Husband Hunters (28 page)

There was a soft knock at the door. Dani reached for a tissue and wiped her face. Tears had been gathering in her eyes all morning as she read progress reports. A few of the pages had wet spots where tears had fallen and soaked into the paper.

‘Come in.’

Briggs stuck his head cautiously into her office. He held a thick yellow envelope in his hands. He shuffled in and cleared his throat once, then again, before putting the package on Dani’s desk.

‘Er, I thought you’d want to see this,’ he said.

‘What is it?’ Dani reached for the open envelope and slid out its contents. The documents had the Dayton logo stamped on the corner.

‘It’s, er, the authorisation for the new plans. Your plans. They signed off on your plans.’

‘Oh,’ she pulled out the wad of papers and looked at them. Hasty blue signatures had been added to the bottom.

‘We had to start immediately … last week when you were … It was all thanks to you.’

‘Oh.’ She knew she should have been pleased, but something inside her felt stalled. Blocked.

Briggs looked at his feet.

‘You did real good, kid,’ he said, lifting his gaze to her. ‘You really saved our bacon.’

Something warm stirred inside Daniela. She smiled.

‘Thanks, Briggs.’

He nodded. ‘Are you okay with everything … I mean … you could have taken more time if you wanted.’

She sighed. ‘Thanks. No. I needed to occupy my mind.’

‘Well, if you ever, you know, need anything …’ He headed for the door. ‘I’ll leave you alone, but don’t be afraid to …’

‘Thanks.’

He stopped, his hand on the doorknob.

‘I was real proud of you, kid,’ he said. ‘We all were.’

Dani felt her eyes fog up again. She smiled weakly.

He nodded and left.

She phoned Joey and Silv, and told them to come to Leichhardt for the family dinner on Wednesday night.

‘What are we eating?’ asked Joey.

Dani hadn’t thought that far ahead.

‘I don’t know. I’ll cook,’ she said.

‘If you do the pasta and garlic bread, I’ll bring cacciatore,’ he said.

Silv offered to bring dessert. ‘How’s Pa?’ he asked.

‘He’s okay, considering.’

Vincenzo had spent the week shuffling around in his pyjamas, so Dani asked Silv if he could pick up some more men’s pyjamas during the week.

Putting down the phone, she noticed a card on her desk. She ripped the envelope and opened the card inside.
Call me any time you need a friend, James.

Great salty tears rolled down her cheeks. She held it in her hands and studied the words until she was distracted by a text message. It was from James, too. It simply said:
Welcome back. Do you need anything?

Daniela started to type a reply, but for the second time in a week she couldn’t find the words. She didn’t know what she wanted to say to him. She needed to express fear-hope-longing. Watching her father mourn for her mother had made her realise that she didn’t want to go on pretending that she was happy having James just as a friend. She started typing again:
I don’t need you to be my friend.
She studied her message for a minute. He might misread it. She deleted the letters and put her phone away.

She left work early, anxious to get home to her pa. He was in his chair watching the news when Dani arrived with a bag of groceries. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off.

She sat on the arm of his chair and kissed his forehead.

‘How was today?’

‘I’ll be okay.’ He patted her hand.

After dinner she received a voice message from Cameron. She didn’t feel like seeing him, and decided she would call him back in the morning. Selfishly, she just wanted to lie down and feel someone’s arms around her and not have to speak. Daniela could have invited him to spend the night, but she didn’t want to. She knew it was because she didn’t want to lie in someone’s arms; she wanted to lie in James’s arms.

Pa poked his head into the kitchen.

‘I’m off to bed, then.’ His voice was weary, and deep creases had formed around his eyes.

‘Night.’ Dani stood and kissed him again.

She heard him make his way upstairs, and then the house was silent again. She looked at the message James had sent.

Suddenly she had to tell him how she felt. She had to do it straight away.

She started typing, unburdening herself into the phone’s text plain. She told him how she thought about him constantly. How he made her happier than anybody else she knew.

I’m in love with you
, she clicked into the phone.

Her fingers worked furiously. There was not enough room. She realised it was stupid to do it via text. She dialled his number, but decided that wouldn’t do either. She had to see him, so she composed a new message.

I need you
, she typed. Then, before she could change her mind, she closed her eyes and pressed send.

James called straight away.

‘Where are you?’ he said breathlessly.

‘At Ma and Pa’s in Leichhardt. I just need someone to talk to.’

‘I’ll be right over.’

After the line went dead, she stood up. He was coming. Her hands were shaking. She ran her fingers through her hair and walked around the lounge room. Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang.

‘James,’ she said, opening the door to him. He looked pale in the white glow of the porch light. He hugged her. After a moment, she pulled away.

‘How are you?’ He held her with steady arms.

