The Peppercorn Project (13 page)

‘I’m happy for you to call me Issie.’ Her smile was in place but the corners of her lips quivered as if the effort to smile was making them weak. ‘Just don’t call me Belle.’

Had she read his mind? ‘Why?’

‘Because that’s what Dan always called me.’

Matt showed up at Isabelle’s house at three thirty that afternoon ready to put the lamb into her oven and was thwarted by a locked front door. Wandering around the back of the house, he was surprised to find the back door also locked. As he was deciding the best course of action, voices carried on the wind. He walked back around to the front and Mietta appeared, skipping along the footpath. There was no sign of Isabelle, but he was sure he’d heard her voice. Mietta pulled up short at the sight of him and her mouth dropped open in a silent O.

‘Hey, Mietta. I’m Matt Robertson. Remember me?’

She nodded her head slowly, peering up at him, blue eyes like saucers. Matt realised how odd he must look, standing at her front door in his uniform, cradling a large tray of raw meat.

Seconds later Isabelle appeared, flushed and frazzled. She didn’t look happy to see him. ‘What are you doing here so early?’

‘I wanted to surprise you and pop the meat in the oven now. The longer it cooks, the better it will taste.’

‘I was out picking the kids up from school.’

‘I know. That’s why I came around now. I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted to be in and out before you came home.’

She put her hands on her hips and her chin jutted forward in the defiant gesture he was getting to know well. ‘How did you expect to get inside? Were you planning on using your police powers to break and enter?’

She was clearly not happy with him.

‘I didn’t think the doors would be locked,’ he answered carefully.

‘What? Why wouldn’t I lock my doors?’

‘No one locks their doors around here.’

‘But someone might steal my things.’

Matt shook his head. ‘Everyone knows everyone else. If someone was to show up with something new that didn’t belong to them, people would start asking questions.’

‘Still doesn’t mean I shouldn’t lock my doors. That’s just crazy.’

He decided on a different approach. ‘Where’s Fletcher?’

She scowled. ‘Detention. He was rude to Rachel in class, so she’s keeping him back for an hour.’ She pointed to the meat. ‘That looks heavy.’

‘It’s not. But I would like to get it in the oven, if it’s okay with you.’

‘What is it?’ Mietta asked, finding her voice.

He bent down to show her. ‘It’s going to be tonight’s dinner. Roast lamb.’

Mietta clapped her hands and jumped up and down. ‘I love roast lamb. Like Daddy used to make.’ She stopped jumping and gave Matt another look he couldn’t interpret. She tilted her head to one side. ‘But Mummy doesn’t eat meat.’

‘Mummy’s going to try it.’

‘She never tried it for Daddy.’ Mietta’s eyes were still huge in her oval face.

‘Come inside then,’ Isabelle interrupted. ‘I’m sure all the neighbours are peering out their windows wondering what you’re doing here. No point giving them something to gossip about.’

Matt put the tray on the bench and turned to face her. ‘You’ll have to get used to people knowing your business. It’s par for the course in a town this size.’

‘Great,’ she answered sarcastically.

Under Isabelle’s watchful scrutiny, Matt took over her small kitchen, turning on the oven and placing the meat inside.

‘What do I have to do to it?’ she asked.

‘Nothing. Let it cook. I’ll be back later to put the veggies on. We’ll eat at about six thirty. Does that work for you?’

‘That’s fine. We usually eat around then. Are you sure you don’t want me to do something for you?’

‘It depends what you’re offering?’

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened.

‘Sorry, that came out the wrong way.’

‘I meant shall I make a dessert or something?’

‘Yeah, that’d be nice. I must admit I have a sweet tooth.’

‘But not such a sweet way with words,’ she said with a small laugh.

The teasing tone had returned. Matt marvelled at the way Isabelle went from serious to joking in a heartbeat. He joined in the laughter.

‘I’ll see you at six,
Issie,
’ he emphasised, as much for her benefit as for his own.

He’d been about to call her Belle.

