by Sasha Wasley
She’d almost made it. Nearly there. Just four more steps and she’d be out in the warm, damp night air —
‘Free!’
Her heart plummeted. It was him. She turned.
‘Hi, Finn. Just on my way out.’
He looked as uncomfortable as she felt. ‘Oh, right. I didn’t even realise you were here till now.’
‘Flying visit.’
Finn hesitated. ‘Sorry about giving you a fright this morning,’ he blurted. ‘My colleague, she switched on the lights before I could stop her.’
Free shuffled her feet and met his eyes swiftly. ‘It’s okay. I need to be less of a forgetful dummy.’ His eyebrows knitted and she glanced towards the door. ‘I’d better get going.’
‘You don’t want to, uh, come join us for a bit? Just hang out with us?’
Free was so outraged she forgot to be embarrassed. ‘Come join you and Phoebe on your date? No, thanks,’ she shot at him.
Finn blinked at her. He opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind. He dropped his eyes to the floor, his lips pressed together, and gave his head a brief shake.
‘Goodnight, Finn,’ she said as coolly as she knew how, and walked away.
Beth saw evidence of tears as soon as Free arrived.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, her voice low with concern. ‘Come inside. What’s happened? Tell me.’ She pulled Free into a hug.
‘Oh, gawd, it’s so stupid, Beth. Seriously. It’s not even worth talking about.’
‘Don’t give me that crap.’ Beth steered Free to the suede couch and sat her down. ‘Wait here.’
She went into the kitchen for a minute and came back carrying a plate heaped high with curry and rice, and a giant glass of wine. She gave them to Free. ‘Eat. And talk.’
‘Get yours first,’ Free gulped.
Beth fetched her own dinner and curled up on the couch opposite. ‘Well?’
At times like this, Free didn’t mind Beth’s bossy ways. She didn’t hesitate to spill the story. Beth listened, silent except for the odd sympathetic noise, until Free had finished.
‘Oh, Free. That jerk. So Finn is the mystery guy you told me about a couple of weeks back?’
Free confessed he was.
Beth shook her head. ‘I thought it might have been him. It sounds like Finn’s a total mess. I agree with you – he’d be screwed up from that bad relationship with his ex. He’s probably scared of meeting a girl he might really like.’
Free forgot her dinner, staring at Beth. ‘You think?’
‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should give him another chance if he changes his mind. Like I said, he’s a mess. He’s got warning signs all over him.’ Beth put her plate down on the glass coffee table and fixed Free with a serious gaze. ‘What you’ve just described – the mixed signals – those are not the actions of a guy you can trust. He’s not in a good place, by the sound of it. Avoid. Danger, danger, and not in a sexy way.’
‘I live next door to him,’ Free reminded her, taking a gulp of wine. ‘Difficult to avoid.’
‘Well, you need to have strength, then, Free. Look, I saw how he looked at you at the wedding. It’s perfectly clear he’s attracted to you. But he will just continue to mess with you. It’s his MO – his pattern. Deep down, he’s still angry over the ex’s betrayal. If you let him in, he’ll play you. He’s looking to punish someone. He might even seek revenge on his ex by cheating on you. Or he wouldn’t be able to trust you, so he’d be all over you, always wanting to know who you’re with and what you’re doing.’
Logically, Beth’s words made sense, but Free struggled to visualise Finn as a bitter, brooding cad who would string her along and cheat on her.
‘He’s not interested, anyway,’ she said. ‘You got that bit wrong.’
Beth’s smooth forehead creased in the lamplight. ‘Are you sure?’
Free nodded. ‘I gave him plenty of opportunities. He never bit, not once. It’s just so much worse now because I was telling myself it was all because his trust had been damaged – but it turned out he was interested in another girl altogether, and that’s why he didn’t want to know about me.’
‘Well, then he’s thick as well as screwy,’ Beth declared. ‘And he’d better not come near my baby sister because I’ve got access to some highly toxic pharmaceutical substances.’
Free felt loved and smiled gratefully. Beth would always look out for her. Unexpectedly, the memory of that discussion about how Aidan Hamilton got his residency contract surfaced. How far would Beth go to look out for her? Far enough to influence a decision about an artist residency at the local school?
