Dog Handling Part 8

"Neither can I. And I wish you hadn't let me eat all that garlic bread or I'd probably still be lying there being all Here to Eternity with him," Liv said as she rubbed some more arnica cream into her still bruised but now thankfully deflated ankle.

"Yeah, until Amelia decided to come looking for her boyfriend. Despite the fact that I think you should take your fun where you find it, I also think you ought to be careful not to p.i.s.s her off. She's a tough old cow." Alex turned off the television. "Shall we order in? Pizza?"

"Sure. Anyway, I don't see how Amelia can be such a hypocrite. It's not as if she isn't getting her oats elsewhere."

"Listen, Liv, I know for a fact that the RobertAmelia thing just isn't happening. They're not having an affair," Alex said sternly. Then she softened marginally to add, "And I don't want to sound like your mother, but you do know that Ben's probably not as sweet and harmless as he seems, don't you? I know he does that shy, flaky hesitant stuff, but I mean you don't get to snag Amelia Fraser, heiress with a penchant for spitting out Hollywood actors after breakfast, if you're not a major player. And in my vast experience major players tend not to be nice. And you, my angel, are about as sweet and tough as a jam doughnut," Alex said as she rifled through Liv's drawers for a take-away menu. "Just be careful."

"What on earth is this?" Alex was trawling through the cupboard looking for the pile of take-away food b.u.mph that nestles somewhere in every home. She pulled out a transparent plastic folder that Liv had never seen before from the bottom cupboard. "Under the telephone directories."

"Don't ask me. Pizza menus?" replied Liv, thinking that if Alex wanted to make her fancy Ben even more than she already did then she was going about it the right way. Dangerous. A player. When a girl just got out of a steady (terrible word) relationship with a wonderful man what was she looking for? Well, it certainly wasn't nice. And it certainly wasn't kind to babies and animals. Or even makes a great Bolognese sauce. It was danger, of course. Big red letters promising that if you go within the taped-off crime scene of this man then you're looking for serious trouble. For trouble meant l.u.s.t, s.e.x, ecstasy, and, yes, if you're not careful, a scorched heart. Which all seemed pretty tempting after five years of ishness with Tim.

"A dossier. Christ, you really have fallen for him, haven't you?" Alex sat down at the kitchen table and spread the contents of the folder across the table. "Amelia Fraser and unknown hunk at the Australian Music Industry Awards: 'Stunning heiress Amelia seemed to have put Brit-pop boyfriend Jonti Clarke behind her last night as she arrived dressed in a slinky black dress with a mystery male companion known only as Ben. She refused to be drawn on the subject, saying only, "I'm having a fabulous time tonight seeing some of Australia's finest musicians." ' " Alex flicked her way through a few more cuttings. "Could she be more bland if she tried?" Alex said.

"Thanks, Alex; you're a fab friend." Liv hobbled over to the table and heaved herself onto one of the chairs.

"Great dress, though," Alex muttered, and began to pack the Ben and Amelia Collection back into its folder. "But, Christ, all these pictures you've been cutting out of him. How long have you been doing this for, Liv?"

"Me? This wasn't me. How pathetic do you think I am? Just because I'm single doesn't make me a demented sad stalker of other people's boyfriends," said Liv. "It must have been Charlie's."

"Somehow I don't think so." Alex asked, slotting the folder back into the drawer, "But who else could they belong to?"

Liv shrugged her shoulders and looked closely at Amelia opening a possum sanctuary in Vaucluse when suddenly it hit her.

"It's not Charlie's folder. It's Laura's. And it's not Ben Parker she's interested in. It's Amelia." Liv's eyes lit up wide as this stroke of genius dawned on her. She whispered excitedly so that Laura couldn't hear, "It's Amelia. The friend of Charlie's who broke Laura's heart was Amelia Fraser. They had an affair. It all makes complete sense now." Liv limped back to the sofa triumphantly.

"Liv, you're so full of it," Alex said dismissively as she dialled up Arthur's Pizza. "First you're determined that Amelia's having an affair with Rob, which I categorically know not to be true."

