Rebecca felt giddy and rather warm and was manoeuvring to take off her bolero jacket when she remembered with horror that she had forgotten to shave her armpits. She had let the pits go for months, and they were now an impenetrable forest.
Rebecca stubbornly hadn’t shaved since Rodney’s departure and had sworn never to pander to men in such a way again. She now conceded to herself that she had left shaving her armpits too long, probably two months too long. She quickly dropped her elbow, and as she did so, bumped Nick Pecorino, forcing him to spill his drink.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Nick. What a duffer I am. You must forgive me,’ she slurred as she dabbed at the wine with her napkin. Rebecca was pleased at the way she was enunciating her words but wondered at the odd glances directed her way.
Nick turned to Rebecca and pointedly said, ‘Perhaps you would be kind enough to give me a personal introduction to your friend who has joined us at my table?’
Despite Rebecca’s level of inebriation, she was still able to pick up the emphasis on my in Nick’s question.
After taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she responded, ‘Detective Chief Inspector Gary Jarvie, may I introduce you to Nick Pecorino, the head of the Australian Food Festival and our host for this evening.’
Rebecca was impressed that Gary stood up and leaned over the table to shake Nick’s hand and said, ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner tonight, Mr Pecorino. It is very kind of you to have an interloper like me join you.’
Jonathan cut in at this point. ‘I invited Gary to join us, Nick. I knew you wouldn’t mind. Wild and wintry night and all. And we have plenty of food and wine to go round.’
Nick gave what looked to Rebecca as a forced smile. He was in an awkward position and couldn’t be openly rude in front of his guests.
‘Not at all. It is a pleasure to have you as our guest, Detective Chief Inspector. You never know when one might need the services of a policeman. And please call me Nick.’ Nick raised his glass of wine and added, ‘Enjoy.’
Gary sat opposite Rebecca. Dorothy sat to Gary’s right, and to his left was Jonathan. Rebecca was convinced Dorothy had visited the dining room during drinks for the sole purpose of changing her place name so as to be seated next to Gary. Francois was seated at one end of the table, Leong at the other. A standoff, thought Rebecca. Nick sat next to Rebecca.
Rebecca looked around the room. It had a bay window at one end that housed a Steinway grand piano. A log fire roared directly behind Rebecca. She watched the shadows from the fire dance in the mirror on the opposite wall. Two large chandeliers hovered over each end of the table, dimmed to a low shimmer.
The dining table was wide and long, of polished cedar. It could comfortably sit ten without the extension leaves. It was roomy for the seven of them. The chairs had balloon backs, and the seats were covered in rich red velvet, matching the drapes at the bay window.
Each place setting had a round silver place mat. There were two candelabras at either end of the table, with the candlelight helping to enhance the room’s warm glow. An enormous bowl of seasonal Fuji apples lay in the centre of the table. The napkins were red to match the velvet curtains, placed in antique sterling-silver napkin rings. Next to the napkins sat a scroll of parchment, listing the menu for the evening. The lineup of silver cutlery and glassware went on forever.
Rebecca looked at the menu. There were eight courses and at least eight more glasses of wine. She was anxious at how she was going to manage to get through it all without sliding under the table.
The waiting staff presented them each with a small plate containing two very tiny tartlets. Rebecca promptly crammed both in her mouth. She swallowed the last tartlet just as a wine waiter finished pouring her another glass of champagne.
No one else but Rebecca had touched the tartlets. She was looking rather longingly at Nick’s tartlets, when Nick raised his champagne glass to propose a toast.
‘To the Australian Food Festival and to Leong Chew’s magnificent dinner.’
Rebecca had no choice. She raised the glass to her lips and gave a polite sip. Gary smiled at her across the table, leaned forward, and said, ‘I’d go easy if I were you.’
At that, Rebecca said, ‘Well, you’re not me,’ and she proceeded to defiantly down the entire glass of champagne.
As she swallowed, she wondered, Why am I giving this guy such a hard time? He is gorgeous, so why am I being petulant? And why the hell am I drinking like a fish?
She started to think about when she had met Gary previously. It would only have been three or four times. Rodney tended to keep his colleagues as a separate part of his life. Indeed, she wasn’t even sure how much of a mate Gary was to Rodney. Rodney hardly mentioned him.
