Mad About the Boy Read online

  Percy clapped with delight. ‘Perfect. I knew you’d get it. Your turn, Mayflower. You have to ask the person to your right.’

  It was Nick, the best looking of the spare men who’d been dragged along for my benefit. Antony eyed him up.

  ‘OK, Nick,’ he said. ‘Shoot, shag, or marry – Gwynneth Paltrow, Kate Moss, Antonia Heaveringham?’

  Poor Nick looked thunderstruck – how could he answer without causing offence to me? His cheeks went quite pink and he looked from me to Antony and back with his mouth open like he was watching a table-tennis match. Luckily, Percy’s snorts of laughter saved him from social death.

  ‘Oh Antony, you are naughty, but you do totally get the game, you bad boy. Now Nick, you don’t have to answer that, it was impertinent, but it’s your turn to ask Antonia, because she’s on your right.’

  Nick turned to me, still looking pink.

  ‘Er, Antonia,’ he said. He really was quite attractive when you looked at him properly. Blue eyes, black hair – always a good combo – and he was nice and tall too. ‘Shoot, shag, or marry – Michael, John, or me?’

  This time it was my turn to blush and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I felt quite girly batting my eyelashes at him and telling him he was awful. He had just dopishly copied Antony’s joke, with a lot less subtlety, but it didn’t matter. It was just really nice to have somebody paying sexy attention to me in a cute, charming way. Up until then the only straight male attention I’d had since Hugo left, was David Maier’s unwelcome assault.

  And I was even happier by the time they’d left, because all three spare men had separately asked me for my phone number.

  Percy had done it again.

  It was past two by the time they’d all gone home and I’d had far too much to drink to drive to Muscle City, so I allowed myself a night off from it. I didn’t go the next night either. I went to a movie with Michael, followed by dinner, which was a novelty. An evening out – with a man. I couldn’t think of anything to say to him, but it was nice to be asked and especially so soon after meeting him. He’d rung me at the shop the next morning.

  I’d been on a date, I suddenly realized, lying in bed afterwards. The first date I’d ever been on really, unless you counted that coffee with Hugo in the Medieval History department cellar. My other dalliances, prior to Hugo, had just sort of happened – on the ski lift, in the camp kitchens – without any formal dates. Now I needed a little black book to keep track of my love life – as both the other spare men, John and Nick, had already rung to ask me out the following week. I felt like hot stuff.

  When I walked into the gym at midnight on the third night, James seemed pleased to see me.

  ‘Hey, Antonia,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d given up on us.’

  I stuck my tongue out at him and jumped onto a treadmill. The gym was busier than usual, but then I was there earlier than I usually went. It was amazing the difference even half an hour made at that time of night.

  I got on with my thing, but while having more people around helped to keep me focused, I rather missed James’s encouraging comments. I sneaked a few looks over to the front desk to see what he was doing and he was always busy checking people in and out and selling them protein drinks.

  It surprised me to realize how much I missed chatting to him. It took my mind off the tedium of the repetitive exercises, but it was more than that. I just liked talking to him. He was so different from the other people I knew.

  Chatting to James wasn’t all wordplay and wit and verbal high-wire acts, it was just, well, talking. He did have a sense of humour, of course, and we laughed a lot, but it wasn’t all so highly strung and hysterical as it was with my usual friends.

  We were so different from each other, I reflected, trying to remember when to breathe in and out on the seated leg curl. We came from such disparate circumstances and experiences, we couldn’t assume things about each other, like mutual references. It made me realize that most of the conversations I had with Percy and Tom, especially with Hugo, and even with the people at Percy’s dinner party, were all in some kind of coded language, which was often almost the point of the conversation, rather than what we were actually saying.

  Talking to James, I had to think a bit more than I was used to. Like the breathing he had taught me, I had to stay conscious and work at it, but that felt good in itself. And I liked the way his mouth curled at the edges when he smiled.

