Page 28 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘I’m intrigued,’ he said, looking as if I was about to impart a piece of scandalous gossip rather than a precedent relevant to contract formation.
‘There’s a case that went to the Australian High Court. It’s about the legal principle of unconscionable conduct, but that’s not the interesting bit.
‘The case is about a man who was totally infatuated with this woman. He bought her heaps of presents, showered her with affection, and just generally lost his mind.
‘Then, she told him that she was depressed, was going to be evicted from her house and would hurt herself if that happened. So the guy bought her a house.
‘When his senses returned, he asked her to transfer the house into his name. She refused. It ended up going all the way tothe High Court. And the court gave him back the house because they decided that she’d made him so emotional that he’d acted against his own interests.’
‘So,’ Alex said slowly, ‘they basically made a law that means that if someone makes you emotionally dependent on them, and then uses that dependence to manipulate you into making decisions against your own interests – well, that’s enough to invalidate a contract.’
‘Exactly!’ I got the sense that Alex would have been at the top of any class, across any faculty. Even by my fifth year most of my classmates couldn’t summarise a case both as quickly and accurately. ‘That’s what the highest court in our country decided.’
‘The law will undo the actions of someone who lets their heart overturn their head,’ Alex said. I could practically see him turning this concept over in his mind, playing with its ramifications. ‘What do you think?’
‘In Contracts A it didn’t matter what I thought. It’s the law,’ I said.
‘But I’m not giving you a grade. What doyouthink?’ he asked again.
I paused to weigh up my reply.
‘I think the High Court made the wrong decision,’ I said. ‘Being carried away by emotions isn’t a defence for making silly choices. If you can’t control your heart, then that’s on you.’
‘Even if the other person behaves badly?’ he asked.
‘Even then,’ I said. ‘People are responsible for making their own sensible decisions. I don’t think you get to blame someone else.’
I took a long sip of my drink. I waited for the expression on his face that would make it clear that I’d failed his test. Except his eyes sparkled and he held my gaze in silence as hismouth slowly pulled into a half-smile. My stomach did a small somersault.
‘Can you tell me more about your research? Or do you never want to talk about it again?’ I asked.
‘I think it’s the only thing Icantalk about,’ he said. ‘I’ve lived and breathed it for the last few years.’
‘So give me the idiot’s guide,’ I said.
‘I don’t think you need the idiot’s version of anything,’ he said. This time I felt my heart do a somersault.
‘Okay, fine. But I only studied chemistry and biology until year eleven. So, you might need to go slow on the science side of things—’
Glass smashed a few tables over from ours, then there was a howl of pain. Alex froze.
‘Can someone call nine-nine-nine? He’s bleeding! Like a lot!’ a plummy, but very worried, voice called. ‘Is there, like... a doctor in here?’ I could tell that she was slightly embarrassed to be using a line straight out of a medical drama, but on balance was too panicked to act cool.
There were a few glances across sticky pub tables. I could tell that a lot of people in the room were entitled to use the prefix ‘doctor’ but felt that a speciality in Victorian Gothic literature might not be needed.
I rifled through my bag for my phone before realising it was in my pocket. By the time I stood up, Alex was out of our sofa and was kneeling next to the table at the epicentre of the drama.
‘He’s quite drunk.’ The posh girl was wide-eyed as she explained. The whole room had fallen silent as we watched the drama unfold. ‘And he accidentally dropped his glass. And I think one of the bits of glass bounced up and cut him.’
That was an understatement. Blood was pouring from her friend’s long, thin arm that was poking out of a Jack Wills T-shirt. The arm’s owner clearly had a pale complexion to begin with but right then looked ghostly.
Alex moved closer to him. ‘Okay, mate. I know this is overwhelming, but I’m a doctor and I’m going to help you. The first thing I’m going to do is lift up your arm.’ He spoke calmly but with total confidence. The girl looked visibly relieved that she was no longer in charge.
‘Now I’m going to take my jumper and gently tie it around the cut,’ Alex said. With the hand that wasn’t holding the bleeding arm he pulled his university hoodie from around his waist and in one deft motion wrapped it around the bleeding forearm and then placed his hand around the material to hold it in place.
‘Has someone called an ambulance?’ Without turning around, he spoke to the crowd, which was still silently but avidly watching on.
‘It’s on its way,’ one of the bartenders called out from the back of the room.
