True Blue

by Sasha Wasley

  ‘It can happen when the glaze doesn’t suit the clay. You know how the glaze and the clay both shrink during firing? Well, they can shrink to different degrees.’ Free hunted for a way to explain it. ‘Just imagine you’re the clay, and the glaze is a pair of jeans. If the glaze isn’t a good fit for the clay, it can become too tight. Glazes have enough strength to handle a bit of tension, just like jeans do. But if there’s too much tension, it’ll literally pull itself apart. It’s like you’re bending over and your jeans rip. And also, these underglazes are old. Look at this one. It’s sort of gone off.’ She opened a bottle she’d inspected the previous week and showed Jay how the product was sitting in a congealed lump.

  ‘Off?’ Aidan’s voice was heavy with scorn. ‘These are glazes we’re talking about – chemicals, not baking ingredients. They don’t go off. The underglaze just needs a good stir and a bit of water added. And that clear glaze will be a good match for the clay Jay’s ordered, in my opinion.’

  ‘No, I don’t think it will,’ Free told him, keeping her voice calm. ‘I was visiting with this ceramic artist in Italy, right? She didn’t speak much English, but I managed to understand what she said about the glaze being a match for the —’

  Aidan laughed. ‘Sounds like it might have got lost in translation. That’s completely wrong.’

  Free was silenced. For a moment, she doubted herself. But no – she knew this stuff. Giacoma had shown her the severe crazing on the pots she’d made using a combination just like the one they were contemplating.

  ‘I’m worried about the durability of the tiles if we use this glaze,’ she said.

  Jay looked between Free and Aidan. ‘We’d be looking at significant costs to replace it all, Free. I didn’t budget for this, because I figured we had everything we needed except the clay. There’s a small contingency fund which should almost cover it, but that will use every cent we have for the project.’ She tipped her head to one side, studying Free. ‘Are you sure it’s going to be a problem?’

  ‘I really don’t think it is,’ Aidan drawled.

  Jay ignored him, keeping her gaze on Free.

  ‘I honestly believe it’s going to be a problem,’ Free told her. ‘I’ll do some more research to make sure, but I think we’d be better off spending the money, unfortunately.’

  Jay nodded. ‘You’d better go ahead and make the order, then.’

  Aidan stood still for a moment, his eyebrows raised. Free thought he might lash out at her – or even Jay – for flouting his opinion. She waited, her shoulders tight with anticipation. But in the end, he just turned and strolled away like he didn’t give a damn.

  Free stayed at school, using the art office computer to research clay and glazes until the cleaning staff came in and started vacuuming around her. By the time she left, however, she was confident she was right. Ordering new materials was much smarter than taking a chance on the old stuff. Imagine the kids’ disappointment if their tiles ended up damaged or ruined within a couple of years because they couldn’t stand up to the Kimberley weather.

  She drove home, tiredness hitting. It had been an emotional weekend and a busy day. She put the car in the garage but couldn’t be bothered closing the roller door. She apologised silently to Beth. Too knackered.

  That night, Free felt lonely. It was windy out and there were cracks, snaps and odd noises all through the house. Free wished she was home at Patersons as she lay in bed with Max snuggled up at her side. Despite her exhaustion, it took a long time to get to sleep.

  She woke in daylight to an ungodly stench. Free pushed back her hair and traced the odour to the bathroom. There was a cat turd in the bathtub.

  ‘Oh, Jesus, Max. Really?’ She shot him an accusing look. ‘You’ve got a litter box!’

  Max barely graced her with a glance. He just yowled his broken meow and tried to get her to follow him to the kitchen to make his breakfast.

  How the hell was she going to deal with this stinky mess? If it touched her hand, she’d freak out. She might even vomit. She remembered a box of disposable latex gloves she’d bought for when she worked with chemicals – they were still in the car. Throwing on her kimono, Free opened her front door to make the dash across the damp lawn, clicking open the boot with her key as she ran.

