‘It was good of you to call, Patrick,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you did.’
Annabel had a quick lunch with the Chocoholics owner, and told him to call her when he returned from the US. Then she ran back to the office and started drafting a strategy to land the biggest account of her life.
‘Drop what you’re doing. We have a husband-hunting emergency.’
Clementine had called Daniela early on Saturday morning in a flap. Annabel had somehow gotten herself into the situation of having to cook a meal for a man she was interested in, paying no regard to the fact that she didn’t know how to cook.
‘This is our first big seduction mission,’ said Clem.
‘But Annabel can’t cook.’
‘I know. That’s why we’re going to give her a cooking lesson.’
‘I’ve seen her kitchen. We’d have more luck if we gave her a magic lesson.’
‘Perhaps she could buy something and put it on her own plates?’
‘For the love of Clive Owen, are you mad?’ Daniela said, hoping her ma would never find out she had a friend who would even suggest such a thing. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll hit the markets and help her plan something. Who’s the guy?’
‘It’s Harry Barchester.’
‘What?’ She hadn’t expected that. ‘Mirabella’s Harry Barchester?’
‘The single and decidedly eligible Harry Barchester. We were at Mirabella’s wedding, remember?’
‘I’ll be right over.’
They raided Clementine’s perfect, alphabetised shelves for recipe books, then picked up Annabel and headed for the fish markets.
‘I’ve been studying recipes all week,’ Annabel said. ‘He called this morning and invited himself around next Saturday, but all I’ve been able to master is eggs and toast.’
‘Was there anything in particular you had in mind?’ Dani asked Annabel as they walked up and down the stalls. Fishmongers in rubber aprons were slapping down large pink salmon and slicing through tuna with silver cleavers. Orange and red crab shells glistened on snowy beds of ice.
‘Barramundi is easy. Or you could do a stew with white fish.’ Dani pointed out possible purchases while Annabel ate calamari rings from a paper bag.
‘I don’t know,’ she said looking at dead-eyed eels with open mouths. ‘It’s so hard to imagine it on a tasty bed of rice when it’s looking at me.’
‘I think this is very promising,’ said Clem. ‘Mirabella was never right for Harry. Wouldn’t it be funny if after all these years you ended up with the first boy who ever kissed you? And he loves kids. He wouldn’t be a teacher if he didn’t.’
‘We need to go out again,’ Daniela said to Clementine. ‘Round one of husband-hunting hasn’t worked out quite like I’d hoped.’
Instead of answering, Clementine made a non-committal noise and put one of Annabel’s calamari rings in her mouth.
‘What about Firefly in Neutral Bay on the North Shore?’ Annabel suggested. ‘You need to cast your net further than the city.’ She bent to look at a tank full of sea snails.
‘No, I don’t go to the North Shore,’ Clementine said decisively.
‘I grew up in the North Shore! What’s wrong with it?’ cried Annabel.
‘There’s nothing wrong with the North Shore.’
She explained that The Big Three lived there. The three big loves of her life. The ones that got away.
‘Two of them I dated for two years each. One I nearly married. Then there was Nathan. We were together for only five months, but I really thought he was the one for me. He moved to Silicon Valley, and when he returned three years later he had a girlfriend. She’s Californian. Her name is Ryder, and Melanie Sissowitz reports that she wears fur and that her cleavage could also be described as Silicon Valley. Somehow they all ended up living on the North Shore; two of them with their new wives. And while it was very considerate of them to corral themselves into one small, avoidable part of the city, I simply cannot step into that part of town without hyperventilating.’
‘Fair enough,’ Dani said. ‘The North Shore’s out.’
‘What about Oxford Street?’ Clem said.
Daniela looked at her. ‘You did remember to write “heterosexual” on your list of requirements for a husband, didn’t you?’
‘There are still some decent husband-hunting spots around there. Shady Pines. The Commons. Pocket Bar.’
A woman with an infant strapped to her chest like a marsupial walked past.
‘I babysat my nephews on the weekend,’ said Clementine, looking at the child. ‘We made gingerbread men, then we built a fort in my lounge room. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.’
They wandered to the next stall.
‘Oysters?’ Clementine said. ‘The reason they have a reputation as an aphrodisiac is because they have a high level of amino acids that increase the production of testosterone and progesterone.’
