Husband Hunters (25 page)

Macarons loaded. Payment going thru. Back in 10.

She breathed a sigh of relief. A waiter with a tray of four limp cornets stuffed with caviar and mascarpone sailed past. Annabel instinctively reached for one, but then pulled her hand back. She needed to preserve every last available morsel of food for the guests. The waiter sniggered as her stomach gave a grumble of disapproval.

‘Those people over there look hungry,’ Annabel said, pointing to a clutch of young models.

Humpty waved again. She summoned up her best PR-rep smile and went out to say hello.

‘How are you, Humpty?’ She embraced him. ‘Mirabella.’ She smiled. Mirabella didn’t smile back. She was flanked by Jason and Amanda Ceravic on one side, and Jason’s friend Damon on the other.

‘Nice to see you again.’ Damon kissed Annabel’s cheek. ‘Is your friend—?’

‘We just stopped off to say hello on the way to the Chandon marquee,’ Mirabella interrupted. ‘We were surprised not to have been invited to your little tent. Particularly with Humpty being one of your most valuable clients.’

Annabel gritted her teeth. Mirabella knew darn well she had invited Humpty. He had told her that he would have far preferred to come to her marquee, but Mirabella had insisted they say yes to the more established, better-known Chandon invitation, and so their spots had gone to a visiting Mumbai film star and her toothbrush magnate husband.

‘Well I’m sure the Chandon marquee will be more to your taste,’ Annabel said as calmly as she could. A small part of her wanted Mirabella to see that Harry was inside. Annabel leaned back to see where he was. Cameron had him in a corner, where they were bent over a form guide.

‘Well, lovely to see you all,’ Annabel tried to hurry them along. ‘You’re welcome back here anytime, of course. All of my other good friends are inside,’ she said pointedly to Damon. He raised his eyebrows.

Mirabella turned, and in a swoosh of silk she was gone.

‘Bye-bye, Humpty,’ Annabel called, waving as he followed after his wife.

Annabel fell into step with Patrick and the Hills on their way back from the bookmakers. Each was clutching a white betting slip.

‘That fellow Harry said you put a fifty on Sideswipe,’ said Byron, his eyes dancing with excitement. Annabel swallowed. The amount was not representative of her confidence in the horse.

‘Spend big, win big, eh?’ He waved his receipt at her. She saw with horror that he had put $200 on a six-to-one shot. Gulping, she wondered whether there was any universe in which bookmakers would allow you to cancel a bet. She pictured their cynical eyes and downturned mouths. Not likely. Besides, race two was about to start.

‘Come on,’ Byron hooked his arm around Annabel’s. ‘Let’s watch it.’

Sideswipe had drawn barrier seven. She made a slow start but gained on the turns. Coming into the home stretch, she was blocked into a pack where she was running fourth.

‘Go, Sideswipe!’ shouted Hilary. Annabel felt ill.

The pack was opening up. The crowd started cheering as the horses neared the finish line. The horse blocking Sideswipe fell away a little. Sideswipe moved. She bolted past two horses. One hundred metres out from the finish line and she was neck and neck with a black mare, Fantavia. She broke away.

‘I can’t watch!’ cried Byron.

Sideswipe gained. Annabel put her hand to her chest.

‘Come on!’ Hilary shook her fist.

Sideswipe passed the finish line. There was a flash and a pause. They crowd held its breath.

‘Sideswipe!’ shouted the announcer.

They cheered. Hilary was still whooping in Annabel’s ear as Sybilla arrived with a large flat cardboard box in her arms. Annabel signalled Ant. He had managed to rustle up some spare platters, but they were branded with L’ Oreal Fashion Tent logos.

‘We’ll cover them with napkins,’ Annabel said, taking them.

They laid the macarons out, and the waiters started handing them around. Annabel called the caterer, who said that he was in his van and about to turn into the racecourse. She gave him directions, then gathered Ant and two of the waiters. They waved away some tipsy teenagers from behind the marquee to make room for the catering van. Within minutes they had transferred the fresh pink salmon pancakes onto trays and were handing them out, too.

