Love: Classified

by Jones, Sally-Ann

  “We’ll go in my van, seeing as I’m parked behind you.”

  “I s’pose I might as well get used to it,” I called as I closed the hen house door behind the chooks.

  “You’ll come with me, then, on a holiday to places even the LP doesn’t know about?”

  “Yup!” I laughed, thrilled with life all of a sudden. Concentrating on the chocolate we were about to buy so other, tigress appetites didn’t take over.

  “You might’ve changed your mind by the time you’ve been driven to and from the deli,” he warned me, laughing as he opened the rusty door for me.

  I climbed up, again only too aware of my threadbare, saggy shorts and how inadequately they covered me. He was so close I could smell the healthy musky scent he exuded.

  “Oh, head north. It’s not far. I’ll give you directions,” I said. “Where did you find this van?” I asked, trying to sound casual when my heart was turning somersaults and having to cross my legs tight to keep what was going on between them under some kind of control. I could hardly believe I was sitting beside this beautiful man, that he was smiling at me, having finally encouraged the engine to kick into life. Suddenly we were bunny-hopping down the street.

  “A present from my sister, Daisy, for better or worse,” he chuckled. “Daisy was a hippy-type until she became a power-suited lawyer with a silver Merc. She had no further use for old Matilda and, when I told her I was planning on getting away from it all, she begged me to take Matty with me. The old girl was tarnishing Daisy’s image.”

  I touched the crystals dangling from the rear-vision mirror. “It’s funny,” I said. “I know the name of this van and that your sister is called Daisy, but I don’t know your whole name, only the Magnus bit.”

  “Oh I’m sorry,” he said, sounding genuine. “It was rude of me not to introduce myself. I’m Magnus Winchester.” He took his hand off the steering wheel to shake mine. His grip was firm, the rough warmth of his skin sending more tremors through me.

  Magnus Winchester, I repeated silently in my head. Where had I heard that name before? I decided not to ask him. He’d tell me when he was ready. Or not.

  “Evening Ginny,” Jake called as we walked into his tiny, brim-full shop a few blocks away. Jake looked up at Magnus’ tall form with undisguised interest. He’d never seen me with a man before.

  “Hey, Jake,” I said. “This is Magnus. Magnus, Jake. Jake has the best range of chocolate this side of Switzerland.”

  “I believe Ginny’s a connoisseur,” Magnus said, “So she must be right about you, Jake. What a brilliant place this is!”

  Jake’s shop is indeed brilliant. That evening it looked particularly good, with a new delivery of flowers crowded into the tubs at the door, summer-ripe peaches in a big box next to the till, and the usual hessian sacks filled with coffee beans, spices and nuts. Cheeses, cured meats, breads and pastries of all kinds and home-baked cakes and slices crowded the dark little cave with its worn timber floor boards and old-fashioned pressed tin ceiling. And, in the midst of it all, Jake with his spiky eyebrows, shiny bald pate and wizened frame wrapped in a big green apron.

  “Ginny’s my favourite customer,” Jake said.

  “How’s Josie today?” I asked.

  “A little better, thanks, my dear. She’s ever so pleased with the books you brought her when you visited the other day. She says they almost make being in hospital a pleasure. In fact, she’s home tonight. They’re giving her a break between tests. Why don’t the pair of you pop in and see her right now? She’d be so pleased.”

  “Josie’s Jake’s wife,” I explained to Magnus. “She fell off a step-ladder while stacking tins and she has a deep gash down one leg.”

  “Oh, what a shame,” Magnus said and I could hear that he was genuinely concerned. “All the same, it’s less of an ordeal if you have a book or two. I hope she’s comfortable.”

  “No, she never complains,” Jake said. “Now, come out the back quickly and see her, eh?”

  We followed Jake to the back of the shop and through a door which leads to their house. Sitting in an easy chair, a cup of tea on the table beside her was a frail-loooking Josie. Her leg was bandaged from ankle to above the knee.

  I ran to her outstretched arms and knelt beside her to give her a hug.

  “Oh Ginny, it does me the world of good to see you!” Josie said.

