Burnt (16 page)

As Rick left the tearoom, Rebecca added water and milk to her coffee and drank it as quickly as the scalding temperature would allow. Over the next few hours, her mind was a whirl of possibilities as ideas she hoped to contribute to this new venture took hold, making the time fly by.

Chaotic was the only way Rebecca could explain the pace of her life from the moment she dialled the numbers scrawled on the piece of paper Rick had handed her a little over two weeks earlier.

Upon meeting Beth for the first time, Rebecca had her doubts as to whether this tiny woman could manage the heavy burden of coordinating such a huge undertaking, but the moment she opened her mouth all reservations evaporated. What she lacked in size she more than made up for in enthusiasm and passion. The woman was like a mini cyclone: she moved heaven and earth to make Hope Cottage become a reality. The pretty little house, willed to the foundation by a local victim of domestic abuse, was given a complete makeover and became the heart of the program. The foundation provided a place for women who were ready to take the first step towards breaking free from abuse. At Hope Cottage, they'd receive encouragement, job training, medical attention and counselling. They could be referred on to a safe house at another premises if they needed somewhere to live, but the house was a temporary haven, a place that showed these women there was hope and help available.

Rebecca's main responsibility was to ensure the women were taking care of their health needs, providing basic first aid to new or old injuries, and referring them on to the help they needed: either to other health professionals or counselling services and support groups. There was a lot of interest in the new venture, and Rebecca had been featured in the local newspaper, while Beth and some of the other volunteers in the project had given television interviews for both news and current affair shows. The publicity succeeded in directing a stream of new clients to Hope Cottage and it quickly became a hive of activity.

The only downside was that it ate into the time she had to spend with the girls and Seb. The girls weren't a problem – they preferred to spend time with Nanna and Pop anyway; Mum was too boring and didn't have a pantry full of goodies – and the time away from Seb wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He wasn't being as supportive of her new venture as she'd hoped.

Domestic violence was an ugly subject. Rebecca could understand why people were inclined to turn a blind eye when they suspected it was happening to someone around them – dealing with a bully was never something a stranger would be particularly keen to undertake. But Seb was worried about the fallout from all the media attention the cottage had been receiving lately and had cautioned her against taking on the position.

‘You're putting yourself out there for every pissed-off husband whose wife has suddenly decided to leave him,' Seb argued over dinner one night, soon after her interview in the newspaper.

‘It's no more dangerous than working the graveyard shift in A and E.'

‘Except there isn't a security guard nearby to come running if you need it.'

‘There's plenty of security. We've got security cameras on the front door, the police do regular patrols. It's safe.'

‘I don't like you working around all that violence.'

‘Says the man who blows things up for a living.'

‘Exactly. I know what I'm talking about. You don't want to have to live like that, Bec. It changes you. You'll be on edge and looking over your shoulder all the time. No one should have to live like that.'

‘Well, plenty of women do, Seb, which is why I want to help them.'

‘What about your kids? Do you think it's fair that they have to sacrifice their mother?'

Rebecca gritted her teeth and turned away from him. Bringing her children into the argument was below the belt. She knew he was worried about her safety, but it had been a long time since she'd had to account to anyone else. She made decisions. She took responsibility. There was no one to ask permission from before she decided to do something, or buy something, no one to apologise to if she put a dent in the car. It was
her
problem to deal with the mistakes, and
her
job to fix it.

‘I would hope that my kids would be proud of their mother for standing up to something like domestic violence and helping people get out of it. I would also hope,' she continued, her temper rising despite her intention to hold on to it, ‘that it would set an example for my girls when it comes to learning the difference between good and bad choices.'

‘They've already got a role model in their mother, Bec. They see how a woman can be strong and independent without losing the ability to care about others – they don't need to see you attacked by some loud-mouthed woman basher to learn how strong women can be.'

Rebecca stared at him silently. How was she supposed to respond to that? He'd just given her the most amazing compliment, then followed it with a disgraceful backhander.

‘I wouldn't be doing it if I thought I would be intentionally placing myself in danger, Seb. I'm not an idiot, so give me
some
credit for making an informed decision. I'm doing it and that's all there is to it.'

‘Fine.' He threw his hands in the air. ‘Do what you want.'

Rebecca sighed and looked up at the ceiling, frustrated by the fact that reality had intruded upon their blissful reconciliation so soon. ‘Seb, be reasonable – would you let me sit here and tell you not to do your job?'

‘That's different.'

Rebecca's eyes widened in disbelief. ‘
How
is it different?'

‘Because what I do, I'm trained to do, and it's important.'

‘
Excuse
me?'

‘You can't compare the two things, Bec.'

‘Of course not, because while you're out there playing Rambo in some godforsaken place, I'm just wasting my time taking care of everyday people with their everyday problems back home.'

‘I didn't say that. Don't take things out of context.' His voice sounded weary, as though it were beneath him to be involved in this mundane exchange.

‘I think I've got the context, loud and clear.'

Seb shook his head slightly. ‘You know, I didn't mean it that way.'

‘I think your ego
is blinding you to reality.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘It means – that just because you're in an elite field that very few people manage to get into, it doesn't make you God. You look down on everyone you don't consider your equal.'

‘That's bull,' he scoffed, with a small chuckle of disbelief.

‘Really? Think about it. You weigh up everyone by their job description. Admit it, in your opinion, no other job comes close to yours.'

‘I didn't come over here for this.'

‘No, you came over here to talk me out of doing something I consider important.'

‘I came over here to talk you into seeing how dangerous this was. Excuse me for caring.' The chair scraped loudly on the floor as he stood up.

‘You seem to be confusing caring with an attempt to bully me into changing my mind.'