‘Phew,’ said Sybilla, placing the last hors d’oeuvres on a platter.

‘You did very well.’ Annabel told her. ‘I’d like to offer you a full-time position. Permanently. And a small raise. You deserve it.’

‘Thank you,’ Sybilla gushed. ‘I’ve always respected you, but I didn’t appreciate just how hard you worked. I feel like by my career is off to the best possible start now!’

Annabel started to relax. She handed around salmon pancakes which guests accepted with smiles and satisfied murmurs. The tent was busy but not overcrowded. The mood was gay. She received compliments and praise for the cocktails, the food and the decorations. She filled a silver tray with salmon appetisers and took them to Hilary, Patrick and Byron.

‘Look at you, not afraid to get your hands dirty,’ Byron smiled approvingly.

‘We save money on tips,’ Annabel said.

‘What we have here is a woman who knows her money.’ It was Harry. He was beaming and holding a bunch of banknotes fanned like a hand of cards.

‘Three hundred big ones. Not bad for a morning’s work.’

Annabel had her hands full with the tray, but her bag was hanging from her wrist. ‘I’ll just …’ Harry undid the clasp and slipped the money in.

Patrick straightened his back.

‘This is—’ Annabel began.

Harry held out his hand. ‘Harry Barchester. I’m a teacher. Well, aspiring academic.’

‘How interesting,’ Patrick said. ‘What’s your area of study?’

As Annabel tried to come up with an excuse to separate them, she saw Damon coming towards the group.

‘Annabel,’ he was smiling broadly, ‘I thought I’d take you up on your invitation. Don’t tell Mirabella, though,’ he winked. ‘She’ll put a hex on me.’

‘Mirabella?’ said Harry. ‘Not Mirabella Burbage-Jones-Barchester?’

Annabel could feel another disaster coming. In an attempt to minimise the damage, she took Harry’s arm to guide him back to Cameron.

‘I think she goes by Mirabella Burbage-Jones-McRae now,’ said Damon.

Patrick smiled. ‘Harry Barchester, of course. You’re Mirabella Burbage-Jones-McRae’s first husband.’

‘Yes,’ said Harry gruffly. ‘I haven’t seen her since she remarried.’

‘Sorry, mate.’ Damon lay a hand on his shoulder. ‘I didn’t realise, I thought you were—’ He looked at Annabel. Annabel looked at Patrick. Patrick looked at Harry.

‘I think I’m going to go and place a bet,’ Harry said quietly.

‘But Harry—’

‘Excuse me, Annabel.’

He turned and left. On his way out, he collected two bottles of beer. Annabel chased after him, but he moved with large strides and her heels kept getting lodged in the turf.

She wondered if he was going to look for Mirabella. But he walked in the direction of the public area. Annabel’s heart sank. She went back inside the marquee, where Patrick was waiting alone. She walked towards him, but was snared by Byron and Hilary.

‘Any more tips?’ Byron asked, grinning.

‘Yes,’ Annabel said breathily, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘I do have some, but I’ll have to consult my sources. One moment.’

She had left her list with Ant. She told the Hills she would be right back.

‘What just happened?’ she asked herself. ‘What have I done?’

When she returned, Byron and Hilary were alone.

‘My sources tell me it’s Horatio in the third. Where’s Patrick?’

Hilary looked at her shoes. ‘He had to go. He said to pass on his apologies.’

‘Oh.’

‘Poor ol’ Patrick,’ said Byron. ‘He’s never had much luck with the fillies.’

Dani wobbled in the high-heels Clementine had loaned her. The dress was Clem’s, too. It was pretty, but Dani had had to cover it with a blazer. She held a pair of silk flowers. Annabel had PR-ed her into buying them, saying that if she was going to Randwick she absolutely had to wear something in her hair. These were the most understated of the feather and raffia cornucopias being sold for upwards of $200.

‘What are they?’ James asked, as he leafed through the pile of prospectuses in his arms.