‘James, I have to tell you something,’ she said. ‘I have to do it before it’s too late.’

He looked at her encouragingly.

‘I —’ The words stuck in her throat. Just say it, her mind shouted: I’m in love with you.

‘I—’

‘Dani, what is it? You look stressed, are you feeling okay?’

She nodded and wiped her brow. ‘I’ve just been thinking. A lot lately. About Ma and what she wanted for me.’

‘That’s natural.’

‘The thing is she really wanted me to … I feel like she was always disappointed I never—’

James watched her patiently. She felt anxious; as though a balloon of fear was inflating in her chest. She changed tactics.

‘Do you really think I push people away?’

‘Is that what this is about? No. No, I don’t think that. I shouldn’t have said it.’

‘But I think it’s true.’

‘No, no, that wasn’t about you. That was about me. You’re so warm and funny and … just … easy to be around.’

This wasn’t going how she had hoped.

‘Then why don’t … why don’t I have a husband?’

‘A husband?’ He looked shocked. ‘Dani, I don’t know why you don’t have a husband, if that’s what you want. You should have a husband. If that’s how you measure your self-worth, you should have seven husbands.’

She smiled and gave James a push.

‘I never knew you cared about that sort of thing,’ he said.

She sucked in a lungful of air. ‘No, I didn’t really,’ she agreed. ‘I think it’s just what I’ve felt others have always expected. To Ma, it was the most important thing in the world. And then it became not about a husband but about one person.’

She looked up at his kind green eyes that had given her happiness and comfort and companionship. Now, they gave her courage.

‘I—’ She faltered again.

‘Come here,’ he said, and wrapped his arms around her. ‘You, Daniela DeLuca, are one of this world’s true great women. And even if you are impossible to understand sometimes, I’m very proud to call you my friend.’

Friend. That word landed like an iron anvil, and she remembered that James was with Abbey. Sadness welled up inside her. A sob escaped her lips. She tried to twist away, unable to settle for his tepid touch. But he wouldn’t let her.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, holding her. ‘You don’t have to be tough all the time.’

‘It’s so hard,’ she squeezed her eyes closed.

For what felt like the hundredth time that week, she cried. She let the grief pour out of her. She let him hold her. But she felt empty inside. She knew she shouldn’t let the embrace continue. But she couldn’t bear to let him go.

‘How many tins of tomatoes?’

‘Eight,’ said Clem. ‘No, nine.’

Annabel put the cans in the trolley. For the occasion of going to the supermarket, she was dressed in six-inch heels and a purple dress that was anchored to her waist by a thin suede belt.

‘How many lasagnes are you making?’

‘Six. Two for Joey, two for Silv, and two for Dani and her pa. They can freeze them.’

‘You’re a good friend.’

‘Few would agree that subjecting the bereaved to my cooking is a kindness.’

Annabel laughed.

‘I remember coming home from the hospital with Dad after we heard Mum wasn’t going to make it,’ Clementine said. ‘I was sixteen. When we got to the front door there was a pot of curry sitting on the welcome mat. For the next few months food from friends and neighbours just kept appearing. People would come and visit, of course. But it was the offerings that really struck me. They were such sustaining gifts delivered with selfless compassion. It was as though people were saying, “We understand you might want to be alone, but we’re thinking of you.” It was the most wonderful thing.’

‘That’s lovely,’ said Annabel.

They continued down the aisle.

‘I can’t believe what Harry did,’ Clem said after a moment.

‘Can’t you?’ Annabel raised an eyebrow.

‘I suppose I can.’

‘It’s not important. I feel far worse for poor Humpty. He’s devastated. And he’s selling his place.’

‘The one in Double Bay?’

‘Yes. He’s giving Mirabella half.’

‘Half of what? The house?’

‘Half of everything.’

Clementine stopped pushing the trolley. ‘What? Less than four months of marriage and he’s giving her half his estate?’

‘I know, I know,’ Annabel shook her head. ‘He says he has no choice. They signed this prenuptial agreement that states she gets half in a no-fault divorce.’

‘But it
is
fault. It’s
her
fault!’

‘Humpty says he has no proof. She’s denying everything.’

‘And she’s still living in the house?’

‘Scandalous, isn’t it?’

Clementine shook her head. ‘Did you hear she landed that
House and Garden
photo shoot she was after, too?’

‘You’re kidding?’ Annabel dropped a plastic tub of grated Parmesan. It bounced off her foot and rolled across the aisle.

‘Clem’ — Annabel clutched her arm — ‘isn’t that Jason?’

Clementine’s head snapped up. Over by the ready-made sauce, Jason Ceravic was standing with a basket in his hand. Amanda was loading it with pesto. Clem tried to back out of the aisle. Too late. Amanda had seen her.