  “Josie, meet Magnus,” I said. “He and I called by for some snacks. It’s so good to see you. How are you?”

  “Marvellous,” she said, looking anything but. She craned her neck to get a better view of the handsome stranger, then patted my shoulder and added, “You’ve caught a beauty there, girl. Hello Magnus. Very nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Josie,” Magnus said, stepping forward to shake her hand.

  I could feel Josie scrutinising my reactions to Magnus and in a second she winked at me and said, “Now don’t you two let us old folk keep you from having a good night. Off you go and enjoy yourselves.”

  “All right,” I said, seeing only too clearly how our short visit had tired her. “I’ll see you again very soon, okay?”

  “Good night and God bless, dears,” Josie said, blowing a kiss as Jake led us back into the shop.

  “What do you think?” Jake whispered anxiously when we were standing near the till. “Do you reckon she looks a little better?”

  “Oh definitely,” I lied. “She’ll be as right as rain in no time, you’ll see.”

  The relieved grin on his face was worth the fib.

  “Now, what can I get you youngsters?” Jake asked.

  I turned to Magnus to see if he’d registered the ‘youngsters’ adjective and he caught my eye and smiled.

  “The usual please,” I said, handing over the money.

  Jake rummaged on a shelf behind him and produced a bar of Swiss milk chocolate. “Good movie?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “And it’s starting soon. We’ll be off, Jake. Goodnight. Sorry to be in such a rush. I’ll pop in tomorrow and we’ll have a proper chat.”

  “Goodnight Jake,” Magnus said. “Nice you meet you and Josie. Oh, and your shop is fantastic. I’ll definitely be back.”

  “Thanks! See you again, then,” Jake called after us.

  I knew that he and Josie would spend the rest of the night talking about me and the polite and pleasant man I’d brought with me. And that they’d both agree that no matter how ‘nice’ Magnus might be, he was still not good enough for their ‘Ginny’. I don’t know why, but they seem to think I’m some kind of saint.

  “Great couple,” Magnus said when we were back in Marry, lurching forward as she crunched into gear. “They’re fond of you.”

  “And me of them,” I said. “Ever since I’ve lived in this street I’ve probably seen them at least once a day. I’m always in their shop for something or other.”

  “Makes a difference, having good neighbours. I miss that, where I live. There’s no sense of community.”

  He parked the van behind my Micra and once we were inside I asked him if he wanted coffee.

  While I made it he brought the glasses in from the verandah, rinsed them, and took the milk from the fridge.

  “You’re very domesticated,” I said.

  “I had a wife once. She beat it into me. And it’s a pleasure to be in your house. I like the way you’ve splashed the colours around.”

  “I’m not someone who liked muted tones.” I handed him a mug and reminded him we had less than five minutes before the film started.

  It was a quirky foreign one with subtitles and we watched it side by side on the squashy sofa. I was so aware of his presence I hardly noticed what was happening on the screen. Magnus, however, seemed relaxed, guffawing heartily in particularly funny scenes. For me, though, the real drama was going on in my little house. I could hardly believe I was spending Sunday night with a man, let alone one like this.

  We shared the chocolate and he ate with such gusto that I wasn’t ashamed of my appetite,
although I didn’t enjoy it as much as I usually did. Another, stronger, appetite, was dominating every nerve cell in my body. As he became more engrossed in the story unfolding on the screen, he was so relaxed that by the time the end credits were rolling, he was sprawled across the sofa, his dark head almost in my lap. I let my eyes feast on the angles and planes of the man who had so unexpectedly ended up in such close proximity. I dared not touch him, not even let my hand accidentally touch his while handing him the chocolate. If I had, I’d have combusted. And I dared not speak because my voice would have been a growl. My knickers were wet and I detected the musky scent of my own arousal. I was sure he could smell how much I wanted him.

  “That was great!” he said, clambering into sitting position when it was finished. He didn’t pull away to the other end of the sofa but stayed so near I could feel his body heat. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a good laugh.”

