Husband Hunters

by Genevieve Gannon

  She loved that house and collected miniature furnishings wherever she went. Garden sticks and flowers were potted in thimbles and turned into houseplants. A pretty duck-egg blue teacup became a spa for the bathroom. She made plasticine models of items she dreamed up but couldn’t get her hands on. All the while she planned what her real house would look like when she had her own family. This was the fantasy Simon’s rent was helping her achieve.

  He spent most weekends at his girlfriend Liz’s house. Unfortunately, they seemed to be having problems, so Daniela was seeing more and more of him.

  ‘What did you do?’ she asked Simon. He had a thicket of very dark curls and wore black-framed glasses.

  ‘Why do you assume it was me?’ he said, wounded. He scratched one of his legs with a pizza crust.

  ‘Women’s intuition.’

  He folded his arms. ‘She got upset because I said I wanted to sleep with someone else.’

  ‘Simon!’

  ‘She tricked me! We were talking about fantasies. She asked me if I ever thought about having a threesome. I thought maybe she’d be up for it, so I said it had crossed my mind once or twice. She asked me what type of women I fantasised about doing it with. I said nobody in particular. But she pressed me and I said, well, I’ve always been quite curious about Latino women. I’ve never been with one, and generally I find them quite attractive. Very sexy. She got all huffy because she’s clearly not Latino. Told me I should rack off to South America. Then we had a big row. I told her a thousand times that she was the only woman I wanted. Anyway, I thought we’d sorted it out. But then tonight, when I suggested we pick up some Mexican, she flew off the handle.’

  Daniela felt a bit sorry for Simon. While she was sure the argument had been more nuanced than his retelling, it did sound as though Liz was being a touch unreasonable. On the other hand, he should have known better than to admit to noticing that women existed outside of his girlfriend. Particularly since Liz, with her wild blonde hair, big teeth and bony hips, was rather jealous and demonstrably non-Latino in appearance.

  ‘I don’t know, I really like Liz but I feel like I’m under attack all the time. Like I can’t do anything right.’

  Dani reached for a piece of cheesy crust. But then Simon started scratching his toes with the pizza rind in his hand, and she thought better of it.

  ‘She’ll get over it,’ she said.

  ‘Then what? Am I going to put up with this for the rest of my life? Scared to say anything in case it gets me in trouble?’

  ‘This is an easy one,’ Dani told him. ‘She just wants to feel desired. She wanted to talk to you about fantasies, and then got jealous when another woman came up.’

  Simon hollered: ‘But there is no other—’

  ‘I know, I know,’ she tried to calm him. ‘But some women can be very sensitive about sex and their desirability. Just let her know that she’s the one who drives you crazy.’

  ‘She drives me crazy alright.’

  Dani went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The irony of giving love advice to her flatmate before heading to her cold bed alone was not lost on her. When she walked back through the lounge room, Simon had forgotten his pizza-crust play-toy and the TV, and was hunched over his laptop searching the internet for vintage clothing patterns for lingerie. Dani smiled. His choice was perfect. Liz — who made her own clothes — would love it.

  ‘Good idea,’ she nodded encouragingly.

  In bed she sent a text to Clementine and Annabel: Brunch tomorrow? The Bourke Street Bakery in Surry Hills?

  She woke to two enthusiastic replies.

  The Bourke Street Bakery was a Sydney institution. Its unassuming brick shopfront was always being mobbed by young artsy types and fashionable couples carrying babies shod in organic cotton booties. The few precious tables on the footpath practically required property-ownership titles.

  Miraculously, a family was leaving just as Daniela, Clementine and Annabel arrived.

  ‘Quick!’ Clementine shouted and pointed. Dani dived onto one of the stools and flung her jacket across another, saving it.

  ‘I’ll get the food, you guard the table,’ said Annabel judiciously.

  She returned ten minutes later with a tray laden with pastries.

  ‘Thank heavens for small mercies after last night,’ said Clementine.

  ‘Mine was a disaster, too,’ sighed Annabel.

