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Sue and Kathy were late, as usual. So was Petra. Emma was wondering whether to have a preliminary entree while we waited. Nibbling on a corner of the menu, she said, "I’m trying to think of something for Petra’s birthday."
"That’s not going to be easy," I said. "If Petra hasn’t got it, it hasn’t been thought of yet."
"But her one is always broken, chipped, never worked or slops oil all over the floor," Emma pointed out. "So what has she broken lately that most needs replacing."
"Her heart, I’d guess," I said.
Emma glowed. "You mean, she’s got rid of Robbie?"
"He ran over her cat, and tried to blame her for it."
"Poor Petra."
"Poor cat. Petra’s got another eight lives."
Emma counted on her fingers, enumerating Petra’s ex-husbands and boyfriends. She shook her head. "She’s down to two."
"Maybe that’s what she needs for her birthday. A liferaft for her swimming pool. Or a squad of lifesavers."
"Don’t know any," Emma said. "But there’s Daniel. I could bring him to the party on Friday."
I looked at her long and hard. "Don’t," I said.
"Don’t what?"
"Don’t matchmake. It always goes wrong."
Emma laughed. "That was Sue. Petra’s already met Daniel, and she likes him."
"Why do you think that?"
"They were talking for over an hour at Kathy’s party."
"Because nobody could be bothered rescuing her."
"But the way he was looking at her."
"She said he was undressing her."
Emma snorted. "Everybody undresses Petra, though I can’t see why, because the top five buttons are undone anyway and she doesn’t have a blouse that isn’t see-through."
"Daniel talked for the whole hour about the epidemiology of phylloxera in the Ob river valley prior to the Russian Revolution."
"Oh."
"It’s his Ph.D. topic."
"Maybe he’s a bit young for her," Emma suggested.
Sue pulled out a chair and slid into place, immediately looking as if she’d been there for hours. Kathy thumped down, looking breathless. "Sorry we’re late," she said. "We got held up."
Emma looked over Sue’s flawless decor and nodded understandingly.
"Emma’s trying to find a man for Petra," I told them.
"Not a hope," Sue said. "There’s a world shortage. Of nice ones, anyway." She thought for a moment. "But if you find one, you’d better give me a look first. I can tell you if they’d suit Petra."
"Did you have anything in mind?" Kathy asked.
"It’s got to be a hunk," Sue said. "To Petra, there’s only two kinds of men, hunks and wimps. And she’s not interested in wimps."
"That’s not true," I said. "Petra thinks there’s only one kind of man. Wimps aren’t men."
"But there’s nice hunks and horrible hunks," Kathy said.
"Show me a nice one," Sue said.
"There’s Karl, and Alexander, and Joseph, and ..."
"And what do they all have in common?"
"They’re attached," Emma said.
"And likely to remain that way."
"What about Simon?" Kathy asked.
Sue winced. "He can’t even grunt without forgetting what he was saying half way through."
"Besides, he’s got a crush on Jason," Emma said.
"I think you ought to get her something useful," Kathy said. "Something more long-lasting, capable of providing comfort and affection."
"Such as?" Emma asked.
"A bottle of gin," Sue suggested.
"I was thinking of a teddy bear," Kathy said.
"She’s already got one," I said. "That colossal pink panther that sits on the staircase. It’s so old it’s going grey. And the black arm band has been there since Peter Sellers died."
"Kathy’s right, though," Sue said. "The last thing Petra needs is a man."
"She needs to find herself," Kathy said.
Emma sighed. "Okay," she said. "I’ll get her a cat."
Petra wafted in, a foot off the floor, in a flurry of blond hair and a black jumper that would fit a five cent piece between each stitch.
"I’m bringing Alexander to the party," she announced.
Kathy’s jaw dropped. "But he’s married."
"So is everybody else who’s worth having. And if they think I’m going to wait until they get round to busting up of their own accord, then they’ve got another think coming."
Copyright © D.W. Walker, 1990