The Peppercorn Project

by Nicki Edwards

  On the far side of the playground three horses stood beneath the shade of the gums, watching the world go by, swishing their tails lazily at flies. Occasionally the grey stomped his back leg on the ground and pinned his ears back. She would have to remind Mietta to stay away from that one. Fletcher was also watching the horses, a small smile playing on his lips.

  ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ she asked, waiting for him to catch up.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Do you think I would be allowed to ride them?’ Mietta asked.

  Isabelle shrugged. ‘I have no idea. But if not these horses, I’m sure there are others around here you could ride.’

  Mietta jumped up and down excitedly and Isabelle promised herself if they won the competition and moved to Stony Creek, she would do whatever it took to make sure her kids were able to ride a horse, if that’s what they wanted.

  ‘Do you know where you’re going?’ Fletcher asked, interrupting Isabelle’s vision of her children cantering over jumps at the local pony club.

  ‘The email said the interviews are being held in the Institute hall next to the Uniting Church.’ Isabelle looked around. ‘The place isn’t that big. How hard can it be to find a church?’

  ‘Is that it over there?’ Fletcher pointed.

  On the other side of the road, a freshly-painted, rendered brick building stood tall and proud – the green grass surrounding it newly mown. Isabelle shaded her eyes and squinted. She read the sign. Stony Creek Uniting Church in Australia.

  ‘Yep, that’s it. Come on then.’ She tugged Mietta’s hand. ‘Let’s go do this.’

  They followed a concrete path around the side of the church to a large hall. The structure had seen better days, but someone had gone to a lot of trouble decorating the outside with streamers and balloons. A large hand-painted sign welcomed the Peppercorn Project contestants. Pale grey river stones were stacked high – like tall sentinels, marking the entrance.

  Beneath the wide veranda, a blonde woman sat at a small table.

  ‘You must be the Cassidys.’ Her voice was deep and warm, and her smile lit up an attractive face. ‘I’m Leah Williams. Welcome!’

  Leah stood and moved around the table, holding out her hand, which Isabelle shook. Leah was dressed like almost every other woman Isabelle had seen so far as they’d driven around – a shirt tucked into faded jeans and well-loved leather boots on her feet.

  ‘Yes, hi. I’m Isabelle Cassidy.’

  Leah appraised the kids with interest, and for a split second Isabelle wished she hadn’t insisted they dress in their best clothes. Fletcher yanked his shirt out of his pants and pushed the sleeves halfway up his forearms. Isabelle didn’t reprimand him.

  ‘And you two must be Fletcher and Mietta.’ Leah smiled at them.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Isabelle said, prodding Mietta on the small of her back and pushing her forwards.

  ‘That’s a cute skirt you’re wearing, Mietta,’ Leah said. ‘You look like a princess.’

  Mietta grinned at Leah and performed a pirouette. Isabelle reached to pull Fletcher towards her but he took a sideways step and she dropped her arm awkwardly. So much for the lecture on good manners.

  ‘G’day, mate.’ Leah didn’t seem bothered by Fletcher’s poor behaviour. She turned back to Isabelle and smiled again. ‘It’s great to have you guys here. As I said, I’m Leah. My sister Rachel is in charge. You’ll meet her in a sec when you go inside for your interview. Surprisingly, they’re running ahead of schedule. But I guess you’re only the third family through so far. Plenty of time for them to run behind.’

  ‘Rachel King is your sister?’

  ‘Yep. King is her married name. This project is her baby and she roped me in to help. Can’t say I mind!’ Leah leaned towards Isabelle with a look of mischief on her face. ‘The guy before you was hot – and single.’

  ‘Oh.’ Isabelle wasn’t sure what else to say.

  Leah’s booming laugh filled the small space.

  ‘Sorry, that’s why Rachel wouldn’t let me on the interview panel! I only have one volume – loud – and no filter. It’s not really true.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, I’m not about to change for anyone. Especially not my sister.’

  ‘I thought only families could apply for the houses, not singles.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Leah leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially. ‘He was here with his parents!’

  Isabelle raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Exactly what I thought.’ Leah said. ‘What kind of hot single guy still lives at home with his parents?’

  ‘How old was he?’

