Like letting your dick fall into the barmaid at the pub, she’d thought snidely as she’d watched her dinner spin slowly around.
She was pleased that the thought hadn’t lingered, or particularly upset her – she was finally beginning to feel detached.
‘A fine jam,’ Des Oliphant declared, nodding thoughtfully. ‘As close to your gran’s as I think I’ve ever tasted. She’d be proud.’
‘Thanks Dad. Cuppa?’
‘Yes thanks.’
‘Not too thick, not too thin – and just the right balance of sweetness and tartness,’ Des continued. ‘Yum,’ he said, licking each of his fingers in turn.
Emily beamed. ‘Let’s hope Barbara’s turns out just as well, though her apricots are a little riper and squishier.’
‘Have you heard from her? How’s her mum doing?’
‘Yes, she rang while I was over seeing David. Everything is okay, though she did say she’s feeling about as useful as a hip pocket on a sock. Apparently her mother won’t even let her cook dinner.’
‘Sounds like she’s not the only one around here with a strong mother.’ He winked at her.
They sipped at their tea.
‘Trevor and Donald Baker dropped by just after you left yesterday – said they saw you on the way out.’
‘Yes. We didn’t speak for long. Came to have a nosy about, did they?’
‘Yep. They seemed quite impressed with what we’ve done. I hope they don’t suddenly decide they want to live here now it’s starting to look loved again.’
‘Don’t worry, they’re true to their word, those two. Straight down the line. They’d be genuinely pleased to see it looking nice again.’
They lapsed into silence. And then Trevor’s mention of John and money came back to Emily. ‘Dad, have you heard anything about John?’
‘Like what, the barmaid? Sorry, Em, but the whole district knows – about everything, I’d say: the truth and what they’ve made up.’
Emily blushed slightly. ‘Yes, but not that, Dad. About him splashing money around – not that I guess it’s any of my business now we’ve done the settlement.’
‘Why, what have you heard?’
‘Oh, nothing really,’ she said, removing a hand from her mug and waving it. ‘Just something Trevor said in passing.’
‘Like what?’
Emily spent a few moments racking her memory for the exact words. ‘Something like, “Good to see you’ve got more financial sense than that husband of yours”.’ She looked at her father, who was concentrating intently on the blue stripe running around his mug. ‘Dad?’
He was silent a few more moments, obviously arranging his thoughts and words carefully. The longer he took, the more concerned Emily became.
Des Oliphant let out a deep sigh. ‘You’ll find out sooner or later. May as well be sooner, I suppose.’
Emily held her breath.
‘Apparently he signed up for one of the tractors at White’s on Monday – around two hundred grand’s worth.’
‘Shit! Where’d he get that sort of money?’ Emily had the sick, sinking feeling that she’d not just been diddled a few thousand; she’d been well and truly screwed. No wonder John had pushed her to sign so quickly.
‘Apparently they dissolved the family company.’
Emily’s face began burning and gradually turned crimson. She hadn’t even considered his stake in the company when she’d looked at the figures. ‘I had no idea he was part of Gerald and Thora’s operation. Jesus, he got off lightly with me, didn’t he?’
‘Em, remember, what goes around comes around. You’re better off without him if he’s this deceitful. No matter what it cost you, I’d say it’s probably worth it to be rid of him.’
‘But how could he do this to me? It’s not fair!’ The rational part of Emily’s brain told her that money wasn’t everything. But her heart burned with the clear realisation that the man she’d loved – the man she once vowed to be with forever – no longer had any feeling for her. Perhaps he never had.
‘Thank your lucky stars you don’t have kids to tie you to him. I’m just so sorry I didn’t see him for what he was.’
But how could he have? John had been so romantic in the beginning. He’d proposed so beautifully, and for a short while he’d been everything she needed – emotionally, financially and physically. Emily sighed. She’d held up her end of the marriage bargain. Not always willingly, no, but she had done her wifely duties – all of them. And what had he given her in return? Forty thousand dollars.
‘You’re right, probably a lucky escape,’ she said, trying to sound upbeat while fighting the big lump forming in her throat. Why did I sign that damn paperwork?
‘You know you’ll be all right, don’t you, Em? You’re young – you’ll meet someone down the track who will treat you right.’ He got up with his mug in one hand. With his other he gave her shoulder a tight squeeze as he crossed to the sink. ‘Come on, you make the next batch of jam while I paint your bedroom.’
‘The next lot can wait until tomorrow. I’ll just wash all this and give you a hand. Give me ten minutes,’ Emily said, also getting up.
Emily stacked the jars in the eskies, placing breadboards between the layers for support. The eskies were the only place she could think of where mice couldn’t get in and chew their way through the cellophane seals, and she didn’t need them for her food now that she had a fridge.
Not that she’d seen any mice since she and Barbara had stopped up the gaps they’d found. And Grace hadn’t been sniffing around after anything in particular. Still, you can’t be too careful, she told herself as she put the lid on the second esky. She wondered how long David would be content to be without his eskies. Sooner or later she’d have to learn to trust the house and the cupboards in it. But not today.
‘Right, what can I do?’ she asked from the doorway, staring up at her father, who was on the ladder painting the ceiling.
