Love: Classified

by Jones, Sally-Ann

  I understood for the first time in my life how it must feel to be addicted to drugs, or to be an alcoholic. All I wanted was this stranger who’d come into my life so unexpectedly, turning it upside down, making me tingle all over, causing me to yearn to talk to him some more, to hear about every week of every year of his life. Even his voice was enough to send shivers of pleasure coursing through me. I couldn’t get enough of just being near him.

  I waved my finger over the map, not caring where it landed. A Beijing slum would be paradise with Magnus at my side.

  “York, Western Australia!” he laughed. “That’s just down the road. Try again.”

  “I’m happy to go to York if you are,” I said. “I’ve never been there, even though it’s only 100km away. I’ve heard it’s a pretty little town with an interesting history.”

  “I haven’t been there for years. Perhaps it’s a good place to start. It’s within Matilda’s capabilities, anyway.”

  “Magnus, we haven’t really discussed arrangements,” I said, the killjoy part of my brain rearing its ugly head again. It kept telling me I mustn’t throw my life away. That I was being too gullible. Too like a stupid schoolgirl with a crush on the best-looking male teacher. “Obviously we’ll share expenses such as petrol and food equally,” I continued. “But what about accommodation? I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable sleeping in the van…”

  “I thought about it all before I placed the ad, although in my wildest dreams I didn’t expect to be sharing Matilda with anyone as luscious as you…”

  He carried on, through my scowl. I didn’t believe him.

  “Matty’s actually pretty comfortable behind the tie-dyed curtain – that purple rag hanging behind the front seats,” he said. “There are two cosy mattresses side by side on the floor, a little cooker and a fridge. Obviously there’s no toilet or shower so we’ll have to stay in caravan parks. And if a bed and breakfast or a shady dell in a forest take our fancy, we’ll rethink.”

  I knew I was going scarlet, picturing lying beside him every night, even if we were on twin mattresses. I knew from bitter experience how I react physically and squirmed as he took in the flush that would be spreading down to my neck, let alone what was happening to my nipples. If Magnus had even minimal experience of the fair sex – and I was sure he was as expert as Casanova – he’d know exactly how much I relished the idea of falling asleep every night to the musical sound of his breathing. I’d imagine all the blood cells inside every part of him taking in that oxygen and…

  “Are you listening?” he grinned, as if he could read my thoughts. He’d poured fresh tea for us and a saucer of milk for Barney.

  I shook my head, still glowing.

  “I was saying we could drive around Western Australia for a while and see how we feel after that. We might want to head east or even overseas. Destination China. It’s a matter of how much we can afford, I suppose, both financially and time-wise”

  “And whether or not you’re sick of the sight of me,” I added, not meeting his eyes.

  “Listen, Virginia,” he said, firmly taking my hand. “Don’t put yourself down. It’s more likely you’ll get sick of me.” He swallowed and coughed. His voice was hoarse and I wondered again if he was coming down with something. “I’ve told you I find you extremely attractive,” he went on. “Not that I’m going to jump on you in the middle of the night. I’m a gentleman, despite appearances, and I want anything that happens between us to be mutual.”

  I felt an idiot for getting all teary and hoped he wouldn’t notice. It was as if I was a character in a romance novel. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. The surreal feeling continued when he said, “Let’s get these dishes done and then go and see Josie. After that we can load up with supplies from Jake’s shop, ready to take off in the morning. By the way, will he mind Barney?”

  “Yeah,” I said, glad of a dash of reality. “He’s great like that.”

  Magnus filled the sink and tossed me the tea-towel that hung on the oven handle. I couldn’t help but feel this guy was trying too hard.

  When we’d finished, I told him I’d pick some magnolias for Josie. Magnus, being so tall, could reach the most perfect blooms and after I’d tied them with silver ribbon we were off in Matilda, rattling across the city.

  The radio station was playing hits from the seventies and eighties and pretty soon we were screaming out the choruses of “American Pie” and “Hey Jude”. By the time we reached the hospital carpark, we were onto “Yesterday”.

