The Peppercorn Project (16 page)

Isabelle gently pulled away the wound dressing from Tom’s fragile skin, and recoiled at the stench rising straight to her nostrils. The wound was big – she estimated ten centimetres in diameter – and deep. To Isabelle’s inexperienced eyes, it looked infected. She leaned closer, her nose scrunched against the smell, and studied it for a moment.

‘What does it look like then, love?’

‘I’ve seen worse,’ she lied. She’d never seen anything like it except in a textbook.

‘Which is another way of saying it’s bad, I’d reckon,’ Tom said, grinning at her, displaying a missing front tooth.

Isabelle remained silent as she continued to examine the wound, her mind scrolling through possible dressing solutions that might work.

‘I hear you and young Matt Robertson are spending a fair bit of time together.’

Isabelle’s head snapped up. ‘Matt’s popped over a couple of times,’ she stammered. When had her private business become the whole town’s public business?

‘I reckon you’d be good for him,’ Tom continued, undaunted.

Isabelle chose not to reply as she pulled the stainless steel dressing trolley closer.

‘He’s a good bloke, but he needs to find a nice young girl like you. Otherwise he’s going to become a crusty old bachelor.’

With her back to him, Isabelle washed her hands then undid the dressing pack, willing the old man to stop giving her his opinions. A crusty old bachelor! What would Matt think of that description?

Isabelle emptied all the dressings onto the sterile field and opened a packet of saline, which she poured into the plastic container.

‘He’d be good for ya kids too, I reckon.’

Isabelle wished he’d be quiet. After washing her hands again, she fought with a pair of rubber gloves until she finally had each of her fingers in the correct places. Tom kept giving his opinions about how well suited she was for Matt. When Hugo arrived she gave him a ‘Thank God you’re here’ grimace.

‘Jeez, Tom.’ Hugo stared at the wound. ‘What a mess. How long has it been since you’ve had the dressings changed?’

‘I dunno,’ Tom replied. ‘It doesn’t hurt, so I tend to forget about it. Alison did ’em a couple of weeks back.’

Hugo rolled his eyes at Isabelle as he proceeded to pull dressing products from the shelf and hand them to her. She soon had Tom fixed and on his way back home, with strict instructions for when he was to return. But she doubted she’d see him again unless he had more relationship advice on offer.

Isabelle’s next patient was a young girl of fifteen, although judging by the amount of heavy makeup she wore it was obvious she wanted to look much older. According to the records Isabelle pulled up on the computer, Jessica Simpkin came into the clinic regularly to have her arms sutured after she had cut herself. She was also a known drug user. Isabelle watched her through the small window overlooking the waiting room. She waited until Hugo’s last patient had left before knocking on his door.

‘Come in.’

Isabelle pushed the door open. Hugo leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head. The action pulled his shirt slightly out from his pants, exposing a flash of skin at his narrow waist. She averted her eyes, but not before she had a flashback to Dan’s body. The similarity between the two men’s physiques was remarkable.

She shook her head. Now was not the time to start thinking about
that
.

‘There’s a young girl in the waiting room. Jessica Simpkin.’

Hugo sighed deeply. ‘Let me guess? New cuts?’

‘I presume,’ Isabelle said. ‘Her arm is bandaged.’

‘Jessica comes in regularly. I’ve known her since she was born. I didn’t realise she was back in town. I thought she was living in Port Augusta with her mother.’

‘Did you grow up here?’ Isabelle asked.

‘Yes.’ Hugo ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Although I spent most of the year away at boarding school, I still know everyone in town. It’s hard not to know Jess. Could you please clean up her wounds as best as you can? I’ll come in and either suture them up, or hopefully they won’t be too deep and I’ll get you to put steri-strips on them. Okay?’

Isabelle nodded. But it wasn’t okay. How was she supposed to treat a child who cut herself? A girl who used drugs? A girl hardly older than her own son? Surely she should be doing more than simply stitching her up and sending her on her way.

Isabelle retrieved the metal trolley from the storage room again and loaded the equipment she’d need onto the bottom tray, before going out to call her patient to the treatment room.