  ‘I can’t believe I ran into Jason. After what he did, I feel like he should be behind bars,’ Clementine reached for a plain croissant before changing her mind and picking up a chocolate-filled one. ‘Sometimes I fantasise about him being tried in court. I picture prosecutors in wigs itemising his crimes. Fraud, obtaining goods through deception, grievous emotional harm. Then the judge locks him up and awards me his Saab as punitive damages.’

  Annabel was watching Clem closely. ‘So, you definitely don’t care about him any more?’ she asked. ‘You’re going to move on?’

  ‘Definitely,’ Clem nodded. This seemed to make Annabel happy. Dani searched her face. She had seen Annabel talking to Jason at the party. Twice. Why was she so concerned?

  ‘Well, my experiment failed,’ Annabel said. She held a coffee in one hand and a crescent-shaped pastry in the other.

  ‘What about that university professor you were talking to — Peter?’ said Dani.

  ‘Patrick.’

  ‘He seemed nice.’

  ‘Yes,’ Annabel said slowly. ‘He’s very interesting. And sweet.’

  ‘A potential target?’

  ‘No, gosh, no. He’s not marriage material.’

  ‘How did you end up, Dani?’ Clementine asked.

  ‘Yeah, why were you texting at two-thirty?’ Annabel asked. ‘Did you get lucky?’

  ‘And by “lucky” she means did a handsome architect ask you out to dinner?’

  ‘Oh no, I just hung around and helped James clean up.’

  Annabel and Clementine looked at each other.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Firstly,’ Annabel pointed her fork at Daniela, ‘you obviously like each other.’

  An uncomfortable thought squirmed to the surface of Dani’s consciousness. It was something she had asked herself over and over since uni. Why didn’t he want to be with her?

  ‘We’re just friends,’ she said. The friends sitting opposite her did not look convinced. Daniela picked at her pain au chocolat.

  ‘You should husband-hunt him.’ Annabel grabbed her arm. ‘He’d be perfect. That’s what this’— she used her fork to gesture at their little gathering — ‘is all about.’

  ‘We could help you,’ Clementine said encouragingly. ‘It’s been fifteen years since—’

  ‘He’s not interested in me,’ Daniela said. ‘Please can we … can we not talk about it.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Annabel. ‘You two seemed pretty cosy.’

  ‘Exactly, I’m like a comfortable old pair of jeans. Men always just see me as a friend.’

  Dani gave Annabel a warning look. Sometimes her friend forgot they weren’t all ex-cover girls. Having men tumble to their knees as they passed was not the experience of most women.

  ‘Okay,’ said Clementine. ‘The party didn’t turn out as we’d planned. I, for one, would really love to go somewhere I’m not likely to run into Jason. I think we should hit the city next Friday night. The financial district. We need to track the men in their natural habitat.’

  They agreed and locked in a date for Friday night; just the three of them and all the men in Sydney.

  On Monday morning Daniela got into her car and turned up The Rolling Stones. She had discovered rock about the same time she had discovered boys. At house parties, standing in muddy backyards or downstairs rooms that smelled of mould and Cheezels, she would shoot pool with the guys and listen to them complain about girls. Why didn’t she do this? Why did she say that? She had resolved never to let them see her as the enemy. She would be Daniela DeLuca: not like other girls.

  But t
hat was in the 1990s when she thought techno and snap pants were a good idea. Now she was starting to think Annabel was right: perhaps she had to start doing things differently.

  At 9am Dani had a meeting with a woman who was exactly like those other girls she had striven to be different to. The ones who hitched their skirts up in the playground, spent lunch time braiding each other’s hair, and seemed to have the boys wrapped around their fingers as tightly as the gum they spun and twisted. The woman was the company’s consultant on interior decorating, and her name was Abbey Kilburn. Dani didn’t hold Abbey’s inexorable girliness against her. She liked working with her, because she was efficient, very good at her job and organised. Abbey came onto the building site wearing high heels.

  Dani opened her office door and immediately felt frumpy. Abbey was wearing a pencil skirt that would be snug on a grey-lead. Her matching jacket plunged to a V between her breasts. Dani was wearing boots, jeans and a shirt so old it was about to come back into fashion.

  ‘Hello, Abbey,’ she offered her hand.

  ‘Dani!’ Abbey cried, and dived in for a double air-kiss. ‘I brought swatches!’