  I led the way to Josie’s ward, wondering if Magnus suffered the common phobia of hospitals. He suddenly went very quiet and pale. Luckily, at Josie’s bedside he relaxed. She was sitting up regally in her white bed, a cage over her injured leg. Her fluffy white hair was like a cloud around her face and her gnarled fingers held a Jean Plaidy novel.

  “Ginny!” she cried like an excited girl when she looked up from her book on hearing our footsteps. “Here I am, blessing you for choosing me such a splendid story, and in you come, looking radiant,” she said, holding out her arms for a hug. “Hello, my darling girl.”

  “Hello Josie,” I said, aware that she was even more frail in my arms than a few days earlier. I could feel every bone. “How are you? We’re missing you. But Jake’s doing a great job all the same with the shop.”

  Josie chuckled. “Oh he’s enjoying himself. I think he likes not being bossed around for a change. And who’s this handsome chap?” She screwed up her eyes to bring the tall shape into focus. “Have you brought in another doctor for me? I must say I’m loving all the attention from the young medicos. Why are they always so good-looking?”

  “Oh no, Josie,” I said. “You remember Magnus from the other night? He’s not a doctor. He’s a friend of mine.”

  “Hello Josie,” Magnus said, stepping forward and shaking her hand. “You look very well. Much better, in fact.”

  “I am, dear. Ah yes, now that you’re closer I remember you. Now tell me, since we didn’t have much time to get to know each other last time, are you one of those journalist fellows Virginia works with? She’s always talking about them.”

  “Is she keen on one?” he asked mischievously.

  “She won’t tell me. All I know is, she’s too wrapped up in her work. It’s her world.”

  “Well I hope to change that,” he said.

  “Yeah, we’re going to be fellow travellers,” I said, amused at the way Josie failed to hide her astonishment. “We’re driving off tomorrow in his van, for goodness knows how long.”

  A hand flew to Josie’s mouth.

  “Don’t worry,” Magnus said, “We’re only going to be gypsies for a little while.” He’d been reading the medical notes at the foot of her bed and slipped them back into their folder. “After an adventure or two, I’ll bring her back to you safe and sound. Promise.”

  “You do seem like a nice chap,” Josie mused.

  “He had a willy wagtail eating out of his hand at breakfast,” I said.

  “We’re off in an old van called Matilda,” he said.

  “An old van?” Josie was alarmed. “I hope you won’t break down anywhere and run out of drinking water. Australia’s a hot, dry place, you know.”

  “I think we’ll be right,” he assured her. “I’ll make sure we take plenty of water. And as for any engine trouble, I used to help my Dad with the farm vehicles when I was a kid and I’ve done a crash course in mechanics, just in case. I might need Virginia’s help if we get a puncture, though.”

  Josie laughed. “What fun! How I’d love to be your age again.”

  “You’re young at heart, and that’s what counts,” he said.

  She nodded. “It’s frustrating, though, when your brain wants very badly to do something juvenile and your poor old body lets you down.”

  “I can understand that,” he replied, patting her hand. “But I’m sure Virginia will send you postcards, so you can see all the places we visit.”

  “Oh I hope so! You make
sure she does, Magnus. Ginny’s like a daughter to Jake and me. It must be fifteen years ago since she moved into our street, having just lost her parents in a car accident. It’s as if fate brought us together. Jake and I were never lucky enough to have children of our own.”

  “I’ll look after her,” he promised.

  “I reckon you could do with a little TLC yourself,” she commented. “You’re in good hands with Ginny, let me tell you.”

  “Why do you think Magnus needs tender loving care?” I asked, intrigued. He looked in the peak of health to me, apart from a few times when his voice had gone scratchy. Was he suffering from a mysterious malady? Was this what this holiday was about – a final splash before cancer or some horrible disease claimed him? For the second time in the morning, I had to surreptitiously wipe away tears.

