True Blue

by Sasha Wasley

  Jorja didn’t say anything in class, but the kids clearly knew what had gone down at the protest. The mood was subdued and there was some quiet muttering about Cameron. No-one asked Free about how she had been apprehended or released. They must all know she was released because she was dating a cop, whereas poor Cameron still mouldered in the lockup. Free forced these thoughts from her mind.

  ‘The first tiles are firing,’ she told Jay in the staffroom at lunch.

  ‘Fantastic!’ said Jay. ‘I’m so happy with what they’ve produced with you, Free. Hey.’ She leaned closer, dropping her voice. ‘Did you see the expression of interest request come through for someone to paint a mural at the primary school in Broome? On the education department tenders site?’

  ‘No. When did it come through?’

  ‘Yesterday. It’s for Term Four. You should go for it. I can write you a letter of support.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Free said, but it felt mechanical and obviously sounded that way too, because Jay frowned at her.

  ‘I heard you got dragged into the cop shop after the protest yesterday. What happened?’

  ‘I got mixed up in the wrong group at the protest. I don’t really want to talk about it, though.’

  Jay made a face. ‘Fair enough. Definitely go for the Broome thing, Free, yeah? I’ll forward you the email. Just don’t mention it to Lord Muck over there.’ Jay nodded towards Aidan, who’d just entered the room. ‘Hi, Aidan,’ she said to him when he approached. ‘Free was just saying the first batch of tiles is firing.’

  He sat down and unpacked a number of arancini balls. ‘Good to hear.’

  ‘We’re well ahead of schedule, which is fantastic.’ Jay gave them both a smile. ‘Well done, guys. It’s going to look great for us that we’ve achieved this so efficiently. YouthArts and the shire will be more likely to want to work with us again on this kind of project, which is excellent for the school.’

  ‘Nice one,’ Max called from his spot further along the table. ‘Looking forward to seeing the wall finished.’

  Free made an effort to engage in the conversation. ‘I’ll get the remaining tiles glazed and fired tomorrow. We should have more than enough to finish the wall. We’ll need bubble wrap for transporting the tiles – lots of it.’

  ‘Yes. And as soon as the shire finishes fixing the tiles to the wall, we’ll get ready for the opening ceremony,’ Jay said. ‘Some of the Jamadji nation kids are wanting to be part of a welcome to country, and one of them had a brainwave – multicultural hors d’oeuvres, including bush tucker.’

  Free nodded. ‘Great idea.’

  ‘Very culturally sensitive,’ Aidan remarked with his superior smile.

  Jay appeared to restrain a retort. ‘We’ll invite all the local dignitaries.’

  ‘Like the shire councillors and the mayor?’ asked Free.

  Jay nodded. ‘Anyone who contributed to the project. The local YouthArts rep. The project committee members. The students’ families. The Chamber of Commerce committee.’

  ‘And the other teachers,’ added Free. ‘And Olly – my gallery friend who showed the kids indigenous art techniques.’

  ‘The dam project management and board should be invited.’ Aidan managed to drop that in so casually that Jay was almost nodding before she fully noticed what he’d said.

  For Free, it was a step too far.

  ‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘What have they got to do with the Born and Bred project?’

  He didn’t even look at her. ‘The dam is regenerating the region – creating jobs and money. Building the local economy. It’s a strategic move to invite them. It might bring more funding the school’s way.’

  ‘That’s not appropriate.’ Free’s heart started to race. Everyone must know about her shameful involvement in yesterday’s protest, but she couldn’t let this slide. ‘I mean, they had nothing to do with the Born and Bred project.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’d be surprised what the dam’s management has done quietly in the background to grease the wheels of this public art project.’

  ‘You mean getting you into the residency?’

  The words fell out before Free could stop them. As soon as she realised what she’d said, her hand flew to her mouth – but it was too late. Jay choked on her tea and Max dropped his phone onto the table. Aidan didn’t speak for a few moments, his pale-blue eyes glacially cold. Then he gave an elaborate shrug.

  ‘I don’t see how it’s any different to inviting the Chamber of Commerce, then. I believe your doctor sister is very influential in the chamber – is that right, Free?’

