Broken (12 page)

Stupidly standing just behind Jake as he levered the cork from a bottle of champagne to celebrate their arrival, she was struck in the eye with his elbow. And the next morning woke to find her eye swollen and rimmed by a rainbow of patchy blues. Which, over the course of a week, dulled to an ugly, dirty brown that looked like the puckered skin of a badly bruised apple
.

The oddest thing about the eye was the stares it attracted. Lingering, pitying glances that then flicked across to Jake with mute accusation. It didn't seem to occur to anybody that it was an accident, just one of those things. Instead, although no-one ever said anything, it was perfectly clear what they were thinking. And from an initial sense of embarrassment, Mattie grew steadily more resentful at the very assumption
.

T
he telephone was ringing when Mattie entered the unit but despite flinging her handbag aside and running into the kitchen, she was too late. The dial tone trilled in her ear, with a monotony that reminded her of Morse code.
Urgent message – stop – where were you? – stop – too late now – stop
. She hung up the phone roughly in disappointment. Maybe it'd been Jake. Maybe – probably. Definitely. Mattie clenched her fists impotently. But at least that made the decision about what to do with the remainder of the day a lot easier. She was staying home and waiting for him to try again.

Mattie kicked off her boots and lined them up neatly by the door before making a cup of coffee and a sandwich. She glanced at the phone intermittently, willing it to ring, but it remained silent. So she settled down at the table with her lists to distract herself. So far she had handed out twelve invitations to the party – eight rather casual ones at the school, two rather impulsively just now at her mother's, one to Hilda, and one posted to Liz. There was still Rachel and Ginny at the swim centre, and a few women from school that she hadn't caught up with yet, but she should be seeing all of them on Monday. Mattie estimated that about half of those invited would actually come, which still made for ten guests – more than enough for the small unit. Everybody should get on rather well, too, perhaps with the exception of her mother and Hilda. Although roughly the same age, the two women were worlds apart in every aspect. One sturdy and competent, the other embracing frailty as an accessory to life.

With this last reflection, Mattie's thoughts drifted back to the morning tea she'd just endured. Although disappointed with her mother's reaction, she was not surprised. Ignoring unpleasantness was how she always coped and she wasn't likely to change now. Certainly there was no chance that
she
would arrive at the door with a box of curtains or anything like that. Hannah, though, was a different matter. For the first time in years, Mattie actually craved the support of her older sister. Someone to lean on, to talk to. And it only made things worse that she was well aware that this support was within reach. All she had to do was break her silence, explain, admit the inadmissible, and maybe, probably, her sister would be there for her. But the simple truth was that it was harder to break the habit of years than it was to stand alone. Much harder.

Mattie spent the next few hours playing with her lists. She rewrote the menu, adjusted the shopping list, flicked through the Whimsicalities product pamphlets, and wrote out invitations for her remaining guests. Only after she'd exhausted every possibility in planning for the party did she put them away and wander into the lounge-room. There she picked her handbag off the floor and put it away before fingering the heavy material of the drapes for a few minutes to put a smile on her face. Then she curled up on the couch with Sybil and the heroic Duke.

It was nearly five o'clock before the telephone rang again. Mattie almost tripped over her feet in her eagerness to get off the couch and answer it. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed the receiver off the wall on the second ring.

‘Hello?'

‘Hey there. You sound breathless. Been running, have you?'

‘Jake.'

‘The one and only' he laughed warmly. ‘Why? Expecting someone else, were you?'

‘No, of course not.' Mattie relaxed, his voice and its cheerful tone lightening her body to such an extent that she felt as if a weight had been physically removed. ‘Did you ring before?'

‘Yep. Couple of hours ago.'

‘I answered, but you'd already hung up.'

‘Well, that's what happens when you're gadding about.'

‘I was only at Mum's,' said Mattie quickly.

‘Ah. Fun, hey?'

‘A laugh a minute. How're the kids?'

‘Good. Fine. They're outside cleaning up the patio for me.' Jake's voice became businesslike. ‘Listen, we're having a barbecue tea, and they wanted you to join us. What do you think?'

‘A barbecue tea?'

‘That's what I said.'

