Mad About the Boy

by Maggie Alderson

  But of course, all too soon, there we were outside my house in Holdsworth Street. I didn’t want to say goodbye to him. The moment I got out of that car the question mark of possibility would be gone.

  ‘Well, here we are then,’ I said, wondering whether I should invite him in for coffee. Isn’t that what people did? But it wasn’t like we’d been out for dinner. I’d been mugged and he’d saved me. Pass the etiquette book. But I noticed he didn’t turn the engine off, which gave me the hint he wasn’t planning on staying.

  ‘Well, thank you, James,’ I said, to fill the gap. ‘You saved my arse. I don’t know how I’ll thank you properly …’

  ‘Just keep coming to the gym, Antonia,’ he said. ‘Let me teach you some more chi gong. I know how good it will make you feel. And it’s boring in there when you don’t come in. Just park right outside in future.’

  I smiled at him and leaned across and kissed him very gently on the cheek. On his cheek, but close to his lips. Sort of a two-way bet. He could have moved his head a centimetre to make it a proper kiss. He didn’t. I legged it into the house.

  It wasn’t until he drove off that I realized I had never told him where I lived.

  15

  I went back to the gym a couple of nights after the mugging – the old getting back on the horse thing – and the night after that too. I went regularly, four times a week and no more. I’d been working-out too much before I got ill and I didn’t want to risk that happening again. I also thought some kind of restraint on my visits would help me to cope with my pathetic teenage crush on James, whom I had now mentally renamed Clark Kent.

  Over the next few weeks we settled back into a routine, which calmed me down a bit. He taught me some more chi gong, spotted me on the machines, we chatted a lot and he saw me into my car at the end, but there was no more specs off and there was no more sitting on his knee. Dammit.

  I told myself just to accept it. He was celibate – he’d told me that – and in any case I could hardly expect him to start groping me in the middle of a public place. But judging by the effect being close to him had had on my blood chemistry, I realized I was going to need to get out and find myself a man – a non-celibate one – sometime real soon. I just didn’t know how.

  For the time being I just tried to enjoy James’s company and sneaked pervy looks at him whenever I could. I still had the odd erotic dream about him, but I managed to keep it under control.

  Meanwhile everything else was going swimmingly. Dee and I were now official business partners, all signed up, legal and proper, and we had just moved into our beautiful new shop. It looked absolutely marvellous. With Dee’s injection of capital, we were also able to spread our junketeering net wider than before and we’d had a very successful trip to South Australia, where we had found some more wonderful old shop fittings.

  The thing I liked best was a lovely jangly bell, from an old butcher’s, that rang every time someone opened the door. It was very chummy and cosy and it rang all day.

  I couldn’t believe the increase in custom now we were on a major pedestrian thoroughfare. Turnover tripled in the first month and carried on growing. The rent was double, but we were definitely ahead. In fact we were so busy I almost missed the quiet afternoons I used to spend in the shop doing needlepoint and thinking about nothing in particular.

  When it came time to do our spring windows – acres of daffodils, knitted ducklings and green and yellow china – we decided to have a celebratory dinner in the shop and it was really fun. We had a long table down the middle and twenty of us sat down to a meal cooked by Percy, all served on mad old mixed-up china and table linen out of the stock room.

  Now that the shop was in Queen Street, it was only a minute from the house and Percy rushed back and forth between courses with Hugo in his car to get the next dish. It all added to the general hilarity of the event – which is why he did it, of course.

  Antony, Daisy and Dominic came and got on brilliantly with Hugo – Greg, they already knew, of course. The other guests included Tom and Vita, Vita’s two mummies, Danny Green, a couple of social pages scribes Percy had been quietly cultivating, and the editors of various interiors magazines. Just to be wicked, we also invited Paul, who was still fairly poisonous, but it was worth it, to get back at Nikki.

