by Lindy Dale
“Do you like them?’ Sam asked again, looking at me solemnly through his clown makeup. I’d never seen him like it. He was positively humble. And his lovely vanilla smell, mixed with coffee, was wafting in my direction. It was making me dizzy. I wanted to kiss him and tell him I loved them but the children were watching through the window.
“They’re... l...lovely,” I stammered. “And who knows, er, um, one day I might have a boy.”
His shoulders relaxed. I took the bundle from him and wrapped the string around the rail of the verandah, happy to accept his small gesture, his attempt to be romantic.
“Thank you, Sam. But I still can’t understand why you’ve done all this.” I looked into his green eyes, searching for a clue, which was difficult to find under his makeup.
He took my hands in his. His fingers caressed my knuckles. “I wanted to mark the specialness of the day.”
Had I missed something again? Adele was always saying I should watch the news or at least read the paper but I had little enough time to get out of bed in the mornings without fussing about current affairs. “What day?”
“Come here, you,” he said, and pulled me into his rainbow clad arms. “You aren’t going to make it easy are you? I’ve never done this before and you’re just gonna make me squirm. I knew you would, it’s one of the reasons I like you so much.”
What in God’s name was he on about? I frowned up at him.
Sam’s shoulders heaved in a deep breath. He tightened his grip around my waist. I felt his fingers lock in the small of my back. “I wanted to mark the day I officially asked you to be my girlfriend,” he said softly.
“Oh.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“Oh shit?”
“Is that a yes? Because I like you a lot, Millie. I don’t think I’ve ever liked any girl as much as I like you.” He dropped a kiss on the crown of my head. “And there’s been quite a few of them.” He added with a cheeky grin.
Oh Sam. How could I tell him that, as much as I was crazy about him, a boyfriend didn’t figure in my life plan? It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him because he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d fool around or tell you things he didn’t mean. He openly admitted he only ever spoke the truth. But I wasn’t shopping for a boyfriend. Well, I didn’t think I was, anyway.
Luckily for me, I didn’t need to say a word. Paige had her head out the door again and was surveying the scene before her. “Is that man a real clown, Millie? Mummy says clowns are dangerous.” She came to stand beside me, her sky blue eyes showing more wisdom than their years. I gave her shoulder a squeeze and scooped her up to our eye level.
“No darling, he’s not real. It’s a costume, like your sun costume. This is… Sam… my... (I looked into his eyes and they were smiling) ...my boyfriend.” It felt nice to say it aloud. It felt good to see the grin spreading across his big red clown mouth.
“Gosh.”
“Sam, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Paige Richards-Shaw.”
Sam took her little hand and shook it gently. Her Hannah Montana ring reflected in his eyes and he squinted for a second before speaking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Paige. I’ve heard so much about you and you’re even prettier in person.”
She seemed delighted at this and blushed a little. I stood, amazed, that Sam’s charm could even extend to the pre-pubescent. She gazed at him quizzically. She seemed deep in thought or confused. “But aren’t you…?”
“Oh no, it was probably that other clown,” Sam laughed, chucking her under the chin. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ll text you later.”
We waved as Sam went down the front stairs and hopped into his car, a funny man in a clown suit driving an expensive sports car.
“Are you sure he’s your boyfriend, Millie?” Paige asked.
“Positive,” I answered. There was a lovely warm feeling spreading through me. Sam was my boyfriend. And underneath his silly outfit and ridiculous ways he cared for me.
“That’s a pity,” she replied, “I like clowns.”
“Me too, Paige. Me too.”
As his car swung down the sweep of driveway, a vision in ecru satin pyjamas, floated down the stairs. Even with her eye mask pushed to the top of her head and her hair sticking out like a golliwog Adele maintained that fetching charm that Brian so loved. “Who was that at the door, Millie?”
I looked at her. I could lie, I thought. It would have been best to lie because I knew she hated me having visitors when I was working but I didn’t have time. Paige piped up.
