Saving Grace

by Fiona McCallum

‘Nothing wrong with being distracted by a nice man. Hey, why don’t we check out his company’s website.’

  ‘I don’t know what it’s called.’

  ‘His business card should be right here,’ Barbara said, starting to rifle through an almost overflowing document tray beside them. ‘Here it is,’ she said, extracting a matt laminated card in black, burgundy and white, with a logo that looked like initials entwined. ‘JKL and Associates dot com dot au,’ she said aloud as she typed.

  After a few moments they were greeted by a large version of the logo and a welcome message. According to the site, the company specialised in blending old and new architecture, using the best features of each era to create something truly special with modern-day comfort. A series of changing interior and exterior photographs occupied the right-hand side of the page.

  ‘Wow, isn’t that lovely,’ Emily said, pointing to an exterior image.

  ‘Hmm,’ Barbara said and clicked on it. ‘Do we want to watch the video?’

  ‘Yeah, why not?’

  They were taken on a 360-degree tour of the outside and then inside of the building while the narrator – whose voice was instantly recognisable as Jake’s – discussed the project’s brief and pointed out particular features.

  When the camera was back on the view of where they had started, it zoomed in on a brass plaque with the name SOMERSET MEWS engraved in large capital letters.

  ‘I thought it looked familiar – that’s one of the most famous new developments in Melbourne,’ Barbara said in awe. ‘It was on the news a few weeks ago. I think it’s up for an international award.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Emily. ‘I got the impression Jake was doing okay, but bloody hell! That he’s so humble makes me like him even more,’ she added, sounding almost wistful. But what she was really feeling was overawed and disappointed. How could someone that talented, that successful, ever be interested in her? A meek, plain, country girl with a failed marriage and no immediate prospects.

  It was easier to think of Jake as just some nice guy who lived in Melbourne and was friends with her cousin. Of course he was rich and successful – Elizabeth didn’t bother with people who weren’t. How could she not have seen past the plain R.M. Williams dress boots, jeans and well-worn polo tops?

  ‘Let’s check out his associates,’ Barbara said, clicking the mouse again. Three head-and-shoulder shots appeared – one woman and two men – all of whom looked to be in their mid-thirties to early-forties.

  At seeing the name Simone Lonigan underneath the woman, Emily’s heart sank right down to the wooden chair beneath her. So he has a wife.

  Perhaps he’d come away with Elizabeth because he was going through some personal stuff, needed the space. She wanted to despise the face smiling back at her, but the woman looked nice and warm and friendly. Her generous smile included her eyes.

  ‘She looks nice,’ Barbara said absently, as if reading Emily’s mind. ‘This must be his sister.’

  ‘Wife, more like.’

  ‘No, he’s not married. Definitely his sister – he adores her apparently; was telling David all about her. She runs the office.’ Barbara clicked on the photo and a small bio appeared beside it. ‘See, it says Office Manager.’

  ‘Are you sure she’s not his wife?’

  ‘Positive. Why are you so worried, anyway? I thought you were convinced he’s gay,’ Barbara said with arched eyebrows.

  ‘Well, you keep telling me he’s not.’

  ‘Anyway, no romantic thoughts, remember. Not until you get yourself back on an even keel.’

  ‘Totally. And I’m not worried, just curious.’

  ‘I suggest we stop now before we look up to find we’ve lost three hours,’ Barbara said.

  ‘Good idea. I can’t begin to imagine how much time I wasted surfing the net while John was at the pub,’ Emily added absently.

  ‘You know, that’s the first time you’ve mentioned his name all day.’

  ‘I know you must be totally sick of me moaning about how crap my life is.’

  ‘Emily, I meant it as a compliment – a sign of progress. Don’t be so defensive. It’s going to take time and I’m here for however long it takes,’ Barbara said, closing all the open windows on the computer and then turning it off.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Barbara said, giving Emily’s leg a firm pat. ‘Well, I’m hungry now, let’s eat,’ she said, getting up.

