Free Too Close to Home by Georgia Blain Page A

remarkably similar to the one she grew up with, a Bamix because she thinks she should start baking now that she is spending so much time at home. She even places a bid on a pair of shoes, safe in the knowledge that she’s unlikely to win.
    Eventually she is too tired to stay awake, and turning on the outside light, she goes to bed, knowing she probably won’t sleep. She will lie there, wanting to doze, but waiting for Matt to come home.

 
    SITTING IN SHANE’S BACK garden, Matt had felt at peace with the world. The neighbourhood was quiet, the streets deserted under the evening sky, the darkness broken by the soft glow of the lights from the kitchen and the sparks from the small fire Shane had built, more for comfort than any need for warmth. He and Shane had talked, at first about a new project, a house with five bedrooms and four bathrooms that he’d been detailing.
    â€˜There’ll only be two people living there.’ Matt shook his head. ‘When I asked them why they wanted such a large place, Simone took me aside and told me to zip it.’ He smiled. ‘I’m not suited to what I do, but I don’t know how else to earn a living.’
    Their conversation had turned to the kids, and Archie’s brush with the principal. On his second day, he’d taken one of the fire-extinguishers, opening it up on the playground. Shane’s laugh was throaty. ‘Gave him a talking-to but couldn’t keep a straight face. He’s just a kid. It’s what you do.’
    Matt had meant to leave earlier, to get home before Freya went to bed, but as the conversation had drifted back to Brisbane and people they knew, he’d stretchedout his legs, warm in front of the fire, and rolled another joint. Remembering that house, he’d smiled, his thoughts returning to Lisa again, and her small room out the back, the harshness of the sunlight filtered by the giant frangipani that grew outside her window, the creamy sweetness of the flowers pressed against the glass.
    He’d asked Shane what she was up to now, not even really wanting to know, his mind just idly turning in that direction, not expecting to alight anywhere in particular but to move on, leaving Lisa as he remembered her.
    It took some time before he began to filter through the information, the dates still hazy but settling with a colder certainty as he eventually stood to leave, aware now that he had stayed far longer than he’d intended.
    In fact, it’s well after midnight as he turns the key in the lock. His head is light from drinking, and his heart is racing, sending a speedy poison through his bloodstream as he goes back over his conversation with Shane. He tries to be quiet, but as Freya is a light sleeper, there’s probably no point. As he opens the bedroom door, she turns on the bedside lamp and he looks at her, eyes red and glazed.
    â€˜Sorry I was so long.’ His apology is mumbled and he undresses, gathering his clothes under one arm and standing naked in front of her. ‘Where will I put these?’ he asks, indicating his jeans and T-shirt, at the same time knowing how foolish his question is. He could leave them on the floor, take them to the laundry or hang them in the cupboard. It’s neither a hard decision, nor one he hasn’t made before. But everything is wrong, and he wishes he’d drunk a little less, and said no to another joint.
    Under the harshness of the bathroom light, he looks at himself and breathes deeply. He rinses his face with cool water. He needs to find calm.
    As he makes his way back through the darkness of the kitchen and into the hall, he stops to listen at Ella’s door. There’s not a sound. He gets into bed with Freya, her long limbs cool against the heat of his own skin, and he is restless, kicking the sheets off, unable to lie still.
    â€˜Can I tell you something?’ he eventually says.
    â€˜I guess so,’ she responds.
    There is silence