*

‘What’s going on with Fletcher Cassidy?’ Matt asked ten minutes later as he squatted opposite Rachel in one of the kids’ plastic school chairs. He’d headed straight from Isabelle’s house to the school. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and looked her in the eye.

Rachel avoided his gaze. ‘He’s just testing the boundaries.’

‘What’s been going on?’

‘I think he’s been stealing things.’

Matt raised an eyebrow. ‘You “think”?’

‘Like I said, I can’t be sure it’s him.’

‘Why the detention then?’

‘Rudeness. Swearing. Insolence. Bad manners.’ Rachel ticked them off on her fingers. ‘Choose any one of those. He’s had a tough year, but there’s no need for him to start off on the wrong foot here. I asked him about the missing things and he clammed right up. Either he’s stealing, or he knows who is. I told him not to cover for someone else and his response was he doesn’t want anyone to label him as a dobber.’

‘Why didn’t you tell all of this to Isabelle this afternoon when she came to pick him up?’

Rachel frowned at him.
Bugger.
Now she’d know he’d seen Isabelle and they’d talked about what was happening. ‘I’ve just come from her place now,’ he explained. There was no way he was going to tell Rachel why.

‘What did she say?’

‘It’s what she
didn’t
say,’ he replied. ‘Put it this way, she had steam coming out of her ears.’

‘Angry with me?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe with Fletcher.’

‘Yeah,’ Rachel sighed. ‘She was furious. Perhaps I’ll drop by tonight and have a chat to her.’

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Matt said. The last thing he needed was Rachel to show up at Isabelle’s house in the middle of their dinner. That was a surefire way for her to get the wrong idea.

‘Perhaps I’ll call her.’

‘Yeah, you could ask her to come and see you tomorrow – with Fletcher. Have a chat about what’s going on.’

‘Since when did you know the best way to handle kids?’ Rachel said.

He shrugged. ‘In a previous life I used to be a youth group leader. It was one of the reasons I wanted to enter the force – to work with young people and help them make better choices.’

‘Very altruistic of you.’

Matt couldn’t tell whether Rachel was being sarcastic. ‘As it turned out, I didn’t have much of a chance in Adelaide. I ended up in narcotics – up to my eyeballs dealing with kids who were up to
their
eyeballs on drugs. It’s hard to help a kid make good choices when they’re already high before they’ve hit thirteen.’

‘At least we don’t have that problem here,’ Rachel replied.

‘Not yet, but there’s no point pretending drugs won’t find their way to us. Ice has taken over country towns in Victoria, and it won’t be long before it crosses the border. The Vic cops don’t know how to get rid of the problem. So we have to be proactive – let people know so they can be on the lookout for any changes in behaviour.’

Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘At least it’s not something I’m going to have to deal with at the primary school level.’

‘That’s where you could be wrong,’ Matt argued. ‘Some kids as young as twelve are exposed to ice in the city. Their older brothers and sisters – hell, even some of their
parents
are using it.’

Rachel gaped at him.

‘It’s easy to manufacture, it’s affordable and it’s easily available. Tick, tick, tick. The first time these kids use it they feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. And
that’s
what worries and scares me. That’s why I’m always banging on about it. I have no doubt in my mind it’s only a matter of when, not if, the ice epidemic hits Stony Creek.’

Rachel frowned. ‘It’s not like you to be so negative, Matt. You’re normally a glass half full kind of guy. I know this is your soapbox, but it’s time you stepped down. You know this is a good town and we have good kids. I aim to keep it that way. My job is to teach, and make sure kids like Fletcher Cassidy
stay
good kids and get a good education.’

‘And my job?’

‘Simple. Keep the drugs out of Stony Creek.’

Matt inhaled deeply. He wasn’t going to change her mind so he changed the subject. ‘What’s the deal with the thefts at school?’

‘As I said, I’m not sure if it
is
Fletcher, but, you know – after the incident with croissants …’ She left her sentence hanging in the air between them.

‘Don’t hold it against him,’ Matt said. ‘I’m sure it was a one-off thing.’

