Clementine laughed.
‘I’d love to take you out again,’ Rex said. ‘This time I’ll give you my number too so we don’t have this problem.’
Clementine was just about to tap her digits into his Blackberry when Christophe blocked her hand.
‘You know she’s married, don’t you?’
Clementine seemed to shrink. Rex looked at her. One of the fingers holding his Blackberry was ringed in silver.
‘Is this true?’ Rex asked her.
‘Um …’ Clementine looked at Dani and Christophe.
‘Unbelievable!’ Rex snatched his Blackberry from her. ‘All the good ones are married.’ He stormed off. Christophe shook his head, drained his glass and left, too.
Despite trudging to two more bars — including trying their luck again at The Establishment — it was an unsuccessful night. Dani knew why: she was needy, and they could smell it on her. This was never going to work. She needed someone she already knew.
For a week she racked her brain, trying to recall which had been her least disastrous breakups or her most good-natured exes. There had been that nice orthodontist who had kept her crock-pot. He owed her. Was a three-year-old crock-pot worthy of a favour of this magnitude? Probably not. She gave up and called Clementine.
‘Will you be my plus-one for Emerson’s engagement party on Saturday?’ Dani asked.
‘Finally,’ Clem said, ‘somebody I actually like asks me out. But be warned, I don’t put out on the first date.’
‘I know you think there’s a higher chance I’ll propose if you don’t sleep with me straight away, but I’ve got to warn you: I don’t like your chances.’
Clem laughed. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight.’
The party was at Emerson’s home in Arncliffe. Dani spent the drive over staring out the window and trying to suppress the sickly anxiety in her stomach. She fiddled with the ribbon on the gift-wrapped fondue set in her lap.
Clementine reached out and stilled her hand.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
‘I have to,’ Dani said, determined.
Emerson greeted Dani and Clem at the door, took the present and passed them a glass of sparkling each. There were plastic engagement rings in the flutes.
‘Nice touch,’ Dani said.
His hair was slicked back and he wore an open-collared shirt. She barely recognised him as the workplace miscreant, until he rolled his eyes.
‘Those rings cost $4 each, but Cassie insisted.’
They followed him through to the lounge room, which was full of unfamiliar faces. Daniela’s eyes darted from person to person, searching for James. He wasn’t there. She and Clem quickly visited the kitchen to pay their respects to the bride, who was being fawned over by a brace of girlfriends, before finding a corner that gave them a view of the room.
‘What do you think? Any potential targets?’ Dani asked Clementine.
‘No, this room has already been worked over. Look.’
Everybody was standing two by two. It was like Noah’s Ark. Each couple had distinctive markings. Some wore matching wedding bands. A man and a woman who were fiddling with Emerson’s iPod both had the sunbaked skin that suggested a recent overseas holiday. Another couple had the tell-tale signs of being new parents: the baggy eyes, rumpled clothes, the weary glow of pride, the slight odour of talc and baby sick. Daniela kept her eye on the door.
At 10pm Emerson gave a speech. Then his fiancée brought out a cake that was decorated to look like a bride and a groom. After they cut it, the older guests — parents and parents’ friends — started to leave.
‘Perhaps he’s not coming,’ said Clementine.
There was a whoop from the backyard where guests were gathered around a chiminea. Through the glass doors they saw Emerson skolling beer from a lead-crystal vase his fiancée had just unwrapped.
‘Remind me why we’re so desperate to get married,’ said Clementine.
Dani turned back to the party and clutched Clem’s arm.
‘He’s here.’
At first it was just his hair that she could see. But then the crowd parted a little and his smile broke through the faces. Dani’s heart thumped. In front of him, Abbey was looking around the room wide-eyed. His hand was on her waist, gently guiding her through the throngs of people. Dani felt her blood was thickening in the manner of the coagulation that follows severe poisoning. Abbey called out to her. The interiors consultant’s blonde hair was hanging loosely, and she was wearing a flowing, knee-length dress. She looked friendly and — Daniela hated to admit it — attractive.
