Mandy's Camping Weekend

Who on earth would be ringing me at 1:30 in the morning, I groaned while picking up the phone from the night stand.

I recognized my wife's phone number on the screen. Before I could say a word, I heard a sob from the other end.

"Can you hear me Daddy?"

My anger dissipated in a flash.

"Sure Pumpkin. What's up?"

"I'm all wet and cold, Daddy."

"How come?"

"My sleeping bag is wet 'cos there's a puddle on the floor in the tent."

"Can't Mummy help you get dry?"

"Mummy isn't here."

"Why isn't she there. It's the middle of the night. Do you know where she is?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Well, where is she?"

"She tucked Mikey and me in after our barbecue dinner and went over to Uncle Dave's tent."

"Why didn't you go and get her?"

"She told us to stay in our tent, no matter what. She said she would be very angry if she was disturbed."

My blood pressure was rising.

Dave Murdock married my wife's sister. He was a sleazy son-of-a-bitch who was always making inappropriate remarks to my wife and touching her when he thought I wasn't looking.

A week ago my wife Mandy suggested we head to our favourite camp ground about two hours out of town in the foothills, a beautiful spot that we visited three or four times a year. Her sister Sue and husband Dave had agreed to join us.

I am an architect, working mainly on high priced homes, individually designed for select customers. I don't advertise -- my reputation is well established from word-of-mouth referrals and I have enough projects coming up to keep me busy for at least the next two years. We live in a three level home in a leafy suburb in the outer metropolitan area. My design studio occupies the top floor.

We were due to leave home after the kids finished school on Friday. It was a two hour drive to the campsite so we would have plenty of time to set up camp before darkness set in.

The day before, a panicked builder who had worked with me on many project homes phoned about a problem with the roof design of the house we were building. Although the roof structure had been checked and signed off by a structural engineer, his gut told him that the design was flawed and would fail in extreme weather conditions.

After re-checking my drawings I had serious doubts too and agreed to meet the builder on site on Friday morning. It was obvious that it would take more than a few hours to re-work the plans so I phoned Mandy, explained the problem and suggested she take the kids in her car so I could join them some time on Saturday. She was surprisingly agreeable so I was able to concentrate on correcting my error.

Which brings us to the phone call on Friday night -- or rather, Saturday morning.

"OK Pumpkin," I said gently, quelling my anger. "Is your brother there?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Is his sleeping bag dry?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Is Mummy's sleeping bag there?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Is it dry?"

"Yes."

"OK -- here's what I want you to do. I want you and Mikey to pack your clothes into your carry bags. You climb into your mother's sleeping bag and stay in the dry part of the tent. I will leave here right now and come straight to your tent. Is it in the usual place in the campground?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Alright. Now pack up, go to sleep and I'll wake you up when I get there. Goodnight Pumpkin."

"Goodnight Daddy."

With virtually no traffic on the roads, I cut out the two hour trip in a little over an hour and a half, easily spotting our bright orange tent somewhere close to our usual spot. The reason for water ingress was obvious. My wife had pitched the tent on sloping ground and the lower side was nestled in a three inch deep puddle.

Quietly bringing the car to a stop alongside, I opened the tent flap. The beam of my flashlight captured my two angels sound asleep, snuggled up against each other on the high side of the tent, their packed bags side by side next to their sleeping bags.

They responded a little groggily from being awakened but I gently placed both of them in the back of the car, still wrapped in their sleeping bags, and threw their carry bags on the front passenger seat.

I recognized Dave's tent 50 or so metres away, his car parked a couple of steps in front of the entry. Quietly approaching the tent, I reached down and with a great sweep, drew the entry zip completely open, immediately shining my flashlight inside. Captured in the bright beam was my brother-in-law Dave, with the two sisters lying one on either side of him. It looked as if they had opened up two sleeping bags, using one to lie on and the other as a cover. Dave reacted instantly.

"Get the fuck out of our tent you perving arsehole," he yelled.

I held the flashlight beam steady.