‘Flowers,’ Dani said tersely. ‘I was supposed to be going to the races today.’

‘Hey, me too,’ he said. ‘After the meeting, we could split a cab.’

‘Let’s just get through this first. Did you read everything last night?’

‘Of course I did. Dani, it’s going to be okay.’

She huffed. ‘What if they knock it back?’

‘They’re not going to. You’ve done a brilliant job.’

‘They were so mad last time.’

‘Here.’ He handed her the dossiers she had painstakingly compiled. ‘You hand them out — I’m just here for good looks.’ His smile made her feel stronger.

The meeting was in the same stuffy hotel room the Dayton bosses had kicked Dani out of a few weeks earlier. She walked in and took a breath. When she finished her speech they were frowning like toads. Chinless and beady-eyed.

‘Gentlemen,’ said James, ‘I’m afraid we really don’t have a choice.’

‘That’s right,’ Dani said, pulling out Thursday’s edition of the
Financial Review
. She turned to page six, where there was an article headlined ‘Gecko Group Fined for Building Code Breach’.

‘We’ll have to review these proposals,’ one of the toads said.

‘Yes. We’ll let you know our final decision,’ said another.

Dani left the Gecko Group article on the table in front of them. It spelled out the penalties — almost half a million in fines — and they had been ordered to retrofit their building.

‘You did well,’ James clapped a hand on Dani’s back as they exited the hotel. She felt numb. All that work and they had still been stern and severe with her.

‘Come on,’ he said, hailing a cab. ‘Let’s enjoy an afternoon off.’

The atmosphere at Randwick was that of a spring festival, and the air smelled of freshly cut grass. The sun was rejuvenating. Dani could feel it seeping into her skin and restoring her spirit. Everywhere she looked, there were happy groups arranged on picnic rugs. She made her way trackside, where people were leaning against the fence in their finery. She could smell the dirt tossed by the horses’ hooves.

‘Can you hold this?’ She handed James her blazer as she attempted to pin the roses to the side of her head.

‘I didn’t know you were a race-goer.’

‘I’m not normally, but my friend is running a marquee, so—’

‘Abbey’s in a marquee, schmoozing. I’ve never understood the marquees — you can’t see the horses. What’s the point in coming …’ he trailed off, gazing at Dani.

‘What?’ she said, her hands feeling her face for traces of breakfast or a cappuccino foam moustache.

‘Nothing, it’s just … you look really pretty.’

‘Oh.’ She felt herself blush. ‘Annabel told me to dress up. Got any tips for me?’

He had three white betting stubs in his hand for races five, six and seven.

‘There’s no method behind my choices. I look at their form, but mostly I base the decisions on gut instinct.’ He displayed the slips. ‘Delta Vice, To The Wire and Happenstance. For a win.’

‘You don’t take a punt each way?’

‘No, if you’re going to have a flutter, you’ve got to go all the way. All your money on your top pick. That’s the way to do it. So do you have a date?’

‘I’m about to go and meet the girls.’

‘Playing the field?’

Dani folded her arms. ‘Why would you say that?’

James shook his head. ‘Forget it.’

‘No, tell me what you meant.’

‘Dating is like betting. You should put all your money on your favourite.’

Dani did not want a dating lecture from James. ‘There hasn’t been much of a field this year.’

He looked away. ‘Nobody would ever get a chance to show you they’re worth it. You don’t keep them around long enough. One wrong step and they’re in the knackery.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. The men are the ones who don’t hang around.’

‘You never give anyone a chance,’ he said.

She could feel her temperature rising. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said again.

‘You’ve become so cynical and’ — he grappled for the right word — ‘calculating. It’s as though you’ve got some list — they have to be this and they have to be that. You never just look for a nice guy.’

‘There
are
no nice guys,’ she said.

‘All these terrible guys you have dated, what’s the one thing they have in common?’

He paused for effect. Dani was furious now. She raised her eyebrow, daring him to say what she knew he wanted to say.

‘You. People try to get close to you, and you just push them away because you are afraid of getting hurt. You make up reasons.’

