The Peppercorn Project (20 page)

‘No! At least not that I’m aware.’

‘Have you talked to him? Made sure he knows he can talk to you if someone offers him drugs?’

A shiver raced down her spine. Twice in one night. First Leah and now Matt. ‘What’s going on, Matt?’

‘Nothing.’

Should she tell him what Leah had said about Hugo?

‘Talk to Fletcher about drugs,’ Matt said. ‘If he hears anything, make sure he knows he can talk to me any time.’

She nodded, but something else niggled at the edges of her brain. Three times on Friday patients from neighbouring towns had shown up looking for Hugo.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’ He nudged her gently with his elbow.

She put her worries aside as Fletcher rode past them again, still grinning.

‘He’s okay here on the street, but how will he go off-road?’

‘I’ll make sure we do lots of practice runs on easy trails first before we tackle anything too big,’ Matt promised. ‘Trust me.’

She looked across at him. His smile was as broad as Fletcher’s.

‘How much is this bike worth, Matt?’

He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. Did you see the look on Fletcher’s face? Seeing him smile like that makes it priceless. He looks like a kid who’s been handed the keys to a Lamborghini.’

Matt was right. ‘How can we ever thank you?’ Isabelle said. ‘You’re so good to us.’

‘Right now I’d settle for a hug.’

She hesitated before taking a step closer. He wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his embrace, forgetting she was wearing hardly any clothing. Fletcher pulled up beside them and she jerked away, worried about his reaction. Rather than the scowl she expected, Fletcher smiled at them with a strange expression she couldn’t interpret.

‘Do you want to come back in and have that cup of tea I promised?’ she asked Matt, fighting to find normal footing. Tonight would be the perfect time to talk, to tell him about Dan.

He paused, long enough for Isabelle to feel a sharp stab of disappointment.

‘No. Thanks for the offer, Issie, but it’s late and I’ve got an early start tomorrow. I’ve got some things that need sorting at work. I just wanted to drop in and give the bike to Fletcher like I promised.’ Turning to Fletcher he added, ‘Keep the bike inside, okay, mate? You don’t want to have it stolen. I’ll take you out on the weekend, or one night after school, and get you on real tracks instead of the road.’

Fletcher nodded, wheeling the bike inside. ‘Thanks heaps, Matt.’

‘Goodnight, Issie. I promise we’ll make another time to catch up and talk. Just the two of us.’

He bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek, the stubble of his beard softer than Isabelle expected. It was a friendly gesture and she tried not to read anything into it, but when it grazed her skin, a jolt like electricity shot through her and her heart began to pound in her ears.

Matt pulled back. She suspected he’d felt it too.

*

As she was turning out lights and getting ready for bed, Fletcher called out. She entered his room and he shifted sideways to make room for her on the edge of his bed. His fingers plucked at an invisible spot on the blanket.

‘The bike’s cool,’ she said.

He nodded, eyes cast downwards.

‘You’re a lucky boy. I’m sure it’s worth a lot of money, so you must take good care of it.’

‘I will.’

Fletcher inhaled deeply and let his breath out in a rush, mumbling something Isabelle didn’t catch.

‘What did you say?’

‘I like Matt,’ he said quietly.

‘I’m glad. He’s a nice guy. I like Matt too.’

‘When he hugged you tonight—’

Her throat tightened. ‘Yes?’

‘I dunno. I guess, well, I guess it felt right, you know?’

‘I’m not sure I do know.’

‘Remember before we moved here I asked you if you’d ever get married again?’

Isabelle nodded. She remembered as if it were yesterday. ‘I promised you I wouldn’t do anything without your approval.’

‘Yeah, well, if you were ever going to marry again, someone like Matt would be okay.’

‘Daddy.
Daa-dd-y
.’

Matt woke with a fright very early the following Sunday morning to the sound of someone moaning. He sat bolt upright in bed, instantly alert, groping for his glasses on the bedside table. They weren’t in their usual place … and then he remembered. He wasn’t in his own bed. He was at Isabelle’s house. In Isabelle’s bed. He glanced over and saw her side of the bed was empty, and for a brief moment he forgot why he was there. Then he recalled. The day before, Isabelle had driven back to Geelong for meetings with the conveyancer and bank to sign papers and finalise the sale of her house. After much deliberation, she’d finally agreed to let him look after Fletcher and Mietta for the weekend.

The moaning intensified as Mietta appeared at his side, ghostlike in her pyjamas.

‘I was sick,’ she whimpered.

‘Oh no – oh, princess, are you okay now?’

‘I don’t feel so good.’

