Page 52 of Thursdays at Orange Blossom House
She feels slightly nervous, like she’s waiting for him to ask her something. ‘For what?’
‘To go to Paris.’ He waves a hand. ‘Do all that other stuff.’
Now it’s her turn to look out the window. ‘Maybe not,’ she murmurs, ‘but it feels like it.’
When their eyes meet again, his are still intense and bright.
‘Do you have any dreams you didn’t chase?’ she asks, deciding it’s only fair that he reciprocate.
He smiles ruefully. ‘I was going to be a pro surfer.’
‘Really? I mean, I can see it.’
Now it’s his turn to blush.
‘You look like you fit the bill,’ Patricia adds hastily, gesturing towards his torso. ‘You have a tan. And you’re, um …’
Now she’s done it: set herself up to comment on his physique when that’s undoubtedly unprofessional and probably puts her in the same category as Mr Blake.
‘I’m what?’ Dennis says teasingly.
‘Athletic.’ She smiles tightly to show that she’s not trying to be inappropriate.
‘Thanks.’ He puts his elbows on the table, which shortens the distance between them.
‘So you never turned pro?’
He shakes his head. ‘I wasn’t good enough. When I was a grommet I was surfing with MP and those guys at Kirra.’
Patricia’s confusion must show on her face.
‘Michael Peterson,’ he explains, although Patricia is still in the dark. ‘He was a few years older but he was winning things. I guess I thought I was good enough to win tournaments too, and it sounded like a great idea – travelling the world to surf.’
‘So did you win anything?’
‘No.’ He glances down, but when their eyes meet again he holds her gaze and doesn’t break it. ‘My dad died. Heart attack. Sudden.’
Patricia wants to say the usual things –I’m sorry,that’s awful– but she senses he doesn’t want to be interrupted and, besides, those things are trite.
‘Mum couldn’t handle the mortgage on her own.’ He sits back in the chair. ‘So I got a job pulling beers, went to teachers college because I needed a career that I couldn’t easily be sacked from, and cut back my surfing to the occasional Sunday morning.’
‘That was good of you,’ Patricia says, ‘to support her.’
Dennis gives her a funny look. ‘It’s no different to what you’re doing.’
‘I guess that’s true.’ They stare at each other for a few seconds. ‘So … you didn’t marry?’
There’s no point pretending she doesn’t know he’s single. Marjorie knows the marital status of every teacher in the school and is not withholding of the information.
‘Nah.’ He smiles and shrugs. ‘I think I grew up a bit when Dad died, and I find it hard to meet women I can talk to. Plus I’m picky.’
He looks at her with intent. If Patricia didn’t know better she’d think he’s trying to tell her something – although that’s impossible. She is, most decidedly, too old for him.
‘Anyway,’ he says, standing up abruptly, ‘I’ve held you up long enough.’
‘I don’t mind,’ she says, and she really doesn’t. He’s more interesting than she’d presumed and she wouldn’t mind talking to him further.
‘Might catch you again some other afternoon,’ he says, and as he passes her she feels his hand press her shoulder lightly.