‘Daniela, so nice to see you!’ Abbey bounded over and kissed her.
James followed. Dani’s fists were clenched so tight she feared she’d crush her own bones into powder. He bent down and gave Dani a kiss near the lips, then he shook Clem’s hand, saying of course he remembered her. They stood speechless for a moment.
‘I should find Emerson,’ James announced, leaving Abbey with Daniela and Clementine.
‘We need more drinks,’ Abbey said gaily, collecting three glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.
Daniela drained hers while Clementine made small talk. Dani desperately wanted Abbey to leave, but it was obvious she didn’t know anybody else at the party. She looked out into the backyard where James was talking to the few guys from the site. Briggs saw her and raised his hand in a wave. Dani waved back, forcing a smile. Toby and Mark made their way inside. When they arrived, Abbey transformed.
‘About time you came to say hello,’ she said, flicking her hair.
‘I didn’t know you all knew each other,’ Dani was halfway through the sentence when she realised James would have invited Abbey along to the pub after work one night. The thought made her wild with jealousy.
‘Oh, we go way back, don’t we, boys?’ Abbey playfully shoved each of them.
‘I think I’ll go and get a piece of cake,’ Dani said.
She barged towards the kitchen, seeking solace and a sugar hit. She cut a large piece of the bride part of cake. Clementine followed a moment later.
‘This party has become a microcosm of our lives,’ Clem said. ‘All of the interesting, attractive men have been ushered away by their wives and girlfriends, and the remaining two are being circled by a pack of single women. Look.’
The bachelors were Emerson’s cousin and a man who worked at an accounting firm with the future Mrs Emerson. They were both being tugged onto the dance floor by a pack of women.
‘Here.’ Dani cut Clementine some cake. ‘Eat some bride.’
Dani took another slice of the cake and bit greedily into it. Clementine took another piece, too. Halfway through, she gave a cavernous yawn.
‘You should go — you’ve had a big week,’ Dani said. ‘He’s here now. I’ll be okay.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, yes.’
Clem hesitated. Her eyes were red from sleepless nights. ‘Okay. But call me if you want me to come back and pick you up.’
Dani nodded and hugged her goodbye.
‘Thanks for doing this tonight.’
‘Of course,’ Clem smiled and was gone.
Dani was reaching for more cake when she bashed into the back of someone tall.
‘I’m sorry—’
‘Daniela?’
It was Nicky Mangione, the man who talked about jar sterilisation and had never called after their one husband-hunting date.
Mannaggia.
She hadn’t thought this night could have got any worse. ‘Nicky,’ she said. ‘Looks like we got that second date after all.’ She tried to sound playful, but the words came out sour.
‘I meant to call. I’ve just been so busy …’
‘Obviously,’ she said, nodding at the glass of wine in his hands. Again, she had aimed for nonchalance but hit on vinegary.
Nicky looked embarrassed. Daniela adopted a pragmatic stance.
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘A courtesy call would have been nice, is all.’
Nicky looked away. ‘I told you, I’ve had a lot on.’
Daniela realised this was a good opportunity for an exit interview. She could get some feedback.
‘Nicky, come on,’ she said calmly. ‘I obviously did something that stopped you calling for a second date. Why don’t you tell me what it was so I don’t do it in the future?’
‘Daniela …’ He looked at his hands.
‘It’s okay, you can say it.’ She wanted to hear that she had been over-eager, or that she had talked with her mouth full. She needed something she could go on; some trait or habit that she could eliminate.
‘I really don’t want—’
‘Nicky, I can handle it.’
‘There’s really nothing—’
‘I work with men all day: you’re not going to burn my sensitive ears.’
‘It’s not that—’
‘Just say it.’
‘Alright,’ he snapped. ‘You weren’t hot enough.’
Daniela was stunned. She looked at him; a man almost physically identical to her. He had the same brown eyes and the same Italian nose. His widow’s peak was pronounced, as was hers. She was trying to think of something clever to say, but she was speechless.