"How?" Liv quizzed her. "It still could be."

"It's not." Alex shuffled her hair in front of her eyes a bit and looked shifty before continuing with renewed vigour, "Then you decide that she's actually gay and a heartbreaker to boot. Bit of an ulterior motive here? Like Ben, for example?"

"No, I'm right. You know, I'm sure she guessed that it was Ben Parker who I had a crush on, because when I said he was going out with Amelia she looked all pale and started praying. I mean how many Amelias does Charlie know?" Liv felt a bit like Miss Marple, but with youth on her side.

"None, I suppose," Alex conceded.

"Exactly. And she freaked when she saw the photo of Amelia on the fridge, the fact that she wouldn't come into the party when she knew that Charlie's friends, i.e., Amelia, was going to be there. See, I'm right. So where, I wonder, if Amelia is a d.y.k.e, does that leave Ben?"

"Well, as he's a bloke, probably pretty chuffed that he's scored a lesbian fantasy to be enjoyed in his own bedroom. For free. Do you want pineapple on yours?" Alex asked as she doodled a loveheart on the front of the telephone directory.

Later, when Alex had scoffed her pizza and gone for a shower, Liv wondered if she should go and make sure that Laura wasn't standing on the edge of the balcony wondering what it would be like if she left this big bad world forever. She decided that this was Laura's problem and she clearly had all the professional help and handy mantras a girl could hope for at her fingertips. Though Liv was longing to know whether Amelia did swing both ways. Actually, Liv hoped that she didn't, because that would make her a bit more interesting. Looks were quite enough without interest tossed in to ruin Liv's chances even further. Still, poor Laura. Liv would just have to be kind and let her know that she was there for her. She'd smile warmly a lot and leave nice Post-it notes around and replace all the wine that she had drunk in the last few weeks. Show she cared a bit. Right now Liv had to prepare for the night she came face-to-face with fate. "Look out, Ben," she said to herself as she softened the edges of her eyeliner and hitched her b.o.o.bs up over the precipice of her trusty old bodice. Yes, the Chloe of wet streets of Notting Hill fame, though all that was now thankfully forgotten. As was her wedding to Tim. In fact, the only fantasy she was indulging anymore had this tacky happy ending that involved Liv and Ben Parker somewhere hot with a c.o.c.ktail umbrella in the background. Heedless of her swollen ankle, Liv struggled into a pair of Alex's Manolos. She practised her evening in her head: Ben Parker pushed her backwards onto a chaise longue (blissfully not the balding maroon velour usually found in pubs but a kind of soft damson velvet from Wallpaper magazine) and deftly unlaced her corset until her bosom spilled voluminously into his large, warm hands. His kisses were salty with the taste of the oysters they'd just shared, her mouth sticky with the juices of the Persian honey cake he had just placed piece by piece between her eager lips . . . and now . . . feasting not on Turkish delight or lobster but . . . oh, the crescendo of pleasure . . . her right nipple.

"Oh, you look fabulous in those shoes!" Alex squealed, and Liv smudged her lipstick in a b.l.o.o.d.y-looking red mess up to her nose. Alex was resplendent in jeans and a white T-shirt. Liv had on her satin trousers and hair a foot high with product. "But you do know we're only going to the Grand National, don't you?" Alex said as she sc.r.a.ped her hair back into a loose ponytail.

"What? For a quick drink before the party? Sure, that's fine," Liv said, thinking that it would give her time to work out the exact angle she could tilt forward so as to be stunningly s.e.xy but not pouring her t.i.ts onto Ben's lap. "Where's Charlie tonight?" she asked.

"Oh, he's gone to some conference in Canberra. So while the cat's away I thought we'd go and play with some locals. It's c.r.a.p coming all this way just to see the same old faces. I mean how many real Australian accents have you heard yet?" Alex quizzed Liv as they hopped in a cab to the Grand National.

"Well, quite a few, actually. There's Laura. Then there's Justin the surf instructor. And Ben and Amelia and Rob."

"Oh yeah, actually, Rob might just pop into the pub later." Alex smiled.