“Millie has a boyfriend. He’s a clown.”
Well, that was one way of describing him.
Adele raised her botoxed brow as far as it would go. “A boyfriend, you say?”
“Er... um ... yes.” There was no use denying it. She was bound to find out sooner or later. “But I didn’t invite him over, Adele, honestly I didn’t. In fact, I don’t even know how he found out the address. I didn’t tell him.”
I gazed hopefully at her, praying her ‘migraine’ had not caused a rush of hormones that would see her blow her stack.
“And he’s a clown, you say, Paige?” She looked down at her daughter and back to me. Her lip quivered. She was going to hit the roof, I could see it coming.
Paige nodded happily. “He’s very sexy.”
“Paige!”
Slowly, slowly, Adele ran her tongue over her lips. She pressed them together and pulled the tie on her robe tighter. “So let me get this straight. You have a boyfriend .... who came to the door dressed in some sort of fancy dress... in broad daylight... so that awful Jennings woman from across the road could peer through her curtains and tell all her friends at Karrinyup Country Club. Well.”
I quivered in my boots. “Um yes, his name’s Sam. He works at The Lederhosen with me,” I rushed, trying to make him sound as pleasant as possible. I wasn’t awfully convincing.
“And was he here? Dressed as a clown?”
“He bought me a gift.” I indicated the swag of balloons and could see Adele’s impossible eyebrows hit the roof as she read the caption.
“Is there anything else you need to inform me of? I don’t have the time or energy to find another nanny yet, you know, Millie. Good help is so hard to come by.”
“Of course not,” I gasped. “It was a silly gift.”
“From the boy who works at the hotel? Sam?”
How many more ways could I repeat it? “Yes.”
Adele was silent. She tapped her forefinger rhythmically against her upper lip for a second or two. She looked up at the balloons dancing into afternoon breeze that was coming through the French doors.
“Well, I suppose that’s acceptable,” she said, dawdling off in the direction of the kitchen. “But next time ask him to dress in something a little more ‘out there’. If that Jennings cow is going to tell the town about me, it might as well be something juicy.”
I watched her walk away. Now I was totally confused.
*****
A letter arrived the next day, its windowed front and blue crest announcing it was from the bank, its bold address letting me know it was for me.
Dear Ms McIntryre, it read
We are pleased to inform you that your pre-approval application for a mortgage has been accepted. Based upon the figures you have provided and your current account balance, an amount of up to thirty thousand dollars will be made available to you for the purchase of property. We also remind you that you are eligible for the first homebuyers grant to subsidise the amount, increasing the effective amount that you will be able to spend on your property.
I look forward to dealing with you in the purchase of your new home.
Anthony Barry.
Loans Manager
Oh. My. God. It was real. I now had enough funds to make an offer on a property. I was going to change my life. But what about Sam?
11
Before I could say ‘clown’, Sam and I became a couple. There was no way to
describe this turn of events but everything seemed to fall into place, as naturally as me tripping over the carpet rug in the hall. One minute I’d been experiencing a man drought; next I couldn’t get rid of him. Everywhere I went he was there. And even more curiously, every time I requested a roster swap or a night off, my needs were met in an instant. I knew he had a certain allure, which compelled people to love him and do as he wished, yet it was very strange.
We’d been seeing each other for a few weeks when Adele stopped me at the bottom of the stairs late one afternoon. I was on my way for a date with Sam, and running late at that.
“Ah, Millie…?” she began, as if undecided whether or not to continue.
This wasn’t good. She was looking me up and down, her face a mixture of perplexed and cross. I hoped she hadn’t changed her mind about another afternoon-slash-evening off. She was quite changeable when she was at her ‘womanly time’ and the memory of last month’s day spa incident was still fresh in my mind. Shrinking into the banister, I didn’t know whether to pretend I hadn’t heard her or stop and listen.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit dressy for the movies?” she asked, her eyes scanning my outfit critically, her lips puckering as they reached my boots.
