by Sasha Wasley
In bed, in the darkness, Free realised what it must be. The wave of comprehension was so powerful it made her catch her breath. Max even stopped purr-snoring for a moment, alarmed by her gasp.
Of course.
Finn wasn’t rejecting her. Not specifically her. He did like her, just as his face always blatantly showed. But he’d been so wrecked by his ex-girlfriend’s infidelity that he’d lost all his trust in women. He wasn’t ready for love – for dating again. He wasn’t even ready for the night of impulsive passion Free had just offered him. Finn had been too badly burnt.
The gravity of it brought tears to her eyes. The poor guy. His heart had been ravaged – devastated by what that woman did. She got angry at Elyse again. Okay, she didn’t know what had happened in Elyse’s life, and sometimes things went wrong enough to make people stray – but to do it to someone like Finn? Elyse must be a cold person to have knowingly hurt such a beautiful soul. If she could just show Finn that not all women hurt men. Not all women cheated. Some women would cherish his beautiful, innate goodness like it should be cherished, and not hurt him or leave him . . .
Whoa. Where had this come from? All she’d wanted from Finn was for him to admit what she saw in his eyes: that he wanted her too. How had she made the leap from that to suddenly imagining she was the key to his happiness? She’d only just met him. She didn’t know how to heal him or be his happily-ever-after. And Finn truly deserved a woman he could trust.
And yet that vision of being Finn’s one-and-only – of being adored, trusted, and giving Finn happiness – persisted.
A faint sound alerted her. Finn was singing. Free folded her pillow over her exposed ear to muffle the noise, a little alarmed by her thoughts of the past few minutes. But curiosity won. What was he singing this time?
She didn’t know the song, but it was certainly a more mournful tune than she’d heard from him before. It was as though Finn was pouring that sadness deep in his heart out through the melancholy ballad. For a few minutes, it brought those damn tears back to her eyes.
Then it became a comfort and lulled her to sleep.
Thunder woke her at nine in the morning, which was lucky because Free had forgotten to set an alarm. She needed to work on the scoping document for Jay, not to mention create a PowerPoint slide show on gridding for her Year Elevens. As far as possible, she put the thought of Finn out of her head.
She ate cereal as she drafted the scoping document, typing Born and Bred as the proposed title for the tile wall. Thank goodness Jay preferred this theme to Aidan’s horrible River of Life idea. Free could not have worked on that theme. The thought of Aidan brought his tight face and unpleasant proposition back into her mind. Ugh, hopefully he would forget about his threat to ask her on another date.
Max interrupted her work, demanding to be let outside. He did his usual disappearing act for the daylight hours. Weird cat: he liked to snuggle up in the air conditioning during the night but was happy to spend the day outside in the stifling wet-season humidity. He was obviously perfectly adapted to Mount Clair’s climate.
Free was still in her pyjamas when a knock sounded at the front door just before noon. She threw on a kimono and answered it. The hairy-legged biology teacher, Max, was there examining her printer, which was still sitting on the porch table.
‘Max!’
He looked up and gave her a shy smile. ‘Good morning. It’s definitely a Children’s python.’ He indicated his bike, resting against the porch railing. ‘I was passing by and noticed your printer was still outside. I thought you might want me to get the snake out for you.’
‘Oh! Yes, please!’
‘This species is very shy. They like to steer clear of humans but the dam construction work has scared them into the township lately,’ he said.
‘That bloody dam.’ Free sighed.
‘There’s an info night coming up about its impact on the local wildlife,’ he told her. ‘You might like to go.’
‘Yeah, I saw that in my emails. Are you anti-dam, Max?’ she asked, but he was poking at the printer, completely focused on the snake.
‘It was probably chasing a gecko or a frog and followed it into the cartridge holder. It’s wedged in there pretty tightly, but I should be able to ease it out.’
‘Please do!’ she said.
Max went to his bike and unzipped a strapped-on carry pack to pull out a rectangle of fabric.
‘What’s that?’ Free asked.
‘It’s my snake bag.’
She goggled. ‘You keep that on your bike?’
‘I like to take one everywhere. You just never know when you might need a snake bag.’
