Time Will Tell

by Fiona McCallum

  Now she was surprised to see how much they’d grown, even in the time since she’d been gone. She should have felt pleased with how well they looked in their nice straight rows, but instead felt an odd sense of sadness tugging at her throat. They were nothing more than a monument to a better time – before it had all gone so horribly wrong.

  Emily swallowed hard and turned her gaze back to the front. Just as they turned into the driveway that wove past the house, she saw a series of tall steel uprights framing the landscape like a sculpture. The new shed. She frowned at the pile of rubble that remained where the old cottage had been felled. She remembered the afternoon she had come home to find John in his green front-end loader, demolishing the place she had dreamed of doing up – demolishing her dreams. Had he been telling the truth or not about needing the land? She felt a little guilty.

  You left because he shot at your dog, not just because he demolished the cottage, a voice in her head said. And because it was only a matter of time before he hit you too. I did the right thing, she reminded herself. She was glad she hadn’t brought Grace today.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Barbara asked, putting a hand on Emily’s knee. Emily nodded. ‘I wish I didn’t have to do this.’ ‘I know, but if we get stuck in it’ll be over before you know it.’ ‘I doubt there’ll be anything I want – not now.’

  ‘Well, you won’t know until you look. And anyway, it’ll be good closure for you.’

  ‘I thought that was John turning up to my parents’ house with all my stuff in a trailer,’ Emily said with a wan smile. ‘Not to mention signing off on the financials.’

  ‘I guess the universe didn’t see it like that, because here you are back again.’

  ‘Well, I bloody well hope this is the last time. Once the funeral is over, I’m done with John.’

  ‘I know you’ve got bad memories, but it really is quite a nice house. The whole setting is lovely – those gorgeous big gums,’ Barbara said, bringing the ute to a stop at the open double farm gates into the large area enclosing the house and a variety of sheds.

  Emily gazed around. ‘I thought that too when he first brought me here,’ she said. ‘It took my breath away. I loved the huge gum trees dotted around the old brick-and-stone buildings and flanking the creek. And of course the orchard down the way.’ Emily didn’t want to go and check – didn’t want to know if Stacy had used the fruit or if it had been left to rot; either scenario would probably do her in.

  ‘Isn’t it sad how our whole perception of something physical can be completely skewed by emotional stuff?’

  ‘Oh that’s very deep, Barbara. But you’re right; I thought John was the most handsome man I’d ever met until he started being nasty. That night he turned up at Mum and Dad’s with the trailer I couldn’t believe I’d ever found him attractive at all. Weird, huh?’

  ‘Hopefully after today and then the funeral you’ll feel free of him.’

  ‘God, I’m sick of funerals. Gran’s, Doug’s, now John’s. It feels like the only social activities I’ve had for ages are bloody funerals.’

  ‘Me too. Other than our picnics with you and Jake, I haven’t done anything for ages.’

  ‘That’s because there is nothing to do around here,’ Emily said.

  ‘Am I detecting cabin fever?’

  ‘No, not really. I love being at the house. And it’s not like I’ve got the money to spend anyway. Sorry, I’m just feeling sorry for myself.’

  ‘You’re allowed – but only for a few moments. It sounds like we need to take a day trip to Hope Springs or Charity Flat. We can just window shop.’

  ‘Sounds good. But let’s wait until after the funeral when I can finally put John behind me – again,’ Emily added with a groan.

  ‘Okay, you’re on.’

  Barbara put the ute in gear and slowly drove the last hundred metres to the house, and then turned off the vehicle. Emily felt a wave of sadness mixed with nostalgia. Physically, the house and surrounds didn’t look a lot different from when John had first brought her here before their marriage. It was still the same double-fronted farmhouse made to look long with the addition of two rooms at the far end, and a large washhouse near the back door. Yet, really, everything had changed. It was impossible to know the heartbreak hidden by those thick walls that were rendered in the same pale grey as the nearby riverbed.