‘He’s sneaky.’ Beth broke into her thoughts. ‘I thought Finn seemed genuine, too. When you wouldn’t tell me his name last week, I thought it could be him, or maybe someone from work. That other resident artist.’
Free wrinkled her nose. ‘Ew. No way. Aidan’s a creep. And he’s dodgy as. His mum runs the dam construction company, did you know? And he was pushing to make the tile wall a monument to the project. River of Life. Can you believe that? That dam’s wrecking the river.’ She sniffed, wiped her eyes and drank her wine. ‘Oh, yeah, I was going to tell you – there’s an information night coming up soon about the threat to wildlife from the dam. Do you want to come with me?’
‘You’re still involved in the anti-dam movement?’ Beth’s eyebrows crept upwards.
‘Well, yeah. It’s important. What?’ Free added when she caught Beth’s bemused expression.
‘I’m impressed, that’s all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you commit to a cause like this before.’
‘I’ve been involved in other causes.’
‘Yes, you told me about that protest you went to in the US but you were just in the right place at the right time and happened to agree with the protest, right? This is different. You’re educating yourself, taking a stand, attending events and even inviting others to get involved.’ Beth studied Free as though she had presented with a particularly intriguing medical condition. ‘Maybe you’re changing.’
Free wiggled her hair tie loose and rubbed her hands through her hair. Could Beth be any more patronising? With an effort, she refrained from responding and ate her curry.
After their meal, they settled in to watch a movie on Beth’s huge flat-screen. The wine made Free sleepy and she woke in the middle of the night to find that Beth had draped a light blanket over her on the couch and gone to bed. Free rolled over and spotted her phone where it sat blinking with low charge on the coffee table. She needed to go home. Max would be wondering when he could get inside to have his dinner and go to bed. But it was so comfy on Beth’s couch . . .
Free sighed and pushed back the blanket. She couldn’t just leave her poor little cat outside without an evening meal. Free groped for her bag and let herself out of Beth’s place, locking the door behind her. She drove home in the quiet 2 a.m. darkness. Max was nowhere to be found when she got home. All her shaking of the cat biscuits and calling were in vain. She got settled in bed but, just as she was drifting off, heard a piteous cracked meowing from the front porch. Free jumped up and let the tabby cat inside.
‘Where were you, Max?’ she whispered. ‘You must be starving.’
Max answered by rubbing against her legs. He was really filling out these days, what with getting two square meals a day, plus plenty of love and care. Free gave him some food and Max nibbled at it. When the house was still and dark once more, he finally decided he was ready for sleep, and jumped up to join her on the bed. She reached down and rubbed his head.
All was quiet from the house next door. That’s good, Free decided. She had to get on with having inner strength and holding her head high. She had to enjoy being independent, living with her cat, teaching an awesome bunch of kids and working on a major public art project.
Free was woken at ten by Cameron and Tia, who’d arrived for their Saturday morning painting session. Free enjoyed their company while she worked on her own landscape. L
ater in the morning they were joined by two more of her students – Ethan and Jorja. After sharing lunch with her students – boiled spaghetti, stirred through with broccoli and cheese – Free remembered she was supposed to be showing the Bostons paints to Olly.
‘Oh, crap,’ she cried, jumping up. ‘Are you kids okay here for half an hour? I need to go catch Olly at the gallery.’
‘We’ll leave,’ Tia said immediately, getting to her feet.
‘There’s no need to go, if you’re not ready,’ Free assured her. ‘You guys can stay as long as you like.’
The students were happy with that. ‘We won’t trash your place, Miss Patz, promise,’ Cameron said with a grin. ‘No wild parties.’
Free scrambled into her car and made a mad dash for the gallery.
‘I’m so sorry, Olly!’ she said when she arrived in his shop, sweating and puffing.
He just laughed. ‘It’s okay, we’re open till three.’
‘Jeez, really? I almost busted an artery trying to get here.’
