Thanks to all those who have contributed posts and emails to this...much appreciated.

 

 

I spend a lot of time these days up in my room, lying on my bed. When I'm not working, I mean. It's not really like me to stay in; I'm more of a bloke for wandering about when I'm free. But these days I seem to have lost my interest in stuff like that. Not sure why.

Maybe it's because I'm still a bit mind blown by all this since I crossed. Not sure really. Actually it hasn't really bothered me too much. My old life was always a bit surreal anyway, if you ask me. I suppose, compared to the others, this wasn't much of a change for me. I hadn't come from years ago or a totally different lifestyle. I didn't even notice anything, don't have any idea when I crossed actually. I had decided to come over here just to travel a bit and use my new qualifications to get me some work. Martin had persuaded me to go back to college and do a Food and Catering Course. Loaned me some money for the fees, as well. He was a good mate to me. Encouraged me to travel. Told me to do it for him.

Must have happened then, I suppose. The plane journey. Took so bloody long that it was like one of those space films; they return to earth and everyone has aged about fifty years. You know the story?

Something drew me to that newspaper advertisement. I wasn't planning on getting a job until the New Year, going to do some traveling and see where I fancied first, get my bearings. I'd been sitting in a café having a coffee when I saw the folded up paper and the advert seemed to jump out at me. It seemed the sort of thing for me but I reckoned that I'd never get it. I didn't have any real experience at that level despite my qualifications. But, I'd thought, what the heck? It would be an experience and I could get to see what the competition was like.

And there I was. 

I clocked her as soon as I pushed through the door. She's been sitting at the bar dreaming, her head resting on one hand, far away. There was something about her, something fragile and sad, like she'd been hurt and was trying to be brave. Maybe I'm crazy but that's how I always see her in my mind. A beautiful lonely girl in an ivory tower. Just like in the fairy tales.

Her head had snapped up as I spoke and I saw her eyes change; she put up her barrier against the world. And then they had seemed to widen almost as if she knew me and was surprised to see me. It wasn't a very long meeting. Enough for me to fall head over heels but for her I think it was just a shock. She had virtually run away, bringing Heather out and disappearing.

Heather was great, really cool and gentle. She interviewed me, showed me the ropes, offered me the job and the room and then as the next few days went on, slowly explained it all to me.

That I wasn't actually real. 

Well, it might explain the way I've always felt about myself, sort of displaced, ya know? I left home years ago, soon as I could really. My parents seemed relieved. I was what you might call a disappointment. The black sheep of the family. Dad's a successful businessman with a string of companies to his name. Mum's a teacher. I have an older brother and younger sister who are the kind of kids that parents want: My brother Jamie is a barrister and my little sister, Helen, studies Veterinary Sciences. Me? I was a handful. Never really settled in school for some reason. I'm not stupid, but I just wasn't interested, always in bother, bit of a dreamer really. I can still remember the endless rows about me making something of myself.

But I just never saw the point. I watched their middle class upper end life and it seemed so unreal, full of empty people who were so stuck up their own arses it was no wonder all that came out of their mouths was shit. I knew I would never be able to hack it in that world, wear the right suit, drive the right car, get a job in the right company, go to the right places, buy a house in the right area, marry the right girl...it just wasn't me. I preferred hanging out with my mates, playing a bit of footy, strumming on my guitar.

I know I sound like a bit of a loser. Perhaps I am. But I had fun. Lived. Earned enough to survive, had my own flat, bought an old car, did it up myself; if I didn't like my job then I left it and moved on. When I used to meet my old school mates from time to time, they tried to make me feel a failure with their fast sports cars and upscale lives. But I saw the cost. They worked round the clock, getting burned out, their youths wasted in air conditioned offices or boardrooms. I used to wonder if they ever just had the time to sit and watch the world and if they had the faintest idea what they wanted out of life.

Not that I did really. I wandered into the food business. They always need someone to wash dishes or serve coffee. It doesn't pay much but you get food and can sleep late in the mornings; I never was one for getting up early. I got interested in cooking, picked a few things up as I went along and finally got some commis chef experience. You learn most from watching others in this business but I've since done a real catering course and can turn my hand to most things now. If you asked me now if I had an ambition, then I would say yes. I'd like to open a real restaurant one day, not too flashy but a warm and friendly place with good food and an intimate ambience. But it costs money to set something like that up and I doubt I'll ever have enough.

I thought of joining one of the big hotels and doing the full apprenticeship, working for one of those prima donna celebrity chefs, maybe even work up to sous chef, build up my CV. That would be the wise move. But I know I wouldn't hack the pressure or the intense competition. I don't like people on my back all the time. It's not that I'm lazy or run away from challenge - but I won't lick arse.

And that is why I am where I am today. Twenty six and still about as far from knowing where I'm heading in life as I was ten years ago. My Dad used to say I had no backbone; my Mum that I had no drive or push. Maybe they're right. But whatever I am, it's all me. I'm not interested in following the pack.

