The Model Wife

by Tricia Stringer

  Bronwyn and Karl didn’t have children then and their house was small. After a couple of days with fractious children and little sleep, Natalie had packed up her girls and driven home. The family that had waved her off had tried not to show their relief but she’d seen it, even on her parents’ faces. Her mum had been the one to encourage her to go home, saying the girls would soon settle in their own beds and give Natalie a chance to sleep too.

  This afternoon she’d seen that same look on her mother’s face as they’d said their goodbyes. “It was lovely to see you,” Althea had said, “but don’t feel you have to stay for long. We know how busy you are and we can manage, can’t we, Ray?”

  Her parents lived their lives perfectly well without her. She felt just as much an outsider here as she had in her own home.

  Twelve

  A whirlwind of leaves and dust whipped across the main street as Laura drove into town. She passed the pub on the corner, scene of many a get-together on weekends, basketball presentations, birthday dinners, and social events over the years. There were two other pubs but this one was her favourite. Bert Hinder had owned it for as long as she could remember. It didn’t look much from the outside but there was always a friendly welcome, a cold beer and hearty pub food available inside.

  She slowed at the intersection as a dusty four-wheel drive crossed in front of her towing a camper trailer. It pulled in at the shady grassed area beside the new toilet block. Being on one of the main routes between Adelaide and the popular tourist destination of the Flinders Ranges meant the town often had extra visitors.

  Laura continued on along the main drag, divided by a wide strip dotted with peppercorn trees, then pulled abruptly into an empty parking space in front of a small, freshly painted shop. She peered at the neat white building through her windscreen. It was a shoe shop. That hadn’t been there last time she was home. She got out and glanced at the smart styles displayed in the window. Eight o’clock on a Monday morning was too early for anything to be open, except the school and the coffee shop – and she was here for both. She dragged her gaze from the shoes and moved on, stopping in front of the hairdressing salon. She glanced around. There was not another soul in the street. She put a hand to the window of the hairdressers and peered in.

  She took in the fresh white walls and the floating wood floor. The interior had been made over since she’d been in last. Gone were the large black-and-white linoleum and the hot-pink swivel chairs. Now it had a rustic but modern look with square black armchairs on large silver bases, mirrors surrounded by wide silver frames and track lighting fitted above each station. She liked it, and found herself wondering if they needed staff. She didn’t know the owner but one of her old school friends still worked here.

  A car burbled along the street behind her. A shiver wriggled down her spine. She spun around. It had sounded like Kyle’s fancy Subaru but the car was a different colour. Silly to be jumping at shadows but he’d given her a fright outside the gym. She was thankful again she’d never told him much about home and they hadn’t been together long enough for her to bring him for a visit.

  She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets and moved on past the stone facade of the bank. At least they still had a bank, unlike a lot of other small country towns. A few leaves swirled at her feet as she made her way along the footpath towards the cafe, which was definitely open judging by the number of cars parked out the front and the colourful banner that fluttered in the brisk morning breeze above the tables and chairs set on the edge of the footpath. Laura’s first job of the day after clearing up the breakfast dishes had been to run her mother’s teaching notes in to the school. Her mum had also left a list of top-up vegies to buy at the supermarket. But first a real coffee.

  She reached for the door handle just as the door flew open. She smiled. The guy with the surprised look smiled back.

  “Laura, hello,” he said.

  “Hi, Owen. In for a caffeine hit?”

  “Sure am.”

  Another bloke came up behind Owen, wanting to get out. They both stepped to one side. Owen peered over her shoulder. “On your own?”

  “Yep.” She grinned. “Bree’s on shed duties. Mum’s away. There’s still mustering to be done and the boss-man has us all on a roster. Are you coming out for a meal this week?” Laura wasn’t sure how often her sister met up with her boyfriend. “I’m in charge of food so you may wish to back out if you are.”

  “Sounds like your dad might appreciate another male at the table.”

  “Wouldn’t we all?” Laura gave him a cheeky grin and Owen laughed. She could see why Bree liked him – besides his good looks Laura got the impression he was also fun. One of the downsides to returning home would be the shortage of guys.