"Great. We can all go on to the party together."

But Alex wasn't really paying attention. "Which is just what I mean. Rob's about the only real Australian we know. Tonight I thought we'd leave the poncy crowd behind and meet some blood-and-guts Aussies. Dyed-in-the-wool. Okka. A bit of rough," she whispered huskily as the cabby grinned a black-toothed all-my-Christmases-have-come-at-once-type salivating grin.

"But we are going to the party later, right?" Liv asked as she thrust a tip into the cabby's hand and tried to ignore the disconcerting way he whistled his heavy breathing through the gaps in his teeth.

"What party?" Alex asked as they approached the Grand National, a pub that, despite a new lick of paint, hadn't managed to shrug off the locals.

"Ben's party. The one he invited me to last night. The one I got dressed up for. I don't usually hoik my t.i.ts up under my chin just so some bloke in a scruffy bar can have a laugh trying to rest his pint on them," Liv said anxiously.

"Oh, Liv, you never said. I've been planning this all week. Oh, s.h.i.t, I'm sorry." Alex looked genuinely guilt-stricken. "We can always go along later if you like. I mean I'm sure that Rob and the boys won't mind."

"Oh, don't worry." Liv put on a brave face, knowing that later she wouldn't feel up to it and her chest would be too exhausted to perform.

"If you're sure. I tell you what. I'll invite Ben and Amelia over to dinner one night next week and sit you and him at the opposite end of the table to Amelia and feed him oysters just to make up for it," Alex promised, and looped her arm through Liv's as she and Alex swayed in through the doors of the pub like Mae West into a Western saloon. The men on the other side wished they had their pistols at the ready. Liv ran her hand through her hair in a bid to lose a few inches and followed in Alex's already-feted wake.

"Can I get you anything, love?" A man in moleskins took a step forward from the bar and offered Alex his stool.

"Holy s.h.i.t, that's the first time Tom's taken his a.r.s.e off that stool in thirteen years!" his mate yelled from the snug.

Liv and Alex smiled, took their gla.s.ses, and sat at a small round table under the window.

"So before the boys get here I thought we should have a bit of a chat." Alex took a sip of her wine.

"Sounds ominous," Liv said, hoping that it didn't concern men, because she was actually b.l.o.o.d.y bored of being so overa.n.a.lytical right now and if she couldn't be getting hot and heavy with Ben, then she'd rather just shut the whole subject out for a while.

"Not at all. Actually, I had a business proposition for you." Alex continued, "I've been thinking about Greta's Grundies and how for James and Dave it'll always just be a hobby. Their Sat.u.r.day afternoon social club. But you know, I think it could be a really successful business. The branding's bang on, the boys have so many contacts, and between you and me I reckon we could make it a really profitable company."

"Really?" Liv hadn't really thought of Greta's Grundies as a major business proposition, but well, maybe it could work. "But what would we do? Buy the boys out?"

"Exactly. We could arrange to pay them in instalments, give them shares, and then expand, expand, expand." Alex had clearly thought this through.

"I don't have any money at all," Liv thought out loud for a moment.

"Well, I can sell some stocks; you could remortgage your flat or something," Alex offered helpfully.

Wow, clearly Liv's accountancy brain had deserted her over the last couple of months. "Yeah. I think you're right. We'd have to talk to James and Dave, though. It's totally their baby."

"If you're agreed in principle then that's great. And think of the contacts we have here. I reckon Amelia will really help us, too, if we ask her. She's so well connected," Alex concluded.

"Yeah, and she'd want to call it Amelia's Adorables or something pukey." Liv wasn't too happy about this part of the deal.

b.l.o.o.d.y Perfect Amelia. She could very well live without her. Amelia's Adorables. Adorable Amelia. Eugh. And anyway, why hadn't Liv been called Amelia? The name that tinkled like a bell when you said it, instead of Lumpy Liv, who was always just a lady's maid in Victorian England. You couldn't help but fall in love with Amelia, could you?

