The Peppercorn Project (17 page)

‘I didn’t realise I’d have to do home visits when I signed up for this job,’ Isabelle jokingly complained to Hugo later the next afternoon.

Hugo glanced across at her. ‘Some people can’t make it into the clinic so we need to go out to them. It doesn’t happen often. Usually there’s something to bring them in.’

‘But I’m not trained to do district nursing.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Hugo assured her. ‘Besides, I’m here to help.’

Isabelle let out a frustrated sigh. He was right. It was only her own insecurities stopping her. They were together in Hugo’s car – a silver Audi that was totally impractical for the corrugated yellow gravel road they were driving along. He was going faster than Isabelle was comfortable with, but she didn’t want to make a fuss and ask him to slow down. She was glad it was his car, not her own, as she wouldn’t relish having to clean it after driving on the dusty roads. On either side of the road clusters of dirty sheep stood together in their dry paddocks. There was no grass, only stubble. River red gums dotted the landscape, marking the course of the dry creek bed.

They soon pulled up at their first stop and Isabelle gasped in surprise.

‘Do people
live
here?’

‘Yep. George and Edith Patterson. They’ve lived here forever.’

Part sandstone, part rusty brown galvanised iron, the house looked derelict. One of the front windows was covered with a sheet of plywood, and a missing veranda post gave the house a lopsided appearance. She had the feeling that one strong northerly wind would tilt the house over further.

‘Are you ready?’ Hugo asked, stepping from the car.

‘I’m not sure, to be honest.’ The house not only looked uninhabitable, it didn’t look safe.

‘Follow me and keep smiling. And if you want my advice, say no when you’re offered a cup of tea.’

Isabelle had no time to ask what he meant when the front door swung inwards and a withered old woman stood there waiting for them in the dim shadows. She wore a dirty dress and slippers on her feet.

‘G’day Mrs P. How are you doing today?’

The old woman ignored Hugo and gazed suspiciously at Isabelle. ‘Who are you?’

‘This is Isabelle. She’s the new nurse,’ Hugo replied.

‘Where’s Alison?’

‘She’s in Adelaide helping her mum. She had a fall.’

‘Hmph,’ Edith grunted. ‘I know all that. I thought Alison was supposed to be back already.’

‘Well, she’s not,’ Hugo said.

‘Where’d you come from? I haven’t seen you around these parts before.’ Edith screwed up her face at Isabelle.

‘Isabelle is one of the Peppercorn Project families,’ Hugo said.

The old woman’s face changed instantly, lighting up like a Christmas tree. ‘Oh how delightful. It’s so lovely to meet you. Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea? I’d love to hear how you’re fitting in. Isn’t Stony Creek a wonderful town?’

Isabelle looked questioningly at Hugo and saw the slight shake of his head. She was sure he’d winked at her too. ‘Thank you for the offer, Mrs Patterson, but I’ve only recently had a cup,’ she fibbed.

‘You can call me Edith, dear. Well now, you both had better come in out of the heat. Me old man is waiting for you inside.’

The narrow hallway was lined with boxes and unidentified objects and there was barely room to pass.

Hugo whispered in her ear, his breath warm on the side of her face. He smelled of peppermint. ‘She’s a hoarder, but don’t mention it, or she’ll stop and tell you what’s in every single box. God only knows how she knows, but apparently she does.’

Isabelle’s eyes widened. They squeezed through a small gap between sagging cardboard boxes and found themselves in a darkened room. The stench hit her, filling her nostrils and making her want to gag. She breathed through her mouth and waited for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

‘This is George,’ Edith said, pointing to a man lying in the bed. ‘He won’t give you any grief.’ Then she walked out of the room.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ Isabelle whispered uneasily.

‘Get him out of bed, shower him and get him dressed. While you’re doing that I’ll chat with Mrs P and make sure George is taking his meds.’

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Isabelle asked.

‘Dementia. He should be in a home, but Edith refuses to let him go. He’d have to go to Wilmington and Edith doesn’t drive much, so she’d rarely be able to visit him. I know it doesn’t look like it, but she does love him. Unfortunately, he won’t be leaving here until it’s in a pine box.’