  Free couldn’t conceal a gasp of horror.

  ‘Now that’s enough.’ Jay had recovered, her tone as authoritative as though she were defusing a fistfight between a couple of Year Eight boys. ‘This is unprofessional and unproductive. I’m in charge of the invitations to the opening, anyway. I don’t want to hear any more slurs or speculations from either of you.’

  Aidan looked completely unconcerned, giving another of those laconic shrugs, but Free’s face was on fire. She stared down at her uneaten lunch for several moments before coming to the conclusion that she had to get away.

  Right now.

  She closed her lunch box and attempted an unobtrusive departure. Outside, Free wandered the noisy school grounds, her dismay growing with every step she took.

  It was true, then. Beth had pulled strings to get her the job at the school. But how could Aidan even know about that? She grew hopeful for a moment – there was no way, surely, that Aidan could know whether Beth had influenced the decision or not. But then, she recalled, he moved in those circles. His mother was close with the Chamber of Commerce. Hell, Amanda Hamilton was close with everyone in high places.

  Free attempted logic. Would Beth honestly go this far? She was protective, Free knew, and didn’t think much of Free’s ability to cope in the world. Her heart dropped. She could absolutely see Beth doing something like this – something well-meaning that would promote Free’s chances of success. Beth would have no idea how devastating it could feel to have a moment of triumph swept away by the realisation that she didn’t get there on her own. This had Beth written all over it. Her always-right, always-capable, always-successful older sister who had connived the artist’s residency for Free through her business connections.

  She couldn’t even cry.

  First Finn, pulling strings to get her out of trouble while he let a vulnerable boy sit in jail. And now Beth, meddling to smooth the path for Free to win a highly competitive contract at the school. Did neither of them think she was capable of achieving or solving anything on her own? Or was this simply how the world ran – on schmoozing, privilege and nepotism?

  She fumbled for her phone. She would call Beth. She had to ask her, straight up. Maybe Aidan was full of shit. Free was pretty sure she’d be able to detect whether Beth was lying. She sat on an empty bench in a quiet corner of the schoolyard and hit Beth’s name on her contact list.

  The call went to voicemail. Free swore under her breath and hung up. She called her sister’s clinic.

  ‘Mount Clair Medical, this is Dani,’ came the bright voice of Beth’s receptionist.

  ‘Hi, Dani, it’s Free.’

  ‘Oh, hey, Free! How are you?’

  ‘Good. Is Beth available?’

  ‘No, sorry. She’s in a consultation. Do you need to see a doctor? Beth’s all booked up, but we’ve got Dr Lavigne available this afternoon, or Dr Shen in the morning.’

  ‘No, it’s okay.’ Free sighed. ‘I just wanted to talk to Beth. Could you ask her to call me?’

  ‘Sure, no problem. See ya, Free.’

  She returned to the art room. To her relief, Aidan had vanished, so she didn’t have to face him again, but Free longed to be at home where she could find some privacy to cry the tears that threatened to burst out at any moment. When the school day was finally at an end, she dashed for her car.

  At home, she didn’t know what to do. Finn didn�
��t appear to be in his unit, so she’d escaped that confrontation for the time being. Free dug some chips out of the pantry and crunched her way through them. Next was ice-cream. She repeatedly checked her phone in case Beth had returned her call.

  Nothing.

  Free scowled. No doubt Beth was busy curing a child of some dreadful disease. Freakin’ perfect Beth and her habit of doing good in the world. Well, this time her good was not so damn good.

  At last, Free went to paint. It was the only thing that could stop her from thinking about Beth and Finn’s actions for more than a few moments at a time. By 9 p.m., her eyes were sore and bleary. She checked her phone. Still nothing from Beth, but Finn had sent her a message.

  Cameron spent a night in the lockup but he’s home now. Can we please talk?

  Free wanted to scream at the thought of Cameron in the lock-up for the night. Dear Lord, what was Finn thinking? Cameron was just a child! His poor mother – how she must have suffered through that long night. She wrote and deleted about six replies, ranging from pleading with Finn to repent, right through to raging at him for arresting Cameron in the first place. None of them made the cut. It was half an hour before she settled on a message to send back.