"Ben, meet Amelia with the tinkling name and body of the Sugar Plum Fairy." How could any man resist? Well, lucky Ben, he'd certainly come a long way since his early fumblings in that Provencal barn. Liv wondered if he ever thought back to it. Wondered if as they lay on Amelia's crisp linen sheets bathed in moonlight Amelia and Ben ever discussed their first s.e.xual experiences and giggled fondly. Probably not. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, I had this English girl. Not a patch on an Aussie by the way. They're always covering up their b.o.o.bs and diving under the covers. Or in this case the straw. Honestly, talk about looking for a needle in a haystack. Except not very needlelike. More of a s.p.a.ce hopper." At which Amelia would turn and kiss his breastbone, her lithe body in no danger of being concealed. Why would you bother, she probably wondered, putting a dishcloth over the Mona Lisa?

"Liv, what on earth are you doing?" Alex asked as Liv came to her senses and realised she'd been shredding the beer mat into confetti. "I reckon you need some decent s.e.x. That's a sign of s.e.xual frustration."

"Thanks. Terribly helpful, Al, given my only candidate for romance is probably flirting with some other new girl in town at a party in his flat in Double Bay as we speak and will have taken my lack of appearance at his party tonight as total disinterest and will never even waste his breath speaking to me again." Liv humphed and scattered the remains of the beer mat across the floor.

"You might fancy one of Rob's mates, though," Alex said brightly, and uncannily on cue Rob and a couple of his less-than-Cartier mates walked in. Liv smiled and gave a little wave, hoping that after her embarra.s.sing seduction efforts the last time she'd seen Robert she wouldn't actually have to look him in the eye, but Alex had other ideas. She leapt to her feet and greeted Robert with the warmth an Academy Awardwinning actress usually bestows upon her little gold Oscar. She fluttered a lot and even tripped up on her way to the bar. Once there she kissed her statuette, formerly Rob, demurely. "Robbie," she said. Liv finished off the packet of Cheese Twisties in peace and watched the performance. "Come and join us."

Liv grinned as she shook hands with Tommo and Simmo, Robert's burly oil-encrusted entourage. Rob ordered the obligatory round of VBs and smiled broadly as he and his boys came and sat down at the table, their large knees and wide chests making the little corner of the pub suddenly feel very full. Liv was embarra.s.sed for all of a second as Rob kissed her on both cheeks; then she realised he was smiling so hard at Alex that even if Liv had spent her afternoon at the races demanding he demonstrate the kama sutra with her on the coffee table and not merely engaged in a bit of feeble flirting, he would have pushed it to the back of his mind in the wake of Alex.

"So I'm surprised you're not at Benjy's party tonight." Rob emerged from the shade of Alex's eyelashes and addressed Liv.

"Why would you be surprised?" she asked, wondering just what Alex had been saying about her puppylike crush.

"Ah, just that Amelia was saying that she thought you had a bit of a soft spot for him. That you guys had something going when you were like ten years old. She thought it was really cute," Rob said, with no idea that he was felling Liv's dreams and pride like a woodcutter with a chain saw.

"Well, as for having a soft spot for him, I hardly think so," Liv snapped defensively. "Actually, the last thing I'm interested in right now is relationships."

"Oh really. That's a bit of a shame," Simmo, who until now had been gazing at the head on his VB as though it were the elixir of life, suddenly piped up.

"What are you interested in then, mate?" Tommo asked, like what else was there apart from s.e.x?

"Actually, my work. Alex and I are going into business together and I've just got out of a five-year relationship, so I think love's the last thing on my mind," Liv said firmly.

"Yeah, Liv's really focused right now," Alex chimed in.

Thank G.o.d for some loyalty at long last, Liv thought. G.o.d knows where Alex's head had been lately, but it wasn't devoting much of its time to helping Liv. "So there." Liv sipped her drink in what she hoped was a businesswoman-type way and tried to pretend she wasn't oozing b.o.o.bs everywhere.

