Mornings were always the hardest. At night came the promise of sleep and a reprieve from all the thinking. Mornings meant she woke to face another day alone. Another day of making decisions alone. Another day of preparing dinner for three, instead of four.
Outside, laughing kookaburras greeted each other, reminding her where she was. She touched the empty place beside her and for a split second grief threatened to pull her back under. She picked up her phone. It wasn’t quite six o’clock. She had hoped to sleep until at least seven. Fletcher was still breathing heavily, but the rustling of covers indicated Mietta was waking. A mussed up blonde head of curls emerged from the sleeping bag.
‘Good morning, sunshine.’ It was what Dan had always said every morning and Mietta seemed to like how Isabelle kept up the simple tradition. ‘Did you sleep okay?’
Mietta nodded, wiping away the sleep from her eyes. ‘What was that noise before?’
‘Kookaburras.’
Mietta’s eyes sparkled with delight and anticipation. ‘Do you think we’ll see kangaroos and koalas if we live here?’
‘I’m sure we will. Come on, let’s get you showered and dressed, then you can have breakfast.’
Isabelle left a note for Fletcher and headed out the door to the toilet block with Mietta. Her breath caught. It had been dark when they’d arrived and she hadn’t realised the caravan park was positioned at the base of an enormous mountain. After driving through endless acres of flat paddocks practically the whole way from Adelaide, the mountain came as a surprise. She’d googled Stony Creek upon hearing about the Peppercorn Project. It lay in the shadow of Mount Remarkable as part of the Southern Flinders Ranges, but Isabelle hadn’t expected the mountain to be so massive. Or so magnificent. She smiled. Mount Remarkable. An apt name.
‘Wow,’ Mietta exclaimed, voicing Isabelle’s thoughts. ‘Do you think we could climb to the top?’
Isabelle laughed. ‘I doubt it, darling, but I’m sure there’s a road and probably a lookout.’
‘No road, but there’s a walking track,’ a voice answered.
Isabelle spun around. She hadn’t anticipated seeing anyone else awake and was startled by how quietly the woman had snuck up on her.
‘G’day, love, I’m Pat Wallace. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya! You got in late last night. Thought you’d changed your minds about coming.’
‘Oh, good morning.’ Isabelle stuck out her hand. The older woman squeezed her fingers tightly and Isabelle felt dry skin and callouses. ‘I’m Isabelle Cassidy. And this is my daughter, Mietta.’
Pat nodded. ‘Isabelle. Mietta. Pretty names for pretty girls. How old are you, sweetheart?’ she asked, bending over to peer at Mietta through her thick glasses.
‘Six,’ Mietta replied shyly, before stepping back and tucking herself behind Isabelle’s hip.
‘My son Fletcher is still asleep. He’s nearly thirteen.’
‘Nearly a teenager, eh? You must have been a child bride.’
Mrs Wallace’s curious gaze darted to her left hand. Isabelle was glad she still wore her wedding ring.
‘I was eighteen when I had Fletcher. I’ll be thirty-one at the end of the year.’ Why am I telling this to a complete stranger? A thought occurred to Isabelle. It might be worth being polite to the old woman. ‘Are you on the interviewing panel?’
‘Nah, love. Rachel King has that sorted. I don’t care who moves into town as long as they’re good people. It’s a great place to live and raise your kids, and I don’t want anyone changing that.’
Isabelle kept quiet, uncertain how to answer.
‘I heard you ask ya mum about Mount Remarkable,’ Mrs Wallace said, looking at Mietta again. ‘The road takes you as far as the war memorial. From there you’ll have to walk. It’s about six K to the top but when you get there you’ll see the best views of the whole district. You’ll see plenty of euros, and the odd emu or two, if you’re lucky. And be sure to watch out for snakes.’
‘Euros?’ Isabelle asked.
‘Wallaroos,’ Mrs Wallace replied. ‘We don’t get many kangaroos around here unless it’s really dry up north.’
‘Oh.’
‘Best mountain bike course in South Australia up yonder too,’ Mrs Wallace continued, pointing in the general direction of the mountain. ‘Is your son into bikes?’