  “I’ve got a busy week ahead. I’ll let Bree know which night I can come out.”

  “Great.” Laura watched him saunter away, then turned and walked smack-bang into another man coming out of the coffee shop. His cup squashed against his chest and a brown stain spread across his white shirt and deepened the blue of his tie before the takeaway cup fell to the ground at their feet, splattering his shiny black lace-up shoes.

  “I’m so sorry,” she wailed, flailing pathetically at the fabric as he tried to tug it away from his skin. “Are you scalded?”

  “No.” He had the shirt between his fingers now, flapping it in and out. “Milk coffee. Not too hot.”

  He was a head and shoulders taller than her so when he lifted his face to look at her he was still looking down. She knew she was gaping but she couldn’t help herself. His thick dark hair was gelled back from his forehead in a luxurious up-swirl as if he’d just stepped out of a salon, and his eyes stared back at her through a set of large blue aviator glasses. He flapped the shirt again then bent to retrieve the all-but-empty cup just as she bent down too, and her cap fell off.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again as she shoved the cap firmly back on her head. “I should buy you a new shirt.” She grimaced. “If there was anywhere in town I could get one from, we don’t run to…” She could tell the shirt was expensive. The only men’s clothing available in town was country workwear. “…fancy menswear here,” she finished lamely.

  “I’ll go home and change.”

  “Let me at least buy you a replacement coffee.” Laura wasn’t keen to let him go just yet. Not without finding out his name. “My name’s Laura…”

  “I’m running late. Please don’t worry.” He looked flustered now, as if he’d been the one to tip coffee down the front of her.

  “Another day then?”

  “Sure. I have to go.” He spun away.

  “Do you at least have a name?”

  “Sorry…it’s Paul, Paul Brown.”

  “Nice to meet you, Paul, and I’m sorry about the coffee.” Laura waggled a finger at his stained shirt.

  An alarm sounded from his pocket. He tugged out his phone and stabbed at the screen. “Sorry,” he said again. “I have to go.” He spun on his heel and hurried away.

  Laura watched as he climbed into a new-looking RAV4. She wondered where he worked. To her knowledge he wasn’t a local and dressed like that…perhaps the bank, an accountant or something to do with the hospital. Maybe he was only in town for the day. She felt a pang of disappointment. She’d been quick enough to notice there was no wedding band on the hand that had clutched the cup. New local talent was hard to find. Her lucky sister had snared one of the few recent arrivals.

  The RAV4 sped off down the street and Laura’s face lit up in a slow grin as she recalled his brief words. He’d said he was going home to get changed. With any luck that meant he lived in town. She needed to find out more about Mr Paul Brown.

  Kate tucked her phone back into her jeans pocket. She’d tried to ring Sean last night with no luck and this morning his phone had gone straight to voicemail again. There was phone reception at the shack but it wasn’t reliable and as soon as she got out to the paddock she’d lose coverage too.

  She
’d spoken to him the night she’d arrived to let him know she’d made it safely, full of chat about Laura’s rainbow-coloured hair and interrupting Bree’s dinner with her new fella. Sean had been interested in Owen, pleased to know there might be at least one more bloke at family gatherings. He’d called her Friday before he’d left for the shack with last-minute queries about where the spare torch was and his new fishing rod. She’d smiled at that. She doubted they’d get any fishing done.

  She made her way across the yard to the ute. Dragged herself really. She was the last to leave the house. Laura had gone to town early, Graeme and her dad had already left for the paddock and Bree was working on something in another shed somewhere. Bree loved to be outside. She would happily fix a dodgy pump, change a tyre, muster stock, help a ewe deliver a lamb; whatever it took to work the property.

  The three of them had been brought up in the same house and yet they were all so different. Kate liked to think she was practical and she didn’t mind getting her hands dirty but she preferred inside work. She was happiest in the office of Sean’s family business but also enjoyed being on the road with him, helping with stock-work from time to time. And then there was Laura, who didn’t like sheep and showed her creative talents with hair and make-up. Sometimes that extended to cooking too, but she would still get outside and help if she had to.

