—10—
The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion
Route 78 tram to North Richmond
‘Rose, you’re going to send me into premature labour!’ Cat was curled over her laptop, ripples of laughter raging through her. ‘Your blog is priceless.’
‘Oh God, stop laughing! I feel bad enough as it is.’ Frankie was utterly mortified, not to mention dejected. ‘Who am I kidding, this whole book-planting mission is a farce! An utter waste of energy.’
‘Chin up, Frank. It was your first response. At least we know people are already loving your blog! You’re getting more hits than Claud’s knitting blog. And people are finding the books,’ Cat reassured her. ‘It’s not like we thought it would be all romantic strolls on the beach and talking about your childhood by the fire. At least she wasn’t a lunatic!’
‘Yes, Cat, the silver lining of the day.’ Frankie began to rearrange the counter displays, nervously tidying the gift cards. ‘You’re really not making me feel any better.’
‘Frankie, my dear, I don’t give a damn,’ Cat deadpanned.
Frankie tossed one of the bookmarks she was holding at Cat, who swiftly dodged it, letting it fall against the framed Knitting Championships Finalist poster on the back wall. ‘God, you’re quick for a pregnant person.’
‘Twerkshop. You really should join sometime.’ Cat gyrated, bottom first, towards Frankie. ‘Shake it off, Rose, you’ve got bigger fish to fry! Don’t you have your date with Sunny tonight?’ she purred.
Sunny. Frankie shuddered. For the first time in a long time, she felt nervous going into a date. Sunny was charming and mysterious but also unpredictable (especially when on moving vehicles). And what if the first man she’d been vaguely interested in in so long rejected her? Or worse yet, didn’t live up to her expectations?
‘Oh, my knitting needles!’
Cat and Frankie locked eyes as the muffled sound of Claud’s cries thrummed from the back office.
‘Oh Lord, what is it this time?’ Cat rolled her eyes.
A moment later the back door flew open, the force of it sending a small tremor along the shelves in the rear of the shop. Two books toppled to the floor.
‘You have got to see this.’ Claud stifled laughter, jabbing a finger at Cat, a piece of wool wrapped around it. ‘Look what my sister just forwarded me.’
‘What?’ Cat asked, curious.
Claud thrust his phone in Cat’s direction, angling the screen towards her.
Over the next fifteen seconds, Cat’s face told a miraculous story. From a look of barely concealed frustration, Cat’s expression turned to one of confusion, to crazed bewilderment, then to shock, back to confusion, then finally to a look of deep-set and unmistakable joy. Frankie looked on in amusement, until she peered over Cat’s shoulder, squinting at the screen. And then her jaw dropped.
‘What is this?’ She snatched the phone from Claud.
On the screen was what appeared to be a freeze-framed image of Frankie. The clip was paused on her mid-stance behind a cafe table with her face askew. Frankie looked up at Claud.
‘It gets better,’ Claud breathed. ‘Press play.’
She felt herself getting hot as she hovered her finger over the phone and, with a final groan, pressed play. She watched herself on the screen as she shot up, her hands jutting towards her crotch, as a stream of, yep that was definitely beetroot latte, ran down her white pants. And there, branded in white bold letters, flashed #PeriodGirl.
Frankie’s hand flew to her chest as she took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Those little bitches!’ she cried. ‘I’m. A. Meme!’
‘And a popular one at that, Rose. You’ve been shared …’ Cat reached for the phone, scrolling down, ‘more than four thousand times. There’s even a hashtag doing the rounds: #freetheflow. You’re an internet sensation!’
Frankie covered her mouth with her hands and stood statue still, staring blankly.
‘Look, she’s finally cracked!’ Cat waved her hand in front of Frankie’s unblinking face.
Putting her arm around Frankie’s shoulders, Cat guided her towards a chair. ‘All right, time to snap out of it, Frank.’ Cat quickly glanced at the door, checking for incoming customers, and, with nobody in sight, slapped Frankie across the face. Frankie yelped, grabbing her face.
‘Jesus, Cat! Talk about tough love.’
‘Welcome back, friend.’ Cat brashly rubbed Frankie’s cheek and crossed her arms. ‘Better?’