The gallery was quiet so they went into the workshop, where Free showed Olly her paints and equipment using a little spare canvas board. He was as impressed as Jay had been. Free couldn’t wait to demonstrate how easy it was to use the Bostons system. She logged in to the web store on Olly’s desktop computer and spent some time showing him the search and ordering processes. He watched but the look on his face had become sceptical.
‘Yeah, okay, okay, Free. I could do it,’ he said at last. ‘But I’ll bloody hate doing it. That’s why I want you to do it for me. Check my gear, make the order and charge me for the stuff and your labour. What d’you reckon? How long would it take you to check the supplies and make an order for us?’
‘Maybe half an hour, an hour?’ Free hazarded.
‘Great. Go for it.’
She stared. ‘Right now?’
‘You’re not busy, are ya?’
‘Well, no, but . . .’
‘What’s your percentage for service?’
‘I couldn’t charge you, Olly.’
‘Like fun you couldn’t!’ He eyed her. ‘What’s fair for a job like that? Fifteen per cent on sales? Eighteen?’
‘No, Olly . . .’
He gave a sharp nod. ‘Twenty it is. You drive a hard bargain.’ She opened her mouth. ‘Don’t argue,’ he warned. ‘Or I’ll have to make it thirty. Now get to work.’
Olly went out the front to chat to the tourists browsing the gallery. Free wandered along the shelves of his beautiful workshop. She noted any empty or near-empty paints, solvents and mixers, and counted his paintbrushes. Whenever she spotted a damaged one, she put it aside and marked down the size.
‘This is adding up,’ she called when the tourists left with a couple of painting purchases. ‘I’ve just entered the order and it’s almost four hundred.’
‘That’s not bad,’ he said, putting his head around the door. ‘You haven’t scared me yet. I need some canvases and paper, too.’
They discussed types and sizes and Free completed the ordering process. ‘Six hundred and thirty-seven dollars.’ She checked Olly’s face, a little apprehensive.
He considered. ‘So that makes it about eight hundred, with your percentage. Seems reasonable. That’s about what I’d normally spend and the quality’s bloody topnotch. Plus I reckon you’ve done a better job noticing what’s low or missing than I would’ve.’ Olly stuck out his hand with a smile. ‘Nice doing business with you, Free.’
She laughed with delight and shook hands. Free finished up the order, opting for fourteen-day payment terms, and Olly wrote a cheque to Free then and there. She left, promising to deliver his materials as soon as they arrived. While she drove, her spirits danced at the thought that she’d helped Olly. And all while ordering art supplies, which was practically her favourite thing in the world. Wow. Could she do this sort of thing to make a living?
Ethan and Jorja had left by the time she got home, but Tia was still immersed in her work. The girl’s landscape was looking amazing. Free raved about it and asked Cameron what the heck he’d been doing all day if he hadn’t even touched his painting. He grinned sheepishly and muttered that he couldn’t just leave Tia on her own.
‘My clouds look stupid,’ Tia sighed.
Free inspected them and made a couple of suggestions, assuring her that clouds were one of the hardest things to paint. Tia murmured something while Free tidied up the mess Jorja and Ethan had left. Cameron agreed, looking at Free for a response.
‘What was that?’ asked Free.
‘Tia reckons you should do private art classes. You’re a really good teacher, Miss Patz.’
‘Thanks.’ Free chuckled. Everyone had career ideas for her, it seemed.
‘Seriously,’ said Tia, going pink. ‘You’re so good at explaining things. Ms Lincoln, she sometimes takes a brush and works on your painting to show you a technique or whatever. I don’t like it when someone else paints on my painting. But you never do that.’
Free tried to hide her horror. ‘Oh, yeah, I couldn’t do that. I’d freak if someone did it to me, too.’
‘So, you should give classes. Run, like, a painting group where you help people.’
‘Isn’t that what we’re doing here?’
‘Yeah, but you could make a buck out of it, Miss Patz,’ Cameron said. ‘I mean, don’t charge us, ’cause we’re your students already.’ He shot her a grin. ‘But you could charge other people.’
Free smiled. ‘It would be fun. Maybe I’ll think about it after my contract’s finished at the school.’
‘I wish you could stay on as our teacher,’ Tia said unexpectedly, and hid her face, pretending to closely examine her painting.