  I need some time to think. I’ll contact you soon.

  Free showered and climbed into bed, rolling onto her side so she could stare at the dent in the pillow where Finn’s head normally rested. Her heart yearned for him but she couldn’t shake the anger that leapt like a searing blue flame in her gut. Finn had disregarded everything he knew about a vulnerable young boy – sold out his own spirit of kindness and understanding.

  He wasn’t the man she thought she knew.

  As for Beth . . .

  Max curled up against her shoulder blades, purring deeply, and exhaustion crashed through her worries for the first time since Aidan’s spiteful remark. Free closed her eyes.

  Free woke at seven-thirty, dragged herself up and contemplated breakfast. She hadn’t eaten dinner after her junk-food binge the night before, but the whirlpool of stress in her stomach told her food might not be such a good idea this morning. The anger at Beth still flared, but overnight her feelings towards Finn had transformed into deep sorrow. She still loved him, she realised. Even though he’d shown her he was the one thing she couldn’t tolerate – dishonourable.

  And she had no idea what to do about it.

  She dressed and made a cup of tea, prolonging the time she stayed at home. It was going to be a horrible day, facing Beth and Finn after work. During the drive to school, she contemplated what she would say to Beth. She’d never pushed back against her sister before – not properly – and the thought filled her with fear. But she couldn’t let this one slide. Her mind jumped back to when Beth had pretended their father wasn’t seriously ill while Free was in Italy. No. Not cool. No matter how well-meaning Beth was when she made these shitty decisions, it had to stop. Free couldn’t allow this resentment to keep growing inside her – or let Beth continue to be a puppeteer in her life.

  She couldn’t even think about how she would confront Finn. Maybe he wouldn’t understand her reaction.

  Did this mean they were done?

  Oh God – how will I ever get over him?

  She parked and headed straight for the art block. Although it was Aidan’s day off, Free worried that she would see him. If it were Free, she wouldn’t be able to resist coming in to see the results of the tile-firing. There was no way she could look at his stretched, superior face after what they’d said to one another yesterday. But Aidan, thank the saints, was not about. Free went into the wet area to see if Jay had pulled out the students’ tiles yet.

  Jay was there with a number of students from both Year Eleven and Year Ten, who must have dropped in to check out the results of their work. Their tiles were out of the kiln, all laid out on the bench under the bright art-room lights. But something was off. She could hear arguments and accusations flying around. Free pushed forward to get a look at the tiles.

  No. Oh no.

  A number of the tiles were broken. Several others had crazing through the glaze layer – obvious and ugly. Jay lifted her face and saw her.

  ‘We’ve had a less than ideal result.’ Her dark eyes were full of disappointment.

  Free’s skin went hot and then cold. She picked up one of the damaged tiles and examined it closely. She’d never seen anything like it – had never had a result so awful. The tile’s surface was like a dry riverbed, cracked and discoloured. There was no way they could use these for an outdoor public artwork, even if they wanted to. These tiles wouldn’t survive a single Mount Clair wet season.

  ‘What on earth happened?’ Free’s voice wavered. ‘Did the kiln door get opened after I left, or something? Did anyone mess with the settings yesterday?’

  ‘The kiln was supervised all day,’ said Jay. ‘It’s part of our safety procedures. Inga was here.’

  Inga was beyond reproach. The hardworking assistant would never mess with the kiln settings. She always asked if she wasn’t sure – even when it was just about moving a piece of artwork. Free’s thoughts skipped to the glaze she’d ordered and her chest felt constricted.

  ‘I guess the glaze didn’t match the clay like you thought it would,’ Jay said, as though she could read Free’s mind.

  ‘But I researched it,’ Free said. ‘The glaze was the right fit for the clay.’

  ‘What about the underglazes?’ asked Jay. ‘Was it the right fit for those?’

  Oh shit. Had she checked that? She thought she had, but maybe . . .

