by Sasha Wasley
‘You just had the Year Elevens, didn’t you? How did it go?’
‘Pretty good.’ She bit into a cracker. ‘You had the Year Tens first thing, yeah? How was that?’
‘Not bad.’ He munched sushi thoughtfully. He even had some of those snap-apart bamboo chopsticks. ‘The kids are quite giggly and unfocused, aren’t they? I’d expected a little more maturity, I must confess.’
Free thought it over. ‘I guess there’s a difference even in one year. Mine were pretty good. I was probably the least mature of all of them.’ She gave him a half-grin.
Aidan ate in silence for a moment. ‘I suppose it’s only natural that kids will find art theory a little dull. Oh, hey.’ He brightened. ‘I’ve thought up a great theme for the tile wall. Tell me what you think.’ He leaned closer. ‘River of Life.’
Free’s love for the river surged at the idea. See? she told herself. He’s not like his mother at all.
‘That sounds amazing! Like, the story of the Waugal forming the river system, the wet and the dry seasons, the wildlife, the ecological heritage – a monument to our amazing river . . .’
He hesitated, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Free eyed his sushi longingly.
‘Oh, well – yes. I suppose it would be politically correct to include that stuff. I was referring to the agricultural side of things. Irrigation. The journey of the region from drought-stricken to irrigated by the new diversion dam. A celebration of the area’s growing agricultural livelihood.’
For a moment, Free thought Aidan must be joking. As son and heir to the company constructing the Herne River Diversion Dam, this was far too sleazy a move to be genuine. Wasn’t it?
It appeared he was serious. Aidan was waiting for her to reply, picking excess wasabi out of one of his sushi rolls.
Free spun her apple in her hands. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good thing to celebrate. I mean, the dam’s not even built yet. I don’t think it’s going to be good for the environment. If we use that theme for the tile wall, then we’ll have a permanent monument to something that caused environmental devastation.’
She’d hoped she was being tactful but the look on his face told her she’d missed the mark by a mile. Aidan put down his avocado roll.
‘Devastation? Seriously?’ He gave his head a minuscule shake. ‘You’re a farmer’s daughter, aren’t you?’
‘Um, yes. My family owns a cattle station.’
‘You understand farming then, don’t you?’
‘Well —’
‘See, this is why this sort of artwork matters. It educates people. It helps the everyday Joe understand what the Herne Dam will do for the town.’
Free blinked at his condescension. ‘Aidan, I didn’t mean to offend you. But with a permanent public artwork like this, maybe it’s too early to focus it on the dam, since we don’t even know if it will be completed. There are protests going on and calls for more environmental studies —’
‘Of course it’s going to be completed. And I’m not offended.’ He smiled at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he popped another piece of sushi into his mouth. ‘I enjoy a robust discussion – it’s the best type of flirting. I’ll discuss the concept with Jay and see what she thinks.’
Free was so rattled by the ‘flirting’ comment that she almost missed the way he’d completely ignored her opinion. What if Jay liked the River of Life idea too?
Free worried in silence about the fate of the project. Hopefully, the kids would come up with a better concept.
At the end of the day, Free headed home, stopping to snap her daily river photo. She had always heard that the mental work of teaching was exhausting, but she was so tired she almost couldn’t be bothered closing the garage roller door. Beth’s tales of Mount Clair break-ins and car thefts were the only thing that made her pull it down.
Her tabby cat was waiting for her on the porch railing. ‘Max,’ he said.
Free laughed. ‘Hello, Max. You hungry?’
As she unlocked her front door, Finn stepped out onto his porch, a pair of scissors in his hand. Now this was something nice to come home to.
‘Afternoon,’ he said.
‘Hi, Finn!’
She used scratching Max’s ears as an excuse to dillydally, not taking her eyes off Finn. Every time she saw him she was surprised anew by how handsome he was, with that genuine smile.
And that holy-mother-of-God muscular body.
Stop, she snapped at herself. Stop objectifying him! ‘How was your day?’ she asked, fixing her gaze on his face.
‘Good. And yours?’
‘Great! I mean, scary as hell, but it turned out okay.’
Finn’s smile grew. ‘I bet you were a hit with the kids.’
