by Sasha Wasley
‘I picked up most of it from the verge collection.’
‘What verge collection?’
Finn laughed. ‘The verge collection that’s been going on for the past fortnight. You didn’t notice? We got a flyer in the mail a week or so ago, too.’
‘I never read the junk mail,’ she said. ‘You can’t have got everything for free. How much did it cost?’
‘I bought some things,’ he admitted. ‘The timber and screws for the hanging rack, the tubs. But everything else was free.’
‘What about that easel?’ She pointed.
‘It was in a box, in one of your tubs. Never been opened.’
Could that be true – that she had another desk easel she didn’t even know about? It was possible. She had so much stuff in her plastic tubs. Well, she had formerly, anyway. Free looked around at all the new furniture again and doubted him. He must have spent more – must be fudging the truth. This stuff looked too good for people to throw away. She met his eye.
‘Finn, where did you really get it all?’
‘God’s honest truth, Free. I picked it up in the kerbside collection. I’ve been collecting it all week, hiding it at my place, waiting for today so I could set it up while you were at work. What – do you reckon I’ve been out robbing furniture stores?’ He pointed at the brackets. ‘They were outside the stockfeed shop. They used to hold worm treatments for horses. That’s what the bloke told me when I asked if I could take them. The two trestle tables are from the Girl Guide hall. They got a lotto grant to replace their old ones. The magnifying work light was from Briggsy. Kate gave him a better one for Christmas. And the chairs and stools were from all over town.’
She scanned the room again.
‘I didn’t throw anything of yours away,’ Finn added. ‘The tubs and boxes are all in the cupboard there. The tubs are kind of broken, though.’
‘I know.’
‘I thought it would be easier for you to work with the kids like this.’ Finn sounded uncertain now. ‘There’s room for everyone to have their own desk space and chair. You won’t need to use the wobbly card table any more. But there’s still lots of room for you, and I made sure your easel is positioned so you’ll get natural light through the window. I didn’t throw anything away, I swear, Free. I just organised it for you. Are you . . .’ He paused, studying her face. ‘Are you okay with this?’
She tried not to cry and failed. ‘Why did you do this?’
‘Because you told me about Olly’s set-up and said you wished you had a space like that. I went and checked it out. I’ve been planning this ever since – but I wasn’t sure how to do it without being able to nail stuff to your walls. We’re not supposed to put nails in the walls, so I had to rack my brains to come up with an alternative way to set up shelves and benches, and a place for you to hang your tools and brushes. Then when I came across those freestanding brackets at the stockfeed store, I finally knew how to make it work.’ He dug in his pocket for a tissue and handed it to her. ‘I did it because you said you wanted it.’
Finn waited while she blew her nose, then stepped closer and stroked some hair behind her ear. ‘Free, if you don’t like what I’ve done to your studio, I will put it all back to exactly how it was.’
‘Put it back?’ Free almost choked. ‘No! No, definitely not.’
She broke loose and wiped her eyes so she could marvel at this wonderful work space he’d created for her. Then she wiped them again because they were filling as fast as she could wipe them. She saw herself at the easel, a bunch of students working at the tables, everyone with plenty of room and the equipment all easy to find. She could even put little containers inside the paint tubs to divide up the colours. That would make it easier when she was setting up a palette, and she could see what needed reordering more readily.
The damn tears wouldn’t stop. Finn was still watching her, worry darkening his eyes.
‘It’s perfect,’ she told him. You’re perfect, she added in her head.
Finn’s brow cleared and his smile returned at last.
The Year Elevens’ tiles were dry and looking fantastic, so Free moved them onto the colouring stage. She ran through instructions for underglazing again: a quick cram session on borders and textures. Her students worked hard for the whole session and only three of them declared themselves finished and went to lunch afterwards. The remaining Year Elevens stayed, heads bent over their tiles, working silently through lunch.
When the bell for afternoon classes rang, Free ushered them out. ‘Make sure you eat on the way to class,’ she called. ‘I’ll look after your tiles. Meet back here after school if you want to keep working.’
