Jilted

by Rachael Johns

  She blew her nose and splashed water on her face. She didn’t want to use emotional blackmail by going to Mat looking like a wreck, she wanted to present reasoned and sincere arguments. Yet when she entered Mat’s room a moment later, all thoughts of these evaporated.

  Ellie swallowed at the sight before her. Mat looked even greyer and more listless than yesterday. The scene tore at Ellie’s heart. She forced herself to breathe, to try to act as normal as possible as she approached the bed.

  ‘Morning gorgeous,’ Matilda managed, reaching out for Ellie’s hand.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘On top of the world,’ she joked, sounding surprisingly chirpy.

  ‘Good.’ Ellie took the chair next to the bed. She didn’t quite know what to say. If she wasn’t going to confront Mat, should she just pretend everything was peachy?

  ‘I’m sorry, Els.’ Mat looked deep into her eyes.

  ‘It’s your decision, my darling.’ She sniffed but amazingly held back the tears.

  ‘You’ve always been such a sweet thing,’ Mat said, stroking Ellie’s hair. ‘I remember this time when you were five years old. We were at a Christmas party.’

  Ellie knew the story well – not so much through her own memory, as by Matilda’s recounting of it – but settled back to listen to Matilda reminisce. It was much better than contemplating the inevitable, and she wanted to hoard as many memories as she could.

  ‘You were so in tune with animals, you wanted to help them even if they didn’t need helping.’

  ‘I vaguely remember,’ Ellie said. ‘Mum had just broken up with Dad Number Two, and was looking to get back in contact with everyone.’

  ‘That’s right. Rhiannon had brought you to see us all. What a cherub you were. It broke my heart to see how roughly she treated you.’ There was a meaningful pause. ‘Anyway, the people who were having the party had just gotten a kitten and you were besotted with it. But no sooner had you caught it than you walked straight into the swimming pool. Everyone was screaming – one man even jumped in to save you.’ Matilda’s chuckle was hoarse and weak. ‘All you were worried about was the poor, bedraggled cat.’

  ‘I always wanted a cat,’ Ellie mused.

  ‘You could have one in your flat, couldn’t you?’

  ‘Probably, but it never seemed fair getting one. I’m out all the time. Maybe one day.’

  ‘If you moved back here you could have fifty cats.’

  Ellie laughed. ‘One, what would I do with fifty cats, and two, what would I do here?’ She was glad she hadn’t mentioned to anyone the idea of staying to teach acting. When Mat was gone, she wouldn’t have any reason to hang around, even if she wished, more than anything, that things were different. Changing the subject, she said, ‘Tell me about that time you went to Mumbai and auditioned for a Bollywood film.’

  Ellie thought Matilda would have been a great hit in the world of showbiz – she was sure of it – but as her godmother then recounted, she’d missed out on the part, moving on to other creative pursuits.

  Over the next few days, more memories and stories were exchanged between the two. Matilda’s closest friends came to visit, but nothing like the stream of visitors she’d had when people first found out about her illness. This relieved Ellie, giving them more quality time together. Joyce and Eileen took turns giving Ellie breaks – even though Mat slept much of the time, they didn’t want her to be alone, and she seemed content to have them by her side even if she were too tired to converse. Ellie only left the hospital to go home, wash and change her clothes. She lived on cheese sandwiches made by the kitchen staff at the hospital. That and cheap hospital coffee. She hadn’t checked her email or Facebook for days, and she asked Dwayne and her Sydney friends to give her some space. She didn’t know what was happening in Hope Junction, never mind the world outside it. She didn’t care.

  Somehow Ellie managed to stay strong while Matilda went rapidly downhill. Without antibiotics, Mat went into heart failure more quickly than she would have with only the cancer. The nurses did their best to keep her comfortable, but she stopped eating, and even with the morphine, she was sometimes overwrought with pain. Every time Mat tried to cover a wince or a cringe, Ellie’s own bones ached. This woman had done everything for her and now she could do nothing to ease her suffering.