Hugo left the room and Isabelle stared at the old man in the bed. At first she had no idea where to begin, but then common sense kicked in. She opened the blind then the window, hoping fresh air would flow into the stifling room. Instead, the hot northerly wind blew in a fine layer of dust.

‘Hello, George. I’m Isabelle. The nurse. I’m going to get you up and into the shower, okay?’

There was no response. She pulled the covers back and was shocked at how emaciated he was. He stared at her through watery eyes as she swung his legs around and sat him on the side of the bed. Isabelle’s nose wrinkled at the unpleasant smell. Alison hadn’t warned her about this part of the job.

‘Come on then, George, let’s get you cleaned up.’

George allowed Isabelle to take him by the arm. He shuffled across to the hallway to the bathroom opposite the bedroom and sat on the white plastic shower chair that stood in the middle of the large, tiled room. Isabelle watched. Surely, he didn’t expect her to remove his wet pyjamas. Oh God, he did!

‘Come on then, mate. I need you to stand so I can get these wet daks off you.’

Ten minutes later, Edith walked back into the bathroom.

‘I’m done with the doc now so I’ll finish up here and you can get going.’

Never in her life had Isabelle wanted to run away so fast.

*

‘Hugo tells me you’re living in Hilary’s house,’ Edith said as they stood out at the car, twenty minutes later. Galahs screeched as they flew overhead. The heat was like a heavy blanket and even the mild breeze was hot. Isabelle could still smell the house on her skin.

‘I am,’ Isabelle said, brushing flies from around her face.

‘Have you met her?’

‘Not yet. I haven’t really had a chance.’

‘You should. Lovely lady, although she’s getting on in years. Must be close to ninety I would reckon. She’s older than me. Anyway, you should go and visit her. She’d love to know who got her house.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Isabelle hopped in the stifling hot car.

‘She and her hubby were Ten Pound Poms. He was a real larrikin.’

‘Is he still alive too?’ Isabelle asked.

‘No, no. He died a long time ago. When he was quite young. Not long after they moved to Australia.’

An icy chill travelled down Isabelle’s spine.

Edith turned to Hugo. ‘Now Hugo, would you do me a favour? When you head back to town, if you run into Geoff or Matt can you let them know we’ve been having trouble out here?’

‘What sort of trouble?’

‘Nothing too serious. Little things. Last week all the sheep got out of the top paddock and onto the road. I swear I closed the gates. We’ve had cars driving along the road all times through the night. Odd things. I reckon someone’s stealing our stuff from one of the sheds. Mostly old farm equipment we haven’t used in years. Something’s not right.’

‘I’m sure it’s just kids mucking around,’ Hugo said.

Edith wagged a finger at Hugo as he turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. ‘Mark my words, young man, there’s trouble brewing in Stony Creek.’

*

Back in the car, Isabelle closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the sights and smells meshed into her memory from the visit to the Pattersons’ place. They hadn’t been driving long when Hugo slowed down. She opened her eyes in surprise to find him pulling over to park in a secluded spot near a creek bed. Large red gum trees provided enough shade to give the grass a slight tinge of green.

‘No point in rushing back to the clinic,’ Hugo said. ‘I thought we should take time out to sit and chat and get to know each other.’ He flicked his head back and his eyes bore into hers. ‘Is that okay?’

‘Sure,’ she stammered. She reached for the door handle but he was already out of the car and at her side, holding out his hand.

A ripple of something went through her when their fingers touched. Beginning in her heart, it travelled to her stomach, landing heavy in the pit of her gut. An internal alarm pinged.

‘Are there snakes?’ she asked, waving her hands to shoo the flies away from her face.

‘Possibly,’ he replied. ‘But they won’t bother us.’

He pulled a tartan picnic rug from the boot and lay it on the dried grass under a tree. Then he produced a bottle of wine and two glasses.

She looked at him in disbelief.

‘I thought this would be a nice quiet place away from everyone’s prying eyes. No interruptions. Just the two of us, nothing to do with work.’

He flopped on the blanket and lay on his side. She had no choice but to sit on the ground beside him. He poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her, then leaned back against the tree, watching her.

‘Should we be drinking? I’m still technically at work.’

‘Relax. It’s only one drink.’ He looked at his watch. ‘And somewhere in the world it’s wine-o’clock.’ Hugo winked. ‘Isn’t that what you women say?’