‘Oh God,’ Frankie said, putting her face in her hands.
‘Don’t worry about it, Frankie. It’ll be no time before you’re replaced by some hyperactive baby or emotionally unstable feline,’ Claud called over. ‘Embrace your fifteen minutes while it lasts!’ He threw his arms in the air in a gesture of excitement.
Frankie stayed slouched over in the chair. ‘Be a doll, Cat, and cancel my date with Sunny, please?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Cat exclaimed. ‘You are absolutely not getting out of this one, Period Girl!’ She shoved both hands under Frankie’s underarms and pulled upwards until Frankie was standing, mostly upright.
‘Enough self-pity. It’s time to get pumped!’ Cat picked up her phone and began to tap away furiously. ‘Okay, what do we feel like? Adele? No, too emotional. Some old-school Timberlake? Drake? Well, hello there, old friend!’ Cat flashed a saucy grin at Frankie. ‘Nelly.’
Frankie stood in front of her wardrobe, wrapped in a towel. She surveyed the options before her. Polka-dot dress? Too matronly. She squeezed her clothes along the rack. Silk V-neck singlet? Too risqué. She pulled out a white shift dress. Ach, too white!
She glanced at the clock on her wall. ‘Shit,’ she muttered. Sunny would be pulling up at her door in just over twenty minutes. Hastily, she grabbed a reliable pair of black jeans, threw on a delicately embroidered silk top and went to finish her hair. She opened her laptop on the bathroom bench and clicked on the YouTube clip waiting for her. Along with a dance-off, in which Frankie had begrudgingly allowed herself to be cajoled into participating, Cat had sent her an assortment of YouTube videos made by ‘leading dating-advice gurus and trailblazers’.
‘Haven’t you heard? YouTube is the new shrink,’ Cat had said. Frankie pressed play.
‘Three ways to be irresistible to a man!’ a squeaky voice declared. ‘One! When complimenting him, think outside the box!’ God, this girl is chipper. ‘Hone in on unique parts of him that people wouldn’t normally acknowledge! Say things like, “You have such a warm smile!” or “I really appreciate the way you seem to value what others have to say!”’
‘I really value you,’ Frankie addressed the mirror, wrapping a strand of hair around her curling iron. ‘I really like the way you give such novel dating advice.’ She nodded gravely. No amount of YouTube self-help guides could get her through tonight’s date.
As her buzzer sounded, Frankie ruffled her hair, loosening the curls so that they fell effortlessly across her shoulders, and skidded towards the intercom, swiping up her handbag on the way. ‘I’ll be right down,’ she called. She put her hand on the doorknob, closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. Be irresistible. Be confident. Embrace your femininity. Frankie rolled her eyes at herself and made her way downstairs.
Frankie pushed her way through the front door of the building and caught herself from visibly swooning at the Greased Lightning moment that greeted her. There, leaning casually against his car, was Sunny, wearing a worn leather jacket and dark jeans. At the sound of her arrival, he turned his head towards her, almost in slow motion, and grinned broadly. ‘Heya, Frankie,’ he called, making his way towards her. ‘Great digs.’ He planted a warm kiss on her cheek. Damn, he’s smooth.
‘Is this your car?’ Frankie asked, staring at the bright red Honda Civic.
‘It sure is.’ Sunny proudly patted the bonnet.
‘S-N-N-Y D-Y? Sunny Day?’ Frankie read the bold personalised number plate.
‘That’s my name,’ Sunny beamed.
‘Come on. Seriously? Your first name is Sunny and your last name is Day?’ Frankie said.
‘Yep. I know, parents can be so cruel,’ Sunny quipped as Frankie burst out laughing.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t worry. My name is horrendous as well,’ Frankie said through fits of giggles.
‘What’s your last name?’ Sunny asked.
‘Rose.’
‘Frankie Rose? There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s beautiful,’ Sunny said and Frankie’s heart fluttered. No need to confess that she was named after the train line on which she had been conceived. Not just yet, anyway.
In the car, Sunny leaned back deep in his seat, one hand on the wheel and the other resting against the open window.
