MELBOURNE

In the marriage between:

ANDREW WILLIAM BADE

(Husband)

And

BARBARA ANGELA LOMBARDI (Wife)

In relation to the marriage solemnised on the thirtieth day of April 2000 I certify that the decree nisi of dissolution of marriage made by the Court on the eleventh day of August 2014 became absolute on the twelfth day of September 2014.

It was signed and sealed by the Federal Magistrates Court of Australia.

As Barbara read her own misfortune, she poured the champagne into the flute with tears. She flashed at the hours of her life. In her lonely night, remembering her younger years eased the pain in her heart. But, she did not know what the future would bring. It was similar to gasping from the defiant pontoon in the pier with terrorizing cyclone. The cases that she won over time were innumerable, always adhering to what the clients desired. Before Andrew’s appearance, going to bars after winning the case was a typical occurrence. Finding men that her eyes fancied led to fulfilment; one-night stands, here and there. She did not have long-lasting affairs and did not intend to. For Barbara, being a solicitor was her baby, her husband and family. Love was the lingo that had never been revealed by any lexicon. Life ‒ a pinnacle of success.

Mario came back with a wholesome plate; cheeses, olives and a few other savouries and said nicely, This is our new house specialty, Ms Lombardi! Please try!

Thank you, Mario! and she tasted. This is so good, Mario! Really, Barbara did not feel like eating.

Thank you, my wife’s creation! the manager said and left.

In the moment of solitariness, Barbara suddenly thought about the chair she was sitting in and recollected someone that she met so long ago. She felt the strange and acerbic moment; goose bumps appeared on her arms mordantly before resting her rear when she remembered someone. Oh, fuck, is this the chair the bastard sat in when I saw him? Maybe not, but this is the same corner. That arsehole rooted me for six months, bloody hell! He had a grand time licking my pussy for freaking six months! Arsehole! That person was not her ex-husband. He was someone else; his name was Jim Heinrich, a handsome Australian man whom she thought was an everlasting arsehole. Even though his surname sounded German, Barbara did not ask where it came from. She had encountered many names at work and never questioned the origins. Barbara did not know much about Jim except he was in his last year of an engineering degree. The next day after their first encounter, she asked him to do a perspective of her dream house on a coaster. Jim did; he drew a proper plan when he went home. After two days, he showed it to Barbara but did not give it to her. Arsehole he was, all right, but the marvellous memory of Jim Heinrich made her smile and she thought what it would be like if the laddie had become her husband. Thus, her anguish petered out for a while. Jim was Grade A in bed for Barbara. It was a Friday afternoon when the two met; they were both in the same ritzy club of Melbourne when Jim approached, giving her a cocktail. Flattered, Barbara smiled but refused to accept the drink. Hence, the handsome laddie felt embarrassed and went back to the table with his mates. Then, big laughter followed. Barbara looked at them and felt uncomfortable and left with a friend. The next day, Barbara went back to the club and waited for her colleague; no show. She was about to go home when she noticed Jim sitting in the corner of the joint. Suddenly, she remembered and thought, This is the bloody chair that Jim was sitting on. Jim stood up and apologised for being fresh the day before. In her mind, I cannot forget your words, arsehole, I’m sorry for what happened yesterday. I did not mean to offend you. The truth, Barbara was elated, she said, All good! I wasn’t offended. Their chemistry was utterly flawless. Sexual attraction, initially eagle-eyed. In short, they had sex two to three times a week for six months. No other soul came in between them. Both looked forward to the days they were to meet, in the swanky drinking hole. Then, they would have something to eat. Soon enough they would be straight to Barbara’s apartment or hotel. However, it was a no-strings-attached relationship. Love was not in any shape or form in their programme – just swap of body fluids. They did not talk about the future. Mostly no words were spoken in bed, and Jim would leave after copulation.

After half a year of exchanges of sweat, Jim told Barbara that he would be away for six months. She did not ask him why and where. For her, it meant rooting was over. No big deal. Jim wanted her pussy; she desired his cock, it was even. Therefore, no bleeding heart and not a hint of regret. It was a solid six months in bed with the ever-gorgeous Jim and that was all. Super-duper it may be but her summation was he was a total fuckhead and an arsehole. Jim Heinrich mysteriously bubbled away in the air. Then she protruded her lips and thought, What a fuckin’ bastard! He bloody used me. Oh, well I had fun. Who cares if you disappear! Barbara’s sorrows were nothing like when she parted ways with Andrew.