Take that thing with me and Martin. It was a pretty odd sort of friendship. Some people thought we were gay. Two blokes, an introverted blind man and a bit of a hoon like me? What else could we be hanging together for other than Martin wanting a bit of young meat? I took no notice of the comments. People can think what they like. They usually do anyway. Martin was interesting. Different. Kind of sad. He needed taking out of himself. I was cool with that. I had the time, so why not spend some with him? He was good to me too. Taught me things. He made me laugh sometimes with his odd ways. Like that time he brought me in and gave me that glass of port. Who drinks port these days? But I kind of liked his way. He was always himself, warts and all. I suppose it was because he was blind. He couldn't do what the rest of us do and learn our behaviour from others. He is unique. Entirely self-created without an image of what a man should be.

Well, not a visual one anyway.

I like it here. I suppose you could say it's the first place I've ever found where people just accept me as I am and don't seek to change me into something that I'm not. Because, I may be pretty easygoing on the whole but I won't be something other people want me to be. Well, mostly anyway. I have made a few mistakes, to put it mildly, but I'm only human. Everyone makes mistakes...just not all the time.

 

She's the kind of woman I go for. I always like girls who are tall and skinny. She's got a great sense of humour and can laugh at herself. I like that too. She's kind and thoughtful but she doesn't fuss over people. But you know she would have time for you if you needed anything. I think about her a lot. It's like she's here for us but no one's there for her. That's how I see it anyway.

Of course, when I think of her, it isn't always like that. She does it for me in other ways. I'm a healthy young male - and it's been a while, you know? I'd hate it if she knew some of the thoughts I have about her. Male fantasy, huh? It's fairly lurid and obvious. I know women would probably think it demeaning that we fancy them and then lie in bed wanting to treat them like some bimbo in a porno film but it's just the way we are. Doesn't mean I respect her less. I wonder if women know that things they do without realizing it can drive blokes wild?

I live in the same house. See her running about in her underwear or skimpy pyjamas. Watch her as she lies sprawled out watching TV, her hair all mussed up, bare legs hanging over the arm of the chair, little perky nipples outlined in a T-shirt, sweet little bum stuck in front of my face as she crawls about on her hands and knees looking for something in a cupboard. I watch the way her mouth moves as she talks or laughs or eats or smiles...I try and read the many expressions in her eyes...how her hands flutter about when she talks and the delicate way her fingers move....sometimes she makes me sweat. She makes me weak with longing. I just wish she would notice me as a man and not just as Andy, this kid who runs about fetching and carrying and helping out.

She's always so grateful. I don't want her to be grateful. I want her to stop and see me. The way she looks at other men. I've seen her when she doesn't know that she's being observed and I've noticed the affect certain men have on her. Terry Thorne. She puts a cloak about her when he's around. I think she's in love with him. That's what others say anyway. That she has always had this unrequited thing for him ever since he showed up.

What's wrong with him?

Maximus affects her too but in a different way. They both seem awkward in each other's company, as though they dislike each other, but I think there's a reason for it. I think they've been lovers. Is that the kind of man she's looking for? Some hopes for me, then, hey?

When I arrived she was seeing some guy called Mick. I heard he was a bit of a tough guy. Senior police chief or something. She never brought him to the pub. One night I was out the back having a cigarette on my break, just leaning against the wall at the back of the car park. This car pulled up and she got out followed by this bloke. I watched her kiss him softly but it wasn't really a passionate kiss, more affectionate. He caught her arm and pulled her back, thrusting her against his car and kissing her harder. This time he was a bit more crude, mauling her. I shouldn't have watched but I couldn't take my eyes off.

I had this feeling she wasn't responding. Like she was letting him do it but not enjoying it. Then he pulled back and whispered something to her. She shook her head and they talked quietly for a few moments. But something she said must have annoyed him. He raised his voice.

"Look....what's your game? We've been going out for a couple of weeks. I've been the perfect gentleman. Wined and dined you, taken you to shows, even the bloody art gallery...what is this? A relationship or what?"

"You mean, you've spent enough money on me and now you expect to claim it back?" I heard her retort sarcastically. He swore.

"No...of course not...I respect your right to say no and all that crap but....Christ, you're a woman and I'm a man. People have sex when they're dating. It's kind of normal..."

"I'm not ready, Mick....I just need time...."

"Not ready? What are you? A nun? It's not like you haven't done it before..."

She was angry now. "That is not the point! I don't want or need some meaningless shag. I'm not a kid anymore. Mick, you are a nice guy...a really nice guy...but you're not interested in any more than fun and games with me..."

"What's wrong with that? A bloke got to offer you a ring to get in your knickers?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Of course not....but....Mick, I'm tired of having relationships that are going nowhere from day one. I want to feel that when I am with a man now there is a least a chance of something real with him. You just want to be free and enjoy a healthy sex life with a lot of women. And there's nothing wrong with that. But I don't want to be another notch on some bloke's bedpost. Not any more..."

"Uma...I really like you....this isn't just some casual fuck..."

He grabbed her and tried to kiss her; this time she backed off. "Stop it, Mick. Let's go inside and have a drink in the bar. Meet my friends..."