  “I can always read what’s in people’s eyes,” Josie answered enigmatically.

  Driving back to my place, Magnus said, “They’re lucky, aren’t they, Josie and Jake?”

  “Do you mean because they’re still happily married after nearly sixty years?”

  He nodded. “That’s exactly what I mean.” Then he was silent for a while, seeming to concentrate on the road. “I’d like to explain about what you saw at the gallery, Virginia.”

  “You’re going to give me a lecture on the Impressionists?”

  His full-lipped mouth jerked into a grin. “You know what I mean.”

  “There’s no need. Really.” I didn’t want to know about his wife and child. If he was planning on spending time with me, for whatever reason, then let him. The wife could have any man she wanted, with her looks.

  “There is for me,” he pressed. “I don’t want you to think I’m the kind of bloke who’d let you down. If you understood what I was doing there, you’d look at me differently.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I can’t talk about this while I’m driving. Let’s head to the river and sit under a big shady tree.”

  I waited, both curious and afraid to hear his story.

  Finally we reached a leafy suburb and walked to where the water lapped against the yellow sand, a Moreton Bay fig tree acting as a massive umbrella.

  Sitting beside him, I felt another delicious shiver deep inside. It was the beginning of what was becoming an only too common occurrence. I was dangerously attracted to this man.

  “The woman you saw me with was…”

  “Magnus, I can see this is painful for you,” I broke in, seeing the pulse throb in his neck as he struggled to keep his composure. “You don’t have to tell me now. There’ll be plenty of time.”

  “I just want you to know that I’ve been fighting a long, drawn out and well-publicised court case” he said, his voice harsh. “As you know, the court house is just a walk across the piazza to the art gallery. There was a break in proceedings and we felt the need to get out, to see something beautiful, after the ugliness of what we were having to deal with. A nanny had been minding the little boy but…”

  He’d been looking down as he said all this, as if counting the grains of sand in which his bare feet were planted. Then he looked at me and seemed to reach a decision. I could tell he wasn’t going to tell me after all. And why would he? What was I to him? Nothing.

  “I won’t bite you,” he said, probably noticing the way I was clenching and unclenching my hands in the sand.

  “That’s the least of my worries.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you something about you? It’s because of what Josie said.”

  “Ask away.”

  “It’s about your parents…”

  Even now, it’s difficult for me to talk about them, but at that moment I had an unaccountable urge to tell Magnus everything. Not that there was much to tell. “They were killed on the way home from my cousin’s wedding,” I said, chewing a thumb nail. “They were wonderful, kind, happy people and I miss them every day.”

  “I’m sure you do. And you’re young to be an orphan. It must be hard.” He laid a comforting hand over mine and despite my reawakened sadness, a wave of desire flickered.

  We sat for several minutes looking at the water.

  Then Magnus said, “I reckon it’s lunch time.”

  “You’re even worse than me when it comes to food,” I chuckled.

  “Let’s find some fish and chips.”

  We walked along the sand towards a jetty with a shop at the end. He picked up a flat pebble and skimmed it expertly along the water’s surface where it bounced three times. I picked up another and flicked my wrist to make it jump four times before it sank.

  Magnus whistled. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

  “Growing up in a small country town where there wasn’t much else to do.”

  “That’s where I mastered pebble flinging, too.”

  We walked another few steps and he said, grinning,” See, that’s another thing we have in common. And we haven’t started yet.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back, but I did resist the urge to brush the thick fringe of shining brown hair back from his eyes.

  We ate the fish and chips out of the paper, dangling our legs over the water under the pier. Magnus acted like a kid, holding up the last few chips for the seagulls to snatch from his fingers.

  “When I was a little kid, my only friends were dogs, cats and our cage birds,” he said.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “We were dirt poor. My father sold farm manure to city gardeners for a living. Usually I walked to school but sometimes he drove me there in the truck with the manure in sacks on the tray and I was sure I stank of it. Then a relative we’d never met died and left Dad, who was his nephew and only heir, a big sum of money. We couldn’t believe our luck. Dad bought a small farm and I was slowly accepted by my classmates after that.”

