The Peppercorn Project (10 page)

‘That shouldn’t have stopped you from letting Fletcher get out and see the sights,’ Leah argued.

‘He’s too young to be allowed to wander around the streets alone without supervision.’

Leah laughed aloud again. ‘Issie, listen to yourself. When you were his age you probably rode around on your bike all day and only came back home when you got hungry. And in Stony Creek, wandering the streets, as you put it, means he’ll wander down to the creek, the tennis court or the playground. He can’t possibly get into any trouble.’

‘Well, times have changed,’ Isabelle said, crossing her arms and glaring at Leah.

‘Not in Stony Creek they haven’t.’ Leah chuckled. ‘Fletcher and Mietta will be perfectly safe. Let them out of the house, Isabelle. Let them walk around the town and get a feel for it. I can promise you they won’t get lost.’

Isabelle sighed. ‘I’ll see.’

‘What are you doing tomorrow? How about we take the kids into school and get them settled, and you and I go and grab a coffee?’

‘Oh, I’m not going to start them this year – there’s not much left of the school term.’

Leah frowned. ‘All the other new kids are starting tomorrow. Didn’t you get the letter from the school?’

‘I was going to wait until next year.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it makes sense to start them at the beginning of a school year. They’ve already missed so much school this year and it’s been messy. I think it’s better to start afresh in the new year.’

‘You like to be in control, don’t you?’ Leah said. Without waiting for an answer, she leaned across the table and placed her hand on Isabelle’s arm. ‘The school’s tiny, Issie, and the teachers have been expecting all these new kids to start since you all arrived in town. It’s only November. There’s still six weeks left of term before the summer holidays. Send the kids tomorrow and get them out of your hair, or by January you’ll be stark raving mad.’

‘But I haven’t got uniforms or books or anything,’ Isabelle said. ‘I was going to do that over the Christmas holidays.’ She didn’t want to admit that until the sale of the house went through, she had no money other than the gift her friends had given.

‘You haven’t read the letter, have you? Rachel has organised casual dress days for the whole week in case you haven’t sorted uniforms. They’re going to play games and do things to welcome the new students for the rest of the week. If your kids don’t go now, they’re going to feel out of place when they
do
show up to school next year.’

‘I suppose so,’ Isabelle agreed with a sigh. She lowered her voice. ‘I don’t know how they’ll go. They’ve had the same friends since pre-school. It’s going to be a big adjustment. Especially for Fletcher.’

‘Who’s worried? You or the kids? I’ll bet if you ask them, they’ll be super excited. It’s you who’s nervous.’

Isabelle slumped back in her chair. ‘You’re right.’

‘I know!’ Leah said with a chuckle. She gave Isabelle a stern look. ‘Call the kids.’

Isabelle groaned. ‘I’m not going to get out of this, am I?’

Leah shook her head.

‘Fletch! Mietta! Come here, please.’

A second after the television was muted, Fletcher called out. ‘What?’

‘Can you guys come here, please?’

There was a groan from Fletcher and a shuffling sound. Mietta appeared first, bouncing into the kitchen. Fletcher straggled in after her.

When he caught sight of Leah, his eyes lit up. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘I popped over to let your mum know you guys start school tomorrow.’

‘For real?’ Fletcher’s face broke into a wide grin. ‘Can we, Mum? Please?’

Mietta was not as enthused, but a small smile played at the corners of her lips. Perhaps she was waiting for Isabelle’s reaction.

‘If you want to,’ Isabelle hedged. ‘Apparently all the other Peppercorn kids are starting tomorrow too. I think it’s a good idea.’

‘Awesome. Much more fun than sitting around here doing nothing.’

Leah looked at Isabelle. ‘I think that’s the best response you could ask for.’

She nodded. ‘Give it a week and he’ll be wishing he was back home on holidays.’

Early the next morning Isabelle waited uncertainly in the small quadrangle of the Stony Creek Primary School. Fletcher stood off to one side, too old to want to be seen standing in the schoolyard with his mother, but Mietta clung to Isabelle’s right hand. All around them, children chased each other, their high-pitched voices expressing their excitement at the arrival of new students.

‘Isabelle!’ Rachel appeared, and Isabelle relaxed slightly, glad to see a familiar face. ‘You look scared stiff! The kids will be fine, I promise.’