  Several sharp bangs echoed from the storage shed. Bree was no doubt taking out her frustration at being banned from the paddock, whereas Kate struggled to find some enthusiasm for the day’s work ahead. Mustering wasn’t a job she enjoyed and her energy levels were still low in spite of plenty of sleep. She was beginning to think maybe there was something wrong with her. She’d have talked to her mum about it but she’d be gone all week.

  Once again her hand slipped over the bulge of her phone. Hearing Sean’s voice would be a tonic. She wanted to know how his blokes’ weekend had gone. No doubt he’d be full of Damo stories to make her laugh. Damo really was an accident waiting to happen.

  She stopped mid-stride. Maybe something had gone wrong and that’s why she couldn’t reach Sean. She allowed a brief niggle of concern to rise before she pushed it away and set off again. He was a truck driver, on the road a lot, and she’d learned not to worry. When he was away overnight he rang her from wherever he was regardless but a weekend at the shack with his mates was a different thing. He’d have had plenty to drink and be distracted by his mates. Sean was usually a sensible bloke, she never doubted his reliability, and the rational explanation for his lack of communication was that he was sleeping off a big weekend or perhaps was somewhere out of range. He’d know she’d be waiting to hear from him.

  Bree tossed her phone on the bed, sad to let go of the brief connection she’d had with Owen. He was putting in long hours at the garage, getting caught up on as much work as he could, and packing up his house. He’d suggested they catch up Thursday night. She’d thought he meant in town. She had to go in to the doctor Thursday afternoon to have the stitches removed, but Owen had mentioned Laura’s offer of a meal.

  “You could stay the night again,” she’d said and he hadn’t hesitated to agree.

  Bree belatedly thought about the logistics of that then berated herself. She was twenty-eight and had her own quarters. If she wanted to share her bed with her boyfriend she damn well would.

  She did a slow stretch, conscious of the slight tug of the wound on her injured leg. It had been a bit tender when she’d finished her day getting everything sorted in the sheds but since she’d showered and laid down on her bed to talk to Owen it had settled again. She was sure she’d be right to get back out into the paddock for mustering tomorrow.

  Before she reached the kitchen she heard banging. Laura looked up as she entered, a meat mallet poised mid-air.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Bree asked.

  Laura grinned. “Making pork schnitzels.”

  Bree wandered closer. The length of the bench was covered, as was usual when Laura cooked; egg shells dribbled gooey trails of white across the bench, which was scattered with small jugs, bowls and cups, and flour overflowed from a plate onto the work surface. Laura’s meals had been enjoyable so far but she made a hell of a mess preparing them. Bread slices fell forward from an open bag beside the food processor. Bree picked the bag up, found the tag under the butter tub, twisted the top and slipped the tag back in place.

  “Don’t think I’ve had a pork schnitzel before.” She watched as Laura took a piece of the meat she’d been hammering, dredged it in flour then slipped it into a bowl of beaten egg. “Mum usually buys chicken or beef ready made from the butcher. Looks like a process.”

  “Not that bad.” Laura dropped the viscous meat onto a plate and smothered it with a breadcrumb mix. “Spritzi’s mum makes the pork ones from scratch, just like her Oma made them, and they’re delicious. The butcher in town had pork loin steaks on special so I thought I’d give them a go.”

  “Do you need help?” Bree preferred to keep out of the way of food prep but as the only other person present she felt obliged to offer, like she did with her mum, but Natalie rarely accepted help.

  “I’m fine with the food. I’ve made a potato salad to go with it and a green salad. Maybe you could set the table.” She blew a wisp of wayward red and yellow hair from her face, rubbed her shoulder against the tip of her nose and grinned. “You can help when it comes to cleaning up.”

  Bree shook her head and went to the fridge in search of a beer. “Where are Dad and Kate?”

  “Kate’s up in her room, I think. She had a shower a while ago, and Dad hasn’t come in yet. He’s doing something with Jack.” Laura raised her neatly textured eyebrows. “Who is staying for dinner again, by the way.”