  To my great delight Dee brought Frankie with her and I really liked him. He reminded me of the stallholders on Portobello Road fruit market, lovable rogues, who would charge you double one day and give you a free bag of bananas the next just because they liked your smile. I wouldn’t have trusted him with my handbag, but he was an entertaining fellow to sit next to at dinner. He was full of stories and anecdotes about his days as a bookie and as a builder. He was one of those people who seemed to have done everything and it was very entertaining watching him and Percy trying to out-charisma each other.

  ‘You’re not bad for a poonce,’ Frankie would say to Percy, getting him in a bear hug. ‘I like you. You’re a good poonce.’

  ‘And you’re not bad for an ignorant old yobbo,’ Percy would reply. ‘Have you ever slept with a man, Frankie? You should try it. You might like it.’

  At one point, they were arm wrestling. Frankie only just won.

  I had wanted to invite Suzy and Roger Thorogood as well, because even though I didn’t see her any more, Suzy had been so kind when Hugo first nuked me and I wanted to thank her. Plus I thought it might start our old friendship up again, I just couldn’t quite let go of that idea. I hadn’t seen her for months and I couldn’t even follow her busy life in the social pages, because she never seemed to be in them any more. Roger was always there, but no Suzy.

  To my surprise, Dee was adamant that they shouldn’t be invited. She was very firm about it, so I decided she had her own reasons and just let it go. Didn’t bother me that much either way.

  I told James all about the dinner, as I did about most things in my life. In fact, I think I rather babbled on when we were together, because it helped distract me from how much I wanted to see him with his shirt off. So I told him all about the great dash that Hugo and Percy had done with the pudding – a Baked Alaska – the night of the dinner, to get it back to the shop before all the ice cream melted.

  ‘Why did he do such a tricky dessert?’ said James, who was spotting me on the pecs machine. ‘If he knew the kitchen was in another building, why didn’t he just do something simple like an apple pie?’

  ‘Is that your special favourite, James?’ I asked, unable to resist a small flirt.

  He nodded. ‘If I ate sugar it would be,’ he said.

  ‘Percy does it for the challenge,’ I said. ‘The chance to create a drama, show off, be the centre of attention and be praised.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said James. ‘We all need a bit of that. That’s ten of those. Take a break.’

  I came to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Yes, we all need praise,’ I said. ‘You could give me some right now for doing those reps ha ha ha – but the thing about Percy, which I really admire, is that he creates it for himself. He doesn’t wait for it to come along, like most of us do. He seeks opportunities to earn praise.’

  I paused for a moment.

  ‘What do you do for praise, James?’ I said. ‘Apart from saving mothers of small boys from horrible muggers. Do you win very important kung fu competitions?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I beat myself.’

  ‘Whips?’ I squeaked. Maybe he was a kinky celibate kung fu weirdo.

  ‘No,’ he laughed. ‘I mean that I set myself goals and then I beat them. OK, that’s enough rest. Twenty this time.’

  I pulled a pleading face and he clapped his hands.

  ‘Come on, chop chop.’

  I got back into my rhythm, but still found it hard to be with him in silence. I was never sure my hand wouldn’t suddenly jerk out and grab his bum.

  ‘But what about praise and attention from other people?’ I said, just to keep talking. ‘Surely you need a bit of that?’

 
‘I honestly don’t think that’s something I’m motivated by.’ He stopped and thought, tantalizingly lifting the peak of his cap to scratch his forehead. I wanted to throw the wretched thing across the room. ‘I suppose I do like it when clients in my investigative work get the result they want and it helps their case.’

  ‘Is it mainly following errant fiancés and that kind of thing?’

  ‘Oh no, that’s bullshit work. I stopped doing that years ago. Now I work mainly for clients I think have a real case of injustice to fight. I don’t do tacky industrial espionage, or filming disability pension bludgers digging the garden or anything like that, just stuff I think will actually help people and the community.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ I said, nodding. ‘See – there’s your praise, James. I think you are a good person. But what sort of thing do you mean?’

