Broken (4 page)

 

T
hey held their first dinner party while house-sitting a work colleague's home and waiting to move into their own. Meticulous planning went into every detail – who to invite, what to serve, which music to play, how to decorate. In the end they invited eight people, a mixture of friends and family. And they dressed the table with wedding presents of crockery, cutlery and crystal. Mattie raided the garden for huge sprays of wattle and fernery for a centrepiece, and Jake folded the serviettes into little opera houses that squatted before each carefully laid place setting
.

For starters they served some type of seafood dish, Mattie couldn't remember what exactly. But the main course had been delicious – a creamy chicken and asparagus dish that Jake found in a recipe book and cooked to perfection. They presented it with a green salad and crusty bread rolls. And for dessert there was chocolate and rum mousse topped with whipped cream and curly slivers of dark chocolate
.

The evening was a huge success. Sublime, sociable, relaxing. After dinner they took their glasses out to the patio where they sat and talked about plans and promises. There was a magnificent lavender bush by the French doors, and the pungent, cloying smell of the fresh lavender seemed almost more intoxicating than the wine. And Mattie had basted in her pleasure, buoyed by the idea that this evening would be the first of many where friends were always welcome and good food and wine simply oiled the contentment that was her life
.

After everybody left, Jake and Mattie went back outside and listened to music. And when Meatloaf came on with the song ‘Two out of three ain't bad', they took it in turns to sing it to each other, only harmonising when it came to the chorus. By the end of the song they were both laughing so hard they could hardly get the words out
.

M
attie started peeling and slicing potatoes at the kitchen sink just after five o'clock on Sunday afternoon, flipping the pallid segments into a large pot of boiling water on the stove. It had been a busy day, but the dividends were evident throughout the transformed unit. A huge grocery shop had filled the cupboards and provided odd necessities like scissors and light-globes and pot pourri to banish the last of the stale smell. Even though it severely dented her available funds, the investment had been well worth it, bestowing a sense of permanency hitherto largely absent. Now everything that needed to be unpacked was unpacked, with the boxes flattened and stacked in the laundry. And although the furniture was sparse, the walls bare and the windows covered with odd spare sheets, it felt as if she had now
stamped
the rooms. Marked her territory. A few cushions, some framed photos, an open book, the rich smell of food cooking – and a cluster of featureless rooms suddenly metamorphosed into a home.

Mattie opened the oven and stirred the casserole of braised beef in red wine, breathing in the rich aroma with satisfaction. As she slid it back into the oven and closed the door, a car could be heard decelerating outside before it turned off the main road and then coasted slowly down the driveway with a throbbing purr. Mattie immediately froze, waiting tensely until the car passed, the sound fading as it continued on down the driveway towards the two rear units.

Mattie relaxed again, rolling her eyes at her reaction. But she'd been
like that all afternoon, with her stomach tensing every time she heard a car slow down. Twice, when the car hadn't moved on quickly, she'd rushed to the lounge-room windows to draw the sheet-curtains back just enough to see that it was only other unit-dwellers stopping at the mailboxes to retrieve their weekend junk mail. And she couldn't understand why she felt so nervous. Why, when she was only expecting her own family, was she feeling all the adrenalin-charged expectation of a first date? She'd even dressed carefully, trying to balance nonchalant casualness with something flattering, and finally settled on jeans she hadn't worn in years that were now a bit tight around the buttocks, and a clingy shell-pink long-sleeved shirt. Now all she needed was her family.

Mattie washed her hands briskly and then went into the loungeroom to sit on the couch armrest and peer behind the sheets. She played a game in which she counted cars, with the tenth car bound to be them. Then the twentieth. Thirtieth. Maybe the fiftieth. She became aware that her forehead had beaded with perspiration so she ran into the bathroom to reapply her make-up. Then back into the lounge-room, one, two, three, convincing herself that Murphy's law had kicked in and they'd arrived while she was gone. But they hadn't. In fact they didn't arrive until nearly seven, when the potatoes had long boiled, and the casserole had been turned down to a thickened simmer.