Matt fumbled until he found the light switch. They both blinked at the sudden brightness. He looked at Mietta and panic struck.
Why now?
He had assured Isabelle the kids would be fine. She’d trusted him to look after them. He gathered his racing thoughts and swung his legs out of the bed, glad he’d remembered to put boxers and a T-shirt on when he’d finally fallen into bed only hours earlier.

Mietta still stood in front of him, her white pyjama top clinging to her skin, soaked and smelling of vomit.

‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed.’

‘I can’t go back to bed,’ she moaned.

‘Yes, you can,’ he said softly.

She shook her head and her blonde curls danced around her pale face. ‘I was sick in my bed too.’

He scrunched up his face. ‘Did you throw up
in
your bed?’

She nodded again and tears trickled down her cheeks.

‘It’s all right,’ he said gently. ‘Come on, let’s get you tidied up.’

He scooped her up in his arms, oblivious to the stench coming off her. Placing her down gently in the middle of the bathroom, he ran the water in the shower until it was the right temperature.

‘Do you need to be sick again?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Can you hop in the shower then?’

She looked up at him forlornly and his heart broke. What was he supposed to do? She was only a six-year-old kid, but he didn’t think he should be watching her undress. She saved him from wondering what was appropriate as she lifted her arms, indicating he should pull her top over her head. She stepped out of her soaked pyjama bottoms and into the shower, her back to him. He breathed a quick sigh of relief.

‘I’m going to make your bed, okay?’

She nodded half-heartedly and he took it as agreement it was okay for him to leave her alone under the streaming water.

Her bedroom stank. Matt was grateful it was a warm night as he threw open the curtains and window to air the room. He stripped off her sheets and went in search of more linen. With all the noise he was making, he wasn’t surprised when Fletcher made an appearance.

He came out of his room, rubbing his eyes and frowning. ‘What time is it?’

‘Just after two.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Mietta’s been sick.’

Fletcher frowned. ‘Is she okay?’

‘I’ve got her in the shower, cleaning up,’ Matt said. ‘Head back to bed,’ he urged. ‘I’ll be right.’

Fletcher took the pile of sheets from Matt. ‘I’ll make the bed. You go and look after Mietta.’

Matt raised his eyebrows in surprise.

‘It’s the first time she’s been sick since Dad—’ He left his sentence unfinished.

‘Is she sick often?’ Matt asked.

Fletcher shook his head. ‘No. But Dad was always the one who looked after her.’

That explained why she was crying out for him. ‘Why?’

‘Mum can’t cope with vomit.’

Matt chuckled until he saw the expression on Fletcher’s face. It was obvious the boy was tripping back down memory lane and the thoughts were not pleasant ones.

‘But your mum’s a nurse – surely she should be able to handle vomit.’

Fletcher shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. All I know is if either of us were sick, it was always Dad who got up and looked after us.’

Matt laid a hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. ‘I promise I’ll take good care of her.’

Fletcher nodded solemnly. ‘I know you will.’ With that, he walked into Mietta’s room, carrying the load of sheets in front of him as if they were a precious treasure.

‘Mietta?’ Matt called out tentatively. ‘Are you okay in there?’ The water stopped. ‘You haven’t been sick again have you?’

‘I’m finished,’ came her pitiful reply.

Gingerly, Matt pushed open the bathroom door and was relieved to see her wrapped in an oversized towel, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Her hair was damp and the curls were frizzy coils around her face.

‘Want me to carry you back to bed?’

She nodded and he scooped her up again, taking her back to her room. He found clean pyjamas and handed them to her.

He turned his back and helped Fletcher finish making the bed. ‘Thanks, mate.’

Fletcher nodded and looked at his sister. ‘Do you want me to call Mum?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Matt is here. He’s looking after me.’

Matt ushered the now shivering Mietta into the freshly made bed. He closed the windows and curtains, then realised he should have a bowl or bucket ready in case she was sick again. He was about to head out of the room to find something when Fletcher returned, carrying a small white bucket. Mietta reached for it gratefully as if knowing its purpose. She settled back into the sheets, closed her eyes and was asleep instantly. Matt trudged back up the hallway to the kitchen and found Fletcher sitting at the table. It was obvious he wasn’t going back to bed.

‘Do you want a Milo?’

Fletcher’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes please.’

Matt busied himself making the drinks. After the milk had heated in the microwave, he scooped three heaped spoons of Milo into each mug.

Fletcher grinned. ‘Mum never lets me have this much.’

‘What your mum doesn’t know won’t hurt her!’ Matt replied with a wink.

