As the safety curtain rose for the second half, Heinz was telling Carrie how hed just been to Selfridges to buy a cappuccino maker. He loved everything Italian. Hed been stationed there during the war.
As the stage curtains closed, Heinz mopped something from the corner of his eye and muttered gutturally, Poor, poor old Petrushka!
During the curtain calls Heinz told Carrie that he often felt that it was sadder to be a sad puppet than a sad person.
Pardon?
Petrushka, the puppet. Sometimes it feels like the ballet is sadder because he is a puppet and not a living being.
Oh, right. Yes. Carrie finished applauding and leaned over to pick up her bag. Heinz stayed where he was.
How will you be getting home then, Carrie?
I brought my car.
Really?
Yes.
So maybe, maybe you wouldnt mind joining an old man for a cup of coffee somewhere before you make your way back?
Uh? Carrie was agog.
Oh! Um She thought about it for a long moment. She imagined her quiet house, her empty bed. OK, she said cheerfully, love to.
Sydney was late for Thursdays class so they didnt have a chance to chat beforehand. Afterwards though, in the sauna, they had plenty of opportunity for exchanging news. Carrie wore a white towel around her essentials and sat on the lower bench. Sydney wore nothing and sat on the upper.
Howd it go then?
Pardon?
Last night.
Fine.
Yeah?
Yes. Carrie cleared her throat. I mean, you know how it is when you do something alone for the first time when youre accustomed to doing it with someone else
I guess so.
Sydney lay down flat on her back. Whenever she lifted her shoulders or her buttocks, they stuck to the wooden boards, aided by the natural glue of her bodys moisture. The noise this made reminded Carrie of the sound of an emery board against a ragged nail.
Actually, Carrie said, grinning, La Fille Mal Gardée is my favourite ballet.
Really? You like an element of slapstick, huh?
I suppose I must do.
Myself, I prefer a tragedy. I find that tragedy best reflects my emotional and psychological state.
Carrie turned and stared straight into Heinzs frogspawn eyes. Youre kidding.
Me? Kidding? Not at all. Not at all.
Heinz offered Carrie his family-size box of Maltesers.
Thanks.
Carrie took one and popped it into her mouth. Thats the strangest part she said, chewing and enjoying the sensation of chocolate and malt on her tongue. Ive been to four ballets with you and never for a moment did I think you seemed like a sad or a dissatisfied person.
It was the interval. Heinz and Carrie were propping up the theatre bar. Heinz had discovered that Carries favourite winter tipple was port and lemon. Hed taken to ordering her one before the show. This meant they didnt have to wait to be served during the intermission.
Heinz smiled at Carrie. You see the best in everyone.
Maybe Im just insensitive.
You? Insensitive? Never. Youre an angel.
A man standing just to Carries left turned and stared at them. Carrie caught his eye. His expression was a mixture of amusement and confusion. Carrie took a sip of her drink. People were so funny, the way they stared. Their quizzical expressions. It had begun to dawn on her that when she was out with Heinz she became a puzzle. She became mysterious.
Alone, at home, in life, she felt like something dried-up, wrung-out and innocuous. Out with Heinz, she felt like she was transformed into something much less explicable.
Heinz was bossy and opinionated but he wasnt entirely unobservant. He rolled his eyes at Carrie. Probably thinks youre my daughter.
Carrie shrugged. And I could be too, easily.
Carrie often found Heinz to be genuinely perceptive. At their second ballet together hed said, And your husband ?
To which shed responded, I dont ever want to talk about him.
Very well.
And theyd never spoken about him since. It was almost like, Carrie decided, Jack had never even existed.
Sydney was plaiting her hair, trying, but failing, to include the front bang-like bits into the weave so that they didnt keep falling into her eyes. Their class was due to start at any minute. Carrie stood behind her, scowling to herself, intensely discomfited.
I was only saying, Sydney observed, still plaiting, that it seems a bit strange for you not to want me to come with you when you said yourself on several occasions that there was a spare ticket going begging.