‘Hi, Jessica,’ she said. ‘I’m Isabelle. I’m the new nurse.’

‘Hey! Nice to meet you.’ Jessica’s friendly tone surprised Isabelle. ‘I hear you’re one of the new Peppercorn families.’

‘I am,’ Isabelle replied, as she carefully removed the blood-soaked sanitary pads Jessica had applied on her arms at home. Sticky tape wound its way around her pale arms. As Isabelle worked, the young girl chatted amiably about a television program she’d watched the night before. Isabelle found it hard to concentrate on what she was saying. The pads were stuck to the open wounds in some places, and when Isabelle tried to pull the dressings off they tugged taut at Jessica’s skin.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Isabelle said, wincing herself.

‘It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt,’ she replied stoically. ‘Besides, I’m used to it.’

She had thin white scars along both forearms – vertical and horizontal lines crisscrossing her skin like a pirate’s treasure map. Today, the pale white pathways intersected with bright fresh red cuts – three in Jessica’s left arm and one in her right. Each was around five to seven centimetres long, all gaping wide. No chance of using steri-strips; Jessica would need stitches.

‘Would you like to lie down while I wash these out?’ Isabelle asked.

‘No, it’s okay. I’m happy to watch.’

‘It’s going to hurt, but I’ll be as gentle as I can.’

‘Don’t worry. It’s fine.’

Isabelle opened the disposable dressing pack and squirted normal saline into the plastic container. Using the plastic forceps, she placed the pieces of folded gauze into the water and balled them up ready for use.

Hugo stuck his head around the corner. ‘How’s it going?’

‘I’m just about to clean her wounds.’

‘How are you doing, Jess?’

‘Hi, Hugo.’

Isabelle raised her eyebrows at their informal greeting.

‘I’m glad you’re here.  I don’t like that foreign guy over in Booleroo.’

‘Jess,’ Hugo cautioned. He peered over Isabelle’s shoulder and gently sighed. ‘They’ll need suturing.’

Jessica nodded. ‘I thought they were deep, that’s why I came in. Also I heard I could get some—’

‘The local’s going to sting, but you already know that,’ Hugo cut her off.

Jessica nodded again. She placed her arms on the dressing trolley while Hugo washed his hands and donned sterile gloves. She clearly knew the procedure well.

Isabelle opened a suture pack and placed other items onto the sterile field.

‘Can you open up the local, please?’ Hugo asked her.

She took the small ampoule of lignocaine, snapped the plastic top off, and held it out to Hugo. He used a fine needle to withdraw the solution into a syringe before injecting it into Jessica’s arm. She barely flinched. The areas of skin swelled and turned white as Hugo repeated the injections until the syringe was empty.

Hugo didn’t wait for the local anaesthetic to work before he began a more thorough cleaning of Jessica’s wounds. When he was satisfied the local had taken effect, he sutured all the cuts. The whole procedure took less than twenty minutes.

‘You’ll have to come back in ten days to have the stitches removed,’ he advised as he removed his gloves and washed his hands.

‘I know, I know. Watch for signs of infection. Swelling, redness, pain, heat,’ she replied nonchalantly. ‘I know it so well I could be a nurse myself. Will you be here when I came back in?’

‘Isabelle or Alison can remove the stitches. You don’t need to see me.’

‘Oh. Okay.’ Jessica looked disappointed but she brushed it off, shrugging her shoulders. She slid off the bed. ‘Thanks. See you next time. Nice to meet you, Isabelle.’

After Jessica left the clinic, Isabelle turned to Hugo. ‘Why does she do it?’ she asked.

‘Long history of emotional and physical abuse from when she was a little kid,’ Hugo said. ‘Plus the drugs don’t help. She cuts herself when she’s high. She inflicts pain on herself to take away from the mental pain she feels whenever she sees her abuser.’

Isabelle frowned. ‘Why does she keep seeing her abuser?’

‘He’s her father.’

‘What?’ Isabelle was gobsmacked.

‘Yeah, I know. But she won’t lay charges against him.’

‘But why does she keep going to see him?’