‘What would you know?’ she hollered at him. ‘I dated a guy a few weeks ago, and no, he wasn’t completely my type, but I was open to seeing him again. He never called me. Then I ran into him at Emerson’s engagement party and I got up the courage to ask him why. Do you know what he said?’

James was listening.

‘He said I wasn’t hot enough for him. He told me that to my face. He said “you weren’t hot enough for me”.’

Nicky’s comment still burned. It was her proof that deep down all the men who people insisted were misunderstood had souls of charcoal.

‘So he’s an arsehole,’ James raised his voice. ‘Don’t go out with arseholes. Why would you listen to what an idiot like him thinks? He’s obviously a superficial prick.’

She couldn’t say what she wanted to — that he had done exactly the same thing by picking Abbey, and that was what really hurt. He hadn’t spoken the words, but his choices had had the same effect. To him, Dani was fine as a friend, but when it came to picking a mate he went for the head-turner. Her adoration for him, their compatibility, it all meant nothing because she wasn’t pretty like Abbey Kilburn.

Dani didn’t trust herself to speak. If she opened her mouth, who knew what thoughts would tumble out? Everything she felt towards James was confused. She hated him for not picking her, but she longed to be near him. She loved being his confidante, but she couldn’t bear to hear the things he might want to tell her. When she looked at him, she wanted to touch him. But at the same time she found it incredibly satisfying when she was able to maintain a distant and aloof manner. It let her fool herself into thinking that he would never guess how much he had hurt her. She may have been discarded and left heartbroken, but at least there was no evidence of it.

Right now she was annoyed. Instead of answering him, she turned and walked off, playing the conversation over in her head until the words had lathered up into a rage.

Dani could see Clementine and Annabel on the other side of the marquee behind a tide of arms and legs and hats. Feathers and flowers made the place look like an over-stuffed aviary. Annabel was eating a mini pavlova from a paper plate, while talking to a couple, and Clementine was deep in conversation with a man in a light grey suit.

Dani walked to the table of food and inspected what was on offer. She reached for a plate and a pair of silver tongs. James had squashed the last of her good humour. Two women joined her and started filling up paper plates with savoury tarts and crustless sandwiches. They were talking about redundancies at their workplace.

‘The whole management team is in the dark, and there’s a rumour that even the corporate guys are worried.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘James Prior.’

‘How would James know?’

‘James knows everything.’

‘James thinks he knows everything.’

Dani walked away. She couldn’t stand to hear that name. He had been so insolent, so self-righteous. Maybe she
had
dated a lot of men lately. But what did he know about it? He wasn’t facing a man drought. His ovaries weren’t slowly turning into raisins.

‘Daniela,’ called out Clementine. She looked beautiful in a sage green dress that was cinched at the waist, and a cream hat with parsley-coloured feathers. ‘Are you okay?’ she furrowed her brow. ‘You look flushed.’ Dani nodded weakly. Clementine didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press Daniela.

‘This is Cameron Aughton,’ Clem said, presenting the man she had been talking to.

Dani shook Cameron’s hand and felt a stir of recognition. Clem told her he worked for Apple.

‘I started out writing apps. Now I manage acquisitions,’ he explained.

Dani told him he looked familiar.

‘We have met,’ said Cameron. ‘Sort of. You hit that man at Mirabella and Humphrey McRae’s wedding.’

‘The ice!’ He was the kind guest who had handed her a makeshift ice-pack. ‘That was very considerate of you.’

‘That punch was the best part of the wedding.’

‘I promise you, he deserved it,’ Dani said. ‘I don’t normally go around hitting men. How do you know Mirabella and Humphrey?’

‘Humpty and I were at university together. He’s completely brilliant. I take care of the boring side of things. First, it was writing code, now it’s hammering out contracts of sale.’

‘I used to play Pac-Man and haven’t progressed much further in terms of computer literacy.’

‘I was a Frogger man myself.’

‘I wasn’t even very good at Pac-Man. Computers baffle me.’

‘And what do you do for a living? Churn butter?’