There is a spare ticket, Carrie said, caught distinctly off her guard. Its only that next week I promised someone else
Who?
A friend called Sue, Carrie said, too quickly, and then widened her eyes when shed finished speaking as if the words shed just uttered were indigestible.
Who?
I told you about her, surely? Shes the one who thinks I should open my own interior design shop.
Sue?
Yes. Remember? I said I was thinking about starting work again, now that Jacks gone. The moneys tight and everything.
Interior design? Thats the first Ive heard of it. How could you afford to open an interior design shop? You dont know anything about retail
Sydney finished her plaiting and turned to face Carrie. Carries cheeks were red, she noted, and she was scratching her neck as though shed been bitten.
It was just an idea.
Where would you get the money from to start a business with? Youre broke.
I know.
Interior design, you said?
Carrie nodded.
Sue? Sue who?
Carrie blinked and then swallowed. The Sue whos coming to the ballet with me next week. We were at school together. I surely mustve mentioned her before.
No.
People had started to filter their way gradually into the gym. Carrie pointed, I think the class is due to start.
OK, next time.
Pardon?
Sydney smiled. Next time I want to come with you, so make sure you keep the ticket spare, all right?
Yes. Fine.
Sydney led the way. Carrie looked down at her trainers and silently incanted a Hail Mary.
Theyd become so engrossed in their conversation that they hadnt noticed everyone else going back inside. Carrie was so engrossed in what Heinz was saying that she almost hadnt noticed his hand on her shoulder. Almost.
What else do I have to spend my money on? Huh? Theres nothing. I want for nothing. It would give me enormous pleasure to help you out.
I dont know. Carrie, for some reason, couldnt stop thinking about Sydney.
Actually, Heinz, next time I come to the ballet Ill be bringing someone with me
Heinzs hand slipped from Carries shoulder. His voice was suddenly flat. Oh. Thats good. It seems such a shame to waste the seat every week like you do.
Exactly. We go to the same evening class together.
Does this person have a name?
Sydney.
I see. I see.
Exactly. We go to the same evening class together.
Does this person have a name?
Sydney.
I see. I see.
Carrie noticed that Heinzs face was pale and doughy. Is something wrong?
Nothing at all. Nothing.
Carrie continued to stare at Heinz. Was he all right? He didnt look it. She suddenly became nervous and she didnt know why. She started to babble. Shes Australian. I had to invite her. She asked.
Heinz put his hand to his bow tie. Shes a girl?
Yes.
Carrie watched with ill-concealed amazement as Heinz burst out laughing. He laughed so hard and loud that his toupee slipped. Then he plucked it from his forehead with his meaty hand, tossed it into the air with a great whoop and then caught it, just as deftly.
The sauna. Sydney sat bolt upright, her eyes as wide as saucers, each hand enfolding a single breast as though her amazement endangered them in some way.
Youre sleeping with this guy?
Carries towel was wrapped as tight as it could be but still she hitched it closer. Not exactly. I didnt spend the night
You fucked this man?
Please! Hes eighty-three!
Exactly! Hes eighty-fucking-three and you shagged him. My God! How did this happen? How does it happen that an attractive forty-four-year-old woman, in her prime, great body, big hair, the lot, shags an eighty-three-year-old man who she was the first to admit
It wasnt
Who she was the first to admit is the fattest and most boring old loudmouth in the whole damn universe. How? Huh?
Sydney! Please
Jesus, I can just imagine it.
Imagine what?
You know what I mean.
Dont!
Guess what Im visualizing, Carrie. I am visualizing this grey slug of a man with an enormous pale belly and a tiny penis like a party-time Mars Bar hanging down below
Stop it!
Carrie was on the brink of crying. She was so ashamed. It wasnt even the act, the fact of it, that shamed her, only Sydneys perception of it and then her perception of it as a result of Sydneys. That was all. And if Sydney hadnt insisted on the second ballet ticket it would never have been a problem, she could have hidden it. She could have pretended
He must be loaded.
What?
