The Perfect 10 Read Online Free PDF Page B

weighs and his eyes dart up and catch mine again.
    I touch my toes, for no reason other than to do something quickly, and I feel ridiculous. It must actually look like I am trying to impress him with my arse, or worse, my flexibility. I am giving him the impression that I actively seek out children to rescue on Sunday mornings in an effort to meet men. But can I walk over there and explain that I was merely working out his body-fat-to-lean-matter ratio? I’m not sure, given the circumstance, which version will sound less appalling.
    I am going to have to speak to him. If I see him at the trial I will die of shame. I need to clear up this awkwardness, and make it plain that I don’t find him attractive. It’s an old habit that is refusing to die, the need to reject first.
    I push myself up from the railing I am leaning on, and inspect my running trousers for specks of my morning vomit, summoning up the courage to small talk. I cross my arms, and walk determinedly towards him with my head down. Ihear him cough again, uncomfortably. I glance up only when I sense that I am a few feet away, feeling the temporary coolness of the shade of the tree above me.
    He stands very straight and looks at me, and then away furtively for somebody that might rescue him this time, but we are the only heroes in town today. I’m going to clear this mess up as quickly and as cleanly as possible, and walk away.
    ‘Hi.’
    He just stares at me.
    I feel my throat contract, but continue, ‘I’m Batman, you must be Robin …’
    I laugh; he stares at me blankly.
    ‘We both ran after the same man this morning … the man who took the child …’ I can’t bring myself to say the word ‘snatched’.
    Even though I am now blocking him from the sun, the scrunched-up expression on his face doesn’t budge.
    ‘This morning, literally,’ I check my watch, ‘a couple of hours ago? We ran down that alley … I was on the floor, you ran past and told me to go back the other way …’ I am speaking too quickly, I know. And my cheeks are flushed, I know this too. ‘You know, this morning? Surely you can’t have forgotten already?’
    ‘I haven’t forgotten. Yes.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Yes I am that man.’
    ‘Oh. I thought you meant “yes?” as in “what do you want?”.’
    I laugh sharply. He looks away. And maybe even shrugs his shoulders in agreement, but I might be dreaming that. Finding me unattractive is not a reason to be this rude, although most men I’ve met think it is reason enough to cut me dead.
    ‘I thought I recognised you, but I wasn’t sure because, you know, I was on the ground when I saw you the first time, which is why I was looking at you just then to make sure it was you … Anyway, I’m just waiting for a cab, to take me home.’ I try to finish brightly, but it just sounds needy.
    He stands in silence.
    I could walk away, of course. I may never meet this man again, we may be on different days of the trial – who cares if he thinks me rude? I could just walk off as if I hadn’t said a word …
    ‘I can’t believe how long it took, in there,’ I say. I gesture towards the police station with my head. ‘But some of that was the medical. I’m a little bruised.’ I point to my stomach.
    I get nothing, no reaction whatsoever. I should just walk away.
    ‘But of course it’s nothing really, considering what happened. I guess you caught him then? Good for you.’ I give him a thumbs-up gesture, and actually recoil at myself.
    Silence. Why can’t I stop talking?
    ‘I don’t really know what I was thinking, but I guess in those situations you don’t really think, do you? You just do … I mean you just act … or you don’t know how you’ll act … you can’t plan for it … why would you?’ My voice trails off pathetically into a whisper, ‘Or whatever …’
    I think I might cry again, from the effort. My eyes start to sting. A lump grows in my throat.
    He is properly older than me; a grown-up. I only ever feel