Flinging back the cover, he exposed both women, fully naked, scrambled to his feet and charged at me. Holding the flashlight as steady as possible, I stepped to one side. Instead of head butting an intruder, he continued his rush out of the tent. My workboot lashed out at his lower legs as he flew by eliciting a howl of pain and sending him headlong into his own car door. With a groan he dropped like a stone into the wet earth and suddenly it was very still. Swinging the flashlight beam back into the tent, I noticed that both women had tried to cover up and were cowering in fear.

Finally breaking my silence, I suggested that Dave might need some help out here and to my wife:

"You can keep the tent darling, since you won't be coming home any time soon. I'm taking the kids."

"NO!" she screamed. "You can't do this to me. It isn't what it looks like."

She was yelling at my back though, as I purposefully strode back to the car, fired it up and started to turn. The kids, awakened by the noise, both sat up and looked out of the car windows as lights were switched on in surrounding tents.

"Daddy!" called Mikey. "Why is Mummy running over here with no clothes on?"

As my headlights swept across her she froze, shielding her eyes from the bright lights.

"I don't know Mikey. Maybe we can ask her some time. Now lie down and go back to sleep."

EPILOGUE

My dear brother-in-law did not fare well. A bone in his leg was broken and he suffered a concussion as a result of head butting his car door. My hopes that he would try to sue me for assault were dashed. He did not report the incident at all.

My legal advisor is a great friend and astute commercial negotiator but told me immediately that "family matters" -- their polite terminology for divorce -- is not his area of expertise. He did however refer me to an associate who had the reputation of being a tough operator.

After explaining the circumstances of the weekend I made it clear that I wanted custody of our two children, pointing out that any mother who could leave her children unattended in an open campground to further her own carnal aspirations was not a suitable person to have control of children. The lawyer's lips curled in eager anticipation of battle. It is not often that a father is given custody by the Family Court and he took it as a personal challenge.

The divorce was messy and dragged on for eighteen months before she finally conceded we were done. I put up no resistance to her request for visitation rights and the court agreed that since my work was primarily from home, that I would be a suitable custodial parent.

A funny thing happened at much the same time. Mandy's sister Sue divorced Dave. Dave did not contest and they were officially free of each other well before my own divorce was finalized. It seems that Sue was not a willing participant in the threesome with her husband and sister.

As for me, I'm not looking for another relationship. I love my two kids to bits and spend as much time with them as I can. Mandy initially came to visit several times a week, but then it dwindled to every couple of weeks and now we are lucky if we see her every couple of months. She complains that the kids are unkind towards her.

I date occasionally. Once intended to ask my ex wife to come and sit with them, but the kids vetoed that immediately, so the friendly old lady from down the road stays with them on those rare occasions when I go out. The kids think she's great.

At a bar with a friend on evening, a gentle tap on my shoulder turned me around.

"Hi stranger," Sue smiled at me.

We spent the next three hours bringing each other up to date on the past three years. My ex wife has decided that alcohol is the cure to all of her problems. She dates regularly but finds it hard to hang onto a man for long.

Sue dated rarely after her divorce from Dave. She was happy with her lot in life but her biggest regret was the failure to have a family.

"You are so lucky to have your two beautiful children," she said wistfully. I would love to look after them if ever you need a sitter."

"Mmm," I mused. "How would you like to come over tomorrow night for dinner. I'm not a great cook but my BBQ skills are sensational."

The two children were excited the following evening. They had not seen their aunt since that fateful weekend and were looking forward to her arrival.

The steaks were delicious and the fresh salad I bought earlier was perfect. I put the disappointed children to bed an hour or so after dinner was over. They could not get enough of their aunt and refused to leave her alone.

In the peaceful surroundings of the living room, I opened a new red wine from the Barossa Valley while we talked. I discovered that Dave had lusted over my wife since joining our family and was forever trying to convince Sue to persuade her sister to make up a threesome. At the campground he made his own overtures and convinced my ex that I would never know. He told Sue often that he had married the wrong sister. The camp incident was the final straw.

Sue moved closer to me and placed an arm over my shoulder. We kissed tentatively.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," I ventured.

"Neither am I but I'm not going to my grave wondering."

My shy sister in law turned and before I realized it, we were passionately making out.

"Let's take this upstairs," she suggested.

We did. She stayed. Perhaps I too, married the wrong sister, but I plan on correcting that as soon as I can.