  ‘Ow!’ She’d stepped on something sharp. A doublegee? Free lifted her foot to check and was alarmed to see bright red oozing from a cut between her first two toes. That was a chunk of glass, not a prickle. In fact, there was broken glass all over the ground.

  Then she saw it. Her car had a smashed window. Free sucked in a breath and picked her way around the side to get a better view. A door was ajar, too. There was glass all over the front seat and the glove box hung open. Her old CD collection was scattered across the passenger seat, and all the spare change from her centre console was gone. Even the lucky crystal cat from Flavia – the one she kept blu-tacked to her dashboard – was missing. Free stepped back, her gut clenching. She half hopped, half ran back to the house but instead of going inside, she climbed Finn’s porch steps and banged on his door, trembling.

  It took an age for him to answer. He was still pulling a T-shirt down over his stomach as he opened the door.

  ‘Free?’ He saw something was wrong immediately. ‘What is it?’

  ‘My car got broken into.’

  ‘Oh, shit. Are you all right?’ He reached for her but stopped halfway, stepping outside instead. ‘Let’s have a look.’

  She led the way to the garage but stopped a distance from the shattered glass, wrapping her arms around herself while he went closer and bent down to peer inside the car.

  He emerged a minute later and crossed the yard to where she stood. ‘They’ve made a bit of a mess. Is anything missing?’

  Free shrugged. ‘Just spare change and a couple of other little things. My phone and bag were inside the house with me.’

  ‘Where’s Max?’

  Um, what? Maybe Finn thought the thieves had hurt Max. She’d heard of people doing awful things to pets during break-ins.

  ‘He’s inside, waiting for his breakfast. He’s fine.’

  Finn watched her worriedly. ‘You look upset.’

  She sucked in a breath and dissolved in tears. This time when Finn reached for her, he didn’t stop himself. He pulled her close and hugged her, stroking her hair.

  ‘I know,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘It feels horrible when someone does this kind of thing. It’s okay. We’ll call the station and make a report. The forensics guys will come out and take a look. If it’s any consolation, it was probably just kids ransacking your car for spare change.’

  ‘I think I heard them last night,’ she said through her sobs. ‘I hate that they were out here going through my car while I was alone inside. What if they’d tried to break into the house? What if it wasn’t kids?’

  He ran his hand over her hair again, pulling her in even tighter. ‘I get it. It’s not like you’re here all by yourself, though. You’ve got Max.’

  ‘Finn! This isn’t funny. What good would Max be if someone broke in? He couldn’t protect me. He’d just hide under the bed.’

  Finn was silent but he kept her close. Breathing in his warmth, she gripped his waist and buried her face in his T-shirt, comforted by the steady thud of his heart. At last she broke from the embrace and looked up at him. His warm brown eyes were full of concern for her – but there was something else in his face. Something deeply troubled.

  ‘Can I come over while I make the report?’ she asked, not wanting to be anywhere but near Finn in that moment.

  He nodded. As they headed back to the house, she slipped her hand into his. It felt natural. She didn’t even care if he didn’t like her romantically, or was freaking out, or was dating Phoebe, or anything else – because in that moment she simply needed him to hold her hand. Whatever he felt, he didn’t push her away. Max had slipped out onto the porch, and was sitting patiently on the divider rail.

  ‘You get your phone and your bag
,’ Finn said. He noticed her foot. ‘Holy crap. What happened there?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I just trod on a piece of glass. I’ll grab some tissues.’ She stepped inside, Finn following her, and the cat turd smell hit her again. She groaned, dropping Finn’s hand. ‘You might want to wait for me outside. I need to fix something quickly. Max pooped in the bathtub.’

  Finn whipped his head around to look at her so quickly she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d hurt himself. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I guess his litter tray wasn’t pristine enough for him.’ She rolled her eyes and attempted a laugh. ‘I should give him some bickies, too.’

  ‘Oh wow, I thought you meant . . .’ He trailed off. ‘So you have a cat called Max?’

  It was Free’s turn to be surprised. ‘Of course I do. You know that.’ She indicated the expectant tabby cat.

  Finn’s mouth fell open. ‘That’s my cat. He lives with me.’

