by Kris Webb
Only minutes after Patrick had reluctantly headed off, the doorbell rang. Picking Jack up, I walked down the hall and opened the front door.
Tony was standing there dressed in calf-length navy trousers and a white shirt. He looked even better than I remembered.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Hi.’ Tony smiled in return before looking at Jack. ‘Hello, Jack. Still eating those pancakes?’
I did a quick mental review of my appearance. Old cargo pants, faded black T-shirt and hair washed the day before. Not exactly glamorous, but a hell of a lot better than it could have been.
‘Ah, would you like to come in?’
‘Thanks.’
Tony followed me out to the deck as I tried to figure out what he was doing here. Could he be going to ask me out? I couldn’t think of any other explanation.
I gestured at one of the chairs and he sat down.
‘Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, orange juice?’
‘No thanks, I’m fine.’
I sat down in the chair opposite and put Jack down. Spotting a string of ants he followed them, squashing half of them with his little feet. I turned back to Tony.
‘So how’s the car?’ he asked.
‘Believe it or not, it’s fine now,’ I replied. ‘My mechanic tells me it must have been a loose wire or something. Of course it started straightaway when he got there.’
It had cost me about a quarter of my weekly wage for the mechanic to tell me that sometimes that happened with ‘these cars’.
Over a couple of bottles of wine a few weeks ago, Maggie and I had produced what we thought at the time was a breakthrough theory on cars and computers. We’d decided that there was a universal law that ensured that both cars and computers would only work when there was a technician within twenty paces. How this worked we weren’t quite sure, but suspected that they were all programmed with a hidden sensor that could detect whether they were in the presence of someone who knew what they were doing. My car had obviously rubbed its spark plugs with glee when I turned up.
‘That’s good news.’
Tony looked around. ‘Is Patrick here?’
‘No, he just headed out.’
‘Damn, I had an idea I wanted to run past him.’
Disappointment shot through me. He was here to see Patrick, not me.
Tony thrummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It must be a bit odd my arriving on your doorstep the morning after I meet you.’
Not if you fancied me, I thought. Pulling myself together, I managed what I hoped was an enigmatic smile but which I suspected made me look like I had toothache.
‘It’s just that it occurred to me in the middle of the night that maybe Patrick could solve my problem at work.’
I raised my eyebrows.
‘You know I told you I need to find a new show – quickly?’
I nodded.
‘Well, what do you think about Patrick with some kind of cooking show for kids? Doing things like the pancake scene?’
‘Are you serious?’ I looked at him incredulously, unable to picture my little brother as a television star.
‘I’m thinking we could call it Kids in the Kitchen.’
I was finding it hard to hide my lack of enthusiasm as he rushed on.
‘There are celebrity chefs everywhere at the moment. Why don’t we come up with one for kids? The parents will love it because it will be interesting for them too; the kids will love it because they get to make a mess. We could create a whole new category of television. What do you think?’
I couldn’t believe he was asking my opinion. What would I know about programming for kids? I was still having trouble getting Jack’s shoes on.
‘But Patrick’s not a celebrity,’ I said, stating the obvious.
‘No. What would be ideal would be to use a soapie star, or even a well-known sports personality. Someone with a profile. But there’s the little matter of money. We have none.’
I nodded. Now I was with him. Patrick was cheap.
As if reading my thoughts, Tony rushed on. ‘But I really think Patrick could be great. Jack loved what he was doing yesterday, and you and I thought it was pretty funny too. It wouldn’t take too much time and we could work around his schedule.’
Jack had followed the line of ants to a large pot, which had once briefly contained herbs but now was just filled with dirt. I stood up to move him, thought better of it and sat down.
He seemed to have worked out that dirt didn’t taste too good and had stopped putting it in his mouth. The mess I could deal with later.
‘Well, it’s certainly worth talking to him. I don’t know when he’ll be home but you could call him on his mobile if you like.’
‘Yeah, I’ll do that.’
‘Although,’ I added, wondering how Patrick was faring, ‘it might be a good plan to leave it for a couple of hours.’
