Broken by Ilsa Evans

were more or less complete, Mattie left them on the table and started carrying the folded cardboard boxes from the laundry to the garbage bins. There, she systematically tore them into smaller pieces to fit inside the large blue-lidded recycling bin.
    The weather was as pleasant as it had been that morning, and Mattie was just considering tidying her small garden when she noticed an older woman walking slowly down the main concrete driveway towards the bank of letterboxes out by the road. Mattie stood by the garbage bins and watched the woman approach, and then impetuously decided to add to her list of steadily growing accomplishments by introducing herself to her first neighbour. She ran her fingers through her hair and then walked nonchalantly across towards the letterboxes.
    The woman, who was unlocking a metal flap at the rear of number two, turned as Mattie approached and watched her curiously. She was dressed casually, in a pair of black pants and a grey and black checked windcheater jacket that was buttoned up all the way to her neck. She was also older than Mattie had first thought, with a deeply lined face and light grey hair that curled softly over her head.
    â€˜Hello,’ said Mattie, with a welcoming smile as she made a show of checking her own letterbox, which she already knew was empty.
    The woman glanced down at the brass number adorning Mattie’s letterbox and then back. ‘Ah. You must be the new one,’ she said, in a rather strong accent that Mattie guessed was German. ‘Just moved into unit one, have you?’
    â€˜That’s right. My name’s Mattie.’
    â€˜Hilda.’ She smiled at last, her multitude of facial lines deepening. She turned and gestured towards the unit that backed onto Mattie’s. ‘From just behind you.’
    â€˜Nice to meet you,’ said Mattie.
    Hilda’s black-button eyes flicked over Mattie and settled back on her face, all in an instant. She nodded, as if in approval. ‘You have nice little children. I spoke to them yesterday when they were out in your yard. Very nice. Polite.’
    â€˜Would you like a cup of coffee?’ asked Mattie impulsively, astonishing even herself.
    â€˜A coffee?’ Hilda pulled up a grey and black sleeve to reveal a surprisingly feminine gold watch. She studied it.
    â€˜Do you have to be somewhere?’
    â€˜No, no. Just that I don’t have coffee after two. Bladder’s not what it used to be.’
    â€˜Really?’ Mattie paused, unsure of what to reply to this revelation.
    â€˜But it’s close enough.’ Hilda smiled again. ‘Coffee would be most welcome, thank you. I’ll just leave my mail at home. Give me five minutes.’
    Mattie hurried back inside to put the kettle on, stunned that she’d even issued the invitation. It was very unlike her, and she was already doubting its wisdom. For all she knew, Hilda was a lonely old gossip who would now drop in unannounced at all hours. Or when Jakewas there. Opening up her horizons was one thing, but opening up her door was another. Nevertheless, it was done. So she moved all the party-plan paperwork off the table and placed it on top of the fridge, out of sight, before putting out her crystal creamer and sugar bowl together with some shortbread biscuits on a plate. Hilda knocked on the door just as Mattie was pushing the plunger down on the brew, so she called for her to come in.
    â€˜Mirror image,’ said Hilda from the lounge-room. She walked through into the kitchen, looking around with interest. ‘You are exact the opposite from me. Everything. How strange.’
    â€˜Really?’ said Mattie politely. She noted, with some amusement, that Hilda had obviously run a brush through her hair, which now curled up and away from her forehead in neat grey waves. Mattie poured coffee into two mugs and brought them over to the table, nodding at the sugar bowl and creamer as she put the mugs down and pulled a