Rachel squatted down to Mietta’s height. ‘Hi, Mietta, I’m Mrs King. Do you remember me? We met at the interview.’

Mietta nodded.

‘Would you like to meet your teacher?’

She nodded again.

Rachel held out her hand and Mietta took it hesitantly.

Isabelle nudged her forward. ‘Go on, honey, you’ll be fine.’

With a nervous glance over her shoulder, Mietta followed Rachel. Together they approached the African couple. Their own daughter stood quietly at their side too, silent tears streaming down her dark cheeks. Their little boy wriggled in his father’s arms, desperate to run with the big kids. Rachel and Mietta stopped in front of them. Rachel repeated the conversation with the other little girl. The tears stopped, but the look of terror in her eyes broke Isabelle’s heart.

Over the top of the din, Mietta’s sweet voice carried. ‘Hi. My name is Mietta. What’s yours?’

The little girl gave a half-smile. ‘Zoey.’

‘What grade are you in?’ Mietta asked.

The girl looked back at her mother with a questioning look.

‘You’re in grade one, Zoey.’

‘Same as me,’ Mietta said, giving a little hop on the spot and clapping her hands excitedly. ‘We can be best friends.’

Rachel glanced across at Isabelle and gave her a big grin and thumbs-up signal before taking each of the girls by the hand and leading them across to meet their teacher. Isabelle looked at Zoey’s parents and they smiled shyly at her. She returned the smile and headed towards them.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Isabelle. We’re one of the other Peppercorn Project families. I’m sorry I don’t remember your names.’

‘My name is Kuda,’ the man said, with a heavy accent. He bowed his head slightly.

‘And I’m Rumbi,’ the woman greeted Isabelle with a small smile.

‘Where are you from?’ Isabelle asked.

‘We are from Melbourne,’ Kuda replied.

Isabelle blushed with embarrassment. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed you were refugees.’

Rumbi smiled again, her brightly coloured lips parting to reveal straight white teeth. ‘We have lived in Australia for one year now. Originally we are from Zimbabwe, but no, we are not refugees.’ She too had an accent, but was easy enough to understand.

Isabelle turned to the man who had set the little boy down on the ground, with a warning to stay close. ‘What do you do, Kuda?’

‘I’m an IT consultant,’ he replied. ‘And you?’

Isabelle hesitated before replying. ‘I’m a nurse, but I’m not working at the moment. I’m a stay-at-home mum.’

‘Then yes, you
are
working.’ His smile was broad. ‘That is what I have to remind my wife. She is an engineer, but her time is now to look after Koby until he starts school.’ He indicated the little boy running circles around them.

Isabelle looked at the other woman. ‘We should have coffee together some time,’ she suggested.

‘I would like that. Thank you,’ Rumbi replied politely.

A bell clanged loudly, only serving to escalate the noise of the children further. Fletcher had disappeared. She scanned the faces of the children and found him standing between two boys who looked to be around his age. He was chatting animatedly and Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps Leah was right to suggest she start them now instead of waiting for the new school year. The bell sounded again and the three teachers moved among the fifty or so children, shushing them and sorting them into straight rows. Gradually the children were silent, except for the occasional whisper or giggle, and the shuffle of feet on concrete.

Rachel waited until everyone was quiet before speaking.

‘I would like to respectfully acknowledge the Nukunu people of whose ancestral land we meet on today. I also pay my respects to their Elders past and present and extend that respect to other Aboriginal people who are present today. I also acknowledge the contributions of Aboriginal Australians and non-Aboriginal Australians to the education of all children and people in this country we all live in and share together.’

The haunting sound of a didgeridoo came across the scratchy public address system as the National Anthem began. So far, the school day had commenced exactly as it would have if they were at their old school in Torquay. The last strains of the song indicated it was time to move. The lines of children began their slow snake into the building and their classrooms. Isabelle glanced at the small crowd, made up of a handful of mothers, a couple of fathers and some grandparents. She spotted one of the other new mothers – the one with a half dozen kids – and gave her a tentative smile.