‘Um . . .' Mattie was grinning already, but deliberately waited a moment or so before answering. ‘Actually, that sounds lovely. Thank you. What time?'

‘Anytime you like. Come now if you want.'

‘Do you want me to bring anything?'

‘Just yourself.' Jake's voice was warm. ‘That's all we've ever wanted.'

An hour later and Mattie, still dressed in her jeans and black shirt, was firmly ensconced in a cedar outdoor chair, a scotch and coke in her hand, while she watched Jake fire up the barbecue. The patio, where the black chrome barbecue was situated, was set into the L shape of their house, with a sliding door leading out from the family room. Both the kitchen and dining room had windows that looked out over the area.

As Mattie and Jake were fond of outdoor relaxing, the patio had been their first major project after buying the home. It was decked to the same level as the floor plan, with three broad steps leading down into the backyard. A large circular cedar table with a revolving lazy susan set into the centre stood near the barbecue surrounded by matching chairs and a wooden slatted deckchair that Jake had given Mattie for Christmas the year before. Two hanging plants, both bushy asparagus ferns, were suspended either side of the steps, and in each corner of the patio was a ceramic-potted plant with many-fingered leaves that sprung upwards and outwards with an almost vulgar display of vitality. The overall effect was, Mattie thought, like something out of
Home Beautiful
. It was her favourite place in the entire house – neat, vibrant and incredibly relaxing.

She picked up her scotch and took a sip, closing her eyes briefly as
she felt the liquid trickle down her throat, warming her from the inside out. Whilst it wasn't a cold evening, there was a lively cool breeze that made Mattie glad of the family room jutting out behind and protecting them from the vitality of the weather. The plumy smoke from the barbecue billowed upwards, until it cleared the patio area and was taken by the wind, threading apart quickly to merge with the clouds above. But it would have taken a lot more than the wind to dint Mattie's contentment. She felt full, brimmingly full, so full that her happiness could barely be contained and kept spilling over to express itself in touches and smiles and an almost ridiculous sense of all being right in her world. She was at home.

Jake turned for a second and gave her one of his lopsided smiles, picking up his own glass and gesturing a toast. Mattie smiled back. He was dressed more casually than she was, with navy Adidas tracksuit pants and a loose grey cut-off windcheater top, which made him look relaxed, and more muscly than thin. But he also looked tired, with dark shadows under his eyes, as if he hadn't been sleeping well. Or had been worrying too much. Mattie grimaced and looked away.

Courtney, dressed in her tutu once more, pushed her way through the sliding door with her arms full and came over to her mother busily. She immediately continued the conversation they'd been having earlier, regarding her pocket money purchases, as if there'd been no pause in it at all.

‘And so this is what I bought at the two-dollar shop. A set of gel pens, a clickety frog thing …' Courtney placed each object down on the table before her mother as she spoke. ‘And a little torch on a key-ring you can light up. See?'

‘Very nice,' commented Mattie, watching the beam of the tiny flashlight flicker unsteadily.

‘Yes. I'm going to use it in my doll's house for the torch of the people.'

‘That sounds like a political tool,' commented Jake, holding his drink aloft and speaking in a sonorous voice: ‘Truth, justice and liberty for all, comrade! The torch of the people!'

Courtney rolled her eyes. ‘You're silly'

Max came through the open sliding door with a plateful of meat. He
stopped long enough to pull the door closed behind him with his foot before continuing over to his father and passing him the plate.

‘Thanks, mate.' Jake unpeeled the cling wrap and started adding sausages to the burgers and steaks already on the barbecue.

‘Can I look after them?' asked Max, his eyes on the sizzling meat.

‘Sure.' Jake pierced a couple of sausages and passed the long-handled tongs over to his son, who immediately began flipping meat with concentration. With his drink in his hand, Jake leant against the brick wall of the house, keeping an eye on Max.

‘Can I do it too?' Courtney stopped examining her purchases and stared at her brother with jealousy. ‘What he's doing?'

Max shot a filthy look over his shoulder. ‘I asked first!'

‘Maybe next time,' Jake grinned. ‘But you can grab the salads if you want to help.'

‘I don't want to do
that.'

