Broken (17 page)

‘Yes,' said Mattie flatly, sliding down off her stool. ‘I'll put it back.'

‘No, don't be stupid.' Jake put his hand back on the box so that she couldn't take it. ‘Next time, just wait till I'm home, okay? Otherwise I'll have to take your key off you.'

Mattie stared at him, trying to work out whether he was joking. After a long moment, he smiled, his face transforming in an instant, and she let her breath out with some relief. She climbed back onto her stool. ‘Sorry.'

‘No problem. But do you see my point?'

‘I think . . . yes, of course I do.'

‘Well, that's the main thing.' Jake lifted the lid off the saucepan with the water and frowned at it. ‘Come on, you bugger, boil already.'

‘I think you need to turn it on,' offered Mattie.

Jake stared at the dial and burst out laughing. ‘I think you're right. Christ I'm good at this, aren't I?'

‘I think you've done a great job,' protested Mattie as she watched him turn the gas on.

‘Wait till you taste it!'

‘Well, it smells good anyway.' Mattie took an appreciative sniff.

‘Oh, I've got something for you.' Jake abandoned his saucepans to pluck an envelope off the bench and hand it across to her. ‘Came home with Max last Friday and I forgot about it.'

The envelope had been opened so Mattie just slid the folded paper
out. It was a school notice advising of an excursion to be held in early December, at a cost of twenty-three dollars. Scienceworks, in South Melbourne. Bring a packed lunch and a packet drink. Mattie sighed and then looked across at Jake. This seemed as good a time as any.

‘Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you about these things. I know we left a lot of the financial side of the kids up in the air, but don't you think we should be going halves? Not just this–' Mattie waved the paper in the air – ‘but also swimming and stuff like that?'

‘No.' Jake frowned, not in an unfriendly way but as though he was confused.

‘Why not?'

‘Because you get the family allowance from the government, of course.' Jake looked at her as if she had suggested something totally outlandish. ‘You can't seriously expect me to pay for stuff when
you're
the one who's getting paid to look after them?'

‘But, Jake, do you know how much I get?'

‘That's not the point. You should have researched all that before you left.'

Mattie stared at the school notice dumbly. ‘I simply don't have enough for these. Half my money goes in rent alone. There'll be nothing left after I pay for groceries. I don't even know how I'm going to pay the bills.'

‘Well, once again, you should have thought of that, shouldn't you?'

‘But, Jake, be fair . . .'

‘You're
the one who's not being fair, Mattie! I mean, let me get this straight.' Jake picked up the wooden spoon and stirred inside the large cast-iron pot. Then he turned back to Mattie. ‘You want me to pay for them even when I don't have them? So, apart from paying for them when they're here, you want me to pay you money for when you've got them as well. Swimming is on a Monday, that's
your
day. And if you check that notice, you'll see the excursion is on a Wednesday. Your day also. If something comes up on
my
day, then I'll pay for it.'

‘But I –'

‘And you're damn lucky I'm even willing to do that. For Christ sake, Mattie, that's what the frigging family allowance is for, isn't it? I should be asking
you
for money!'

‘Me?'

‘Yes, you! But am I asking for half the family allowance? No, I'm not. Because
I'm
trying to be fair. Your problem is you've had it too easy. Always had a good wage coming in here, didn't you?'

‘Yes, but –'

‘Well, now you need to learn to budget, that's all.' Jake turned his back on her and stirred the bolognaise with obvious annoyance.

‘Then I'll have to get a job,' said Mattie, frowning at his back. ‘I'll have no choice.'

Jake stirred for a few more seconds and then turned to her, his eyes hardening even as he spoke. ‘Are you trying to blackmail me?'

‘No, I'm just trying to be honest!'

‘Honest?' Jake laughed, but his eyes remained cold. ‘Don't give me that. You're trying to give me an ultimatum. You fucking amaze me, Mattie, you really do. Doesn't matter how much I try –' Jake paused as he waved his spare hand at the saucepans on the stove – ‘you just want more.'

