By the time I reach the front door, there are two sets of knocks. I open it to see Mary, her hair neatly tied in two long plaits, bobbing up and down on the doormat. Archie, looking at his feet but smiling, stands next to her. Barney leans on the gate next to the kangaroo paw bush. The flowers are deep tones of mustard, bright against the fence.
‘Dad said you hurt your foot,’ Mary says, looking at the bandage and frowning momentarily. ‘Gus tried to call but you didn’t answer so he called Dad. He’ll be here at eight o’clock.’
‘Gus or your dad?’
‘Gus.’ She grins. ‘Dad’s ploughing early because he thinks it’s going to rain soon so he took me to Archie’s house. But his mum had to go to work too, so Barney is taking me and Archie to the horses.’
I look over her head to Barney. ‘It’s only seven o’clock.’
‘They were driving me nuts so I said I’d take them early.’
‘They need supervision. I’ll tag along with whoever Gus gets a lift with, but the other volunteers won’t be there until nine.’
‘That’s why we came here first.’
By the time Matts appears, dressed in jeans and the T-shirt he threw into the corner of my bedroom last night, Mary and Archie are sitting at the kitchen bench eating toast and Vegemite, and Barney is sitting on the floor near the fridge with a bowl of Weet-Bix in his lap. Tumbleweed is curled up next to him on his mat. I put a hip-length waterproof jacket over my pyjamas before I answered the door. Matts glances at it and raises his brows.
‘Good morning, Sapphie.’
‘I know you!’ Mary says, licking Vegemite off her finger before holding out her hand like Matts did when he introduced himself in the paddock at the youth centre.
He shakes her hand solemnly. ‘Good morning, Mary.’ He looks around and frowns. ‘You have forgotten Mischief again?’
She grins. ‘He had to stay home.’
When Barney puts down his spoon and holds his hand above his head, Matts high-fives it.
‘How’s the climbing?’ he asks.
‘Better than it was.’
‘Who are you?’ Archie asks Matts.
‘His name is Matts,’ Mary says. ‘He was at the farmhouse when you got into trouble for scaring the horses.’
‘Where’s he from?’ Archie asks, hopping off his stool.
‘I’m from Finland,’ Matts says.
‘Finland makes Nokia phones,’ Archie says. ‘Do you make Nokia phones?’
‘Matts is an engineer,’ I say. ‘You like building things too, Archie. That might be something you and Matts can talk about. Would you like to introduce yourself before you ask any more questions?’
‘My name is Archie.’ He jumps up and down on the spot. ‘Finland is the biggest manufacturer of paper in the world.’
Matts talks to Archie, in a very serious way, about renewable pine forests. And he’s no less serious when he says goodbye to the children and Barney and tells me he’ll see me at the door. When we step over the threshold to the porch, I close the door behind me. His overnight bag is at the top of the steps.
‘Don’t go to the farmhouse,’ he says.
‘I go there every Saturday.’
‘Your foot is painful.’
I lean my bottom against the desk. ‘I’ll ice it before I leave, and restrict myself to the office once I get there. I can put it up on a chair.’
We stare at each other, but I don’t know that either of us knows what to say next. I look away first, facing the desk and running a finger along the indentation at the top.
He comes closer, leaning over my shoulder to straighten the collar of the waterproof. When the tips of his fingers brush my neck, warmth seeps through my veins.
‘I don’t want to leave like this,’ he says.
‘You were supposed to be in Canberra yesterday. What time is your flight?’
‘When I cancelled, they put me on the next one. Ten.’
A flock of lorikeets rise up from the trees in the playground and fly towards the creek. Will they squawk all the way to the farmhouse?’
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘Things …’
He strokes my hair, wraps a lock around his wrist. ‘The farmhouse?’
‘It’s always meant a lot.’
He releases my hair and puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘I could stay here until the end of the week.’
‘What? When I have to be back at work on Monday morning?’ I shake my head. ‘Anyway, I don’t need to be looked after.’
He growls as he turns me around. ‘That’s not what I’d be here for.’
When I stroke the crease between his brows, he kisses my wrist. ‘I’ll miss you, Matts, but you’re already later than you thought you’d be. And you have meetings all this week, don’t you?’
‘I can reschedule.’
‘Your schedule was arranged months and months ago.’
‘Don’t do anything about the farmhouse until I’ve seen Robert.’
It’s tempting to lean against him. He’d wrap his arms around me. He might even tell me that things will work out. The desk nudges the tops of my legs when I step back.
‘My father plays games. He makes deals. I refuse to do that. I’ll have to find somewhere else.’
He runs his hand through his hair. He walks to the other side of the porch. ‘If I go,’ he says, ‘I won’t be back until Saturday night.’
‘I know that already. I’m fine on my own.’
He mutters under his breath. ‘Long term, Sapphie. Remember that?’
My throat tightens. ‘I need to think things through.’
In two long strides, he’s standing as close as he was. ‘Be more specific.’
An old truck, open at the sides, honks as it turns off the loop road. It’s Freddie and Gus so it must be eight o’clock. I glance at my waterproof and the hems of my cream pyjama shorts.
‘I have to get ready. You have a flight.’
The sun streams onto the porch, so why are his eyes so inky and dark? He takes my hands. ‘Reassure me.’
I thread our fingers together. I stroke the back of his hand. I lift it and kiss the scratch on his wrist. ‘Last night and this morning was …’ My skin warms. ‘It was—I’ve never had anything like it. I’ll miss you and I hope that … It’s just that …’
He rests his forehead on mine. ‘You’re worried about the farmhouse and what your father might say about your mother. And whatever it was that scared you this morning.’
‘I wasn’t scared.’ I push back his hair. ‘But I can’t tell you about it and you resent that.’ When I kiss his cheek, his bristles are rough. ‘It’ll be settled by the time you come back. I’ll tell you everything then.’
‘One day, you’ll trust me.’
I nod bravely. ‘I’ll see you next Saturday.’
His car is parked a little way up the road, under the ironbark tree. Fallen leaves, green, brown and grey, are sprinkled all over the bonnet. He runs down the steps, lifting a hand to acknowledge Gus and Freddie. He shades his eyes from the sun and then he turns to me. He doesn’t wave. I don’t think he smiles.
Dark hair that lightens in sunshine.