He had to dismantle the printer slightly to extract the little python. Max showed it to her once it was out, explaining the markings and its anatomical structure. It was quite cute now she knew it wasn’t dangerous.
‘This one’s a bit worse for wear after being stuck in the printer for a couple of weeks,’ he said, his thick eyebrows tugging down in concern as he inspected the reptile. ‘Dehydrated and a little malnourished. I might take it down to Kev.’
‘Kev?’
‘He’s got Reptile Rescue. You know it? On Flametree Avenue?’
‘I can’t say I’ve noticed it before.’
‘Well, Kev’s a true expert. They’re endangered, you see, these pythons. Since they’ve been scared off the riverbed, they’re getting killed on the roads more. But Kev’ll rehabilitate this little guy for a couple of weeks before releasing him, to give him the best chance.’
‘That’s awesome. And you’ll take it over to the rescue place for me?’
‘Yes, it’s no trouble.’
Finn’s front door opened and he stepped out onto the porch in his uniform. Free’s heart jumped from first to fifth gear and her mind raced with all those confusing thoughts from the night before.
‘Good morning,’ he said, noticing them.
‘Hi, Finn. Look what Max has just done! He’s liberated the python from the printer. Or the printer from the python. Not sure which.’ She stopped rambling and giggled weakly.
Max held the snake up to show Finn, who leaned over the divider railing to take a closer look.
‘He’s a good-looking little bloke. Not venomous, I’m guessing?’
‘Not at all.’ Max inspected the python’s scales. ‘And quite young, I’d say, judging from the colour of his markings.’
‘Max is taking it to a local reptile carer,’ she told Finn. ‘Hopefully, they can make him nice and fat and healthy again before he’s released.’
Finn smiled and then nodded at Max in a friendly manner. ‘Well, you have a good day. I’m off to work.’
They called out their goodbyes and Free watched as Finn departed with his wall of self-protection intact. Max stuck around for a few more minutes, explaining the habitat, diet and hunting habits of Children’s pythons in painstaking detail. At last Free pointed out that she still needed to get dressed and Max left her alone, waving as he rode off on his bike with a bag full of snake.
Jay was delighted with Free’s work on the scoping document.
‘Free, this is fantastic,’ she said, scrolling through it on-screen. ‘The title is great. The examples you’ve drawn up of how some of the tiles might look – awesome. And putting in comparable projects around the world? What a stroke of genius. It’ll blow the committee’s mind to think Mount Clair could be like New York City! I’m just going to beef up the learning outcomes section a little, including some values-based benefits. Promoting harmony, building multicultural awareness, creating a sense of shared journeys and togetherness, giving voices to marginalised groups . . .’
‘Ooh!’ Free gazed at Jay with admiration. ‘You’ve got all the best words.’
‘You’ve done a brilliant job to get it this far. Aidan, do you want to take a look?’
He barely glanced up from the slide show he was creating. Free could see him typing a convoluted explanation of minimalism. ‘No, I trust you,’ he said.
>
Jay shot Free a sidewards look. ‘No worries. I’ll finish this up and show it to the principal during lunch. I might even be able to drop it off to the committee today. They said they’d only need a week or so to consider any concepts. We all have to sign it before it’s submitted, so don’t go home without ducking your head in the door this arvo, okay?’
Free nodded and Aidan grunted something like acknowledgement. The bell rang a minute later, so Free went to the classroom to meet her Year Elevens. She’d brought her new paints in to show them, and jumped straight into it. Jay joined them just as the students began to experiment with the oils on their own canvases.
‘Wow, these are so much better,’ Tia said when Free passed by her desk.
Free stopped to watch the girl run the brush back and forth along the canvas to create a grey undercoat, and Jay came to stand beside them.
‘The brushes are better too,’ said Tia. She looked up and saw Jay. ‘Can we get some of Miss Paterson’s paints and brushes, Ms Lincoln?’
Jay came closer, inspecting the materials Free had brought in. ‘Are these your personal supplies?’ she asked Free.
‘Yes. I wanted the kids to see how the quality can vary from brand to brand.’
