Paycheque (33 page)

Claire began to wish she hadn't paid to have cleaners come through the day before after all. It was nice not to have to worry about doing it herself, but this sitting about twiddling her thumbs was excruciating.

Claire pulled out her pad of paper and began making a new to do list. She pulled a muesli bar from her handbag, tore open the wrapper and began nibbling mouse-like at the edges. The snack kept her engrossed for another half-hour. When she finally checked her watch – after tucking the empty wrapper into her pocket and brushing the crumbs from her lap – it was nearly two o'clock.
Shit! Where were they?

Claire rummaged in her bag for her mobile. Her heart sank when she found there were plenty of bars indicating coverage but no missed calls. She got up again and wandered through the house. But there was really nothing to be done. She returned to the back verandah and sat listening for the sound of a vehicle approaching. There was still nothing but the crackle and rustle of the trees in the strong, warm breeze.

‘Hello, anyone here?'

Claire was instantly up and bolting around to the front.

‘Oh! Derek!' she exclaimed, stopping short at the corner of the house. ‘What are you doing here?' Claire had the urge to throw her arms around him.

‘Just passing by, thought I'd check you didn't need any help after all.'

‘I've been too bloody organised. And now I've got nothing to do but wait. I'm bored out of my brain, actually.' She laughed.

‘When are the removalists due?'

‘God only knows – I thought they would have been here by now.'

‘So where are they? Have you rung them?'

‘No, didn't want the “we're going as fast as we can” speech. They're packing everything – not just the furniture – so it'll take a while. I've been itching to call but don't want to risk pissing them off.'

‘Fair enough.'

‘Derek, thanks for calling in – it means a lot.'

‘My pleasure. Actually, I brought you something. Stay there,' he ordered, and walked away.

Claire watched as he extracted a large wicker picnic basket from the boot of his car.

‘Moving day survival kit,' Derek said, patting the side of the basket.

‘Liar, you were not just passing,' Claire said. Derek paused and looked at her.

‘Well I knew you wouldn't call and ask me to help.'

‘So, just what have you got in there?' Claire said, breaking the awkward silence and tugging at the basket.

‘All the necessities. Where do you want to sit?' he asked, dragging a red and black tartan picnic rug from the top of the basket and looking around.

‘Here on the verandah is fine. Hopefully they'll be here soon.' As she said it, Claire found herself hoping the removalists would now take their time. Derek spread the rug and Claire watched in amazement as he laid out crusty bread, barbecue chicken, cheese, crackers, dips, and a variety of deli foods.

‘This is amazing, Derek. Thank you.'

‘But wait, there's more,' he joked, and brought out a green bottle of sparkling mineral water. ‘There's champagne in the esky, but that's for when you've actually moved…'

‘That's if I ever get moved,' she groaned.

‘…and there's coke, diet coke, lemonade – I wasn't sure what you would prefer.'

Claire laughed. ‘You're just too much. The water is fine. I probably need the caffeine, but I've already got a headache.'

‘Well why didn't you say so?' Derek fished in the basket and brought out some shrink-wrapped packets.

‘I've got paracetamol, ibuprofen, aspirin, and codeine for if it gets really bad.'

Claire was wide-eyed. ‘Derek, you're amazing. How could you have possibly thought of all this? You're a man, for goodness sake!'
Shit, did I really say that out loud?
Claire blushed.

Derek blushed. ‘Actually I confess I did have some help…'

He'd discussed her with someone? This was more than just a friendly gesture, wasn't it? She hoped it wasn't his girlfriend he'd sought advice from.

‘…from Maddie. I wouldn't have had a clue.'

‘Well thank you, Maddie. And two ibuprofens would be great, thanks.'

Sitting next to Derek, making her way through the delicacies he'd brought, Claire couldn't believe she'd never realised how really nice he was. But then she hadn't been looking, had she?

‘Looks like we've got company,' Derek said suddenly, and started bundling everything back into the basket.

‘Derek, you don't have to go.'

‘I'm not,' he said, getting up and offering her a hand. ‘I'm going to stay, have a look around your new home, and see you settled. But only if you're okay with me being here.'

‘Of course. But if I get stressed you might want to steer clear – I'm told I can get a bit bossy.'

‘Claire, how long did we work together? I think I can cope with you ordering me around a bit – I might like it.'

‘Derek!' Claire slapped him playfully on the arm.

‘So, are you going to give me the grand tour, or not?' Derek said, looking at her with his hands on his hips.

Claire and the house had survived the housewarming with only two broken glasses and the odd spill of wine. It was a lovely warm evening, so traffic through the house was kept mainly to guided tours and bathroom stops. Eight of her city friends had made the effort, but Claire was a little relieved when they made excuses to leave early. They'd seemed so ill at ease and out of place.

Bernie and David had stayed true to their word and done all the work before, during and after. They'd left at three o'clock after cleaning up and restoring everything to order.

It was the perfect way to have a party
, Claire thought the next morning. There was no sign there'd even been one, except for a box of empty beer and wine bottles, and a couple of tied-up garbage bags out by her back door.

Since the party, Claire had spent a full week in her cottage, and was settling into a comfortable routine of going to the farm in the mornings and relaxing at home in the afternoons. She was getting over the novelty of having moved house and had finally stopped
appraising her furniture and knick-knacks and moving them around.

