Her second experience came a few months later at a party that she and Sarah had snuck out of the school grounds to attend. They had arrived just as a round of spin the bottle was starting. Ewen was a neat, good-looking blond boy with gold wire-rimmed glasses. He was a maths whiz, whom Ginny had met at dancing classes. He had been quite determined when he invited Ginny to join in the game. Ginny had been so surprised she had said yes. Ewen led her into the darkened lounge room, lit only by a freestanding lamp covered with a red scarf. In the lurid red glow eight others gathered in a circle on the floor. Ginny was relieved to see Sarah join the group, giggling at something Craig was saying in her ear.
For Ginny the anticipation was almost unbearable as each player took it in turns to spin the empty wine bottle. Nervous laughter would erupt as the bottle ended its spin, pointing at one of the teenagers. Ginny was relieved that for the first few rounds the bottle had pointed away from her. The kisses started out chaste, just a peck on the lips. Then it had been Ewen’s turn. He looked Ginny in the eye and winked, then picked up the bottle and spun it. But Ewen didn’t remove his hand, deliberately guiding it to its stop, pointing directly at Ginny. She felt a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Ewen stood up and – ignoring the cries of ‘You cheated’ – strode confidently across the circle to Ginny. He held out his hand to help her to her feet. Ginny felt her cheeks grow hot as he took her in his arms and bent her backwards. He planted his lips hard against hers. This time the tongue wasn’t such a shock and Ginny was quite delighted when she felt it probing in her mouth. The warmth of his mouth and his tongue filled her senses. The kiss seemed to last forever and Ginny gave herself up to it completely, revelling in the new sensations.
When finally Ewen released her she felt quite giddy. It took her a moment to realise the roar in her ears wasn’t the blood racing through her arteries but her friends erupting in raucous, ribald laughter. She stumbled and they cheered more loudly. One wag called out ‘Ewen’s got a hard-on’ and another added ‘So’s Ginny!’ They all roared with laughter and Ginny felt instantly shamed. She couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. She hated to be the centre of attention. She hated even to be noticed. And to be mocked in this way was the ultimate humiliation. She had no quick rejoinder, no smart, sassy comeback. Her confidence plummeted. She felt once again the outsider and fled to the bathroom. Sarah rushed after her but Ginny couldn’t face her. She felt wretched as she sat in the cold bathroom, ignoring her friend’s concerned voice outside the locked door. Her friends were high on adolescent hormones and alcohol, and the next day no-one really remembered Ginny’s public moment. But Ginny did. Ginny’s budding sexuality took a beating that night and it wasn’t until Tom strode into her life five years later that she again felt the stirrings of desire.
The day that Tom took a seat opposite her, something in Ginny came alive. Tom settled down with his books and tray of food and they ate their meals in silence. The café was busy and noisy with students and teachers filling their trays and finding seats, but no-one came near their table. Ginny felt she and Tom were surrounded by a bubble of energy that excluded the rest of the world. She was acutely aware of Tom’s hands as they handled the cutlery, slicing the food and forking it into his mouth. He had strong, square hands with short, neat fingernails. He chewed slowly and thoughtfully. Ginny wondered what he was thinking. She imagined he was as aware of her as she was of him. She basked in the thought, squaring her shoulders and preening ever so slightly. She felt a charge in the air.
It was to be the first of many such encounters. The good-looking young man, she discovered from the sticker on his book, was Tom Wilson, a third-year journalism student, majoring in politics. He ate at the café every Tuesday and Thursday. So Ginny did too. She worked out what time his class finished and made sure she came into the café just after he had taken a seat. Then she would sit where she could see him. She was never quite confident enough to sit opposite him but always sat nearby, in his line of sight. She was far too shy to strike up a conversation. Instead, as she ate, she would enjoy wonderful conversations in her head, where she was witty and charming and he was attentive and interested. It went on for the whole year. While the rest of the students made lifelong friends, started relationships, broke up and partied, Ginny was busy with her studies, content to enjoy her imaginary affair with Tom.