  She swept into the room and spread square slivers of plastic in varying shades of grey and beige onto Daniela’s desk. Then she leaned onto it herself.

  ‘I know the company likes to stick with neutrals,’ she said, ‘but I’ve also got the latest season colours as well, if you want to have a sneaky peak.’

  There was a knock at the door, then James pushed it open without waiting for a response.

  ‘Dani, I— Oh, I didn’t realise you were with someone.’

  Abbey hopped off the desk and adjusted her jacket.

  ‘James, you remember Abbey, our decorating consultant.’

  ‘Of course,’ he rubbed his hand on his pants before offering it up. As she had with Daniela, Abbey ignored the hand and instead went for the cheek.

  ‘James, of course! How are you? You’re the one the builders call “Jenny”, aren’t you? Why do they do that? Is it a little joke? The way people call redheads “Bluey”?’ She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, pulling at it. Though not, Dani noticed, pulling it down. The motion drew James’s eyes to her legs. Daniela folded her arms. The husband-hunters could learn a lot from Abbey Kilburn, she thought.

  ‘Jensen, was there something you wanted? We’re very busy, and I’m sure Abbey doesn’t have time to stand around discussing the etymology of your nickname,’ Dani said.

  ‘It’s so silly,’ Abbey tittered. ‘You’re so obviously not a “Jenny”.’

  ‘It’s short for Jensen,’ Dani said tersely.

  ‘Yeah, I don’t really like it.’ James ran his hand through his hair.

  ‘We’ll have to come up with a new nickname for you, then.’ Abbey clapped her hands like a child who has just been told that they can lick the cake bowl.

  ‘Shouldn’t we be getting back to …’ Daniela stammered.

  ‘Do you have a nickname?’ James asked Abbey. Daniela pouted. He’d never asked her if she had a nickname.

  ‘Well, not really, except …’ Abbey descended into blushes and giggles. ‘For a little while, once they used to call me … oh no, I can’t …’

  ‘Go on,’ James nodded.

  ‘Well, at my Year 12 formal I was wearing this lovely dress with spaghetti straps …’

  Dani couldn’t believe what she was hearing. They were supposed to be having a meeting about paint schemes, and all of a sudden she was in the middle of James and Abbey’s first date.

  ‘… They didn’t have it in my size, but I loved it and insisted Daddy buy it for me,’ Abbey was still talking. Until this moment, Daniela had never noticed how shrill Abbey’s voice was. ‘Anyway, we were all on the dance floor, doing the locomotion and my breasts just tumbled out of it. In front of everyone!’

  James laughed. Dani didn’t know why. It wasn’t a funny story.

  ‘And so they called you what? Janet Jackson?’

  Abbey thought this was hilarious, and demonstrated so by collapsing into hysterics.

  ‘No, no, silly,’ she leaned on James to steady herself from the destabilising effects of his wit. ‘Although that’s very funny. You’re so funny!’ With each word she gave his chest a pat for emphasis.

  James chuckled some more. ‘Tara Reid?’

  This set Abbey off again. She howled, leaning against James. Dani started shuffling the swatches loudly.

  ‘No,’ Abbey tried to regain her composure. ‘No, they called me Titsiana.’

  James bellowed with laughter. Daniela didn’t.

  ‘Yes, well, we’re very busy, James,’ she said. ‘So if you wouldn’t mind—’ She took a deep breath and pushed him out the door.

  ‘He’s gorgeous,’ said Abbey, after he had left. ‘Why have I never noticed before?’

  ‘Really?’ Dani said. ‘Do you think he’s attractive?’

  ‘Definitely,’ Abbey fanned herself with hands. ‘His eyes are like that beautiful green from Dulux’s summer 2010 range: Highland Rain.’

  Daniela gritted her teeth. It was university all over again. She could feel fear swelling inside her. It was like she was watching a volcano erupt and her shoes were starting to melt, fusing her to the ground so she couldn’t escape.

  ‘Well, I think he’s seeing someone,’ she said. ‘He always has a couple of girls on the go. He’s a bit of a womaniser, actually.’

  ‘But nobody special?’ Abbey’s voice was hopeful.

  ‘Yes, now I think there might be one. One in particular,’ Dani lied.

  ‘Oh.’