Still, while Liv had clearly deflected the attention away from the idea that she might fancy Ben, for the time being she was secretly mortified at what Amelia had apparently said. Was that how everyone saw her, the hopeless wet English girl who used to follow Ben around? Someone to be indulged like a pathetic pet? Liv imagined that Amelia definitely thought so. Well, at least she knew now that Ben was just being charitable. Probably it was Amelia's good deed for the day to make him snog her because she'd heard that Liv couldn't even get Fat Will to call her back. n.o.blesse oblige or something like that. Playing Lady of the Manor seeing to the peasants' best interests. So Liv began to accept that she wouldn't ever find herself on the receiving end of Ben's lips again, apart from when he told her to get lost. And now she'd missed his party and probably wouldn't see him for decades.

Still, she craved the idea that she might run into him when she was looking gorgeous in some restaurant one night. b.u.mp into him in six weeks' time when she was out in the surf, standing atop her surfboard looking like some G.o.ddess of the deep with miraculously Australian thighs and a golden tan. Because in six weeks she was going to be beautiful and modelesque of course. It was always in six weeks. This seemed to be the optimum time for any miraculous makeover transformation to take place. If you bought a cellulite cream you had to rub it in religiously for six weeks before your thighs were no longer mistaken for the surface of the moon by Russian s.p.a.ce stations; if you enrolled at the gym you'd continue to wobble precariously on the treadmill until the sixth week, when you became GI Jane in Adidas leggings; and if you embarked upon a draconian detox diet you had a headache and felt weak for six weeks, then became clear-skinned and happy. There was no such thing as instant perfection. One always seemed to have to wait six weeks. In theory. But Liv knew that once the six weeks were up, if you hadn't just got bored and forgotten that you were waiting for the New You to emerge from a chrysalis, then you were generally still You. Same wonky eyebrow, same short neck, same ugly feet.

"Well, mate, it was good to see you again." Rob slapped Liv on the back and turned to Alex. "So give my regards to Charlie, won't you?" he said in a bad, stagy way. There was a lot of ham acting going on tonight, Liv noticed but was too tired to be bothered to think any more about it. They had managed to pa.s.s the evening with perhaps not the most fun you can have on a Friday night, but it was in no way too boring. Liv had quite enjoyed hearing a few dirty jokes, and Rob was surprisingly sharp and clever for a stable hand. And Alex had been in fine form, chatting about her thesis and her plans for the business and proudly telling stories about her brothers. It hadn't been too bad at all, given that it was very much not Ben's party.

"Good night, all," Liv said as she clambered into the back of a taxi and waited for Alex to glide in beside her. But instead Rob shut the cab door firmly. Alex just stood there waving. "I'm off to Charlie's. I left my toothbrush there and you know I can't get to sleep without cleaning my teeth. I'll call you in the morning." Alex smiled and watched Liv sail round the corner without her.

Liv unlocked the front door and tiptoed past the hut. She could hear the faint murmur of sobs and she noticed that there was a crack of light seeping under Laura's door, but she also noticed Jo-Jo's pink handbag on the coffee table in the cottage so presumed that whatever the current crisis, Jo-Jo would handle it. Poor Laura, thought Liv, what a witch Amelia must have been to crush her this much. Liv really did want to find out what precisely had happened, but the time never seemed right to risk another pasta-disasta or some tirade of chanting and mumbling, so she'd just kept her curiosity to herself. Liv spotted the answer machine flicking away in the corner and tapped the b.u.t.ton, probably only her mum or Laura's shrink. The two most trusty callers they had.

"You have one new message. Message One sent at eleven thirty-nine P.M.

" 'Hey, this is a message for Liv.' " It was male, Liv could make out, but sounded a bit whispered, like the guy had wrapped a curtain round himself before speaking. " 'It's Ben. Ben Parker. Listen, I'm sorry you couldn't make it tonight. I hope everything's okay, 'cause I was kind of expecting you and I know it's late notice, but I was wondering if, as we didn't get a chance to catch up tonight, you'd like to come along tomorrow to spend the afternoon on the harbour with us. There'll be a crowd, I'm afraid, but well, I'd love to see you again. We're meeting on Rose Bay Jetty at twelve-thirty. Erm. That's it. Hope you can make it. Bye.' "

Liv thumped down onto the sofa and stared at the machine as though it were playing an elaborate joke on her and any second now would yell, "April Fool, you idiot!"

