The Peppercorn Project

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The Peppercorn Project Page 27

by Nicki Edwards


  As Isabelle and Matt circulated through the crowd, Matt refused to take his arm from her waist and every now and his hand slipped lower, smoothing the fabric across the top of her buttocks.

  ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ Isabelle said as she pulled his arm higher for the tenth time. She loved the feeling, but they were in public.

  ‘Very much so,’ he replied, leaning forward and nuzzling the spot behind her ear. ‘But what I’m looking forward to is what comes later.’

  Isabelle squirmed as heat tore through her. ‘You might need to stop now or we’ll be the subject of some very juicy gossip tomorrow. They’ve run out of Hugo stories.’

  Matt chuckled. ‘Trust me, they’ll be talking about Hugo Thompson for years. Maybe I should make sure they have something more juicy to talk about than him.’

  ‘Surely you’d have to do something more risqué than just touching my bum,’ she teased.

  ‘What did you have in mind? A passionate kiss in the middle of the dance floor?’

  ‘Something like that,’ she said, lowering her eyes and taking in his body.

  Matt groaned. ‘Don’t do this to me, Issie.’ He leaned closer and lowered his voice. ‘Please tell me you’ve organised someone to look after the kids tonight.’

  ‘I have.’

  He nuzzled her neck and kissed her ear while his hand slid down her back and across her backside again. This time she didn’t stop him. He murmured in her ear. ‘Good, because you can expect another birthday present from me when this part of the night’s over.’

  Isabelle tilted her head back as his lips brushed her neck. ‘Mm, I’ll look forward to that, but you might need to step away from me now or I’m going to drag you out of here right now. If we did that, there’d be even more gossip.’

  ‘Oh, I’m all up for that,’ Matt replied, his breath still warm in her ear. It sent another tremor of pleasure through her belly. ‘You just let me know when you’re ready to leave.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Oh stuff it. Can we just pretend you’re Cinderella and it’s nearly midnight?’ Matt said with a laugh.

  She kept her eyes locked with his. ‘I thought you said I was Belle.’

  Matt stepped away from her and drew in a ragged breath. ‘Is it hot in here or is it just me?’ he asked, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt.

  Isabelle laughed. ‘It’s hot everywhere. There’s no way the air con can cope with this crowd.’

  ‘Perhaps we should go outside, check if the cool change has come through.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘He shucked off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. ‘If we’re going to stay, let’s get this party started, birthday girl. Wanna hit the dance floor?’

  Isabelle grinned. ‘You know that makes you sound old, don’t you?’

  He shrugged. ‘It is what it is. I’m a nearly forty-year-old bachelor.’

  Matt grabbed her tightly and steered her into the middle of the room. He moved with a natural rhythm and within seconds, Isabelle figured out he was an excellent dancer.

  ‘I thought you’d said you didn’t dance.’

  ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t dance,’ he said. ‘I just don’t do it often.’

  ‘Why not? You’re good,’ she replied as he spun her around. She loved dancing but Dan’s two left feet made him better on water than land.

  ‘Because dancing is something that should only be done between two people who both enjoy it.’

  She fixed him with a questioning gaze.

  ‘My ex,’ he explained. ‘Simone didn’t like to dance.’

  That was Simone’s loss. Isabelle loved the way Matt held her and led her through the steps. He was tall, but their bodies fit together perfectly. For the first time, she was glad Leah had convinced her to buy heels.

  As the music swirled around her, Isabelle gave herself to the moment, conscious of nothing – not even the smiling glances of the locals. All she felt was Matt’s arms around her, holding her close and keeping her safe and protected.

  She never wanted the feeling to end.

  *

  ‘Does this mean you two are finally together?’ Leah asked, looking from Isabelle to him. The band had taken a break and they were able to talk without having to shout. He and Isabelle had been about to head outside to the creek to escape the heat and noise when Leah intercepted them.

