Nine Perfect Strangers

‘I have low blood pressure,’ she said. ‘I faint a lot. I could easily faint.’

‘I’ve got you,’ he said.

She clutched his arm as he helped her out of the pool. He wasn’t rough exactly, but there was a detachment to his touch, and a kind of concentrated grunting effort, like he was moving an ungainly piece of furniture through a narrow doorway. A refrigerator, perhaps. It was depressing to be treated like a refrigerator.

The blood continued to gush from her nose. He led her to the deckchair, sat her down, put one towel around her shoulders and the other in front of her nose.

‘Firmly pinch the bridge of your nos

e,’ he said. ‘Like this.’ He pinched her nose and then directed her hand into the same spot. ‘That’s it. You’ll be right. It’ll stop.’

‘I’m sure you’re meant to put your head back,’ protested Frances.

‘It’s forward,’ he said. ‘Otherwise the blood runs down the back of your throat. I’m not wrong on this.’

She gave up. Maybe he was right. He was one of those definite people. Definite people were often annoyingly right about things.

The nausea and dizziness began to ease. She kept pinching her nose and chanced an upward glance. He stood solidly in front of her so she was at eye level with his belly button.

‘You okay?’ he said. He coughed his phlegmy plague-ridden man cough.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m Frances.’ She kept one hand on her nose and held out her other hand. He shook it. Her hand disappeared into his.

‘Tony,’ he said.

‘Thanks so much for your help,’ she said. He was probably a nice man, even if he had treated her like a refrigerator. ‘And you know – for stopping on the road when I was . . .’

He looked pained by the memory.

‘I’ve never had a bleeding nose before,’ she told him. ‘I don’t know what brought it on, although I guess I have had a bad cold. Actually, you sound like you’ve had quite a bad –’

‘I might get going,’ Tony interrupted her impatiently, aggressively, as if she were an old lady who had accosted him at a bus stop and wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise.

‘Places to go, people to see?’ said Frances, deeply offended. She’d just been through a medical crisis.

Tony met her gaze. His eyes were light brown, almost gold. They brought to mind a small endangered native animal. A bilby, for example.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I just thought I should . . . get dressed for dinner.’

Frances grunted. They had plenty of time before dinner.

There was an awkward moment of silence. He didn’t leave.

He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t know if I’m going to survive this . . . experience.’ He touched his stomach. ‘It’s not really my kind of thing. I didn’t expect quite so much hippy-dippy stuff.’

Frances softened, smiled. ‘You’ll be fine. It’s only ten days. Nine to go now.’

‘Yeah,’ said Tony. He sighed and squinted off at the blue-hazed horizon. ‘It is beautiful here.’

‘It is,’ said Frances. ‘Peaceful.’

Tony said, ‘So you’re okay? Keep pinching your nose until it stops.’

‘Yup,’ said Frances.

She looked down at the scarlet droplets on her towel and found another, cleaner section of fabric to plug her nose.

When she looked up Tony was already walking towards the pool gate. As he lifted his arm to open it, his shorts suddenly slid down to his knees to reveal the entirety of his buttocks.