by Cathryn Hein
But Felicity’s smile was fragile. Fake, Em thought. Fragile and fake. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’
Em leaned her hip against the edge of the counter. ‘About what?’
‘Digby. He’s so upset, Em.’ Felicity’s blue eyes began to pool but, like the smile, Em couldn’t bring herself to believe the tears were real. ‘Your family was always so close and now. . .’
Something shifted in Em. Something cynical and mean, a monster roused by the breakdown of her and Josh’s relationship. Her mind flew to Charles’s notes, still scattered on the table at Rocking Horse Hill. The disturbing facts they contained, facts a part of Em still resisted. She thought of Granny B, of Adrienne. The harm that had befallen her family. She thought of Josh, Jas and Teagan, their warnings. Lastly, she thought of Digby and the hill, and the monster shifted again, growing claws.
‘And whose fault is that?’
Shock turned Felicity’s eyes enormous. For a long moment she could only stare at Em, then she stiffened and tugged at the cuffs of her jacket. ‘I haven’t done anything except fall in love with your brother.’
‘No?’ Em took a step forward, surprised when Felicity stood her ground. But jail had probably taught her the danger of backing down. ‘Where were you that night?’
‘At the stables, watching television, like Digby told you.’
‘Watching what, exactly? You must have had the sound turned up loud not to hear Granny B calling out. Strange when we could hear you and Dig arguing last night.’
A mascara-stained tear slid down Felicity’s cheek leaving a grey streak through her make-up. ‘I was watching Montague Manor. It’s a good show. Australian. Set after the war.’ Her lip wobbled. ‘I’ve always liked stories about families. Especially proper ones, different to mine. What?’ Her eyes widened even further. ‘What?’
Em felt as though she was made of ice. Felicity had lied and now Em had caught her. ‘I know you did it.’
‘No.’
‘And I’m going to make sure Digby knows it too.’
‘No.’ Several more trails of mascara wound down her cheeks. ‘You can’t.’
Em strode behind the counter. She didn’t trust herself to remain close to Felicity. The monster inside wanted to hurt something, to make this woman pay for all she’d done.
‘Em. . .’
She regarded Felicity coldly. ‘Get out.’
At the computer, the screensaver’s colourful starburst gave way to her email program.
Keyboard taps became the only sound in the shop.
When she’d finished she glanced up. Felicity was standing in front of one of the display bins, swiping her cheeks with a tissue. A sudden rush of guilt raked Em’s chest. She dropped her head to take several deep breaths and remind herself not to be fooled. This was the woman who’d locked her grandmother out on a freezing night. Who’d left Granny B with a cough that still ripped at her lungs. Who’d cleaved a family and destroyed a relationship that could have been forever. Who’d taken Em’s warm, caring heart and turned it savage.
Em raised her head again and kept her gaze straight.
Felicity turned and met it with one as equally unwavering. She placed the tissue in her coat pocket and, with her spine rigid, opened the door. Street noise and cold rushed in. For a long moment Felicity kept her back to Em, then she turned, her husky voice filled with conviction. ‘He loves me.’
Em aligned the mouse curser over the send button and clicked.
‘Not for much longer.’
A dirty, unwholesome feeling crept up on Em in the mid-afternoon and refused to let go. She kept checking her email, hoping that her message to Digby would bounce. It wouldn’t. She’d used his Department of Agriculture address.
Fear of how he would react made her nauseous. Nor could she stop the sick feeling when she remembered Felicity’s expression at Em’s parting remark. The distress in her eyes, as if she knew that single click would mean the end of her happiness. What if Em had been wrong?
Home and solitude couldn’t come fast enough but it was after six when she turned into her drive. At first her heart soared as her headlights lit the reflectors of another car, then she recognised Teagan’s beaten-up Toyota and knew something was horribly wrong.
Em found her on the back verandah, huddled up like a street waif with Muffy in her lap. Teagan looked up, her eyes hollow, her freckled skin pale and taut over bones that seemed to have sharpened to painful edges. A thin wool jumper with holes in the elbows hung off her frame and her jeans were mud-streaked around the cuffs. On her feet were a pair of cheap slippers, also mud-covered, as if she’d run from home in panic.
