Two Days

Chapter 1The blonde woman drew her eyes for two reasons that morning. The first was the conversation on the phone in what sounded like German. The second reason was the brightly patterned blouse tucked into a blue, pinstriped pencil skirt. The blouse was a blue and white striped number with red flowers sprinkled over it, the collar and cuffs of the three quarter length sleeves were finished off in white. Lindsay’s eyes flickered over her appearance. She was slim and tall with an athletic build and shoulder length blonde hair. Her face could only be described as beautiful in the classic sense of the word with a slim angular shaped face and when she looked briefly up at her, Lindsay noticed her eyes were sky blue. Their tables were next to each other in the outdoor section of the busy little café in Flinders Lane. She wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the tables under the umbrellas but she was the most distinctive. The woman was becoming agitated judging by the look on her face and at one point she turned to look down Degraves Street to the front window of Jack London before turning quickly back, a moment or two later she stared at the phone and shook her head. “Shizer,” she put the phone down, “bitch.” Lindsay looked quickly away, the German woman noticed her movement and coughed. “I am sorry for swearing.” “That’s okay,” Lindsay turned back to her, “it’s not against the law in Melbourne.” “Thank God for that,” she stared at her phone. “You’re German?” “Yes,” she ran a casual eye over Lindsay’s white blouse, “I remember modelling that blouse a couple of seasons ago, it looks good on you.” “You’re a model?” Lindsay’s eyes played over her, “you’ve certainly got the body for it, I’m a little short for that kind of work.” “Stand up,” the woman smiled, “let me take a look at you.” Lindsay hesitated before finally standing up to let the woman look at her shape. She was wearing a pair of jeans, denim jacket and a white blouse. It felt strange standing there while a total stranger checked her out and she flicked at her shoulder length brown hair nervously. “Turn around,” the woman indicated. Lindsay executed a slow turn and the woman nodded. “You are big in the bosom department but you are not so short. You are shorter than the average model but it is no barrier for you,” she smiled, “would you like to join me for coffee?” A minute or two later she was seated opposite the woman and she held her hand out. “I am Melina Wendel and you are?” “Lindsay Cunningham.” “Lindsay Cunningham,” Melina shook her hand and smiled, the name sounded different with her accent and Lindsay returned the smile. “Do you have a job?” “I’m an office temp for an agency out in Ringwood, it’s all agency work these days.” “Ringwood,” Melina dragged the name out, “where is that?” “It’s about thirty kilometres to the east,” she replied, “I came in by train.” A waiter approached in response to Melina’s signal. “Can I help you ladies?” “Yes, please. Another of the same and you?” “Latte, thank you,” Lindsay smiled. “Latte,” she looked at Lindsay, “I will have another croissant, would you like something to eat?” “No thanks,” she flicked at her hair, “I had something to eat this morning.” Lindsay’s phone beeped as the waiter retreated and she read the message from Jason. Jason: Hi, want to catch up today? Lindsay sighed and put the phone on the table as she regarded Melina. “So, where do you live?” “Croydon, London,” Melina checked one of her recent messages. “Wow, we’ve got a Croydon not far from Ringwood, but I’ll bet your Croydon is better than our Croydon.” “I don’t know,” Melina tapped the power button, “I have not seen much of Australia. We were brought here to model the new Coles Myer collection. I have seen St Kilda pier, a café and Swanston Walk?” She stroked her chin slowly. “Apart from that I have seen Southbank because that is where the hotel is located and now I am in Flinders Lane talking to you. Modelling is not as glamorous as people think. I spend all day getting changed, more makeup, stand here, turn this way, turn the other way, smile and by the end of the day I am too tired to go out. I sit in the hotel room and watch television or get on the Internet and chat to my friends.” “What about your boyfriend?” “I have not had a boyfriend since I was nineteen, I have had many girlfriends but right now I am single again, a relationship requires commitment but maybe one day soon I will find a nice woman and settle down,” she smiled. “You look shocked.” “Surprised,” Lindsay recovered, “you look so beautiful I was so sure you must have some Greek Adonis waiting for you.” “Don’t talk to me about Greek men,” she smiled crookedly, “if I had a dollar for every Greek man who asked me to marry him I could retire and live on his yacht.” “Well the next time one proposes, send him my way. All I’ve got are Australian men trying to get me to go to barbecues or hoping to swing a leg over.” “All men are like that but the gay men are quite interesting. I often go out with a gay guy in London when I just want a nice quiet night.” “So, are you working today or just relaxing?” “That is what the phone call was about,” Melina looked up as the waiter approached with their order, “I was supposed to work today and Monday, and fly out on Tuesday morning but because this is the Anzac weekend the shoot has been put forward to Tuesday and Wednesday. I had to ring my agent in London to tell her that I won’t be back until Friday at the earliest,” she nodded her thanks to the waiter. “I was hoping to stop over in Rome for a couple of days because I have another shoot planned for next Monday, now I will only have the weekend in London before flying to Prague.” “We call this country the land of the long weekend,” Lindsay chuckled, “every chance they get it’s a long weekend. I’m not into Anzac day myself but I do appreciate a long weekend.” “I looked it up this morning,” Melina stirred her latte, “it is to commemorate your war dead.” “Oh it’s still important,” she shrugged, “but my memories