‘That's not what –'

‘Well, I tell you what, you can have it.' Jake flung the wooden spoon in the direction of the sink, spatters of thick red bolognaise sauce marking its passage. Then he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and threw it down on the bench, where it flipped open and lay with its contents exposed before her. ‘There you go. Take the lot. I'm going to get changed.'

As Jake strode past her, Mattie stared at the wallet blankly. In the upper section a fifty dollar note sat sandwiched between two twenties and, underneath, was a small, colour photo of her with Courtney on her lap and Max leaning against her shoulder. They were each smiling, a normal, happy family. Mattie blinked and looked away, towards the red spray left behind by the wooden spoon. One fat droplet hung on the edge of the counter-top, a piece of onion in its centre like a pallid eye. The droplet slowly elongated and then fell to the floor, splattering on the slate like blood. Mattie shook her head, trying to focus. If anything, she'd just made things worse. Ruined the evening at the outset. And the worst of it was that she was no longer even sure she had been
right in the first place. She
did
get all the family allowance, despite only having the kids half the time. So now she just felt greedy and grasping.

‘Why d'you
always
make Daddy angry?'

Mattie whipped around to face Courtney with surprise. ‘What?'

‘You!' Courtney stood by the bench with her fists clenched. ‘You ruin everything!'

‘
I
do?'

‘Yes, you
know
you do! Daddy was in a really good mood until
you
started at him.'

‘Courtney, I
had
to talk to him.' Mattie bent down and took her daughter by the arms to try and make her understand. ‘It was about important things. I
had
to.'

‘No you didn't.' Courtney shook her off angrily. ‘You
like
making him angry. Why can't you just be nice?'

‘Oh god.'

‘I hate you here.' Courtney stamped her foot and then, after glaring at her mother fiercely with over-bright eyes, ran back into the lounge-room. Dumbly, Mattie watched her go. Is that how she really saw it? Max too? She rubbed her neck, which had started throbbing again, and stared down at the bench-top, willing herself not to cry.

Then, after a few moments in which a mix of emotions churned nauseously in her gut, Mattie took a deep breath and resolutely pushed the Courtney business to the back of her mind. She would deal with that later. For now, there were more immediate things to do. And first and foremost was rescuing this evening before it became a disaster. And she knew, from long experience, there was only one thing that could accomplish that at this point.

‘Dinner'll be ready in about ten minutes. I just need to see Daddy for a bit,' Mattie called into the lounge-room as she slid down off the stool. She took the dishcloth and quickly cleaned up the spilt bolognaise, wiping down the tiles and mopping the splattered droplet off the floor. She watched the small piece of onion circle the plughole slowly as she rinsed the cloth off and then turned the tap on full, jabbing it through the holes with her finger. The top of a fingernail split across as it hit the plughole at an angle so she pulled that off and washed it down as well.
That done, she washed her hands thoroughly and took a last gulp of wine before walking deliberately down towards the master bedroom. At the door she paused, running her fingers through her hair and then undoing the top few buttons of her cheerful, raspberry-coloured shirt before pushing the door open and entering the room.

 

T
he second time was almost a year later. They'd been to a New Year's Eve party hosted by Liz and Alan, her soon-to-be husband, who erected a huge marquee in their backyard for the occasion. It was a windy evening, and the white canvas rippled around them like a boat's sail, sometimes flapping with such force that it cracked like a whip
.

When the countdown began for midnight, Mattie was at a table with some friends she hadn't seen for ages, chatting about marriage, and work, and catching up on gossip. She grabbed her champagne and set off in search of Jake as the crowd joyfully yelled down the seconds – ten, nine, eight, seven . . . Weaving in and out, she had laughingly given up, trusting they would find each other sooner or later. Instead she joined in with Liz and her group as they raised their glasses and yelled out the last moments of the year. Three, two, one
.

Everybody cheered as midnight struck and kisses rained all round. Paula had run past, kissing Mattie on the top of the head, and then Liz kissed her, on the cheek, before Alan lifted her up and planted one on her lips. Then, while Liz and Alan shared a longer embrace with each other, Mattie exchanged kisses and ‘Happy New Years' with the others before she turned away, looking for Jake again. And saw him almost immediately, standing not far away and staring straight at her. At first she hadn't realised that anything was wrong and just made her way, grinning hugely, towards him. Even when she got closer and saw that his face was frozen in a mask of anger, her smile had stayed in place. Just more uncertain, and confused by the juxtaposition of celebration and flat fury
.