  ‘Thirty-five. I asked.’

  Isabelle spluttered in surprise. She’d moved out of home after finishing high school, and straight in with Dan. Of course, she had also been pregnant with Fletcher and her parents had kicked her out, but she preferred to think it was her decision.

  ‘Yep, that was my response too. I’m the same age, and I don’t live at home with my folks. Haven’t for years.’

  Isabelle subtly analysed the woman opposite her. She would have put her on the other side of forty. She was trying to formulate a polite response when the door to the hall burst open. A wave of cool air swept over them as a woman stepped out of the darkened hall. It was instantly apparent this was Leah’s sister. Their similarities were striking, except Rachel was smaller than her older sister.

  ‘Leah, you’re not supposed to be interviewing people out here,’ Rachel hissed.

  Isabelle reddened, stepping aside and averting her eyes.

  It appeared the sisters patronised the same shop. Perhaps there was only one place to buy clothes in Stony Creek. Rachel’s shirt matched Leah’s, but in pale blue. Her dark denim jeans had a never-been-washed look about them. Instead of pearls around her neck like Leah wore, Rachel sported an expensive-looking antique rose gold necklace and matching bracelet. Isabelle’s mother would have described the sisters as ‘old money’.

  ‘You’re not meant to be standing out here gas-bagging with the contestants. Your job is to tick people off when they arrive before bringing them straight through to me,’ Rachel continued, lowering her voice only slightly.

  ‘It’s usually your job to tick people off,’ Leah muttered under her breath, but loudly enough for Isabelle to hear.

  Isabelle stifled a giggle. Either there was bad blood between them, or Leah did not like her bossy younger sister upstaging her. Fletcher and Mietta stared from one woman to the other. Isabelle wanted to tell them to stop gawking, but she was enjoying the exchange herself.

  Rachel turned to face Isabelle, a saccharine smile on her face. ‘Hello. Welcome to Stony Creek. I’m Rachel King. And I see you’ve met my sister, Leah.’

  Isabelle opened her mouth to speak when Leah piped up. ‘And these are Isabelle’s kids.’

  ‘Ah yes, Flynn and Mia,’ Rachel said.

  ‘It’s Fletcher,’ Isabelle corrected. ‘And Mietta.’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Rachel said, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. ‘I’ve taught so many children over the years I tend to get names mixed up.’ She smiled at Fletcher, the type of smile teenage boys hated. ‘You’re about the same age as my Harry. You two could become good mates if you move here.’

  Fletcher scowled. Behind Rachel’s back, Leah rolled her eyes before leaning towards Fletcher. ‘Harry’s ten and you don’t have to be his best mate. He’s a pain in the butt!’

  Fletcher grinned at Leah and a knowing look passed between them.

  Right then, Isabelle decided if they were successful in getting one of the Peppercorn leases, she would make sure she spent a lot of time with Leah Williams.

  And keep her distance from Rachel King.

  Chapter 6

  Once inside Rachel introduced the other members of the panel. Alison Monahan was the local nurse and Isabelle warmed to her immediately. Jack O’Rourke was a tall and gnarled older man, straight off the farm. Obviously chosen for his quiet wisdom, the smile he gave Isabelle whe
n she walked in set her at ease.

  ‘Tell me, Isabelle, what made you apply for one of our houses?’ Rachel crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in her chair, placing her lime green clipboard down in her lap.

  Isabelle had glimpsed a list of questions on the clipboard as she’d followed Rachel into the hall. Jack and Alison had matching clipboards in front of them.

  She drew in a deep breath before exhaling in a rush. ‘The bank has repossessed my house. We have to be out next month and have nowhere else to live. And I’ve only got enough money to get me through until Christmas.’

  The only sound in the hall was the rattle of an old air conditioner in the window.

  Jack silently twisted a thick gold wedding band around his left ring finger and avoided Isabelle’s eyes. Alison looked at Fletcher. She had shocked them. She’d seen that look on the faces of strangers more times than she could count.

  ‘Why don’t you tell us your story, Isabelle,’ Alison suggested.

  Isabelle smiled gratefully at her.

  ‘You said in your application you lost your husband recently?’