Liv looked at the clock and wondered if it was too late to call Alex. It was just gone midnight, and as Charlie wasn't there, it didn't really matter if she woke her.

"Alex," Liv said. "Still awake?"

"Sure am, petal," Alex said but sounded a bit preoccupied. It occurred to Liv for one split second that she might be indulging in a spot with Rob the groom, but she remembered that he was as poor as a church mouse so put that one into the "unlikely" basket.

"I've been invited to Ben's thingy tomorrow," Liv said.

"Ben's thingy, eh? And what would that be?" Alex laughed.

"The harbour thingy."

"Oh, the party on the Millie?"

"What's the Millie?" Liv feared she already knew.

"It's Amelia's yacht . . . named after her, naturally."

"Naturally. Listen, are you going?" Liv suddenly didn't feel like leaping up and down like a rock star on the sofa anymore as she had done when she'd first got Ben's message. "Does that mean I have to wear a bikini, by the way?" She knew it shouldn't matter, but lying seminaked in the unforgiving Sydney sunshine was only marginally more appealing than sticking hot needles under her fingernails.

"Yeah, we are. Well, I'm going. You could pretend to be an English rose and wear something floaty," Alex rea.s.sured her.

Liv looked at the abandoned pile of beading and feathers on the sofa. She'd spent the last few days trying out designs for Greta's Grundies, and maybe she could cobble something together. And perhaps, if she finished this tonight, she would be able to go to the ball after all tomorrow.

"Okay, I'll be there. What time?" Liv edged her way towards the needle and thread.

"Ohhh, I, erm, oohhhh, I don't know. . . ."

"Alex, are you having s.e.x? Only if you are don't let me interrupt you-"

"Sorry, Livvy, no, you're not interrupting anything. I was just . . . cleaning my teeth. Now what time? Oh, I reckon about twelve-ish. See you there."

So who else could Liv call in a crisis? Suddenly she missed Tim. He used to be her late-night advice line and she felt quite capable of talking to him these days without even a glimmer of a tear, in fact, she thought, with no flicker of sadness, which was pretty amazing. Still, what would she say? "Hey, whoopee dooo, I've been invited to expose my pallid flesh on Ben Parker's girlfriend's yacht, which is named after her, tomorrow. Do you reckon I stand a chance of scoring some love?" Not exactly, she decided. Ah, Liv knew who'd she'd call, her boys.

"Dave?"

"Livvy?"

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"Okay, fire away, but you do know that you're interrupting a pretty impressive dream scene where I was about to seduce Brad Pitt right in front of Jennifer, don't you?"

"Sorry, but my need is greater than Brad's." Liv lay back on the sofa and began to sew herself the dreamkini.

"Brad just doesn't know his needs yet. So what's the problem?"

"Problem is that . . . well, did I tell you about the beach thing? About Charlie's party when I went and sat on the sand with Ben Parker and he tried to kiss me?" Liv asked.

"Okay, now you have my attention." Dave audibly sat up and listened.

"When did I last speak to you?"

"Yesterday morning when you were being a sad bint because the fat boy hadn't called."

"Oh my G.o.d . . . okay, well the thing is this: quite a lot has happened since then. . . ," Liv began.

And Liv related, to the strains of much oohing and ahhhing and "lucky b.i.t.c.h"-ing on the other end of the phone, her past twenty-four hours. She relived it all in glorious Technicolor herself and when she was finished put her needle down and waited for Dave to say, "Lucky you. Go for it, baby." Which was, after all, the only reason she'd called him. To confirm that she wasn't morally bankrupt for wishing that Ben would kiss her even though he was going out with someone and that her karma wasn't going to be kaput for all eternity because she wouldn't be the one making the phone calls and the moves. She'd be the innocent party slayed by Ben's devastating charm and entirely blameless. h.e.l.l, from what Rob had said earlier on it sounded as though Amelia might even sanction Ben's seduction of Liv.

Sadly, though, Dave said no such thing.