“But she likes pizza,” said Matthew. “She always has.”
“Okay,” said Babs. “But she can say that herself, can’t she?”
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Leonie nodded her agreement. “Men sometimes think that women can’t make their own choices in life. I’ve noticed that quite a lot, actually. Particularly in this country.” Matthew felt his face becoming warm. “Why do you say that?” he asked. “And why this country?”
Leonie smiled. “It’s just what I’ve picked up,” she said. “I see a lot of men giving orders to women – telling them what to do.”
“And you didn’t see that in Australia?” asked Matthew. He was aware that Babs was watching him as he spoke. She seemed vaguely amused by his response, as if he was behaving exactly as she had imagined he would.
“Oh, bits of Australia are like that,” said Leonie. “There are places out in the boondocks where you get the real ockers, but things are very different in Melbourne and Sydney.”
“I see,” said Matthew.
“I haven’t found that many men have tried to tell me what to do,” said Pat suddenly. “And Matthew certainly doesn’t. Even though he’s my boss, he doesn’t do that.”
Babs turned her gaze from Matthew to Pat. “Well, that’s very good to hear,” she said.
“Yes,” said Pat. “And actually, if you come to think of it, there are plenty of women who tell men what to do. I think it’s men who have got the problem these days.”
“You can say that again,” said Leonie. “Or, rather, you can say the last bit again.”
Matthew now decided that it was time to move the conversation forward. He turned to Babs. “Are you an architect too?”
he asked.
Babs shook her head. “I used to be a designer,” she said. “I was a designer when I lived in Milan. But I was one of those people whose hobby rather took over and became their job. So I changed.”
“Babs has always been good with cars,” said Leonie. “She has a real talent.”
Babs acknowledged the compliment with an inclination of the head. “Well, put it this way, I can talk to cars,” she said. “Cars and me – we’re on the same wavelength.”
“So now I’ve opened a new business,” Babs went on. “I’ve started a small panel-beating shop – you know, car bodywork repair. I fix cars up.”
Leonie raised a finger in the air. “But it’s a very special business, this one,” she said. “It’s just for women who have dented their car. They can take it to Babs for confidential repair. Men needn’t even know about it.”
“Yes,” said Babs. “It’s called Ladies who Crash. And I can tell you something – I’m busy. Boy, am I kept busy!”
Matthew was very wary. “But this implies that women are worse drivers than men,” he said. “Whereas all the evidence goes the other way. Women are safer drivers than men. All the accident statistics show that.”
“But they can’t reverse,” said Babs. She spoke in a matter-of-fact way, as if enunciating an uncontroversial truth. But then she added: “Well, I suppose, neither can Jim.”
“Who’s Jim?” asked Matthew.
“My husband,” said Babs. “Bless him!”
Dinner that evening at the Caffe Sardi was not a protracted event. Matthew tried valiantly to keep the conversation going into a second cup of post-prandial coffee, but Leonie announced that she had an important site meeting the next day with a demanding client and she wanted an early night. And Jim, Babs announced, did not like her to be too late.
“He worries about me,” she explained, looking at her watch.
“He worries when I go out.”
“I’m sorry,” said Matthew apologetically. “I would have asked him, too. It’s just that I thought . . .” He left the sentence unfinished. Both Leonie and Babs were staring at him, and Pat, embarrassed, was looking up at the ceiling.
“You thought what?” asked Babs.
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Matthew swallowed. “I thought that you and Leonie were . . .
were friends.”
“But we are,” said Babs. “We’ve been friends for ages, haven’t we Leo?”
“Yes,” said Leonie, still glaring at Matthew. “Did you think . . .”
“You didn’t!” said Babs, seemingly amused.
Matthew laughed nervously. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I suppose I did rather assume that. It’s just that when you came into the restaurant . . .” He glanced at Pat, but she was still looking up at the ceiling.
“Yes,” pressed Babs. “We came in. So what?”