  Pain speared Isabelle’s chest and she experienced the familiar tightening of her ribcage. She worked hard to breathe as she forced a smile. ‘Yes. January.’ She hated the way her voice cracked. The most traumatic event of her life had occurred nine months ago, yet it felt as though it was yesterday. Tension nestled into large knots in her shoulders. ‘Dan was out surfing earlier this year and had a heart attack. Unfortunately he couldn’t be revived.’ Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

  Uncomfortable silence hogged the room. Mietta scooted forward in her seat and reached for Isabelle’s hand. Fletcher’s chin dropped to his chest and he started jiggling one leg furiously – a nervous habit Isabelle thought he had broken. She swore under her breath. Why hadn’t she considered her kids before launching into their story?

  Alison coughed politely behind her hand and spoke. ‘Children hate being cooped up inside, Isabelle. It’s a glorious day, why don’t you let Fletcher and Mietta run around and explore? They can’t get into any harm, and they know where you are. We can continue the interview and you can catch up with them afterwards.’

  The offer was barely out of Alison’s mouth before Fletcher sprang from his seat.

  Isabelle smiled at the older woman in appreciation. With a nod to Fletcher, he took off out the door. She squeezed Mietta’s hand. ‘What about you, darling? Do you want to head outside with Fletcher?’

  ‘He won’t want me tagging along,’ Mietta said.

  ‘Why don’t you go outside and sit with Leah?’ Isabelle suggested. ‘You can help check out the competition,’ she whispered.

  ‘Okay,’ Mietta said, although she didn’t sound convinced.

  ‘I’m here if you need me, okay?’

  Mietta obeyed, her feet shuffling across the timber floor. The door slammed shut and Isabelle jumped involuntarily. She quickly recovered, turning her attention back to the three people opposite her.

  ‘It must be hard on the kids,’ Alison said softly. ‘Losing their dad unexpectedly, and in such tragic circumstances.’

  Isabelle nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She had been so confident she could get through the interview without crying, and yet one kind word and the tears, which were always just under the surface, bubbled up and threatened to tip over the edge. Was she going to be stuck on this emotional rollercoaster forever?

  Delving into her handbag, she found a tissue and blew her nose loudly. She drew in another deep breath and let it out.

  ‘We were about to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary,’ she said.

  Rachel nodded and they waited for Isabelle to continue.

  ‘We met at the end of Year Twelve and fell in love. Then I fell pregnant.’ From the moment Dan cut the cord and took Fletcher into his arms, he was besotted. ‘Dan and Fletcher were so close.’ Isabelle sniffed. ‘They had a special bond. Whatever Dan did, Fletcher wanted to do it too.’

  ‘How old is Fletcher?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Twelve. A teenager next year.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Not the best age for a kid to lose his Dad.’

  ‘I don’t think any time is a good time,’ Alison replied gently, reaching out to touch Isabelle’s hand. Tears stung Isabelle’s eyes at the other woman’s kindness.

  ‘And Mietta?’ Rachel asked.

  Isabelle’s mouth curled upwards in a smile. ‘Mietta is six. She’s my angel. I lost three babies between Fletcher and Mietta and we had decided not to try for another baby when I fell pregnant again. She was our little surprise miracle.’

  ‘She seems shy,’ Rachel said. ‘How do you think she’ll cope if you win – moving and everything? You’re making a big decision.’

  Isabelle nodded. ‘I agree, but the decision is out of our hands. Dan had no life insurance, we’d over-extended ourselves with our mortgage and relied on our credit cards too much. Even with some money from his super, it wasn’t enough to keep the house. The bank has sold it and we have until the end of November to move out.’

  ‘And if you don’t get one of the houses here, what will you do?’ Jack asked kindly.

  ‘I’m not sure. Get a job. Start again.’ Isabelle shrugged. ‘Move back in with my parents, I guess.’

  ‘Is that an option?’ Rachel asked.

  Isabelle screwed up her face. ‘Not really. My parents didn’t like Dan. They never forgave me for falling pregnant when I was so young. In their eyes, it was inexcusable to be pregnant and not get married straightaway. They’ve come around in the last couple of years, but since Dan’s death my father made it clear I made my bed a long time ago …’

  ‘And now you have to lie in it,’ Alison said.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a cliché, but that’s how it is.’