Em took her hand. ‘Why don’t we get you inside?’
‘It’s all gone, Em. Everything. All that work. Gone.’
‘Come inside where it’s warm first, then you can tell me everything that’s happened.’
It took a bit more coaxing to get Teagan to her feet. She held Em’s hand like a child, allowing herself to be led inside to the couch where Em tucked a woollen rug around her. As though sensing she was needed, Muffy huddled by Teagan’s feet, offering her body for comfort like a breathing fluffy toy.
Em stoked Teagan’s hair away from her face. ‘I’m going to make us some tea, okay? And then we’ll talk.’
Teagan nodded. She looked shell-shocked.
Em kept watch while she waited for their tea to brew. She contemplated food but suspected it would be a wasted effort. Perhaps later, when Teagan had revealed her secrets and let her anguish go. In the meantime, sweet tea would do.
She handed Teagan her mug and sat down alongside her, blowing on her tea as she waited. The fire spread warmth she didn’t seem to feel.
‘He’s lost it all,’ Teagan said eventually, staring at the glass front of the fire and the dancing flames within. ‘Everything. The farm, my money. It’s all debt. My life, all my dreams, gone.’
‘What happened?’
‘Gambling.’ Teagan’s voice was bitter. ‘Although he doesn’t call it that. He calls it trading contracts for difference. A perfectly legal financial derivative, no different to trading shares. What a load of bullshit. It’s gambling. And he lost.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You know what I can’t believe? That we never suspected.’
‘Not even your mum? He must have been spending a fair bit of time on the computer.’
‘Oh, he was, but here’s the real clanger: she thought he was surfing porn sites and was too embarrassed to confront him about it.’
‘Oh, Blissbomb.’
‘The bank’s foreclosing. He told us this afternoon.’ She swallowed another mouthful of tea, as though fortifying herself. ‘I’m leaving, Em. I have to get out, away from here. I can’t stand another day.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘To my aunt, in New South Wales.’ She breathed out. ‘Astra will have to go. My horse gear and the float. They’re not worth much, but. . .’
‘I’ll buy her from you. Take care of her here, and when you’re back on your feet you can have her back.’
‘I can’t ask you to do that. It’s too much.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Em smiled. ‘You mightn’t think so right now, but you’re worth it.’
The floodgates opened. Until then Teagan had been holding it in but with Em’s words her grief poured out in great wracking sobs. Em took their mugs and placed them safely on the floor before cradling her friend and soothing her as best she could, stroking her hair against the howls and self-recriminations, shushing her, promising a new life, a new future.
Wishing it for them both.
Although Em asked her to reconsider, Teagan was determined to leave as fast as she could. Em made an emergency call to her casual, Helen, to look after the shop the following morning so she could help her friend.
While Teagan was at the farm fetching Astra, Em headed to the building society, where Jas helped her organise the transfer of seven thousand dollars to Teagan’s account. Astra was wo
rth double that, but it was all Em had spare. She could sell shares but trades took three days to settle and Teagan had refused a cent more. Em had done enough. Seven thousand would see her through.
‘I’ll buy her float,’ said Jas. ‘And the saddles.’
‘You can’t afford it.’
‘I know, but I want to help.’
‘Then you can store both at your place and look after buyers when we advertise.’
‘Tell her I’ll call and hug her for me, please?’ Jasmine’s eyes filmed. ‘I’ll miss her.’
‘I know. So will I.’
Em was prepared for more tears at the hill when Teagan said goodbye, but the previous night seemed to have exhausted her supply. Except for some brief wateriness as she farewelled Astra, who appeared delighted with her change of location, Teagan remained remarkably calm.
‘It’s weird,’ she said to Em, who was standing by the ute’s open door. The rear tray was half-packed with suitcases, a couple of faded canvas duffle bags, an equally faded swag and two hastily taped boxes. All her possessions. ‘But I feel liberated somehow, like the world’s lifted off me.’