After Jim had disappeared for a month, Barbara did not care to wait for him; he was forgotten. She thought that was not a relationship. It was just for fun scratching my itch and bone crushing. The second month, she found a one-night stand but he was not the same as Jim. He was far from Jim’s charisma and greatness in bed. Soon after, Barbara met another handsome dude, a well-known barrister at a very early age and a partner in Melbourne’s biggest law firm. Everything had changed in Barbara’s life. A gorgeous and valiant man, Andrew Bade, direct to the point: a rationale of good intention and not just for sex. Barbara and Andrew were bonded; they clicked and their souls entwined ‒ love at first sight. In pursuit of his maiden, Andrew offered marriage after going out every single day for four months. That was exactly six months after the mysterious man was gone like a bubble.

Barbara had a sip and remembered that Jim said that he would come back after six months. What a whole lot of bullshit. Men! Her mind went back to Andrew. Without shilly-shallying, the mistress of the court said her affirmation to the barrister’s abject submission. Then, without dallying, Barbara and Andrew exchanged vows after six months of being engaged. Although Barbara was married to Andrew, she retained her maiden name for business purposes.

Barbara’s percipience went back fifteen months ago ‒ the switching off. The solicitor’s tears fell down her cheeks, yet again. Barbara and Andrew’s marriage went sour. Ergo, her torment in purgatory commenced. Andrew met a younger version of her. Exactly one year after Barbara and her ex-husband parted ways, she applied for a divorce. And even after more than three hundred and sixty-five days passed by, she could vividly remember throwing her husband out of their domicile when she saw him with another woman coming out of the hotel room. Barbara was actually in the same guesthouse that day, seeing a client who was ashamed to go to the office because of nose surgery. The client still had the bandage on her face. After the flush matron had satisfactorily signed the papers, she walked out with the solicitor, thankful that she got loads of money. Just before the lift opened, Barbara saw her man, and a young lawyer; she knew her. The two came out of the room, still canoodling. Barbara just looked at her husband as she went inside the pulley. Without saying a word, Barbara smiled broadly at Andrew and the young chick as the elevator shut and went straight home. Andrew followed soon after and wanted to talk about it. Without carrying on with dramatic hullaballoo, Barbara elegantly asked him to get out of the house and not to come back. Then she called the locksmith. The week after, her investment property – the penthouse – was empty, and Barbara moved in. Two months passed. The betrayed lawyer had the property settlement drawn up and signed by her firm’s staff. Barbara and Andrew had a meeting before the settlement. The husband begged her to give him one last chance. However, the wife did not answer a word or a blink to Andrew’s proposal. Instead, with full composure, Barbara said, If you’re not satisfied with our property settlement, you can have them all. I’m out of your life. Andrew’s eyes went teary but he blindly agreed to the judicial separation. Albeit heartbroken, he continued to beg for many months, to the point that Barbara felt like moving out of Melbourne. Mighty as a rock, she did not forgive Andrew. The barrister did not want to give up though, sending flowers and gifts almost every day. Straight to the rubbish bin, was the brilliant lawyer’s reaction. Then one day, Barbara nicely told the courier, please don’t deliver flowers and presents any more. I won’t accept them in the future. Barbara wanted to give Andrew another chance. However, whenever she saw him, her anger was not even felt; no feelings at all. And she wondered how could she not forgive him? She even went to a counsellor and was told that it was okay to get angry. She could no longer touch the same intensity of love for Andrew after what had happened. Totally, she lost it and just could not find a reason. She wanted to give it a go but her heart was saying no. A friend told her once to fight for love. But Barbara knew that there was nothing to fight for.

The time that Barbara closed her door to Andrew, she was thirty-nine. But at that stage, she still had amiable charms and a magnificent natural body, perfection at its finest. It was unlikely that she would have trouble in finding anyone to replace Andrew. Whilst Barbara was drinking, a gentleman approached and asked, Hi, gorgeous! Are you okay? Do you come to this place often?