  Isabelle was looking up at him, waiting for his reply. Everything inside him wanted to shout, yes, they were a couple, but Isabelle needed to be the one who made that decision. He was just waiting. He draped his arm loosely across her shoulders. Her skin was so perfectly smooth that it took him a second to gather his scattered thoughts. Their earlier flirting almost had him scooping her up in his arms and taking her home immediately, regardless of how inappropriate it might be and how many tongues would be set wagging.

  Looking at Leah he said, ‘I haven’t asked her out properly yet.’ He then turned to Isabelle with a cheeky grin, ‘Well, what do you reckon, Issie? Wanna be my girlfriend?’

  ‘I—’ Isabelle began.

  ‘No way!’ Leah interrupted, holding her hands up like a stop sign. ‘That was the most unromantic offer ever.’ She shoved Matt in the arm. ‘You need to get down on one knee or something. Go and ask her out properly. And make it memorable!’

  Matt winked at Isabelle. ‘Let’s go for a walk, birthday girl.’ He leaned in closer so only she could hear. ‘Perhaps a long walk via the creek back to your place?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Isabelle said lightly, accepting his hand.

  Matt grasped her hand, lacing their fingers together, loving the way her tiny hand fit so well into his much larger one. They walked outside and he sighed. It was still as hot as an oven.

  ‘The cool change can’t be far away,’ he said, dropping her hand to roll up his shirtsleeves. He vaguely recalled leaving his jacket somewhere inside, but going back to look for it was at the bottom of his current list of priorities. Getting Isabelle home was at the top. Anticipation tore through him faster than a bushfire.

  Isabelle pulled a hair tie from her bag and piled her hair on top of her head. Loose curls still framed her beautiful face, but Matt wanted to pull the band out and let her hair tumble down around her face again. Then he wanted to kiss her and never stop.

  She bent over, giving him a perfect view of her perfect backside. She pulled off her heels and slid the thongs onto her feet.

  He groaned softly. ‘Do you have any idea what that does to me?’

  She grinned, indicating she had every idea. She held the heels up in the air by their straps. ‘Much better,’ she exclaimed. ‘But don’t tell Leah.’

  Lightning lit the sky and Isabelle dropped her shoes in surprise, squeezing his arm tightly. Pleasure coursed through him. He inhaled deeply and drew her around so she faced him. Without her heels, she was tiny, the top of her head barely reaching his chest. He traced his fingers slowly down the length of her spine. She sighed with pleasure and pressed her body closer. He nearly came undone. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Ignoring the building storm around them, Matt inhaled again, drawing in her sweet fragrance and blocking out everything else. As he leaned closer to kiss her, a movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye and he pulled away.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Isabelle asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  Chapter 36

  Isabelle turned and saw Joe step outside the hall. The light spilling out the doorway was poor, but even from a distance she could tell he didn’t look well. Maybe he was just tired. He pulled his keys out from his pocket. Was she imagining a tremor in his hands? She shook off her misgivings. He was an old man and it was a late night.

  ‘I’ll see ya tomorrow,’ Joe called out to someone inside.

  Isabelle frowned. ‘Where’s Joe off to at this time of night?’ A shiver of warning raced through her. Something was wrong.

  ‘Port Augusta. I overheard him telling someone th
at one of their boys is stranded with a broken down car and he’s headed there to pick him up.’

  ‘It’s late. Should he be driving? Has he been drinking?’

  ‘He’ll be okay, and he’d never drink and drive. Come on, let’s go home.’

  Matt took her arm and drew her down the path away from the hall towards the creek. The air was still and thick, with no hint of a breeze. It would be nice to walk home and untangle the knots of anticipation that were twisting around in her stomach.

  Joe was climbing into his car as they reached the road.

  ‘Will his old rust bucket make it that far?’ Isabelle asked.

  ‘As old as it looks, it is roadworthy, so I can’t pull it off the road,’ Matt said, ‘although I wish I could.’

  The old car grumbled to life and Isabelle watched it roll slowly down the street. At the corner, Joe didn’t use his indicator, or slow down, but travelled straight ahead into the path of a car approaching the corner from the other direction. With a blaring horn and a screech of tyres, the other car swerved out of the way.