  They got out and walked up the sloping concrete path to the back glass sliding door. As she reached for the handle, Emily thought it was lucky that John had never locked the house. Asking Thora for a key would have raised all sorts of awkward questions.

  The door shuddered in her hand and squealed and scraped over the dirt and debris in the tracks. A blast of stale air rushed out, carrying with it the unmistakeable odour of cigarettes.

  ‘God, I so don’t miss that smell,’ Emily said. ‘I’d forgotten how awful it was.’

  ‘I thought he only smoked outside.’

  ‘Apparently not anymore.’

  ‘If it’s like this after no one being here for a few days, how bad must it have been when he was living here? Jesus, I’m surprised he didn’t have lung cancer.’

  ‘Well, lucky for him he crashed his car instead,’ Emily said.

  She frowned. Her mind went back to the crash scene. She still found it hard to believe it had happened – there of all places – along the fifteen or so kilometres of dirt road.

  ‘What’s wrong – other than the obvious?’ Barbara asked, looking at her.

  ‘Just thinking about the corner he crashed at.’

  ‘What about it?’

  Emily shrugged. ‘It just seems weird to me that it happened there, when there are so many much more dangerous corners.’

  ‘I guess his time was just up,’ Barbara said with a shrug, and stepped past Emily into the large enclosed verandah. She continued through the open doorway into the big central country-style kitchen.

  Emily remained standing at the sliding door, and Barbara looked back at her.

  ‘Sweetie, you’ll never know, so don’t dwell on it. If there was anything suspicious about the crash, the police would have been all over it and we would have heard. Just let it go.’

  ‘I know. You’re right,’ Emily said, moving into the house at last, but unable to shake the feeling that there was a whole lot more to the story.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emily stood just inside the kitchen, taking in the scene before her.

  ‘God, he lives – lived – like an absolute pig!’ Barbara exclaimed.

  Dirty dishes were piled haphazardly in the single sink and on the drainers on both sides. The nearest end of the large timber kitchen table was strewn with newspapers, magazines, envelopes and what looked like business letters.

  Tea towels, streaked and smudged with what Emily didn’t want to think, were draped over the brown vinyl upholstered chairs.

  At the far end of the table, near the sink and stove, sat a plate with the remnants of something brown, which could have been anything from faeces to gravy or barbecue sauce. The only sign of tidiness was the knife and fork lined up across the plate. In front of the plate was a higgledy-piggledy collection of condiments in various shapes and sizes and brands, and an almost empty roll of paper towel.

  Emily was frozen to the spot, her senses struggling to comprehend the extent of the filth. She heard the buzzing of blowflies, and suddenly noticed the sickly stench of rotting, decayed food. Its source wasn’t immediately identifiable; the stagnant water underneath the pile of dishes in the sink? The rubbish bin overflowing against the nearby wall? Or both? Beginning to gag, she pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket, pushed it hard against her nose, and bolted from the room.

  Back outside she gulped in the fresh air, and was starting to feel better when Barbara joined her.

  ‘Bloody hell, that’s bad,’ Emily said. ‘Maybe we should call in some cleaners and come back when we’re not going to catch the plague.’

  ‘I’d rather just get this over with,’ Barbara
said. ‘It’ll be much better when we open all the windows and air the place out. Why don’t you do that while I get rid of the bin and sort out the dishes.’

  ‘Okay, thanks. I’m guessing by the mess there was no floozy currently on the scene,’ Emily said, as she turned and went back into the house. She again found herself wondering whether John had been alone for Christmas, but shook the question aside. There was no point thinking about that now.

  She held her breath and rushed through the kitchen into the hall beyond to open the rarely used front door. As she did, she again had the unsettling feeling that things were the same but somehow totally different.

  She went through the house and pushed up every grime-covered window and then struggled with, and finally dragged open, the remaining three dirt-sealed doors. She returned to the kitchen where the stale air now held a slightly sickly artificial floral note.