‘So, where are we going?’ Frankie inquired as casually as possible. The nerves were hitting her in waves.
‘You’ll have to wait and see.’ Sunny’s lips curled into a half-smile. ‘So, that crew of yours at the bookstore. Bit of a quirky bunch, eh?’
‘My crew? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen them before in my life.’
‘Yes, I regularly call strangers Mum, just to see how they react.’
‘Calling strangers Mum, kissing them on public transport. What else do you like doing with unknown passers-by?’
Sunny chuckled. ‘Oh you know, just the usual stuff. Hand out my email password and give them a detailed list of my allergies.’
Frankie smiled in return. ‘If you are unable to digest pizza, this isn’t going to work.’
Fifteen minutes later they parked and walked a couple of blocks before pulling up outside what appeared to be a standard office building.
‘Where are we?’ Frankie looked around.
‘Right this way, my lady.’ Sunny held out his arm and nodded for her to follow the direction of his outstretched hand. As they walked towards the building, Frankie felt a shiver of electricity as his arm grazed hers. Did he mean to do that? He pushed open the door and led her through a white, marble lobby and then down a set of winding stairs, at the bottom of which stood a lofty bookshelf crammed full of dusty books. Frankie ran her hand along their spines.
‘Well, here we are,’ Sunny said proudly.
‘And where is here exactly?’ The only entrance Frankie could spot was the one they had just come down.
Sunny gave Frankie a wink and approached the towering shelves. He started to pull books out at random. ‘It’s got to be here somewhere,’ he said. ‘Uh-huh!’ He angled a faded blue hardcover book, and the shelf gave a click and creaked ajar.
Sunny looked back at Frankie with a smile. ‘I thought you might like it here.’ He placed both hands along the side of the bookshelf and heaved it open. Frankie stepped out from behind him and looked through this magical portal: there, revealed before her eyes, lay a dimly lit space bursting with plush antique armchairs, side tables stacked high with books and walls blanketed in lushly framed mirrors and eerie taxidermy. A bar stretched along one wall, and behind it stood a man in a crisp white shirt and suspenders, shining a whisky glass.
‘How on earth did you find this place? And how can I have not known about it?’
Unmistakably chuffed with himself, Sunny took her hand and led her to a chaise tucked away in the back corner. ‘Pretty great, hey?’
Frankie tried not to stare at Sunny. This gorgeous, effortlessly cool man, who so far was nailing the date. Play it cool, Frankie. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. She looked across the room at a woman standing at the bar, wearing an emerald gown with a low back, a peacock feather in her hair. A man dressed in a tuxedo crept up behind her, casually putting his hand on the small of her bare back. She turned and kissed him. A group of three women all dressed in brightly coloured skirts, huddled together conspiratorially, laughing heartily at a private joke shared. Oh God, I am so underdressed.
A waiter approached and handed them each a menu.
Frankie opened her menu and perused the list of cocktails. Gin and Twain, Bloody Jane, Grenadine Brooks, Lady Chatterley’s Loves Aperol, Gone with the Whiskey, Or-well, Better Make it a Double. This Young-Adult-reading man really pulled this one out of the woodwork.
‘Menu looks good, but there’s no The Fault in our Spritz or The Maze Rummer.’ Frankie looked up innocently. ‘Maybe they have a kids’ menu?’
‘So, just a Tequila Smugrise for you, then?’
‘Huh, there’s nothing arrogant about reading the classics!’ Frankie retorted. ‘It’s just common sense.’
‘Okay, Martini bit haughty, what can I get you, then?’ he asked with a cheeky grin.
‘A Margarita, Dahl-ing, please.’ She smiled sweetly.
‘Coming right up.’ Sunny walked off with their drink orders, Frankie’s gaze trailing him. Even from behind he was perfect. Frankie sighed, taking in her surroundings. She peered underneath the table sitting in front of her and spotted a stack of books. Okay, Frankie, so far so good. She picked up a copy of Animal Farm and searched for her favourite part about four legs being good, two legs being bad.
Sunny returned holding two clouded martini glasses topped with sugary rims. He placed one in front of Frankie and sat back down on the couch. Without a word, he took a long, exaggerated sip of his drink.
