True Blue

by Sasha Wasley

  There was a long, increasingly ominous silence. ‘Freya Paterson, you don’t just invite random men back to our family station for long weekends. I don’t care how attracted to him you are. We discussed this. You understood exactly how bad for you this guy would be.’

  Free’s temper flared. ‘I never said anything like that. It was you who insisted he was bad for me, and you don’t get what happened.’

  ‘Can you blame me? What you just told me doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘It makes perfect sense. You just need to listen. He thought I had a boyfriend.’

  ‘So he thought you had a boyfriend while he was leading you on?’ Beth huffed. ‘Oh well, that makes it so much better.’

  ‘No, Beth! Listen to me. He didn’t lead me on.’ Free sighed. ‘It’s a bit complicated. I’ll explain it when I get back to town. I’m trying to make breakfast right now.’

  ‘Free, do not get involved with this guy,’ Beth warned. ‘I’ve met his type before. He might seem nice now, but he’ll mess with you again, guaranteed.’

  Free was furious but gave up. ‘I’ve got to go. Come over this week and I’ll explain everything. See ya!’ She hung up before Beth could reply and then switched her phone to silent because a stream of texts followed, all dire warnings about men who don’t respect boundaries and know how to play you so you feel special, but will – without a doubt – hurt you in the end. Free searched for a simple pancake recipe, attempting to ignore the messages.

  The pancakes were more like crepe–pikelet hybrids, small and thin. But drenched in honey and with sliced banana – since there were no berries – they tasted okay. Barry and Finn both said they enjoyed them. Afterwards, they sat in the lounge room to play a game of Scrabble, Barry joining in. Free didn’t mind that her father was there this time. She would have plenty of chances to get Finn alone when they got back to Mount Clair. It was good simply to spend time with Finn, and she loved the ease with which he got along with Barry.

  Sitting there waiting for her father to play his turn, Free reviewed the video of Kira barrel-racing on her phone, pausing it at the moment Kira rounded the last barrel. She caught her breath. What a fabulous still. She took a screenshot and went for her sketchpad and charcoal, sketching in between taking turns at placing Scrabble tiles. The sketch came together beautifully, the motion and drama of Kira and Peanut mid-turn building with every stroke of the charcoal. Finally, she held it at arm’s length, examining it critically.

  ‘That’s bloody good, sweetheart,’ said her father.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ Finn added quietly, staring at the page.

  Free went warm inside. ‘Should I give it to her, do you think? To Kira?’

  ‘I reckon she’ll bloody love it,’ said Barry. ‘It’s your turn, Free.’

  They drove home in Free’s little car on Tuesday morning, her new china cat blu-tacked onto the dashboard.

  ‘Bummer it rained all yesterday,’ she said. ‘I really wanted to take you out to the river.’

  ‘Never mind. Next time.’ Finn paused. ‘I think you’ve found a fan in Kira.’

  Free smiled, remembering Kira’s reaction when she’d received the charcoal sketch, finalised and sealed that morning. The nineteen-year-old had called it the ‘most amazing’ drawing she’d ever seen, and immediately photographed it, shared it on all her social networks, and then stuck it up on the dorm wall above her bunk.

  Free honked to scare a flock of cockatoos off the road and they rose in a squawking flurry of white. ‘It was lovely of Kira to be so positive,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve got so much talent, Free. I’m just waiting for you to take the world by storm and your art sales to skyrocket.’

  ‘Hah. I’d need to be a reliable producer of quality art for that to happen. I’m erratic. Sometimes I produce nothing for a month and other times I’ll do ten pieces. And of those ten, I’m happy with maybe one of them.’

  ‘You’re way too hard on yourself,’ said Finn.

  ‘You’ve only seen, like – what? Two of my artworks?’

  ‘Two!’ He gave a derisive hoot. ‘Talbot Gorge, which is my favourite, plus the one you did for Kira yesterday, right? But you forget that there are three of your paintings hanging in the guest room at Paterson Downs, as well as your hand-painted tiles in the meals area, and the water tower sketch in the lounge. Not to mention the one I saw at Quintilla a couple of weeks back, at the wedding.’

  ‘At Quintilla?’

