Broken (16 page)

‘What're you going to talk about?' asked Courtney suspiciously.

‘You,' said Mattie shortly. ‘Now go.'

‘Mrs Hampton, take a seat,' Miss Thomson closed the door firmly
behind Courtney and gestured at one of the child-sized plastic chairs that had been placed neatly on top of a small, formica-topped table. She took one down for herself from the other side and sat, facing Mattie, with a foolscap folder in front of her.

‘Comfy aren't they?' observed Mattie with a grin as she wedged herself into the chair, her knees bent awkwardly.

‘Yes,' Miss Hampton grinned back. ‘But if you'd been one of my, well, larger mothers, I wouldn't even have asked you to sit there.'

‘Then I'll take it as a compliment.'

‘Okay.' The teacher smiled again and then, opening the folder, abruptly turned businesslike. ‘I wanted to discuss something with you that –'

‘Is there a problem?' interrupted Mattie, for the first time feeling a sense of foreboding. ‘I thought Courtney was doing really well.'

‘She
is
,' Miss Thomson said quickly ‘In fact, she's a joy to teach. Clever, well-organised, popular – she's one of my most reliable and responsible students. In that respect, I wish more were like her.'

‘But in other respects?' prompted Mattie apprehensively.

‘Yes, there we have it.' The teacher sighed softly and went back to her notes. After a moment she looked up again. ‘And it's hard to put into words, which is why I haven't spoken to you sooner. Even though I've been aware of the, ah, problem for some time.'

‘And what
is
the problem?'

‘To put it bluntly, Courtney is manipulative.
Very
manipulative. At first I thought she was just getting her own way all the time because she's a natural leader rather than a follower, but it's more than that. She manipulates the others, very cleverly, and if it looks like her control is slipping, even a trifle, I'm afraid she becomes a bit of a bully.'

‘A bully?'

‘Unfortunately yes. She seems to have an intuitive grasp of the other children's vulnerabilities and uses them to her advantage. Let me give you an example.' Miss Thomson folded her hands on top of her notes and looked at Mattie intently ‘The other day I gave the children a task in which they had to glue various pieces of material to a sheet of paper. Anyway, Courtney was particularly keen on this sequinned scrap that another girl had. Now this child is one of those shy ones who find it
difficult to mix well. So, after she refused to hand it over, Courtney simply threatened to exclude her from their lunchtime games.'

‘And she got what she wanted?' asked Mattie, rather blankly.

‘Yes, she got what she wanted. And I know my example sounds rather petty, but it's actually very indicative. Mind you, Courtney's quite willing to get more personal too. I've heard her pick on the other children's weight, or glasses, or what-have-you, simply to achieve her own ends.'

‘You don't like her,' stated Mattie suddenly.

‘What? Oh, no.' For the first time, Miss Thomson seemed flustered. ‘That's not true at all. Besides, I wouldn't let personal feelings intrude on my professionalism. I'm telling you this because I want to
help
Courtney, not attack her.'

‘Whatever.' Mattie looked at her rather narrowly and then, with a sigh, broke eye contact. What did it matter if the teacher didn't like the child when the issue was Courtney herself? Then she thought of something even worse and looked up quickly ‘Is she violent? I mean, this bullying, does she get aggressive?'

‘No, no.' Miss Thomson shook her head, obviously pleased to report something positive. ‘Never. I mean she
can
get verbally aggressive, but never physical.'

‘Good,' said Mattie with relief. She smoothed down her jeans and stood up, pushing the small chair down. ‘Was there anything else, or was that it?'

‘Ah, that's it.' Miss Thomson looked up at her with some surprise.

‘Well, thank you very much for bringing it to my attention.' Mattie smiled politely ‘I'll speak to my husband and we'll deal with it.'

‘I don't think it's as simple as that.'

‘Well, we'll soon find out. And please don't hesitate to contact me should any other problems arise.' Mattie picked up the chair and placed it neatly on top of the table as Miss Thomson rose from the other side, staring down at her notes as if it contained hints on how to deal with parents who end interviews too soon.