Every Tuesday and Thursday Ginny would sit in her classes watching the clock on the wall above her tutor’s head as the hand inched its way to 12.30 pm. The last ten minutes were excruciating as she would anticipate the café and seeing her Tom, as she had come to think of him, for their twice-weekly date. She would bite her lip anxiously as she wondered if he would be alone and whether this would be the day their relationship moved along and they spoke. She imagined he was shy like her and that he was taking it slowly, because he respected her and wanted their love to develop slowly.
So it came as something of a surprise when Sarah dragged her along to a party to celebrate the end-of-year exams and Tom was there. Ginny had never imagined seeing him outside their café. He was easily the best-looking man in the room, leaning casually against a door, a beer in his hand. Ginny spotted him and felt a nervous rush. She immediately bolted to the bathroom. Her head was spinning. It was Tom. He was here. Every centimetre of that gorgeous man was out there in the hallway. He hadn’t seen her, Ginny was confident of that. What would he do when he saw her? Her mind raced. Of course it was inevitable. They were meant to be together. It was fate. She looked in the mirror and noted her reflection. She looked pretty good. Sarah had talked her into borrowing a low-cut blue chiffon shirt. It was far sexier than anything Ginny owned. It accentuated her grey-blue eyes, deepening the colour of them. She pulled the neckline higher, feeling self-conscious and exposed. Then she pushed it a bit lower, and a bit lower, revealing just a hint of cleavage. She felt reckless. She felt sexy.
When Ginny walked out the bathroom door into the hallway crowded with university students, drinking and yelling over the loud music, she was beautiful. One man smiled invitingly at her but she sailed past him, on her way to be with the man she loved and who she was confident loved her. The timing was so right. Everything about this night was so perfect.
She moved slowly along the hallway, past couples chatting and flirting. She laughed with good humour when a man knocked into her. She didn’t recognise anyone but she didn’t care. There was only one person she wanted to see – and he was just seconds away. Ginny felt elated, on heat. Her pulse throbbed and her abdomen ached but not in a painful way. It was delicious.
She manoeuvred her way through the throng towards Tom. The crowd parted and she could see him. He was half turned from her, listening attentively to someone in the next room. He was wearing the same crumpled blue shirt he wore to university. Ginny knew all his shirts and this was her favourite. He looked like a rugged cowboy when he wore it with the faded denim jeans and cowboy boots she knew so well.
He tipped his head back and laughed, a deep rich baritone that resonated within Ginny. It was such a contagious sound. She laughed too as she drew level with him. She stood in front of him, looking up expectantly into his handsome face, her eyes aglow with happiness. He was still laughing as he turned his head towards her. He looked down into her upturned face, his eyes piercing her heart. She felt a rush of warmth flood her being, starting in the pit of her stomach and spreading through every cell.
‘Ginny, there you are,’ said a voice from inside the room.
It took Ginny a moment to recognise someone else was talking to her and another moment still to register that it was Sarah. With aching slowness Ginny wrenched her eyes from Tom. Sarah was standing next to him, leaning against the same doorway, her shoulder intimately close to Tom’s.
‘Ginny, meet Tom. He’s lucky to be alive. Someone drove into the back of him as he parked out the front and then they took off.’
Tom laughed again.
‘Tom, this is my best friend Ginny. She doesn’t drive so it couldn’t have
been her.’
Tom put out his hand to shake Ginny’s.
‘Pleased to meet you, Ginny. And I’m glad it wasn’t you.’
Ginny grasped Tom’s warm hand. She started to speak but Sarah continued.
‘Tom figures it was most likely someone coming to the same party but that they chickened out after driving into him and took off. He’s half expecting them to come back and quietly slip into the party,’ said Sarah.
‘Yes, and when they do I’ll be ready for them,’ said Tom in mock seriousness.
