Lessons in Love

by Belinda Missen

  But, if that was true, why did I consider staying home in my pyjamas, getting ready for another round of high-speed knitting to be the height of fashion? The only entertainment at hand would have involved watching a movie the free-to-air channel had already played four times this year. Even Penny was booked solid for a weekend away, only days after her crisis of confidence had exploded.

  ‘Bugger you.’ I tossed my empty bottle in the recycling bin. With the ping of a solid ball bouncing from a demountable, a soccer game hurtled past me in a cloud of dust and moved back out onto the oval.

  ‘Live a little,’ I grumbled to nobody but myself as I slipped around behind Jack’s music room. I picked up some trash and tossed it in the bin on my way past.

  ‘Get out there.’ I walked a gravel path between classrooms and past a small pocket of girls playing clapping games with each other.

  I pulled up outside the main school building, hand pressed against the door. ‘One date, that’s all.’

  I paused. ‘You owe him that much.’

  I yanked the door open, stepped into the hallway and walked towards Marcus and his classroom. ‘Screw that. You owe yourself.’

  Me. I deserved this.

  I peered into his office, which was empty, but hadn’t noticed I’d walked straight past him in the process. Standing by the whiteboard in his classroom, he whistled. With his jacket hanging limp over his chair, he looked resplendent in just his shirt and tie. I decided that I liked the less is more approach. The Marcus Stripped Bare, even.

  I smiled. ‘There you are.’

  ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ He clapped shut the book that had, until then, been spread out across his palm.

  ‘What are you doing tonight?’ I asked. ‘Say, about six o’clock?’

  ‘I’m quite sure that’s dinnertime,’ he said, pretending to be completely clueless. ‘Why?’

  ‘There’s a book launch at Thatcher’s Books. I was going to go, and I thought you might like to come with me. If you fancy, I could book a table for dinner afterwards.’

  ‘Come to think of it, I might wash my hair instead.’ He returned to his whiteboard where he’d been previously writing out maths equations.

  I screwed up my nose and continued to watch him.

  ‘I’m kidding,’ he urged. ‘Want me to pick you up, or meet you there?’

  ‘Meet me there,’ I said. ‘I might get in early for some personal shopping.’

  ‘This is good.’ He smiled proudly, pointing a marker at me. The tips of his fingers were ink-stained. ‘This is very good. I’ll see you tonight.’

  ‘Make sure you wash your hands, won’t you?’ I called over my shoulder as I stepped into the hallway. ‘It’s difficult to get ink out of clothes.’

  I could still hear his laughter as I pushed open the library door, this time with a little more spring in my step. All I had to do was make sure tonight went well. I was nervous, excited, terrified, a true bag of mixed sweets, but I was looking forward to it.

  * * *

  Thatcher’s Books was a beautifully quiet second-hand bookshop at the far end of the main street. It had been there as long as I could remember, with its homely Edwardian design and weatherboards, a second storey that had always remained a mystery, and tiny cottage garden that looked like it had seen better days. Dad and I had spent many afternoons digging about in the books that seemed to be stacked in every corner and on every surface.

  A coffee cart had set up business under the twinkling festoon lights of the carport, selling anything from hot chocolate and coffee, to fresh fruit and raw vegan slices. If Dad were here, and not just at the other end of my phone, he’d be ripping apart his wallet like he’d just won the lotto.

  If health food didn’t take your fancy, there was a chalkboard informing everyone of champagne inside. Anyone care to guess where I was headed?

  It seemed even Thatcher’s Books was moving along with the times. Old Mrs Thatcher had been replaced by her granddaughter, Olivia, someone I vaguely remembered from my teen years. I was sure I’d met her once or twice. Her face was familiar, but I felt like she was more of a summer holiday kid. Come the start of the new school term, she’d disappear back towards Melbourne with most other tourists. She was trim and blonde and, as of the minute I stepped into the store, was sucking on a luminescent green smoothie.

  Looking around, I wondered why I hadn’t been back to this store yet. I may have loved the look of Sally’s home, but this place was my calling. Rooms were lined with period fittings that merged with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A few newer ones were dark wood lined with brass rails and ladders that I could guarantee had been used to re-enact the library scene from Beauty and the Beast when the store was closed. If they hadn’t, it was a terribly wasted opportunity.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Dad’s voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘You’re a little quiet today.’