  ‘And Dan’s parents?’ Rachel asked.

  Isabelle hesitated, wondering how much information she needed to divulge. ‘Dan’s mum died before Mietta was born and we have no contact with his dad anymore.’

  Jack frowned. She knew what was going through his mind. The same thing went through hers regularly. Both sets of parents had missed so much in the lives of their grandchildren.

  ‘That’s just the way it is,’ Isabelle explained. ‘For years it was only the four of us. We haven’t needed anyone else.’

  ‘How did you hear about the Peppercorn Project?’ Rachel asked, glancing at her watch, her clipboard, and then back at Isabelle. It was clear she intended to get the interview back on track.

  Isabelle was glad for the change in topic. She launched into an explanation of how she’d seen the advertisements on social media. ‘I like how you’ve put a different slant on the one-dollar-a-week-rent schemes that other towns have offered.’

  ‘Most of those have failed,’ Rachel said. ‘I wanted to do something a little bit different. Unlike other towns, our town isn’t dying and doesn’t need rescuing and we want to keep it that way. We believe we have something to offer families such as yours. If you like living here, it’s win-win for both of us. The town helps you, and you help keep us keep the place alive.’

  ‘Do you understand what a Peppercorn lease is?’ Alison asked.

  Isabelle shook her head. ‘Not really.’

  ‘It’s a legal term. A metaphor. A peppercorn payment or peppercorn rent refers to a small or nominal payment which is made to satisfy the requirements for the creation of a binding legal contract,’ Rachel said.

  Isabelle frowned.

  ‘It’s not legal for us to offer you a contract for free rent,’ Jack explained. ‘The idea of a Peppercorn lease dates back several centuries when a peppercorn was paid as a nominal rent. We have four houses we want to offer for rent, but in order for the contract to be valid and binding, it has to be written so that the person paying rent gives something of value, a token sum, a peppercorn, if you like.

  In this case, you’ll pay a nominal amount of rent – one dollar a week – for the whole year. After that, the rent will revert to stan
dard rent prices, which I assure you will be less than half what you’d pay in Torquay.’

  Isabelle nodded. It all sounded fair and reasonable. Surely in twelve months’ time she would be back on her feet financially and emotionally? Then she could make a decision about her long-term future.

  ‘How do you plan to support yourself while you live here?’ Alison asked.

  ‘Do you mean, as in working?’ Isabelle asked.

  Alison nodded. ‘It’s not a prerequisite, but part of the idea of bringing people into town is we want to help them get back on their feet. We think working and getting involved in the community is the way to do that.’

  ‘In other words, you don’t want dole bludgers.’ Isabelle wriggled in her seat. ‘I understand, but for now, I’m still relying on government assistance. I’ll get the kids settled into school, then I’m happy to do anything. I can help at the school or work as a checkout chick.’ Isabelle laughed. ‘That’s if you have a supermarket.’

  ‘We do,’ Alison said with a smile. ‘But it’s only an IGA with one register. The population doesn’t warrant anything bigger.’

  ‘You said in your application that you’re a registered nurse,’ Rachel said, rifling through paperwork in her clipboard. ‘Are you currently nursing?’

  Waves of heat and nausea rolled over Isabelle as uninvited memories resurfaced. She hadn’t been able to work since Dan’s death. The thought of having to perform CPR again filled her with dread. She took a deep breath before responding. ‘No.’

  Rachel frowned.

  Did I say something wrong?

  ‘Are you still able to work as a nurse?’ Rachel asked. ‘Are you still registered?’

  ‘Yes. But—’

  Isabelle was about to explain when they were interrupted by a commotion at the door. She swivelled in her seat to see Fletcher being dragged in by a mountain of a man in a police uniform.

  Her heart somersaulted and slammed against her chest.

  Chapter 7

  The boy’s mother jumped so fast from her seat at the table that her chair tilted and fell backwards onto the old wooden floor. The crack of timber on timber echoed loudly in the old building, like a gunshot. She rushed to her son’s side and pulled him towards her in a tight embrace. Bright spots of colour burned in her pale cheeks and a flush crept up her neck.