‘She comes back to Stony Creek to see her grandmother. Sometimes that means she runs into her father. In more ways than one.’

Isabelle felt sick to the stomach. ‘That’s awful.’

‘Yes it is,’ Hugo replied. ‘He’s been reported, but Jess refuses to lay charges.’

He walked out, leaving Isabelle to clean the trolley and put it away.

*

Isabelle’s first day flew and finishing time came quickly. Along with tending to dressings, she’d taken two ECGs and given a tetanus injection to an old farmer who had cut his hand on a piece of rusty equipment. As Alison had promised, none of the tasks was difficult, and as the day progressed, Isabelle’s confidence soared.

She waited until Hugo was between patients before sticking her head into his room. ‘Um …’ She hesitated. ‘I’m finished for the day. Is that okay?’

Hugo stood and flicked his head back. ‘Absolutely.’ He checked his watch and frowned. ‘It’s after three thirty. You should have finished on time.’

She blushed. ‘I wanted to say goodbye. It didn’t seem right to just walk out.’

‘I’ve seen my last patient for the day anyway. Did you have a good first day?’

‘Actually, you know what? I have.’

‘So you’ll be back tomorrow?’

‘Yes, of course I will.’

‘As will I. Same time, same place. I’ll see if I can drum up something more exciting for your second day,’ he teased, giving her a wink.

‘Oh no, please don’t. I’m not sure I’d cope.’

‘Yes, you would,’ he said.

The front door of the clinic squeaked open. A nervous looking man entered and Hugo ushered him straight into the consulting room without a proper greeting. Isabelle frowned and a shiver went down her spine. Why had Hugo said he’d finished seeing patients for the day? Who was this man?

‘I’d better let you go,’ said Isabelle. ‘Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?’ She pointed to the closed door. ‘Help you with something?’

‘No, go. I’m fine.’

‘But Alison worked until five. I feel bad about not being able to work later than school hours.’

‘It’s not a problem.’ He’d managed to edge her closer to the front door and she had the strangest sensation he was trying to get rid of her.

She bit her lip, debating whether to say something. In the end, she chose not to.

‘I tell you what, how about we swap phone numbers,’ Hugo suggested. ‘Give me your number, and if I need you, I’ll call you.’

She scribbled her number on a post-it note and handed it to him.

‘See you tomorrow,’ he said, as he closed and locked the door behind her.

Isabelle left the clinic and headed home. Other than minor misgivings about Hugo’s mannerisms and strange behaviour with his final patient, it had been a terrific first day.

Matt waited until he knew Isabelle would be home from work before he headed over to her house. He couldn’t get her out of his mind and had waited impatiently all day, wondering how her day went.

He strode up the path to the front door. The flyscreen door was unlocked. Matt smiled. She must be feeling more comfortable if she wasn’t locking her doors all the time. He knocked, but no one replied. Perhaps she was in the shower again. Inside he could hear music and banging, so evidently someone was home.

‘Issie?’ He yelled loudly as he opened the screen door and stepped inside. There was no reply. ‘Fletcher?’

He walked down the hallway past the empty bathroom to the kitchen. Fletcher sat at the table doing homework, earbuds in, oblivious to Matt’s arrival. He looked up, startled, when Matt came into his line of sight, and pulled out the earbuds. Matt noticed the two kittens snuggled on Fletcher’s lap like a feline yin and yang. He’d made the right decision giving the kids pets. He was glad Isabelle appreciated his gesture and had let them stay.

‘Hey, Matt. What are you doing here?’

‘Thought I’d drop in and see how your mum went at work today.’ Matt reached down and patted the kittens. They stretched out their paws and the volume of their purr increased tenfold. ‘What’s news, anyway? How was school?’

Fletcher shrugged and his face clouded over. ‘Yeah, nah, not so good today. Mum’s ticked off with me.’

‘Why?’ Matt’s brows furrowed.

‘My phone got stolen. Mum reckons I lost it, but I didn’t. It got flogged out of my bag at lunchtime.’

Matt’s frown deepened. He would have to follow it up with Rachel. At least it meant Fletcher wasn’t the one doing the stealing at school.