  Currently in Bordeaux, he’d finished his trek and was reaching the closing stages of his trip. He’d called to update me on his adventures instead of sending countless messages, which I could never be unhappy about. I loved hearing from him. It was such a thrill to know he was out in the world he’d wanted to see as a teenager. We could text each other all day, but it wasn’t the same as hearing his tittering laugh echo down the line.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just popped into Thatcher’s. Remember shopping here?’ I searched the front rooms for the children’s section.

  ‘I remember I always had trouble getting you out of there.’ What sounded like a kettle whistled in the background. ‘How’s everything else going? You know, legally?’

  ‘Everything’s perfectly fine,’ I said. ‘You can say the word, you know. It’s all good.’

  ‘Divorce.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Your divorce. How is that all?’

  ‘All done, all sorted. Onwards and upwards,’ I said. ‘Really, it’s fine. I feel great.’

  ‘Good, good,’ he said. It sounded like he’d breathed a sigh of relief. ‘So, Thatcher’s huh?’

  ‘I’m just here for a book launch,’ I said. ‘It’s a non-fiction piece about children’s literacy.’

  ‘That sounds perfectly up your alley,’ he said. ‘Are you there with someone?’

  ‘I might be.’ I smiled.

  ‘Oh, boy, I know that tone anywhere,’ he teased. ‘Is it a proper date?’

  ‘Uh, yes, yes, it is.’

  Listening to someone else put it into words tickled me. It was my first legitimate date. And I’d put in enough effort for it, too. It was a waxing, preening, washing, and cleaning expedition from the minute I arrived home from work to the second I stepped out the door. Make-up was applied, removed, applied again. There was the catwalk dress-up to see which of my clean outfits got the thumbs up from Penny and, in the end, ran with the emerald-green A-line and a pair of heels. Now, just the thought of tonight sent a warm thrill up my spine.

  I pulled a copy of a childhood favourite from the shelf. ‘Remember reading Charlotte’s Web?’

  Flipping through the first yellowing pages, I reminisced at the voices Dad would use as he read it aloud, pointing out all the illustrations, and lamenting Templeton the rat. The fact I had left my old copy behind when I left Dean tore at me. A lump grew in my throat. I decided there and then I would take it home. I couldn’t leave without it.

  ‘Only seventy-five thousand times,’ he said. ‘You used to love it, all tucked up in your bed in your little pink pyjamas, but I haven’t read it in years.’

  Oh, that sweet, sweet memory. I wiped at my eyes. ‘I’ve just found a copy.’

  ‘There you go, then, it’s a sign from the literary gods.’ While he tinkered with something in the background, I tucked my new book under my arm and moved into the next room. ‘You know, I’m thinking about hiking Machu Picchu in the next twelve months. This trip has just been magic.’

  ‘Really?’ I stopped on the spot.

  ‘You should come with me.’

  I hadn’t travelled since my honeymoon an
d, even then, it had been first class, round-the-world, complimentary champagne and caviar at each stop. Given my recent penchant for getting back to my roots, this didn’t sound like the world’s worst idea. Tall mountains, fresh air, and ruins of lost civilisations. It sounded properly tempting.

  ‘You know what, I should.’ Ironically, I’d landed in the travel section. ‘So, am I looking for books about Peru?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Or just anything that looks fun, really. Maybe I could get myself a job at Disneyland. Probably only as a cleaner but, hey, it’s something, right?’

  ‘Look at you planning things already, and you’re not back for another few weeks yet,’ I said. ‘I am looking forward to seeing you though.’

  ‘When I get back, we’re going to have a big cook-up. I’m going to show you a heap of recipes I picked up over here. Lots of local, traditional stuff. You can guarantee it won’t taste the same, but let’s say we’ll give it a go anyway.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ I admonished him. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

  ‘Maybe you can bring your friend with you,’ he tried.

  ‘You’re so cheeky,’ I teased. ‘Maybe. I’ll ask him. He’s just arrived.’