‘They’re lovely. They were really good to me. But I was still terrified.’
He leaned on the little balustrade dividing their porches. ‘I remember my first day working in Mount Clair. I was petrified too. Senior Sergeant Briggs – let’s just say he can be pretty intimidating.’
‘Oh God, yes. I bet. The tatts. The facial hair.’
‘It was more his pep talk,’ said Finn. ‘He pulled me into his office, sat me down opposite him and said, “Right, Kelly, you’re fresh out of your probation in Perth and this is your trial by fire. You might think Mount Clair’s a harmless backwater, but the place is a hotbed of issues – issues that have been here since the whites got off the boat and decided they owned the joint.”’
Free was impressed. ‘Holy crap.’
‘I got a half-hour lecture on the topic. “Now, these issues aren’t the be-all and end-all of the problems in Mount Clair, but they sure as hell act as a starter gun for a lot of them,” Briggsy said.’
Free’s respect for Briggsy doubled. ‘He’s right. Transgenerational trauma. It’s like a sore spot that gets worse and worse over time.’
‘That’s it, yeah.’ Finn leaned down to a potted plant on the porch and clipped some leaves with his scissors. It was coriander, Free realised.
‘You’re cooking?’
‘Yeah. Thai green curry.’
‘Oh, yum.’
He hovered. ‘You hungry? I’ve made too much.’
Free practically bounced on the spot. ‘For real? I’d love some!’
‘What about Max?’
‘He’ll be fine. I’ll feed him later. Let me just dump my stuff. I’ll be there in a sec.’
Free dashed inside and put her gear down. She changed into a fresh skirt and singlet before heading to the bathroom to brush her hair and apply lip gloss. That’s enough, she told herself as she sprayed perfume. The poor guy was just inviting her over for a spontaneous neighbourly meal, and she was acting like it was a romantic dinner. She gave Max some biscuits, not wanting Finn to think she was a neglectful owner, grabbed a bottle of wine and headed next door.
Finn opened the door with a smile but it faltered when he swept a glance over her. Free almost panicked. Had she dressed inappropriately? But there was nothing negative in his face as he opened the door wider to welcome her inside. It smelled good in his house, like garlic, lemongrass and spices. She followed him to the kitchen, stomach rumbling.
‘I’m crap at cooking,’ she confessed. ‘It must be so good to have culinary skills.’
‘I wouldn’t say I’m skilled.’ He stirred the pot on the stove and moved across to rinse the coriander at the sink. ‘I can do enough to get by.’
‘That’s still better than me. Wine?’ she offered, unscrewing the bottle top.
‘Yeah, okay. I don’t generally drink wine but I’ll give it a go.’
‘More of a beer drinker?’
‘Beer and cider.’
‘That’s so Dublin.’
Finn looked at her quickly. ‘Sorry?’
‘Or is it Northern Ireland? I’m not very good at picking the specific region from an accent.’
He forgot his stirring, eyes on her face. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Aren’t you from Ireland?’
‘How – how did you know that?’
Free relaxed. ‘Phew, I thought I’d got it wrong for a second! It’s your accent. It’s very faint but I can hear it. And the way you look, I think. There’s just something Irish about you. You’re solid and strong, and you have a kindness in the way you talk.’ She was about to mention his singing but stopped herself. If she let on that she could hear him, he might stop, and that was the last thing she wanted.
It took him a moment, but he eventually gave his head a slow shake. ‘Impressive. You’re spot-on.’
‘When did you come to Australia?’
‘I was twelve.’
Free tipped her head to the side. ‘Really? That’s weird. I’d have thought your accent would have been cemented by then, but it’s barely detectable.’
Finn returned to stirring the curry. ‘I made a conscious effort to lose my accent.’
‘Why? Girls go nuts for an Irish accent!’
He choked on a laugh. ‘Is that so! Well, I copped it, big time, whenever people realised I was Irish.’ He poked at the rice in another pot. ‘My first day of school in Australia, the teacher asked a maths question. Sixty-six and two-thirds times zero-point-five. I didn’t want to be the stereotypical dumb Irishman, so I put my hand up. I figured I could show the other kids right from day dot that I was a smart guy, good at maths. She called on me. So, what’d I say? “Tirty-tree and a turd, Miss”.’