Courtney exited the car first, pausing on the pathway to gaze at the unit blankly. Mattie repressed the urge to fling open the door and envelop the child in her arms. Instead she stayed where she was, a voyeuristic witness to her daughter's first impressions. Courtney was six, a small dark-haired girl whose baby plumpness was still evident in her sturdy legs and rounded belly. She was a child to whom openness came naturally, who disliked subterfuge, and artifice, and secrets. Unless she was the instigator.

Apart from his dark hair and eyes, her brother was very different. Although not a devious child in the sense of being deceitful, he nevertheless displayed an instinctive wariness that sometimes made him seem that way. But Mattie knew this was more because he just seemed to
feel
things more profoundly than most other children. It was like
his soul had no protection and the only defence he could muster was avoidance.

Mattie watched, a lead weight pressing against her gut, as Max finally scrambled from the front passenger seat and joined his sister on the path. They'd obviously dressed themselves – Max in a pair of patterned board shorts and a black windcheater with orange lining, and Courtney in her favourite pink tutu topped by a red cardigan. Her long hair was caught up in a rather crooked ponytail that was barely secured by an extravagant pink and gold hair-tie. Both children looked back towards the car, unsure of what was expected of them next. By now their father had also emerged and was removing their schoolbags from the boot. Mattie stared at him, trying to reconcile her pleasure at seeing him with the fact that she was here in the first place. Nothing made sense.

Even in terms of looks, they were a matched set. Like Mattie, Jake had olive skin and dark brown hair, a virtual guarantee that both their children would inherit the same colouring. The only difference was that Mattie, Max and Courtney all had brown eyes, while Jake's were an unusual shade of bluish pewter-grey that shone when he was amused and dulled flatly when he was annoyed. He was a tall, almost thin man with large hands and feet and distinct grooves either side of his mouth that deepened when he smiled. At thirty-three his hair had the beginnings of a prematurely receding hairline, a family trait that Jake was rather self-conscious about, often spending an inordinate amount of time and money on differing hair products, a conceit that Mattie found rather endearing. Dressed more tastefully than his children, Jake was wearing jeans and a navy polo shirt with a light blue inset panel across the chest. As Mattie watched, he slammed the boot shut and grinned across at their indecision, saying something that she couldn't hear and gesturing towards the front door. Seconds later the doorbell rang, its shrillness making her jump even though she was expecting it. Mattie took in a deep breath, waiting until it filled the uncomfortable hollow beneath her ribcage before going to answer the door. But before she could, it swung open.

‘Hey there.'Jake grinned and held up her spare key. ‘Still got this from the other day so I thought I'd save you the bother. How's it going?'

‘Good. It's good.' Mattie stood there awkwardly.

‘Mummy!' Courtney squeezed herself past and flung herself on her mother. ‘Mummy! I
missed
you.'

‘Oh god, Court.' Mattie bobbed down, the tight jeans protesting, and wrapped her arms around her daughter amongst the pink tulle. ‘I missed you too.
So
much.'

‘C'mon, it's only been two days.' Jake shook his head with mock disgust as he dumped the schoolbags on the floor and then reached down into one of them and pulled out a bottle of champagne. ‘Here you go. House-warming gift. Chilled and all.'

Still keeping one arm around Courtney, Mattie took the bottle and smiled at Jake with surprise. ‘Thanks. That's really nice.'

‘That's me. Really nice.'

She looked at the bottle, truly touched by his thoughtfulness, and then to hide her emotion, peered past Jake towards the doorway. ‘Where's Max?'

‘Right here.' Jake stepped inside and revealed Max, who had been standing behind him. ‘It's just he's got a bit more self-control than you two. Haven't you, mate?'

‘Yep.' Max met his mother's eyes briefly as he shuffled inside next to his father. He glanced around the room expressionlessly and then stared down at his feet.

‘I know it's not much.' Mattie looked at him ruefully. ‘But we can fix it up more. Hang some pictures, maybe even paint the walls if the landlord lets us.'

‘I don't think it'll help.' Jake gave the lounge-room a cursory look. ‘Still can't believe you couldn't do better than
this
.'