‘More food has gone missing.’

‘What kind of food?’

‘Kids’ lunches, that sort of stuff. Not every day, but on most days kids are missing something from their lunchboxes. Not only in Fletcher’s class, but in the other two classes as well. At this rate we’re going to have to make all the kids buy locks for their lockers – something we’ve never needed to do.’

‘Just food?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Again, little things. Favourite pens, highlighters, rulers. You know what kids are like – they say they’re missing something and you ignore it, they’ve probably just misplaced it. But every day kids are reporting they can’t find their school jumper or hat. It’s been going on since Fletcher arrived. Bit too much of a coincidence if you ask me, considering we’ve never had a problem with theft at the school before now.’

‘Hang on a minute – how many kids started school together with Fletcher and Mietta?’ A ball of injustice landed on his chest.

‘Eight.’

‘So it could be any of them?’

‘Yeah, fair point,’ Rachel conceded. ‘But the only one giving us grief is Fletcher. It makes sense he’s the one stealing stuff. Plus his history—’

‘History?’ Matt was indignant. ‘He stole
one
packet of croissants because he was hungry.
And
he apologised. Don’t hang these other thefts on him until you have proof.’

‘Whoa, settle down,’ Rachel stood and put her hands on her hips. ‘You were the one who had it in for the kid the first day he arrived.’ She glared up at him. ‘What’s changed?’

There was no way he’d admit his real reasons. ‘It doesn’t reflect well on Stony Creek, that’s all. You were the one who said we’re supposed to make the families feel welcome – help them get back on their feet, show them good old country hospitality and all that. We can’t go blaming the new kids without proof, or your whole precious Peppercorn Project will go belly up. Imagine having to explain that to Joe.’ Matt hoped by appealing to Rachel and Joe’s little ‘baby’, she’d buy his argument.

‘Well, I’ll keep my eyes peeled,’ Rachel agreed. ‘Perhaps it
is
one of the other kids looking for attention.’

‘Let me know if you have any troubles or need me to come in and chat to them as a group. And don’t forget, I’d also be more than happy to come and talk to them about the dangers of drugs.’

‘Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.’

Matt had no doubt she wouldn’t take him up on his offer.

‘What made
you
choose to move to Stony Creek?’ Isabelle asked Matt. ‘Were you drunk one night and threw a dart at a map?’

Matt detected the hint of mockery in her voice and once again, he liked the way it made him feel. She was flirting with him. He wasn’t one to need his ego stroked, but it was a long time since a woman had made him feel this way.

They sat opposite each other at her kitchen table, their plates empty and pushed away. The kids had long since disappeared, off to watch television in the lounge room. Matt was surprised when Isabelle had not only tasted the lamb he had lovingly cooked, but had eaten the whole meal. He wasn’t sure if she was making the effort for her kids’ benefit, or whether she’d actually enjoyed the meat. Fletcher and Mietta sang his praises and cleaned their plates.

Isabelle’s iPod sat in the docking station on a shelf on the kitchen dresser, music playing softly. Matt recognised the jazz singer as one of his own favourites – Diana Krall. The fact they shared similar taste in music made his heart beat a little faster. He could tell a lot about a person from the music they liked. Simone hated jazz.

‘I was looking for space,’ he began, ‘and Stony Creek has plenty of it.’

She cocked her head. ‘Space for what? To farm? To sit and gaze at your navel?’ Her eyes crinkled with laughter.

‘More like space to get away from the rat race.’

Her eyes bored into his. ‘Is that story you tell people when you don’t trust them? What’s the
real
reason?’

Three long beats of silence followed and music filled the gap. Matt made a decision to trust Isabelle with the truth.

‘My ex-wife, Simone – who also happens to be a lawyer – took me to the cleaners. She took the house, the cars, the furniture – everything. I guess you could also say she took my job too.’

‘How?’