Free was touched. ‘I do too,’ she said. ‘But when I’m finished, I’ll still drop in at school from time to time to see how you’re going.’
The kids finally set off at four-thirty, leaving Free alone with her thoughts. The thoughts weren’t good ones. Finn popped straight back to the forefront of her mind – specifically, Finn and Phoebe. She hadn’t heard or seen him all day and that was a good thing. She didn’t want to see him. Not now . . . maybe not ever. Was he out with Phoebe right now? Holding hands – kissing? Maybe they’d even gone to bed. Oh good Lord, what if he was next door in bed with Phoebe at this very moment? A call came in and she seized her phone gratefully. Willow’s name was on the screen.
‘Hi, Will!’ Free tried to sound positive. ‘How’s married life?’
‘Much the same as unmarried life, except I seem to get asked that question a lot more,’ Willow said.
‘How’s Tom?’
‘He’s good. He’s currently transferring the entire contents of Dad’s video collection to digital storage so we can finally get rid of the VHS.’
Free giggled. ‘Lucky Tom. Welcome to the Paterson clan.’
Willow chuckled in agreement. ‘And what about you? How’s your week been?’
‘Good,’ Free lied.
‘That’s great. You seem to be enjoying the contract.’
‘Yes, it’s awesome.’
‘Are you still okay to come and stay with Dad for the long weekend?’
Free had to think about it for a moment before she remembered what she’d promised. ‘Oh, yes! Of course.’ Willow’s honeymoon in Bali.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind coming home for the whole weekend? Even on your birthday?’
‘Of course not!’ Free had already abandoned her idea for a pub catch-up on her birthday. I mean, what if I bump into Finn and Phoebe being all lovey-dovey while I’m there trying to celebrate my birthday? She was better off at home with Dad.
‘Thanks.’ Willow sounded relieved. ‘We fly out on Friday morning and get home Wednesday afternoon, so if you’re here on the weekend, Dad’ll only be on his own Monday and Tuesday nights.’
Free thought about it. ‘Well, actually, I can probably stay Monday night too, since it’s a public holiday. I’m not technically needed until my after-school session
on Tuesday. I usually work all Tuesday, but I’ll ask Jay if I can just come for the afternoon session and then switch my full day to Wednesday.’
‘Oh, that’d be great,’ said Willow. ‘Then Dad’s only got one night on his own. He insists he’s fine and I believe him, but still . . .’
‘Yeah, I get it,’ said Free. ‘I’ll sort it out so I can be there till Tuesday morning. Where are you staying in Bali?’
‘Nusa Dua,’ said Willow.
‘Oh, it’s gorgeous there,’ Free exclaimed. ‘The beach is heavenly. Are you going on any tours?’
‘Yes, some kind of volcano and temple tour, I think.’
Free’s wanderlust reared up. ‘Awesome. I’m so jealous.’
‘Tom wants us to get tattoos,’ Willow said. ‘I said no chance.’
Free burst out laughing. ‘Maybe the Patersons cattle brand for you, huh?’
‘Now there’s a thought.’
They laughed together over tattoo ideas for Willow and when the call ended, Free felt brighter . . . until Finn popped back into her head. She sighed. Why couldn’t she just forget about him?
There was nothing else for it. She’d have to paint until bedtime.
Notification that the Born and Bred tile wall concept had been approved arrived in Jay’s inbox on Monday. Free’s class was as thrilled as she was, and chattered excitedly about their ideas for the tiles. Free stayed back on Monday afternoon to take stock of all the ceramics materials, and Jay and Aidan put their heads in to observe her toils before going home.
‘It’s a pretty good stock of glazes,’ Aidan remarked. ‘Brand notwithstanding.’
Free summoned her inner fortitude. ‘I’m a bit worried about them,’ she said to Jay. ‘This clear glaze, I’m not sure it’s a good fit for the clay you’ve selected.’
Jay checked Free’s face. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know, crazing.’ Jay still looked blank, so Free explained. ‘Fine cracking in the glaze.’
Jay laughed. ‘I know what crazing is. But why do you think we might have a problem with it?’