Mattie washed her hands briskly at one of the drinking tap fountains and then shook them dry as she went to find her children. They were in the far playground, where both were clambering over the
climbing frame with the agility of small monkeys. There were few other children around by now. Most were probably already home, sitting at a kitchen counter eating afternoon tea. Happy, healthy, and secure. Mattie stood watching her two pensively. She thought about what she had just been told, and realised she wasn't all that surprised. Only the words had come as a jolt – manipulative, bully, verbally aggressive. And she wished she'd thought to ask Miss Thomson whether Courtney's behaviour had worsened over the past couple of weeks. But, then again, maybe it was just as well she hadn't, because she didn't really want to know the answer.

The next crack in the facade appeared in her bank account sometime in the early hours of Thursday morning. Her first complete Centrelink payment. The week before she had received a partial payment so, while the money had been handy, she'd ignored the actual amount as irrelevant. But Thursday's mail brought confirmation of exactly what she would be receiving each week, and it quite simply wasn't enough. After paying her rent she would have very little left to pay for groceries, electricity, gas, phone, prescriptions, swimming lessons, petrol and all the other incidentals that laid claim to her purse each week. Heaven help her if the car broke down, or they had a run of ill-health.

And there were only two things she could do about it. One was to start looking for a job immediately but, for many reasons, Mattie cringed at the thought. The children, child care, fear of the unknown, lack of suitable clothing, doubts regarding her ability to cope and, last but by no means least, Jake's reaction should she contemplate such a step. He would hate it. Mattie took a deep breath and shook her head. Maybe in a few months, when she was stronger, and their relationship was more secure.

The other, and more realistic option was to ask Jake for some child support. A month ago she'd been eager to agree to almost anything to clear the road and, given the fact they would be sharing custody, it seemed to make sense to simply ignore any extra financial support, either way. But the reality was that she was the one who would have
to buy them clothing, and pay for their activities, and schooling – and all the other myriad expenses that came with young children. It made perfect sense that he contribute something to these expenses, because simply feeding them and keeping them entertained for a few days a week just didn't measure up.

The necessity to speak to Jake about this was uppermost in her mind as she collected the children on Thursday afternoon and drove them to the house. Jake wasn't expected for another hour so she fixed a snack for Max and Courtney and then wandered around, tidying an ornament here and a cushion there. It was strange how out of place she felt, so quickly. After all, only three weeks ago this had been her home and now she felt almost intrusive, like a visitor passing through.

The house was very open plan, with a wide, virtually wall-less passage leading from the front door all the way to the kitchen, with rooms jutting off it. The family room and then kitchen to the right, and the study, lounge-room and meals area to the left. Then, down at the far end of the house were the bedrooms and bathroom. Mattie already knew that the passage was exactly fifteen measured steps from the entrance to the kitchen, and also how many steps divided each room from the other.

Max and Courtney settled down in front of the television in the lounge-room to play video games, so Mattie watched them silently for a while. Then she wandered off again, pausing at the family room sliding door to look out at the patio, where the cedar setting sat neatly, all the chairs pushed in, and the barbecue gleamed with a pewter sheen. A slight breeze ruffled through the pot-plants and caused the nearest hanging plant to brush its spiky tendrils against the glass with an irritating scratchy sound. Mattie stared out expressionlessly and then turned to glance at the double window set in the other wall, where her two children had stood, faces pressed against the glass and eyes wide.

Mattie shook herself quickly before she became maudlin. It didn't pay to dwell on what couldn't be undone, because there was no benefit at all. On her way out of the room, she stopped to gaze at the Margaret Olley print that hung on the wall by the door. They had purchased the limited edition still life, of oranges overflowing a wicker basket, early in
their marriage, as an investment. And Mattie loved it. It had a tranquillity that brought comfort, while still possessing an intensity that was compelling. And it was the coexistence of these two seeming opposites, this placid vibrancy, that she loved the most, because it offered visual proof that conflicting traits could actually enhance rather than detract.