‘I’ve never liked oysters.’ Annabel shook her hazy curls.
The woman with the baby stopped near them. He was sleeping. His little head was resting against his mother’s chest. His legs dangled from the bottom of the baby carrier like a marionette’s.
Thoughts of the children she and James could have popped unbidden into Daniela’s head. That’s the problem with an infatuation, she thought. It’s like your mind has been invaded.
‘Maybe we should focus on foods with arousing properties,’ said Clementine. ‘Like chocolate. The phenethylamine is supposed to be a mood elevator. Emperor Montezuma used to drink fifty cups of cocoa a day so that he had the sexual stamina to satisfy his harem of women.’
‘Chocolate marinara?’ Dani screwed up her nose.
‘What about prawns?’ said Annabel. ‘I think I could handle prawns. As long as they’re de-veined first.’
Clementine nodded. ‘Chilli prawns, not garlic. The capsaicin in the chillies will put a little fire in his belly.’
They bought half a kilo and headed for their next stop: the bottle shop.
‘You’ve got to have something in your liquor cabinet to offer them,’ Dani said, echoing her pa’s business philosophy. ‘We should all get a bottle of something. It has to be something exotic. You can’t say “Would you like to come up for a vodka?”, particularly if you’re at a bar or restaurant, because you can get it there. But if you say “I’ve got a lovely bottle of pinot noir from the Sonoma County in California, or a rare Amaretto my uncle bought back from Italy—” ’
‘I want to share it with someone who’ll appreciate it,’ Annabel cut in.
‘Yes,’ said Clementine. ‘Invite them up for a drink and then send them on their way. He’ll be desperate to see you again.’
‘How did you manage to line up a date with Harry Barchester anyway?’ Dani asked.
‘He called me out of the blue,’ said Annabel airily.
‘Just out of nowhere?’
‘Yes. Pretty unbelievable, isn’t it?’
‘It is, I suppose. When was the last time you two were in contact? I’m surprised he would have your mobile number.’
‘Oh, he called my home. Melanie gave him the number.’
Harry Barchester, like Jason Ceravic, was a real trophy of a man, for women who wanted that sort of thing. Athletic, intelligent, classically handsome. Dani looked at Annabel sideways.
Her clothes were covered in symbols for brands Daniela recognised but didn’t know. Her earlobes were adorned by a pair of diamond-encrusted C’s sitting back to back, and her jacket was cut in the pointy-shouldered way Dani had seen pictured on the front of fashion magazines at the supermarket. Her handbag was stamped with the word
Lanvin
. Everything looked like it was being worn for the first time.
‘What is it?’ Annabel asked. ‘Why are you looking at me?’ She pulled out a gold mirror. ‘Is there something on my face?’
‘No. It’s nothing. Just, are you sure you want to get involved with Harry Barchester? He used to be married to Mirabella.’
Annabel sighed. ‘I know. But I always liked Harry. When we were younger I thought I was the one he belonged to. And now that he’s come back into my life, I have to see if there’s something there.’
Daniela felt a twinge of guilt for questioning her. She knew all too well what Annabel meant.
They each bought a couple of bottles of wine, then piled into Dani’s Peugeot. There was only one parking space in Annabel’s building so they had to circle the block.
‘Why are there no parks?’ Clem bit her lip.
‘It’s never like this,’ Annabel said, when they eventually found a space a few streets away.
Then they saw why. A crowd was gathered out the front of a pretty, double-fronted Victorian home. A real estate agency’s flag fluttered in the breeze. There was a sign on the footpath advertising an auction.
‘Shall we go and have a look?’ Daniela asked.
Annabel held up her icy bag of prawns. ‘If we’re quick.’
It was an unusually wide block for this part of town. The house’s features were Victorian, but they had been freshened with masonry work and expensive paint so that it looked newer than it was. The owner had knocked skylights into the roof, which filled the interior of the house with light. It bounced off the honey-coloured floorboards and lemon-hued walls. The windows were dressed with beautiful bunched-up Venetian curtains made from fine cotton that let light in through the large street-facing windows.
‘Not bad,’ Dani said, picturing her photograph of the Golden Gate bridge in the hallway. If it were her place, she thought, she would have wallpapered it; something light and subtle in a pattern that matched the ceiling roses and architraves.