  “And then you went to university,” I prompted, remembering him telling me that he couldn’t interrupt his uni-mates’ television-viewing.

  “Yeah,” he said, dropping his gaze as if this was a taboo subject.

  He probably doesn’t want to tell me his profession, I thought. There seemed a lot he wasn’t telling me, but I was uncharacteristically unconcerned. After all, by his own admission he was reeling from recent events. I hoped that maybe in time he’d confide in me.

  We shared lemon-and-lime-flavoured mineral water, both drinking from the same bottle. I loved letting my lips circle the warm bottle where his had been. His lips were luscious and full with a pronounced indent over the top one and a dimple in the square chin under the bottom one. They were eminently kissable, as many lucky women, and one in particular – his wife – would know only too well. But I put her and their son out of my mind and concentrated on how thrilling it was to be doing this intimate bottle-sharing with him.

  Watching the afternoon sunlight dance on the water, however, reality kept swamping my thoughts and I began to imagine the women he’d dated. He was perhaps in his early forties and would have been a devastatingly handsome young man, although I preferred him at his present age, with a few grey strands at his temples and laugh-lines around his mouth. He seemed wise and experienced – and I was, as I’ve said, a virgin. Many beautiful women would have been – and would still be – drawn to him.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he whispered, leaning so close I smelt – again – the clean, male scent of him.

  I blushed to the roots of my hair and spluttered, “Ah…er…I…”

  He smiled. “Forgive me. I have no right to pry into your private musings. I was intrigued, though, by the look on your face. When you relax, you are extraordinarily lovely. Wistful. Soft.I want very much to kiss you, Virginia. Would you let me?”

  I gulped, unable to believe my ears. How could I tell him I’d never been kissed? That I had no idea what my mouth was supposed to do? That he must need thick glasses, if he found me attractive.

  “Is that a no?” he asked, in that thick voice that made me worry about his health.

  When I look
ed up, he wiped the tears off my cheeks with his fingers and licked their tips. “You’re unlike any woman I’ve known.”

  “You can say that again,” I said bitterly.

  “No, no, not in a negative way. In the best way.” He looked away and said abruptly, “We should go back to your place, plan tomorrow and then I’ll go home and throw some tee-shirts, a spare pair of jeans and a jumper into a backpack.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, suddenly excited. My unhappiness had evaporated. Unless all this turned out to be an amazing daydream I’d be on the road tomorrow with Magnus Winchester after only one more lonely night. “I feel like a kid!” I laughed.

  “That’s good,” he remarked, getting to his feet and helping me up to guide me down the rickety steps. “I was worried you might be regretting all this.”

  “No way,” I said buoyantly.

  I woke in the middle of the night, gripped by a fever of fear. What on earth was I doing? My small suitcase lay open at the foot of my bed, the new jewel-coloured clothes folded inside. Jake was armed with an array of tins of cat food and dry biscuits for Barney and sacks of chicken pellets for the girls. I’d visited Josie once more and reassured myself that she was okay. And me, almost middle-aged virginal Virginia Brook was off in a Kombi van with a divine-looking stranger about whom I knew little more than his name.

  What was the alternative? To stay home alone for the next three months? To have to admit to Peta that I had less gumption than a pussy cat? To answer my colleagues’ well-meaning questions about my holiday when I returned to work in April with: Oh I had a great time. I read lots of books, saw heaps of movies, went on Facebook every day to talk to you guys and cleaned out all my cupboards three times. Oh no, I’d add, I didn’t cook at all. I was much too busy for that. Instead of eating healthy food, and lots and lots of it as I usually do, over my break I ate lots and lots of junk food instead because I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to spend time in the kitchen. Worse than facing Peta and my lovely work mates I’d have to admit to myself, the sternest judge of all, that I was a failure as a human being. That I’d been granted this long stretch of paid leave during the most glorious season of the year and had squandered it.