  ‘A painting of a horse.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ she said slowly. ‘That’s right. I painted King for Tom, years ago. He kept that?’

  ‘It’s in the guest bathroom. How could you not have noticed that your neighbours have your painting in their bathroom?’

  She tried to picture the painting of Tom’s big horse in the Forrests’ guest bathroom. She gave up. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t look past the end of my own nose.’

  ‘And then there’s the tiles and pottery you sell on Etsy, and the drawings and paintings you’ve posted on your artist page on Facebook . . .’

  Free glanced at Finn, stunned. ‘How do you know all this?’

  He paused. ‘Because maybe I’ve been a tiny bit obsessed with Free Paterson.’ He gave a self-conscious laugh but Free’s stomach flipped.

  ‘You’ve been looking at my social pages and Etsy store?’

  ‘Maybe once or twice.’

  Free grinned. ‘You are so sweet.’

  ‘Phew,’ he said. ‘Sweet, not a stalker. I love your Herne 365 Instagram project, by the way. Your photos are stunning. And I crack up every time I see the hashtag “no filter”. That’s you all over.’

  She groaned. ‘I know, I know. Talk first, regret later.’

  ‘No, it’s beautiful.’

  The warmth rose in her cheeks and she tried to curb her sheer, stupid happiness. ‘Well, I can’t wait to finish the Talbot Gorge painting for you. I feel like I’ve been working on it forever. I need to start something new.’

  ‘What’s next?’ he asked.

  She considered. ‘I’m not sure. I took some photos at the station this weekend that I could use, or I might paint the Herne River. I should try to capture it while it’s still in its natural state.’ Free sighed. ‘Do you want to come along to the next Save the River info session?’

  ‘Is this a date or are you recruiting?’

  She burst into laughter. ‘Both.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll come along. There have been protesters down at the construction site lately. We’ve been called in to move them along – several times.’

  ‘Oh no! Why? Aren’t they protesting peacefully?’

  ‘Yes, but they’re trespassing, and the site manager asked us to clear them out.’

  The signs of town had started to appear: the craggy red knoll that gave the town its name, with its ugly metal antenna on top; the information board and the rest stop. Free frowned, thinking on Finn’s words.

  ‘But they’re just there, not doing any harm,’ she said. ‘They have the right to protest against the project, don’t they?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Finn. ‘But they aren’t allowed to trespass on the worksite. If nothing else, it’s a safety issue.’

  ‘But you need to understand, the dam might wreck the river’s ecosystem altogether. For good.’ They turned onto the main street through town and rolled past shops, cafés and the pub. Free glanced at Finn. ‘Haven’t you seen the information coming out from the environmental agencies?’

  ‘Yeah, I have. It doesn’t look good at all. I can’t understand why the project got approved when it has such a bank of evidence against it.’

  ‘So why are you clearing the protesters out?’ she asked.

  Finn grimaced. ‘I have to. If they’ve broken the law, I have to sort it out.’

  ‘But they feel like a law has been violated, too,’ she attempted. ‘There’s no cops to stand up for the river —’

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Finn interrupted her suddenly. ‘Pull over, Free.’<
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  Startled, Free obeyed. She followed his gaze and spotted what he’d seen – two men were in one another’s faces, getting aggressive on the pavement outside the bottle shop across the street. A small crowd, presumably their buddies, had gathered to watch the show. The young bloke who worked in the drive-through was on his phone, looking anxious. There was some egging on from the crowd and then a cheer went up when one of the men made the first move – a shove in the chest. Free gasped.

  ‘Wait here,’ Finn said, fumbling with the door handle.

  ‘What? No!’ Free grabbed his arm. ‘They’re drunk, Finn! They won’t listen to reason!’

  He only paused to shoot her a slightly quizzical look. ‘This is my job.’

  She might as well have been an insect on his arm for all the power she had to hold him there. He was out of the car door in an instant, stopping only to call ‘Lock the car!’ back at Free before he crossed the intersection.