He paused and looked down at her. ‘I brought a dustless sander. You could start giving the floor in one of the other rooms a light going over if you want. And I’ve got some tung oil for them after that.’
‘Hey Dad? You don’t think we’re going overboard here, do you?’
‘Not at all. It wouldn’t seem right to leave the floors untouched with the floors and ceilings freshly painted. I honestly do think it’ll be worth the effort.’
‘Right, where is it?’
‘In the blue box in the hall – there’s an extension cord in there too. Just remember to empty the dust catcher fairly often – it’s not very big. Start wherever you like; it’ll all have to be done eventually.’
Emily went into the first empty room and plugged in the sander. It was so nice to look around and see no mess, no clutter – a bare, blank canvas stretched out before her.
She started in the far right-hand corner, as it would be the least visible if she stuffed up a bit before getting the machine figured out.
But she needn’t have worried. Soon she had a good rhythm going, kneeling on a folded towel with the sander out in front, working the length of her reach before shuffling across to her left. She enjoyed having her mind fully occupied with the vibrating machine, leaving a smooth, even finish behind her, and keeping an eye on the level of dust in the catcher. It would take ages to do the entire house, but at least the machine was easy to handle.
One bit at a time, she told herself every time thoughts of the size of the room and then the whole house threatened to overwhelm her. One bit at a time.
Chapter Thirty-six
‘Hello, anyone here?’ Barbara’s voice sang from the front door.
Emily leapt up and bolted down the hall to greet her friend. They embraced in the hallway. ‘I’d swear you’ve been gone months,’ Emily said, not caring how she sounded.
‘Tell me about it. It’s only been a week, but boy is that a long time when you’re sharing a house with someone who drives you mad.’
‘So how is your mum? All better?’
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‘Fit as a fiddle. I don’t know why I went! She had a constant stream of bowls ladies and little old men from the senior citizens’ club dropping in and taking care of her every want. Honestly, there was no need for me at all, except of course to be seen doing one’s daughterly duty.’ She tapped her nose knowingly. ‘But wow, haven’t you been busy? These floorboards look amazing,’ Barbara added, squatting to stroke the gleaming timber that had come up a deep earthy red colour.
‘Yeah, but being so dark, the amount of dirt they show is ridiculous. I’m running the vacuum over the hall every day. Thank goodness the kitchen has lino.’
‘Well, I think they look great. ‘And it smells beautiful in here. What is that?’
‘Tung oil. You can thank my dad for that. Cuppa?’ Emily asked.
‘Great, thanks, but only after a stickybeak through the house. Lead the way!’
Emily showed Barbara through each of the rooms, pointing out where she and Des had patched the walls and sanded and polished the floors. After five minutes of Barbara oohing and ahhing, they finally arrived in the kitchen.
‘I can’t believe the transformation in just a few days.’
‘Well, it’s still pretty sparse, but it’s clean and fresh and comfortable. And heaps better than it was.’
‘God, I wonder what the Baker brothers will think now it’s looking so good. Have they seen it yet?’
‘Not since Dad and I totally finished. They came over the other day though, and they did seem genuinely happy it’s being given some TLC. Oh, Barbara, I’ve become so attached to the place,’ Emily said with a sigh. ‘I have to keep reminding myself it’s just a rental.’
‘Well, we never know what the future holds. Who knows? One day this could all be yours,’ Barbara replied, extending her arms with a lavish flourish. ‘It could be a thriving B&B with a world-renowned restaurant, with homemade jams and preserves for sale. Speaking of which, thanks so much for the jam. You really could have kept it all for yourself since you did the work.’
‘Then I’d have to eat it for every meal for the next twelve months, and as nice as it is …’
‘You should sell it. It’s some of the best apricot jam I’ve ever tasted – beats mine hands down. Even David says so, and he fancies himself as something of a connoisseur!’
‘You’re way too kind, both of you.’
‘Seriously, at least put some in the op shop for sale.’
‘Someone’s already got a stack in there. I noticed the other day on my way past.’
‘Ah, so you’ve ventured back into the lion’s den, then?’
‘Had to, didn’t I? I ran out of bread to put under my jam,’ Emily said with a laugh.
‘How was it?’
‘Er … awkward is probably the best word for it. But I didn’t hang around – got my groceries and left. Dad’s been doing all the trips into Mitre 10, thank goodness. I suppose David’s told you the latest about John?’
‘I’ve hardly seen him – he had another Bureau meeting last night and left early for a ram sale this morning. What’s the latest?’
‘Apparently he’s just about to put a deposit on a two-hundred-grand tractor.’
‘Jesus, where’d he get that sort of money?’
‘Rumour is, he’s being bought out of the family company.’
‘I’m sure David didn’t know he was part of a company; he would have mentioned it when we were discussing your settlement.’
‘Yeah, well, looks like I was royally screwed, not just diddled.’
‘Maybe you can sue him for non-disclosure or something.’
‘No. It was my mistake. I should have listened when you told me to get advice. I should have, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. It doesn’t mean I’m not bloody pissed off about it, though. Just think, for a hundred grand I could have nearly bought a house in town outright.’