of Anzac day are the fact the days start getting a little milder. You can put on jeans and a jacket without losing a couple of kilos in sweat,” she smirked. “In Britain they would call this a heatwave,” Melina smiled. “Tell me about it,” she smiled, “I had this guy I met online came out from Britain over a year ago in January, he came off the plane and by the time we were halfway down the freeway he had his tee shirt of and was complaining about the heat.” “And what happened to your online friend?” Melina stirred her drink. “Ah,” she winced, “that is a lesson I learned very quickly. Mark proposed to me after three days, I was like what the hell brought this on? We were just friends and yeah, we liked each other and the s*x was,” she looked up, “pleasurable but not outstanding, I was like okay, let’s just take a step back from the edge and rethink our plan.” “And?” “I um, said no and Mark suggested I think about it and so I had to tell a big fat lie,” she paused and Melina’s eyes shifted. “I um, told him I was bisexual and couldn’t settle for a guy, even though I’m straight.” For a moment she thought she’d lost her but then Melina smiled crookedly. “I’m impressed, what did he say to that?” “The usual, he’d wait for me, it was okay if I wanted to have a girlfriend as well and that he really did like the thought of two girls getting it on together,” she propped on her palm. “Mark turned out to be a prize dickhead. Thank God he was only staying for two weeks, he tried to get his visa extended but I told him he couldn’t stay at my place and we parted on not very good terms. As far as I know he’s back in Britain and I haven’t heard from him since.” “Maybe he wanted to become an Australian citizen.” “Well I didn’t say it like that,” Lindsay replied, “but yeah, that was about the size of it. He thought he’d found his little Aussie sheila, Jesus I hate that word. A lot of guys don’t use that word to our face but behind our back, it’s used frequently. It’s even caught on overseas so that now a lot of foreign men call us sheilas. When Mark was staying with me, he kept calling me his sheila when he was trying to be romantic,” she fiddled with the collar of her blouse. “I told him my name was Lindsay not Sheila, but he couldn’t get out of the habit.” “I’ve heard the word used before,” Melina mused, “I don’t really understand the word, how do you put it? The word is lost in translation.” “I don’t know any German words but a British one might be crumpet or skirt, it’s considered crude here. The only time it’s kind of acceptable is in a comedy show where they’re sending up the typical Aussie lout.” The conversation moved onto lighter matters and Lindsay swiftly warmed to the woman. She had been modelling for twelve years and at the age of thirty was still working full time. She lived in Croydon, London but sublet a room to a gay guy who worked in a government department. She had two sisters and one brother and was born in Düsseldorf. She was currently staying in the Crown Towers at Southbank. “On the eighth floor,” she sighed, “I hate casinos no matter what city I am in, so many desperate people throwing their wages away for the chance of a lifetime.” “I have a bit of a flutter at the RSL,” Lindsay replied, “but I agree, it’s a bloody trap. My best friend from high school used to blow her wages regularly at the RSL, I used to loan her money for rent until one night I just said, f**k it, you lost it you earn it again. We got back together eventually and she doesn’t spend as much but they say it’s an illness,” she looked at Melina’s bemused smile. “What?” “What is the RSL?” “Returned Servicemen’s League,” she replied, “in the old days they were private clubs for returned servicemen. You could get in and buy alcohol if you signed the visitors book but you usually had to be with a member. These days they’re just like pubs and anyone can go, they’re actually quite nice places, you can order a decent meal, play the pokies, watch the footy or just drink.” “What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Melina sat back and folded her arms. “I don’t know, I was going to wander through the shops, maybe spend a bit of money and just sit by the Yarra and watch the world go by.” “I have a proposal for you,” she replied, “it is not the chance of a lifetime but an opportunity to earn a voucher,” she reached into her handbag and took out a purse. “I have this voucher from Karen Millen. They gave it to me in London as part of some promotional deal and because I have modelled their clothes before,” she put it on the table. “One thousand pounds,” Lindsay stared at the amount, “f**k me.” “Excuse me?” “Sorry, it’s an Aussie expression for that’s amazing.” “I like it,” Melina smiled crookedly. “That’s about,” Lindsay took out her phone, “wait, I have an app for that.” “One thousand, six hundred and twenty three dollars,” Melina replied, “and it’s yours if you do something for me.” “This isn’t one of those indecent proposals is it? Because I don’t do that kind of thing, maybe a million I would though.” “This is not s*x, I am not like that. If we have s*x it is because we like each other enough to get naked, my proposal is much simpler and probably more fun. I need a guide to show me around Melbourne today. It is ten thirty now and I want to be back at the hotel for eight. If you show me around Melbourne I will give this to you.” “Okay,” Lindsay looked thoughtful, “but I’m not a local, I live in Ringwood but I do come in here at least once a month, but you can get an app for that.” “I have one already but I would like an Australian to show me around. Tell me your memories of certain places, give me a sense of what it was like. You don’t have to tell me everything of course but maybe explain some of your Aussie slang as well?” Lindsay stared at the voucher and shook her head. “Bugger me,” she murmured, “this might not be the chance of a lifetime for you but it’s sure made my hair stand on end. For sixteen hundred dollars I’ll even take you to dinner, unless of course you’re on a diet.”