  He got up and went to the kitchen to turn the kettle on for more coffee. I took the chance to pull a throw rug over myself, to tell myself that I was a fat, ugly, lonely woman and that we was only spending time with me because he felt sorry for me. Because he was going through a brief bad patch. The end of a marriage. That after our ridiculous holiday, if we did embark on it, he’d walk into a nightclub and find himself a twenty year-old as beautiful as him. The kind of woman he deserved. By the time he came back with the coffee, I’d convinced myself I was probably the ugliest woman he’d ever met. Certainly the least desirable. My voice, I hoped, would be back to normal. And I might be able to shake his hand at the end of the night without my lower body going into spasms of unbearable pleasure.

  So we spent the next hour or so discussing the various characters, reliving our favourite scenes. I was relieved I’d seen the film once before or I would have felt like an idiot.

  “I liked the mother best, didn’t you?” he asked.

  I was surprised. The mother was the character I liked most too and would never have guessed Magnus would have chosen her. She was a big, slightly clumsy woman, full of strength and grit. I’d have thought Magnus would have preferred the pretty daughter-in-law, a coquette.

  Alarm bells rang in my brain. Even from this tiny coincidence, my crazy hormone-addled mind could build up a whole fantasy of us being so right for each other. I mustn’t risk getting too close. Copping so much hurt I’d never recover.

  “Is this how you’d normally spend a Sunday night?” I asked, willing him to throw metaphorical cold water over me by telling me he never watched television, that he much preferred being out on the town, on the prowl.

  “I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering, doesn’t this guy have a life? Doesn’t he have friends to go out with? Why has he spent almost the whole day with a total stranger?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Let’s just say for now that I’ve recently got out of a difficult relationship. And that I’ve taken a few body-blows in the last few months. Things have happened that have rocked me.” He took a gulp of coffee and went on, his voice firmer: “Call it a mid-life crisis, call it whatever you like. The fact is, I’m running away for a while, Virginia. And I placed the ad because I couldn’t face going alone. I hoped someone like you would answer it eventually, though I was beginning to run out of hope. You can run with me, if you want to.”

  “I need to know a little bit about you first,” I said. My voice was trembling and I was suddenly feeling something else for him, the feeling I get when Bree’s hurt herself or crying over a dead pet mouse. I gripped the side of the sofa to prevent myself pulling him into my arms. He’d run a mile if I did that, I told myself.

  “Fair enough,” he said.

  His eyes met mine and I thought they were eyes that had seen a lot of life. The bad as well as the good.

  “I’ve been married and I’ve had a full-time job and now both of those have come tumbling down unexpectedly around my ears,” he said. “I’ve got some good mates, guys I was at school and uni with, but they’ve got their own lives. I don’t feel I can go barging into their homes on a Sunday night and ask to hang out with them. They’ve got kids and wives and work to go to tomorrow.”

  He looked into the half-full mug before going on: “What about you? Why aren’t you spending your leave with a boyfriend?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  The way he was watching me, as if working out my body mass index, made me even more uncomfortable. He was lying. But my nipples didn’t think so and I knew that if he had half-reasonable eyes they’d seen how erect they were under the worn fabric of my tee-shirt.

  At that moment, my cat Barney stalked into the room, rubbed up against Magnus’ leg, meowed affectionately and leapt into his lap.

  Magnus began to rhythmically stroke Barney’s fur and I heard the animal’s ecstatic purr, loud and clear. Barney’d never been this loving with someone he didn’t know. Was he trying to tell me something?

  “Barney likes you,” I said.

  “Don’t sound so surprised.” Then he turned to me and said, “There must be someone special in your life. Someone you can trust with your cat and your chooks while you drive off into the sunset with me?”

  He looked as if he genuinely wanted to know so I leaned back against the sofa, telling myself that this is what couples all over Perth were doing right now: communicating. It was something I was good at, at work at least. I could do it now, too, even in my own house with this devastating man. I took a deep breath and… stopped. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t want him to know anything about me. I was a poor sad fat chick to him. One he might even screw, just to be able to joke insincerely to his mates that ‘once you’ve had fat you never go back’. Fuck him. I wasn’t going give him the satisfaction of winning my confidence. So I talked about food instead. My favourite restaurants. Music I liked. Books I loved.