  They watched each other in bewildered silence. ‘Hang on,’ Free said at length. ‘Are you saying Max also lives with you? Are you sure? It’s not his – I don’t know, his twin, or doppelganger, or whatever?’

  ‘This tabby cat right here, the one with the weird meow, is definitely living with me. He has been since I moved in here back in November. He even sleeps with me during the day when I’m on night shift.’

  ‘And with me at night. Max, you little player!’ she scolded the cat. ‘I guess you’re eating four meals a day, too. No wonder you’re getting so chubby.’

  ‘I call him Donald. Because he sounds like he’s quacking.’

  Free gave a shaky laugh. ‘I call him Max because I swear that’s what he says. This is too weird.’

  ‘Hey, don’t worry about the cat poop right now,’ Finn urged her. ‘It’s not going anywhere. Clean it up later. Just grab your stuff and come over.’

  She nodded, and ducked inside for her phone and handbag before shooting back out and locking the door behind her.

  Finn appeared outraged. ‘Max isn’t coming?’

  She looked down at the cat, who was still gazing at them in contented silence.

  ‘Not Max the cat. Max your boyfriend,’ Finn said.

  ‘My boyfriend!’ Free’s mouth fell open. ‘What boyfriend?’

  ‘Max. Your boyfriend.’

  She remained utterly baffled.

  ‘Glasses, thick eyebrows. Likes snakes. Lives here.’ Finn was watching her in concern. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, Free? Did you hit your head? Maybe you’re in shock.’

  ‘Are you talking about Max the biology teacher? The snake catcher? He doesn’t live here. And he is not my boyfriend!’

  Finn was silent. It wasn’t until Free descended the steps and made for his porch that he regained the power of speech. ‘Wow, I’m sorry,’ he said, following her slowly. ‘You said you lived here with Max, and I assumed . . .’

  She shook her head vehemently. ‘That guy is not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend from work.’

  ‘So . . . your boyfriend is a different Max altogether?’

  ‘My boyfriend? I only know two Maxes – my cat and my colleague. I don’t even have a boyfriend.’

  Finn’s face changed entirely in an instant. He reddened, right to the tips of his ears. He opened his mouth to speak but lost his words and closed it again. After a few moments, he drew himself up and released a slow breath.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, pushing his door open. ‘Let’s go make this phone call.’

  Inside, Finn became his normal self. Free tended to her foot, washing it in his bathroom basin and then stopping the blood with a handful of tissues. Finn called the station so she could report the break-in and made her a cup of tea. When Free finished making her report, she phoned Jay.

  ‘Oh no, sweetie,’ said Jay when Free told her what had happened. ‘Are you okay? Did they take anything of value?’

  ‘No, nothing important,’ she answered, although the thought of Flavia’s crystal cat gave her a pang.

  ‘Do you need to take the day off?’

  ‘No, I’ll come in,’ Free said. ‘I’ll just sort out a few things. I’ll be late, but I’ll be there well before our after-school session starts.’

  ‘It’s all right. Don’t stress. Just come in when you can.’

  As she rang off, Finn knelt down in front of her and picked up her foot in his big, warm hand. He gently removed the tissues and inspected the cut.

  ‘It looks okay,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you should probably get a tetanus shot.’ He replaced the tissues, tucking them carefully between her toes.

  ‘I had a booster only last year,’ she said. ‘It’s not serious. I think a bandaid should do the trick.’

  He caught her eye and stared at her for a few moments. Free’s heart rate bumped up again. Why was he looking at her like that? Like he’d never seen her before. She became acutely aware that she was sitting there with just a light satin kimono over her singlet and knickers – no bra or anything. He let go of her foot.

  Finn stood up and moved to the other side of the table, where he sat down. ‘They’re not busy, so they’re sending someone out this morning.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Forensics.’

  ‘Oh.’ Free bit her thumbnail, staring at her phone in her hands. She should tell Beth. Beth might know what to do about the car. She tapped out a message.

  My car got broken into. They smashed the window. I won’t be able to use it until it gets fixed. She finished with crying- and terrified-face emojis.

