Time Will Tell

by Fiona McCallum

  In the distance she noticed dark clouds beginning to loom. That’d be right, she thought wryly. They matched her mood.

  Chapter Fifteen

  While Emily was occupied with gathering the last of the apricots, the bank of heavy purple-grey clouds moved closer. It was only when she finished and looked up to check their progress that she noticed. They seemed to chase her and Grace as they hurried back down the gully to the house.

  ‘Phew Gracie, just in time!’ Emily said, a little out of breath, as they closed the door on the black sky and the first large drops began to fall. Soon it was coming down in buckets.

  Thankfully she had jam to make to distract her from looking up at the roof for signs of damp. Worrying wouldn’t help; she’d just have deal with leaks when and if they happened. She silently asked the house gods for a break.

  She had just finished filling the jars and was washing up the pans when her phone rang. She dragged off her rubber gloves as she crossed to the kitchen table. Her parents’ number was on the screen.

  ‘Hello, Emily speaking.’

  ‘Emily. It’s your mother.’

  Emily steeled herself for the inevitable. Enid’s tone told her she was about to be told off. What have I done now?

  ‘Hi Mum. How are you feeling? We missed you on Christmas day.’

  ‘Well, if you were concerned, it might have been nice for you to enquire about my welfare, Emily.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve…’

  ‘Anyway, that’s not why I’m calling. Now, your father and I have just heard about John’s accident. What a terrible tragedy for you. Poor John. Please accept our sincere condolences.’

  ‘Thanks Mum.’ You do realise we were estranged, don’t you?

  ‘How are Thora and Gerald holding up?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to them.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘Uh, well, I’m not really sure what to say.’

  ‘Oh Emily, now is not the time to be selfish. They need your support. They are going through the worst thing a parent can go through and you don’t know what to say? Oh for goodness sake.’

  Emily tightened her shoulders. She was supposed to be a strong, independent woman, not a five-year-old girl. She had to stand up for herself.

  ‘Mum, John and I were separated. You know that. It’s not for me to turn up and pretend like everything was fine. How would that look?’

  ‘Like you care, Emily. That’s how it would look. Why should Thora and Gerald suffer because of your petty little squabble? They’re family; they need us around them at a time like this.’

  ‘Well, you call them.’

  ‘I will. Just as soon as I know you’ve been out to see them!’

  ‘Mum, I’m not driving out to see them.’

  ‘Now Emily… Oh hang on. What is it, Des?’

  There was the sound of a hand being put over the phone and a muffled conversation in the background.

  God, should I be going out there – pretending our separation didn’t happen? I’d look like a complete hypocrite. It wouldn’t be right, the estranged wife of their dead son turning up and acting like a grieving widow. No, I won’t do it.

  Suddenly Enid was back on the phone. ‘Emily, your father is demanding to speak to you. Just think about what I said and for God’s sake do the right thing.’

  ‘Bye Mum,’ Emily said, but there was no response. Then there was the scratching sound of the phone being handed over.

  ‘Hi Em.’

  ‘Hi Dad.’ She let out a sigh of relief.

  ‘Are you okay? John’s death must have shaken you up a bit.’

  ‘It has a little. I know Gerald and Thora have lost their son. I just don’t…’

  ‘I know, dear heart. You and John and Thora and Gerald have history. Just because your marriage didn’t work out, doesn’t mean you don’t care what they’re going through.’

  ‘So do you think I should be going out there to see them?’

  ‘That’s not for me to say.’

  ‘I’m not totally heartless. I just don’t think it would help them to see me.’

  ‘I tend to agree.’

  ‘Mum thinks I…’

  Des Oliphant let out a deep sigh. ‘Sweetheart, you and I both know your mum means well, but she has the blinkers on when it comes to you and John.’

  Blindfold more like, Emily wanted to say.

  ‘The only person you are answerable to is yourself. You can only do what you feel is right.’

  ‘Thanks Dad.’

  ‘You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to be happy – we both do.’

  ‘Mum sure has a funny way of showing it.’

  ‘Take no notice. This has hit her hard. As I’m sure it has you. Grief’s a funny thing. Well, you know – not funny funny.’

  ‘I know what you meant.’

  ‘I think every new death reminds us of all those we’ve said goodbye to before. It isn’t necessarily the person, but the feeling around death – the memory of the loss and… Oh, listen to me getting all philosophical.’

  It made a lot of sense, but before Emily could reply, he continued.

  ‘All I’m saying is, allow yourself to feel whatever you feel, and do whatever you have to do for your own soul. No one else can truly know how you really feel and certainly no one can tell you how you should react.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘I know you have Barbara, and I’m so pleased you do, but if you need another shoulder, you only have to ask.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And don’t worry about your mum. As I’ve said, we all deal with death and grief in our own way. It’s a tricky business.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Okay then, better go and see if the eye of the storm has passed,’ he said jovially. ‘Bye for now.’

  ‘Okay, see you. Thanks for the call.’

  Emily hung up and was surprised to find herself bursting into tears. And not just a few drops. She plucked tissues from the box. Oh Gran, I miss you so much. Her heart ached so badly she could barely draw breath.

