Matts wants me to take a risk. He wants me to trust him.
The universe tilts when we kiss. That’s not friendship, it’s …
I freeze at the bottom of the stairs.
Is it time to put a name to it? Am I in love with him?
We arranged to meet in the courtyard where the hotel serves breakfast. What will we talk about? Rivers. Wetlands. Frogs and birds. Droughts and floods.
More. What is that? Commitment? Short term? Long term? Forever?
What about my home?
‘Are you lost, love?’ Last night’s barman is wearing a red-checked apron and carrying a basket of bread. ‘You looking for breakfast? He points to a door at the end of the corridor. ‘The others are already there.’
The courtyard is paved with bricks, the perimeter marked by rectangular planters. The mint, parsley and rosemary are thriving, but the coriander is wilted and yellowed. Shaggy, bright green carrot tops burst from the pot closest to the table where Matts is sitting. His back is to me, but Cassie sits opposite him. She waves.
‘Sapphie! Good morning!’
Matts turns in his chair, but I’m not yet ready to face him. I lean over the table to hug Cassie. ‘This is a surprise.’
‘Very last minute, but Matts thought having another committee member might help to take the load off you. We had no intention of gatecrashing breakfast, but Ray’—she smiles at the middle-aged man wearing a Crocodile Dundee hat sitting next to her—‘wanted to meet up early.’
Ray stands and holds out his hand. ‘Ray Bainsbridge. Nice to see you again.’
‘You’re an ornithologist, aren’t you? From Bathurst?’
‘That’s me.’ He smooths his neat goatee beard between his thumb and index finger. ‘Thanks for having me along.’
Matts stands. He smiles stiffly. ‘Sapphie. Can we talk?’
His jaw is perfectly smooth. His shirt is tucked in. I walk to the far side of the planter box with the carrot tops, much deeper than the one I have outside my classroom. I run my fingers over the lacy fronds.
Matts frowns as he stands in front of me, blocking the others from view. ‘I didn’t know they’d be here.’
Less than an hour ago, he was tousle-haired and … I clear my throat. ‘You asked them to meet us later this morning though, didn’t you? Cassie said it was very last minute.’
‘I called her the day before yesterday.’
‘When you called Hugo and Mr Chambers? Is your whole life like this, Matts? You click your fingers and people come running?’
He kisses my lips so swiftly that they barely have time to soften. ‘Not you,’ he mutters.
My skin heats. ‘They’re waiting for us.’
When he crosses his arms, it pulls his shirt tightly across his shoulders. ‘I want to tell the truth, Sapphie. That we grew up together.’
The orange part of the carrot is the root. Some folk end up where they should have started out in the first place. For me, that’s Horseshoe.
‘Why is it so important?’
‘It’s our past.’
He’s not touching me, but I wish that he would. I wish we could go back to bed so he could hold on to me and I could hold on to him. We could think things through together. We could tell the truth.
I clear my throat. ‘I talked to Gus about you, but I didn’t tell him about our childhood. Gus is like you—he values honesty. I’d want to tell him first.’
Cassie’s laughter peels out. ‘Ray!’
‘We have to go.’
He takes my hand as if I haven’t spoken. ‘You’re pale, Sapphie. You’re tired.’
‘It’s you who stayed up all night. I’m okay.’
‘Your father, the roads … Today won’t be easy.’ He turns my hand in his. ‘Do you want to stay here? I’ll come back as soon as I can.’
I shake my head. ‘It’s better to be busy and …’ When my hand flutters, he tightens his hold. ‘I’ve come all this way.’ I try to smile but it wobbles. ‘I might as well see your wetlands.’
His lip lifts. ‘Yes.’
When we return to the table, Ray shuffles over on the bench, so I slip into the seat next to him. He offers me the bread basket and I take a roll, sprinkled with poppy seeds and shaped into a knot. I dip a spoon into a jar of marmalade.
‘I ordered tea,’ Matts says. ‘Is that what you wanted?’
‘Thank you.’ I lower my gaze as I break the roll in half. Poppy seeds, scores of black full stops, spray across the plate and onto the table.
Cassie smiles. ‘That reminds me. How are you progressing with Gus’s Remembrance Day flowers?’
‘I’m almost done.’ I spread marmalade on the roll. ‘He needed extra poppies this year, because there are so many children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren attending the services in November.’
‘Sapphie makes crepe paper flowers,’ Cassie tells Ray.
Matts’s head was bowed, but he looks up. ‘You make poppies?’ he asks.
The memory dances between us. A Remembrance Day afternoon tea was held at the Governor-General’s residence in Canberra every November. I’d agreed to attend with my father not only because I knew that Matts would be there, but because it would be one less thing he could hold against Mum. Dad hadn’t gone into politics yet, but often mixed with MPs. By then I was fifteen, and understood what was required. I had to listen closely, nod with interest and answer questions politely.
There was a vase of fiery red poppies on each of the tables. It would have been too late in the year for poppies to grow in Canberra, so they must have been grown in a greenhouse or flown in from Europe. They’re an old-fashioned flower, so it was surprising that Gran and I had never sat at her laminated table and made them together. I took one of the poppies from the vase and walked to a shady spot to examine it more closely. I’m not sure why my father followed me, but by the time he’d caught up, I’d carefully pulled the flower apart and was pondering the shapes of the petals, filament and anther. He was telling me off for destroying an emblem of courage and sacrifice by the time Matts joined us. He took the pieces of the poppy out of my hand and shoved them into his pocket as if to hide evidence. ‘Sapphire wouldn’t intentionally offend anyone,’ he said to my father.
Matts had been avoiding me all afternoon. Is that why I was as furious with him as I was with Robert, who hadn’t given me a chance to explain? As soon as my father walked away, I turned on Matts. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘To get rid of him.’
My fists were clenched. ‘Why do you care how he treats me?’
‘You think I don’t?’ He glared. ‘When will you grow up?’
Walking away, he swung a foot as if booting a ball and a clod of earth flew into the air. When he came back, his hands were shoved into his pockets. I was midway through my growth spurt, but he was seventeen and far taller. We stood toe to toe and he looked at my mouth. His lips were slightly apart. He dipped his head and I lifted my face. For a fraction of a second I thought that we’d …
I keep my eyes firmly fixed on my poppy seed roll, the knot untied and the soft white bread sticky with marmalade. Even though I’m still waiting on the tea, I turn the cup in its saucer, pick it up and put it down again. It’s taken a long time to work it out, but now I know.
Matts had wanted to kiss me.
I’d wanted to kiss him back.
The following week, my mother was taken away.
My plate is awash with poppy seeds by the time I’ve finished my roll. As the others talk around me, I lick my thumb and press it against the tiny black dots, picking them up in twos and threes.
‘Sapphie.’ Matts’s brows are drawn.
I take my thumb out of my mouth. ‘Yes?’
He opens his mouth and slams it shut. His gaze slides to my thumb. His colour deepens as he leans across the table and puts a blue-and-white striped teapot to the left of my plate.
‘Drink your tea, Kissa,’ he says under his breath. ‘It’s almost time to go.’