All but one returned. ‘Petra had to catch the bus out to her farm,’ said Leith. ‘She asked if you would pack up her tile for her, so she can finish it tomorrow.’
‘Gotcha,’ said Free.
She covered Petra’s work and carried it to the storeroom. The kids barely needed her, so deeply focused were they on their work. One by one, they finished and departed until Tia was the final student remaining. The sun dropped low in the sky and the cleaning staff finished work.
‘I think we have to go now, Tia,’ Free said, touching the girl gently on the shoulder.
‘Oh, right.’ Tia stared at her tile and dabbed a little more underglaze onto it. ‘I just don’t feel like I’ve got the colours right.’
‘There’s tomorrow after school. And I think you’ll find that the clear glaze will give it the glossy effect you’re after.’
‘I hope so. I want it to have all those iridescent pearl colours, and it’s hard working with these underglazes. They’re so matte.’
‘You might prefer to try oxides, going forward.’ Free slid Tia’s piece of gyprock off the bench and carried it to the storeroom. ‘In some ways they’re harder to control, but they give you more scope for that beautiful, lit-up glow you’re trying for. I think you’d get a kick out of them.’
‘Do you use them?’
‘I do. I use both. Underglazes when I want a soft, natural effect – they’re great for botanical designs or traditional patterns. And oxides when I want something more startling, or to emphasise form over decoration.’
She emerged from the storeroom, opening her mouth to say goodbye to Tia, but found the girl right in front of her, staring at Free with an anxious expression.
‘I wish you didn’t have to leave,’ Tia said in a rush.
Free was too surprised to reply. Tia shouldered her bag and scurried out of the classroom and Free’s heart twinged. What a beautiful soul Tia had – so private and introverted, and yet so talented and driven. She was incredibly grateful for the amazing bunch of kids she’d been working with. She would miss them when her contract was up. Maybe Jay would let her come back and run a couple of workshops in second semester.
At home, Finn had his front door ajar and the light on, waiting for her. She could see him moving around the kitchen through his screen door. Smells of garlic, ginger and chicken were wafting through the air. Max quacked at her from Finn’s porch and Free didn’t even bother to go home first; she went straight to Finn’s place and, dropping her bag on the bench near the door, met him in the kitchen.
‘Home at last,’ she said, stretching up for a kiss.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Home?’
She caught her breath. ‘I mean, I didn’t mean —’
‘I liked the sound of it.’ His lips curved up in a grin, eyes sparkling, and Free gave a giggle that was part joy and part nerves.
They ate teriyaki chicken together, discussed their workdays and planned their next offroad journey for the coming weekend. Free fed Max, and after dinner they flopped onto the couch to watch television. One of Free’s favourite reality series was starting up again – the new season of a talent program she’d been watching since its inception six years ago. Finn scoffed for the first few minutes, but before long he was immersed in the drama of it as well. She smiled inwardly. Yep, she’d have a viewing buddy fo
r the rest of the season. Legs stretched out before him, Free’s feet in his lap, Finn gazed at the show. He rubbed her feet almost absently. Could he get any more perfect?
‘That guy’s a weak link,’ he said, nodding at the screen. ‘He’ll be out on the next round.’ Finn checked Free’s face. ‘What do you reckon?’
If Free had been the sort to pray, she would have sent up fervent thanks for Finn in that moment.
Free put the final tiles through bisquing. She held her breath along with all the students when she opened the kiln to check the first batch, but every tile except for one had fired perfectly – and that one had only suffered a minor injury. Ethan studied his tile and the piece of rigging that had broken off its sailing ship relief.
‘I think it still works,’ was his verdict, and Free relaxed.
These kids were amazing. So resilient and chilled. She wasn’t sure she would have been that calm if one of her pieces had cracked during firing when she was in Year Eleven.
The next phase was a breeze compared to the underglazing, since the kids had learned how to use an airbrush to apply clear liquid glazing suspension the year before.