  Beth called immediately. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m fine, Beth. I’m at Finn’s place. He’s looking after me.’ She smiled at Finn and he smiled back.

  Beth hmm-ed, a distinct note of disapproval in her voice. ‘Where was the car?’

  ‘In the garage —’

  ‘Locked up?’

  Free hesitated. ‘The car was locked.’

  ‘But not the garage?’

  ‘I was really tired . . .’

  Beth sighed. ‘Free, I told you to lock your garage every time!’

  ‘I’m sorry. It was only once.’

  ‘Once too often.’ Beth sounded annoyed and Free regretted contacting her. ‘Call your insurer. They’ll authorise a repair for you. I use Fonti’s Automotive on Lillypilly Street. Then call Willow and ask if someone from Patersons or Quintilla can come into town today. Get them to send a vehicle for you to use while yours gets repaired.’

  Free’s regret vanished. Beth was so wonderfully competent. ‘Okay,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, Beth.’

  ‘I can come around after work . . .’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Free assured her.

  She ended the call and rang her insurer. The sympathetic woman told Free that she could indeed use Fonti’s for repairs and advised her to clean up the glass carefully before driving it to the repairer. Finn caught wind of what was being discussed, and after she hung up he offered to help her sort out the glass as soon as the forensics team had been. Free called Willow next, and found out a Quintilla staff member was doing a grocery run that day. Willow promised to send an extra vehicle with a station hand. Free silently thanked Beth for always knowing just what to do.

  Finn’s colleague from the Forensic Section arrived soon after – a jolly blonde woman of about fifty, named Jo.

  ‘We’ve had a spate of car break-ins,’ she told Free brightly. ‘You’re one of three in the past week, so don’t feel special.’ She gave a gravelly laugh. ‘They’ve left a few prints at the other scenes, but no matches on the database as yet.’

  Free unlocked her house and went for a dustpan and the vacuum cleaner. As soon as Jo was finished, she and Finn set to work tidying up the mess. Finn brought plastic bags to collect the glass chunks, and grabbed an extension cord from his own place
so he could vacuum. When it was done, he used antibacterial wipes to clean down the doors and the interior.

  ‘I can’t see anything disgusting, but I’d want to clean my car if it happened to me,’ he said.

  Free thanked Finn and went inside for a shower. Oh wow. He had even removed Max’s turd from the bathtub. Her mind flew back to Finn’s absurd mistake: that the Max she lived with was her boyfriend. Her cat, for goodness sake! But it made sense. He’d had no idea she had a cat. He’d thought her cat was his cat. She burst into laughter in the shower. He must have been labouring under that misapprehension for weeks – ever since Max the biology teacher had come around to help with the snake. Maybe even before that.

  All of a sudden her body froze, even with warm water running over her back.

  Was this . . . could this be why he’d refused to make a move? Why he’d never responded to any of her moves? Because he thought she was trying to hook up with him while she had a boyfriend?

  Oh. My. God.

  No way.

  But he was dating Phoebe, she recalled. Maybe he genuinely wasn’t interested, and had liked Phoebe from the start. He’d been ‘falling all over himself’ to go on a date with Phoebe, after all. Her spirits sank again – but not all the way.

  A warm little flicker of hope remained.

  Free was provided with a battered blue farm ute for the duration of her car repairs. It was comforting to be in a station vehicle after the break-in. She would trade in her car for a four-wheel drive as soon as she had a consistent income, Free decided. It was the best kind of vehicle for Mount Clair. Anyway, she didn’t even want her little car now that some stranger had broken into it and stolen her stuff. The thought of the little lucky crystal cat from Flavia saddened her every time she remembered it.

  All through her waking hours, thoughts of Finn intruded. She kept coming back to that crazy misunderstanding between them. How could he honestly have thought the Max she lived with was the biology teacher at school? She was dying to discuss it with him, but Finn’s work hours seemed to coincide with her home hours. She needed to thank him for his help, too. By Wednesday evening, Free couldn’t let it go on any longer and sent him a direct message.