‘I didn't know it was a crime to express my concern.'

‘It's not. Your concern is duly noted
and
appreciated. It's the fact that you can't trust my judgement as a fully grown woman to make my own informed decisions that should be outlawed.'

‘This is why I stay away from relationships.'

‘Of course – it must be frustrating when you come across someone who doesn't have to obey an order!'

Throwing his hands in the air once more, Seb turned his broad back on her. ‘Maybe I should just go. We haven't done anything except bite each other's heads off since I got here.'

Rebecca felt disappointment crush her chest, but bit her lip from blurting out a plea for him to stay. He was right: the night was not going to improve any time soon, not when they were both so defensive. ‘Probably a good idea.'

He hesitated for a fraction of a second and Rebecca dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand to stop herself begging him to stay. She caught the glimpse of regret on his face as he turned to her before he replaced it with calm indifference. ‘I'll see you tomorrow.'

She managed to nod, but he didn't waste any time looking back. She heard the front door close, and even though it was done softly, it seemed to echo and rattle inside her as though he'd slammed it.

That night she tossed and turned, but no matter how hard she tried, sleep continued to elude her. As the very first sliver of light touched the horizon, Rebecca finally fell into a restless sleep.

Rebecca could hear the sing-song music of the G-rated movie the girls were watching in her parents' lounge room. Swinging lazily on her parents' outdoor swing seat, she sipped her wine and watched the smoke from her father's immaculate stainless steel barbecue swirl up and off the verandah as he cooked their dinner.

‘The girls are full of exciting things to say about a certain war veteran who's been hanging around,' Eliza said with an almost too
casual air, as she put the final touches on the table.

‘War veteran?' Rebecca chuckled, sending her mother an amused look. ‘You're making him sound like he's
eighty
.'

‘You could have invited him over for dinner, you know,' Eliza persisted, ignoring her daughter's attempt to deflect her interest. ‘I'd like to see him again. At one time, he used to be part of the furniture.'

Rebecca shifted her gaze back to the smoke, wishing right now she could follow it into the dark night sky, away from questions she wasn't ready to answer.

‘Why don't you invite him over tomorrow for Sunday lunch?'

‘I don't know if he's really – he's not home for good, Mum. He's not planning on sticking around.'

She could feel her mother's eyes settling on her and tried not to resent her. This was her mother. Rebecca knew she would one day want to know all the details of Sarah's and Natalie's lives too, but how did you explain to your mother, the woman who knew you better than you even knew yourself, that the love of your life wasn't planning on sticking around and that you were too weak willed to do anything about it?

‘We, ah … had a bit of a disagreement the other day and I haven't actually seen him since.'

‘Must have been a doozy of a disagreement.'

Rebecca winced. ‘He wasn't exactly keen about the whole shelter thing.'

‘Well, it is a bit of a worry. Your father and I aren't completely sure about it, either.'

Rebecca glanced briefly at her mother, before taking a fortifying sip of her wine. ‘Not you too, Mum. You know we need a shelter around here. This is important.'

‘Yes, I know.' Eliza sighed and sat down next to her daughter. Rebecca still had trouble accepting the youthful, vibrant face of her mother as that of someone who was sixty years old. There was no way her parents seemed to fit that age group. Sixty had once seemed so old. Her parents travelled and went out for dinner, took romantic little getaway weekends together, and had a rowdy, fun-loving bunch of friends who loved a good barbecue and any excuse for a get-together. They were becoming quite the party animals now they'd both retired. It was somewhat depressing to realise her parents had a more active social life than she did.

‘We just worry that you might get caught up in something dangerous.'

‘You're beginning to sound like Seb.' Rebecca sighed. ‘Look, it's no more dangerous than working Accident and Emergency late at night or on a weekend.'

‘We worry about you working there as well. But,' Eliza added quickly as she saw her daughter's expression begin to cloud, ‘we know it's your job. It's not one a lot of people could do. We're just worried about you.'

‘I'm fine, Mum. I wouldn't put myself in a position where I was in danger. Believe it or not, I've actually spent the last eighteen years doing this; I
have
learnt a few things along the way.'

Eliza smiled. ‘And despite that, you'll always be our little girl and we'll always worry about you.'

The girls' squabbling inside drew the adults' attention through the open door to the lounge room. ‘Oh joy – so it never ends, then?' Rebecca said as she got to her feet to go and referee the fight over who got to choose the next show.

As she made an executive decision and turned the TV off, Rebecca saw Sarah's eyes light up and quickly swung around. To say she was a little surprised to find Seb framed in the glass door leading onto the front verandah was like saying someone was a little bit
pregnant – it was almost as though she'd conjured him up out of thin air.

Racing past her, Sarah pulled open the door and jumped up and down in excitement. ‘Seb's here!'

‘I can see that, Sar,' Rebecca said, weakly. ‘What are you doing here?' She forced a polite smile to her face to soften her somewhat blunt question.

Stepping inside, Seb flashed a smile at the two girls staring up at him, before turning a rueful grin upon her. ‘I got a phone call from your mother today, inviting me to dinner.'

‘Oh.'

‘You didn't know about it,' he surmised, taking in her tight-lipped smile.

‘No. That would be my mother's idea of a nice little surprise.'

‘I don't have to stay,' he offered quietly, his voice dropping so the girls didn't overhear.

‘No.' She immediately shook her head and stepped away from the doorway so he could move further inside. ‘Don't be silly. It's fine. It just caught me by surprise.'

Well, this was awkward. She hadn't spoken to the man in almost four days and now here he was, about to sit down to a meal with her family. Not uncomfortable
at all
.