The Dating Game. Sandra Field
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the thing to keep the rows straight.’
His garden was a replica of her landlady’s. ‘I like things messy,’ Julie said apologetically. ‘You don’t think Mrs LeMarchant will mind, do you?’ Mrs LeMarchant was her landlady.
‘I’m sure she won’t,’ the general replied, with more gallantry, Julie suspected, than truth. ‘I had a letter from her today; she’s doing very well in Vermont with her sister.’
And you miss her, thought Julie. ‘How’s her sister getting along since her heart attack?’
The general chatted away for half an hour, then Julie did her best to relieve the rigid straightness of the concrete path to the front door with masses of petunias, watched by Einstein, who also liked digging haphazardly in the garden. Danny came home from school. She made supper and cleaned up the dishes, and when Scott joined them got the two boys to help her wind the hose and hang it on the shed wall. Then she went back in the house to get a drink of juice.
Einstein was crouched on the kitchen floor with a rat under his paws. The rat, she saw with a gasp of pure horror, was not dead.
She backed up slowly, fumbled for the screen door and edged through it. Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly close the door.
Danny clattered up the steps. ‘We’re going to play cowboys,’ he said and reached for the door.
‘Don’t go in there,’ Julie faltered. ‘Einstein’s caught a rat.’
‘A rat—wow!’
‘It’s not dead,’ she added, wringing her hands. ‘What will I do?’
If she called the general, he’d probably want to blow the rat’s head off with a shotgun; the general had an immoderate fondness for guns. Or else, she thought numbly, remembering the network of tiny veins in his ruddy cheeks, he might have a heart attack like Mrs LeMarchant’s sister. No, she couldn’t ask the general.
‘Aren’t you going to get your holsters, Danny?’ Scott cried, bouncing up the steps.
‘There’s a rat in the house,’ Danny said with evident relish. ‘Mum says it’s not dead. Einstein caught it.’
‘Jeepers...a real rat?’
‘I can’t go in there,’ Julie muttered. ‘I’m being a lousy role model but I’m terrified of rats.’
Scott let out a war-whoop. ‘I’ll get my dad,’ he said; ‘he’ll fix it.’
‘No, you mustn’t—’
‘Let’s go!’ Danny cried, and the two boys took off down the street. The rest of Julie’s protest died on her lips because there was no one there to hear it. The general would have been better than Teal Carruthers, she thought grimly, and looked down at herself. Her sneakers had holes in them, her knees were coated with mud, and her T-shirt had ‘Handel With Care’ emblazoned across her chest under a portrait of the composer. As for her shorts, they should have been thrown out when she moved.
Inside the house Einstein meowed, a long, piercing howl that almost made her feel sorry for the rat. She shuddered. A half-dead rat on the white kitchen tiles could not by any stretch of the imagination be called apple-pie order.
A black car turned into her driveway, pulling up behind her small green Chevette. The boys erupted from it, and in a more leisurely fashion Teal Carruthers climbed out. He too was wearing shorts, designer shorts with brand-new deck shoes and a T-shirt so close-fitting that her stomach, already unsettled, did an uneasy swoop.
‘What seems to be the problem?’ he drawled.
‘There’s a rat in the kitchen,’ she said, and through the open screen heard Einstein howl again.
‘Sure it’s not a mouse?’
In a flash of insight Julie realized what he was implying. The rat, in his view, was nothing but a trumped-up excuse for her to see him again. She was chasing him. Just like all those other women. In a voice tight with rage she said, ‘I once accidentally locked myself in the basement with two live rats. Trust me, Mr Carruthers—this is no mouse.’
Teal picked up a pair of heavy gloves from the back seat and closed the car door. ‘Two meetings in less than twenty-four hours hardly qualifies as minimal,’ he said, climbing the back steps.
‘I didn’t ask you to come here!’ Julie spat. ‘Our two sons did that. As far as I’m concerned you can go straight home and stay there—I’ll ask the brigadier general to come over; I’m sure he’d be delighted to blast his way through my house with a shotgun.’
‘I’m here now; I might as well have a look,’ Teal said. With a twinge of remorse he saw that she was genuinely pale, her hands shaking with the lightest of tremors. Mouse or rat, she’d had a fright.
She was wearing those goddamned shorts again.
‘Can we come, Dad?’ Scott begged.
‘No, you stay out here...I won’t be long.’
The two boys glued themselves to the screen door, peering through to see what was happening. Julie leaned back against the railing, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, every nerve on edge. She jumped as Einstein emitted an uncouth shriek expressive of extreme displeasure. Two minutes later Teal pushed open the door, the rat dangling from one gloved hand. ‘Have you got a shovel?’ he said. ‘I’ll bury it for you.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Danny said eagerly. ‘Can we have a proper funeral?’
Teal took one look at Julie’s face; she was backed up against the railing as far as she could go, cringing from the dead animal in his hand. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said drily, and started down the steps.
Julie stayed where she was. Her knees were trembling and she had no desire to go inside and face Einstein’s wrath. The last time she and Robert had been together, two rats had gotten in the basement of their house. Robert had laughed at her fears, neglected to set traps and announced that he was divorcing her for another woman. Two days after he had gone back to New York the latch at the top of the basement stairs—which she had twice asked him to mend—had trapped her in the basement. She had been there for four hours, along with the rats, until Danny had come home from school and released her. Even thinking about it made her feel sick.
When Teal came back, she was still standing there. He said tersely, ‘Have you got any brandy?’ She shook her head. ‘Get in the car and we’ll go over to my place—you could do with a good stiff drink.’
He was scarcely bothering to disguise the reluctance in his voice. ‘Oh, no—no, thanks,’ Julie said. ‘I’ll be fine now that I know the rat’s not in the house any more.’
Teal gave an impatient sigh. If he had the slightest sense he’d leave right now. She was a grown woman, and definitely not his responsibility. He heard himself saying, ‘Scott, go over to the house and bring back the brandy, will you? The dark green bottle with the black label. Put it in a paper bag and don’t forget to lock the door again.’
‘C’mon, Danny,’ Scott yelled, throwing his leg over the seat of his bicycle. ‘Let’s pretend we’re ambulance drivers.’
Wailing like banshees, the two boys disappeared from sight. ‘I wish you’d go, too,’ Julie said raggedly. ‘You don’t want to be here any more than I want you here.’
A lot of Teal’s work dealt with the shady areas of half-truths and outright lies; he found Julie Ferris’s honesty oddly refreshing. ‘You look as though you’re either going to faint or be sick,’ he said. ‘Or both. And I have to clean up your kitchen floor. Let’s go inside.’ Hoping it was not obvious how little he wanted to touch her, he took her by the arm. She was trembling very lightly and her skin was cold, and he felt a swift, unexpected surge of compassion. More gently he said, ‘You need to sit down, Julie.’
Tears suddenly flooded her eyes, tears