  ‘Gosh, it’s already six-thirty – see what happens when you go online.’

  As Emily’s headlights flashed across the windows of the house, she felt a mix of emotions swamp her. She turned the car off and sat thinking for a few moments until Grace, sitting beside her on the passenger seat, started whining with impatience to be let out.

  It was odd. On the one hand it was nice to be coming back to her own home and not have to cook or make polite conversation with anyone.

  Nonetheless, it would be nice knowing there was someone else to come home to. After such a busy day with Barbara, she’d love to be welcomed by a husband who poured her a glass of wine, ran the bath and then sat by her side while she soaked, discussing their respective days.

  Better yet, she thought, to have a man to share the deep bath with, the room flickering with candlelight, floating languidly in the warm water, then going to bed all relaxed together …

  Emily let out a deep sigh as she climbed the verandah steps. She hadn’t left a light on – wary of ending up with an unexpected power bill – so the place was in complete darkness.

  ‘Hello house,’ she said, less than enthusiastically, pushing the front door open and flicking the hall light switch.

  Having been shut up all day, the house was stuffy. The warm air hit her in the face as it escaped outside, adding to her low disposition. The heat would make it difficult to sleep.

  Emily went through the routine of opening up the house and feeding Grace, and then stood watching the dog tuck in heartily while thinking that if she didn’t have Grace relying on her she might have just crumpled into a heap she couldn’t get up from. The thought was depressing.

  She decided to make herself a cup of Milo, but as she stood waiting for the kettle to boil she found herself wondering about her life with John.

  Had it really been that bad? Had she really meant to leave him or just to teach him a lesson? Had she expected – wanted – him to come after her, beg her to come back, to prove he really did love her and that she was important? Could her mother be right? She shuddered at the frightening prospect.

  Emily recalled Enid’s stern words the one time she’d made the mistake of confiding in her, about a year into her marriage: ‘Emily, you’ve made your bed. You can’t just go throwing childish tantrums at the first sign of trouble. Men hate that sort of thing. To make a marriage work you need to cook and clean for them and give them, well, you know, it, when they want it. It’s really quite simple.’

  At the time Emily had been too shocked to react – mortified at her mother’s unusual frankness, and devastated by the very real prospect that life was indeed just a cruel joke. She’d hoped for a sympathetic ear when she’d voiced her disappointment and frustration at not being considered a partner in running the farm, and at John spending more and more time in the pub rather than at home with her.

  As long as she could remember, she’d dreamt about meeting a lovely man, falling in love, getting married and spending the rest of her life being devoted to her husband, and being adored and cherished in return. How could her own mother shatter the dream so spectacularly?

  But if it was as Enid had said – that all men needed was food, clean clothes, sex and a respectable place to live – then what did that say about Des? No, Des was nothing like John.

  The kettle gave a loud click to signal it had boiled, and something shifted in Emily’s brain. As she stood there staring at the steam rising from the spout, she realised she was actually no more lonely than she had been while married.

  Many nights John had
been at the pub until closing, and most days he’d been out in the paddock or off chinwagging with neighbours. When he was at home, he barely gave her the time of day except to enquire when lunch or dinner was to be served. She’d been little more than a servant, she realised with a jolt.

  I might be alone now, but at least I’m free.

  She spooned Milo into one of her new red-and-white mugs, and poured in half water and half milk. She took the mug to the table and sat down. Taking a long sip, she closed her eyes to concentrate on the warm chocolate-malt taste as it moved over her tongue. She felt herself relaxing.

  Half an hour later, after saying goodnight to Grace, Emily closed the kitchen doors, turned out the light and made her way down the hall to her bedroom. She turned on the fan beside her bed. With its high ceiling and large size, the room wasn’t nearly as hot and stuffy as she thought it would be.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Emily spent most of the next day making more jam and trying not to think about how the market in Melbourne was going and when – or if – Jake would call.