‘Sorry,’ Nicky shrugged, and left the kitchen.
Dani was fuming. She looked out to the backyard where James was standing, and figured that she may as well do what she had been dreading, since everything was already catastrophic. She drank one more glass of champagne and pushed her way out into the yard where James was.
‘Jensen, I have to ask you something.’
‘Yes?’
She looked around. ‘It’s, ah — it’s a little embarrassing. Not embarrassing, so much as …’
She trailed off as he took her arm and pulled her towards an empty corner of Emerson’s yard.
‘What is it?’
His voice was hushed. They both turned to look into the house through the sliding glass doors. Abbey was shoving Mark and laughing. Dani looked at her shoes. James was watching her, waiting to hear what she needed to tell him.
She gulped, thinking: here goes.
‘You know the air vents.’
‘Oh.’ He let out a puff of air. ‘Ha!’
‘What?’ Daniela’s insides were in knots. She hated having to do this.
‘Nothing. I just thought … What about the air vents?’
‘Well, you know how Dayton wouldn’t sign off on the last redesign?’
‘What? I knew there was a hold-up, but—’
‘They kicked me out when I went to show them the new design.’
‘They kicked you out?’
‘I’ve had to come up with a few alternatives, but Briggs thought it would be a good idea if there was someone else with me. Someone who was more … well … hairy.’
Daniela was still furious at Briggs for not backing her on this; furious at the fat old Dayton men for not listening to her; furious at herself for not figuring out how to get them to listen to her.
‘They wouldn’t listen to a woman?’ James said.
Daniela scowled.
‘Ah, Dani. I’m so sorry. This industry has been a boys’ club from way back. Yeah. Of course I’ll go with you. Just tell me what you need.’
‘You’ll just have to be in the room. I’ll send you copies of my two proposals so you’re across them. But I still insist on doing most of the talking.’
He nodded. ‘That really sucks, Dani.’
‘Yeah,’ she shrugged. ‘What can I do?’
She had gotten the unpleasant task of asking for James’s help out of the way, but somehow she didn’t feel any better. Abbey flounced over and burrowed her way under his arm.
‘What are you two gossiping about?’ The champagne had perked her up, and she seemed more like the girl Dani knew from the building site.
‘Just work stuff,’ said James, watching Dani. Abbey was watching her, too. Dani could see her looking her up and down, analysing her loose-fitting pants and the one black feminine top she owned, and concluding she was no threat.
‘I— um. I’ll be back in a minute,’ Dani said, slinking inside.
She snuck out of the party without saying goodbye, and called a cab from Emerson’s concrete driveway. The road was wide and dark and completely bare. Identical houses ran the length of the street. Garbage bins stood on the footpath like sentry boxes. She shivered. Ten minutes later, her cab pulled up outside her house.
‘Oh no,’ Dani groaned. The purple-scented vanilla-flavoured Barina was parked out the front of her building. A tell-tale light shone from the living-room window. She couldn’t believe it. She would have to go back to Clementine’s.
She felt salty tears well up in her eyes.
‘Drivler,’ she blubbed. ‘Keep drivling.’
‘But why would Mirabella need marriage counselling?’ Dani asked.
‘My guess is she wants to make it look like she made an effort with Humpty for when she’s negotiating a divorce settlement.’ Clem filled two tumblers with Kahlua.
‘That must be it,’ Dani shook her head. ‘She’s such a piece of work.’
‘Either that or she’s applying some pressure because she wants a new fur coat.’
The dreary, drizzly winter wore on. Daniela and Clem watched the rain through Clementine’s lounge-room windows. Dani had been staying over most nights for the past few weeks, and Clem was glad of the company. Even without the thunder cracking outside and the swollen rain drops pounding the street, she wouldn’t have felt like leaving her apartment.
‘Doesn’t Liz have her own place?’ Clem demanded as Daniela cued up the second DVD of the day. ‘I thought Simon used to spend all his time there? I mean, I love having you here. But it seems a bit unfair, you being driven from your home when he’s the bastard.’