‘Well I couldn't.' Mattie stood up, still keeping an arm around Courtney but with her eyes on Max. ‘Do you want to see your room? I've been working on it all weekend.'

‘Okay.'

‘Me too!' Courtney finally disengaged herself and jumped back. ‘Where is it?'

‘Up here.' Mattie led the way up the small passage and into the kids' bedroom. She stood back as they entered and then watched their faces
apprehensively, well aware that it didn't measure up to the other bedrooms. At home.

‘Can I have the top bunk?' Courtney clambered up the ladder and bounced on the top excitedly. ‘Can I?'

‘We're sharing?' Max sounded stunned.

‘I
told
you that,' replied Mattie defensively. ‘There weren't any three bedroom units around. Not that I could afford.'

‘And she didn't want to wait for something better,' added Jake, who had come to stand in the doorway. ‘Too eager to be shot of me. Which is my cue to leave.'

‘No!' The word came out like a gunshot and Mattie immediately flushed. ‘I mean, I thought that, maybe . . . you'd like to stay for dinner?'

Jake looked down at her with obvious amusement. ‘And I thought the whole point was to get
away
from me.'

‘Not quite . . .' Mattie petered off as she glanced at the children, who were both listening expectantly.

Courtney flipped onto her stomach and slid off the top bunk, a pair of Barbie knickers flashing before she landed on her feet and the tutu settled into place. She ran over to her father and wrapped an arm around his knees. ‘Please stay, Daddy
Please
.'

‘How can I refuse you?' Jake grabbed his daughter under both arms and swung her up, settling her around his waist. She squealed with delight and smacked a kiss against his cheek.

‘Okay then,' Mattie said, injecting heartiness into her voice, ‘let's celebrate with the champagne!'

‘Celebrate?' queried Jake, raising an eyebrow at her.

‘Well . . . you know what I mean.'

‘Rarely, my dear, rarely' said Jake, in his best Rhett Butler voice.

Max, who had watched this exchange silently, flicked one more glance around his new bedroom and then squeezed past his father and walked back into the lounge-room. Jake put Courtney down and she ran after her brother, to start a mild bickering over the ownership of the top bunk. Mattie followed them with more measured steps and turned into the kitchen, where she put the mashed potatoes in the microwave
and pulled the casserole from the oven. Jake came in and leant against the doorframe.

‘Need a hand?'

‘No, it's all done.' Mattie examined the beef, noting with disappointment that the edges had started to congeal thickly. She trickled some water from the kettle into the casserole dish and stirred it vigorously. The water formed beaded rivulets through the red wine sauce, refusing to merge, while the chunks of meat separated into stringy threads.

‘Mmm, looks appetising.'

Mattie flashed her husband a suspicious look but he just grinned back, the furrows on either side of his mouth stretching into smiles themselves. The microwave pinged so she removed the bowl of mashed potato and placed it on the table, which she had set earlier with four places. She gave the casserole one more hopeful stir and then gave up, putting it on the table also.

‘It is hard to fail, but worse never to have tried to succeed,' Jake read from the fridge, and then glanced across at Mattie. ‘Is that what you call leaving me? Trying to succeed?'

‘No. That is, I –'

Jake gave her a wry smile. ‘Just teasing.'

‘Oh.'

‘By the way, I like your jeans. Advertising your wares already, are you?'

‘Only to you,' replied Mattie quickly, with a grin.

‘Let's keep it that way, wench. And now, how about I open the champagne?'

Jake proceeded to do just that, the frothy liquid bubbling over the top as he rushed it to the sink. They both laughed and Mattie passed him two flutes.

‘Is dinner ready? I'm
starving.'
Courtney bounced into the room, her ponytail flipping from side to side as she tried to take everything in.

‘I'm not surprised. Look at the time.' Mattie glanced quickly at Jake, hoping he didn't take this as criticism, but he was busy mopping the champagne spillage off the floor. She turned back to Courtney ‘But it's ready now. Sit down and I'll fill your plate.'

Jake stood with an exaggerated groan and threw the dishcloth into the sink. Then he took his champagne over to the table and pulled out a chair. ‘Max! Dinner's ready!'