Rumbi and Kuda rounded up their son and Isabelle watched them head back up the street, the little boy holding their hands and swinging between them. Isabelle smiled at one of the other mothers, who smiled politely in return, but didn’t approach. She felt lonely. If she’d been in Torquay, Skye or Sarah would have suggested they go for a walk or head to the cafe. Over multiple lattes, they would have solved all the problems of the world.

Isabelle wandered home with a heavy heart. What was she going to do between now and three thirty? Outside her house a car was parked. Leah sat waiting for her on the wicker couch on the front porch. ‘How did they go?’ she called out as Isabelle got closer.

‘Better than I expected.’ She sat opposite Leah. ‘I’m surprised how easy it was. Mietta was nervous to begin with, but Rachel introduced her to the little African girl – her name is Zoey – and Mietta decided she’d made her new best friend.’

Leah chuckled. ‘I knew she’d be fine. How was Fletch?’

‘He was good too. I didn’t get to say goodbye, but he was chatting with some other kids. Time will tell, I suppose.’

‘What have you got planned for the rest of the day?’

Isabelle slumped down in her chair and put her feet up on the coffee table. ‘To be honest, I have no idea. I’m not used to having time on my hands.’

Leah frowned. ‘What would you have done if you were back in Torquay?’

‘After school drop-off I’d hang out with my friends for the morning. Sometimes we’d go for a walk. Most mornings we sat and drank coffee.’ As soon as the words left her mouth Isabelle realised how indulgent her life sounded. No wonder people asked why she didn’t work.

‘How about we go and grab a coffee? It’ll be good for you to get out of the house.’

‘All right,’ Isabelle agreed. ‘That sounds like a plan.’

Less than five minutes later, they sat in
The Green Room
cafe in the main street. Isabelle loved the quirky interior of the old shop, decorated with posters from musical theatre productions. Someone had gone to a lot of effort, and she was impressed. Isabelle wasn’t much of a coffee snob, usually preferring tea or hot chocolate, but the size of the coffee machine suggested the coffee would taste okay. The cafe was busy, and Isabelle recognized a few faces from the schoolyard. When they saw Isabelle sitting with Leah, they smiled in acknowledgement.

‘Shelby runs the cafe,’ Leah said. ‘We went to school together. She was super-smart at school and we all thought she’d go into law or medicine. She ended up travelling around Europe, did a pastry chef course in Paris, brought her Italian husband home, and now they have three kids.’ Leah licked her lips and rubbed her stomach. ‘Plus her cakes are to die for.’

The strains of one of the songs from
Les Miserables
played in the background. Shelby obviously took the musical theatre theme seriously.

‘She’s done a great job with the cafe,’ Isabelle said, looking around. ‘I wouldn’t have expected something this modern in the middle of nowhere, to be honest.’

‘We’re lucky. If you head to Booleroo they have more cafes, but none as good as ours. And they don’t have Shelby’s cakes!’

‘What do you do for a job, Leah?’ Isabelle asked when they had ordered and found a table near the window. The mountain formed an impressive backdrop.

‘I work from home as a bookkeeper. I do payroll and tax stuff for some of the businesses in town and also help a lot on the family farm. Mum and Dad have a property outside of town – mostly sheep and wheat. I’ll take you and the kids out there one day – you’ll love it. I do Dad’s books but if it’s busy I help out with the real farm work too. It’s good to get my hands dirty.’ Leah shrugged one shoulder and smiled. ‘It keeps me busy.’

Their order arrived and they stirred sugar into their drinks.

‘Have you lived here all your life?’ Isabelle asked.

‘Yeah. I was born here. Well, not technically in Stony Creek – they haven’t had a hospital here since the 1950s – but in Booleroo, before they took away their obstetrics license. No doubt I’ll live here for the rest of my life. Once you get to know it, Stony Creek is a special place. They say it’s either already in your blood or it gets into your blood.’

‘Have you ever wanted to leave?’

‘I did once,’ Leah said.

‘Where did you go?’

‘Would you believe, London?’

Isabelle raised her eyebrows in surprise and Leah laughed.

‘Yeah, I know – perhaps I should have picked a smaller city first. It was overwhelming after living here all my life. Even spending time in Adelaide at boarding school didn’t prepare me for London.’

‘What made you come back?’ Isabelle asked, before biting into her warm raspberry and white chocolate muffin. She groaned with pleasure.