  By now the two men were swinging punches. Free watched, too frightened even to cry. Finn spoke into his phone as he ran, then crammed it into his back pocket and dived into the fray. Back muscles flexing, he grabbed one bloke by the shirt collar and swung him away, using his shoulder to fend off an attack from the other guy. The crowd booed and someone threw a bottle. It bounced off Finn’s arm and smashed on the street. Free screamed and scrabbled for her phone, willing her trembling fingers to behave so she could dial triple-0. But pub security had joined Finn by now, and the two bouncers restrained one guy while Finn clutched the other man by his collar.

  She stopped trying to dial. Finn was gesturing, talking to the bouncers while the crowd receded, perhaps wary of getting busted for being involved. Moments later, a police car rolled to a stop out the front of Mounties Drive-Thru Liquor. A female officer ambled over to Finn, smiling a greeting. There was a conversation between the cops and the bouncers, then the guy Finn had been restraining was helped into the rear of the police car. Another police vehicle arrived. Finn exchanged a few cheerful words with the other officers, then jogged back to Free and joined her in the front seat.

  Free’s mouth hung open.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he said, as if he’d inconvenienced her with a pit stop.

  She managed to form words. ‘You could have been killed!’

  ‘Nah,’ Finn said. ‘Those two were just drunk and disorderly. No knives or anything.’

  ‘But . . .’ Free searched for her scattered wits. ‘Is that what you do all day at work?’

  ‘No, that’s a tiny part of what I do. Unless it’s a weekend night-time patrol,’ he added as an afterthought.

  ‘Weren’t you scared?’

  ‘I was being cautious, watching them carefully. I’ve dealt with one of them before – several times, in fact. He’s almost always involved in a bit of biffo at the pub on Friday nights. Sarge says it’s a tradition.’

  ‘Do you have to make a report or anything?’ This was so far out of the realm of anything she’d ever seen a boyfriend do, Free could hardly process it. The image of Finn effortlessly dragging the two men apart was still looping in her head.

  ‘It’s okay, my colleagues will take care of that. I’ll add my two cents when I’m in later. Those two will just go into the lockup to get sober. Drinking on a Tuesday morning,’ he added with a sigh. He brought expectant eyes back to hers. ‘We can go now.’

  She started the car, letting out a long, shaky breath. ‘That was so scary. But . . .’ She thought of his biceps flexing under his shirt sleeves. ‘It is wrong that I’m quite attracted to you right now?’

  Finn broke into a laugh. ‘Not in my book!’

  They were home in Marlu Street within minutes. Free had to prepare for her after-school session with the Year Elevens, and Finn needed to rest, since he would be working an evening shift. They said goodbye at the bottom of the porch steps, but several minutes of Finn’s kisses got her all heated up again.

  ‘Go,’ she said, pushing him away at last. ‘I can’t have you tired at work, not if you’re having to break up scary street fights like that.’

  Finn reluctantly let her go. ‘I’m rostered on tonight and again tomorrow afternoon. When can I see you again?’

  ‘Any time you like. I’m right next door.’

  He grinned and pulled her close for a final kiss. Free went inside and fired up her laptop to check her objectives for today’s session with the students – then Finn started to sing.

  She couldn’t resist. She dashed to the studio and held the jar up to the wall, thankful he didn’t know she could hear him. It was a new song – she didn’t know it – and he was singing with such beautiful joy that she couldn’t hold in her smile. He was so breathtakingly real, with those Kimberley-creek eyes, singing songs that told his heart’s story. Free’s eyes filled with tears.

  She had never understood another person like she understood Finn.

  ‘Okay, so this one’s from Linda, this one’s from Colin, and this one’s from Enza.’ Jay pressed each bundle of paper into Free’s hands. ‘They all agreed to give you a ten per cent cut and pay the shipping charges.’

  Free could hardly believe it. ‘Why don’t they just create their own accounts with Bostons? Seriously. It’s so easy. And cheaper without my percentage.’

  Jay chuckled. ‘They don’t care, Free. They just want you to take their pain away. They want to scribble down a list of wants and hand it to someone who will do the web ordering for them.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘Free.’ Jay gave her an even look. ‘Some of us hate online shopping. Some of us didn’t grow up with it like you have, and don’t feel as comfortable with it. Some of us don’t feel okay with making online purchases because we don’t have PayPal or don’t use credit cards over the net. That’s where you come in. Please, just do the orders for us and take our money.’

  Free found herself nodding obediently. This awesome authority was why Jay was a successful head of a high school art department, she realised.