‘Hello there,’ she waved.

Jason looked up. Their eyes met. ‘Y-you two know each other?’ he stammered.

‘Darling,’ said Amanda, touching her husband’s arm, ‘we met at Mirabella’s wedding, remember? How are you, Clarabell?’ She had softened. Her hair was longer and sat more naturally. Her face was rounder. She looked healthier. Jason looked ashen.

‘Clementine.’ Clem offered her hand. He shook it.

‘I am sorry, you’ll have to forgive me, Clementine,’ Amanda said. ‘Pregnancy brain.’

‘I heard you were pregnant,’ Clem said, smiling. ‘Congratulations.’ Jason stared at her, wide-eyed.

‘Yes. We’re very excited.’ Amanda smoothed her hand over her belly.

As Amanda flattened her silk shirt, Clem could see the beginnings of a bump. She felt a stirring of longing, but it wasn’t as acute as usual. She was glad Jason had stayed with Amanda, and she was glad the affair had been severed without hurting her.

Annabel introduced herself.

‘Annabel Summers — I know you,’ Amanda responded. ‘Sweet Success is one of Sydney’s most exciting PR companies. I loved what you did with the Farouk spice launch.’

‘Thank you,’ Annabel beamed.

‘Clementine.’ Amanda touched her arm. ‘You simply must bring Annabel to Damon’s fundraiser next month. He’s done an incredible job supporting The Three Peaks Foundation. You must be so proud.’

‘Actually, I haven’t seen much of Damon lately,’ Clem said. Jason shifted on his feet.

‘Really?’ said Amanda. ‘He was talking about you just the other day, telling us what fabulous luck you had had at the races together.’

‘He was?’ She felt an unexpected surge of happiness in her chest.

Jason raked his hand through his hair. Clementine enjoyed watching him squirm. Amanda started digging in her handbag. She pulled out an invitation.

‘Here,’ she gave it to Annabel. ‘Damon climbs mountains to raise money for a juvenile justice programme. The fundraiser is next month. It would be wonderful to have your support.’

‘Thank you,’ said Annabel. ‘Sweet Success needs to do more philanthropic work.’ She nudged Clem with her elbow.

Amanda smiled. ‘We had better go,’ she said.

‘Good luck,’ Clem said.

‘Nice to see you, Clementine,’ Jason muttered.

‘You too,’ she called as they walked away. ‘I’m glad everything worked out for the best.’

The Wednesday after Gia’s funeral, they met at The Carrington for a meal. Dani hardly touched her food. She told Annabel and Clementine that she didn’t want to talk about her mother and immediately changed the subject.

‘I can’t get over what Harry Barchester did,’ she said. ‘What is wrong with men? Why can’t they just keep it in their pants?’

‘Have you spoken to him?’ Clem asked Annabel.

‘He called me the other day to cancel dinner plans we had for Friday evening. I didn’t tell him I knew about Mirabella.’

‘Why do they just have to spray it everywhere?’ Daniela asked.

‘Dani.’ Annabel wrinkled her nose. ‘Yuck.’

‘It’s to do with biology and the relative scarcity of eggs versus sperm,’ Clem said. ‘Women are born with all the eggs they will ever have. They’re precious and finite and they degrade over time, so evolution made us discerning. Men’s sperm is constantly being replenished.’

‘How do you know all of this stuff?’ Annabel asked.

‘University. Besides, I like having a biological explanation for my neuroses.’

‘I saw James the other night,’ Daniela said. She pushed a scrap of rice around her plate. Her head was bowed. A piece of hair fell forward, partially hiding her face.

‘I called him over because I wanted to tell him how I felt about him.’

Annabel dropped her knife. ‘And?’ She and Clem leaned forward eagerly.

‘He just sees me as a friend,’ Dani said, sadly.

She had lost weight. After the funeral Clementine had watched as Dani spoke with guests at the wake and poured cups of coffee for older mourners. She had always had a lithe, feline grace, but now her tiny frame took on the quality of frailty. She looked gaunt, and her skin had lost its glow. The bones in her wrist were visible as she pushed the rice back and forth on her plate.

‘At least I know,’ she said. Her shoulders were bent forward under the weight of sadness.

‘Are you sure there’s no hope?’ Annabel asked softly.

Dani shook her head. Her eyes were glistening. ‘No, you were right, Clem. We’ve got to forget about this romantic love notion. I should concentrate on winning Cameron over so we can have the other important things. A home. A family. He’s a really good man. I’m sure over time we would develop a deep affection for each other.’

‘I’m so sorry, Dani.’ Annabel gave her a hug.