‘What’s the reserve?’ she asked the estate agent.
‘One point seven.’
Daniela nodded and didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the type of place she was expecting to buy. She could probably only afford the broom cupboard of a place like this.
‘We could all pitch in and buy ourselves a little husband-hunting sorority house,’ said Clementine, turning a dimmer.
The estate agent herded everyone out onto the front lawn. The bidding was about to begin.
‘Let’s go,’ Dani said. ‘I have a feeling the auction result will depress us.’
They walked to Annabel’s place and showed her how to marinate prawns and how to tell when they were cooked. Then Clementine whipped egg whites and caster sugar into a meringue mix.
‘Feel it,’ she said, dipping a finger into the foamy batter. ‘Rub it between your forefinger and your thumb. The sugar should be completely dissolved. You want it to be perfect. By cooking him a meal, you’re showing him what a competent mate you would be. The ideal partner to protect his progeny.’
‘Try and work that phrase into the conversation,’ Dani said. ‘Men love it when you talk dirty.’
‘Very funny,’ said Clementine. ‘But this is important. You’ve managed to net a potential future partner. You don’t want to leave it to chance and romance. What’s the plan for the evening?’
‘More strategising?’ Annabel creased her brow. ‘What about chemistry?’
‘Chemistry happens in a lab.’ Clem added some sugar to her meringue. ‘You have to create the right conditions.’
‘Okay,’ Annabel said. ‘Well, at work, once we’ve secured a meeting with a client, we pitch.’
‘Right,’ said Clementine. ‘And what does that involve?’
‘You present a case for why you are the best person to do the job for the client. You have to show them you understand their needs and how to fill them.’
‘But in my work you have to keep in mind what you are able to offer,’ Daniela said. ‘For example, we have no industrial expertise; only residential. So we wouldn’t waste time chasing a contract to build a factory. Marriage is the same. We’re not selling something. We’re building something.’
Clementine was nodding as she whipped cream. ‘When a new client comes to me, I know nothing about them. I get them to spend the first session telling me everything about themselves. Their hopes. Their fears. Their achievements and disappointments. That can be your mission with Harry on your first date. Find out what he needs.’
‘Understanding the client,’ Annabel nodded. ‘Got it.’
That night, inspired by Annabel’s culinary, adventure Daniela decided to cook herself a feast. She made a pasta dish Gia had taught her when she was little, using ground pork and ricotta cheese. There was enough food to feed her entire family, so after washing up she divided it into Tupperware containers and put them in the freezer.
On Monday morning she grabbed a container to take for lunch. Then she took out an extra container for James, thinking they could take their lunch down to the lake behind the building site. It was dull and sludgy with run-off from the excavating work, but there was a bench on a patch of grass that was quite pleasant.
When she opened the door to her office he was inside, bent over her desk.
‘Sorry,’ he said. There were drawings spread out over the work Dani had left open on Friday night. ‘Briggs let me in — we need the papers from the top three floors. Emerson spilled iced tea on our copies.’
‘That’s okay. Actually I’ve got something for you.’
‘Oh yeah? You’re very cheery this morning. Dating going well, is it?’
Mannaggia.
She forgot she had told him about that. The second beer they had shared the other night had loosened her tongue. After the barman had kicked them out, James had walked her back to her car. Ambling slowly in the cold they had drawn close together, sheltering each other from the wind. James cleared his throat and said he had been thinking a lot lately about how nice it would be to start a family.
‘I look at my little niece and my bro and his wife, and think: they’re just so happy.’
Daniela could taste panic in the back of her throat. James had always dated in the past, but never with any intent of giving up his laddish lifestyle.
‘Really?’ she said, trying to steady her voice while picturing the future Mrs James walking alongside them, in an apron over a pink dress and lipstick in a colour that matched. Suddenly she was jabbering about how awful the dating scene was. It was half to discourage him with scenes of emotional carnage on the romantic frontline, half an attempt to make him jealous.
‘Of course it’s not that I have trouble finding people to date, it’s just there’s nobody out there who I’d want to spend my life with.’
She sounded
pazza
! Crazy!
‘So, no plans to find someone and settle down yourself?’ he asked as they walked on.
‘It’s not that, it’s just — well — there’s nobody to do it with.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he nodded.