  Marcus had stepped through the door with the face of a lost man. Dressed down in slacks and a knit jumper, he still looked better than any other man in the room. His eyes darted around until they landed on me, where they wrinkled up into a tight, but wide smile. I’d come to learn that was his happily satisfied face. Here you are, I’ve found you.

  ‘I better stop monopolising you, then, let you get on with it.’

  ‘You don’t have to.’ My own smile grew as Marcus approached. ‘I’ll just tell him to wait. He’ll get over it.’

  Marcus’s brow knitted and mouth popped open in mock disgust, though he still had hint of a smile. He pointed at the rows of chairs lined up in the room. With a nod and a thumbs up, he left me alone to finish up my call.

  ‘Is your mother still coming to visit this weekend?’ he asked.

  ‘She says she is,’ I said. ‘She sent me a text message a few days ago to say the trip was still on and that she’d email me through the boarding pass when she gets it.’

  ‘Yeah, well …’ he sighed. ‘I’ll reserve my judgement until tomorrow then, shall I?’

  ‘Dad,’ I grumbled. ‘Let’s just see what happens?’

  ‘I’ll try and call you in the next few days,’ Dad said. ‘See how it all goes.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ I assured him. ‘Seriously, just go and enjoy your trip. I’ll make sure everything’s ready for you when you get back.’

  ‘All right. I’ll see you soon,’ he said. ‘I love you. Enjoy your night.’

  ‘I love you, too. Bye, bye … bye.’

  I held up a finger to my date. One moment, it said, and shuffled across to the sales counter to pay for my find. If Olivia did recognise me, she didn’t let on, and I didn’t push the point. As I made my way back across the store to Marcus, the anxiety began with a tightly held breath that burst forth into a slight pant. It was followed by tingles, a faint pins-and-needles type feeling that started in the tips of my fingers and travelled along the palm of my hand, wrists and up to my inside elbow until it had wrapped itself around my heart, lungs, ribs, in a show of nervous solidarity.

  ‘Hello.’ I dropped into the seat next to him, placing my bag and purchase on the ground.

  ‘This is a nice surprise.’ Marcus surveyed the room. ‘When does this begin?’

  I pushed my sleeve back. ‘A few minutes. Do you want to talk to Olivia about getting book vouchers for the gift bags?’

  ‘No work tonight,’ he said. ‘Just us.’

  The corner of my mouth curved upwards. ‘I like that.’

  It wasn’t as if Olivia had time to stop and chat to us anyway. Looking back at her, she was currently busy entertaining the author, who stood amidst a crowd of eager supporters and autograph hunters up by the sales counter. I glanced around briefly before turning my attention back to Marcus.

  ‘I’d have thought there’d be more teachers here,’ I commented.

  He made a noise that didn’t agree or disagree with my sentiments.

  ‘Is this okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Is what okay?’

  ‘Tonight,’ I said. ‘Being here.’

  ‘I did say your choice.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, breathlessly. ‘Dinner afterwards?’

  ‘I do hope you’ve booked,’ he said mockingly. ‘The restaurants around here are sure to be teeming on a weeknight.’

  I gave his leg a playful tap. ‘How were your extras today?’

  ‘Ah.’ He crossed his ankle over his knee and gave me a satisfied smile. ‘They asked when Miss Manning was coming back to help.’

  ‘Aww, that’s sweet.’

  ‘You know, it could be something you and I do next year?’ he said. ‘I think we could do great things.’

  ‘How so?’ I asked.

  ‘Maybe … perhaps … something along the lines of expanding the programme?’

  It was in that moment that I decided maybe this wasn’t the best idea for a date. Did we really want to sit here and listen to someone rail on us about teaching literacy to children? I knew I’d likely jump to my own defence if I heard something derogatory about my profession. Like most people, I’m happy to learn, but I didn’t feel like being lectured to, especially if someone was about to tell a captive audience we weren’t doing enough.

  I leaned in to Marcus. ‘What are the odds you want to get out of here?’

  He leaned into my ear. ‘Let’s go.’