Isabelle didn’t want to appear rude. She rarely drank, but she took a gulp from her glass. The wine slipped down her throat like liquid gold. After a few more sips, she finished the glass and Hugo poured her another. She was feeling lightheaded, but perhaps it wasn’t just the wine.

She lay down on the blanket and stared up at the sky. Overhead, fluffy white clouds moved slowly. Hugo’s powerful aftershave wafted over her. She didn’t want to break the silence so she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Sensing Hugo shift positions, she snuck a quick peek at him through lowered lashes. He had rolled over and was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, watching her intently. She squeezed her eyes closed again, but knew immediately when he leaned over her, shadowing her face.

‘You’re so beautiful.’

Her eyes flicked open and she was startled to find his face so close. Something soft touched her cheek and she realised he was stroking her face with a feather. He traced the outline of her ear, her jaw, then trailed the feather slowly towards her chest. She tensed. He lifted his fingers to brush her hair away from her face, tucking it behind one ear. Isabelle froze – that was something Dan used to do.

‘I’m sorry, Hugo,’ she said, sitting up hurriedly and knocking over her empty glass. ‘This is wrong.’ She tucked her knees under her chin and faced him.

He stared back at her, his expression serious as he flicked his hair off his forehead. ‘I’m sorry too. I don’t want to rush you, but I want you to know I find you incredibly sexy.’

‘But we only met yesterday!’

‘True, but I felt something for you the moment I laid eyes on you. I thought you felt it too.’

She
had
felt something, but she wasn’t sure it was what he was feeling. She tried to laugh it off. ‘You don’t know anything about me, Hugo. Seriously, you know
nothing
about me.’

‘But I’d like to get to know you more,’ he said. ‘After all, we’re both young, single—’

‘I’m
married.
’ The words rushed out before she could stop them.

‘I was told your husband was dead.’

Who had told him? ‘He is. But it hasn’t even been a year. I’m not ready for another relationship.’

‘Perhaps you should tell that to Matt Robertson,’ Hugo muttered.

A truck roared past then, the driver tooting his horn at them. It broke the moment and Isabelle hastily stood and headed back to the car. She had no idea what else to say. Sure, she found Hugo attractive, but he’d be the type more interested in a casual fling than a long-term relationship. Neither of which Isabelle wanted.

*

They drove in complete silence back to town and Isabelle was relieved when Hugo dropped her straight home. His final words as she stepped out of the car were not the words she wanted to hear.

‘I’m happy to wait for you to be ready. Take as much time as you need. You know where to find me.’

When Isabelle closed the front door moments later, the silence inside the house was deafening and she remembered the kids were with Leah at the pool. She threw herself across her bed and howled.

As far as she could figure, she had two major problems. First, she had no idea how much time she needed, and second, she did not want Hugo to wait for her.

She wanted Matt.

*

Leah found her on her bed, hugging her pillow, an hour later. ‘Want to talk?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘Dan?’

‘Yes, in part.’ There was no way Isabelle was going to mention Hugo. It was awkward remembering what he’d said now, let alone telling Leah. Space and time had sobered Isabelle up.

‘Is it work?’ Leah asked.

‘Partly that too,’ Isabelle replied.

‘I hear you had Jess Simpkin in the clinic yesterday. That would have been tough.’

So much for patient confidentiality, Isabelle thought wryly. She nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Was she looking for drugs?’

Isabelle frowned. ‘No. Why would she be looking for drugs at the clinic?’

Leah shrugged but didn’t answer her question. ‘I also hear you and Hugo went out the Pattersons’ house.’

‘We did.’
How did she know that?

‘Edith Patterson called Pat Wallace the minute you’d left. Pat called Mum, and Mum called me.’

Isabelle groaned softly, remembering Hugo’s words of caution. After hearing from Edith, Pat would have paired them together. Now the whole town doubtless thought the two of them were an item. If that truck driver was a local, he would have recognised Hugo’s Audi immediately, and known who was lying on a picnic rug in the sun at the creek. It was probably why he’d tooted his horn as he drove past. Isabelle ran her fingers through her hair. How would she talk herself out of this hole? Her biggest concern was Fletcher or Mietta finding out, but she was also anxious about how she would explain it to Matt if he found out.