Page 75 of Original Sin

He shook his head. ‘Nah.’

‘Have you dated since Katie?’ Brooke asked after a pause.

‘A couple of dates,’ he shrugged. ‘It didn’t feel right.’

‘You still miss her,’ said Brooke quietly.

‘You know, almost every day I have to tell someone that their loved ones didn’t make it. You give them coffee, you touch their arm, you direct them to a quiet room. Some of them scream and collapse, of course, but most of the time they are brave and solid. Before Katie died, that’s how I thought you were supposed to behave, but now I wonder how they do it. How they can be so strong when every part of you feels crushed and helpless and keeps on feeling like that to the point where you wonder if it will ever feel better.’

‘It will get better,’ said Brooke simply, touching his arm.

‘I know,’ he shrugged. ‘In fact I’ve applied to do a year on a voluntary scheme in Africa in the New Year. They’re desperate for doctors out there. And I think it will be good for me. Stop me drinking too much and moping around.’

She was beginning to understand him. He blamed himself for not saving Katie and now he wanted to get away. Brooke knew she could not persuade him otherwise; sometimes people needed to do these things to work them through.

‘I’m impressed.’

‘Didn’t have me down as a do–gooder, huh?’ said Matt with a wry grin. ‘It was that or bum around the world for six months, and I thought I might get even more depressed, surrounded by backpackers ten years younger than me.’

‘Maybe a hippy chick would do you good, Matt.’

He was quiet for a moment, concentrating on the road.

‘If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?’ he asked.

‘David and I have been talking about that. You know, planning the honeymoon and so on. The problem is that David’s been everywhere. I have this romantic ideal that we will discover new places together.’ She crunched up her nose thinking of David’s latest suggestion: the Galapagos Islands. Admittedly, it would be a new passport stamp for both of them, but from what Brooke had seen on the Internet, it looked a bit cold, and nothing against the wildlife, just not very romantic.

‘Well here’s mine,’ said Matt, matter–of–factly. ‘An Australian odyssey. Around the Northern Territory where they have freshwater crocs three metres long, then into the red country, Uluru, Alice Springs, and the opal mines, and over to the Whitsunday Islands for snorkelling and sailing. Maybe with that hippy chick you mentioned.’

‘That sounds a wonderful trip,’ said Brooke dreamily. ‘Can I steal it? Apart from the hippy chick, of course.’

When they stopped in town for gas, Brooke spotted a shop advertising ‘Genuine Amish Clothes’.

Pointing to one of the plain dresses in the window, he joked: ‘What about that for your Costume Gala next week?’

Inside, the shop was a classic tourist trap, with racks selling black trousers and bonnets next to Amish fridge magnets. Towards the back of the shop, almost hidden away, was a display of wooden furniture. Brooke reached for a pair of beautifully carved book ends and stroked the smooth wood.

‘These are lovely, aren’t they?’

‘I’m going to buy them for you,’ said Matt, taking them from her.

Brooke pulled him back. ‘Please. I want to buy them myself.’

Matt looked at her, puzzled. ‘Why?’

Brooke paused before she spoke. ‘Shall I tell you difference between being rich and famous?’

‘I didn’t know there was one,’ said Matt, amused.

‘When I was just rich, I always felt as if I had to pick up the cheque because my friends knew I had money. But now I’m famous, I go to a bar and there’s always someone to buy me a drink, no matter how wealthy I am.’

Matt’s expression clouded, his voice nipped with anger. ‘So you think I want to buy you these book ends so I can tell all my friends?’

‘No. I didn’t mean that at all,’ said Brooke regretting her honesty.

‘So let me buy you the book ends.’

He took them and walked back up to the cashier. Brooke stared after him, wondering how she had made him so angry.