They sat for a moment, appreciating their drinks. ‘So, Sunny. When you’re not busy reading the latest Patrick Ness, what do you do with yourself?’
‘I work in advertising. But I’m sort of between jobs at the moment.’
‘How so?’ Frankie asked, immediately thinking, Great, my date’s unemployed.
‘I got a bit fed up with the culture at the last place,’ he said, taking another gulp of his drink. ‘Decided to pack it in and see if I could make it on my own.’
‘On your own? Like, start your own business or live off the land?’
‘The first one, I hope,’ Sunny said, a little too quickly. ‘What about you? What does Frankie Rose like to do when she’s not working at the bookstore or being kissed by strangers on the train?’
‘That about sums it up,’ Frankie answered.
Sunny raised an eyebrow, obviously unimpressed with her answer, but what else was there to say? She wasn’t exactly swimming in potential at the moment. He put his hand on top of hers, but she pulled away, trying to conceal her sudden feeling of rejection by picking up her drink.
‘You know, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever met a Frankie before. How did your parents come up with it?’ he tried again.
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Good thing I’m in no rush, then.’ He reclined and put a hand behind his head. ‘Humour me, Frankie.’
She sighed, and decided to share a little something. ‘Long story short, my mum had a moment of crazed impulsivity and decided to take advantage of an abandoned train carriage to do it.’
‘It?’
‘Yes, it.’
‘And what’s this got to do with your name?’ Sunny’s eyes began to crinkle.
God, she thought, how does he manage to smile with his whole face?
‘They were riding the, Fr …’ Frankie took a long drink as she mumbled the word ‘Frankston’.
‘What was that?’ He leaned towards her, thoroughly amused.
‘The Frankston line,’ she murmured.
‘The what line?’
‘The Frankston line. I’m named after the Frankston line!’ she said a little too loudly, drawing the attention of a waitress holding a tray of full champagne flutes.
Sunny broke into peals of laughter, holding his stomach.
‘Stop it, it’s really not that funny.’ Frankie lightly pinched his arm.
‘I’m just relieved it wasn’t the Craigieburn line. You don’t strike me as much of a Craig,’ Sunny said with a final laugh.
‘We can’t all have adorably seasonal names like you, Sunny Day.’
‘You think I’m adorable?’ he teased.
‘Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, I would, Frankston.’
Frankie couldn’t help but smile. But it was just too much trying to keep up with this sudden rollercoaster of a date. Did the playful remarks ooze friend-zone? Or a hint of flirtation? Frankie grabbed their empty glasses and shot up. ‘Next round’s on me.’
‘I’ll have The Girl on the Train please,’ he called as she headed towards the bar.
It wasn’t long before the waitress, wearing a sparkly flapper dress, bent down to slide their next round of drinks onto the table. She looked across at Frankie curiously. Feeling uncomfortable, Frankie averted her eyes.
‘Have we met before?’ the waitress asked. ‘You weren’t at Bobby Pentrith’s thirtieth the other week?’
‘Sorry, you must have me confused with somebody else.’ Frankie picked up her drink and turned towards Sunny.
‘No, I’ve definitely seen you somewhere,’ she persisted. ‘Do you live near the Streat cafe in Collingwood?’
‘Nope, sorry.’
‘Oh. My. God. I’ve got it!’ the waitress squealed. ‘My boss would kill me for asking this, but can we have a selfie together?’
‘This is so embarrassing, Sunny,’ she whispered. ‘I wrote a couple of books a few years ago, but I didn’t think anybody actually read them!’
‘A book?’ the waitress butted in. ‘No, you’re Period Girl!’
Frankie’s heart stopped. She snatched up her drink, sloshed it down in three huge mouthfuls and grabbed Sunny. ‘Sorry, we really should be leaving.’ Frankie dragged Sunny towards the door and up the stairs, and it was only once they were on the street that she dared look him in the eyes.
‘I don’t even know where to begin,’ she said, but stopped when she felt his hand squeeze her shoulder.
‘Why not start at the part where you said you wrote a book?’
Frankie peered up to see his soothing face staring back at her.
‘And then finish with a kiss.’ He smiled.