I grabbed a scrap of paper and wrote down Patrick’s mobile number. On impulse I added my own.
‘The bottom one’s mine,’ I said, ‘in case you can’t get hold of Patrick.’
‘Thanks,’ Tony tucked the paper into his back pocket and glanced at Jack. Sliding off his chair, he crouched down beside him.
‘Want to see something cool?’
Jack nodded.
Tony reached for the sugar bowl that was still on the table from breakfast and sprinkled a couple of grains beside the line of ants Jack had abandoned. Instantly, the nearest ones made a detour and picked them up, unable to believe their luck.
Jack giggled and reached for the bowl. Before Tony could stop him, half of it was on the floor.
‘Um . . .’ Tony looked up at me and I laughed at the nervous expression on his face.
‘Would it make you feel better if I said that isn’t the first time that sugar has been on the floor?’ I asked.
He grinned back. ‘No, but it would make me suggest we all eat out for breakfast.’
I tried not to look as delighted as I felt at the invitation. This guy was seriously good-looking, not to mention fun. Suddenly the day was looking pretty good.
‘There’s a new cafe in Spring Hill that does great fry-ups,’ he continued.
‘Breakfast?’ I tried to pretend I was wondering if I could fit it into my busy schedule. ‘That’d be great.’ I decided not to mention the fact that Jack and I had eaten hours ago.
‘I’ve got to drop in to the hardware store first. Mum and Dad are coming around this afternoon. Mum can’t believe that I’ve been in my place for so long and still not hung the pictures on the walls. I can’t face another lecture today.’
I laughed. ‘Far be it for me to come between a man and his hammer. How long do you need?’
We arranged to meet at a cafe called Denby’s an hour later.
‘All right Jack.’ I turned to him after Tony had left in search of a hardware store and I’d cleaned up the sugar. ‘Your first breakfast date. We need to find some cool clothes for you. Knowing your mother, there must be some Italian designer numbers in amongst your gear.’
Anita had always dressed well and her ten years in Italy had added a European sophistication that I could only look at with envy. We had already been planning some serious clothes shopping when I visited her later in the year. My eyes stung as I pictured us cruising the boutiques on the Via del Corso, before stopping for an aperitif. Anita, of course, would have had Jack under control so he would be a perfect shopping companion.
There’d been so much I’d been looking forward to talking to Anita about when I was in Rome. Telephone calls were great, but it was all the little things that we seemed to miss. Details that weren’t significant enough to mention or ask about, but that when put together, made up an important part of both of our lives. I still couldn’t quite believe we were never going to have that opportunity.
Swallowing hard I picked Jack up and carried him into his bedroom. Robert had haphazardly thrown clothes, toys and books into Jack’s suitcase
and I hadn’t yet sorted anything into drawers. Burrowing under the top layers, which I’d churned into a crumpled mess over the last week, I pulled out a pair of yellow trousers and a blue and white floral shirt.
I started to unbutton Jack’s pyjamas. Although I was still a long way from competent, I was getting better at dressing him. After only a small struggle I managed to get him into his clothes and a pair of brown leather sandals. Feeling like I’d come a long way, I cheerfully added a navy cap bearing an Italian brandname.
I sat back on my heels and looked at him.
Dressed in his trendy gear he looked just like a tiny little man. I reached out my hand and pushed a brown curl back under the cap, wondering how many times Anita had dressed him in this outfit.
‘You look very cool, Jack.’ My voice came out husky and I cleared my throat. ‘Groovy, as your mum would say.’
Tired of being still, Jack raced off. Catching him, I took him into the bathroom and handed him an open packet of cotton-wool balls. The time it took for him to spread them from one end of the bathroom to the other was just enough for a quick shower. He’d lost interest before I’d finished drying myself and I scooped them back into the bag, wondering if a jumbo pack would buy me enough time for a hair wash.