Guilt bloomed in Clem’s chest. She felt like she should be able to do something, but she didn’t know what. Instead she just held Dani’s hand.

‘It’s good you told him,’ Annabel said. ‘We have to do what we think is right for us. At the funeral I realised something: I don’t want to be with a prize that I’ve hunted. For me it has never been about having a family, and if I can’t find love, well that’s okay. I’ll be alone and my life will be about other things.’

Clem squeezed Dani’s hand. It had rained the morning of the funeral. Inside the church, steamy vapour rose from sodden shoulders, and the air filled with the doggy smell of wet wool. Mourners clasped droopy, damp hats. She and Annabel had sat behind Daniela. As the service started, Clem reached forward and squeezed Dani’s shoulder. The woe carved on Mr DeLuca’s face was as deep and as permanent as a scar. She cried as he spoke about his wife. He told the story of how they met. ‘Pain is the price we pay for love,’ he concluded. It seemed a fair transaction.

The waitress brought over coffee.

Daniela took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I just feel like it’s never going to happen for me. He’s always been the one. Ever since university.’

‘You used to write me such longing letters about him at uni,’ Clementine mused.

‘I hate him,’ said Dani suddenly. ‘How can he not feel it, too? How can he be so … impervious?’

Annabel and Clementine looked at each other. They had seen them together. They lit up. Clem didn’t understand how he could not feel it.

When Clementine got home she went to her linen cupboard. Down the bottom was a large cardboard box wrapped like a Christmas present. It was full of letters and mementos. The most recent entries were a crayon birthday card from Oscar (it was a picture of a smiling sun accompanied by the letters H, P and the number 6, which Will told her expressed sincere birthday wishes from his four-year-old) and the card that had come with the tulips Jason had sent her the night he had cancelled their last dinner.

At the bottom was the oldest stuff: work she had been proud of at high school, a university transcript, birthday cards and letters.

There were photos of her mother. They ranged from her last days when they had all driven to the coast and eaten fish and chips on the sand, to a Polaroid from before Clem was born. Her mother was smiling in a wedding dress, with a rose-gold band — the same colour as her hair — shiny and new on her hand. Clementine touched her bare finger, missing her ring.

Then she found what she was looking for. It was a letter from Dani written on light blue graph paper. She had scrawled it during a university lecture.

In those pre-smartphone days, they had always written to each other during the lectures, then swapped notes when they met on the lawn for lunch. Clem fossicked some more, and found another blue page.

Clem pulled another letter out, and another.

Clem counted fourteen in all. There had been dozens more, but they had been lost over the years. They went on in this vein for pages; Dani pining and cataloguing James Jensen’s many virtues, then trying to come up with ways she could stop herself from being infatuated with him. It was in the eighth letter that she started using the word ‘love’. Then she set about discovering an antidote to it, as though it were some sort of flesh-eating disease.

Clementine couldn’t remember what she had written back to Dani, but she could tell she had been counselling her to tell him. Daniela had refused, and had eventually started seeing another guy to dull the pain of what she perceived as James’s indifference.

Now, Clem put all of the blue letters in a pile and returned the rest of the stuff to the box. The last thing to go in was the card that had come with the tulips. She looked at it:
You deserve better
. And a kiss.

‘You’re damn right I do,’ she said to nobody. Then she tore the card in half and tossed it into the bin. She plugged the vacuum cleaner in and attacked the carpet in the lounge room, hoping the roar would drown out her thoughts. Dani hated showing emotion. She spent so much time working with men that she had become almost pathological about wanting to prove she was just like them. Or rather, that she deserved to be treated no differently.

Clementine looked at the blue pile of her letters. She had thought she would give them to Dani, but was worried they would only upset her. Sliding them into a large envelope, she walked around feeling their weight as she tried to decide what to do. She felt as though somehow they could make a difference.

She had seen James with Dani, and she had seen him with his new girlfriend. When he was with Daniela his adoration was clear. She also knew how impenetrable Dani could be. Clem felt like she had a clear picture of what had happened to the relationship. Sometimes when couples laid out their stories, she could see where they had taken missteps and was able to come up with solutions. It didn’t mean it would be easy, it just meant the cause of the problems could be treated. Now she felt like some sort of pragmatic relationship fairy. Clem was certain that James loved Daniela but believed she didn’t love him back. She thought that perhaps if she gave Dani the letters, reading them would remind her of how happy James made her. They would urge her to let him see how sincerely she felt.

Clem jumped up and grabbed the envelope.

She looked up the address of Dani’s building site and added enough stamps to ensure it got there. She couldn’t remember Daniela’s title, but she supposed there wouldn’t be more than one Ms D.B. DeLuca working there. She started to write ‘Daniela DeLuca’, but somehow it came out ‘James Jensen’.