  She had just settled in for an early night with her book when her mobile began vibrating and then ringing on the chair beside her. She picked it up, excited at the prospect of it being Jake, but almost put it down again when she saw her parents’ names and home number on the display. Hoping it was Des, she took a deep breath and pressed the green button to answer the call.

  ‘Hello?’ she said, a little gingerly.

  ‘Oh, there you are!’ Enid cried. Emily’s back immediately stiffened.

  ‘Hi Mum. How are you?’ she asked, the words sounding more like a long, drawn-out groan.

  ‘Very well, thank you. You sound terrible. Don’t tell me that dreadful house is making you sick already.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. I’m just lying down. I was reading,’ she said, sitting up and forcing a lighter, cheerier tone into her voice. ‘There, is that better?’

  ‘Yes. Now I can’t talk for long. Calling mobiles costs a fortune, you know. I wish you’d get a landline.’

  ‘Maybe when I’m more settled,’ Emily said, while thinking that right there was a very good reason not to. ‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure of the call?’ she asked.

  ‘I’d like you to come for dinner tomorrow night. We’ve got the Lucases coming down. You remember them; he used to be in the bank here years ago.’

  ‘Yes, I remember.’ On the tip of her tongue was, ‘But why me?’

  ‘So are you able to make it?’

  Emily briefly toyed with making up some prior engagement – Barbara would back her up – but in the end she couldn’t be bothered. Enid would insist on all the minute details and Emily really just didn’t have the energy to lie. When it came to her mother, grinning and bearing it was generally the easiest option.

  ‘Sure. Okay. What can I bring?’

  ‘Emily, “Sure. Okay” is hardly a gracious response. “Yes, thank you” would be more appropriate. And there’s nothing you need to bring, thank you very much. Six for six-thirty. We look forward to seeing you then.’

  ‘Right, okay. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.’ Emily hung up feeling annoyed with her mother, but more annoyed with herself.

  I should have just said no.

  Emily leaned back into the pillows and wondered about the dinner invitation that had come out of the blue.

  Not so long ago her mother had paraded her around as someone who’d done well for herself. ‘You remember our daughter, Emily? Well, she’s now married to John Stratten. Yes, the Strattens – largest landholders, biggest wool producers in the district. Oh, yes, she’s very lucky to have found such a fine catch.’

  Not anymore. One thing was for certain: Emily was not going to be held up as a shining example of anything tomorrow night. She was surprised her mother didn’t prefer to pretend she didn’t exist at all.

  Perhaps it was some kind of intervention – she was going to be bundled up, returned to her husband, and both of them told that divorce was absolutely out of the question. Thus, Enid Oliphant could again be considered a good mother. Emily felt a small, slightly hysterical chuckle bubble in her throat. She swallowed it down, shook her head, and picked up the book lying face down on the bed beside her.

  She’d just got settled into the first paragraph when her phone signalled another call. ‘What now?’ she muttered. ‘Hello, Emily speaking.’

  ‘Hi Em, it’s Jake.’ Emily’s heart instantly started to flap and her face blushed.

  ‘Oh. Hi Jake, how are you?’

  ‘I’m really well, thank you. Great news! Your jam was an absolute hit at the markets! We could have sold ten times what we had.’

  ‘Wow, really?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sending you a cheque.’

  ‘Oh, that’s really not necessary,’ she said, her mother’s years of refusing to discuss money instantly coming to the fore. ‘Didn’t we agree that you would keep the profit?’

  ‘Let’s call it business.’

  ‘But you’re the one who went to all the trouble of selling it.’

  ‘And you’re the one who went to all the trouble of making it. So let’s agree to disagree. Anyway, my sister Simone did gorgeous labels, and she did all the work at the market. Once she tasted it, she insisted on making scones and serving samples of scones, jam and cream.’

  ‘Wow, that was very good of her.’ So Simone is your sister.

