Husband Hunters by Genevieve Gannon

concealed, draped in shadow. Annabel’s chest tightened the way it used to when she was late coming home to Hunter. Perhaps I shouldn’t have provoked him, she thought.
    But when he spoke, his voice was tense, soft and fearful.
    ‘You won’t—’ He cleared his throat and stepped into the light. He squinted. ‘Please, don’t say anything about the aff— About Clementine.’
    ‘Jason?’ A man’s voice followed them down the hallway. ‘Jason, what are you doing? You’ve had too much to drink, come back to the garden.’
    It was the man in tweed.
    ‘Hang on, Patrick,’ Jason said. Annabel’s memory clicked: He’d been sitting with Belinda and Clementine at Mirabella’s wedding. She smiled faintly at him. He nodded.
    Instead of leaving, Patrick advanced, still clutching his martini. He used it like a traffic warden’s baton to try to shoo Jason back to the grassed area. ‘Come on,’ he had a reassuring voice. Like a doctor. Or a kindly police sergeant.
    ‘In a minute,’ Jason said, without removing his gaze from Annabel.
    Patrick looked to her for guidance. ‘It’s alright,’ she told him. The anger coursing through her was subsiding, leaving a residue of pity. The fear was gone.
    She already knew she wasn’t going to say anything. Of course she wasn’t. Still, she hated him for his public show of innocence. She had wanted to strike at him, to leave him fretting.
    Instead, she clenched her teeth and said no. ‘No, I won’t say anything.’
    Jason’s face relaxed. He breathed out and nodded. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I don’t want my wife to find out.’
    Anger blazed in Annabel’s chest. He didn’t care about Clementine. He was worried about his own skin.
    He touched her arm — a gesture of thanks. For a second she lost her composure. She grabbed Patrick’s martini and threw it over Jason. Jason gaped, blinking through wet eyelashes. Then he slinked away.
    ‘Thanks,’ Annabel handed Patrick’s glass back to him.
    ‘For what?’
    ‘For coming to rescue me.’
    Behind his glasses, his eyes were twinkling with amusement. ‘I would never make the mistake of thinking you needed rescuing,’ he said.
    He was an unusual-looking man. Bookish and not very tall, yet lean. Annabel laughed, intoxicated by what she had just done.
    ‘Now,’ Patrick took her arm, ‘I believe you owe me a martini.’

Chapter 6 Daniela
     
    There were two specimens: a larger one with a mane of blond curls combed back over his head, and a shorter, darker one with a furry face. Daniela had tracked them from the patio to the dessert table where they were grazing on trifle. Her ears were cocked forward like a dingo stalking prey. She was trying to catch what they were saying. She needed a chance to interject, like Annabel had instructed.
    ‘A quick interruption is a great way to start conversations with men you don’t know,’ Annabel had lectured over marinated octopus at Pucci. ‘Say they’re debating whether to buy red wine or white, all you have to do is say “rosé” and you’ve got an opening.’
    Dani had first spotted them out by the pond, casually drinking. She had moved closer and heard them talking about fibre optics — something she knew nothing about. She lay in wait as they moved to the patio.
    ‘How’s your naked DSL?’ the taller one asked.
    ‘Good, mate,’ said the shorter.
    Still not a subject Dani could talk about. She kept her head down as they walked inside to discuss hockey.
    Come on, come on, she thought. Switch to rugby, or even AFL, something I know something about. She shadowed them as they moved towards the cakes.
    ‘I’m thinking of buying a boat.’
    No.
    ‘I’ve got to replace my tow-bar.’
    Boring.
    ‘Can you give me the name of that podiatrist you saw?’ the darker one said. ‘I need someone to look at my feet.’
    That’ll do. Daniela pounced.
    ‘I have feet.’
    Mannaggia!
    The targets turned to look at her. She felt herself shrink.
    ‘I mean, I know a good