They finished their drinks in silence. Fletcher rinsed his mug and left it on the sink. He was almost out the door when he turned back to face Matt. Tears had formed in his eyes. ‘Thanks, Matt.’ He paused. ‘For everything.’

‘If you ever want to talk, I’m here.’

As Matt was deliberating whether to go back to bed or call Isabelle, the unmistakable sound of retching came from Mietta’s room again. Grabbing a wet face-washer from the bathroom, he bounded in and found her leaning weakly over the bucket.

When she had finished she stared up at him with huge, hollow eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Matt.’

‘It’s okay,’ he whispered back.

‘I miss my daddy,’ she whimpered.

He wiped her clammy forehead with the flannel, his heart exploding with love for this child. She lay down on the pillow again, her eyes closed. He stroked her forehead gently, pushing the hair off her face and she was soon asleep. After he had cleaned up the bathroom and thrown the dirty linen in the washing machine, he couldn’t think of anything else to do but stay with her in case she needed him again. Grabbing the pillow and doona from Isabelle’s bed, he lay down on the carpet beside Mietta and tried to sleep.

She threw up twice more before the morning sun kissed the horizon. Each time she cried out for Matt, not her daddy, and he’d sat up instantly, rubbing her back until she had finished. There was nothing else he could do except encourage her to take tiny sips of fluid.

As the magpies began their warble outside, Matt decided it was safe to let Mietta sleep. He stretched his aching joints and headed for the shower. He tried calling Isabelle but got her voicemail. She was no doubt having her first sleep-in in months. He debated calling Leah, but she probably wouldn’t know what to do either. Isabelle would be worried sick when she woke and saw she had a missed call from him, so he sent a quick text to let her know everything was okay and asked her to call when she had a chance.

He checked on Mietta and found she was still asleep. Colour touched her cheeks and he saw by the rise and fall of her chest that she was sleeping peacefully. He stood watching her, wondering what to do. Should he take her to the doctor? He checked his watch before remembering it was Sunday. The clinic wouldn’t be open. He wished his mother was still alive – she’d tell him what to do. For a fleeting second he considered calling Rachel, but decided against it. He would never hear the end of it.

Alison!
She was back from Adelaide. She’d know how to make Mietta better.

Without considering the time, he found her number and dialled. ‘It’s Matt,’ he said when she answered cheerfully on the third ring. ‘I hope I didn’t wake you.’

‘I’m always up with the birds. Everything okay over at Isabelle’s place?’ Alison asked.

‘How did you know I was over here?’ The grapevine must have been on overdrive last night.

‘Relax, Matt. Isabelle told me you were staying to look after the kids. It’s not public knowledge. Now, what’s up?’

‘Mietta’s been throwing up all night.’

‘Is she still vomiting?’ Concern laced her voice.

Matt relaxed. Alison was the perfect person to call. He filled her in on his night.

‘You need to get fluids into her if possible, so she doesn’t get dehydrated. Once she can keep fluid down, you can try her on dry biscuits. Does Isabelle have Savoys or Saladas in the pantry?’

‘I’ll check. What about flat lemonade?’ He remembered his mother giving him that as a child.

‘Better to give her some Hydralyte,’ Alison replied.

‘Where do I get that from?’

‘Isabelle might have some already, but if not, I can meet you at the clinic and get you some from the supplies.’

He let out a frustrated sigh. ‘How do you know all this stuff? Is it because you’re a nurse?’

Alison’s laughter came across the line. ‘It’s because I’m a parent.’

He blew out another breath. ‘If you hadn’t answered I would have asked Doctor Google.’

‘I’m glad you called. It sounds to me like you’re doing everything right. How’s Fletcher? Is he sick too? If it’s gastro it could go through all of you.’

He screwed up his face and groaned. ‘I hope not.’

Alison laughed again. ‘Go and check the cupboards. I’ll hold on the line.’

Matt rifled through all of Isabelle’s cupboards, feeling strangely like he was snooping. There was no sign of anything called Hydralyte.

‘Check the freezer,’ she suggested.

‘The freezer?’

‘Yes, you put the little plastic strips into the freezer. They’re great for sick kids.’

He opened the door of the freezer and found what he was looking for – little icy poles.

‘Get Mietta to suck on one of those when she wakes up,’ Alison said. ‘She’ll let you know when she’s ready for something more. Good luck, Matt. At this rate, you’re going to make a fine dad one day.’

Alison hung up, leaving Matt speechless.

A weekend of parenting had turned out to be much more difficult than he had expected. It had nothing to do with dealing with a sick child, and everything to do with the way he’d fallen in love with Isabelle’s children. If he was being honest with himself, he’d fallen in love with Isabelle too. The question was, what was he supposed to do about it?