She remembered Gary being at a policeman’s ball. He had been with a short, pretty brunette Rebecca thought was as timid as a church mouse. She had noticed Gary and had definitely seen that he was cute, but she had been with Rodney, and for all her faults, Rebecca had never cheated on her partner.
So Gary had been off limits. But surely the situation has changed, she thought. Rebecca was on her own, a free agent, able to take up with anyone she wanted. She wasn’t sure if Gary was in the same boat, but that was up to him to signal.
So why the hostility? Was it that he was a colleague of Rodney’s? Someone from the past, associated with her ex-boyfriend? Probably, she thought. But why not have a bit of fun tonight? Drop the haughty barrier and flirt a bit. Why not? It could be fun.
Rebecca began to think what a bore everyone else at the table had become. Leong was giving everyone an intricate description of his tartlets. Francois interjected to describe one of his own tartlet creations he thought superior. Jonathan and Dorothy were both trying to talk to Gary at the same time, and Nick was boring Rebecca with his latest food venture in the Hunter Valley, due to go ahead only a couple of months after the Australian Food Festival in Adelaide in November.
Rebecca started to drift off. She began to imagine what it would be like to be alone, dancing with Gary in front of the fire to a romantic ballad. Their bodies held against each other. She would be able to smell the lanolin from his damp merino-wool jumper. Be engulfed by his strong arms. Have her head nestled against his neck. Smell his manly body odour.
Rebecca was gazing dreamily at Gary when she was jerked back to reality by Nick repeating her name.
She turned to Nick, apologising. ‘Oh, please, go on.’
The soup and sherry were served. Jonathan was talking to Gary about fitness and asking him how he kept his ‘beautiful body in such good condition,’ when the civility of the evening was broken.
Leong, in a tone not unlike a banshee, screamed, ‘Jonathan, do you expect me to sit here all night and listen while you make love to this man? You’re nothing but a slut. You make me sick!’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that, old dear,’ said Jonathan. ‘Someone might mistake your malady for food poisoning.’
Rebecca slurped her soup. Nothing was going to distract her from eating. While Jonathan and Leong continued to trade insults, the others silently sipped their sherry and averted their eyes. It started to reach a crescendo when Jonathan became equally shrill and brought up Leong’s past indiscretions.
‘Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. You are a whore! How many men have you bedded in the past year? How many affairs have you had, not even caring if I knew or not? And you have the temerity to have a go at me for having an innocent flirt with Gary. Well, I will tell everyone here and now, on my mother’s grave, I’ve been true to you. I haven’t slept with anyone else since we’ve been together. I’ve been loyal!’
Rebecca thought it was now getting awkward, when Nick interjected with, ‘There’ll be tears before bedtime if this keeps up.’
Jonathan and Leong both looked at Nick, rather stunned. Leong snapped back, ‘Well, that’s a bloody stupid thing to say.’
Jonathan burst into tears.
With that, Leong rose from the table. ‘I’m checking on the next course.’
Rebecca, having finished her soup, rose from her chair and yelled after Leong, ‘You’re a disgrace, Leong. How dare you treat Jonathan so appallingly!’
Leong ignored Rebecca’s indignation and continued to walk out of the dining room.
Rebecca staggered around the table and flung her arms around Jonathan, saying, ‘Don’t worry about that bastard. You’re better than him. He doesn’t deserve you!’
Jonathan used his napkin to wipe away his tears and to blow his nose. ‘Thank you, Rebecca dear.’
Rebecca sensed an awkward silence, and lost for what to say next, she said, ‘Anyone for charades before the next course?’
There was a collective groan around the table.
Rebecca unwrapped her arms from around Jonathan, declaring, ‘Well, I know one thing—if I don’t get more food soon to soak up this booze, I’m in trouble.’
Rebecca staggered back to her chair as the soup bowls were cleared and the seafood compote was brought to the table.
Rebecca noticed Gary’s eyes on her. She refused to look at him.
The room was quiet as they used the crab crackers to break open the crab legs. Dorothy was the first to try the broth.
‘Oh my goodness,’ she sputtered. ‘This is dreadful.’ She lunged for her water glass and gulped down the whole glass of water and declared, ‘There’s something wrong with this broth!’
Francois took a small sip and exclaimed to Leong, who had just returned to the room, ‘Are you trying to kill us? This is disgusting!’