  Jay saw Free’s doubt and sighed. ‘Well, anyone whose tile got broken will have to remake it. Sorry, guys. We’d better use different glazes next time. I’ll apply to the committee for extra funding. Maybe they will take pity on us. Otherwise, we can do some fundraising.’

  Tia was there, watching Free anxiously.

  ‘I’ll pay for it,’ Free said in a rush. ‘It’s my screw-up. I’ll cover it.’

  Tia opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again. ‘Maybe it wasn’t your fault, Miss Paterson.’ Her voice was barely a murmur.

  ‘It was a poor choice of glaze for the clay,’ Jay told Tia, her face stony.

  ‘I’m afraid it is my fault, Tia,’ Free said, lips trembling.

  ‘But it’s only the Year Tens’ tiles that got broken,’ the girl answered.

  Jay whipped her head around to inspect the tiles again. There was a brief silence. ‘Put your hand up if your tile is one of the damaged ones,’ she said to the group.

  Every Year Ten there lifted a hand. None of the Year Elevens did. Jay’s eyebrows rose and she looked at Free.

  ‘That’s weird,’ she said.

  ‘It is weird,’ said Free. ‘I suppose it might just be a coincidence . . .’

  ‘Maybe it was something to do with the production process,’ said Jay. ‘We’ll have to speak to Aidan.’

  Tia opened her mouth again, but instead of speaking, she looked around the group and slunk quietly away. The bell rang and the students dispersed, but Free and Jay stayed where they were, gazing at the botched tiles.

  ‘I really did think it was the right match.’ Free prayed Jay wouldn’t shout at her.

  Jay heaved a sigh and pushed her glasses up into her curls. ‘I know. Something went wrong, that’s for sure. It’s just so bloody strange that only the Year Tens’ tiles copped it. Aidan didn’t produce very good work with the Year Tens, but I thought they looked structurally sound, more or less. If we’d fired them in different batches, I’d say something went wrong with the kiln, but they were all in together.’

  ‘Should I call Aidan?’ Free asked.

  ‘God, no,’ said Jay. ‘Not after yesterday’s stoush with him. I’ll call him myself. I’ll do it now.’

  Jay went into the art office to make her call and Free waited, stomach churning. The call went on for almost ten minutes before Jay came back, her puzzled frown no less puzzled.

  ‘Well, I don’t have any answers
for you,’ she told Free. ‘Aidan’s coming in to have a look later on, but he blames the glaze you wanted.’

  He would. ‘I’ll go online and do more research,’ said Free. ‘I might try emailing the manufacturer, or maybe I’ll ask in this pottery forum I’m on.’

  Jay pulled off her glasses and sucked on one of the arms. ‘Don’t worry about that, Free. I think I’ll take charge of research and product selection from now on.’ She must have seen Free’s cheeks colour because Jay grimaced. ‘Sorry. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m in charge of this whole project, and I can’t let any more mistakes happen.’

  Free wanted to hide under the nearest table. ‘Okay. I understand. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Maybe you could sort these tiles for me,’ Jay said. ‘Put the intact ones somewhere safe and the broken pieces in a box or something.’

  ‘No worries.’

  Free did as Jay had asked, then sat in an empty classroom to work on lesson plans. The loss of Jay’s trust smarted like a slap. It made sense, in the context of what had happened – and what Aidan had revealed about Free’s fudged selection for the residency. What a gigantic disaster. She would have loved to go home – preferably all the way home to Paterson Downs – to lick her wounds and comfort-snack. Or simply to paint, so she didn’t have to think about this mess. Free sighed and stayed where she was, planning lessons until there wasn’t an ounce of lesson planning left to do. Then, despite Jay’s words, she sneaked in a bit of research on glazes and clays. It made no sense. The products she’d selected should have been good together. She snapped a photo of one of the damaged tiles and emailed the manufacturer to ask if they’d ever seen this problem before.

  The day dragged until it was finally time for her after-school session. Everyone was there, just as usual. Heartened by the resilience of her students, Free took a breath and got started – then Jay turned up. Free lost her train of thought as the head of art came into the room and sat in a corner, opening her laptop. She nodded at Free to indicate she should continue.