Probably, I thought, but after spending the other Saturday in the company of Kirby and Co, I was feeling a teensy bit inadequate about the way I looked. Never one to compete with other women before, I felt the sudden urge to lift my game for I had a notion that Sam might be more comfortable with a city type of girl. My casual attire of peasant tops, denim shorts and silver glitter sandals didn’t seem to fit the bill.
“We’re going to a restaurant afterwards,” I said, by way of explanation. I didn’t want her to think I had no taste at all. “I want to look nice.”
“Hmm,” she mumbled, frowning again, “Well, that outfit ought to do the trick,” and wandered off into the conservatory.
I stood listening to the click clack of her heels down the hall. What in heaven’s name was she on about? What trick? Sometimes I wondered what was in those pills she spent hundreds on at the naturopath. Shaking my head, I took a final check in the mirror and tucked my hair back behind my ears. I looked smart and sexy. Those other girls had nothing on me.
Yeah. Right.
*****
“Glad you didn’t have to work?” Sam winked at me, as he opened the car door for me to get in.
“Yeah,” I said. “It was funny though, I was all set with my uniform on and then Bob rang and said there’d been an urgent roster change. It’s never happened before. I can’t understand it. And Adele didn’t seem to mind either which is doubly bizarre. I’ve never been allowed two consecutive Saturdays off since I’ve worked for them.”
Sam took his hand off the ignition key and looked at me. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again. Then he turned to the road with a little half smile. It was almost as if he knew something I didn’t and it infuriated me when he did. “It’s worked out well for us, then, hasn’t it?”
“Guess so.”
“Anyway, whatever, it’s great you’re here; I wouldn’t want you to miss this. A movie marathon is one of the best ways to spend a day, apart from watching the rugger, of course.”
And with that he sped out into the traffic, no response required.
*****
“What are we seeing?”
“A marathon of three of the best films ever made...” Sam declared, as we arrived at the cinema and headed in.
“Cool,” I said. Any place where I got to sit in the dark with Sam sounded good to me. Despite my fears about his movie choices being polar opposites to mine, I wouldn’t have cared if it were a kickboxing marathon. I was happy simply being with him. It made feel all gooey inside.
“By the way, you look lovely today,” Sam added, “I like that top.”
I’d heard him say it so often to the girls at The Lederhosen I was slightly sceptical, but I took him at his word.
“Thank you.”
I noted that he didn’t seem to feel any of the pressure I did trying to live up to standards I believed he liked. He was wearing his old denims with a rip in the crease of the knee and his usual slim fitting, dark, V-neck t-shirt. At his throat a silver wisp of chain shone. It was his typical Saturday afternoon gear when he wasn’t covered in mud. And from the way girls at the refreshment counter were gawking, I guessed the poor scruffy boy look was popular. He made good eye candy, my Sam.
We walked around the queue and across the star patterned carpet to the double glass doors that led into the Gold Class Cinema. The foyer inside was dark, the ceiling twinkling with fairy lights that looked like a night sky. Clusters of chairs and sofas were dotted through a lounge area. Movie posters decorated the walls but they weren’t like the ones in the regular cinema. They were framed, limited edition, vintage posters. We stopped at the reception and Sam gave the usher our ticket numbers.
“We’re in here?” I asked.
“Yeah. Alex said you’d never been, so I thought… why not? It’s not every day you can get a seat in Gold Class. You have to book weeks in advance.”
I looked at him quizzically.
“You booked tickets weeks ago and managed to keep it a secret?” Wow. More and more, the things he did were showing me another side of Sam. He wasn’t all cocky smartarse. Under that sexy exterior there lurked the thoughtful kind of man that others rarely saw, a kind I found myself warming to. Almost falling for.
“It would have been my last attempt to get you to go out with me, if the rugby thing failed. Lucky really, the well of ideas was running dry.”
“You’re very persistent, Sam.”