  Grace appeared beside her and nudged her leg. Emily slid off the chair and onto the floor to cradle the dog in her lap. With her arms wrapped around the puppy, she sobbed into the soft fur on her neck.

  ‘Oh God, Gracie,’ she mumbled. ‘What would I do without you?’

  Soon Grace struggled free from Emily’s grasp and sat in front of her mistress, catching the tears that dripped from her chin, her head twisted slightly and her features showing the concerned expression that was so much a part of the border collie. Emily couldn’t help but smile. Slowly her tears subsided.

  ‘Mummy’s okay, she’s just a little sad,’ she said. She put her hands around the dog’s small face, leaned forward and kissed her on the head. ‘Your granddad’s right; grief is a tricky business.’

  Of course she was sad about John – all death was sad. But it didn’t mean she was ready to forgive him. Maybe one day, but right now it was all too recent, too raw.

  She felt for Gerald and Thora as well, but she couldn’t just drop everything and rush to their side like the good little daughter-inlaw. It would be too awkward. She’d see them at the funeral, and in the meantime she’d send a nice card and carefully worded note.

  Emily felt much better for having made the decision. Although there was a lingering niggle of doubt. What would Gran have said? Damned if you do, damned if you don’t?

  She got up from the floor and pulled herself together. Outside, the rain was coming down hard.

  Minutes later her phone rang again and Jake’s name appeared on the screen. Emily was so relieved she almost burst into tears again. It took considerable effort to keep her voice steady.

  ‘Hi Jake!’

  ‘Hi Em, how’s things?’

  ‘I’m okay. How was your trip back to the steel city?’

  ‘Fine. No dramas. Anthony and I are off for an early dinner and then it will be a very early night. I’m pretty tired actually. As I’m sure
you must be…’

  ‘I am a bit.’

  ‘It’s a lot to take in.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He was obviously giving her room to talk about how she was feeling, but she didn’t want to burden him with it all.

  ‘You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I’m here for you if you do.’

  ‘Thanks Jake, I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Well, I really wanted to just check on you and thank you so much again for a lovely weekend.’

  ‘It was my pleasure. And don’t forget you have an open invitation. You’re welcome to stay anytime you like.’

  ‘Careful what you offer, Em. I might be there every weekend.’

  And I wouldn’t mind if you were.

  She liked the sound of his voice, especially the way he said the shortened form of her name. ‘If only I could put you to work for your keep,’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘I’m sure it’ll all work itself out. At least you’ve got things moving with the survey – that’s a step in the right direction.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  As if sensing an awkward moment coming on, Jake started ending the call.

  ‘Well, I’d better get going; Anthony will be here any minute. We’re trying the local Chinese restaurant tonight.’

  ‘That sounds nice. Please thank him for organising the surveyors.’

  ‘I certainly will.’

  ‘And thank you so much for calling.’

  ‘You’re welcome. You take care of yourself, Em. And remember, I’m here if you need me.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  The question of whether to write, phone or visit John’s parents in person had started as a niggle, but ended up fully consuming Emily.

  That night she tossed and turned well into the early hours, the thunderstorm raging overhead adding to her angst. The whole house rumbled as if a freight train was going through, and lightning lit up her bedroom from behind the ancient blinds and curtains.

  Emily spent the night teetering between concern about the roof and what to do about John’s parents. At one point, Grace appeared at her bedroom door, scratching and whining to be let in. Rather than tell her off and send her back to the kitchen, Emily welcomed her into her bed.

  In the morning she was bleary-eyed and no closer to a decision. She considered ringing Barbara, but she really had to start making these decisions for herself. It wasn’t right to rely on her friend so much. Barbara had her own issues – grieving for her father in-law, looking after her husband – and was exhausted from having a houseful of guests stay for the funeral. The fact she had sent a text yesterday rather than ringing told Emily her friend needed some space. Emily had texted back, thanking her for checking, telling her that she was fine, and that she hoped Barbara was too.

  That was the thing about great friendships; you could have your space when you needed it and a friend would understand.

  So, as much as Emily wanted to consult with her over what to do about the Strattens, she hadn’t, and wouldn’t. Anyway, she was sure Barbara would just say something along the lines of what her father had said; that, really, it was entirely up to her.

  Refusing to give in to the washed-out feeling, Emily dragged herself out of bed, had coffee and breakfast, and set her mind to dealing with domestic duties. Thankfully the dark clouds had temporarily passed, and where she was looked clear for getting some washing dry.

  She had just come in after hanging out the sheets, when her phone skittered on the bench beside her and began ringing. The display showed her parents’ home number. She sighed. If she ignored it she’d just have to phone back later. If it was her mother, it would be best to just get it over with. As she answered it she sent up a prayer to no one in particular that it be her father; she really didn’t have the energy for another tussle.

  ‘Hello, Emily speaking.’

  ‘Now Emily…’

  Oh God, here we go. She took a deep, fortifying breath.

  ‘…your father and I have been talking and we’ve decided we can lend you five thousand dollars.’

  What?