  ‘Well, at the moment,’ he said, ‘I’m doing a job for a conservation group. They want to save some lovely old buildings in a really unspoiled part of town and they reckon the developers will stop at nothing to get their way. I’m trying to catch them poisoning trees and that kind of thing. The conservationists just need some hard evidence that the developers are not doing everything by the book, because at the moment the planning people seem to be protecting them with smokescreens of bureaucracy.’

  ‘That’s appalling,’ I said, sitting up on the machine. ‘That was twenty, James, in case you didn’t notice. Sydney’s lost loads of interesting old buildings even in the two and a bit years I’ve been here. It’s a real shame.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ he said, sighing deeply. ‘They’re destroying this city’s maritime history all around us, just to turn a few more filthy bucks.’

  I shook my head. I hated old buildings being knocked down, just as I hated old objects being thrown away. Pretty much anything that had been repeatedly used had a history and was worth saving, in my opinion. I tried to explain that to James, how it was the whole philosophy of my shop. He listened quietly and I knew he understood. He looked thoughtful for a moment as I clambered off the machine and then he spoke.

  ‘Well, if you’re really interested, Antonia,’ he said, ‘you can come with me on a recce. I’m doing one tomorrow night, staking out the site where the conservation group reckon the developers are going to pull some dodgy stunt. Start a fire, or something. I’ve spent a few nights over there already and I’m going again tomorrow to see if I can see anything.’

  ‘What would I have to do?’ I asked, thrilling to the idea.

  ‘Just sit in the car with me and wait. It’s incredibly boring, but you’re welcome to come if you’re interested. It would be nice to have some company actually.’

  ‘I’d love to come,’ I said, wondering if he knew how much I meant it.

  James picked me up from home at 9.30 p.m. I had no idea where we were going but he had told me to wear warm clothes and to bring some CDs, because he was ‘bored shitless’ with his.

  He wasn’t wearing his cap. He had glasses on, but they were different ones. The ones he wore in the gym were big, like aviator specs, these were small oblong ones with black frames. He was wearing a puffa jacket, with faded jeans and a black polo neck. Gorgeous. I felt fantastically shy, but told myself not to be so silly. We were going on an important mission. It was hardly a date.

  Nevertheless I’d had a total crisis about what to wear. I didn’t want to freeze, but I didn’t want to look like a total dag – my favourite Australian word – either. In the end I’d gone for a corduroy skirt, my best knee boots and a lilac cashmere sweater. I had a knitted hat in my bag, in case it got really nippy, along with a Thermos of coffee, some snacks and a carefully selected handful of CDs.

  ‘Hey, Antonia,’ said James, as I got into the car. ‘You are a girl.’

  I didn’t know what he meant.

  ‘You’re wearing a skirt,’ he said. ‘I’ve only ever seen you in your gym kit before.’

  ‘Well, it’s nice to see you without your cap on,’ I said.

  He rubbed his head.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a bit chilly without it, but it can obscure my vision, so I never wear it on a recce.’

  I had to ask him.

  ‘So why do you wear it all the time in the gym? And those horrid glasses. These are much nicer.’

  ‘Do I look different without them?’ he asked, quietly.

  ‘Totally,’ I said, far too vehemently.

  ‘Well, there’s your answer,’ he said.

  ‘You mean you don’t want people to know what you look like?’

  ‘Not more than necessary.’

  ‘But you do really need the glasses?’

  He laughed. ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Just checking. I was just wondering how far you took the cloak and dagger stuff, that’s all.’

  ‘You are a funny girl,’ said James. ‘Just as far as I think I need to. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ I said, feeling rather like Tom, for having asked so many silly questions. I resolved to shut up for a while. That didn’t last long. We were going through the Harbour tunnel when it occurred to me I had no idea where we were going.

  ‘Where are we going, James? I never asked you.’

  ‘I want it to be a surprise. It’s an interesting spot, somewhere that not everyone in Sydney knows about.’

  We drove in silence and it wasn’t until we were well out of Mosman that I realized where we were going.