  She knew Mat’s torment wouldn’t be for long, though. The nurses were careful not to pinpoint an exact date, but everyone accepted its imminence. Their focus now was simply letting her die in peace.

  Ellie spent the final day sitting next to Matilda, holding her hand and stroking her hair. Mat managed a few jumbled words here and there, but was basically out of it due to the high dosage of painkillers. Despite this, and despite knowing how little time they had, Ellie was still shocked when that last breath was taken.

  Her fingers, linked as they were with Mat’s, stilled. Her own breathing stopped momentarily, and a cold crept to the ends of her limbs. She’d not seen a dead person before, much less witnessed someone die. It was strangely peaceful. Surreal. Swallowing, she looked down at Mat, feeling a bone-deep sadness that she’d never experienced before.

  She didn’t get up and tell the nurse right away. She wanted some time with the best stand-in mother a girl could ever have, before she was finally taken away from her. Ellie kissed Mat’s cheek, and both her hands, and then leaned over and hugged her.

  ‘I love you, Matilda Thompson. I’ll always love you.’

  She stayed like that until Lauren found her.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Tapping out an email at the computer, Flynn started a little when his mobile rang. He glanced down at the caller ID and rolled his eyes.

  Lauren.

  He thought he’d been quite clear that nothing could happen between them. Why did she insist on prolonging the agony? He toyed with ignoring the call, but then decided it might be easier to just answer.

  ‘Flynn Quartermaine.’

  ‘Hi Flynn.’ Lauren sounded subdued. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Not bad, just doing some books. You?’ The small talk was inane, and he wondered when she’d get to the point.

  ‘I’m okay, but I’m not calling for me.’ She paused a moment. ‘Matilda just passed away.’

  ‘Oh. Fuck.’ He should have been expecting the news, not that it would have lessened the shock.

  ‘I won’t pretend Ellie’s my favourite person,’ Lauren continued, ‘and this might confuse things, but in a professional capacity, I’m worried about her. I don’t think she’s got anyone else.’

  Flynn was already out of his seat, tugging on his boots. ‘How’s she coping?’ he asked, the phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder.

  ‘Not sure.’ Lauren lowered her voice, as if she didn’t want other people to hear. ‘On the surface she seems totally fine – hasn’t shed a single tear and is acting very matter-of-factly, talking about arrangements and so forth. But I’m not buying it.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s not a professional actress for nothing,’ Flynn said. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’ That would be driving fast, but some things were more important than speed limits.

  When Flynn entered the hospital, a sombre mood hung in the air. The receptionist gave him a regretful smile and nodded down the corridor. He started along it just as a stretcher, covered in a white sheet, was wheeled out of one of the rooms. His breath hitched in his throat and a chill scuttled down his spine. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he saw that Lauren was at one end of the stretcher and an orderly was at the other. He stepped back to let them ease Matilda past, and then noticed Ellie in the doorway.

  She stood there, frozen like a beautiful ice sculpture, her arms hugging her body as she stared after the stretcher. Although her eyes were trained in his general direction, they appeared vacant. He understood. Ellie’s whole world had just shifted. He could only imagine the paralysis he’d have felt if he’d actually seen his dad off. He didn’t know whether or not he should feel anythi
ng for her, but he had to admit he did. When she ached, dammit, so did he.

  Joyce came out of the room and stopped alongside Ellie. She placed her hand on Ellie’s arm and murmured something to her, but Ellie didn’t respond. Noticing Flynn, Joyce shrugged at him, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

  He nodded back. Joyce made herself scarce and he walked over to Ellie. He put an arm around her shoulders and led her into the visitor room, closing the door behind them. Ellie was in a daze, seemingly confused, glancing around and blinking a few times. Then her eyes landed on Flynn. He saw the first sign of recognition there. And a vulnerability few souls ever glimpsed.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s true,’ she whispered.

  He wished he could tell her it wasn’t. His mum always teased him about his protective side (and Lucy called it stifling), but in moments like these, he just followed his instinct.