  Bree ignored the question in her sister’s look. She had no more idea why her dad was so chummy with Jack than Laura did. She couldn’t put it all down to his parents still being in Adelaide. Jack had been over to their place on several occasions prior to his mother’s diagnosis. Not for meals or cups of coffee but paddock work and sheep inspections. Bree waved a beer at her sister. “You want one?”

  “No thanks. I’m going to make a Floradora in a minute.”

  “Do you wear it, eat it or drink it?”

  “Drink it. Gin, lime, raspberry and ginger ale. It’s divine. I’ll make you one.”

  Bree screwed up her nose and popped the top off her beer. “I think I’ll stick to what I know.”

  Laura had finished her food prep and prepared her fancy drink when Kate arrived in the kitchen. Bree stared at her. “Make-up! I hope that’s not because Jack’s coming for dinner again.”

  “I didn’t know Jack was coming for dinner.” Kate’s response was snappish. “What’s that?”

  Laura had placed a tall glass on the table.

  Kate leaned in to inspect the pretty pink drink, which sported a segment of lime on the rim. “Since when do we run to lime out here?”

  “It’s a Floradora. Mum’s got gin in the storeroom and I bought the other ingredients this morning when I was in town. Do you want one?”

  “No thanks.” Kate headed for the fridge. “I’ll stick to beer.”

  “Have either of you heard of a guy called Paul Brown?” Laura asked.

  Kate withdrew a beer, then swapped it for a lemonade and joined them at the table. “Nope.”

  Bree put her head to one side. “The name rings a bell.”

  “Tall, dark-brown hair, glasses.” Laura wriggled those carefully brushed eyebrows of hers up and down again. “He lives in town.”

  “Oh yeah. If it’s the guy I think it is he’s Mum’s new boss. I’ve seen him but never actually met him.” Paul was rather forgettable in Bree’s opinion. A bit of an odd one out in the community. Didn’t play sport, though she’d seen him occasionally at the pub on a Friday night with some of the school staff. “Don’t think she fancies him much.”

  “Ooo.” Laura’s button nose wrinkled. “Thank goodness. He’s way too young for her.”


  “Not to mention she’s already married to our dad,” Kate said.

  “I thought he was…” Laura twirled her fingers in the air. “Attractive in an intellectual kind of way.”

  Bree gave a snort. “Each to their own.”

  Laura turned away. “Hey, speaking of hunks, Kate, did you see that picture of Sean on Facebook?” She started scrolling on her phone.

  Kate placed her lemonade on the table untouched. “He barely looks at Facebook, let alone posts photos.” A slight frown creased her brow.

  “I think he was tagged in it.” Laura hunched over her phone, which was gripped in both hands now. “Yes, there it is. He’s got the cutest little baby in his arms and the woman peering over his shoulder isn’t a bad looker.”

  Bree and Kate leaned forward to look at the phone. It was indeed a photo of Sean sitting in a deck chair grinning widely for the camera. He was holding an adorable baby dressed in a pink growsuit, and the woman wasn’t just looking over his shoulder. Her chin was resting on it.

  “I have no idea who that is.” Kate sat and pulled her own phone from her pocket.

  “Her name’s Erin Fleming. She’s from Port Lincoln.”

  Bree shook her head just as Laura looked up.

  “What?” Laura said. “If she’s got my brother-in-law on her page I can stalk her.”

  “That’s why I don’t do Facebook.” Bree slid into a chair and propped her leg on the vacant seat beside her.

  “You do.”

  Bree shook her head. “I deleted my account last year.”

  Kate and Laura both looked up from their phones.

  “You see. You didn’t even notice. I have a real life, not a virtual one.”

  Laura rolled her eyes and looked back at her phone. “There’re more photos, Kate. Looks like Sean had a party weekend. Is that…” Laura tipped her head to one side and peered closer. “Is that Sean’s friend Damo sitting in an esky with a fish-shaped hat on his head? It’s hard to tell.”