Ginny struggled to find something amusing to add. She stood there, her smile fixed on her face. It was an awkward moment. Tom and Sarah looked at her expectantly.
‘Nice to meet you, Tom,’ she finally stammered. She looked into Tom’s face, searching for a flash of recognition. ‘It’s me, Tom. Ginny from the café,’ she screamed silently inside. He smiled politely, but she knew with a stab of heartbreaking certainty that he didn’t recognise her. He turned back to Sarah.
‘I’ll bet it’s that bloke over there with the green jumper,’ said Sarah, tilting her head towards a bespectacled man in a loudly striped, mostly lime-green jumper.
‘Why him?’ asked Tom.
‘I reckon he was blinded by his own jumper and ploughed straight into you.’
Ginny laughed along with the cosy twosome, feeling cold fingers of jealousy clutching at her heart. She couldn’t join in their banter, didn’t know how to. The confidence she had felt just minutes before dissolved and again she felt the outsider. She smiled wanly as Sarah prattled on and Tom turned his whole attention back to her.
Sarah was animated and funny. Ginny felt her own personality ebb away, draining into a puddle at her feet.
It came as no surprise then when days later Sarah had told her she was head over heels in love with a new man – Tom. At the party he had asked for her telephone number. He had taken her to the movies. They had parked outside her house and talked until the early hours of the morning. They had so much in common, Sarah had breathlessly informed Ginny. And ever the interested friend Ginny had listened to her gush, each word another icy dagger through her heart.
That summer Tom and Sarah fell in love. And Ginny had a ringside seat to watch. Her own love for Tom also grew. He was so decent, so kind. Before, when albeit unknown to Tom, Ginny had imagined their deep, sharing lunches, he had remained a shadowy image, reflecting back the Ginny that she wanted to be. But over the years he was with Sarah, Ginny got to know the real Tom, his humour, his gentleness, his kindness. He was a strong man with deep passions, but his love for Sarah was tender and he wore it unself-consciously. But in Ginny’s own private world, she had never stopped seeing him as her Tom. That was just how it was meant to be.
*
The kitten was curled up asleep on the passenger seat when Ginny returned to the car. She had no trouble smuggling it, curled trustingly in her arms, into her apartment block. Once inside, the kitten leapt to life, sniffing around the furniture and boxes, eyeing off Isabel from a distance. Ginny laughed and introduced them.
‘Isabel, meet Kitty.’
*
Tom carried the bags through the door. Sarah followed with a box of fresh fruit and vegetables that they had bought from road stalls along the way home. She stopped at the lounge room.
‘Tom, look, Ginny has left fresh flowers. Isn’t she thoughtful?’
Sarah dumped her box on the kitchen table and walked over to admire the bright bunch of red gerberas on the coffee table.
‘Aren’t they lovely? She really is sweet. I must ring and thank her.’
She looked into the aquarium. ‘And the fish look happy.’
‘What did you expect? She is more than qualified to shake some fish food into a fish tank,’ said Tom.
Sarah laughed.
‘I wonder what she did for the weekend. I hope she went out. She spends far too much time on her own. Are you sure there aren’t any nice single men in your office who might like to meet her?’
‘Forget it, Sarah. We’re not playing matchmaker.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because if it goes wrong we end up stuck in the middle.’
‘What could go wrong? She’s smart, attractive, down to earth, loyal. She’d be a great catch for any man.’
‘Yes, she would. But that’s not for us to organise. She’s smart enough to find her own match.’
‘Yes, but what’s wrong with just putting a few in front of her? For all you know the guy sitting next to you at work could be her Mr Right. And if we don’t ensure that they meet each other they may never know. Would you like a coffee?’
‘Yes, please. The guy who sits beside me has been divorced twice and is devoted to his job. He burps and farts. Ginny would never be interested in him. He’s a dill and really that’s being kind. Newspaper offices are notorious for their broken relationships. She’s far more likely to find someone who interests her in her own job.’