"I don't want to meet them. I want to take you upstairs and go to bed with you. Come on...don't be so fucking stupid...you want it to...you know you do...."

I didn't like the way he was pushing her. She'd said no and given her reasons. He should have accepted defeat. I moved off the wall and coughed; they both looked around.

"You all right, Uma? He bothering you?"

Mick gave me a look like he wanted to rip my head off. But he said nothing, just ran his hand down his face and exhaled.

"No...s'okay...he's just leaving....See you again, Mick?"

"I don't think so. I think you've made your feelings pretty clear...."

He yanked on his car door, jumped inside and drove off in a squeal of brakes. Uma stood and watched him go thoughtfully and then turned back to me.

"He was out of order..." I began.

She gave me a rather intense look but then smiled and shrugged her shoulders, dragging the light shawl around her against the chill of the night. "He didn't mean any harm...it was just a difference of opinion......but thanks for asking, hey? I appreciate it..."

She put her hand on my arm and squeezed as she went past me to go back into the pub; I stayed out there in the cold, leaning against the wall and watching the dark sky above. I wanted her so much it was beginning to mess up my head.

That night I couldn't get the image of her out of my mind as she had stood in the car park in a flimsy dress of some ghost-like fabric, all wrong for the night, all right for her body. I rewound the scene. It was like some big time Hollywood movie. Let's face it, I've seen enough of them lately. All of Crowe's stuff. Somehow my fantasy took snippets from them and reworked them into a whole new script. Andy Compton in the starring role, having managed to acquire a whole new set of seductive skills, courtesy of his bigger, tougher, hard men alter-egos. She likes men like that. In my head I was. And I had the talk as well.

 

 

I began to get a reputation for being a bit of shoulder. The other women seem to regard me as neutral ground- a safe man to confide in. I suppose I should be flattered. I like listening to people and being there for them. Mostly they just want to talk and that helps them see their way through things. The guy behind the bar is just an ear. Scarlet, Carol, Sheila, Marie...good friends...have a laugh...listen to them grumble about their men. Offer a few pearls of wisdom. They are so in love with these guys. It must be amazing to have a woman feel like that about you. Not just any woman either. The woman that you want. I've seen how they respond. Real hard cases like Hando, Grant, White...just putty in their women's hands. Pretty great. I want some of that myself one of these days.

Just that I can't imagine it happening to me. 

It's not that I haven't had my fair share of girls but I can't really pretend I've had any real memorable love affairs. There was Angie at school- we dated for about two years - but it was mostly sex and hanging out, ya know? After that, I just knocked around with women I met, never more than a couple of dates, two months or so at the most, a hell of a lot of one night stands. Pick a sheila up at a club, root her in the car or at her place. Mostly didn't call back. I liked my freedom. Never met anyone who moved me that much.

Celia threw me, of course. I was bloody naïve, go on, say it. Everyone does. She wasn't exactly a pin up but she was sexy in that way of hers. I suppose I was flattered to think an older woman wanted me. It was a kind of adult situation not horny kids on a Friday night. It made me feel ambivalent, tested my loyalties, make choices that I knew were wrong. In my head I justified them by saying, well, this must be love.

It hurt a bloody lot. She just used me. When I thought about it, I realized that the feelings didn't go very deep. It hadn't been anymore than infatuation on my part. But I still resented that I'd been used - for revenge, for sex, to drive a wedge between friends. Knocked my confidence with women, I think. Made me less likely to trust than before.

But at the back of my mind was this sense that what I'd thought we had was something that I must actually need. I'm not a kid anymore. I'm twenty six. It's time I started acting like a man and making some roots somewhere. Get a decent job and a place of my own. Have someone to share it all with.

Then she crossed my path and I suddenly saw what I wanted. Fell for the woman least likely to ever see me as anything but a substitute kid brother. My fucking luck, hey?

I was talking to Jeff one day over the bar. He knows everything - he's been over a while and he's also bloody nosey. And a bit of a gossip if you feed him a few drinks. He can't hold his booze. I asked him a few general questions about some of the men and women and he babbled on. When his guard was down, I asked him about Uma. I wanted to know if she had any history with any of these guys. He eyed me up. "Yeah...she's known a few....what's it to you?"

I shrugged. "Just curious..."

"Then ask her yourself..." He chuckled knowingly. "I'll tell you this. You haven't got a chance, mate. Not a fucking snowball in hell. She kicked the general out. Thorne never got a sniff...you think you can compete with them? Look at you...you're like a fleabag, mate. She's got class, style, intelligence, education...ever looked in the mirror? What would a woman like that see in you?"

He'd already upset Cort with some tasteless comment about Esme. It was definitely his day. Must have got out of the wrong side of bed himself. Or maybe he'd  had a fight with his boyfriend? I know he's fond of Bou and was probably being a bit defensive of her - and he's fond of Esme too, so I reckon he was looking our for her not to get hurt too. But he was out of order. It was none of his business, as usual.

"You ever thought of a career as a diplomat?" I retorted sharply.

He laughed, unconcerned, giving me a smug look. You know how blokes are?