She could just see it. Free couldn’t help a burst of laughter. ‘Oh no.’
‘The other kids were rolling in the aisles,’ he said. ‘I never lived it down. From that day on, it was Paddy this and Mick that and “Talk, Finn, do the accent”, and “Hey, Finn, how do you sink an Irish submarine?”’
‘How?’ Free interrupted.
He stopped prodding the rice and turned to face her, his eyebrows tugged down. She waited.
‘Knock on the hatch.’
Free thought about it for a moment, and then chuckled. ‘Yeah, that’s quite funny.’
Finn broke into a grin. ‘Somehow it doesn’t seem quite so bad, coming from you. Maybe I was being oversensitive.’
‘No, I get it. It’s hard when you get stuck with a particular identity you can’t shake.’ Despite Finn’s big, strong body and his air of calm capability, he suddenly seemed a little vulnerable. She would have liked to take him into her arms. He came closer, standing across the bench from Free so he could observe her face. Her heart rate switched into high gear again.
‘Is that the voice of experience speaking?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I suppose so. My eldest sister, Beth, she thinks I’m a ditz.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, I’m a bit forgetful. I get caught up in the moment, especially if I’m painting, and lose track of time. It always seems to happen when I’m supposed to be somewhere. And also, I travel. A lot.’
‘How does travelling make you ditzy?’
‘It doesn’t.’ Free tucked some hair behind her ear. ‘Just, sometimes I decide I’m going somewhere – and I just go. I mean, why hang around? There’s no point planning something months in advance, is there?’
‘Not unless you’ve got prior commitments.’
‘Exactly. I mean, why would I need to give people loads of notice if I want to travel somewhere? It’s not like they’re relying on me for anything. It’s not like I’m booked to give a keynote speech, or run a company or whatever.’
Finn made an amused noise as he turned away and picked up the rice pot for draining. ‘It sounds like you and your sister are playing out the classic eldest and youngest roles. You’ve got her pegged as the controlling bossy boots and she’s got you pegged as the flighty, thoughtless baby of the family.’
He’d meant it in jest but Free experienced a little pang of pain. Finn was right. Why did it have to be that way between her and Beth? She wasn’t overreacting, was she? If only Beth would show her a little respect. Free felt obliged to defend herself.
‘Get this. Know what she did last year? My dad had a heart attack while I was in Italy. I was going to fly home but Beth told me it was really minor – no big deal, Dad was fine. She convinced me to stay in Europe. It was only when Willow came home to run the station that I realised how serious it was. Can you imagine if he’d died – how awful it would have been if I’d been overseas at the time? Beth had no right to hide the truth from me.’
Finn was gazing at her with concern and Free discovered she had tears in her eyes. She sniffed and wiped her eyes hastily, trying to laugh.
‘Sorry. I cry way too easily. I’m like a leaky tap.’
‘You wear your heart on your sleeve,’ he said, those warm Kimberley-creek eyes on hers. ‘It’s —’ He stopped himself and turned back to the stove. ‘It’s a good thing.’
‘You do too.’
Finn shot her a faux glare. ‘Me! No, I don’t.’
‘You do so. I can read your face. You’re very genuine.’
‘Nah, that’s just my disarming interview technique.’
‘Well, it’s very convincing.’ Free twiddled a piece of her hair. ‘I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of an interview with you. I’d spill all my crimes before I realised what had hit me!’
‘I wish all the perps were like that.’ Finn took the curry off the stove.
He served the meal and they sat at his spotless rectangular table to eat. Free glanced around for the first time while he fetched cutlery. His place was pleasant and welcoming, with cushions that matched the couch, and minimal mess. He’d hung a photo of his family on the wall and Free scoured it eagerly. Finn was taller than both his parents, and his mother and sister shared kindly round faces framed by bright-red hair. There were more photos on the cabinet. Free loved the laughing faces in all the photos of his family. The Kellys must laugh a lot if every single picture had captured it.
‘You have a cool place,’ she commented. ‘You’ve settled in, huh? Made it your own.’
‘Well, I’m here for at least a couple of years.’