Isabelle stopped herself from shaking her head. If it meant they would win one of the coveted positions, she would happily lie and tell everyone Fletcher was keen to try mountain biking. Fletcher hadn’t ridden a bike since grade one, but they didn’t need to know that.
Mietta fidgeted.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Wallace, but Mietta needs to get to the toilet.’
‘No worries, love. And it’s Pat. Mrs Wallace is my mother-in-law. See ya later. And good luck to you and your husband.’
Chapter 4
Matt stretched out in his king size bed and stared at the ceiling. It had been close to midnight before he finally crashed, and although he was bone tired, it took ages to fall asleep. Now, his first waking thought was of the new family. Who were they? Had they slept as badly as he had? He rubbed his temples. The headache, which had pulsated nonstop since leaving the pub the night before, was still there.
He couldn’t get the image of them out of his head. The young woman he’d seen the night before had mesmerised him. With her light brown hair falling in loose waves round her shoulders, vivid blue eyes and a summer tan, she’d reminded him of sunshine. He also couldn’t forget the blonde, pixie-like child in the backseat – a miniature version of her mother, or the older boy with the troubled expression who sat beside her.
What was their story? He wanted to know, needed to know! He mentally kicked himself for being such a fool. He should have accepted Rachel’s invitation to sit on the selection committee, then he would have seen her application and known exactly who she was and why she wanted – needed – to move to Stony Creek.
He dragged himself out of bed and into the shower, telling himself to forget her. The last thing he needed was another woman to get under his skin. With any luck, they wouldn’t be the type of family the committee was looking to help.
But as he pulled on his boots, he had an inkling his fantasies that day would be filled with images of sunshine and summer. And a beautiful young woman. A young woman without a name.
*
An hour later Matt strode up the main street as the sun was breaking through the clouds, making its first appearance for the day. He desperately needed coffee. He had dressed in his khaki uniform, despite still being off duty. He figured it would make a good first impression on the contestants if they saw Stony Creek took law and order seriously.
‘Good morning, Constable,’ Dorothy Wettenhall called out from her front porch.
Matt bit his tongue. She always called him that, and he hated it. Folk like Dorothy thought he was too young to be a sergeant, only one rank below Geoff Monahan, his boss.
Dorothy sat at a black wrought-iron table, newspaper casually positioned in front of her. Matt had never seen the table and chair setting before – she’d obviously moved it from her backyard to the front to keep an eye on proceedings. What a busybody! Then he guiltily remembered that’s what he and the old blokes at the pub had been doing the day before.
‘Good morning, Mrs Wettenhall. Lovely day for it.’ Matt lifted his fingers to the tip of his broad-brimmed hat and nodded in her direction. Her frown puckered an already over-creased forehead. She hadn’t heard a word. As well as her failing eyesight she was virtually deaf. He crossed to her side of the road. He’d learned his lesson early that keeping in the good books of people like Dorothy was important.
‘S’pose you’ve heard the news, then?’ she said.
He had no clue what she was talking about. ‘I’m sure you’re about to tell me,’ he replied pleasantly, pausing near her front gate.
‘A lovely single mother with two kids arrived late last night. They’re staying out with Pat and Col at the carava
n park. She’s pretty, so I hear. Did I mention she was single? Might be worth you—’
Matt cut her off. ‘I’m running late, Mrs Wettenhall,’ he fibbed. Smiling falsely, he walked off. No doubt she’d be mumbling under her breath about his rudeness but he needed to get away before she started matchmaking again.
As much as he wanted information on the late arrivals, he wasn’t interested in gossip. He marched up the street, his long legs covering the distance to the station in no time. As he stopped to take in the sight, he forgot his frustration. Cloudless pale blue skies stretched into eternity. Zigzagged bunting fluttered in the light breeze. Streets and footpaths were clean, the roadside garden beds full of flowering blooms. There was just enough warmth in the sun to promise another glorious spring day without it being too hot.
As much as he had reservations about the Peppercorn Project, this was Stony Creek. His adopted town.
And he loved it.