"Bugger off...you can talk. I might be patent but you're flaming obvious, dripping around after her like a pet dog. I've seen you looking at her. Everybody has .No chance. Not in your wildest, dirtiest little dreams, mate. I know you go for the older woman but she's no Celia, mate. You might be able to pick up old bags like her - but a class bird? Take a look at yourself. Then take a look at Chili over there. Now he's doing it for her big time. Bet you I know what he's getting for Christmas off Uma...Work it out, Andy... Don't be so flaming naïve..."

I just told him to 'Fuck off'. He seemed to think that funny. It just made me even angrier and more restless than ever.

 

I think she overheard the end of my exchange with Jeff. I don't thin k she actually knew what we were talking about, but she seemed to guess I was a bit wound up. She called me over and told me to take some time off that afternoon. I was still there at three when the lunchtime crowd had eased off.

"Andy? You still here? Thought you had the afternoon off? Scram...take some time. Heather and Sheila are around, lunches are done...Go and buy something for your girlfriend. You must be seeing someone. Aren't you?"

It was an odd thing for her to say really. I hadn't been going out much since I arrived and certainly had never brought a girl back. In that environment everyone would have been talking in two minutes. Surely she knew I wasn't seeing anyone?

Or was she actually fishing? No, she couldn't be. Why would she care less who I was with? We'd got quite friendly when we were away in Zermatt. She had had no partner so we had sort of doubled up for most activities. I'd never skied. She was a beginner. We'd both done a bit of skating in the past. She seemed happy to hang out with me there. One or two nights we had talked over a late drink when the rest were either on the dance floor or taking early nights. We weren't really open with each other but she did tell me a few things about the pub and a few anecdotes about others. I noticed she was wary on the subject of herself. Never gave much away. But she wanted me to talk and I suppose I did. I was just eager to keep her with me.

Men noticed her wherever we went but she didn't encourage them. I wondered whether she was using me as a sort of shield against them all. Used is not the word I mean. I wasn't trying to say she was taking advantage. But I was a companion and it made her look as if she was spoken for. I was safe.

Why does she seem to be reluctant to get involved with a man? I suspected there were a number of reasons.

I think she is secretly in love with Terry Thorne and his recent thing with Gaia must have been hard for her to take.

I think Ross hurt her in some way although no one is very ready with the details on that one.

I think she has given up on love if what she was saying to that Mick was true.

What a pitiful waste of a beautiful woman. To be alone amidst so many happy couples.

I mumbled something in reply and got my coat. I didn't particularly have anywhere to go but found myself wandering around some shopping mall in the city feeling even more restless amid all the Christmas excess. It's a bloody awful time of year when you're alone. I used to go back home when I was in Melbourne but it was such hard work with Dad making snide comments about my appearance or my job or something. Mum would be rolling her eyes and trying to force me into dressing up and acting like I was a top chef or something just to impress the friends. Jamie and Katherine would be so fucking patronizing. The past two years I just didn't show. Got plenty of flak for that later. But at least I didn't have to listen to what a thankless disappointment I was as a son.

On the other hand, it was just miserable on my own. I'd go out and get drunk at night with mates but on Christmas day everyone has families to go to. So I would sit in my one room and watch the endless Christmas specials that just remind people like me what we don't have.

This year, I know I'll have the crowd at the pub and I'm grateful for that but...I still have this feeling that I'll be cooking and waiting and hanging about the edges of real life. Used not to bother me. Now I want to be part of it, too.

Then I saw her. She was obviously Christmas shopping too. I'm a bit ashamed to admit it but I followed her. Like a mental stalker. Watched where she went and what she bought. Watched her, too. She was dressed casually, just jeans, a roll neck and a leather jacket, her hair in a plait. Not much makeup. She looks very young like that.

She didn't actually buy very much. Mostly just wandering around and window shopping. I saw her stop at one of those sexy lingerie shops, flicking through the Christmas lines. I wondered if she was wishing some guy would buy something intimate from there for her. I got this mad idea to get her a set but didn't have the balls. I mean, I haven't a clue what her size is; you can't just say- slim, tall with perky little titties and a bloody gorgeous bum... And I couldn't give her a present like that. It's only lovers who exchange that sort of gift.

I thought she looked kind of wistful as she wandered about and wondered if she felt a bit like me. Lonely. It's even worse when everyone else is paired up. Even her best friend, Heather, is so wrapped up in her love affair with Dino. That must be hard for her to live with; they are either all over each other at the pub or absent these days.

She spent a long time in the bookshop, and made a few purchases and then she hovered outside a man's shop for a while. It was a pretty expensive one. I looked down at myself wearing frayed jeans and a baggy sweatshirt with my usual parka on top and caught the glance of this guy on the door in his snappy black suit. He was one of those real nobheads with oiled hair and a soul tuft. I hate blokes like that. He gave me this look like I was a lump of dog shit on his highly polished Italian leather shoe. Fuck you, mate. You still take a crap like the rest of us.

