Career Girl in the Country. Fiona Lowe

temper’.

      The outburst—so very different from Lisa’s quiet approach—made him feel less guilty about getting hard, and yet it was so full of energy and life that it swirled around him, both pulling him in and pushing him away. After months of not feeling anything this maelstrom of emotions confused and scared him, and when he spoke, the words shot out harsh and loud. ‘No instruments to throw?’

      She didn’t even raise a killing look. ‘I have never thrown anything in Theatre, although I did train with a master thrower and once had to dodge a chair.’ She plonked herself down hard on the couch, threw her head back and closed her eyes. ‘This is a nightmare.’

      Grey shadows hovered under her eyes and she looked exhausted.

      ‘Actually, it’s probably not a good idea to sit on that.’ He pointed to the gnawed hole.

      He’d expected her to fly off the couch but she merely shuddered and stayed put. Eventually she opened one eye and stared accusingly at him. ‘You could have told me that the Australian billfish competition is on!’

      Was it? Had that many months passed? ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise it was that time of year.’ Once he’d had his finger on the pulse of his hometown and been part of the committee for one of the biggest events on the calendar, but not any more. Now days just rolled together into one long and empty period of time.

      She frowned at him as if she didn’t quite believe him. ‘Every motel between here and a hundred k up and down the coast is fully booked out with anglers hoping to catch a two-hundred-and-twenty-kilo marlin. God, I hate this dust-impregnated town.’ She picked up her phone and stared at it as if willing it to ring with news of a bed.

      A mouse scuttled between his feet.

       She can’t stay here.

       She’s not staying with me.

       Why not? You don’t care about much any more so why care if she stays a few nights?

      She sighed. ‘I don’t suppose you know if my office at the hospital has a couch?’

      Her tone was unexpectedly flat, as if all the fight had gone out of her, and a tiny crack appeared in the blackness of his soul. His mouth started to work before his brain had fully thought it through. ‘You can stay at my place until this joint is clean and mouse-free.’

      Her smooth brow creased in uncertainty. ‘That’s kind of you but don’t you think you should discuss it with your wife first?’

      Your wife. He felt the darkness sucking at his heart and soul, threatening to drown him over again the way it had so many times in the last year and a half. His heart thumped faster, pumping pain with every beat, but he somehow managed to growl out, ‘No need. Come on, grab your stuff. It’s late.’

      He turned and strode out of the house, not waiting for her, not offering to carry her case, and not looking back because if he did he might just change his mind. Not even Poppy deserved that.

      Poppy lugged her unopened and mouse-free case the short distance to what she assumed was Matt’s house—lights on, front door open—and wondered what on earth this man’s deal was. He lurched from sarcastic to ironic, friendly to downright rude and a thousand emotions in between. Why offer her a bed if he clearly wasn’t happy about her staying? She assumed he’d gone on ahead to let his wife know they had an unexpected guest. She thought of her gorgeous apartment in south Perth with a view of the river and silently cursed William and the hospital board.

      She stepped into the empty foyer of a house considerably larger than her hospital residence, and unlike the minimalist furnishing of rental accommodation she could see the hand of a woman in the decor. Silence hovered and given it was close to midnight she didn’t want to call out and wake anyone. For all she knew, there could be children asleep.

      A closed door on her left was probably a bedroom so she left her case by the front door and padded down the well-lit hall, which opened into a formal lounge-dining area. Despite its stylish couches and polished wood table, it had an air of ‘display only’, lacking the personal touches like ornaments or photos that created living spaces. She kept walking and passed through a doorway into another huge space, which wasn’t well-lit but she made out a kitchen and assumed beyond was a family room and bedrooms.

      She spoke softly. ‘Matt?’

      He appeared through a door off the kitchen, his arms full of bed linen and his face set in unforgiving lines. ‘Your room’s this way.’

      She expected him to turn towards the yet unexplored part of the house but instead he headed back from where she’d come from and entered the bedroom at the front of the house. A stripped white-wood queen-size bed dominated the room, which had a feature wall wallpapered in alternating cool blue and white stripes. Matching white-wood bedside tables held reading lamps with gold stands and white shades, although Poppy noticed the plugs had been pulled from the sockets. No books or boxes of tissues adorned any surfaces but gauzy curtains hung softly in front of a white blind, which was pulled down. The room should have said, ‘restful haven for adults’ but instead it looked abandoned.

      Matt threw out the bottom sheet and Poppy moved to grab her side. She was almost certain this room had been designed to be the master bedroom. ‘Are you sure this is OK?’

      Matt deftly made a hospital corner with the top sheet and didn’t meet her gaze. ‘The en suite and walk-in wardrobe is through there.’ He waved towards a doorway. ‘The hot water’s solar and it’s really hot but it takes a minute or so to come through. Catch the water in the bucket unless you like to wake up to a cold shower.’ He shoved a pillow so hard into the pillowcase it bunched up and he had to thump the feathers back into place before throwing it on the bed.

      He strode to the door, his hand gripping the handle and his gaze fixed firmly on the cornice where two walls met. ‘We leave at 7:30 a.m. and you’ll find something for breakfast in the kitchen. Good night.’

      The door closed firmly behind him, the click loudly stating, ‘this is your space so stay here.’ Poppy fell back onto the bed, her relief at being out of the infested house short-lived, and she wondered if she’d have been safer sharing with the mice.

      Perhaps it had been sheer exhaustion but, despite Poppy’s misgivings, she’d slept soundly. Now, as she dressed, she could feel the temperature climbing despite the early hour and her suit, which she donned automatically, felt hot. Still, if she had her way she’d be in scrubs soon enough. She opened her door, expecting to hear a household in full Monday morning action mode—radio or television news blaring, the drone of a kettle as it neared boiling and the ping of the toaster—but although she could hear the harsh squawk of cockatoos outside, she couldn’t hear anything much inside. She made her way to the kitchen, which was empty, but with morning light streaming in she saw that, unlike the front part of the house, which held an unlived-in air, the kitchen showed more than the occasional sign of occupation.

      Newspapers were piled so high on one end of the long granite bench that they’d started to slide onto the floor. Used cups and glasses sat abandoned close to, but not in, the dishwasher. A supermarket bag filled with tins took up more space rather than being stored in the adjacent pantry and every other surface was covered in clutter from half-opened mail to nails and paperclips.

      A casual eating area off to the left had a table and chairs but instead of the polished jarrah having placemats it held a laptop and was covered in screeds of paper. She glanced into the family room and saw a similar chaotic mess that jarred with the decor, which had obviously been undertaken with care and a great eye for detail. Poppy wasn’t a domestic queen by any stretch of the imagination but even she managed better than this. She was amazed the Albrights didn’t have mice!

      She filled the kettle and while she waited for it to boil for her heart-starter morning cup of coffee, she emptied the dishwasher, guessing where items went, and then reloaded it with the dirty cups and glasses. She located the coffee and then opened the fridge. Milk, a loaf of bread, three apples and a tub of yoghurt hardly made a dent in the cavernous