‘The dam protest is this Sunday, Miss,’ Jorja called to Free as she helped Ethan sieve the glaze. ‘You coming?’
‘Hell yeah!’ Free called back. ‘What time?’
‘Three, I think. This one is going to be amazing. Sacred Days are definitely coming, and you know the dude from that garden rescue program?’
Free gasped. ‘Backyard Revamp?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Jared Collins. Oh my God. It was so beautiful when he rescued that woman’s backyard – the one with the little boy in a wheelchair. I cried so hard.’
‘He’s a total environmentalist,’ said Jorja. ‘He’s going to be there too.’
Free shook the sieve into the trough and rinsed it. ‘That’s awesome. He’ll get loads of media attention – the right kind.’
‘It’s at three o’clock?’ Cameron checked with Jorja, and she nodded.
‘Did your mum say you could go?’ Tia asked him.
He shrugged, not meeting her eye. Tia kept her gaze locked on Cameron.
‘You coming, Tia?’ Jorja asked.
‘I don’t think so. I don’t think my parents would be okay with it.’
‘You need to stand up for what you believe,’ Cameron told her, and silently, Free cheered him on.
Tia bent her head over her work again, Cameron’s eyes locked on her. Was something deeper going on there? Free watched them. Tia, for all her dedication, could stand to learn that everyone needed to raise their voice sometimes.
‘I’m done,’ Ethan announced, busting in on her thoughts. ‘Does it look even?’
Free checked. ‘Absolutely,’ she told him. ‘Okay, who’s next with the airbrush?’
She supervised the rest of her students through the glazing process and laid out the tiles on racks to dry over the weekend before heading home. She phoned Willow as soon as she got inside the unit.
‘Are you coming to the protest this Sunday?’ she asked as she dropped cat biscuits into Max’s dish.
‘I’m still thinking about it,’ Willow answered. ‘Have you been reading the comments in the group? They’re hinting something big is being planned.’
‘Yeah, it is! Sacred Days and Jared Collins are going to be there!’
‘Yes, I know about that,’ said Willow. ‘I mean something else.’
Hearing a car, Free checked out the window. Finn was being dropped off by a colleague. He went inside his unit.
‘Something else? Like what?’ Free wriggled out of her pants and top and into a light dress, manoeuvring her phone through the straps.
‘I’m not sure. I just got a weird vibe.’
‘Willow, this is what Buildplex wants. They want us to be scared. Intimidation tactics.’
‘Maybe,’ said Willow. ‘I’m just not sure if I’ll go yet.’
‘Hey, I’ve gotta run. Finn just got home. Let me know what you decide, okay?’
‘I will. Talk soon.’
Free grabbed a bottle of wine, locked her door and hopped over the divider rail with Max, going straight inside Finn’s unit.
‘Friday drinks!’ she called, and Finn chuckled from his bedroom.
‘You want to go out?’ he called back.
‘No, let’s stay in. I’ll get you a cider.’
‘Thanks.’
Finn emerged from his room in shorts and a T-shirt, and she handed him his drink with a kiss.
‘Are you working Sunday afternoon?’ she asked. ‘The dam protest is happening and it looks fantastic. Want to come with me?’
He made a face. ‘I’m working. We’re all rostered on, because there’s trouble anticipated.’ Finn watched as she cracked open her wine bottle and fetched a glass, rolling his cider bottle between his hands. ‘How would you feel about not going?’
‘Not going?’ Free stopped mid-pour. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m concerned. I don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘Hurt?’ She clunked the bottle onto the bench and gave him her full attention. ‘What have you heard?’
‘Nothing specific. Just that an unruly element could possibly be going along, and they’ve caused trouble before. Fighting and damage.’
‘You’re going,’ she said. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’
‘I’m going because I’ve been rostered on,’ he said. ‘You’ve got a choice.’
So Finn could go but she couldn’t? Even though she was passionate about the cause? Free finished fixing her drink in silence.
‘Free?’ he said.
