Would you mind close to her ear if I sat next to you and put my bag on the other seat?
My God! Carrie thought, fixing her eyes on the stage curtains and breathing a sigh of relief at their preliminary twitchings.
Brazil?
Ten minutes in, Heinz was whispering to her.
What?
Brazil? Go on. Have one.
No, thank you.
Go on!
No. I dont actually like brazils. Nuts give me hives.
Heinz closed the box and rested it on his lap.
During the intermission, Heinz regaled Carrie with tales about the relative exclusivity of the Turner and Booker prizes. He liked the opera, it turned out, especially Mozart. He found camomile tea to be excellent for sleeplessness. He was a widower of seven years.
Carrie noticed how the boxs other regulars smiled at her sympathetically whenever they caught her eye. It was odd, really, because actually, with increased acquaintance, Heinz wasnt all that bad. In fact, if anything, hed made her the centre of attention in the box. The focus, the axis. She felt rather like Princess Margaret opening a day care centre in Fulham.
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.
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.
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.