‘Why so long?’ She tasted the curry. ‘Oh wow, this is really good!’
‘Thanks. As for why so long, I like Mount Clair. I feel sorta happy here.’
She smiled. ‘Good! I wouldn’t want to think you were stuck somewhere you didn’t like for a couple of years.’ Free’s eyes wandered back to the photos. ‘What’s your sister’s name?’
‘Aislinn. She went back to Ireland a few years ago – was working and staying with family, but she met a bloke there and got married, so she stayed. She’s having a baby. Next month, as a matter of fact. My mother and Aislinn are close. Mum video-calls with her every day.’
‘Does she visit? Your sister, I mean.’
‘Aislinn and her other half don’t have much money, but Mum and Dad have already been to visit them twice since she moved last year. There’s another visit happening shortly. It’s an expensive habit my parents are developing.’ Finn tried his wine. ‘I’m taking a few days’ leave at the end of the month, heading home to Perth to see Mum and Dad before they go to Ireland.’ He locked his eyes on hers, sending another buzz of excitement through her. Did he even realise he could do that?
‘So you’ve travelled a lot?’ he prompted.
Free was grateful for a point of focus. ‘Yes! I took a gap year across Asia and Europe, then while I was at uni I deferred my course for six months and lived in Melbourne. Then I did eighteen months in America and Canada, working at resorts in the ski seasons, and youth camps in summer. That was a blast. I usually find work when I’m overseas and that funds my stay. I was going to come home but got sidetracked and ended up in the UK for a while. So that was nearly two years away from home, all up. My last trip was only four months, though. It seems harder to make money than it used to be. Maybe I’m getting fussy in my old age about what jobs I’ll do and where I’m willing to sleep.’ She smiled at him. ‘My friend who lives in Pisa, Flavia, she asked me to meet her in New Zealand in May, but I’ve got the contract at the school until July.’
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‘NZ will still be there when your contract’s over, though,’ he said. ‘Plenty of time to visit.’
‘Absolutely,’ she agreed. ‘What about you? Have you travelled much?’
‘Not as much as you, but I’ve seen a bit of Australia. We’ve done some big road trips, including a Grand Final trek to Melbourne a few years back. We’re footy fans. And we went back to visit my parents’ family in Ireland once, but Mum and Dad aren’t exactly loaded, so it’s over eight years since we all did that together.’
‘How old are you now?’ she asked.
‘Twenty-seven.’
‘Same!’ she exclaimed. ‘Well, I’ll be twenty-seven at the end of February.’
‘I was twenty-seven on November twenty-ninth.’
‘How bizarre! Mine is the twenty-ninth too.’ Free calculated. ‘So you’re exactly three months older than me.’
‘You’re a leap baby?’ He was smiling. ‘Of course you are.’
Free frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Your birthday’s just like you. Uncommon,’ he said, his eyes on hers.
Free’s heart skittered out of control but Finn pulled his eyes away and dove back in to his meal.
‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked, willing him to lift those gorgeous eyes again.
He shrugged and passed her the chopped coriander, so she let his odd remark slide.
‘I don’t get a real birthday this year, since it’s not a leap year.’ She speared a piece of eggplant. ‘But I still want to do something fun. I might organise a pub night here in Mount Clair. Keep the twenty-eighth free, okay?’
Finn nodded. ‘Shall do, if possible. I have to do a night shift once or twice a week – go out on patrol.’
‘Why’s that? Because you’re big and strong?’
He spluttered his wine. ‘No! Because I get rostered on like everyone else.’
‘Oh, right. Of course. Police work must be heartbreaking,’ she added, shaking her head. ‘Road accidents and arresting people who’ve made mistakes. God, I’d be in tears all day long.’ Free stirred coriander into her food with her fork. ‘I mean, what do you do if someone’s broken the law but it’s because they were trying to do something good? Like, I was reading about this guy in Tassie the other day, and he’d chained himself up to an old tree in this ancient rainforest. The cops came and used boltcutters and dragged him away and arrested him – and the tree got cut down! It was so awful. I couldn’t believe it. How could they let that happen? I mean, all he was doing was trying to save the tree. I was so mad at those cops.’