  ‘Good idea,’ she said, nodding at the can of Country Fresh toilet spray now standing on the table.

  ‘Well, it took me a while to decide which smell was actually worse. Are you okay?’ Barbara asked, half turning from the sink where her hands were buried deeply in thick suds.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Emily said, nodding.

  ‘Good. While I finish these, why don’t you have a quick scout around and think about anything you might want to take. Then I’ll help you go through room by room.’

  Emily hesitated.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I still don’t feel right about it; too much like snooping.’

  ‘Well, you promised Thora you’d do it, so there’s no backing out now.’

  ‘Hmm. I suppose I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.’

  ‘Imagine how she must be feeling. She’s just lost her son. You’re saving her extra heartache, so feel good about that.’

  ‘Could you imagine her arriving and seeing the state he’d left the place in – she’d have had a stroke!’

  ‘Exactly, which is why we’re cleaning the place up. Actually, first can you grab a tea towel; I’m running out of room.’

  Emily went to the third drawer beside the sink, pulled out a crumpled tea towel and took a plate from the drainer.

  ‘Makes you wonder, doesn’t it, what the police must find on a daily basis,’ Emily said. ‘Yuck!’

  ‘Which is why our mothers taught us never to leave the house without first doing the dishes,’ Barbara said.

  Emily dried the dishes and automatically went straight to where they’d always been put away.

  ‘So, does it feel weird being here, especially standing here doing something exactly as you used to do?’

  ‘Yes and no. On the one hand it’s like nothing has changed. But when I stop and let myself think about it, it feels totally wrong me being here. I really don’t like the idea of going through John’s stuff – especially the office.’

  ‘Well, I’m dying to have a good nosy. It’s not like he’ll know. I bet you’ll find a heap of stuff you had forgotten about. Especially when you can take your time and not worry about him getting upset.’

  ‘Actually you’re right; there is a set of new towels I wouldn’t mind taking – hopefully they’re still new.’ And there was all the silver and crystal and china; the ‘good stuff’ as John had called it. She was going to take that if it was still there.

  ‘Believe me, that’ll be just the start. Your place really could do with some homey touches. No offence.’

  ‘None taken. But do you think it might be bad luck to take stuff from a bad marriage and use it to start over? I heard that somewhere.’

  ‘I guess it depends on its significance, and the emotion attached to it. How about we just cross each bridge when we come to it? If in doubt, I’ll be your voice of reason,’ Barbara said. She pulled the plug, rinsed the suds down the drain, dragged off the rubber gloves and laid them over the tap.

  ‘Well, at least the kitchen is looking and smelling a whole lot better,’ Barbara said with a nod of satisfaction. She looked around the room. ‘I gave the stove top and benches a wipe down, but I’m stuffed if I’m giving the place a full-on spring clean.’

  ‘I reckon I’ll wash all the linen, towels, and the tablecloth. It’s pretty windy; it should all dry while we’re here. And I may as well do John’s washing as well while I’m at it,’ Emily said thoughtfully.

  ‘That’s generous of you.’

  ‘Just seems the right thing to do,’ she said, shrugging. ‘But I draw the line at taking the curtains down and doing them.’

  ‘All right then. Let’s start in the bedroom so you can get the first load of washing on.’

  ‘Okay, let’s do it,’ Emily said, taking a deep breath and striding forward.

  Chapter Twenty

  Opening the wardrobe, Emily was shocked to feel nostalgic at the first whiff of John’s masculine, earthy scent. God how she’d once loved that smell…

  She shook her head. Scent really was a powerful thing. But she had to focus and get the choosing of the outfit out of the way.

  ‘I wish Thora was doing this. How do you think she would like him to be dressed? What if I get it wrong?’

  ‘There is no right or wrong. Just make a choice. I’m guessing he wasn’t a suit man.’

  ‘Well he does own one…’

  ‘Just put him in something that is him – favourite jumper, pants.’

  ‘Should I dress him in a jumper if it’s the middle of summer?’