  ‘I know,’ he said. Then, unable to offer any words that would hold true comfort, he pulled her into a hug. She was warm and soft, all the things he remembered from that night outside the pub and their many times together in the past. As her head fell onto his shoulder, he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. It wasn’t silky or freshly washed, and it didn’t smell of floral or citrus shampoo – it simply smelled of Ellie. And he couldn’t help but like it.

  Then he reminded himself where he was and how inappropriate these thoughts were. Ellie sniffed, and he braced himself for tears, the tears of which she’d no doubt cry rivers.

  But she didn’t cry. Instead, the pair stayed in the visitor room, simply holding each other, his hand on the back of her head, for what seemed like an hour. So many thoughts ran through Flynn’s mind in that time, and not all of them were sensible. Each moment being this close to Ellie felt excruciating, both physically and emotionally.

  ‘Thank you Flynn.’ Her almost formal words came out of the blue, startling him. She eased herself out of his embrace. Her eyes were still dry.

  ‘Don’t thank me.’ They stood staring at each other. He was still searching for the words that would make things better. ‘What happens now?’ he asked eventually, not entirely sure what he was referring to.

  She swallowed, cleared her throat and spoke. ‘I’ll collect Mat’s things, I guess. Then go home, start making calls, let her friends and family know.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He worried that she wasn’t crying – she appeared so completely detached – but perhaps that was normal following a loved one’s death. By the time he’d arrived home after his father’s death, his mother, Lucy and Gran were almost drowning in their tears. It was hard to know what was normal, and he imagined Ellie was similarly confused. He wished Ellie wasn’t the one who had to make the calls, but then again, maybe having something to occupy her would be good.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said.

  Her eyes widened and she shook her head. ‘You don’t have to.’

  He took her hands in his and looked down into her tired eyes. ‘I know I don’t have to.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Okay. Let’s do this.’

  Not caring what anyone thought, but wanting Ellie to know he was there for her one hundred percent, he took her hand. They walked out into the corridor, where Lauren and the other nurse looked up from the desk. As he met their eyes, they quickly looked away. He wanted to get Ellie out of there fast, away from enquiring eyes. They approached the desk, Flynn ready and willing to speak on Ellie’s behalf, but she was a picture of calm and control.

  ‘Is there anything you need me to do, or can I just fetch Mat’s things?’

  Lauren shook her head and tried to smile. ‘No. If the doctor needs you to sign anything, she’ll come and see you tomorrow. Or the next day.’ She paused. ‘I’m really sorry, Ellie.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ellie replied civilly.

  Flynn watched as she cleared the room of Mat’s few possessions: a photo of Ellie and Mat, a couple of puzzle books, library books, pyjamas, socks. Ellie put them all in a big, green garbage bag as if she were just taking them down for dusting.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  She moved as if in a trance. Flynn wasn’t sure how to snap her out of it, or if that were a good idea, but he didn’t want her to be alone like this. He took the bag from her as they left the hospital.

  ‘How’s the farm?’ she asked as they crossed the car park.

  The farm? ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Our sale was a huge success and we’ve got more lambs on the way than ever.’ It felt bizarre to be discussing work, and he wondered if he should make Ellie talk about the elephant in the room. He decided to give it time. ‘I really can’t be a complaining cocky this year.’

  She gave a half-hearted chuckle. ‘That’s great.’

  They arrived at the cars. ‘Are you okay to drive?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  He frowned. This wasn’t going how he’d imagined it at all. ‘Okay then, I’ll follow you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She smiled as if he’d just offered to make her a cup of tea.

  Once on the road, Flynn mulled over the fact that he had no idea how you were supposed to act around someone who was grieving, didn’t know what to say or do to help them process everything. He contemplated calling his mum, but annihilated the thought immediately. As far as Karina knew, he wasn’t talking to – much less comforting – Ellie, and he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. Hell, if his mum found out she might even turn up at Mat’s place to keep an eye on things. And if Flynn knew only one thing about grief, it was that Ellie wouldn’t want many visitors right now. Especially not his mother. She might not even want him, but something told him not to leave her just yet.