‘Oh, it’s my own fault.’ Dani slopped over to the couch. She was wearing oversized pyjama bottoms. ‘I shouldn’t have slept with him. God I hate being a sloth,’ she sighed, falling backwards onto the couch. ‘It’s just so miserable outside.’
‘Seasonal Affective Disorder,’ Clem said. ‘I get it, too.’
‘Is that real?’
‘SAD? Yeah, it’s really common in Nordic countries and parts of the world where the winter sunlight is scant.’
‘SAD: Sleazy Arsehole Deadbeat, is more like what I’m suffering from,’ Dani grumbled.
‘More trifle?’
They had turned an ageing sponge cake into a curative dessert by adding half a litre of ready-made custard and half a bottle of Grand Marnier. It was the perfect blend of alcohol and sugar, and they ate straight from the bowl.
Daniela returned from the kitchen with the trifle and two spoons in time to see Anne Boleyn catch the eye of Henry VIII in the mini-series about Tudor England they had been watching.
‘Poor Catherine of Aragon,’ she sighed. ‘Cast aside because she was too old.’
This was becoming a routine. Weeknights they watched crime procedurals and detective mini-series, spooning leftovers into their mouths without taking their eyes off the screens.
‘When you’re heartbroken, even savage murder passes for escapism,’ Dani sighed.
One desperate night they had called Annabel, all piled into Dani’s Peugeot, and driven out to Auburn to try their luck where the odds were best. Auburn had two single men to every one single woman, according to an article entitled ‘The Man Drought’, and its amenities reflected this. The pubs looked more like pool halls, and boasted chalkboards with naked orange and pink ladies drawn on them to promote the Wednesday-night special of ‘Schnitz and Tits’: chicken hammered into a schnitzel served by topless waitresses alongside $4 schooners.
They had sat on tall bar stools, their feet tucked up away from the wet floor, and sipped beer from plastic cups as the men kept to their side of the pub, scratching themselves and watching them curiously. After half a schooner each, they left.
On the screen at Clementine’s Anne Boleyn was fluttering her lashes as the king eyed her from on high.
‘That’s what it’s like for eligible men in Sydney,’ she said. The actor playing Henry VIII was portly and had thin, bristly hair. The ladies in corsets danced around and tried to impress him. His gaze was trained on the Boleyn girl.
‘The master husband-hunter,’ Clem said. ‘And look how she ended up!’
They stared at the screen and scraped trifle crumbs from the bottom of the bowl. Clem didn’t know how long they had been there before they noticed the loud banging.
‘What’s that?’ said Dani, shaking suddenly, as if from a doze.
Clem listened for a minute while they tried to identify the alien noise.
‘The door!’ she said, standing unsteadily. Her legs were half asleep.
‘Who is it?’ she called out, lumbering towards the entrance. She raked her fingers through her hair. There was a glob of custard slowly heading south down the front of her Kurt Cobain T-shirt. In answer to her question, the knocking became louder and more insistent.
‘Alright!’ She opened the door.
Annabel was on her stoop in a tailored outfit and dark glasses. She looked Clementine up and down and snatched the spoon from her hand.
‘This is an intervention,’ she said, walking into the flat.
Daniela had sunk deep in the couch. She lay with her feet on the coffee table and the trifle bowl between her knees. When she saw Annabel she snapped up into a proper seated position.
‘We’re going to the races at Randwick,’ said Annabel.
She paused for a response, but Dani and Clem just looked at each other.
‘Now?’ asked Dani, finally.
‘No, in a month — I’m giving you good warning so you can book your tanning and hair, and buy your outfits. My company is hosting a marquee to promote a new Russian vodka,’ Annabel continued her pep talk. ‘I’ve got invitations for us all. It will be the perfect thing to help you two get over those horrid men. We’ll wear hats and bet on horses. It will be great.’
She dug into her handbag and pulled out two invitations.
