Paycheque (41 page)

‘It's what originally sold us on the place. The previous owners were clever enough to sell in autumn when there was water but it wasn't too cold and wet. Amy was a romantic through and through. So of course she fell in love with the idea of sitting out reading in the sun with the sound of water trickling around her.'

‘I'm not surprised. I would have too.'

‘Of course, romantic notions are all well and good until reality hits, aren't they?'

‘Oh?'

‘We've had a couple of close calls with floods. Maddie's old tack room is now home to a stack of sandbags all ready to go. And I have to pump out the cellar every few months.'

‘Cellar? Nice.'

‘Well not quite. But we'll leave that for another tour. It's a homemade job. Not by me – some idiot who just thought digging under the house and pouring a bit of concrete was enough. Didn't think about the watertable or the drainage. One day I'll get someone to deal with it properly. Or not – I've lived with it this long.'

The sun went behind the thick bank of clouds overhead, taking with it the heat Claire was enjoying on her back. Without it, it was a pretty chilly day. She shivered. She'd forgotten to grab her coat from her car before leaving the farm.

Derek put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on, it's too cold to be standing around out here.' He ushered her along the verandah to the front door. ‘Bad feng shui to have a guest enter through the back door.'

He put the key into the lock on the solid four-panelled door painted in the same rich red as the milk can mailbox. She wiped her feet on the mat and was just about to step over when her attention was caught by an enamel sign on the wall. She did a double take. It looked old and traditional like the coach light above it, but there was something different about it. She reread the wording carefully: ‘Friends welcome, family by appointment'.

‘Cute, huh?' Derek said.

‘Very.'

‘Maddie's doing – a present last Father's Day. Who was I to argue?'

Derek stepped aside to let Claire pass into the wide central hall with a red oriental runner stretching its length. Floorboards were visible either side of the carpet. He dropped his keys into a polished brass bowl atop the first of three narrow hallstands. Photo frames stood on the second, halfway down, and a large empty Japanese porcelain vase in blue and white was on the other at the far end.

‘Sorry, but not quite tidy enough to give you the full tour,' he said, nodding at the closed doors either side of them as they made their way down the hall.

‘These are lovely, Derek,' Claire said, pausing and looking around at the various watercolours and oil paintings adorning the walls.

‘Not my doing, I'm afraid. Amy was a bit of a whiz with decorating. I've left everything pretty much as it was. Because I like it, not out of holding onto the past or anything,' he added, looking Claire in the eye. He opened a door with etched glass panels at the end of the hall and stepped through onto a flagstone floor. To their left was an open-plan kitchen in tasteful but dated timber cabinetry and matching bench tops. To the right was a round rustic pine table and six high-backed chairs. Everything was tidy – nothing out of place. Claire found it hard to believe the rooms off the hall – no doubt bedrooms – were too untidy to be shown.

Derek continued forward, and they stepped down into a sunken living area, with huge modular sofas in worn brown velour taking up
two sides. ‘And now, let me present the best spot in the whole house in winter,' he said, opening his arms wide.

Claire looked around her. He was absolutely right. They were facing a bank of glass sliding doors overlooking the patio, and beyond it, the creek. Just then the sun came out from behind the clouds and flooded through the windows and across the floor to where they stood. Over to their left was a glass-fronted slow-combustion fire with glowing coals.

‘You sit there in the sun,' Derek said, pointing to the position closest to the windows, ‘and I'll just put some more wood on the fire.'

Claire did as she was told and sat, both watching Derek and taking in the rest of the space around her. She could see why he'd stayed on and left the décor unchanged after his wife had died.

Finished with the fire, he went to the kitchen. ‘Right. Would you prefer red or white wine?'

‘I'm not sure I should be drinking at all – I've got to drive later.'

‘Not for hours. And so do I. Just a glass or two. But don't feel pressured. I'm having a red myself, but I'm happy to open both.'

‘A glass of red would be nice, thanks.'

Derek brought the bottle and two glasses and put them down on the large antique trunk that served as a coffee table. ‘Feel free to kick your boots off and stretch out,' he said, offering her a glass of wine. ‘I'm just going to rustle us up some lunch.'

‘We're having frittata and salad. Hope that's okay,' he said, now back in the kitchen.

‘Perfect. Have you been baking, Derek?' she teased.

‘Now, when would I have had time to do that? No, this is courtesy of David. But I assure you, I can actually cook.'

‘I can't believe you've had time to organise lunch and light the fire and everything. You could have just given me directions to make my own way – saved you the trouble.'

‘Come on Claire, you wouldn't have come. You would have gone straight home for a nap. Which you can do here once we've eaten.'

Claire checked her watch.

‘Stop looking at your bloody watch – I've got everything under control.'

‘I know, but…'

‘But what? You don't trust me? Is that it?'

‘Well I've got…'

‘Claire, please just let yourself relax for a few hours. Indulge me – and yourself – will you?'