‘Did you tell Mrs King?’

‘Yeah, but she said she couldn’t make everyone empty out their bags. Something about privacy.’

Matt groaned. Bureaucracy gone mad once again. He would have to speak to Rachel. ‘Where’s your mum, then?’

Fletcher shrugged. ‘I dunno. In her room I think.’

As he spoke, there was a massive thud, then Mietta’s high-pitched voice cried out. Alarmed, Matt sprinted up the hallway. Opening Isabelle’s bedroom door, he laughed aloud at the sight in front of him.

Isabelle was on the floor, with Mietta sprawled on top of her. She’d pushed her bed to one side and an old timber ladder was set up in the centre of the room. The manhole in the ceiling was open.

‘What’s going on?’ Matt asked, surveying the mess.

Isabelle hurriedly scrambled to her feet, her face flushed. With pink spots burning on her cheeks, she reminded him of a teenager caught kissing. She started to giggle and Mietta joined in. Soon the two of them were laughing hysterically, unable to speak. Matt looked at Fletcher, who was now leaning in the doorway.

‘Don’t ask me.’ He shrugged. ‘They often do this.’

‘This?’ Matt asked.

‘Laugh like lunatics.’

‘Isabelle, Mietta, what on earth are you two laughing about?’

Finally, Isabelle gained a sense of control. ‘I fell off the ladder.’

Matt frowned. ‘You fell off a ladder and you’re
laughing
?’

She giggled. ‘It was funny at the time.’

‘Are you hurt?’ He looked across at Mietta. ‘Mietta, sweetheart, are
you
okay? Did your mummy land on you?’

Mietta’s eyes widened, her face serious. ‘I was holding the ladder. Mummy was safe with me.’

‘Then how did you fall?’ he asked, looking intensely at Isabelle.

‘I kind of got scared.’

‘Scared of what?’

‘I saw eyes,’ she mumbled, ‘and I don’t think mice have eyes that big.’

Matt tried hard to hide the grin that was threatening to form as he turned to Fletcher. ‘This sounds like a job for men. Want to help me?’

Fletcher’s shoulders pulled back. ‘Sure.’

‘First, let me go get a real ladder. Fletcher, can you take this old piece of junk outside? All it’s good for is firewood. I’ll be back soon.’

Matt left Mietta and Isabelle staring at him. He walked back to his car and headed home, grabbed his own ladder from the shed, and was back at Isabelle’s house in less than ten minutes. This time he didn’t knock, but let himself in. There was no sign of Isabelle or Mietta in her bedroom but he smelled something frying. His stomach grumbled.

‘It’s only me,’ he called out as he walked into the kitchen. ‘Mm, what are you cooking? It smells good.’

Isabelle looked up as he entered the room and her face lit up with pleasure. She obviously didn’t mind that he’d let himself back in without knocking. She’d changed her clothes, fixed her hair and done something to her lips. They were glossy, only making them look more kissable. He gripped the top of a kitchen chair to stop himself from making the two steps it would take to reach her side and pull her into his arms.

‘I figured since you were going to play the hero and find out what creatures are living in my roof, the least I could do is cook dinner.’

‘Yum,’ he groaned exaggeratedly. ‘I’m starving.’

She waved the wooden spoon at him. ‘Nothing to eat until you’ve removed whatever is up in my roof!’

‘Where’s Fletcher gone?’

‘Back to his room, I think.’

Matt knocked on Fletcher’s door. ‘Are you ready to see what’s got your mum so scared?’

Matt set up the ladder in Isabelle’s bedroom and climbed the steps until he was half inside the manhole. ‘Can you hand me the torch, please?’

Fletcher passed it up and he waved it around the roof space until he saw the problem. He chuckled to himself. He climbed back down the ladder and brushed cobwebs off his clothes.

‘What’s up there?’ Fletcher asked.

‘I’d reckon brush-tailed possums.’

‘For real?’ Fletcher looked impressed.

‘Go on up, check it out for yourself. There’s a nest in the corner.’