Through the window I saw her looking at this shirt on one of the dummies. It was red - well, it's Christmas - sort of smart casual, not flashy but a nice shade. She looked at it a few times and fingered the cloth. I imagined she was thinking of someone she cared for wearing it. I think I knew who she had in mind. But she didn't buy it. I had to duck into a record shop when she suddenly turned on her heel and made for the door of the shop. By the time, I re-emerged, she had vanished into the crowds.

Something made me decide to go and look at that shirt. Braving the smarmy amusement of the poofta on the door, I wandered in and acted like I didn't care that they were all looking at me as though I had broken some law about good taste. I looked at the shirt. Tried it on. Looked alright. It's a shirt. What's it supposed to look like? Decided to buy it. I need something for Christmas. They'll all be smart. Better make an effort. Looked at the price tag. Fucking hell! For a shirt? But she liked it. So I bought it.

Couldn't get out of the bloody place fast enough. They wrapped it up in tissue paper and put it in a gold box. It's a fucking shirt, I felt like saying. Not the crown bloody jewels.

Thought about buying her a present. But I couldn't decide what was appropriate. She's got such good taste and I have crap taste. She has most stuff that women use. If I knew what that was anyway. If I get something too personal it will embarrass her. If I get something too awful that will embarrass her as well.

I went home with just the shirt. Decided to think about the present later.

 

Then he turned up. That bastard Palmer. He's a sleaze ball and he doesn't fool me. At first she seemed pretty cool with him, but he wormed his way into her confidence with that oily way he has, the smart-arsed twat. I can't stand the sight of him. Every time he opens his mouth, he makes me want to put my fist through his slimy face. He treats me like a five year old kid. He seems to know how I feel about her and it amuses him.

"Young Andrew ... How are you tonight? You look a bit flushed," he had said with that pleased-with-himself look. I could feel myself bridle at his putdown about my age.

"Flushed... me?" I had snapped back, pulling a pint for Jeff and sloshing it down. Jeff looked over and I could see him listening in. Could I have made it any more flaming obvious? "Naw...Try taking the Raybans off, mate. Or are you blind or something? And it's Andy to you..." I tried to make it sound laconic, a typical Aussie put down back. But it still sounded like sour grapes to me.

Palmer grinned and raised his glass; I gave him my back and had a chat with Marie. She was curious as to who he was and didn't seem to keen on the newcomer herself. I had already seen the glare Bud had given him. Good. I hope he annoys White. There's a bloke who won't suffer fools gladly. I told Marie who Palmer was. That he seemed to think he was King of Cool - but I thought he was a dickhead. She agreed. Smart lady.

I grinned and told her I was just off to go piss in his beer. We laughed together and I was feeling better already. I went back to the kitchen when Heather came on; Uma called me in as she saw me passing. In her hand was the Christmas card I'd sent her. It was an angel.

"Hey, Andy...you're the angel. Don't know what we'd do without you already!" she grinned and kissed my cheek. Then she stood back, her head tilted and surveyed me a moment. "We must get a chance for a quiet drink over the holidays - we never seem to get a chance to talk, do we? I promise we will....Thanks for the beautiful card. Merry Christmas!" It was probably just a polite comment but I saw my chance. I wasn't going to waste it.

"It's a date, then, isn't it? Maybe you'd like the chance to get away from all the hustle at the pub, take in someplace posh, just for a drink ... or dinner even? Maybe lunch, if you'd rather...." I was gabbling and I could see by the slight knitting of her brows that she was not entirely sure about what I was suggesting. Her answer was not exactly enthusiastic. But she didn't say no.

"I guess we could go out for dinner somewhere. This week's too busy... but maybe before New Year? No need to push the boat out. Somewhere quiet so we can have a good natter. That would be nice." It sounded like a big sister talking to her kid brother. I tried to ignore that. Then she seemed to begin to backtrack. "You sure about this? We could just as easily have a drink upstairs if you'd prefer..."

I thought I needed to sound a little less desperate. Act cool about the whole thing. It was no big deal. Later would do fine. "Right, I understand about this week being too busy. Christmas and all. Next week, then. And yeah, I'm real sure that I'd rather take you off somewhere." I was pleased with that. It sounded assertive. Dominant. I leaned my arm on the wall above her head and saw her look at it. I couldn't work out what the glance was saying but I carried on, dropping my voice, making it more husky. "Somewhere quiet? Er ... right. Sounds the treat. That's what we'll do then, isn't it? You leave it to me..."

She gave a ghost of a smile and ducked under my arm, walking towards the door. I could read the message loud and clear. She wasn't letting me close. But she had still accepted the offer. "You choose somewhere. I'd like that. But don't spend too much money, eh? It isn't necessary. I don't judge a man by the size of his wallet. It's a date, then? And thanks for the invite..." she turned to go and then seemed to have an afterthought. "But...Let's not make a song and dance about it, though? May be better if the others don't know...you know what they're like..."

I faked a smile even though my heart sank. She was ashamed that the others would think this was a date. Was I such a pathetic come down for this lady who had been romanced by the best of them? "Sure, I catch your meaning ... no sense letting a buncha sticky beaks get word, is there then? This'll just be between us. And you leave everything to me; I think I know the perfect place. I'll go check it out over the weekend because I've never actually been there... but I hear it's ... uh ... nice for a lady. You know?" I swallowed hard and she smiled back sweetly, patting my hand.