‘I’ll stay away from any “unruly elements”,’ she said. ‘Some of my students are going, and I’d like to be there too. A couple of people have said something’s being planned, but why does that necessarily mean something bad? It could be something spectacular. You know – a confetti cannon or a flash mob.’
‘Or a brawl.’ Finn had his eyebrows raised. ‘With tear gas and tasers.’
Free shook her head, her temper firing. ‘Jesus, are we living under some kind of fascist regime? There’s absolutely no need for the cops to get all heavy-handed – just because they don’t want people to stand against the government for what we believe.’
Surprise flickered in Finn’s eyes but he kept his composure. ‘The trouble is, some people have lost sight of the issue. This used to be an environmental issue, but now it seems to be more about bad blood between corporations and people.’
‘Most protesters only care about the river,’ she said. ‘We’re in the majority.’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
Maybe?
‘Honestly,’ Free snapped, ‘I don’t know how you can do it. How can you stand there at the protests, against your own beliefs, ready to arrest protesters while Buildplex and the government destroy a critical natural watercourse?’
Finn drew a sharp breath. ‘That’s not very fair.’
Somewhere inside, she also knew it wasn’t fair. But she had to get those nagging misgivings about his choices out in the open, or she’d never be able to look him in the eye. She had to know who Finn was.
‘You could have asked to be excused from working tomorrow afternoon,’ she said. ‘It looks like you’re on the dam’s side if you stand against the protesters.’
He kept his eyes on her face. ‘Free, I told you before, I’m not on the dam’s side. I’m on the law’s side. It’s my job to make sure people and property don’t get hurt. I can’t ask for a day off because I happen to disagree with the project we’re attending. The decision about whether the dam went ahead wasn’t up to me – it was up to the government. And once the government gave approval —’
‘So if the government gave approval for someone to be executed, would you make sure it happened?’ she cried. ‘If they approved a nuclear bomb test, would you stop people from protesting?’
Finn fell silent.
‘Because what you’
re saying sounds dogmatic,’ she went on. ‘How can you stand up for your beliefs, or even have your own beliefs, if you have to do what the law or the government says?’
He spoke quietly. ‘We live in a society with fair – mostly fair – laws. If someone breaks the law, they should get a hearing before serving a punishment. But none of our justice processes will work if we don’t apprehend people who are breaking laws in the first place. I don’t decide what’s law and what’s not, Free. All I do is try to prevent people from breaking laws, or stop them when they do.’
‘I just don’t know how you can live with integrity, when everything has to be black and white.’
By now, part of Free wished she could take back the whole argument, because she felt like she’d got into a logical tangle. In fact, she half saw Finn’s point. But she’d said it now, and she had to face the fallout. She dropped her gaze away from the hurt and bewilderment in his face. Finn stood up and went outside to sit on the front porch. Max gave her a resentful look and followed. Tears jumped to Free’s eyes. Shit.
She went after him. ‘Finn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so horrible. I’m just frustrated.’
‘With me?’
She hesitated. ‘With the whole thing. The dam, the river. Not enough people are taking it seriously.’
‘Including me, right?’
Tears threatened again. Finn looked up and his eyes softened. He reached for her and Free scrambled thankfully into his arms.
‘Please listen. I am for saving the river,’ he said. ‘But I’m a cop, and that’s important to me, too.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
Finn kissed her hair. ‘All good.’
Max quacked his approval from the porch rail and some of Free’s fears slipped away.
Only a little prickle of uneasiness remained.
Apprehensive about causing another argument, Free didn’t speak to Finn about the protest again. But when he’d left for work after lunch on Sunday, she pulled out a piece of stiff posterboard and painted a placard that unambiguously stated her position: SAVE OUR RIVER. Then she photographed it and posted it on her social media profiles. While she was online, she noticed other protest statements and placards being shared. BUILDPLEX = NO CONSCIENCE! And SMASH THE CORPORATIONS! Another depicted Amanda Hamilton as Ursula the sea witch on machinery tracks. Free experienced a pang of worry. Maybe Finn was right and the protest was going to degenerate?