‘Well, you're going to. And close the door behind you this time.'

‘I'll help.' Mattie started getting up.

‘No you won't,' Jake said, waving her back down. ‘You're a guest.'

‘How lovely.' Mattie sank back into her seat and smiled across at Jake. ‘I feel spoilt.'

‘Good.'

Courtney pushed her toys over into a pile on the other end of the table while she glared at her father, mother and brother in turn. Then she stomped into the house, turning to ostentatiously close the sliding door before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.

‘So what have you been up to?' asked Jake of Mattie.

‘Oh, nothing much. This and that.'

‘Mum's going to work at the community centre,' interjected Max, glancing at his mother with shy pride. ‘Helping people and all that.'

‘You're what?' Jake pulled out a chair and straddled it backwards, his eyes fixed on her the entire time.

‘Oh, it's nothing much. I was just thinking I was a bit bored. And I wanted to do …' Mattie faltered slightly under his regard. ‘You know … something.'

‘Go on.'

‘Well, there isn't anything else. I'll just be helping there once in a while, that's all.'

‘Don't you have to do a course?'

‘Yes. A community service course.'

‘Well congratulations.' Jake got back up and took the tongs from Max. ‘Good to see you're moving on so quickly. Branching out and all.'

‘It's not like that,' said Mattie earnestly to his back. ‘Just something to do.'

‘You could always try coming back. Plenty to keep you occupied here.'

Mattie flashed a glance at Max, who was standing by the barbecue staring at the busy tongs. As she thought desperately what to say to best defuse the situation, Courtney came back through the sliding door and slapped a clear plastic bowl of tossed salad down onto the table. After a quick glower at her family, she stomped inside again, the pink tulle quivering.

‘I'll help her,' muttered Max to nobody in particular. He left the barbecue and walked inside without looking in his mother's direction.

‘It's nothing, Jake,' said Mattie quickly. ‘Really. If you think I'm moving on or whatever, you couldn't be further from the truth. It's just like volunteering for canteen or reading at the school. Only it's for the community. With a few other women, that's all.'

‘Yeah.' Jake flipped some sausages in silence. Then he turned back to her. ‘Don't worry about it. I'm just paranoid.'

Mattie smiled at him with relief as she felt the tension drain out of her body. As Jake returned to the barbecue, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for just a second. Sometimes it was such hard work. Like a minefield where every now and then, quite unknowingly, you strayed too close and had to carefully negotiate the danger while praying fervently that it wouldn't blow up in your face.

Courtney came back through the sliding door with a bowl of coleslaw balanced awkwardly on top of a wicker basket of bread. Leaving the door open, she walked carefully over to the table where Mattie grabbed the coleslaw before it could topple off. Courtney put the bread down and slid back into her seat. She was followed by Max, who brought the barbecue cutlery, a stack of brightly coloured picnic plates and plastic cups, and a bottle of soft drink. He piled them onto the table and then
fished in one pocket of his jeans and extracted a bottle of tomato sauce. The other pocket produced the salt and pepper shakers.

‘Very innovative.' Mattie smiled at him, reaching out and touching his shoulder reassuringly.

‘Anything else there?' Jake dropped the tongs suddenly and, lunging forward, grabbed Max and started to frisk him. The boy yelped with surprise and then, as his father tickled him, started laughing helplessly as he tried to protect himself, with little success. Jake stopped as suddenly as he'd started, leaving Max bent over and gasping for breath, his whole body a smile of delight.

‘Grub's up!' Jake loaded a plate with sausages and burgers and steak, passing it across to the table. While he did this, Mattie filled two of the plastic cups with soft drink and gave one to each child. Then she set out the plates and cutlery and took the tongs to dole out some salad while Max and Courtney used their forks to spear meat. As they all helped themselves, Jake turned the gas off at the barbecue and, using a spatula, scraped the thick metal plate and flicked the charred crumbs over the edge of the patio onto the lawn. Then he took a small jug of water from the side of the barbecue and poured it over the hotplate, the water immediately sizzling into effervescent beads and sending hissing clouds of steam upwards. Only when that was all done did Jake sit down and pull the plate of meat towards himself.