Free Broken by Ilsa Evans Page B

charities. Salvos or whatever. Every now and then you get something unexpected.’ Beryl grinned, obviously relishing this facet. ‘Like the other week this young girl walks in offthe street with a baby and a suitcase. She’d come from interstate, had nowhere to go. Just hopped on a train and split! Y’know, between you and me, I reckon she was running away from some bloke.’
    â€˜That’s terrible.’
    â€˜Yeah, but gutsy too, don’t you reckon?’ Beryl continued without waiting for an answer. ‘She wasn’t saying why she shot through but I sent her over to the DV outreach anyway. They’ll organise her till she finds her feet.’
    â€˜What’s a DV outreach?’ asked Mattie curiously.
    â€˜Well, DV’s domestic violence of course. And the main centre’s in town so they have outreach services for us in the suburbs. But the point is,’ Beryl indicated the folded paper in Mattie’s hand just as the phone rang from within the office – ‘you’ll have a ball. Trust me.’
    â€˜Well, thanks for your help.’
    â€˜No problem. Hopefully we’ll be seeing you soon!’
    Mattie moved away as Beryl slid the window closed and then made her way back to her chair where she picked up the telephone again. Hesitant to leave just yet, Mattie only went as far as the noticeboard where she started perusing the signs more thoroughly. She absently straightened Ben’s ‘missing’ poster while she wondered if he’d ever been found, or whether Tamara received any babysitting jobs, or whether Wendy actually made a living from cleaning other people’s houses. And did anybody ever respond to the notices about the dangers of smoking while pregnant, and breast examinations, and domestic violence? What about requests for people to join a weightloss support group, or help out with the community newspaper, or hold a Tupperware party?
    Mattie’s eyes flicked back to the little printed square extolling the virtues of a Tupperware party and, as she read it through again, a brilliant idea seeded itself in her mind. Not a Tupperware party, but something party-plan, something a bit different. The excuse to do something proactive, to ring up old friends and maybe turn those who were just acquaintances into actual friends. And it wouldn’t matter if not too many came, because with party-plan it was acceptable to have any number between three and thirty. It wasn’t like throwing an actualparty where numbers made a statement that could be lethal. No, this was foolproof. It was perfect.
    The day passed quickly. After leaving the community centre, Mattie stopped off at the library and researched party-plan options on the Internet. She left feeling even more motivated, with a list of possibilities as well as a couple of novels and a leaflet about a book club that met once a month. When she got home, she made herself a cup of coffee and got to work. First, she narrowed her list of possibilities down to three and then spent some time mulling over them before choosing her favourite. Called Whimsicalities, it offered an eclectic mix of pottery, giftware and ‘whimsical knick-knacks’ that were ‘absolutely guaranteed to entertain you and your friends’. Mattie made the call, reaching the consultant on her mobile and booking a party for a Saturday afternoon in three weeks’ time, in mid-November. The consultant, Sharon, gave her a rather breathless spiel about the range of products and promised to drop some invitations around soon. Mattie hung up, feeling an odd mix of trepidation and triumph.
    She spent most of the afternoon happily making lists. A list of people to invite, a list of food to serve, a list of groceries to purchase. It was fun. And she felt invigorated, both by the knowledge that things were starting to fall into place, and by the awareness that she was helping them along. Being proactive. After the lists