‘She was having an affair with Andrew, one of my best mates. We’d worked narcotics together for a dozen years. The affair was going on under my nose for at least half that time and I had no idea. Some detective I turned out to be,’ he scoffed. ‘Most of our colleagues knew they were together. I couldn’t stand being around him, and it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere. I applied for a transfer. Andrew moved into my house – and my bed – and I took the position here in Stony Creek. I guess you could say I had nowhere else to go.’

As Matt spoke, he realised his honesty had brought the beginning of a new kind of intimacy between them – a step forward in their relationship. Did she feel it too?

‘What about children?’ she asked. ‘Did you have any kids together?’

‘Thankfully, no.’ Isabelle’s face fell and he hastened to add, ‘I always wanted children but the timing was never right. Simone’s got political aspirations, and a child would be a huge inconvenience.’ He smiled sadly. ‘At least that’s what she always told me. Now she’s expecting her first child any day, and from what I hear she’s over the moon.’ Matt was aware how bitter he sounded, which was not how he felt towards his ex-wife any more. ‘Anyway, good luck to them. I hope they’re happy, honestly.’

‘How long were you married?’

‘Almost eleven years.’

‘The same as Dan and me.’

Isabelle spoke softly, but not before Matt saw the glint of a tear form in her eyes and she glanced away. As much as he was desperate for more information, he wasn’t going to push her. When she was ready, she’d tell him about her husband. However, an alarm went off inside Matt’s brain causing his throat to constrict. Her husband might have passed away, but Isabelle still referred to him in the present tense. And that could only mean one thing. She was a long way from being ready for another relationship.

*

Isabelle stood and shoved her chair back. ‘Thanks for dinner.’ She angled her shoulders so Matt wouldn’t see the tears that formed as soon as she said Dan’s name. ‘I enjoyed it.’

She was foolish to think the worst of her grief was over because she was enjoying the company of another man. Some days the pain of his death flooded through her at the most inopportune of times. Like now. Now, when they were taking a step forward in their friendship.

‘I thought you must have liked it,’ Matt said, standing and taking the empty plate from her hands. ‘You practically scraped your plate clean. It’s good to see you eating.’

She frowned. ‘Are you trying to fatten me up too?’

He shook his head. ‘No, I promise I’m not.’

‘Good. Because I
do
eat, just not when I’m stressed.’

‘Who else is giving you a hard time?’

‘Rachel, for one. She’s relentless. Every time she sees me she nags me about how skinny I am.’

‘Ah yes. That sounds like Rach. She can be a bulldog.’

‘More like a bull
dozer
,’ Isabelle said under her breath. ‘No wonder she’s always at loggerheads with Fletcher.’

‘Did Fletcher talk to you about the detention?’ Matt asked.

‘Not really. He told me he’d been rude to Rachel. There’s probably more to the story but he’ll tell me when he’s ready.’ She crossed her fingers. ‘I hope.’

‘Would you like me to try to talk to him?’

‘I don’t think it would do any good.’ She sighed wearily. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what to do with him.’ Her lower lip trembled. ‘Dan would have—’

Her phone rang and she excused herself before swiping her thumb across the screen and answering. ‘Isabelle Cassidy.’

‘Oh, Isabelle, hi. This is Rachel King. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.’

‘Not at all. We were just finishing dinner.’

‘I heard Matt was cooking roast lamb for you.’

Isabelle pinched her lips together. Why had Matt told Rachel they were having dinner together? She tried to keep her voice neutral, but irritation flared. Who else had he told?

‘Yes, Matt did cook dinner for us. My children miss having roast lamb and I don’t cook it.’

Matt was frowning. Perhaps he hadn’t been the one to spread the news of their dinner date.

‘Anyway, Isabelle,’ Rachel continued, ‘can we catch up tomorrow? I think it would be a good idea to have a chat about how your kids are settling in.’

Isabelle grimaced. ‘Mietta is doing fine. It’s only Fletcher who’s having a difficult time adjusting.’

‘I know. That’s why we need to talk.’

‘As you know, it’s been an exceptionally difficult year. For all of us, but especially for Fletcher.’