Leong quickly tasted the broth for himself. He turned crimson and managed to splutter, ‘But I don’t understand. I had only just tasted it for seasoning.’ He rose from his chair and stormed off to the kitchen, yelling, ‘What have you done to my seafood? None of you will ever work anywhere in the food industry again, not even as dish pigs!’
Leong’s yells could be heard clearly in the dining room. He was using every expletive under the sun, and it appeared that, rather than calming down, he was getting more worked up and insulting to his staff.
‘What do you think is in it?’ asked Dorothy.
‘Probably cayenne pepper—and a heap of it. That’s what it tastes like to me,’ said Nick, taking another tiny sip. ‘Leong probably gave instructions for more pepper after he tasted it, and some poor sod’s mistaken the cayenne for pepper. They are, after all, working in a foreign kitchen. Still, it is a terrible mistake. Something that should never happen.’
Thinking it would be a disappointingly long time until the next course arrived, Rebecca stood up and strolled over to the fireplace. She rested her hand on the mantel and gazed into the flames licking the slow-burning mallee roots.
As Rebecca looked down at the fire, she caught sight of a big toe. She looked up to see Gary’s dazzling white teeth.
‘Fires are wonderful things. I can gaze at them for hours. That’s one of the things I love about weekending up here. Open fires. Or lighting a bonfire in the paddock to get rid of all the old stuff,’ said Gary.
‘What about the environment?’ said Rebecca. ‘What about the destruction to native habitat from clearing trees, or worse, collecting dead wood? Do you know dead wood is the home to a whole host of native Australian animals, not to mention reptiles and insects?’ She knew she was conveniently ignoring the fact that she too loved wood fires and had an open fire at her own home.
‘You do impress me,’ said Gary ‘I didn’t realise you were a conservationist. You may be interested to know that I’ve planted over one thousand native species on my land in the past two years, Rebecca. I’ve a wood lot that I grow purely for my own firewood, and I selectively cull. I don’t collect dead wood. I understand its role in the ecosystem. Nonetheless, there is a certain amount of clearing I do have to do around my cottage to make sure that it’s bushfire safe in summer. That and wood from my wood lot is the stuff I burn in the open fire, not the fallen logs.’
‘Oh,’ said Rebecca, feeling chastened and once again confused as to why she went on the attack and tried to find fault in the first place.
There was a moment’s silence as they both looked into the fire. Gary said, ‘Sorry to hear about you and Rodney.’ She quickly looked at him to see if she could read his expression. He looked compassionate enough. In fact, she noticed how gentle his face was.
‘Oh, don’t be,’ Rebecca answered. ‘It was for the best. It just didn’t work out.’
At that point, she was dying to ask Gary about his own circumstances. But she couldn’t think of a way to phrase it that didn’t seem either too forward or too desperate. But she needn’t have worried.
‘Yes, both partners don’t always want the same things. I haven’t found any woman yet that wants what I want,’ said Gary.
Rebecca couldn’t help herself. ‘What do you want?’
Just then, Dorothy came up. ‘Apparently Leong’s sorted the kitchen staff out. It was cayenne pepper. It was that poor Will Oliver’s fault. He’s been with Leong for ten years, but Leong just sacked him. He’s gone. But the next course is ready.’
The three of them resumed their seats, and the rest of the meal was eaten in a subdued atmosphere.
It was midnight before Rebecca fell into bed. She didn’t bother to take her makeup off or brush her teeth. She just threw her dress over the back of a chair and let her black superlift bra and black G-string fall to the floor.
Getting into bed in the raw, she couldn’t stop thinking of Gary and wondering if he would have admired her new underwear. She hadn’t gotten to speak to him at all for the rest of the night. Dorothy had monopolised Gary, and then he had left about eleven thirty, when the State Emergency Service blokes had phoned and said the ford was down and they could get through to help out. With polite goodbyes and a thank you, Gary was gone.
In what was left of the evening, the rest of the group was entertained by Jonathan’s drunkenness. At one stage, there was a real possibility of Jonathan falling headfirst into the apple tart, and he would have done so if Leong hadn’t swiped the pie from under him just before Jonathan’s head hit the table.
During pudding, cheese, and chocolates, the conversations had to be conducted at a sufficient decibel level to be heard over Jonathan’s snoring.