I leaned back on the wall and breathed out slowly. Jesus Christ...was this better or worse now?

It got worse. Half an hour later, Uma came up to me after spending the whole time in a tight convo with Palmer.  "Andy...could I ask you a favour?" I was like a dog begging for scraps but I couldn't stop myself. "Would you cook dinner for me tomorrow night? Something special? You know how useless I am..."

I thought, 'Dinner?' You bet. I grinned broadly. "Sure...what do you want? ...Just for two then? Yeah....that would be great...."

Her answer set my heart pounding. "Yeah. just two...."  Thank you God! "...I invited Chili. Can't give a guy like that beans on toast now, can I?"

What? Palmer? She can arrange dinner with him at a moment's notice but when I ask her, she puts me off? I felt my facial muscles drop and struggled not to make my disappointment evident. Not sure how successful I was. Everyone always says my face is like an open book. But I soldiered manfully on. "Yeah, I'll cook all right...he like soup?" I was tempted to add '...and cyanide?' But I didn't. I still couldn't believe that I was going to spend the afternoon, while she, apparently, was going to be his guest as some fucking expensive beauty spa, slaving away in the kitchen like some servant so that she could seduce that slimy toad. Story of my life though. If there's a wrong end of the stick to grab, I will get it in one. Every time.

 

She came bounding into the kitchen early evening and the sight of her almost took my breath away. Her hair was different, a little bit shorter, a more contemporary style. She looked like a top model, perfectly made up, her nails all polished, wearing an elegant black cocktail dress. I had my hands in a bowl of flour, rubbing pastry. She looked in pots on the cooker and clapped her hands on glee. "This looks so wonderful...oh, Andy, you are such a darling! She reached over and kissed me on the cheek and then wiped a smear of flour from my nose with a fond smile. "Let's have a glass of wine!"

I watched her pouring out two chilled glasses of Chardonnay as I rolled the pastry. The tactile smooth texture reminded me of creamy female flesh, I blinked a few times to try and dispel the image. As my hands were so floury, she placed the glass to my lips and gave me a sip before raising her own and doing the same. I looked at my hands, wiped them on the cloth round my waist and took my own glass from her hand. We clinked. "Here's to the people who run this joint. Couldn't do it without you!" she beamed.

There was a silence then as she watched me roll the pastry and cut it into shapes. It was for a millefeuille base for dessert. "I wish I could cook. I never learnt. I just couldn't be bothered. I am so lazy at girlie things...oh sorry...I wasn't implying that being a chef was effeminate....I mean, girls normally learn to cook when they're with their Mums. Mine gave up on me. I was more interested in being a tomboy..."

I let her ramble on, loved hearing her talk of her childhood. I've noticed that she is often quite guarded about herself. This was a rare chance to hear her in a confidential mood. "...I should learn though...I mean, men expect a good meal, don't they? They sort of think a woman isn't a real woman unless she can knock out pies and stuff as well as do the job in the bedroom..."

I smiled at her. Maybe some women. But not a woman like her. A man would take her anyway he could get her. "Well, if you want to learn, there are two things that you can do about it...."

"Oh yeah?" she giggled, filling our glasses up. I hoped she didn't get too tipsy; he as sure as shit would be plying her with plenty later. She needed her wits about her with that creep.

"Well, you could go to cookery classes...." 

She screwed up her nose. "Boring...."

"Or...marry a man who can cook..."

That seemed to delight her. She threw her head back and laughed loudly. "Now that sounds like a plan! Marry a Cordon Bleu chef! Eat gourmet food every night! Do I know any chefs? Wait...lookee here...maybe I should marry you, Andy?" Her eyes sparkled and she danced over and pinched my butt. "You can supply the pies and I will do the bedroom service...could be a great deal...."

I caught her eye and suddenly her smile faded. Another look fleetingly crossed her beautiful dark eyes. For an instant I thought I saw something less polished, more real...

But Heather breezed in at that moment and the veil drew back. "Something smells good in here. Yummy....Andy....you must give me the recipe for that...!" Uma just smiled quietly and slipped out to decorate the table in the apartment upstairs. I went back to kitchen duty.

 

Uma and Palmer were still sitting at the table talking and laughing over a bottle of cognac when I went to bed. They both looked round and I felt like I was intruding on an intimate moment. They wished me good night. It sounded like a hint to get lost.

 It must have been gone twelve. I didn't sleep. I just lay on the bed and put on a CD, the sound up to drown out the distant hum of a man and a woman in intimate conversation. I listened to the lyrics of U2's Without You and stared through the open curtain at the night sky, looking at the stars. I felt as low as I have felt in a hell of a long time, imagining her taking him to her bed and knowing what was happening just a few feet away from me when I wanted her so much.

 

 

I heard the sound of chairs pushed back. The music changed to some slow jazz. I wondered if he was holding her in his arms. I imagined them dancing. Like a scene from some old movie. Cheek to Cheek. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.  I lit a cigarette and sucked down deep, closing my eyes but only making the visual more vivid.