Keeping one eye on Jack as he pulled the videotapes out of a drawer in the living room, I pulled on a pair of wide-legged red trousers and a white T-shirt. I ran a brush through my hair and gave my lips a swipe of lipstick.
Even though the cafe was in the next suburb, we were ready much too early. Why not walk? I thought. It was a lovely morning and I felt like stretching my legs.
Half an hour later, neither of us was looking quite so bright or cheerful.
Having now been awake for almost four hours and eaten only some sugary cereal and a tiny chocolate egg, Jack was ravenously hungry. A hopeful scavenge through my bag had located nothing edible other than breath mints, so I had nothing to appease him with. To make matters worse, Spring Hill was further away than I’d anticipated and there were a lot of large hills on the way. My black leather mules, which were sensationally comfortable walking around the city, weren’t quite so suitable for pushing a twelve-kilogram lump uphill. After they had slid off my feet for the umpteenth time some way back, I’d given up and shoved them in the basket under the stroller, electing for bare feet.
Jack’s outfit wasn’t faring much better. The navy cap had been hauled off his head and thrown in the dirt before we’d crossed the first road. I’d forgotten to check his hands before I dressed him and he’d managed to smear most of the front of his shirt with leftover chocolate. Worse than the fact he looked absolutely filthy was my paranoia that everyone could see I’d been feeding a small child chocolate for breakfast.
Finally we reached the street the cafe was on and I slipped my shoes back on, trying to ignore the film of black dirt covering my feet.
‘We’re nearly there,’ I reassured Jack, who had given up wailing and was slumped in his stroller, obviously resigned to the fact that I was going to starve him to death.
Denby’s had a wall along the side but was open at the front to the footpath and at the back to a courtyard. I spotted Tony sitting at a table next to the footpath, reading the newspaper.
‘Hello!’ His warm smile raised my flagging spirits. ‘Hi Jack,’ he added as he pushed the stack of newsprint to one side. ‘Sit down.’
‘Thanks,’ I replied. ‘Jack and I walked here. I think it would be fair to say Jack’s hungry.’
Jack had smelt the food and decided on a last-ditch effort to make someone feed him. Wailing at the top of his voice, he threw himself backward in the stroller, struggling to get out. The coffee shop was full of people looking for a quiet breakfast to revive them from last night’s indulgences. As a single unit, they turned to see who had the bad form to bring a child out into this bastion of adult relaxation.
Wrestling with Jack, I studiously ignored them and pulled him onto my lap.
Well, I thought wryly, at least it wasn’t hard to attract a waiter’s attention. I waved frantically to the three who were staring at us. One of them made his way to our table with obvious reluctance.
‘Ah, I need some food for the baby, he’s really hungry,’ I yelled above his crying. There was no answering smile of sympathy and I pushed on. ‘Could you just do some white toast and, ah, Vegemite to start with?’
‘Sorry, madam, we only have fruit toast and seed loaf and no Vegemite,’ he replied unhelpfully.
‘Ah,’ I said mildly, swallowing the countless curses that rose to my lips. ‘I don’t suppose you have any pancakes or doughnuts?’ I tried hopefully.
He shook his head in silence, a look of distaste on his face, which was intended to convey the fact that Denby’s was not a pancake or doughnut type of establishment.
‘All right, just make it fruit toast and jam.’
‘Certainly, madam, although rosehip jam is the only jam we serve.’
‘That’s fine,’ I hissed through gritted teeth.
The waiter disappeared in the direction of the kitchen and I turned my attention back to Jack, who was trying to throw every item from the table to the floor.
‘I think maybe we’ll go for a little walk while the toast is cooking,’ I said to Tony, who looked slightly stunned at the abrupt turn his calm Sunday morning had taken. Standing up, I dragged Jack out of the restaurant onto the footpath.
‘We’ll be back,’ I called over my shoulder.
Jack’s attention was immediately taken by a teddy bear display in a nearby shop window. Following behind, I registered the growling of my stomach and cursed the fact that I hadn’t thought to order some food for myself.