  Instantly alert, Isabelle heard herself shouting, her voice blending with Matt’s. They both raced towards Joe’s car as it bounced over the kerb onto the footpath and crashed into the front window of the farm supplies shop. Steam from the burst radiator hissed into the air and the horn blared.

  Isabelle tried to keep up with Matt, glad she’d ditched her heels in favour of her thongs, but he was sprinting down the middle of the road and she was losing him with every stride. By the time she made it to the car, Matt had already yanked open the front driver’s door. Her brain screamed at her to remember what she should be doing. Something about danger. She yelled at Matt to slow down, but he ignored her. Joe was slumped forward and Matt flung him back in the seat. Mercifully the horn stopped.

  Isabelle’s brain went into slow motion. What came next? Danger was first, then ‘response’. It was all coming back. Send for help. But help was already here. Matt was here. She was here.

  ‘Issie. Isabelle!’ Matt yelled at her, ‘you have to help me pull him out. I think he’s had a heart attack.’

  Fear ricocheted around her head. ‘Is he dead?’

  He looked dead.

  Memories slammed into her like a fist into a gut. She reeled backwards, buckled over, regained her footing, tried to breathe. Her husband’s face before her. Eyes wide open and staring, unseeing, into the sky. She was going to vomit.

  Matt didn’t bother checking for a pulse, but lunged in and wrapped his arms around Joe, pulling him from the car in one fluid movement. Isabelle closed her eyes as more memories crowded in.

  ‘Isabelle!’

  Matt yelled at her again, his voice sounding tinny in her ears. She felt like she was going to faint. She opened her eyes and Joe was lying on the concrete footpath, Matt kneeling beside him, checking for signs of life.

  A primal scream sounded and Isabelle looked around, before she realised it had come from her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fists to the side of her head, willing the pain to go away. Her chest, her lungs, her throat were on fire. She opened her eyes, saw black spots and closed them again. Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears, like waves crashing on the beach. Memories were still flooding in relentlessly and Isabelle fought the rising nausea as she tried to slow her breathing. Fear clawed at her and she felt her knees give way. She sank to the ground and forced herself to look at Joe.

  The steering wheel had cut a deep gash across the bridge of his nose. Strangely, it wasn’t bleeding, but by the look on Matt’s face, Joe was in serious trouble. What was she supposed to do? Matt was speaking, but she couldn’t make out the meaning of his words.

  Then it hit her and panic ripped through her.

  No pulse.

  Her chest tightened and she willed herself to breathe, to relax, to focus.

  It wasn’t working. Her legs lost all feeling and she crumpled at Matt’s side.

  The sound of running feet came towards them, and a woman’s voice, yelling, screaming, crying out. Then Jane was there, squatting by her husband’s side on the footpath. Her features looked haggard as shadows danced across her face. The streetlights flickered on, casting a ghostly yellow glow.

  Matt crouched down on his knees, eyes wild, as he tipped Joe’s head back to make sure his airway was clear.

  ‘CPR, Isabelle! You have to start CPR!’

  She froze. Her ears filled with a whooshing noise again, increasing in volume, and she wanted to clamp her hands over them to block out the sound. Couldn’t anyone else hear it?

  ‘Someone get the bloody defib from the pub,’ Matt shouted. He was used to giving orders and having people listen to him. ‘Isabelle, for God’s sake, start CPR!’

  ‘I can’t!’ she cried.

  Matt pushed past her and put two hands on Joe’s sternum. Ribs cracked as he pumped the old man’s chest. The crowd swirled around her, voices low, mumbling. She was supposed to do something, but she couldn’t remember what. She was petrified and paralysed. Matt kept pummelling Joe’s chest, trying to circulate blood to his body, not bothering with rescue breaths.

  Still no pulse.

  Jane sat on the ground, clutching her own chest. Her hands scrunched the front of her dress and she pulled at it, as though trying to loosen her own pain.