Barbara put down the flute, smiled and said, I’m sorry, I already have a fuck for tonight! You’re too late! He is in the toilet; checking his dick! and laughed. The man turned his back and Barbara heard what he said, Bitch! It was not the first time that a man approached her; the gorgeous woman shut that door too. Shoulders shrugged, it was her answer whenever someone wanted to pick her up. Gone were the days that she had done it ‒ now she was not interested at all, even for the sheer fun of sex. With Barbara’s unblemished face for her age and a body to die for, it would be trouble-free picking up men even ten years younger than her. Women’s bodies tend to shift in a different angle as they grow older; the natural flow, regardless whether one had given birth or not. However, even with the debacle in life, Barbara became extra seductive and alluring. It was incredible that her muscle tone and body features looked like early twenties, at most late twenties. Barbara seemed to grow older only in numbers but not in physical appearance. It could be the result of her ballet lessons from age four until sweet sixteen. Or perhaps, Barbara’s love for yoga that started after her dancing days.

The lonely woman’s mind went back and forth ‒ present ‒ past ‒ future. It was all over the universe in her solitary. Like jumping from one planetoid to the next meteor. To put her mind at ease, she started to think of her top priority ‒ to focus on her profession. In Barbara’s younger years, everyone predicted among relatives and friends that the world would be at her feet. It came true; the world revolved, axis to her constellation.

Although her clientele came from all parts of the spectrum, most of them were wealthy people; property settlement talks were muddied in a pristine ocean. She did not settle for less and would never do so. Having dealt with all sorts of problems where her world orbited, getting into a relationship after divorce was not on the agenda any more. It was marked and stamped, altogether with no doubt. Barbara thought that she was the goddess of mending broken relationships. She sure did, but not her own. Ironic! As a star of the Family Law Court and top notch in her job: to mend the broken hearts meant putting the lives back of her clients in a different perspective. Her intention was to get the best and the biggest slice of the cake for whoever she represented. Also, her investment properties soared in value, she had tons of them.

Barbara finished the bottle of champagne and decided to drink some more. She sought the attention of the waiter and ordered another one. It was no problem, the solicitor got what was needed, the fancy bottle of Dom Pérignon. The sobbing woman had drunk a glass when unwittingly she moved the container and the savoury plate near the edge of the table. She reached for the bottle but the whole ice bucket fell on the floor, with it the bottle. The good plate which she hardly touched also fell. The bottle and the plate were smashed into pieces that made a loud crash.

The staff rushed and cleaned up. Mario approached and asked, Are you all right?

I am sorry! Did not realise that I pushed the ice bucket.

Ms Lombardi, are you all right? he asked again and joined Barbara.

Yes, Mario, I’m okay. Please, I want to celebrate my freedom. Can I have another bottle, please? Last one!

All right! I’m just worried about you, Ms Lombardi.

Barbara, Mario. Please, call me Barbara.

Yes, Barbara, that will be your last bottle, he said nicely and left.

Barbara once again wept as soon as the manager turned his back. She went back, reminiscing over her happy days with Andrew. Mario came back and muttered, Barbara, we ran out of Dom Pérignon!

What about Krug Mesnil?

Oh! I will have a look if we still have it!

Please, Mario?

Mario left and came back bringing two kinds of Krug and showed to Barbara.

I’ll have the Clos du Mesnil 2003. I had that once before. Thank you, Mario!

You have an excellent taste in everything, Barbara! he said.

She saw the look on Mario’s face; scared. Please don’t worry. I know the law. Believe me, you are not pushing the Responsible Act for Liquor License. I am not intoxicated. I am celebrating my freedom. Please, don’t take it away from me. This will be the last bottle and I will go home, Barbara said with finesse. As if the elegant lady had not drunk a bottle of alcohol already and she could still talk sense.

The manager left and got a new ice bucket and a new Bohemian flute. He came back quickly and poured the bubbly, then sat down yet again to give Barbara some company. The solicitor was comforted and here and there smiled at the humour of the manager. Yet again, Barbara slurped the first glass. Mario poured the second time and left. Again, the solicitor reminisced on the once happy moments with Andrew and embraced the sadness of the scene. Still she was crying, and Mario came back bringing the tissues. He sat down again and gave the lawyer some company. Barbara was drinking the last drop of champagne when she noticed Andrew come in.