  ‘Maybe a nice shirt then,’ Barbara said, clearly becoming a little exasperated.

  ‘Okay.’ Emily knew just the one – a white shirt with pale grey floral embroidery. She’d bought it for him to wear to a wedding last year.

  Upon seeing it he’d turned up his nose and said it was girly. But she’d managed to convince him it looked good. And it had.

  Sadness threatened to overwhelm her again as she dragged the shirt off the hanger. It looked clean, but not freshly washed. He’d clearly worn it and then put it away again. Emily deliberated on adding it to the washing pile. Or would Thora appreciate smelling his scent again? Like she had?

  Looking around, she noticed Barbara had left the room. Soon she heard the vacuum cleaner start up in another part of the house.

  She put the shirt on the bed and set about finding John’s charcoal dress pants. Would he need underwear? He’d need shoes – his shiny black shoes were right there – but would he need socks? Unsure, Emily put together a whole outfit, including a pair of boxer briefs and dress socks. She was careful to choose the best, least worn. For a brief moment she considered buying a new pair of each, but dismissed the thought as utterly ridiculous. Thora would have enough on her mind without worrying about him wearing brand-new underwear.

  She carefully folded the clothes and put them on top of the shoes in the shopping bag they’d set aside for the purpose. She then stood back and did an inventory in case there was anything she might have missed. His dress watch.

  She opened his bedside drawer. There sat the heavy stainless steel watch she’d given him as a wedding present. The lump in her throat swelled and tears filled her eyes. He’d loved that watch. Emily carefully placed it on the top of the pile of clothes. She took the bag out into the hall so she wouldn’t have to look at it again, swallowed back the emotion and set to work on going methodically through the rest of the bedroom and his things.

  Slowly they worked their way from the east side of the house to the west, tidying up and occasionally putting aside an item to take with them. Emily had paused in the lounge room. She so badly needed more seating over at her house. And a TV that was made in the twenty-first century and had a remote control would be nice. No, it wouldn’t be right. She’d reluctantly torn herself away. They were there to clean up the place, not clean it out.

  All this belonged to Thora and Gerald, other than her few things and the wedding presents. Most of the furniture had been in the house prior to her arrival and whilst none of it was particularly valuable, it was old and most likely Stratten family heirlo
oms.

  Thora and Gerald had a houseful of lovely things and there was probably nothing here that would be of any interest to them. But that was for them to decide when they came out after the dust and emotion had settled.

  When Barbara and Emily finished, the place would be able to be left for a few months without any problems and electricity wouldn’t be wasted running an empty fridge and freezer and appliances left on standby.

  Barbara had thought of everything, right down to bringing three huge eskies. Why let perfectly good food go to waste? There would be nothing worse for Thora and Gerald than to be greeted by the smell of rotting meat if the power went off at some point.

  When they opened the chest freezer, they found it well stocked with lamb. Someone – Stacy? – had bagged and labelled all the cuts and carefully stacked them. The writing wasn’t John’s. As she and Barbara stared into the space, Emily knew they were both thinking about the same thing; the message John had given Barbara the day Emily had left him, reminding her to get freezer bags on her way home once she was ‘over her little hissy fit’. That day seemed so long ago.

  ‘Lucky you like your lamb,’ Barbara said with a kind smile as she shut the lid. They discussed ‘borrowing’ the freezer to store the meat, but decided Emily could probably fit everything in the freezer part of the old upside-down fridge her father had found her, which was currently almost empty. If not, there was plenty of spare room in Barbara and David’s chest freezer.

  Emily was surprised at how much she found that she wanted to keep – they had been given so many lovely things for their wedding. On the awful day she had walked out, she’d only had her car boot to carry things in – and no home to put them in anyway.

  Feeling so down at the time, she couldn’t imagine ever bothering with fine dining again. But seeing it all now, Emily quite liked the idea of getting out all the finery next time Jake came to stay. Not to impress him, but just because it added a nice, civilised touch to dinner.