‘There will be food and drinks, and most importantly corporate clients …’ Annabel’s voice trailed off. ‘What is
with
you two lately?’
They made a show of saying ‘Nothing, nothing. The races sound … cathartic’, while trying to come up with excuses to get out of going.
To Clem the races meant blisters and a choice of third-degree sunburn or third-degree frost bite from wearing a cocktail dress in eight hours of unpredictable spring weather.
‘The invitations have plus-one on them. You can bring a date or you can use it as a husband-hunting opportunity.’ Annabel smiled her saleswoman smile.
Clem opened the envelope. Inside were an entrance ticket and a folded slip of purple paper.
‘What’s this?’ she asked.
A note written on the page began
Clementine: you are strong and determined.
‘Affirmations,’ said Annabel.
Daniela opened hers.
Funny and brave,
she read.
‘I thought you might need some reminding that, while it’s true that you are not perfect, you are pretty remarkable.’
Clementine hugged Annabel.
‘You are so generous,’ she said.
‘And creative,’ added Daniela. Annabel beamed.
‘There’s one more thing.’
‘What’s that?’ Dani asked as she brushed trifle crumbs from her lap.
‘I need your advice. Harry Barchester. I’ve invited him. I think the races could be a good time to—’
‘Phase Three,’ Clem broke in. ‘Closing the deal.’
‘Yes. And while I think of it, I need to borrow another dress. Something below the knee. I don’t seem to own any that long.’
‘I’ve got just the thing.’ Clem took them into her bedroom where they sifted through long dresses and sensible skirts.
‘I’m just not sure how to play it with Harry.’ Annabel held a long green dress against herself.
‘Maybe you need to pounce,’ said Dani.
‘Pounce?’
‘It’s not a bad idea,’ Clem said. ‘He’s getting over his ex-wife’s new marriage. He might need a little confidence boost.’
‘Pounce,’ said Annabel, tossing the long dress back on the pile. ‘Now there’s a thought.’
After she left, Daniela and Clem contemplated leaving their cave.
‘What do you think?’ asked Daniela, returning to her blanket igloo on the couch.
‘I’ll need to book a hair appointment,’ Clem said, touching the greasy tangle on top of her head.
A clap of thunder sounded from the gathering grey outside. Spring seemed a long way away.
‘Our luck has to turn around sometime,’ said Dani.
‘I don’t believe in luck,’ Clem said. ‘But the odds of meeting a husband
are
higher if we leave my apartment.’
Monday brought two surprises and a flurry of bad weather. Flecks of rain flew through the air. They landed on Clementine’s face as cold as ice. Battling into work, she bought a cappuccino on the way, and went up to her office, only to find, via voicemail, that two of her clients had cancelled. She cursed them, knowing they were huddling beneath a blanket with their hands wrapped around mugs of soup. At lunchtime she ventured out to an Indian supermarket that served curry and rice from large black cauldrons. As she waited in line, a man brushed past her. He left a cloud of cologne in his wake. It was the same as Jason’s. When it hit Clem, she felt like she had been punched in the nose.
When she got back to her desk, there was a phone message from her two o’clock, cancelling. At 2pm, the phone rang again. It was Damon Dresner.
‘How are you?’ he asked, business-like.
‘I’m just great,’ Clementine said, brushing her hair back as though he could see her.
He told her that Jason and Amanda had had a reception for the baby.
‘Sort of a baby shower, I guess, but with vol-au-vents and brandy alexanders. It made me think of you. I wanted to see if you were okay.’
Clem twisted the phone cord in her fingers. ‘This weather is keeping my clients away.’
Flu was ripping through the city, and the newspaper pages were full of reports of businesses, services and government departments that were short on staff.
‘And how are you using your free time?’ he asked.
‘I should be doing paperwork, but I’m reading mostly. How would you use your free time?’
‘I wouldn’t know where to begin. Our team of eight has been reduced to four by this flu. If you are looking for something to do, there is plenty of work here. I don’t suppose you know anything about benchmark indices?’