  And after the hurt inflicted on me by Hugo and the let down of the women friends I thought I’d made in Sydney, it was also great, I thought, to have a platonic friendship with a straight man. Well, I assumed James was straight. After Hugo’s revelation, I’d never be entirely sure again, but he certainly seemed pretty hetero.

  It was funny how I could chat to him, I thought, a rather odd, loner kung fu freak who worked in an all-night gym, but I’d found it very hard to think of anything to say to Michael the Spare Man the night before. I would have thought I’d have had more in common with a stockbroker, I’d known enough of them in London, after all, but in his case we’d ended up having a very tedious conversation which was more like a verbal list of every film each of us had ever seen. Not even very many of them the same. I’d glazed over for good at Terminator 2.

  I wondered if it would be easier with Spare Men John and Nick, when I had dinner with each of them the following week. John was something in marine insurance, so I rather thought it wouldn’t in his case, but it would be a lark, just the same, going on another date. Nick was a journalist though, so he ought to have something to say.

  He was taking me to a very fashionable new restaurant that I’d been reading about in the social pages, which should be fun, I thought. I was sitting on the abs machine wondering what to wear to it, when James appeared. He never made a sound when he moved and I would just look up and find him there. He watched me for a while and then adjusted the weights on the machine.

  ‘It’s too light for you, Antonia,’ he said. ‘No wonder you were getting bored with coming here, it’s not a challenge for you any more. I think you need to add two kilos to all the machines to keep yourself interested.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t miss coming because I was bored,’ I told him, panting slightly at the strain of the increased weight. ‘I’ve been out on the town dating sexy single Sydney men.’

  Somehow, over the weeks, I’d told James all about my marital break-up. I wasn’t even sure how the conversation had gone that way, but once I’d started I’d just told him the lot. He hadn’t seemed shocked or particularly surprised, just pleasantly sympathetic. It had been good to talk about it in a matter of fact way, with someone who didn’t know any of the protagonists, except me, and who didn’t secretly relish the gossipy scandalous side of it.

  I’d also told him all about Tom and the shop and Percy and he’d taken it all in with interest, without passing any judgements. I suppose he was what they call a good listener.

  As he knew all about my disastrous love life, I thought he’d be interested in the bright new turn it had taken. I was rather excited about it, but James didn’t look particularly thrilled for me – not that it was ever easy to know what he was thinking under that stupid hat.

  ‘So you’re heading into the Eastern Suburbs singles scene, are you?’ he asked, leaning against the machine in his usual navy nylon tracksuit pants and white polo shirt. ‘That’s seven, Antonia. Just three to go. Keep your neck soft.’

  ‘Well, I’ve been on one date and I have another two next week, so I suppose I am. All these handsome men just keep ringing me up and asking to take me out.’

  I knew I sounded silly, babbling on like a teenager, but it made such a change to have something to be silly about.

  ‘Nine, ten,’ said James. ‘Good. Have a break before the next lot. That’s great, Antonia – about the men. I hope you have fun. Not that I’m surprised all these guys want to take you out, you’re very pretty, as I’m sure you know. But I must tell you one thing.’

  I lay on the machine and loo
ked up at him. I was glad he thought I was pretty. I was turning into a boy magnet. Cool bananas – as Tom had taken to saying. But James was looking quite serious.

  ‘OK, start the next set,’ he said. ‘One, two, don’t forget your breathing …’

  ‘So what is this thing that you must tell me?’ I asked, hoping it would be something else about me being pretty.

  ‘Oh,’ said James, looking a bit reluctant to go on, after all. ‘I don’t want to scare you, but there is a certain kind of man in Sydney, Antonia – especially in the Eastern Suburbs – who preys on single women. That’s ten. Let’s go on to the adductor.’

  He fiddled with the weights and stood politely to the side as I sat there feeling ridiculous with my legs splayed wide open, struggling to bring them back together with the heavier load on board.

  ‘You … were … saying …’ I grunted out, still unable to close my legs entirely.

  ‘Take it slowly, I’ve jacked the weight up quite a bit. Breeeeeeathe …’

  ‘Carry on telling me about these men, James,’ I said testily. ‘I want to hear what you have to say.’