  Emily could hear her father in the background. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but the fact that she could hear him at all over her mother meant whatever it was it wasn’t good.

  ‘Oh! Wow! Well, thanks Mum, but I don’t think…’

  ‘But your father said you were short of money.’

  ‘Well yes I am, but I’m sure I’ll manage. I really appreciate the offer, but I’d rather sort it out on my own.’

  ‘What about Gerald and Thora? Have you spoken to them?’

  Why on earth would I borrow money from the Strattens? Has she completely lost the plot? Emily frowned. How could her mother think her so insensitive?

  ‘Um, no, why would…?’ Emily’s cheeks began to flame.

  ‘Well he is their son, Emily. They should at least be consulted.’

  Consulted? About what? What the hell are you on about?

  ‘Sorry Mum, but what are you talking about?’

  ‘The funeral of course, Emily! For goodness sake, you really are dense sometimes!’

  The funeral. Emily’s mouth dropped open. Was her mother seriously suggesting she pay for John’s funeral? No, surely not.

  Jesus, what was the protocol here anyway? Would it be any different if she had plenty of money?

  ‘Emily! Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here.’ Emily searched her mind for some way to stall things. She could hear her father again in the background. He was now practically shouting.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘You’re sure you don’t want the money – it’s just that it’s in an account we have to give notice on.’

  Emily’s head was swimming. What was she supposed to say? Why would she pay for his funeral anyway, and why would anyone – least of all her mother – expect her to?!

  It wasn’t fair. Where was the ‘If you’re unhappy, darling, then of course you should leave’, the ‘You have our full support; whatever you need’, and the ‘We just want you to be happy’? Instead, Enid had given her a lecture about lying in the bed she’d made – she’d as good as sided with John.

  Emily felt a sudden feeling of vindictiveness engulf her; she should tell her mother just what a piece of shit her son-in-law had really been.

  But no, she acknowledged, calming slightly; she’d just come across as petty. Enid only ever saw what she wanted to see. Her mother would say it was the grief talking and offer some pep talk about time healing all. And Emily couldn’t bear that. She was not grieving; she was bloody furious!

  ‘Emily! Emily! Des, are you there? There must be something wrong with her phone,’ she heard her mother say to the background. It seemed her father had given up trying to convince her to stop this nonsense phone call.

  Emily bit her lip as she tried to find the right tone – firm and rational but holding the fury in check. She took a deep breath before speaking.

  ‘Mum, John and I had separated. You know this. In just under a year we would have been signing divorce papers. So I have absolutely no intention of paying for his funeral. It is not my responsibility.’

  ‘Of course it is; you’re his wife. It’s your place, Emily.’ The unspoken question – ‘What will people think?’ – hung in the air.

  ‘Mum! You are not listening to me!’ Emily shut her mouth and silently counted to five in an attempt to calm herself. ‘He’d been with at least one woman since we split up, probably more; let the most recent one deal with it!’

  ‘Emily! What a dreadfully disrespectful thing to say. The man has died; at least show some compassion.’

  Emily again toyed with providing a few home truths, but shook the thoughts aside and stayed silent.

  ‘Well, you should at least phone Thora and Gerald.’

  Of course she should, and she would. Probably. Maybe. But not for the reasons Enid was thinking.

  It would be a difficult phone call to ma
ke. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since she’d left their son. Now she at least had a valid excuse, and her call would be expected. She felt a ripple of fear make its way through her before disappearing.

  ‘Yes, I will phone them. But it will only be to offer my condolences and certainly not to offer to pay for or organise the funeral.’

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  ‘Mum? Are you still there?’

  ‘Emily, it’s me, Dad. Your mother’s a bit upset.’

  Emily heard a door slam in the background. ‘Sorry Dad.’

  ‘Don’t be. I did try to explain that it had nothing to do with you, but you know how stubborn your mother can be…’

  ‘Yes.’ And now Enid would go off and sulk for not having got her way. Emily had seen it so many times before. Back when she was still living at home, if things hadn’t improved after an hour, Emily would seek her mother out and inevitably back down on whatever she’d done to upset her.

  With a bit of a shock, Emily realised she’d never actually stood up to her mother and then continued to stand her ground. With the realisation came a little sense of empowerment. She allowed herself a moment of congratulations. Not for upsetting her mother – she actually felt quite guilty about that – but for properly standing up for herself for once. And she was not going to back down this time.

  ‘Em, don’t worry about it. I’ll try again to make her see sense.’ ‘Dad?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘You don’t think I should be paying for John’s funeral do you?’ ‘Not for a bloody second!’ ‘Even if money wasn’t such an issue?’ ‘Absolutely not! God, Em, don’t let your mother’s insane notion get into your head. She’s just worried about what people will think – you know how she is.’

  ‘Dad, she does know it was definitely over between us, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘Well, I thought so. But I think with his death she’s retreated into some sort of fantasy land where the two of you are concerned.’

  ‘Great,’ Emily said with a groan. ‘She’s not, you know, showing signs of, um, Alzheimer’s or something, is she?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I am keeping an eye out because of the family history, but I think this is just a case of wishful thinking and severe disappointment.’