Sarah poured boiling water into two large ceramic mugs. She made Tom’s coffee strong, black and without sugar. Into her own mug she poured a dollop of skim milk and added three teaspoons of sugar. It was her one indulgence. She would read every label in the supermarket searching for stray fat molecules. But she liked her coffee hot, strong and very sweet. She stirred the sugar thoroughly and took a sip. The caffeine and sugar hit her bloodstream and gave her a rush. It felt good.
‘I just feel sorry for her. I’m sure she must be lonely. I’d love to see her fall in love. She’s never really had a proper boyfriend.’
‘Stop worrying about her. She seems perfectly happy with her life, so why not let her be? She’ll meet someone when the time is right.’
Sarah sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘I guess so. It’s just I’m so happy that I have you and you’re so wonderful, I’d like to see her as happy.’
‘What about Marty?’ suggested Tom.
Tom had been mates with Marty since school. After they had graduated Tom had gone to university in Sydney and Marty had moved out to the country to an agricultural college. Recently Marty had moved back to the city, taking a job in the government’s agricultural department. He was an affable man with a hearty sense of humour.
Sarah looked at Tom with amusement. ‘For this country’s top investigative reporter, you don’t notice much, do you?’ she said.
Tom looked bewildered.
*
Just forty metres away Ginny sat at her window, studying Sarah’s thoughtful face through her binoculars as she cradled her coffee mug. She tried to imagine what they were saying to each other. She followed every gesture, every movement, trying to will herself into the room.
In the kitchen Kitty thumped her paw down on a cockroach, severing its spine. She toyed with its limp body, tossing it in the air playfully. Yachts returned home to their moorings in Rushcutters Bay, the sailors exhilarated from a day of racing on the harbour. The sun dropped behind the city buildings as Sarah downed the last of her coffee and Ginny watched.
CHAPTER 5
How come those birds can sit on the electricity wires? Can’t they read the signs? Maybe that’s why they have those red feet. It’s red rubber for insulation.
Why don’t dogs ever get tired? That kid has been throwing him that stick for half an hour, at least. I’m getting tired just watching. I’d like to organise a cartel of loons and take it in turns to toss the stick till the dog dropped. I might suggest that in our next group session. If I’m awake for it. He’s trying me on new fog pills. Stelazine. Supposed to be just like Val ium but different. Doesn’t want me to get addicted to Valium. Ha. That’s a joke. The only one addicted to me taking Valium is him. Makes me manageable, he says. Tears apart my soul, I say.
*
Sarah was in a bad mood when she got home from work. She had fought with a researcher and it had thrown her off balance so they had to do five takes of her stand-up. It made Sarah feel foolish, and she was sure the cameraman thought she was an idiot as she struggled with the sim
ple sentences for the fifth time. She had felt edgy all day. Tom poured her a glass of wine as soon as she walked in and as soon as she tasted it she decided she didn’t want it. She tried to explain to Tom about her fight with the researcher and became annoyed when he just shrugged.
‘Don’t let it get to you, Sarah,’ he had said, summing up his own non-confrontational attitude to the working world.
Sarah felt stung.
Then when they watched the news, her story hadn’t made it to air at all. Feeling like a complete failure she flounced off to have a bath. By the time she reappeared Tom had cooked dinner and she felt guilty for being so bad-tempered.
‘How was your day?’ she asked, as he placed her dinner before her.
Tom had spent the day in court following a protracted murder trial. As a senior feature writer on the country’s only national newspaper he had the luxury of spending weeks on a single article. It almost seemed an indulgence to Sarah who as a TV news reporter was supposed to churn out stories every working day.
She listened patiently as Tom explained the intricacies of the court trial. Suddenly, he changed the subject.
‘I’m having lunch with Hal on Saturday,’ he blurted.
Apartment 255 Page 4