After ten minutes I deemed it safe to return. As I arrived back I noticed that there were no other children at the cafe. Tony put his newspaper down again. I felt a pang of sympathy for him – this can’t have been the kind of breakfast he’d had in mind.
He skyrocketed in my estimation when I saw that beside Jack’s toast there was a coffee for me.
‘Sensational,’ I murmured, sinking into my chair and resisting the urge to drain it in one gulp.
‘I ordered you a latte – is that okay?’
I was surprised to hear a note of hesitancy in his voice. For someone so good-looking he seemed to be surprisingly shy. ‘That is definitely okay,’ I enthused.
I moved one of the chairs out of the way, grabbed Jack and lifted him into his stroller. Of course I’d forgotten to bring a bib, so I tucked a serviette into the top of his shirt, smeared a piece of the fruit toast liberally with butter and jam and thrust it at him. He grabbed it like a dying man and stuck it in his mouth.
It looked as though we would have peace for as long as it took Jack to swallow the mound of toast and jam I piled on the table in front of him.
I glanced at the menu. ‘I think I’ll have the scrambled eggs and smoked salmon,’ I decided quickly.
After calling the waiter over again, I ordered my food and Tony added an order for bacon and eggs.
I turned to Tony, determined to make the most of Jack’s silence. ‘Did you go out last night?’
Stupid question. Everyone went out on Saturday night. Everyone except me, that was.
‘Ah, yeah. I saw a band at the Zoo,’ Tony replied, naming a very hip live music place in the Valley.
How fantastic to be able to see an up-and-coming band, I thought enviously. I ignored the fact that, despite ample opportunity, I hadn’t actually done so for several years.
‘How’s Jack dealing with everything?’ Tony looked over at Jack, who was sucking on a piece of toast.
‘Um . . . better I think, but some days it’s hard to tell.’
‘I bet.’ He hesitated and then said, ‘Do you mind talking about Jack’s mum?’
I shook my head. Anita dominated so many of my thoughts, it wasn’t as though not talking about her would reduce the pain.
‘How long did you know her?’
Maggie had a theory that
guys only asked you about yourself because they’d read in GQ that it was a good way to look sincere and not interested in sex, and therefore was the quickest way to get sex.
But as I told Tony about my friendship with Anita, I didn’t feel it was like that. It was a relief to talk and he seemed to genuinely be listening.
I felt like I could talk to him all day, but it wasn’t long before Jack decided the toast was no longer interesting and crawled under the bar at the front of the stroller. He made a beeline across the footpath towards the traffic. Springing out of my chair I grabbed him and pulled him back to the table.
‘Look, why don’t you walk over there?’ I suggested, directing him into the midst of the tables, figuring that at least he wouldn’t be in mortal danger there. Maybe his cute smile would even charm the customers.
He toddled off in the right direction. Our breakfast arrived in record time and I tried to make witty intelligent conversation while keeping one eye on Jack. He seemed to be making friends and stopped at various tables to have his cheeks pinched.
Having walked the length of the cafe he headed blissfully out the back into the small courtyard that fronted a block of shops. He rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Dropping my cutlery with a clatter, I stood up, knocking over my water glass in the process.
I pushed my way through the maze of tables and chairs until I reached the other side of the cafe. My heart began to thump when I couldn’t see Jack, only settling when I spotted him behind a large potted plant chewing on a sugar sachet someone must have handed him. Wonderful. All I needed at this stage was Jack on a sugar high.
The jolt I’d felt when I thought I’d lost him pulled me up short. It had lasted for less than a second but had given me a terrible fright. Did it really matter if my coffee got a bit cold or if the people at the next door table were unhappy?
‘Come on, you,’ I commanded, leading him back to the table.
I sat him down on the floor beside me and pulled out a couple of books I’d thrown in my bag. Determinedly I turned to Tony and tried to resume the threads of our stilted conversation.
‘How long have you been with the station?’ I asked.
‘It’ll be ten months next week.’ He looked at his watch as though the time of day would make a difference. ‘I can’t believe my contract is nearly up.’