‘Only the best for Miss Patz’s class,’ Cameron put in with his big grin.
Jay smiled at him. ‘Well, we use student quality, whereas Miss Paterson uses professional artists’ quality.’
‘Is there a big price difference?’ Tia asked.
‘There is,’ said Jay.
The invoice was still in the parcel in which Free had brought her paints, so she pulled it out to show them. Jay paused over it, eyebrows pulling together above her dark eyes.
‘Hmm. That’s very cost-effective, for professional-quality paints. We pay almost as much for student quality through our supplier. And fixed-price shipping,’ she added, noticing the line at the bottom of the invoice. ‘Bostons. I might have to investigate switching suppliers.’
‘They’re the best,’ said Free. ‘It’s all online, no paper catalogues. Once you get through the wholesale purchaser registration, it’s so easy. You just shop and pay with credit card or PayPal. They ship within forty-eight hours and they’ve never once stuffed up my order. And they send me freebies because I spend a lot with them!’ She winked.
Jay’s face fell. ‘Online payment? Bugger. They probably won’t take cheques, will they? The school uses a purchase order and cheque system.’
Free was appalled at the thought of such an outdated purchasing system but tried to conceal it. ‘Yeah, I don’t think Bostons will take cheques. It says credit card or Paypal only on the site – but maybe they’d be willing to work something out, seeing as it’s a school. Perhaps register as a wholesale buyer and put a note on the form asking if they will consider it?’
‘What does wholesale mean?’ Cameron asked.
‘When you’re registered as a business or organisation, you can access lower prices,’ Jay explained. ‘The idea is that you buy in bulk – wholesale – and then when you sell them, you make a profit by charging more. You charge a retail price.’
‘And you count as a wholesale buyer?’ Cameron asked Free.
‘Because I’m an artist selling goods and services, I’ve got an ABN – an Australian Business Number,’ said Free. ‘Schools have them too.’
‘Can’t Miss Patz sell stuff she orders from Bostons to the school then?’ Cameron suggested. ‘She might be willing to take cheques.’
Free laughed but Jay eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Would you do that for us?’
Free considered. ‘Why not? If you let me know what you want, I’ll order it and then you can reimburse me with a cheque.’
‘Great!’ Jay scribbled a note on her clipboard. ‘I’ll get the office to set you up as a supplier. Charge the shipping to us and you could even put a little margin on for your trouble.’
‘No way,’ said Free. ‘I wouldn’t add anything on.’
Jay tipped her head. ‘You should add in a percentage. The costs seem low enough through Bostons that it won’t much affect our overall spend, even if you charge a distributor fee. Can you spare these paints, Free, if we were to buy them off you? These oils? I’d like to keep them for the kids to use now.’
‘Oh!’ Free thought it over. ‘Yeah, I probably can. I can reorder some for me. I don’t think I’m desperately low yet.’
‘Lovely. You can put an order for the school through at the same time.’ Jay took the invoice out of Free’s hand. ‘I’ll get a purchase order made up for this one so we can raise a cheque. You’ll need to give us an invoice.’ She moved away to see what some of the rowdier students were doing on the other side of the classroom.
‘You’re a tycoon, Miss Patz,’ Cameron told her. ‘Except you totally should have added a cut for yourself.’
‘Get on with your work,’ she told him with a grin.
Free did the rounds, stopping to watch them all work for a few minutes. Seeing Tia’s dark head bent over her canvas, Free was struck with a sense of recognition. Tia was so far inside her work, she’d lost all sense of where she was. Beside her, Cameron fidgeted, chatted with his classmates, and checked on Tia’s progress every couple of minutes, but Tia was deeply immersed in that soft grey undercoat. That was how Free painted, too – losing all sense of time, the world fading to invisibility. The buzzer went off, indicating it was clean-up time, and Tia looked up in shock before an expression of disappointment crossed her face. She dropped her paintbrush reluctantly into a jar of turpentine reluctantly and caught Free’s eye.
Free nodded at her canvas. ‘Sfumato,’ she said with a smile.
Tia returned the smile. ‘I wish I could take it home to work on it, but Mum would freak out.’