  We scrambled quickly, hoping to avoid the disapproving gaze of anyone who’d seen me sneak a glass of champagne earlier. Stepping out of the store and into the mild evening, turning my head towards the sea breeze, Marcus found a spot underneath a street lamp and began digging around in his back pocket. ‘Firstly, that was going to be ridiculous. Did you read the blurb?’

  I cringed. ‘I did.’

  ‘I do plenty of work in the classroom and at home. I don’t need to be pontificated to, although I can understand why you’d want to go.’

  ‘Let us never speak of it again.’ I laughed nervously, hoping I hadn’t completely scotched the night.

  ‘Good, glad we agree,’ he said. ‘Secondly, how hungry are you?’

  ‘Is this a trick question?’ I asked. ‘I’m always hungry.’

  ‘The rest of my cue cards.’ He held up the bent envelope with a jiggle. ‘I’ll be honest, I cheated and read some of them already. How do you feel about grabbing a slap-up burger somewhere and finishing them off?’

  Peering into my handbag, I pulled out my envelope. ‘I’m game.’

  ‘All right.’ He smiled, holding his hand out to me. ‘Shall we?’

  My hand found his and I gladly followed him into town.

  * * *

  ‘Eat in, or takeaway?’

  Ensconced in the warmth of the newest burger joint in town, with its gingham tablecloths, low lighting, and All-American edge, Marcus’s attention was focused on a table just inside the door. Or, moreover, on the two students sat with their parents, and the scandalised giggling that erupted as we walked through the door.

  ‘I think we’ll takeaway, thank you.’ I leaned in to speak to the front of house staff, my fingers still firmly entwined with Marcus’s.

  At that was how we ended up walking the mean streets of Apollo Bay, our arms laden with paper bags of food, tomato dropping out the back end of our burgers, laughing at what was left of our little question and answer game. I’m not sure even our friends thought we’d get so much mileage out of what they thought was a joke.

  Honestly, I wish I’d thought of it.

  ‘But, you know, I don’t think … hang on.’ I dropped an empty bag in a bin and wiped sauce from the side of my hand. We were at the base of Marriner’s Lookout, a point just towards the edge of town. I was weighed down enough by food, I wasn’t carrying garbage uphill as we
ll.

  ‘You think what?’ Marcus prompted. ‘Go on.’

  I sucked on my straw and frowned. ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘You can’t remember? We were just talking about the one thing you love. You know, if someone were to touch you.’

  ‘That was the question?’ I played.

  ‘Yes.’ He followed me as I began the steep climb up the hill.

  ‘You know the answer to that already,’ I called. ‘And if you need me to answer that again …’

  ‘No, no, no, of course not.’ He trudged heavily behind me. ‘Did we decide to climb this hill?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No, we didn’t,’ he argued, out of breath. ‘I don’t teach sport.’

  Arriving at the top of the lookout, we had the rolling deep green hills of the Otway Ranges behind us. Waterfalls and skywalks hidden from view. After such a lively dinner, our trip up the hill had been remarkably quiet, peppered only by the sound of passing cars and the late-night wash of the beach. Ahead of us, a coastline that appeared to have been pinched by the hand of God was dotted with white-foamed inky ocean, Monopoly-sized houses and liquorice strap roadways shone under street lights.

  ‘Let’s switch it up then.’

  ‘You know—’ I leaned into Marcus, who offered me the last of our fries ‘—I don’t think I’ve been up here since I was a teenager.’

  ‘It’s an entirely different perspective up here, don’t you think?’ he asked. ‘I bring Daisy out here when she’s being particularly active. The walk alone wears her out, so she sleeps beautifully.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ I joked.

  ‘That must be why she’s taken to you so easily.’ He slurped the last of his milkshake.

  ‘What do you see?’ I tipped my head in the direction of the town lights. ‘When you look down there, what does it look like to you?’

  ‘I spy, with my malfunctioning eyes … work and leisure, my present and my future. I can see the beach I run along with my football team, I can see the cafés that make great coffee, and the ones that make not so great coffee, and I can see my ridiculous hound flashing her bits around. I mean, honestly, the rate she lollygags around, you’d think she were posing for doggy Playboy.’