Fletcher began climbing up the ladder carefully. ‘I told Mum we had rats or something bigger than mice, but I didn’t expect possums. How did they get in?’

‘Easy,’ Matt replied. ‘There’s a massive gap in the tin roof. They’re coming straight in from the tree outside. You’ll see it when you get up there.’

Moments later Fletcher shouted from inside the roof space. ‘That’s cool! So how do we get rid of them?’

‘Unfortunately that’s not as easy,’ Matt explained as Fletcher climbed back down the ladder again. ‘Possums are territorial. Once you remove one, a new one will move straight back in. The other problem is, relocated possums don’t survive if you take them and put them in a new place. You need to re-house them nearby. Obviously well away from the roof cavity,’ he added.

‘Why can’t we take them into the bush and leave them there?’

‘Because it’s illegal,’ Matt replied.

‘Oh.’

‘First thing we need to do is get a trap for them to go into.’

‘Them?’ Fletcher asked.

Matt grinned. ‘I reckon it’s a safe bet there’s more than one in the roof. That would explain all the noise they’re making.’

‘Yeah, you should hear them running around at night.’ Fletcher laughed. ‘Mum reckons she hasn’t slept properly since we moved in. But then again, Mum hasn’t slept well for months.’

At least that explained the dark circles under her eyes and the weight loss. Matt made a snap decision. After dinner, he’d try to talk to Isabelle about Dan, before his feelings for her went any deeper.

‘Where do we get a trap?’ Fletcher asked, interrupting his thoughts.

‘Well, we could make one, but I happen to know that Joe at the pub had a problem with possums not long ago. How about we go and see if he’s still got some traps or something?’

*

‘All done,’ Matt said an hour later as he climbed down the ladder, covered in dust and cobwebs. ‘Mission accomplished.’

‘I won’t agree until I can sleep through the night without listening to them running around,’ Isabelle said. ‘Oh look at you! You’re still covered in cobwebs.’ She laughed. ‘Here.’

She reached up and ran her fingers through his beard, tugging at the strands. Matt’s heart practically stopped. Again, it took all his self-control not to grab her arms and pull her towards him. He groaned inwardly before moving away.

‘I wish you’d said something sooner, Issie. I could have fixed this when you moved in. I’m sorry you haven’t been able to sleep.’

‘I thought it was mice. Hopefully it’s all fixed now.’

‘It might take a few nights before they’re lured into the traps. I’ll come over during the week and keep an eye on them.’

‘Thanks, I’d appreciate that. There’s no way I want to go back up there and see those hideous beady yellow eyes again.’

‘Aw, come on, possums are cute.’

‘You might think they look cute, but they make a terrible racket at night. What were they doing up there?’

Matt grinned. ‘You don’t want to know.’

Her mouth formed a cute O.

He laughed. ‘Anyway, I probably should go. I’m filthy.’

‘No, stay. I promised you dinner. And you never told me why you came over anyway.’

‘Okay, thanks. I’d love to stay. Give me a minute to wash up.’

Matt walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, and Isabelle placed a plate of food in front of him. ‘

‘So, I came over to see how your first day went at the clinic,’ he said.

‘Oh, that’s sweet of you, thank you. It was great. I enjoyed it.’

‘Are you ready to do it all again tomorrow?’

‘Yep, especially if I get some sleep tonight.’

‘Don’t get your hopes up. They might take a while to leave.’

They sat around the kitchen table eating and laughing at the kittens’ antics as they chased one another around the room. Isabelle kept checking her watch, and once the kids had eaten she hurried them through the usual bedtime routine while Matt cleaned up the mess in her bedroom. He looked longingly at her bed and only just managed to stop himself from picturing her lying asleep beneath the crisp white linen. He needed to do something to make his mind travel in a different direction. So far, Isabelle hadn’t given any indication she was interested in him other than as a friend.

Plus, there was still the unspoken issue of Dan.

As Matt finished straightening the bed, he caught sight of the photo on the bedside table and his heart hammered. If Isabelle still kept Dan’s photo beside her bed, surely that meant only one thing. Her heart still belonged to her husband.