  ‘She’s always been a sweet thing. And always looking for a new cause to support – lucky for you your jam was it! And it really is the best apricot jam this side of the black stump.’

  ‘Well, what can I say? Thank you,’ Emily said, blushing even deeper.

  ‘You’re very welcome. So when can I have some more?’

  ‘How much do you want?’

  ‘As much as you can spare.’

  ‘I’ll have to figure out how to get it there safely. There’s a transport guy in town. I’ll speak to him about it tomorrow. When do you want it?’

  ‘If you could get it here this week, that’d be good – keep the momentum with the punters going.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘So how’s everything else going? You sounded a little down when you answered. Or were you actually lying down already?’

  Emily laughed. ‘Bit of both actually. I’d just hung up from my mother.’

  ‘And how is the lovely Enid this evening?’

  ‘As annoying and as frustrating as ever!’

  ‘Care to talk about it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Not really. Maybe.’

  ‘Hmm, not very decisive, Em,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Come on,’ he added, more seriously. ‘I’m all ears.’

  Emily took a slightly deeper breath. ‘Nothing much to tell, really. I’ve just been summoned to a dinner party. God only knows why. It used to be so she could hold me up as the trophy to her excellent motherhood because I’d married so well, but of course, that particular trophy is now tarnished well beyond what Silvo could deal with.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a set-up … with another guy or something.’

  ‘God, I bloody well hope not! Sorry, excuse the language.’

  ‘No need to apologise – sometimes no other word will do. Who else is going to be there?’

  ‘Just some long-lost friends – the term “friends” being used rather loosely. I’m sure Mum and Dad haven’t seen them for years, even though they still live around here.’

  ‘Do they happen to have a son around your age?’

  ‘Hmm, yes, but last I heard he was married or engaged or something.’

  ‘Well, there you go. It’s a set-up. Maybe he’s in a similar situation to yourself and they’re intent on saving you both from lives of desperate loneliness.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ Emily groaned.

  ‘Chin up. He might be fabulously rich and great in bed.’

  Emily tried to answer, but all that came out was a gasp. The heat of her blush flowed red-hot down her neck and onto her chest.
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  ‘On the other hand,’ Jake continued, ‘your mother might just be making sure you eat a decent meal once in a while.’

  ‘Well, in that case I wish she’d just send a care package,’ Emily said with a laugh.

  ‘It’s good to hear you laugh, Em. My work here is now done.’

  ‘I guess I haven’t laughed much lately. So thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure. And I really must go. I’ve a few work things to get done before tomorrow.’

  ‘Barbara and I checked out your website – it’s very impressive.’

  ‘Thank you. We’ve had some luck along the way.’

  ‘Maybe if I ever get to own this place you can help me turn it into something truly special.’

  ‘You’re on. Let me know how you get on with sending the jam.’

  ‘I will. Thanks so much for that, and please thank your sister for me.’

  ‘I certainly will. See ya, then. And good luck with dinner tomorrow night. I wish I could be there to take the heat for you.’

  Me too.

  ‘Thanks. Bye.’

  Emily ended the call and put the phone back on the chair. When she thought about Jake’s last words, warm comfort surged through her. She was truly lucky to have his friendship.

  She lay back against the pillows and replayed their conversation. She really hoped her mother wasn’t up to something too sneaky or embarrassing. Oh well, in a matter of hours she would know. Meanwhile, she had to get some sleep.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Emily woke early and, knowing she wouldn’t get back to sleep, got dressed and took Grace for a brisk walk before the day started heating up. She was excited about the jam – it was a sign things were finally turning around – and she ignored the nagging voice telling her that she’d have to sell more than a few dozen jars for it to make any difference to her dire financial situation.

  Instead she told herself that it wasn’t just about the money. She was starting to find her feet, coming out from the shadow of her marriage.

  Maybe she could do a lot of little things and it would all add up to some financial stability. As she walked the last few hundred metres back down the hill to the house, Emily made a to do list.