The Colour of Sunday Afternoons Page 17

  "Yeah, I think so. I've always been ambitious. It’s a natural step. But enough about work. What's this I hear about a new woman in your life?"

  Joe winced. "There's really nothing going on. We're just friends."

  "Friends, eh?" Michelle looked unconvinced.

  "Okay, think what you will. We're just friends.” Joe looked at his watch. “Anyway, I'd better get moving. Gotta make City Hospital by three. Good luck with your meeting. Don’t worry – Kerryn’s okay."

  Joe jumped up from his desk and began to leave.

  "Good luck to you, too," Michelle called after him.

  A few minutes later, Joe was cruising down the freeway to City Hospital. Dr Zimmerman was the President of the College of Physicians – a very important figure. Joe looked forward to meeting him. Sales strategies ran through his mind. He was lost in thought, one part of him driving the car almost unconsciously, the other, thinking. Suddenly, there was a lyrical voice in the car, singing in a fake Scottish accent. The voice was terribly off-key:

  "You take the high road

  and I'll take the low road,

  and I'll be at Club Vivax afore ye!"

  Annoyed, Joe looked around.

  Sure enough, Shamus Maguinty was sitting in the back seat. He disappeared and instantaneously rematerialised in the front seat, beside Joe. "How are you, laddie?" he inquired, still retaining the fake Scottish accent.

  "I'm fine," said Joe, gruffly, "so long as you promise not to sing."

  Shamus frowned. "Ungrateful mortal! Typical. I'm here for a purpose."

  Joe cringed as he drove. "Oh, no. What now?"

  Shamus opened the window and stuck his head out in the slipstream. His cap blew off and floated away down the highway; he seemed unconcerned about its loss. In fact he was having such a good time, he let out a whoop of delight. "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

  "Are you all right?" Joe asked.

  Shamus came back in and closed the window. "Never better."

  It wasn’t easy to drive and talk to an angel at the same time. Joe gripped the wheel. “Why are you here again? I thought I'd got everything right, at last."

  "Well,” said Shamus, “much as I hate to admit it, you have done well – for a mortal, at least. You turned down the promotion. You cut down your hours a little, instead of burning out with the rest of the workaholics. And you're playing your music. I’d say, all in all, that’s pretty good."

  "Pretty good? Is that all you can say?" said Joe.

  "Well, there is something else. That Jane Hamilton you've been seeing. I’m here to talk about her. It’s about time we had a little chat about that.”

  "Not you, too, Shamus. I've just had Michelle needling me."

  "Jane’s going to call you, you know," said Shamus.

  "She is?"

  "Sure. She'll want to confirm your sailing date for Sunday."

  Joe was exasperated. "How do you know?!"

  "Never mind. Just make sure you go. And ... one more thing."

  "Yes?"

  "You say you two are just friends? That nothing’s going on?"

  Joe looked triumphant. "Yes. That's right."

  "Well, kid – something should be going on."

  "Huh?”

  Shamus refused to answer. He pulled out his pocket watch, squinted at it briefly, then returned it to his waistcoat. "Good. That's decided, then. Well, so long, Joe. I have to go, now."

  With that, Shamus faded into green smoke and disappeared.

  Joe watched the road rushing past his cruising car. He changed lanes and overtook a slower vehicle. That was just what he needed, he thought, a matchmaking angel.

  Still, he was looking forward to Sunday.

  The sleek fibreglass dinghy was tied up by the main jetty at the end of a happy day of sailing on Lake Metropolis. As the sparse Sunday afternoon crowd went about their picnics – tying up their boats, playing their ball games, walking their dogs – Joe Mathews and Jane Hamilton sat on a picnic blanket under an old willow tree by the lake. They were drinking hot coffee.

  "Wonderful," said Joe, gulping down the sweet brew.

  "Not very healthy, though," Jane remonstrated.

  "It sure warms up a cold sailor. You know, I think I'm just about getting my sea legs. Last time, I got seasick. This time, I'm just cold and wet through."

  Jane laughed. "You make it sound like torture!"

  "No, I liked it. But imagine how you'd feel, you who’ve never played squash, if I threw you into a fast game! But I really had fun, anyway."

  "Want to know something even more fun? My friend, Alex, is going to put the boat away for us today." Jane indicated a tall, middle-aged man near the boat. "He’s the guy who owns it." Jane waved. The man waved back and then went about putting the boat away, bringing down its sail.

  "Luxury!" said Joe.

  "So, I guess everything’s going well for both of us,” said Jane. “I've been promoted. You're playing jazz again. And here we are, sailing! A little different from a couple of workaholics we used to know two months ago, don't you think?"

  Joe agreed. "Well, yeah. I suppose so."

  A big sailboat passed close to shore. Jane watched it race away.

  "You know, Jane, I have this Irish friend. A little short guy. He’s a bit of a character. I was telling him about you. Anyway, he gave me some advice."

  "Oh?" Jane looked a little worried. "What advice?"

  "Well, he told me I should ... ah ... it's a little embarrassing."

  "Embarrassing?" said Jane.

  "Yeah. Actually, forget I brought it up. Sorry.”

  "Okay,” said Jane. “If you say so. It’s funny, though. I have a short Irish friend, too. And he gave me some advice about you.”

  “Oh?” said Joe. “What kind of advice?”

  To Joe’s great surprise, Jane leaned across and kissed him. Then – straight away – she smiled and stood up. “I forget exactly what he said. But it did seem like good advice at the time.”

  Joe was speechless. To cover his surprise, he busied himself tidying up their impromptu picnic, picking up the coffee cups and the vacuum flask and stuffing them back inside Jane’s canvas bag.

  Jane helped him fold up the picnic blanket.

  "Care to take a stroll?" Joe asked, when they had finished.

  "I thought you'd never ask.” Jane put an arm, casually, around Joe; he slung the canvas bag over his shoulder, and the two of them began a leisurely walk along the lakeside path. Around them, the darkening sky had taken on the magenta glow of sunset.

  After a hundred yards or so, Jane spoke again. "Would you be interested in dinner, this Wednesday? I'm not working late, and I know a great Indian restaurant.”

  "I'd like that," said Joe.

  They walked on, past trees and moored boats, watching the sun sink over the lake. Neither of them had felt so relaxed in a long time. And neither Jane nor Joe noticed the short, chubby figure, in a cheap leprechaun suit, who followed them quietly, ten yards behind.

  The little fellow seemed well pleased.