  ‘Are we going to the old army hospital?’ I asked him. ‘What’s it called – the King George?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘We are. Do you know about it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We took Tom there on a ghost tour in the school holidays, it’s totally wonderful. They’re not really going to pull it down, are they?’

  ‘They want to,’ said James.

  I was incredulous.

  ‘But it’s amazing. It’s one of the most atmospheric and special places I’ve ever been to. It just throbs with history and the passage of human life, and with the big naval connection it’s such a part of Sydney’s development as a city …’ I ran out of words.

  ‘Development’s the word,’ said James, as we pulled off the road and down a dark track towards the old hospital.

  ‘It may be a historical treasure,’ he continued. ‘But it’s on a prime harbourside site and there’s a group of people who think that what’s needed here is not wonderful old buildings and natural beauty, but luxury housing, marinas, hotels, cafés and retail opportunities. If they get their way, it will look a lot like Darling Harbour down here.’

  I was so upset, I had tears in my eyes.

  ‘But they won’t let them, surely?’ I said.

  James sighed. ‘Well, the group I’m working for is trying to stop them and, of course, there are a lot of planning regulations that are supposed to protect places like this, but between all the different interest groups and the red tape, there are gaping holes that things get through. Plus, a huge project like this would create a lot of new jobs and boost the economy. Economic recovery always starts with construction and economic growth gets a government back into power. Something like this goes all the way up and all the way down.’

  We’d come to a locked gate across the track. James stopped and got out. I watched him in the headlights. He got a flashlight out of one pocket and something else I couldn’t see out of another and, in no time, the gate was open.

  We drove through and I hopped out to pull it to behind us. We crept slowly along with James peering out at the dark through the windscreen.

  ‘I’m just thinking where is the best place for us to wait,’ he said. ‘I’d like to try a different spot tonight. We’ve got to be somewhere we won’t miss anyone coming in, but where it wouldn’t be too unlikely for someone who was just doing a bit of mischievous exploring to park. Maybe just here.’

  He pulled over to a kind of lay-by beyond the first large set of buildings. We were under trees, so it was very dark, but we could see right across the site, d
own to the Harbour and to where the waves were breaking by the old hospital. When we stopped, he changed places with me.

  ‘The passenger seat is better for taking pictures. No steering wheel in the way,’ he said. He looked at his watch. ‘Well, here we are then. It’s 22.05 now and we could be here until dawn. Are you ready for that?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll try anything once. Would you care for a ginger nut?’

  The time went really quickly. We were so used to chatting to each other, we just carried on like we were at the gym. He asked me how the shop was going and wanted to know about Tom’s latest catchphrase – which was ‘fandabidozee’, incidentally, something Percy had taught him.

  Then he looked through the CDs I’d brought – after an agonizing selection process – and showed me his prize surveillance equipment, which was a special infra-red camera that enabled him to see and take pictures in the dark. He kept it in a hidden compartment under the glove box. I had a look through it and it was quite eerie how I could suddenly see the buildings clearly and lots of rabbits, happily skipping about, oblivious to the fact that I was watching them.

  To pass the time I got him to tell me stories about his dojo and the Shaolin monks and how they could hang upside down in trees and stuff like that. I loved hearing about it. I made him teach me how to say hello and thank you in Cantonese and to tell me about the best meals he’d ever had in Hong Kong. With the CDs and the coffee and the biccies, we were having a fine old time. We both loved Massive Attack and we played Protection five times in a row.

  We were having a singalong to Kylie – or at least I was – when James suddenly stiffened and turned down the music. He put a hand on my arm to quieten me.

  ‘There are people here,’ he said. ‘I saw a flashlight.’

  All the hair on my neck stood up. It was terrifying. I hadn’t expected to be this frightened. I hadn’t expected to see anyone.

  ‘There, did you see it?’ he said and I had. There was a light flashing down the slope, between us, the morgue and the old hospital. Actually, there was more than one light and they were bouncing around quite a bit.