  Others arrived and someone dumped the yellow plastic defibrillator box onto the ground beside them. Isabelle opened it on autopilot. A man’s robotic voice sounded. She’d never used an AED, except as part of her training at university. Once more Matt took the lead. He ripped open Joe’s shirt. Buttons popped into the air, landing and bouncing like ping-pong balls. Matt tore Joe’s singlet in half as if it was made of tissue paper. Leaning across Isabelle, he yanked the pads and leads from her trembling hands and attached them to Joe’s body in two places. He made it look easy, as if he’d done it dozens of times before.

  The mechanical voice sounded. ‘Preparing shock. Move away from the patient.’

  ‘Stand clear!’ Matt shouted, causing her to spring back.

  ‘Shock will be delivered in three, two, one—’

  Joe’s body convulsed slightly as the charge flashed through him. Everyone sat back, waiting for the machine to perform its magic as it analysed the rhythm of Joe’s heart. Nothing. No rhythm. Matt commenced CPR again, waiting for the machine to give him further instructions. Jane’s eyes were wide open in horror as she watched the proceedings. The hot air was thick with anguish and fear.

  ‘Stand clear again,’ Matt commanded.

  The machine zapped Joe again. His body jerked, his eyes opened.

  ‘He needs help.’ Matt’s voice was curt as he glared at her. ‘Go, Isabelle! Get help. There’s a hall filled with emergency services people. Get someone!’

  For someone usually so calm and in control, Isabelle had never seen him so upset. She tried to swallow, but a rock felt as if it had lodged itself in her airways. She turned and bolted back up the street.

  *

  Moments later a small crowd of emergency personnel huddled around Joe. Isabelle had never felt such relief when they arrived and took over. Joe was awake but drowsy. He was still a pasty grey colour and perspiration glazed his forehead. Although his heart was pumping, it probably wasn’t enough to provide adequate blood to his brain or extremities. Fear chased itself up and down her spine.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Joe mumbled as Alison cut off the remainder of his singlet and applied five round sticky dots to his hairy chest. Joe tugged at the remnants of his shirt, attempting to pull it back over his body and maintain his dignity. She connected him to the monitor, and Isabelle winced when she saw Joe’s heart rate and blood pressure glow green on the screens – slow and low. A low blood pressure meant Joe’s organs, most particularly his heart, weren’t getting enough blood flow.

  ‘What the bloody hell happened?’ Joe asked, looking up at the faces around him. His eyes finally rested on Matt. ‘What’s goin’ on?’

 
; ‘Your heart stopped, you silly old bugger. Now sit still and let us do our job.’

  Less than half an hour later an ambulance left, bound for the hospital at Booleroo. Once the blood tests were analysed, Joe would either stay there or be flown to Adelaide.

  Isabelle walked home alone. The heat of the day remained trapped in the small town and it came at her in hot thick waves, wrapping itself around her shoulders like a blanket. At that moment, she craved the feel of the icy cold ocean. If she could have, she would have dived under the waves and never come up again.

  Matt hadn’t spoken to her once since barking instructions at her to call for help. He hadn’t looked at her either. She’d left the scene deflated and defeated.

  In the one moment where it truly counted, she hadn’t been able to do her job. Again.

  When she arrived home, she stripped off her dress, took a shower, climbed into bed, curled herself into a ball and tried to fall asleep. It proved impossible. No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to switch off. She’d stuffed up. She hadn’t done her job properly, and because of her ineptitude, Joe could have died.

  Silent tears coursed down her cheeks and all her miserable thoughts came back to one big question. How was she going to cope when everyone knew the truth? After all the effort they’d made to help her, she didn’t even have what it took to help one of their own.

  Night fell and she prayed her failure would be covered under the blanket of blackness.

  *

  When Matt opened the door to his house later that night, well after midnight, the sky was an inky black and thick clouds covered the moon. Finally, after the heat of the day, there was a faint hint of a cool breeze. He switched on the air conditioner and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Emptying his suit pockets of his keys and phone, he sank into the couch and took a long pull of his drink.

  ‘Happy New Year’, he said aloud.

  Loosening his tie further, he kicked off his boots and put his feet up on the table. His mind was in turmoil. The night had nearly ended in disaster. Joe was alive and in the safe hands of the staff in Booleroo, but the outcome could have been very different.

 

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