Claire sipped her wine. It was a nice rich Barossa red: thick and syrupy. She guessed it to be a Shiraz, given the peppery finish. She put the wine on the table, took off her boots and tucked her feet underneath her to warm them up. She stared across at the now blazing fire. The sun was still streaming in through the windows. Claire turned slightly so it could warm her back. She closed her eyes and drank in its heavenly heat, seeping through her clothes and into her bones. Moments later she detected movement and opened her eyes to see Derek standing before her holding cutlery and two plates piled high with food. Claire accepted a plate.

‘Bon appétit,' he said, sitting down with a plate on his lap.

‘Thank you. This looks great.'

‘I'm sure it will be, but as I said, I can't take the credit. Maybe next time.'

They exchanged smiles and clinked glasses.

‘Cheers.'

‘Cheers.'

Derek and Claire ate in silence for a few minutes until two ginger kittens – one pale and one dark – appeared in front of them stretching and yawning.

‘Ah, here they are. Where have you guys been?' Derek said. They looked him up and down for a moment, sniffed at the coffee table, and went over to the fire and lay down. ‘Isn't it amazing how much cats sleep?'

‘Apparently around twenty-two hours,' Claire said. ‘At least yours
don't seem to roar around in destruction mode for the other two hours like mine do.'

‘Oh, they do their fair share, let me assure you. They're probably just on their best behaviour because you're here.

Claire laughed at the kittens lying with their backs together in front of the fire. ‘Thanks, Derek, that was lovely,' she said, putting her empty plate down on the trunk.

‘Have you had enough? There's more there.'

‘I've had plenty thanks.'

‘More wine?' he asked, already holding out the bottle to her.

‘Thanks. But just half a glass,' she said, holding her glass out. ‘It's a nice one, I like it.'

‘It's not bad, is it? From just up the road.'

‘I think I'm going to take up your offer of a lie down,' Claire said, suddenly feeling sleepy. ‘Just half an hour or so.'

‘Good idea. I think I'll join you. On the other couch, I mean.'

Claire lay on her stomach so the sun was still on her back, and pulled the blanket draped over the back of the couch over her. Derek went to the couch opposite and, after kicking off his boots, lay down on his back. Claire thought to check the time and to set an alarm, but her arm felt too heavy to lift. The wine coursing through her, her full belly and the sun on her back saw her fall asleep before she could muster the energy.

Claire woke up. She lay with her eyes closed for a few seconds getting her bearings and remembering where she was. She could hear Derek breathing heavily nearby. But what was that other noise? Ah, the purr of two cats – very close. She lifted her head and found herself staring at the two kittens which were now curled up on the sofa, almost touching her head. Sensing her movement they opened their eyes, looked at her, and then shut them again.

Claire sat up. Outside the day was very grey. No sun shone through
the windows now. The fire was back to being a mass of glowing coals. She rubbed her face, trying to wipe away the grogginess. She wanted to lay back down and return to sleep. Instead she forced herself to check her watch: six o'clock. Surely she couldn't have been asleep for three hours.

Shit! They really had to get going. But Derek was still fast asleep. She sat on the edge of the couch and started putting her boots on.

‘Where do you think you're going?' Derek said, startling her.

‘Sorry to wake you, but I really have to get back.'

‘No, you don't.' Derek rolled over on the couch and lay facing her.

‘Yes I do. I'm already over an hour late. I've got horses to rug and feed.'

‘Someone else will do it.'

‘No, it's my turn.' Claire got up and went over and stood by the fire. She hoped Derek would take the cue to make a move to get up also. But he didn't. She was starting to get very annoyed.

‘Look, seriously, Derek, I have to get going.'

‘And I'm telling you: you don't, Claire. It's all organised.'

‘What are you talking about? What's all organised? What have you gone and done?'

‘Claire, calm down. The horses are being rugged and fed as we speak.'

‘But it's my turn.'

‘So you keep saying.'

‘Well who's feeding them? Maddie and Jack were going to get more feed – they weren't going to be back in time.'

‘Bernie's doing it. David's helping her.'

‘But it's my responsibility. You had no right to interfere.'

‘They were happy to help out. Claire, you're too tired. You need a break.'

‘Well now I'm pissed off as well!'

‘Claire, don't ruin a nice afternoon. It's done now.' Derek got up
and came over to where Claire stood. He tried to put his arm around her shoulder but she shrugged it off.

‘You had no right to go behind my back. Bernie and David aren't even horse people.'

‘Bernie seems to cope okay at the races and you've got all the feeds listed on the board in the shed. It's not exactly hard.'

‘That's not the point! You shouldn't impose on them.'

‘Claire, I'm sorry, okay? We were trying to help you out.'

‘Well Bernie should have known better. And I don't need any help.'

‘Sometimes, Claire McIntyre, you are your own worst enemy,' Derek said, shaking his head slowly.

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘Doesn't matter.'

‘No. You've said it now. Come on.' Claire stood with her back to the fire and her arms folded tight across her chest.

Derek sighed. ‘You're fighting everything. People who care about you try to make things easier and you just fight it for no reason. Accepting help every now and then doesn't show you're weak, Claire. It shows you're smart. Stop being so damn stubborn.'