  Even though I held back, we talked until dawn. Who’d have thought? We’d talked all night and now it was another day.

  “I really enjoyed being with you,” he said, stretching his long legs, standing and flexing his broad shoulders. “I can’t believe it’s morning. I honestly thought it was about midnight. I reckon that augurs well for us. We’ll probably be perfect travelling companions. Do you agree?”

  “Yes,” I laughed, suddenly excited and optimistic. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think we would. I expected you to be a nerd or a bikie. Not that there’s anything wrong with either.”

  “Shall I come over tomorrow then? We can work out our itinerary.”

  “That’d be great.”

  But he didn’t come.

  Chapter Three

  I waited all day, not even venturing outside to see Jake because I needed privacy if Magnus called my mobile. I knew I was deluding myself. Why would he bother to make contact with someone like me? I rang Jake to apologise for not paying him a visit and to ask about Josie, who’d been readmitted to hospital. “But her leg’s on the mend,” the old man said hopefully.

  I cleaned out all my cupboards, fighting a sickening feeling of disappointment.

  Magnus didn’t call or ring the next day either. I’m ugly. I’m obese. I’m suburban. I’m boring, I told myself. Why would a man like him, who looked like a movie star, want to go anywhere with a fat frump like me?

  My dreams of travel had come to nothing, as I always half-suspected they would. Magnus must have come to his senses after all. He’d be embarrassed to be seen with someone like me. I remembered my first soufflé – a beautiful thing it was, golden and fluffy like a sun-drenched cumulous cloud. And how proud I’d been when I was twelve of my frothy creation. It had lasted only a few minutes, sinking into a yellow puddle before my parents could see it in all its glory. I felt like that soufflé. Deflated. Worthless. Doomed never to find love or happiness.

  History was repeating itself, I told myself resignedly, as it always did. Memories came flooding back. Playground taunts, the looks I got, even from teachers, if they saw
me tucking into a biscuit or a chocolate. Skinny kids were always encouraged to eat up. Fat ones weren’t allowed anything pleasant. I remembered how a boy in Year Twelve, our final year at school, had asked me to the movies. It was an incident that I’d locked away in a dark hole in my mind until now and I dragged it up into the light again to remind myself of how worthless I was and how ridiculous I’d been to ever believe Magnus had even liked me, let alone wanted to spend long amounts of time with me.

  “Ginny’s coming with me on Saturday night,” the boy had said to his mates in the school yard, not realising I was approaching behind them.

  “Roly-poly Ginny? Can’t you do better than that?” one of his friends had jeered, not caring whether I heard or not. “Better to go on your own.”

  That night, he’d telephoned. “Er, Ginny,” he’d stammered. “Er, listen, I can’t make Saturday after all. My Dad’s grounded me for failing that geography test. Sorry.”

  Now Magnus had let me down too. Fighting back tears, I angrily told myself to get a grip. Dreams never came true for women like me. Several times I picked up my mobile to pour my heart out to Peta but couldn’t do it. Even telling my best friend about what a fool I’d been would be too humiliating. Peta would be disappointed in me. And Peta had enough on her plate without having to feel responsible for a lonely vacationer for the next three months. It wasn’t easy having a wayward teenage daughter, a demanding job and no partner to help out. Fighting the longing to confide in Peta, I put the phone down, heavy-hearted.

  I can’t spend twelve weeks hanging around the house alone, I told myself when I woke on the third day of my holidays. I’d spent the day before dusting, vacuuming, cleaning windows and making my house so clean and tidy it could have featured in my own publication. Several times I considered making chutney from the bright red tomatoes that were cascading from the patio pots. On this morning, I pulled all the ingredients for Josie’s favourite shortbread from the pantry only to put them all back again. I tried to talk myself into making pesto with the basil that had trebled in size in the sun but didn’t have the heart for the simplest cooking. It was even a struggle to make toast and vegemite.