“It’s what makes me so lovable.” He squeezed my hand and a gaggle of butterflies began to flitter around in my stomach. I have no idea how he managed to do it but I hoped he was feeling it too. I was falling for Sam, harder and faster than I cared to admit.
After taking our order for drinks and food, the usher led us into the first of the tiny cinemas and I sat down in the recliner chair and looked at the people around us, enjoying their Gold Class experience. Big squishy chairs, side tables to put your snacks on, waiter service and only thirty or so patrons to fill the whole theatre. It was way better than I could have ever imagined.
“This is awesome,” I gushed excitedly, watching as the waiter place a gigantic bowl of chocolate balls and two coffees on the table between us. “Maltesers are my absolute favourite. How did you know?”
“I have ways.”
I had no doubt in my mind he did.
I dug my hand into the bowl and sat back with my clutch of lollies to pull the controlling lever of the footrest. It was stiff but I wiggled it one way, then the other, hoping it’d move. I didn’t want to appear like a total girl in front of Sam and have to ask for his help. And if I was going to be running my own business I had to learn to solve my own problems. I gave it a yank but the silly thing wouldn’t budge. I wobbled it sideways, my gaze sidelong on Sam hoping he hadn’t seen me looking like a dufus but oblivious, he’d settled into his recliner and was tossing Maltesers up and catching them in what looked like some sort of play-against-yourself competition.
Annoyed at myself, I let out an aggravated huff.
Sam stilled. He straightened his seat and leant toward me. “Do you need a hand, Mill’?”
“It’s fine,” I grumbled, struggling with the handle even harder to hide the fact that his hand on my shoulder was making me tingle. “I’ll get it, it’s just a bit stiff.”
Sam snorted. “Aren’t they all?”
Great. Adolescent humour. That was all I needed. And, pulling with all the might I could muster, my hand flew off the lever and knocked Sam’s latte all over his crotch with the added decoration of my handful of melting Maltesers.
“Shit!” I’m not sure which one of us said that but it was closely followed by Sam hollering at the waiter for a towel as he wriggled in his seat and tried to pick bits of Malteser from his scalded gen
itals. “Are you always this clumsy Mill’? Or is it just me?”
“Sorry,” I grimaced. How could I tell him that every time he looked at me I lost control of my bodily functions and it seemed touching intensified the feeling?
“You sure have a lot of accidents for a grown woman.”
“I’m easily distracted.”
“Hmm. Maybe I need to find some other ways to distract you.” He gave me that look.
“Did you have anything special in mind?”
“Oh I have plenty in mind, Miss McIntyre. Now, help me clean up this mess so we can watch the movie.”
Trousers cleaned and drinks replaced—for some reason Sam had switched from coffee to scotch and dry—we relaxed into our reclining recliners (mine had been fixed by Sam) and focussed on the screen. The movie was starting and I had high expectations, after seeing the ads in the Sunday Times. A Lord of the Rings trilogy would be a triple treat—Sam, Gold Class and Aragorn all in one afternoon.
“Excellent movies,” Sam was saying, in between sipping his scotch and tossing Malteser balls into his mouth. “Can’t understand why Bruce was never nominated.”
Bruce? There was no Bruce in Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings starred Orlando Bloom and that Hobbit boy. Desperately, I scanned my memory of the cast members but for the life of me I couldn’t remember anyone called Bruce. Beginning to worry, I racked my brain for other movie franchises that had a Bruce in them. I looked over at Sam, who had discarded his shoes, crossed his ankles and was contentedly flicking Maltesers onto his tongue, then swallowing them whole like a pelican eating fish. He wasn’t going to give me anymore clues, that was for sure. This was meant to be his special surprise.
Then it hit me. Oh my God. Surely, Sam wasn’t referring to Bruce Lee. Walking down the street with a guy who looked hot in a Bruce Lee t-shirt was one thing—if tastefully done—but there was no way on Earth I could sit through six hours of kung fu or whatever the name of that martial art was. No matter what I’d stated previously. Anxious, I looked to the other patrons for signs that they may be fans of such movies.