 

 

I got up from the bed and went to the window opening it and letting the freezing December night air, rush in to cool my feverish head. I saw his car outside in the empty lot. It seemed to taunt me, the sleek headlights like eyes narrowed in mirth, amused at my plight. I had an urge to take a brick and throw it through the gleaming windscreen.

 

 

Shortly afterwards, I heard the back door close and watched Palmer as he loped over to his car, lit a cigarette and looked about him. He raised his eyes and I ducked back behind the curtain. He could have seen the movement. He smiled up as if he knew I was there and then gave me a curt salute before jumping behind the wheel and zooming off into the night. He hadn't stayed the night. Not this time. But how long before she let him in?

 

Christmas Eve was a huge gathering. I had my kitchen staff popping in all the day with help and offerings for the feast. Uma had relented and simply made me wear a Santa cap - although it did have flashing lights racing across the fur trim. Could have been worse. She had threatened a red posing pouch. The three ladies wore varying degrees of sexy angel outfits. It was just one of those nights. Everyone had made an effort and the atmosphere was so incredibly warm and friendly that it even lifted my mood. Biebe's lap got plenty of action as the mistletoe took its effect. Wigand  was Santa - Heather had apparently found him a few weeks ago after bumping into him when she and Dino were at a Japanese restaurant in the city. This one had been planned for sometime and Wigand was a sport for going along with it. He seemed rather overwhelmed but very happy to have found us. He was right. I'd rather be here tonight - even without her- than anywhere else in the world.

He distributed the gifts, crazy things from dime stores, everyone cracking up laughing at the things they got. I'm still amused by the jar of pump action lube called Maximus that Uma handed to the general. He gave her a weak smile. And then offered to try it out on her. You gotta give it to him. He's not as stiff as he looks. I wonder what Jeff meant about Uma throwing him out? Did they really have a thing in the past? They sure as hell don't seem to like each other much now.

Or does that mean they still do?

It must be the magic of the season because, despite the recent upheavals, everyone there seemed to be happy; every where you looked there were smiling faces, people throwing arms round each other, kissing, chatting, laughing, singing, dancing. It was impossible not to be infected by the spirit, even though she stuck close to him all evening and I saw how Palmer watched her. It was as if some invisible message was passing between them. This would be the night.

At midnight Cort carried in the tiny statue of the Infant child and laid it in the straw of the nativity scene. He said a prayer for us all. It wasn't some long ritual- let's face it most of us are not what you might call conventionally religious- but it was spiritual and moving. It made us all think about the underlying truths of what we are here for when all is said and done.

After that people settled down, some into groups for a last few drinks, others making their farewells and off home. Ann slipped away early - she must have resented Chili's desertion of her. It was callous of him really. Cort didn't hang around; I saw him watching Bou when she was in conversation. But I don't reckon he went far. Esme made her excuses almost immediately and left too.

Lachlan surprised a few people; no one had thought he would turn up. Since he and Cassie split up, he's been in a bad way - but he won't talk about it. A few of the guys have tried to get him to cut loose with them, maybe get him to spill it all and cry it out - or hit someone if that made him feel any better. But he's a tough nut to crack underneath that seemingly chipper exterior. No one was getting through.

Except for Sheila. Weird that. They don't exactly seem like the obvious pair but she is surprisingly gentle with him for Sheila; he doesn't seem to merit the sharp edge of her tongue like the rest of us. And he talks to her. That night they arrived together. And left hand-in-hand. Not my business. But I wondered where Cass was. Uma said she'd gone home to see her parents for Christmas. It must be a pretty bleak one for her - and if she knew what he was up to behind her back...well, what difference does it make now? They're finished. I suppose he was bound to find another girl eventually.

Finally they had all left and Uma and I stacked the last of the dishes while Heather and Dino restored the bar. The rest could wait until morning. It was already late and I decided to take the opportunity of being alone with her to wish her Merry Christmas. Moving up behind her as she was closing the cupboard door, I opened my mouth to speak but someone beat me to it.

"Time for good girls to get a Christmas kiss. Merry Christmas, Uma..." Palmer was standing at the door holding up a sprig of mistletoe. He gave me the look. "Do you mind...?" he smiled smugly.

I threw down the cloth I'd been holding in my hand and stormed past him, running up the stairs and leaving them to it, banging my bedroom door as I slammed it shut. Lying in the dark I heard Heather and Dino say their goodnights and then some soft late night music go on in the lounge. I could hear muted voices talking.  Palmer was upstairs with Uma. And then it all went quiet.

I must have been drunk; I know I'd had more than usual. Something snapped in me, thinking of the pair of them making out on the sofa just up the corridor from me. So I left my room and walked in on them. Talk about making it worse for myself. I flicked on the lights and barged right into the room.

But only one person was lying on the sofa. And by the look on her face, she had been crying.

"Turn that bloody light off!" she blurted out, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "Why are you still up, Andy?"