‘I’m an engineer.’

‘Not electronic, I’m guessing.’

Daniela was enjoying talking to Cameron. He was goofy and flirtatious, not the sort of man she would normally be attracted to, but genuine and personable. He lifted her mood.

They passed the afternoon in this civilised way until about five o’clock when the fascinators start to droop, ties were loosened and shoes came off.

‘I have to go to Singapore for a few nights, but I’d like to see you before I go. Can I take you out to dinner on Monday night?’ Cameron asked.

Dani had promised to have dinner with her parents. She figured at this stage Gia would probably prefer her to be out on dates, scouting for the father of her grandchildren, rather than at the dinner table continuing to be barren. But she had been a little off-colour lately. Dani had noticed she had been eating less, and, when she called her last week, Gia had just taken a nap. Daniela had a feeling she should go, and told him so.

‘Perhaps when I get back then,’ Cameron said.

‘I’m not blowing you off. I’d really like to — it’s just we do it every week, and lately Ma’s been a bit unwell.’

Even to her ears it sounded like a flimsy excuse. Dani thought about how much Gia wanted to see her settled. She thought about the husband-hunters and why they had originally embarked in this crazy plan. And she thought about what James had said. His words echoed in her head. In a fit of spontaneity, she invited Cameron to come to the family dinner. He accepted — he even went so far as to say he was looking forward to it.

‘How’s the house-hunting?’ Vincenzo asked after introductions had been made.

Dani shrugged. ‘There are a few one-bedroom flats in my price range.’

‘You don’t want a flat, you want land. Buy a house. It doesn’t matter what state it’s in, you can always fix it up later. The land it is on is only going to increase in value.’

Dani pictured the lot in Newtown, the terrace that sat on it, and its wet, crumbling plaster.

‘You should move back in here instead of living with that man,’ Gia shouted across the table.

‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Ma,’ Dani replied. ‘I have a flatmate,’ she explained to Cameron, though he seemed unruffled by her ma’s comment.

Gia went to the kitchen and fetched a big iron pot of sauce. Instead of the standard procession of six courses, she had made spaghetti Bolognese and two sticks of garlic bread.

After the meal, Vincenzo invited Cameron onto the patio for a glass of grappa, while Daniela helped Gia wash up.

‘He’s a nice man,’ Gia said. It was the highest praise a male guest of Dani’s had ever received.

She opened the sliding door and stepped into the night air. It had taken on the softer quality of spring. The nippy sharpness was fading.

‘Cameron was telling me that he spent eight months with his parents after his lease ended,’ Vincenzo said.

‘I bought off the plan, and the work kept getting delayed. I couch-surfed with friends for two months, but the building just dragged on and on. I needed stability, so I moved my stuff in. It helped. The mortgage was a shock after years of paying a measly amount of rent. I think they liked having me home for a little while, too.’

‘You could have Joey’s old room,’ Vincenzo said. ‘It won’t be like living under our roof as a teenager. We know you’re a grown woman.’

‘Pa, I love Ma, but she can just be so overbearing.’

‘It’s up to you.’

Dani picked up her pa’s empty glass and tipped an ice-block into her mouth. If she moved back to Leichhardt she could save more than a thousand dollars a month on rent alone. She rolled the ice around in her mouth, thinking.

‘I think your ma would really love to have you home for a little while. She misses you.’

In the car, Cameron continued to talk about the period he had lived with his parents. ‘It’s none of my business, but if it was my daughter I’d love to help her out,’ he said.

Dani dropped Cameron at his apartment, then drove slowly back towards Paddington, weighing up her options. The Newtown house’s damage and decay had turned from being a burden to a selling point. She imagined ripping up the garden and getting Joey and Silv in on the weekend to help her lay fresh floorboards. She fantasised about sweating over a sander and picking paint colours. She could plant vegetables in the back garden and herbs in the front. It was no longer just a home she was buying, but a project. By the time she got to Clementine’s she had made up her mind. She would move back to Leichhardt so that she could save for a home.