There was no mistaking everyone’s eagerness to impress. Shops had opened earlier than usual, and there was an excited buzz in the air. Matt stopped at The Green Room for coffee. Shelby’s glass-fronted display cabinets were laden with all manner of cakes and pastries, ready to tempt contestants and locals alike. Matt shook his head in wonder. Shelby must have worked long hours cooking and baking for the weekend. Matt placed his coffee order, resisting the urge to splurge on one of her sweet treats. At his age, it took a lot of effort to stay in shape. The cafe was full and Shelby barely had time to acknowledge him with a wave. She handed him his regular order and he raised his eyebrows and smiled his thanks.
Minutes later Matt let himself in through the front door of the small police station. As usual, the main desk was unoccupied.
‘Morning, Geoff. It’s only me.’
Matt’s colleague stuck his head around the door from the back office, his bald head gleaming like a polished bowling ball. His face held its usual flush. Geoff had a problem with high blood pressure. He’d dropped back to part time, counting the hours until his retirement.
‘Morning, mate. What are you doing here? It’s your day off.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Matt replied, walking behind the desk.
Geoff’s ever-faithful chocolate-coloured Kelpie, Fern, sat on a pile of old blankets at his side. As Matt drew closer, she wagged her tail slowly in recognition and he bent down to scratch her behind her ears. He needed a dog.
‘Love the job that much, do you?’ Geoff asked with a laugh. ‘Seriously, mate, what are you doing here? You should be out enjoying the day and checking out the contestants.’
Matt tipped his head to the side and looked quizzically at Geoff. ‘And why would I want to do that? You know my opinion.’
‘Ah, yeah, but that was before a pretty, young, single female arrived in town late last night.’
As usual, the news had travelled faster than a missile.
‘I got a call from Tom Morrison late last night,’ Geoff said. ‘He said I should have seen the look on your face when she pulled up outside the pub. He said you were dumbstruck. All it took was one look at her pretty face and you were gone. He said it was love at first sight.’
He said, he said, he said.
At the memory of the woman’s striking features Matt felt himself growing uncomfortably warm. No way was he admitting the words had struck a chord. Geoff was as bad as the others when it came to matchmaking.
‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous,’ said Matt. ‘Tom Morrison had a few too many beers like usual. He only thinks that’s what he saw.’
Geoff shook his head. ‘Not from what I heard, mate. The other blokes at the scene corroborated his story.’
Matt clamped his mouth shut and stifled a laugh. The more he denied that he had found her attractive, the more Geoff would hassle him. And if any of the old blokes got wind that he had indeed been struck dumb they would gang up on him again like they had last time. He remembered what they had been like with him and Leah. Ruthless. Worse than Dorothy Wettenhall.
Geoff peered at Matt over the top of his glasses. ‘When are you going to move on, Matt?’
Matt stilled. He hadn’t expected Geoff to go down that path again. ‘I have moved on.’
‘You call living the life of a country town cop in the middle of nowhere “moving on”?’ Geoff’s bushy eyebrows lifted, causing rows of lines to etch themselves deeper in his forehead.
‘I told you when I moved here I was looking for a change of pace – and that doesn’t include a woman.’ Matt averted his gaze and took a long sip of his coffee and swallowed. ‘Anyway, I’m too old to start again.’
Geoff made a clicking sound in the back of his throat. ‘Yeah, well, for what it’s worth, I reckon you’re a bloody idiot, Matt. You’re throwing your life away. If you don’t find a woman to keep you warm in bed at night, you’re gonna wind up a cranky old bachelor. Cripes, you’re already part way there!’ Geoff roared with laughter, his face flushing a deeper shade of puce.
The words bit like a barb. Geoff was like a father figure to him and he usually appreciated the older man’s frank honesty. Matt tried to shake off the hurt. What had upset him so much? The part about being cranky? Or old? Or a bachelor? At nearly forty, he wasn’t that old was he? And technically, he wasn’t a bachelor either. He was a divorcee.
God, he hated that word. It made him feel like such a failure.
‘I don’t remember asking for your opinion,’ he said.