  ‘You’d better keep track of all this,’ Jay advised, turning back to her work. ‘Come tax time, you’ll need to declare your earnings.’

  Free’s thoughts flew to Willow. She was good at that sort of stuff. She should ask Willow when she got back from Bali – or maybe even Beth. Ugh. Beth. She still had to call her sister back to explain the thing with Finn.

  The thought of Finn fired happiness into her heart and dispersed all her worries. Roll on tomorrow, so she could see him again . . .

  ‘We’ll start ceramics work this week, and make some practice tiles,’ said Jay. ‘Make sure the kids get their tile designs nailed over the next couple of weeks.’

  ‘Okay, shall do.’

  Aidan came in to the office just before Free went to her after-school session.

  ‘Oh, hi. What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘Marking assignments.’ Aidan’s tone was chagrined.

  The tin of old glaze was still sitting on the office bench and he paused to inspect it, making a hmm-ing sound. She braced herself for a critical comment, thinking how his tight face seemed even tighter since she’d knocked him back.

  ‘I still think this glaze would have been fine,’ he told her, lifting his eyebrows above those cold, pale eyes.

  A bolt of dislike went through Free. ‘I did a lot of research on the topic. I’m sure the new glaze will match the clay better. I truly felt a bit wobbly about the old glaze.’

  He gave a vague shrug that somehow conveyed deep scorn. ‘Expensive way to feel a bit wobbly about something.’

  Doubt crept in. Crap. If he was right, she’d wasted hundreds of the school’s dollars on glazes. But no – she was right, she was sure of it. Remember what Giacoma said about the crazing from the glaze–clay mismatch? Free turned away and headed to her classroom so Aidan wouldn’t see the uncertainty in her face.

  Most of the kids already had a clear vision for their tiles. There were a few students who were struggling to settle on a design, so Free sat with them and brai
nstormed. Focused on the subject and among friends, their ideas flowed. She was impressed with the creativity of the concepts these kids were coming up with. Within twenty minutes she was able to leave them to it, their pencils scratching as they sketched their designs. She checked in with Tia, who had reluctantly relinquished her oil painting to work on her tile design this week.

  ‘Tell me about your design,’ she said, peering at the 3D cross-sections Tia was sketching.

  Tia flushed her usual pink but complied. ‘I’m using my family’s pearling history as inspiration. I want to do my tile as the inside of an oyster shell, with a pearl forming. I want it to be really multidimensional, with uneven texture like an oyster shell all around the outside, and the lump of pearl here, and then I’m going to glaze it with luminous colours so it’s just like the inside of a shell.’

  Free gasped. ‘Oh my gosh, that sounds brilliant! It will be challenging to achieve the colours but you’re very capable. Watch the tile thickness, yeah? We’ll go through some techniques to minimise the chances of cracking during firing.’

  Tia nodded, giving Free a shy smile. Free moved on to Cameron, who’d come up with three ideas for tile designs in collaboration with his grandmother, and was slowly getting them on paper. Cameron had the potential to produce something special, but he was a little unfocused. Hopefully, Tia’s influence would rub off on him.

  Several of the students asked about dropping in to work at Free’s place on the weekend. It was odd that so many of them needed somewhere to paint. Didn’t their parents support their artistic endeavours at home? She’d been lucky, Free realised, to have the backing and admiration of her father while she’d explored her avenues as an artist.

  ‘You’re all welcome to come and paint or draw at my place,’ she told the group. ‘We had four last time, but we can make room for more, no problem.’

  Free worked at the school on Wednesday to make up for her Tuesday morning off, planning the coming week’s lessons and sourcing a good video on tile-making to show the students. When she got home, she sent Finn a message to say he should come over when he finished work, then sat down to drink a cup of tea and catch up on her social profiles before she did the Bostons ordering. Flavia had updated, and Free knew enough Italian to know her friend was bitching about her job. Devi had posted a video of Si bottlefeeding a new poddy calf. Tom had posted a photo of cocktails by the pool in Nusa Dua, and complained that his ‘extremely hot wife’ wouldn’t let him share a photo of her in bathers. He and Willow must be home by now. A text message from Beth beeped through on her phone.