  Abbey’s disappointment lifted Daniela’s spirits ever so slightly. Enough for her to pick up the ring of swatches and fake an enthusiastic smile.

  ‘I like the Jarrah and the Arctic Daisy,’ she said.

  ‘I like Arctic Daisy, too,’ Abbey agreed.

  Dani pressed her lips into a thin line and pretended to consider the decision.

  ‘How lucky we have the same taste!’ Abbey said.

  She left Dani with a smattering of air kisses and a fistful of order forms. Daniela immediately filled them out, requesting Jarrah for every room.

  Chapter 7 Clementine

  ‘She had the cutest little gap between her teeth,’ Brian Highett said, looking at his wife.

  Clementine sat opposite them in a straight-backed chair, her legs primly crossed.

  ‘It must have been more than the gap in her teeth. Do you remember anything specific she said or did that made you propose?’

  Brian put his index finger to his lip in a sign he was thinking.

  ‘Well, it was—’

  Clem had her pencil and pad poised.

  ‘Maybe—’

  His wife was encouraging him with nods, the way you might with a small child taking his first steps.

  ‘It was that gap,’ he burst into a smile. ‘I just loved that gap.’

  Wilhelmina threw her arms around her husband and kissed him wetly on the cheek.

  After failing the Highetts last week during the browser-history disaster, Clementine had become obsessed with finding a way to help. But Brian’s fetish of having clothes pegs clipped all over his bare flesh was an unusual one. After tearing through her office bookshelf, Clem had gone home and climbed up the shelves of her linen cupboard to where she kept her old textbooks, and run her finger down their indexes in search of inspiration. She had flipped through chapter after chapter barely comprehending what she was reading. It may as well have been written in Cyrillic.

  Clementine slumped to the floor and clutched at her skull. She had done this before. Problems around sexual fetishes, sexual incompatibility and fantasies were common. But the answers were elusive. It was like reaching into a murky pond to catch a fish with your bare hand. She felt terrible for failing the Highetts, and the guilt persisted like the dull ache of a broken bone. She went to bed feeling like a fraud and a fugitive.

  When she woke up she still didn’t have a solution, and nothing came to her in the da
ys that followed before their next appointment. So in the end she decided to try to remind them why they fell in love, telling herself that she would come up with something better next week. It was a cheap trick, made cheaper by the fact that she was taking notes to use Brian’s ‘proposal trigger’ as inspiration for husband-hunting.

  Clementine told herself she was doing it to help Annabel and Daniela.

  ‘Okay,’ she said uncrossing her legs, which were starting to atrophy. ‘You fell in love with her tooth gap. But there must have been something that made you decide she was the one. Can you think of what it could have been?’

  Brian had wispy hair divided into two equal, flat plains on his scalp. Wilhelmina noticed a small strand had slipped loose, and lovingly returned it. Clem felt a brief reprieve. At least her cheap trick seemed to be working.

  ‘The only other thing I can think of is—’

  Clem leaned forward. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Sandwiches.’

  ‘Sandwiches?’

  ‘She makes the tastiest toasted sandwiches. In winter, she puts them into the jaffle iron just as I arrive home. By the time I’m in the kitchen, they’re piping hot, full of cheese and tomato pieces and — What’s that other stuff?’

  ‘Basil,’ Wilhelmina offered.

  ‘Basil,’ Brian said. ‘I remember biting into one of those and thinking, “This is a pretty good thing I’ve got going here.” ’

  Mr and Mrs Highett stared at each other with bulging anime eyes. Clementine pretended to scribble in her notepad as they pawed each other. She contemplated her second failure. A full day of researching why men fall in love, and this is what she had come up with: tooth gaps and toasted sandwiches. Not quite the artillery of ideas she had hoped to take on their night of husband-hunting.

  ‘That’s an hour,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks, Ms Crosley.’ Brian rose and shook Clementine’s hand. His other sleeve was being pulled by his wife. ‘Thanks so much.’

  ‘Glad to have helped,’ Clem said.

  They were already halfway out the door.

  The Establishment was like a tightly packed bull pen. Clementine and Daniela were already at the bar. Clem pulled out a compact mirror, swiped on some lipstick and walked over.