She was due to start late at the farm that morning, but her body clock still woke her at five. Claire thrust her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling, counting the motes floating around her. Her heart felt heavy.
I'm just overtired after moving
, she told herself.

Claire rolled over and pulled the extra pillow to her chest, and was surprised to find a lump forming in her throat.
Must be hormones
, she thought, calculating the date of her last period. She was actually mid-cycle so should be feeling ready to take on the world. Instead, all she wanted was a decent cry.

But why? Her life was pretty good right at the moment.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Refusing to give in and cry, Claire dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. It was her usual fix for feeling glum.

Conscious of conserving water, she stood under only lightly cascading warm water and tried to figure out what was making her feel so down.

It wasn't second thoughts about the cottage – she absolutely loved the place. She certainly wasn't missing city life.

Since selling the townhouse, she hadn't even given it a second thought. No, her mood had nothing to do with houses and moving.

Her plan with the horses was working out really well and she, Jack and Maddie were making a great team. Preparations for the upcoming Strathalbyn meet were coming along well, too. So it wasn't about the horses either.

She had great friends like Bernie and David – and now Derek – around her to provide support and to hang out with whenever she needed a change of scene. Derek seemed to get along well with David and Bernie at the party. They'd all been so good to her. So she definitely wasn't lonely.

None the wiser, she reluctantly got out, dried herself and got dressed. It was while staring at the kettle, waiting for it to boil, that it hit her.

‘Keith. Oh my God,' she yelped, and went to the calendar on the fridge, which had been a housewarming gift from Maddie. Today was their wedding anniversary. Jesus, how could she have forgotten? She'd been too busy thinking of her great new life without him. Even worse: she'd been thinking of Derek.

The tears Claire had been holding at bay began to roll steadily down her cheeks as she stood looking out of her kitchen window. She pulled herself away and collapsed into her plush sofa. She buried her face in a large feather pillow and sobbed.

In the depths of her foggy mind she heard her home phone ring, but didn't care. Moments later her mobile, just an arm's length away on the coffee table, began vibrating, and then ringing. She turned away and pulled another pillow over her head to block out the sound.

Claire was in almost that same position when Bernadette and David arrived forty-five minutes later. She ignored their knocking at the door and refused to leave her safe, dark cocoon.

‘David, in here.' Bernadette's voice was muffled.

Somewhere deep within her, Claire felt the tiniest glimmer of relief. Someone cared enough. But she didn't deserve it. Keith was dead and she'd forgotten him. He was the one who'd suffered the terrifying accident. All she had to do was go on living, getting up, going to work, pay the bills. Work? What work? Bills! That bloody four-wheel drive – how could he have done that to her? Point oh fucking seven.

‘Claire, Claire. Come on, wake up!'

The cushions were being dragged from Claire's clutches. She blinked at the sudden change of light. Her best friend was kneeling in front of her. David was a silhouette over by the door.

‘Bloody hell, Claire. You scared the shit out of us. Why didn't you answer your phones?'

Claire's mouth was too dry to speak. Her face felt tight under the salty streaks of dried tears. She stared back at her friend.

‘I know it's your anniversary – it was always going be a tough day for you. But Claire, you've come so far, don't fall apart on us now.'

‘But I forgot…'

‘Beating yourself up isn't going to bring him back, it's just going to make you miserable all over again.'

‘But even you remembered.'

‘No, I didn't – Jack did. He rang me.'

‘That's even worse,' she said, her chin quivering.

‘It's been a big year, Claire. You've had a lot on your mind. It doesn't mean you loved him any less. Seriously, you've got to pull yourself together.'

Claire straightened up and accepted the glass of milk David held out to her. ‘It's got a bit of brandy in it. I promise it'll help.'

‘Thanks,' she said, and took a swig. She felt the warmth instantly start to seep through her.

‘David, I think it's time for the other remedy,' Bernie said.

‘I think you're right.'

Claire looked from one to the other, frowning.

‘You'll see soon enough,' they said in unison.

David left.

Bernadette patted her hand and laughed. ‘Don't worry, we're not carting you off to the funny farm or anything. We got you a little present to cheer you up.'

David walked back in moments later with two squirming, grey striped kittens clutched to his chest.

Claire stared wide-eyed and held out her arms.

‘If you really don't like them they can go back.'

‘No way; I love them. Come here, you guys. Ooh, aren't you cute?' She peered at the little balls of fluff with bulging eyes. ‘They're so tiny. Oh, they're just wonderful. Thank you.'

David sat on the sofa beside Claire and the three of them watched while the kittens clawed their way up over the upholstery. After ten minutes or so the kittens had exhausted themselves and made their way back to Claire and Bernie's laps, curled up and gone to sleep.

‘I'll get their stuff,' David said.

‘Yeah, better have a litter box set up for when they need it,' Bernie said.

‘So, where did you get them? And are they boys, girls, or both?'

‘Both boys. You have to take them back in a couple of months to be desexed – it was included in the price.'

‘Take them where? What shop did they come from?'

‘Shop! Jesus, Claire, you don't think I'd ever go to a pet shop, do you? You know what I think of those places. No, they came from the RSPCA shelter. I know you would have liked to choose your own, but I'm glad you didn't – it was so depressing having to look at all the dear little faces pleading to be taken too.'

‘Oh, were there heaps there?' Claire asked, stroking the sleeping bundle in her lap.

‘Well let's just say there were enough to choose from. These guys are brothers from a litter of four.'