It could have been an illusion brought on by the fact her brain was slowly freezing, but Clementine thought she detected a hint of flirtation.
‘Indices? That sounds like something from high-school maths.’
‘Dammit. My IRESS has crashed. Clementine, I’m sorry — I have to go.’
‘Oh, sure.’
‘Speak soon, okay?’
‘Okay.’ And he was gone.
The rain had eased back, and Clem was just about to leave her office when Will rang. He was in a flap. Finn had the flu, and Will was wondering whether she could look after Oscar for the night.
‘Sorry for the late notice, but Bec is at her wits’ end. Finn won’t stop crying, and now we’re thinking maybe we should take him into hospital. His temperature’s through the roof.’ He sounded shaken. Clementine promised to pick Oscar up from kindergarten straight away.
‘He can stay with me as long as you need. Is there anything else I can do?’
When Oscar saw Clem standing at the kindergarten gate, he burst into tears and cried that he wanted his mother.
‘No, not you,’ he said as she bent to pick him up.
‘He’s very tired,’ his kindergarten teacher said.
Clementine explained that Mummy and Daddy had asked her to look after him because Finny wasn’t feeling very well.
‘You can have a holiday at my house,’ she said.
Soon his chin stopped wobbling and his nose stopped dribbling, and as they turned into Clementine’s street he was pointing out all of the cats he spotted sitting on car bonnets that were warm with engine heat.
Oscar sat on the couch watching
Thomas the Tank Engine
while Clementine searched for something to give him for dinner. He bounced up and down to the theme song, and mimicked the lilting narration of Ringo Starr. After dinner he started grizzling again. She rocked him and brushed the fine hair on his head. His face felt hot. Clem lay him down and looked for her thermometer. When she returned, he had fallen asleep. She gently inserted it between his lips without waking him. 34.5 degrees. Normal. Relieved, she lifted him into her arms and cradled him in her lap. She could feel the fragile life pulsing inside him; the tiny beat of his heart, the rhythmic in-and-out of his breath. She kissed his damp brow and hoped he wasn’t too warm.
She called Daniela and told her that Oscar was spending the night. Daniela said she would sleep at her parents’ place. Before Clementine hung up, she mentioned Damon’s call.
‘What do you think he wanted?’ Dani asked.
‘I don’t know. He just called because he thought of me. Jason and Amanda had a baby shower.’
They spent a few minutes theorising on the possible interpretations of the phrase ‘speak soon, okay?’ before Clem cut the conversation short to check on Oscar.
Clementine put fresh sheets on the guest bed, but he wanted to sleep with her. She searched her bookshelves for something children would like, and found TS Eliot’s
Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats
. Oscar listened with glee to the stories of the Jellicle cats, Rum Tum Tugger and Growltiger’s last stand.
Friday delivered another icy morning and more client cancellations. Each time the phone rang, Clementine expected it would be Damon again. She Googled him and received a selection of web entries. He was a member of the Cloud Appreciation Society (had submitted a photo of a cumulus tower he said looked like a rabbit), and was part of a group that climbed mountains to raise money for a juvenile justice support agency. She considered calling him. Not to ask about Jason, but to ask about him. She was fascinated by the cloud group and wanted to know how he got involved in mountain climbing. But there were records to be updated and emails to be answered.
All four of her afternoon clients turned up, the last of which were Humpty and Mirabella Burbage-Jones-McRae.
‘I just don’t feel he respects me as an individual,’ Mirabella said, swishing around Clem’s office.
‘But, my love—’ Humpty implored.
‘He never comes to events that are important to me,’ Mirabella continued.
‘Yes, th-that is true. My business is very demanding,’ Humpty said.
‘And that’s another thing,’ Mirabella wheeled around. ‘He’s always in Melbourne on so-called “business trips”. How do I know he’s not down there with other women, having affairs?’
‘N-now, my love,’ Humpty blustered.
Clem’s ears had started to tune out the argument. All she could think about was her ring on Mirabella’s finger and how she could get it back.