  She turned into the drive in front of him and he parked behind her. He took in the sight of the cottage with its purple walls, red roof and yellow awnings. What would happen to it now? Would Ellie sell it? He couldn’t imagine anyone but eccentric old Matilda Thompson living in it.

  When he stepped into the hallway the place already felt odd, like he were entering someone’s private space without permission. His eyes skittered about the living room. When he’d dropped in on Ellie a few days ago, he’d noticed the half-packed boxes, the knick-knacks and souvenirs already cleared away. But it had still been a home then, the walls and floors and everything between had still told a story about the amazing woman that lived there. Now, the house felt cold and empty. And if this was what he felt, he could only imagine the desolation Ellie was experiencing.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she announced, dumping her keys in the leaf-shaped bowl on the side table. ‘And you must be hungry. There are a hundred different casseroles in the freezer. What do you fancy? Chicken? Beef? Lamb?’

  ‘Els.’ He stepped in front of her, blocking the way to the kitchen. ‘You don’t need to feed me. Why don’t you go sit down, I’ll get us a bite to eat.’

  ‘No.’ She flicked his hand away. ‘I’m quite capable of heating up a meal.’

  He wasn’t saying otherwise, he thought, but refrained from pressing the point. Her eyes were wild, as if she might fly off the handle at any moment. He held up his hands and backed away. ‘Suit yourself.’

  Leaving Ellie to the food, Flynn pottered around the living room, taking in Matilda’s remaining paraphernalia. He looked at some things and picked up others, trying to remember if she’d told him the stories behind each of them. She’d been around, that old duck, and she had some seriously cool stuff to show for it. He hated to think of Ellie sorting through it all on her own, but who else would know what was gold and what was junk? Hopefully Joyce or one of Mat’s other friends would lump in.

  Geez. He paused, his hand wrapped around a vase in the shape of a naked woman. She really was gone. His throat thickened as he tried to imagine Hope Junction without Matilda. She’d come to the town when he was just a child and had been a whirlwind of activity ever since. There wasn’t a local charity or group that Mat wasn’t a member of. She’d even led the Boy Scouts at one stage, a
nd he recalled sitting round the campfire, Matilda telling more poo jokes than any of the boys. A tear trickled down his cheek. No, he thought. He had to stay strong for Ellie. As he wiped the back of his hand against his eyes, a colossal crash came from the kitchen.

  Flynn almost dropped the naked woman. Swearing, he laid her down on the coffee table and hurried into the other room.

  Ellie stood, frozen, peering down at a mess of shattered china. He could only just recognise the pieces as belonging to Mat’s teapot collection. She raised her head, her eyes wide and glistening as she spoke. ‘I wanted these,’ she said. ‘Out of all her treasures, these were the ones she loved most.’

  He stepped towards her. ‘There’s still plenty more,’ he offered, but the moment the words came out he knew they were the wrong ones, dammit.

  She shook her head, her hand covering her mouth. He couldn’t tell whether she was about to be sick or just trying to stop the flood of emotion. ‘I’m such a clumsy fool,’ she said, and then it happened. The tears he’d been anxiously waiting for fell like a winter storm. Harsh, messy, unforgiving.

  The microwave pinged. They both ignored the tantalising aromas drifting through the cracks around the door.

  ‘You’re not a fool,’ he consoled. ‘Anything but. Come here.’ He met her halfway across the kitchen. She came willingly, accepted his embrace. If anyone were the fool, he thought, it was him, because right now, standing so close you couldn’t slide a ruler between them, he wanted her. Bad. And he felt terrible for it.

  Ellie let Flynn lead her into the living room where he gently eased her onto the couch. Her head fell against his hard shoulder, which was anything but uncomfortable. She watched her tears splash down onto his jumper, unable to stop them, unable to care. All she could think about was Matilda. All the things she wanted to say but she’d never have the chance to.