‘I’m not blaming you.’ Rachel’s voice had softened. ‘I want to try to help, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Isabelle conceded. ‘What time tomorrow?’

They made the arrangements before Isabelle finished the call and turned to Matt, her hands on her hips.

‘Did you tell Rachel you were having dinner here tonight?’

‘No, I didn’t.’ Matt frowned. ‘But Stony Creek is a small place. Moving into a town this size is a double-edged sword. As people get to know you, they also feel they have a right to know everything
about
you. Joe probably worked out where I was going when I ordered the meat from him. I’m sorry if it’s made things awkward.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said, through gritted teeth.

It wasn’t fine, but she had no idea how to tell him that. She did not want, or need, the town gossip linking them together. She liked Matt – in all honesty she found him very sexy – but she was not interested in anything other than friendship. She still loved Dan, and if her kids heard anything in the schoolyard to the contrary they’d be devastated.

‘I’d better be going then,’ Matt said, gathering up his things. ‘Can I say goodnight to the kids first?’

Isabelle tucked her hair behind her ears and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The phone call was a disruption. After Matt had spoken so openly of his broken relationship with Simone, Isabelle had decided she would trust Matt with her story. She needed to tell him about Dan so he didn’t get any wrong ideas. But the moment passed and Isabelle missed her opportunity.

Standing at the open front door, she shifted impatiently from leg to leg, waiting for Matt to say his goodbyes to Fletcher and Mietta. Finally, he appeared and came towards her. His aftershave mixed with the homely smells of the roast lamb that still filled the house. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The sounds of jazz music swelled and drifted through the house to where they were standing, facing one another.

‘Let’s do this again, Issie.’

She opened her eyes and nodded, not trusting herself to speak in case she said something she would later regret.

Matt hesitated before leaning over and drawing her into a light embrace. She turned her head sideways against his chest and sensed the strength of his body under the fabric of his cotton shirt. The man was made of pure muscle. His chin rested gently on her head and she stood rock-still, not wanting to breathe and break the mood between them.

Hug him back.

Isabelle had no idea where the words came from, but she responded by slowly wrapping her arms around Matt’s waist. They clung together until something stirred within her – something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. She recognised it immediately. Hope. She couldn’t quite grasp it with her hands, but she saw it up ahead. It was only a glimpse, but it was enough. Her heart pounded and butterflies took flight. She was safe.

The music swelled and Frank Sinatra’s voice filled the silence between them. As Isabelle stood in Matt’s embrace, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, there could be something more than friendship between them one day.

*

When Isabelle climbed under the covers later that night, she gazed longingly at the picture of Dan, the only one she had kept out when unpacking in Stony Creek. It sat in a silver frame beside her bed. It was taken when he’d stepped out of the surf. The sun was rising and the early morning mist still hadn’t been blown out to sea. Dan had hooked his board under one arm and was striding up the beach towards where she had sat, watching him catch waves. Saltwater beaded across his bare chest and his muscles rippled beneath tanned skin. He was grinning happily, eyes hungrily looking deep into the camera lens, at her. He had a dusting of sand across his face and it had blended with the freckles that stood out across the bridge of his nose. The photo captured him perfectly. It was the last one of him she had.

She touched one finger to the glass and traced Dan’s face with her fingertips. Although she tried valiantly to keep the memories of him alive, time was cruel. Each day the memories faded a little bit more, until she feared one day they would all be erased. There were days Isabelle only remembered what he looked like when she caught sight of the photo. She picked up the frame, and as she did, the memories of their time together rushed back like a movie on high speed.

Isabelle did not agree time healed all wounds. The wounds remained, but over time, as a form of protection, her mind simply covered the wounds with scar tissue and slowly the pain diminished. Daniel had loved her wholly, as she had loved him. Part of her would never stop loving him, but as she clutched the photo to her chest and lay back on the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks, she heard his words clearly, as if he was speaking softly in her ear.

‘
Life goes on, Belle, life goes on.’