‘The smell?’
‘The mess, the smell, everything.’
Free could sympathise. Her father and sisters were forever making comments about her paints. ‘Hey, I have a place to paint. You’re welcome to come around, if you like.’
Tia’s eyes lit up but, a moment later, doubt crossed her face.
‘Me too?’ Cameron asked.
‘Of course,’ said Free. ‘Anyone who needs a place to paint can come to mine. 17A Marlu Street.’
Cameron looked at Tia. ‘Cool! When?’
Free thought about it. ‘Anytime, really. After school or on weekends. If I’m not there, you’re out of luck, but if I’m there, you can come in and paint. BYO easel, canvas and materials. I’ve got plenty of jars, turps, brushes and stuff. Just don’t come too early on weekends,’ she added. ‘I sleep in until at least nine.’
‘Hell yeah. Me too,’ Cameron said.
Tia was still watching Free, hope bright in her eyes. Why did she look so torn? After they’d cleaned up and the bell went, she found out. She overheard Cameron trying to talk Tia into going to her unit to paint on the weekend. The quiet girl was noncommittal. Tia went to her next class and Cameron heaved a sigh, looking at Free.
‘Don’t you think she’ll come?’
He grimaced. ‘Dunno, Miss.’
‘Why not? I thought she wanted a space to paint.’
‘Too shy, I reckon.’
‘Ohh.’ Free’s heart twinged for poor Tia, with that crippling shyness. ‘Do me a favour, Cameron. Tell her I’m expecting her on Saturday.’
His colour deepened. ‘Uh . . .’
‘Oh – don’t worry if it’s a big deal.’
‘No, it’s okay. I can do it.’
He departed and Free was reminded of why she’d been glad when she finished high school. That complex emotional interplay, secrets, mean people and mysteries . . . University was infinitely better. There, she’d met people she could relate to – people with more transparency. Her mind wandered to Finn. Again.
‘Hey, when you place the school’s order with Bostons, could you get some stuff for me?’ Jay said, appearing from the storeroom. ‘I need a few things for my home studio, too – spatulas, sponges, impasto. I’ll put them on my
shopping list, but make sure you order them separately so the school doesn’t get invoiced for my personal stuff.’
‘Why don’t you just create your own account?’ Free asked. ‘You’d have an ABN as an artist, wouldn’t you?’
‘Never bothered with that, and I hate online shopping. I’d much rather get you to do it for me, if you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not.’
Free went for lunch – another crappy lunch of crackers and an apple – and spent the afternoon preparing for her next lesson. After school, Jay printed the amended Born and Bred scoping document and they both signed it.
‘The principal thought it was excellent too,’ Jay said, fishing in her stationery drawer for a document wallet. ‘Hopefully, Aidan hasn’t forgotten to stick his head in the door. If he signs it now, I can drop it into the shire office on my way home.’
But Aidan didn’t appear, and when Free finally checked the car park, she found his car was gone.
‘Bloody hell.’ Jay’s eyes flashed with anger when Free returned and broke the news. ‘Tomorrow and Wednesday are days off for him, too – so I won’t be able to get this into the shire office until at least Thursday. Son of a bitch.’
Free was a little startled by Jay’s reaction and, seeing this, Jay sighed.
‘Sorry. I just reckon this is a dick move on Aidan’s part.’
‘I’m sure he’ll feel really bad as soon as he realises,’ Free said.
Jay studied her face. ‘Sometimes I’m not sure whether you’re highly diplomatic or honestly naive, Free!’
Free puzzled over this for a moment, before gasping. ‘You think Aidan did this deliberately? To delay concept approval?’
‘Well, he wanted his little River of Life concept, didn’t he?’ Jay said, collecting her handbag and switching off the art office light.
Free trailed after Jay, turning the idea over in her mind. Would Aidan honestly stoop so low? Would he do something that petty, just to inconvenience Jay – just to get a little revenge because they hadn’t supported his dodgy concept? That kind of thing could cause setbacks in the progress of the tile wall project, so it wasn’t in anyone’s interests, including Aidan’s. She couldn’t quite believe it of him.