‘Whatever.’ Geoff brushed off Matt’s rebuke and rubbed Fern’s belly with the tip of his shoe. ‘What are you gonna do today? It’s not like it takes two of us to keep everyone in line in the bustling metropolis of Stony Creek. Are you expecting a big crime spree over at the IGA?’ Geoff laughed. ‘Or perhaps you’ll stumble across someone doing a drug deal at the Catholic Church!’
Matt disregarded his sarcasm. The Catholic Church had a booming congregation of seventeen – sixteen now that Hilary had moved into the nursing home – with an average age of ninety.
Geoff was always having a go at Matt for worrying about drugs, but they were a big problem in other rural towns, so he couldn’t work out why Geoff was burying his head in the sand. Did he think Stony Creek was immune to Australia’s growing drug problem? Geoff refused to listen to Matt’s concerns, but the statistics didn’t lie. The ice issue was an epidemic the police had no hope of stemming.
Matt shrugged. ‘I’ll just wander around town and make my presence known,’ he said.
‘And check out that pretty little lass too, while you’re at it,’ Geoff said with a wink.
‘How do you know she’s here for the competition?’
Geoff laughed so hard he had a coughing fit, his face turning purple as he struggled for breath. Fern looked up with watery eyes and Geoff absentmindedly rubbed the dog’s head.
‘What else would she be here for?’ he asked once he finally stopped spluttering.
‘I don’t know. Maybe she’s taking her kids on a camping trip. Or hiking, or riding up the mountain. People come to Stony Creek for lots of reasons you know.’
‘Didn’t hear she had any bikes on her car,’ Geoff said.
‘Then perhaps she was looking for a place to stay overnight on her way to somewhere else,’ Matt said, exasperated. The conversation was getting old. ‘I’ll tell you what, Geoff, if I see her again today I’ll be sure to tell her you want to meet her.’
Matt turned on his heel and left the way he had come, slamming the door a little harder than he had intended or needed to. Geoff’s chuckle chased him out the door and he was halfway up the street before he remembered he’d left his coffee sitting on his boss’s desk. Knowing Geoff, he would have finished it off without giving it a second thought, but Matt didn’t care. He was more worried about why his heart was beating a little faster at the thought he might catch sight of the mystery contestant again.
Chapter 5
Isabelle wasn’t sure why she’d driven the short distance from the caravan park into town – it was close enough they cou
ld have walked. She crossed the bridge over a dry creek bed filled with silver river stones – Stony Creek, she presumed – and drove slowly up and down the main street, then the side streets, getting her bearings. It didn’t take long. She passed the empty bowling green and an equally empty playground on her right and came to a t-intersection opposite the post office which sat next to the library. On either side of the wide road, bull-nosed veranda shopfronts were adorned with bunting and banners and signs welcoming contestants. An older teenager stood in the middle of the road, directing traffic, an orange high-visibility vest hanging off his lanky frame. Neat rows of cars were parallel parked bumper-to-bumper down both sides of the main street. Every make and model of four wheel drive was represented but there were plenty of small cars like hers too. She drove past a butcher, an antique shop, the Country Fire Services shed, a modern looking cafe, a hardware shop and the ANZ bank. There was far more activity than she’d expected and she ended up having to park in a side street next to the clay tennis court behind the pub.
‘Come on, Fletcher, stop dragging your feet,’ Isabelle urged. ‘I don’t want to be late. It won’t make a good impression.’
Mietta skipped alongside Isabelle, barely able to contain her excitement. ‘Am I allowed to talk to them?’
‘If you’re asked a question, then yes, you can answer. But remember your manners,’ Isabelle said.
Mietta looked behind at her brother. ‘Guess that means you’ll have to keep quiet,’ she said, sticking out her tongue. ‘Cos you haven’t got any manners.’
Fletcher screwed up his face, but remained mute. What was going on in his head?
In tense silence, Isabelle marched them down the street, and it wasn’t until they passed the primary school she slowed her steps and began to relax. The playground stood beneath towering gum trees in a bed of freshly strewn bark chips. It looked much newer than she had expected for such a small country school.
The Peppercorn Project Page 4