Andrew Bade was forty-one years old, six foot in height, masculine and swell. At his age, he could be mistaken for early thirties. He was well-mannered, cultured and had excellent taste in everything. The once Adonis of Barbara. His popularity with women did not diminish but was enhanced instead through the passing years. More often, when Barbara went to the gym to do her yoga, Andrew would be doing his fitness regime. His muscles were Barbara’s pride and joy. Sexwise, he was such a Hercules, vigorous and unyielding. It looked like he had dressed up for the occasion on a Monday night. He was wearing a red check long sleeved shirt, tucked in faded jeans with a dirty white blazer. Barbara looked at her watch, quarter past eleven. Where did he go before Papa’s Bar? Andrew was with a young chick, not the one seen at the hotel by the ex-wife. Barbara had the answer.

Oh! Shit! My ex is here with a different whore! she whispered.

Barbara, are you okay? Mario said nervously.

I’m all good, Mario. I think I have to go. Can I have the bill, please? I’m exhausted.

Sure, Barbara. I will get it now.

However, Andrew spotted the ex-wife as she was standing up; he approached and said, This is not what you think, babe!

I don’t really care what you do, Andrew. I told you, I am out of your life! Please, let me pass. I am going home, Barbara said elegantly.

I love you, baby. Please give me another chance. Just one and only chance, he whispered, stroking her hair.

Right, the ex-wife whispered back touching his ears with her soft lips.

I need to bring you home, baby, he continued to caress her slightly wet hair.

Don’t take my words as a compliment, handsome. I just asked the heavens not long ago why I can’t find it in my heart to forgive you. Leave me alone, please! the ex-wife stuttered right in his earlobe. I’m not flirting with you, sweet face. I’m celebrating my freedom, and she smelt his neck. Oh… you smell like shit! That is a cheap woman’s perfume, and retreated.

Andrew wrapped his arm around her, C’mon, baby, I’ll bring you home. I’ll make it all up to you. I love you so much!

Hmm, did you change your perfume? That smells disgusting, my sweet fuck! She retched and ran heading to the bathroom. She sensed that Andrew was following but a woman hollered. Barbara did not turn about, went straight to the toilet cubicle, threw her bag and the briefcase on the floor; then, vomited incredibly; a sordid sensation. After gagging, she pushed the flush, put the cover down and sat down crying.

Ms Lombardi, are you okay? a woman said.

Yes, I am! Who are you?

Bar staff, ma’am! Mario asked me to check on you!

Can you please bring the bill here? I don’t want to see my ex! and she came out of the cubicle.

It is all right, Ms Lombardi, he’s gone!

Barbara picked up her bag and briefcase, and washed her face.

Your ex-husband left. The woman with him made a big scene. Mario had to pacify her. She was uncontrollable!

Oh! Barbara muttered. She felt relieved and came out with the staff.

Mario was waiting outside. He said, Barbara, are you okay? I’m sorry! I am really sorry! The woman with your ex is a pig. I was about to call the police. Bloody hell! What a psycho! Andrew left but she bloody ran to him swearing. I can’t believe it!

Oh! I’m sorry, Mario!

Don’t be. That woman is mad!

Barbara did not comment. She walked with Mario to the counter and paid.

Barbara, I’ll bring you home. Just in case your ex and that stupid woman are still outside. My car is parked at the back.

Oh! Thank you, Mario. I don’t want to trouble you!

It is no worries at all, Barbara. Papa said that you are the best customer of this venue! And I have the duty of care! Responsible Service for Alcohol.

Thank you! By the way, how is your father nowadays, Mario?

He is fine. Papa and Mama are in Italy. They stay there for six months and six months here. They are very happy. Mario left and came back quickly bringing a plastic bag with Barbara’s coat inside and a jacket in his hand. He said, Please, wear this, Barbara. It’s cold outside.

Thanks, Mario! I’ll bring it back soon! she said, putting down her bag and briefcase on the chair and putting on the jacket. The two went out and headed to the car. For the second time, the lawyer pondered about Italian men. Another great Italian husband was Mario’s father. Soon enough, the lady of the court was home, by midnight.

Although Barbara had a fair bit to drink, she did not feel woozy. She got in the penthouse,