Money. Why else would you want him? Is he loaded? Is he going to, maybe, give you a little bit of money to start off your interior design business? Is that it?
Carrie was mortified. It isnt like that at all!
No? How is it then?
I dont know! Carrie started crying.
Sydney was unmoved. She said softly, You know, I kept thinking you were taking this whole Jack thing too well.
I dont want to talk about Jack!
What would Jack think, huh? What would Jack actually think if he knew what you were doing?
Carrie stood up, covered her cheeks with her hands, bolted out of the sauna, through the changing rooms and into the showers. There she turned the tap to cold, ripped off her towel and pushed her burning face into the jet.
Sydney crossed her llama legs at the knee and then dialled Jacks number.
Hi Jack. Its Sydney.
Sydney? Well, hello. What can I do for you?
I want to see you. Its about Carrie.
After Jack had put down the phone, he picked up his duffel coat and brushed it off. He was keenly looking forward to a cold snap.
It was a nightmare. Just as shed imagined. Heinz wore his toupee and his turd-coloured tie. He kept regaling them with terrible stories about his late wifes beloved red setter which had diedfollowing several years of chronic incontinenceafter swallowing a cricket ball. Carrie supposed that he must be nervous. Poor lamb.
Sydney was horribly polite. She kept staring at Heinzs stomach as she spoke to him, like she expected, at any minute, that something might explode out of it.
When Carrie drove her home, she didnt talk for the first ten minutes of the journey. She merely said, Carrie. Leave me. I have to digest.
Carrie left her. Eventually, after shed digested sufficiently, Sydney said, He belched throughout the ballet. It was like sitting next to an old pair of bellows. Christ, the orchestra should recruit him for the wind section.
Carries heart sank. He wasnt belching. He swallowed a toffee too quickly. It went down the wrong way. He kept apologizing.
And that fucking dog! His dead wifes dead fucking dog! Does he really think Im interested in how they fed it a diet of fresh chicken to try and quell its chronic flatulence? Are you interested, Carrie? Huh?
No.
Pardon?
No! No, Im not interested. Im not.
And I just cant believe
What? Carrie tried to keep her eyes on the road, but Sydneys expression What?!
The two of you
What?
Sydneys eyes were glued to the road ahead. It was starting to rain. Carrie turned on the windscreen wipers just in time with Sydneys next pronouncement.
Fucking.
Carrie said nothing. They both stared at the road. Eventually Sydney turned her eyes towards Carrie. Well?
Carrie said nothing. She focused on the road and the wipers and the rain and the way that the light from the streetlamps reflected in the drops of water on the windscreen before each harsh stroke brushed it away. Where do they go? She wondered. Where do those moments go? The rain falling in just such a way, the light, the wiper. Something there and then something gone.
Sydney found she was boiling. Not hot, but something inside. What else could she do? What else could she say? Carrie had closed down, shut up, like a clam. Sydney cursed herself. She was too impetuous. Too quick to judge. If only shed tried to be nice, to be supportive. Maybe then Carrie might have provided her with some details. Something to ponder, to mull over, fat to chew on. Damn! Sydney crossed her arms, stared at the road, boiled.
I got your number from the book, Heinz said.
Didnt I give it you?
No.
I shouldve.
She didnt like me.
No. Actually, I think she really hated you.
Sometimes I can be overwhelming. Its a fault of mine. I know that. But I am simply myself. When you get old
You tried your best.
But did I? One tends to forget how it is to uh to play the game.
Never mind.
Can I see you?
Pardon? Tonight?
Carrie rubbed her eyes with her spare hand. I only just got in. Its raining outside
Tomorrow?
Sydney lay on her stomach and rested the weight of her head on her hands. What was wrong? It was just she couldnt imagine. Carrie and that fat old man. My God! She just couldnt picture it. Not properly. Not graphically. She rolled on to her back. Couldnt imagine. But my Lord, my Lord, how she longed to!
Sydney stared at Jacks buttons. Jack pretended not to notice. Sydney sighed.