‘I told you the food here is amazing,’ Leah said. ‘I guess I came back because I’m a country girl at heart and the city life didn’t suit me. Or rather, I didn’t suit the city life. I got a job as a receptionist in a law firm in Earl’s Court, but when they wanted me to wear killer heels and skirts instead of pants and flat shoes, I knew I was in the wrong place.’ Leah chuckled as she sucked her stomach in and patted her waist. ‘Can you imagine me trying to squish myself into one of those pencil skirts or whatever they call them? They’d look okay on you, but I bulged out in all the wrong places!’

Isabelle laughed. She liked the way Leah didn’t take herself too seriously. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever worn skirts like that. My style is more beach wear.’

‘So I’ve noticed,’ Leah replied.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Isabelle was instantly on the defensive.

‘I reckon I might have to help you find more practical clothes for living in a country town. Dad would have a fit if you showed up at the farm in those shorts and thongs.’  

‘By all means you can take me shopping, but I imagine the choices are limited unless I want to wear jeans, a shirt and boots every day.’

Leah looked down at her own clothes and laughed. ‘You got that right, but I’ve become an expert at online shopping.’

‘When did you come back to Australia?’ Isabelle asked, returning to the original topic of conversation.

‘I travelled while I was there – trotted over to Europe and came home when my money ran out. I was away for four years and came back six years ago.’

‘But you don’t live on the farm anymore? You mentioned something about not living with your parents.’

‘Gosh, no! I bought a place in town and I’ve spent the last two years doing it up. I’ll take you past later and show you. It might give you some ideas for working on your place. It’s stone, like yours and tiny, but it’s the perfect size for me and Max.’

‘Max?’ Isabelle’s ears pricked up instantly. Until now, Leah had made no mention of a significant other.

‘Don’t get too excited. Max is my cat. The biggest ginger cat you will ever meet. A pure-bred Persian. Totally impractical in the bush, always covered in knots and tangles, but I love her.’

‘Her?’

‘Yeah. They told me she was a boy when I got her as a kitten but it turns out,
he
is actually a
she
! I only found out when she produced a litter of kittens a few weeks ago. So Max should become Maxine, but when you meet her, you’ll know why I’ll always call her Max. It fits.’

‘I’m not much of a cat lover, to be honest,’ Isabelle said. ‘Fletch loves animals, and I promised him if we moved I’d consider getting a dog, but I’m not going to bring up the topic unless he does.’

‘Oh you
have
to get a dog,’ Leah exclaimed. ‘It’d be perfect for the kids, and your yard is big enough. Dad’s dogs are always having pups, so let me know when you want one.’

‘What sort of dogs?’

‘Kelpies.’

Isabelle scrunched up her face. ‘They’re farm dogs. I was thinking something small. More of a lap dog. Maybe one of those poodle-cross dogs that don’t shed any hair.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Issie, you don’t want a fluffy dog around here. And trust me, when you see the kelpie pups, it’ll be love at first sight.’

‘We’ll see,’ Isabelle replied, finishing off the last of her drink.

‘Tell me more about yourself,’ Leah said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs, looking like she had all the time in the world. ‘Start at the beginning.’

Isabelle relaxed back into her chair. ‘I’m an only child. My parents married later in life. I’m not sure they ever planned on having kids – I always imagined I was an unwelcome surprise.’

‘Do you get along with them?’

‘Some days yes, some days no. I guess you would say we’ve formed an uneasy truce over the years. As a teenager I had little to do with them. They worked fulltime and sent me off to boarding school at Geelong Grammar, despite living twenty minutes away in Newtown. My father’s a plastic surgeon and my mother was his nurse. Now she works as his receptionist.’

‘So you followed in your mum’s footsteps and went into nursing?’

Isabelle shook her head. ‘No. I think that was the first of many disappointments for them. Dad wanted me to do medicine, but there was no way I ever would have got the marks. Karen – Mum – suggested nursing, but I didn’t start studying until after Fletcher was born. When I finally finished my degree and my graduate year, I had Mietta. Dan had a well-paid job and liked me being home with the kids, so I only worked occasionally.’ Leah’s eyes widened and Isabelle laughed. ‘I know, I know. It makes me sound like a 1950s housewife.’