  ‘Oh, look,’ he said. ‘I’m sure these blokes you’re seeing are very nice, but just watch out for yourself, that’s all. There are so many gay men in that scene, that any straight guy can start to look like something special and those creeps really play on that. They might seem like “gentlemen”, but they collect scalps, if you know what I mean. I know a lot of the girls who come in here and I’ve heard some really bad sob stories. Single women can be very vulnerable in this town.’

  Now I really was annoyed. How dare he tell me that Nick and John and Michael were creeps? He didn’t even know them. What a spoilsport. Just when I was feeling good about myself and having a bit of harmless fun, he’d gone all moralistic and was making me out to be some kind of pathetic victim. I was really grumpy with him.

  ‘So what about you then?’ I said snippily. ‘Maybe it’s yourself you’re describing, seeing as you know so much about it – and if you meet so many sad single girls in here, perhaps you prey on vulnerable women yourself, eh, James?’

  He stood up.

  ‘No, Antonia, I do not,’ he said, sounding cooler than I’d ever heard him. ‘If you really want to know – I’m celibate. I conserve my chi for my practice.’

  He placed his hands together at his chest and bowed to me, before walking away. When I left the gym half an hour later, he was nowhere to be seen.

  12

  A couple of days later I was in the shop, with Dee helping me to do the new winter window display, featuring the quilts and the blankets we’d bought in the Blue Mountains. It was looking wonderful.

  With no prompting from me she’d brought along some beautiful dark red bare branches from her garden, which looked really stunning in a huge green 1940s vase we’d found on our most recent mission to Newcastle.

  We’d draped the quilts over the kindergarten chairs, which were yellow and green, and we’d filled the 50s baskets with gumnuts and fir cones. With the adorable woolly animals I had Country Women’s Association members across NSW knitting for me, popping up throughout the window, the whole thing looked really cosy. We went outside to admire our handiwork.

  ‘I feel a bit guilty,’ said Dee as we stood and gazed at it. ‘If I’d seen this window a year ago, I would have come in here and bought the lot. You’ve done yourself out of your best customer by being so nice to me, Antonia.’

  ‘If you hadn’t come on the last two buying trips with me, I wouldn’t have most of this stuff,’ I said. ‘And windows as lovely as this will bring lots of new customers in.’

  ‘They would if you had more passing trade,’ said Dee. ‘I only came the first time because I’d seen the articles in Belle and Inside.’

  It was the truth. I was doing OK, but I could be doing so much better if I was actually on Queen Street where the action was.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘But them’s the breaks. I have to be satisfied with what I have.’

  The phone rang and I ran inside. It was Percy.

  ‘Is that awful Dee there?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I said, crossly. ‘But my friend Dee’s here. Why?’

  ‘I need to talk to you urgently, but not in front of her. Call me back when she’s gone.’

  ‘I will do no such thing,’ I replied. ‘You’re only five minutes away, give it an hour and try your luck.’

  He put the phone down.

  He was in luck, because shortly afterwards Dee left for one of her twice-weekly facials, so when Percy came creeping along the other side of the street, trying to see if she was there, she had already gone. He came through the door making the air raid siren all-clear noise. He was wearing new leopardskin print jeans.

  ‘You really must get over this Dee paranoia, Percy,’ I said. ‘I’m beginning to find it very tedious. I really like her and I’m not going to stop being her friend, so deal with it.’

  And she’s the only girlfriend I’ve got these days, I thought, although I didn’t voice it.

  ‘Oh simmer down, Antonia,’ he said, throwing a pile of patchwork knitted blankets onto the floor and settling himself down into one of the shop’s armchairs. ‘Pass me some needlepoint, I’m in the mood.’

  I handed him an embroidery frame set up with a new cushion cover I was developing. So far the canvas had the words ‘Too Rich, Too Thin’ traced on it in pencil, with the outlines of some curly borders. I’d already done the background in navy and was still deciding what colours to do the swirls and lettering in. Percy snorted with laughter when he saw it.

  ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘You can give one to your dear friend Dee for Christmas. And to that busy little body Suzy Thorogood. I saw her scampering along Queen Street just now, like a nasty little bony crab. You really are a hopeless judge of character, Antonia, but you clearly know your customers, these cushions will sell out immediately. I think we should do the lettering and curlicues in two shades of rich red and a very expensive-looking beige.’

  I chucked him my bag of wool and he threaded a needle with dark crimson.

  ‘What were you in such a flap to tell me earlier?’ I asked him, as I put some tea into the pot.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, with great enthusiasm, settling himself in the chair like an old dog. ‘I’d completely forgotten. You know that Nick fellow we had to dinner last week – has he rung to ask you out?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, proudly. ‘We’re going out on Friday, to that new restaurant down at Woolloomooloo, the one that’s always in the social blight pages. Pansy’s, or Panda’s, or whatever it’s called. What do you think I should wear?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Percy vehemently.

  ‘Oh, come on, Perce, I’m not that desperate for a snog.’

  ‘I mean,’ he said, with great drama, ‘that you must not go.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I said. ‘I’m really looking forward to it. I haven’t been anywhere exciting for months and I think he’s rather cute. I love that dark hair, blue-eyed look of his.’

  ‘No no NO!’ said Percy at increasing decibels. ‘You must call him at once and cancel. I had lunch with Antony today and he told me everything.’

  ‘Everything what?’

  ‘Apparently, he’s an absolute rogue.’

  He uttered the words with his most theatrical relish. He’d make a marvellous Lady Bracknell, I thought, in this mode.

  ‘What do you mean he’s an “apsol-yoot rrrrrrrrrogue”?’ I asked him, imitating his pronunciation.

  ‘A total wolf. Legendary throughout the Eastern Suburbs for preying on defenceless women. And – so Antony tells me – there’s nothing he relishes more than the chance to spoil a pretty English gel, fresh off the boat, before she hears about his terrible reputation.’

  ‘I came on a plane, Percy. Over two years ago. And I’m hardly a gel – I’m a wife and mother.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so pedantic, you know exactly what I mean. You’re new blood in the singles
meat market and he’s sniffed you out like a cunning old ferret.’

  I had to laugh, but at the same time, I was beginning to feel a little uneasy. It all tied in horribly with what James had told me.

  ‘What about the other two spare men who came for dinner – are they wolf ferrets too?’ I said. ‘Because they’ve both asked me out as well. In fact I went out with Michael the other night. I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want any fuss about it.’

  ‘Was he the dull one?’ asked Percy.

  I nodded. ‘He likes action movies,’ I said.

  Percy raised his eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘God preserve us. Yes, no, apparently he’s relatively harmless. The worst he does is bore women to death. Even very stupid girls tire of him quickly, according to Antony, which is a shame, because he’s got pots of money and a huge willy. Antony’s always trying to pair him off with his divorced clients, but it never works.’

  ‘So that explains why he’s single. What about the other one – John?’

  Percy thought for a while, holding his thread in the air, mid-stitch, trying to remember.

  ‘Oh yes, I’ve got it. He’s the stalker. Terrible problems with his mother. Falls madly in love with any woman he thinks mummy might deem “suitable” – she’s a frightful cow apparently – and then stalks them like a jealous psycho if they don’t respond. Or, if he thinks they’re attractive, but not at all suitable, he just chats them up, shags them, dumps them and tells everyone about it, just like that Nick Pollock fellow.’

  I sat down and exhaled deeply.

  ‘Let me get this right,’ I said. ‘You asked Antony, Dominic and Daisy to bring some nice single men to our house for me to meet and that trio of sociopaths was the best they could come up with?’

  Percy chortled.

  ‘Antony says they were the only ones they could think of who were single, hetero, relatively entertaining and could be taken out in public. They weren’t expecting you to marry any of them.’

  ‘Well, it sounds like they should have come with health warnings attached. Beware: highly toxic.’