I shrugged, embarrassed suddenly, realizing that I was standing there in just my shorts. Christ, I was more far gone than I'd imagined. "Dunno. You okay?"

She sniffed and nodded. "Just drank too much. Getting to the weepy stage..." she faked an unconvincing smile. "That's the problem with gin...makes you sad..."

I lowered the light and came to sit beside her, feeling a bit awkward, half-naked so close to her, praying that the drink would make me loose enough not to crack a fat in front of her. "Did Chili upset you? What's the matter?" I put my arm out as if to cuddle her then drew it back again, unsure exactly what to do.

"Not Chili. Not really. I just realized what a shitty time of year it is to be alone...." she hunched her shoulders and slopped more brandy into a glass, filling another for me. Picking them up, she offered me one. "Drink with me, Andy. It's bloody pathetic to get drunk alone..."

I took the glass and set it down. "Maybe you've had enough? Come on...let me put you to bed. You'll feel better in the morning..."

"...How exactly will I feel better?" She sighed and took a gulp of the liquor. "You know something? I'll feel worse in the morning. Still alone and with a fucking hangover. Won't stop me, though. Nothing ever does..."

"Why? Why are you alone?" I'm not sure why I said it. It just came out. But I couldn't understand it. All these hot blooded men and a woman like her and she has no one of her own? Where's the sense in that?

Uma turned her eyes to me. "I'm alone because...in the end...I choose to be. I just won't let them in. I can't..." she put her head in her hands and groaned, frustrated with her inability to explain herself. "As soon as they get close, I feel the fear...like claustrophobia or something. They always want to take control. Change my life. I happen to like to be my own boss. I like my life..."

"It doesn't have to be like that!" I said. "You don't have to change just for someone else..."

"It does have to be like that if you happen to be the kind of woman who is attracted to strong men because they are strong and then runs away because they are too strong...crazy, huh? But it doesn't stop me wanting a big warm body to hold me in the night..."

"Then why didn't you sleep with him? Or that other guy?" I no longer seemed to have any control of my mouth.

"Andy...it's not about sex! It's about....I wish I knew what it was about! I wish I could tell you. I wish I understood....I wish....I wish...."

She never finished. Somehow we had gotten even closer until our lips were almost touching- and I simply closed my eyes and kissed her. I doubt if any thought other than sheer overwhelming desire drove my action; God knows why she responded.

But she did. No sooner had our lips met than she grabbed me and pulled me against her, I pushed her down and writhed over her as we kissed deeper and deeper. I was stiff in seconds; she must have been able to feel it. When we finally broke from the frantic kiss, we were already way past first base - her dress was round her waist and my shorts were half way down my thighs.

For a moment we just stared at each other. Uma sat up sharply and pulled her dress across her breasts; I turned my back and pulled up my shorts. Swearing under my breath and rolling my eyes to heaven in anger at my stupid, inelegant pass at this vulnerable woman, I faced her to try and explain. "Look, Uma....."

She pressed her finger to my lips. Taking my hand, she pulled me from the chair and simply backed out of the room and led me to hers. She wanted me. She really wanted me.

I have never had an experience like it. I'd been thinking about sex with her often enough of late but when it happened it just blew my mind. She stripped and let me look at her. For a moment I felt my erection flag. She was just so beautiful to me that I thought I would never be able to give her the pleasure she deserved. But when she touched me, my insecurities all flew out of the window. She pushed down my shorts and openly admired my body, told me I was beautiful, made love to my cock like no women ever has done.

But she didn't just take the lead. She let me take over and it felt so good to be a man for her, to kiss every part of her pliant body, to taste her secret places and love her till she cried my name. I could hardly stop shaking when I entered her. I thought I would come the moment I slid inside her creamy walls. She knew. She just held me and whispered.... "It doesn't matter....come...you've already taken care of me...let me hold you while you come..."

So I came. In a blinding burst of white heat, like everything I had held inside for weeks was bursting out. I couldn't stop it. I didn't know what I said. I can't remember anything but just sheer joy and sensations stronger than I'd ever known. Is this love? Or is it heaven?

We lay awhile afterwards, just breathing each other in, Uma lying on my chest, her fingers stroking my body but not talking. Words were too inadequate. Later we drifted from touching to making love again, this time slower and deeper. It was very late and totally silent. Snowflakes fluttered silently past the window and melted on the heat emanating from the room within. We lay in the aftermath, fingers interlinked and watched the snow fall through the open curtains. A White Christmas.  Magical. This night was almost too perfect to be true. I'm dreaming of ... but my dream came true. Light in my world. Peace and joy. All those sentiments that you mouth every year just took on a whole new meaning for me in that moment.

As we slipped into sleep, I circled her in the crook of my arms and pressed my body close to hers. This is the beginning. I remember thinking that to myself as I listened to her soft breathing and finally gave myself away to the pull of slumber. The beginning....

The next words I heard? It must have been hours later although it felt like a mere second when her shrill cry rudely shook me awake....

"Bloody hell! What the f.....oh no! Tell me I didn't...! How could I? Oh no, no, no, no, no- not you....! Oh my God...! What have I done?"

The End?

 

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