He grabbed her by the arm, roughly, and steered her through the throng of people towards the exit. Friends called out as they passed and she tried to answer, playing down her embarrassment
. ‘Sorry, gotta go. Left the iron on. Ha, ha.'
But Jake hadn't paused, not even when she stumbled over an abandoned chair. He just dug his fingers in deeper, dragging her upright as he went. And there had been no reply to her exclamations or questions as to what was wrong either. Not until they got home
.

H
ilda visited on Friday afternoon, bringing a large, round tin with snowy Christmas scenes decorating the sides. Her short, square frame was dressed in a navy skirt with a rather pretty coral ribbed top. She was also wearing a quantity of gold jewellery – several bracelets, a chain and earrings studded with a large round pearl. The overall effect made her look far more like a cultured European than she had previously. Almost like a different person, especially since her hair had obviously been set recently; it was brushed up and back from her forehead in firmly lacquered waves the same soft colour as a dolphin's belly. She carefully sat the tin down on the kitchen table, opening it to reveal a mound of small, horseshoe-shaped homemade biscuits that were generously dusted with icing sugar.

‘Vanilla
Kipferl,'
explained Hilda rather proudly, taking one out and offering it to Mattie. ‘Christmas biscuits. Delicious.'

‘Thanks.' Mattie, who wasn't in the least hungry, took a bite to be polite. And it
was
delicious. With a distinctly almond taste, it almost melted in her mouth. She ate the rest of the biscuit, and then dusted her t-shirt, icing sugar sprinkling down to the floor like snow. The fresh-baked smell of the biscuits brought back vague memories of her mother baking when she and Hannah were young. Nothing as nice as these, though.

‘Good, hey?'

‘Yes.
Really
good.' Mattie rinsed her hands off and went over to the stove to put the kettle on. ‘Are they all for me?'

‘Tch, tch.' Hilda shook her head with mock disappointment.
‘And
the children.'

Mattie grinned. ‘If they're lucky'

‘I shall have to ask them, make sure they got some.' Hilda's smile faded as she regarded Mattie pensively. ‘You look tired. Something happened?'

‘Pardon?' Mattie gaped at her, startled by the abruptness of the question.

‘I asked if anything has happened.'

‘Um...no.' Mattie turned her back, stalling, hoping Hilda would have focused on something else by the time she got two mugs out of the cupboard and over to the table. But when she finally faced her she found that Hilda was still regarding her searchingly.

‘Thank you,' Hilda gestured at the coffee and then returned her black-button gaze to Mattie's face. ‘Actually, you look even worse close up.'

‘Thanks a lot,' Mattie laughed as she sat down, trying to lighten the mood.

Hilda didn't even smile. ‘So what is it?'

‘Nothing.' Mattie shrugged noncommittally. ‘Probably just things on my mind. Like we're going up to Yea on Sunday to visit my in-laws, and you know what they say about in-laws!'

‘Hmm . . . bad night sleep?'

‘That too.'

‘But you were not here, were you? Your car was gone.'

‘Um, yes, that's right.' Mattie began to feel like she was being cross-examined. She took another biscuit. ‘These really are wonderful, Hilda. You must give me the recipe.'

‘Certainly. So stay with a friend, did you?'

‘If you must know –' Mattie let some of her annoyance seep into her tone – ‘I stayed with my husband. We've decided to stay together twice a week. To talk things through.'

‘Did it work?' Hilda ploughed on relentlessly, her eyes fixed on Mattie's like ebony interrogation lamps. ‘Talking things through, I mean.'

Mattie got up to rinse the icing sugar off her hands again and then sat
down again, looking at Hilda narrowly while she finished formulating a cutting reply to the woman's nosiness. She opened her mouth to deliver it but what came out instead, in a whisper, was: ‘No. No it didn't.'