Mattie ran a finger gently over one corner of the painting, feeling the textured surface of the print. Then she sighed and turned away, heading back to the lounge-room and intending to settle on the couch until Jake returned. On the way she passed the linen cupboard and, hit with a sudden idea, opened it to look for the box containing an embroidered tablecloth given to them by one of her elderly aunts for their wedding. It would be perfect to cover her old pine table for the Whimsicalities party next weekend. Mattie found the flattish, oblong box easily, sliding it out and removing the lid to ensure the cloth was still within. The deep crimson of its embroidered roses and the coral-pink of one scalloped edge were visible through the white tissue paper that protected it.

She closed the box again and took it down to the kitchen bench, placing it next to her handbag, and then wandered back into the lounge-room. But no sooner had she sat down than Jake's burgundy Commodore pulled smoothly into the driveway and coasted past her car into the carport. Mattie smoothed down her jeans and then looked up and saw Courtney watching her, almost appraisingly. Just as their eyes met, Jake's key could be heard scraping in the lock and the girl jumped up as her father appeared in the passage.

‘Daddy!' Courtney launched herself at her father as if it had been weeks since she'd seen him rather than just days. He lifted her up and kissed her heartily.

Max waved. ‘Hey Dad.'

‘Hey to you too, mate.' Jake put Courtney down and turned to Mattie. ‘And hello there, good-looking. Want to come and give me a hand with tea?'

‘Sure.' Mattie got up and followed him down to the kitchen, where he stopped long enough to grab her by the shoulders and give her a slow kiss.

‘Ah, that's better.' Jake smiled at her, his eyes crinkling.

‘I'd have to agree.' Mattie grinned back, feeling light and loved. ‘Now, what do you need?'

‘Nothing, actually. It's all under control. I just wanted your company.'

‘Easily done.' Mattie sat up on one of the stools lining the bench and settled down to watch Jake produce the meal.

‘Now, first a wine for the lady.' Jake took a bottle from the fridge and uncorked it with a hollow pop. He half filled two glasses and passed one to her. ‘And now for some dinner magic'

Mattie watched Jake as he opened the fridge and removed some foil-wrapped garlic bread and then her large cast-iron saucepan. He turned on the oven and put the saucepan on a hotplate at a simmer. The thought that he'd already prepared this meal, probably last night, made Mattie feel soft with pleasure.

‘Spaghetti bolognaise?' she hazarded.

‘Yes, ma'am.' Jake filled another saucepan with water and put it on an adjoining hotplate.

‘Lovely.' Mattie took a sip of wine. ‘How was your day anyway?'

‘Pretty shitty, actually.' Jake stopped long enough to drink some of his own wine. He smacked his lips appreciatively. ‘But I'm making a valiant attempt to rise above that.'

‘Good,' said Mattie with sincerity.

‘How's your week been then?'

‘Good,' said Mattie again. ‘Quiet.'

‘Same here.' Jake put a lid on the saucepan and turned its handle out, away from the hotplates. ‘But it did give me a chance to get some gardening done. I've turned over the earth down at that far corner. Thought I might make a vegetable patch. What do you think?'

‘That's a great idea!' said Mattie enthusiastically. ‘Do you need any help?'

‘I wouldn't say no. I'll take you down there after tea and show you what I've done so far.' Jake moved Mattie's bag to the far end of the island bench-top and then frowned at the oblong box. ‘What's that tablecloth doing out?'

‘Oh, I was just going to borrow it. For my thing next weekend.'

Jake paused, looking across at her. ‘I thought we agreed the wedding presents stayed here. Except for the blanket, that is.'

‘Oh, yes,' said Mattie quickly, ‘I just wanted to borrow it, that's all.'

‘Well, no offence but I'd rather you waited till I was home. It gives me the creeps to think of you rifling through all the cupboards while I'm not here.'

‘I did
not
rifle,' exclaimed Mattie, stung by the injustice. ‘I just wanted to borrow it! For one day!'

‘I'd still rather you waited, if you don't mind.' Jake ran his hand over the box and then looked at her expressionlessly. ‘After all, for this year it's my house. That was the deal, wasn't it?
Your
deal?'