‘Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I turned out to be right.’
‘Me too,’ Emily said ruefully. ‘Live and learn.’
‘Well, maybe you’re meant to be out here closer to me,’ Barbara said. ‘Now, I can’t stay long,’ she continued. ‘I’ve got mountains of washing to do and a house that looks like a bachelor pad to sort out. But I just wanted to know if you’d like to come over for dinner tomorrow night. Nothing fancy – I’m just going to throw a roast in the oven.’
‘I’d love to, but I want to have you guys over here now it’s looking half-decent. Can you come here instead and be my first guests?’
‘Are sure you want the hassle?’
‘God, Barbara. After all you guys have done for me, it’s the least I can do. It would be my pleasure.’
‘Well, I’m certainly not going to argue!’ Barbara said, getting up. They made their way back down the hall to the open front door.
‘It’s so good to have you back,’ Emily said as she hugged her friend goodbye.
‘It’s good to be back. See you tomorrow night. See you Gracie,’ Barbara added, bending to ruffle the ears of the dog sitting beside her mistress on the verandah.
Emily went back to the kitchen feeling buoyed with the prospect of plans to work towards. Since she and her father had finished working on the house, she’d been feeling a bit lost and bored.
With another cup of tea in front of her, she idly flicked through her cookbooks for inspiration. She wanted to do something a little more special than the average lamb roast. She’d missed the excitement of planning a meal and cooking for guests, and she vowed to do more entertaining now she was settled. Maybe she could even do Christmas.
But who could she invite? All her and John’s friends had clearly sided with him – she hadn’t heard from a single one since the separation. And she’d been too scared to make contact lest she experience further rejection.
Oh well, she’d start by having David and Barbara around, and then her parents – to thank her dad for all his help. And to prove to Enid that the house was indeed fit for habitation. Definitely.
Emily sighed. Why did she keep seeking her mother’s approval when she knew none would be forthcoming? She smiled wryly and shook her head. Freud was sure to have an answer to that.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Emily stood spooning coffee into three mugs. She was beaming. The night had gone perfectly. She silently congratulated herself for keeping things simple.
She’d chosen slow-cooked Greek lamb; if you kept the oven low it really couldn’t be overcooked. Having it fall from the bone was much better than trying to keep it restaurant-pink. And it had turned out perfectly – melt-in-the-mouth meat with strong but not overwhelming flavours of garlic, lemon and oregano.
The trifle had been a hit for dessert and they’d demolished almost half of the huge bowlful, despite making great inroads with the shoulder of lamb before it.
After delivering the mugs, she sat back down at the table with a sense of satisfaction and calm, the likes of which she hadn’t felt for months. Maybe everything really would be okay after all.
‘Well, that was absolutely the best meal!’ Barbara declared.
‘Yep,’ David said heartily. ‘I hope John knows what he’s given up.’
‘Thanks guys,’ Emily said, grinning and blushing slightly.
‘Sorry to hear about the settlement – for what it’s worth, I didn’t know he had anything to do with Gerald and Thora’s operations. That must be one of the only secrets this town has ever kept.’
‘Oh well, money isn’t everything,’ Emily said, trying to sound upbeat, but failing.
‘No, but integrity is,’ Barbara said. ‘Don’t worry. Somehow, some time, somewhere, he’ll get his comeuppance.’
‘It wouldn’t worry me so much if I could find a bloody job. A hundred grand would have been very handy right about now.’
‘You should sell some of your jam,’ David said. ‘It’s incredible.’
‘Thanks, and no offence, but who’d buy it? Everyone around here makes jam.’
‘Have you thought about
speaking to a financial counsellor? They might have some suggestions. Not about the jam, obviously,’ Barbara added with a laugh.
‘I know what you meant,’ Emily said, rolling her eyes at her friend. ‘But how would investment advice help when not having any money is the problem?’
‘No, you’re thinking of a financial planner,’ David said. ‘Financial counsellors are supposed to help people suffering financial difficulty. They’re government-funded, so it wouldn’t cost you a cent. Seriously, it might be worth seeing if they can help.’
‘Ah, you’re talking about that Cameron guy who used to be in the State Bank. No way. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him,’ Emily said.
‘No, he’s been sent down to Lincoln – there’s a new one. Another bloke, Ben somebody-or-other, started a few weeks ago. Word is, he’s nice enough and seems to know a thing or two,’ David said. ‘Apparently he was raised on a farm over in the east. He took over when he was eighteen, after his father died. Then apparently he headed off to the big smoke and got a couple of degrees or diplomas or something.’
‘I wonder why he’s not still running his own farm, then,’ Emily said.
‘Saw the light, probably,’ David said. ‘Realised he could make more from the sidelines than being a mug farmer?’
‘Listen to Mr Cynical over here. Must be time to get him home before he depresses us all and ruins such a lovely evening,’ Barbara said lightly.
‘Sorry, I’m a bit tired. And I was at Jones’s ram sale yesterday – the average price was well over two grand. Couldn’t afford to buy any and I wanted three. How the bloody hell can ram prices be going up when lamb and wool prices are still dropping?’
Saving Grace Page 21