‘You’ve been under a lot of stress.’
‘And now I’m going to start anew.’
‘You’ll make a great go of it too.’ Em hugged her tightly. ‘Call me if you need anything.’ She shook her gently for emphasis. ‘Anything, you hear?’
‘I hear.’ Teagan hugged her back. ‘You did the right thing, telling Dig about Felicity. Don’t think otherwise.’
They’d talked into the night, about the Blisses, about Teagan’s ruined dreams, about family and ties that could turn into nooses. About right and wrong and the grey in between. About friendship and love, and that elusive state called contentment.
‘And don’t worry about Josh. You can try again, when this is all over and everyone’s safe.’
Em smiled at her optimism. ‘I’ll miss you.’
‘I’ll miss you too. But we’ll see each other again.’
‘Absolutely. You have a horse to collect.’
Teagan laughed and somehow Em knew she’d be okay. ‘She won’t want to leave here.’
‘Of course she will. Astra knows who her true mistress is.’
They hugged again, fiercely, relaying thanks for a friendship that was impossible to articulate with words. That strong bond forged from liking, and life’s ups and downs.
A precious thing to be cherished. Like proper love.
Twenty-Five
Josh made yet another restless circuit of the shed as the first of the afternoon’s forecast showers began to patter the roof. What a dick he was. He should have known this was going to happen. He should never have grabbed Em’s hand at Camrick, never thought that they could resurrect what they once had.
He stopped in front of the easel and stared at the finished design. At the work he and his dad had spent so many hours on, enabling them to reconnect, to talk, to fuse a friendship that had loosened in the years he’d been gone. Josh wrapped his fists around the cypress board and braced himself with straightened arms, his head lowered. He breathed in hard. If nothing else, Em had given him precious moments with his dad. He had to at least be a little bit grateful for that.
Josh released the easel and stood back. The timber was soft and warmly coloured, with almost pinkish hues. It was also an awkward shape, which made getting it to Em problematic. Easy, wrapped up and laid flat in the back of the ute, but that would mean handing it over in person. Briefly, Josh considered asking his dad to deliver it to the hill, then dismissed the idea. His days of cowardice were over. He’d face her, talk normally and hold his chin up.
Plenty of other women in the world. Plenty.
‘Fuck,’ he said, and strode out of the shed.
His mum was at the kitchen table, scribbling in one of her notebooks. Better today, although Josh worried it was an act for him, to prove his accusation wrong. On his arrival home from the hill yesterday, he’d immediately apologised for his outburst. One rift in his life was enough, and he had a better understanding of his mum’s motives now. Thanks to Em.
Something else he owed her.
Michelle looked up, her smile faltering as she took in Josh’s face. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’ He scraped out a chair and sat down. Drumming his fingers on the table, he stared around the room. He rose again and filled the kettle, aware all the time of his mother’s assessing gaze. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘What I want is for you to tell me what’s wrong.’
Josh leaned against the kitchen bench with his arms crossed, head tilted towards the kettle as though his mood alone could bring it to the boil.
‘It helps if you turn it on,’ said Michelle, rising and reaching around him to flick the switch. She joined him along the bench and leaned her shoulder into his. ‘Is it Em?’
He nodded, his teeth clamped to stop himself from swearing.
‘Have you broken up?’
‘Something like that.’
His beard began to itch. He scratched it, thinking he might shave it off, and then remembered how sexy Em said she found it.
Em. Jesus. When would it end?
‘Oh, Joshy. What happened?’
He shrugged. How to explain? He didn’t really know himself. He dropped his arms and crossed the room to the sideboard and stared at all the happy faces trapped in his mum’s precious photo collection. He’d thought there would be one of him and Em one day. Now that would never happen.
‘We argued.’
‘About what?’
He spread his arms a little before letting them slap back against his thighs. ‘I don’t know. Us. Her. I thought we could make a go of things but all this crap with her family got in the way.’
Michelle sighed. ‘That Felicity has caused so much damage. Poor Em has tied herself in knots over that girl.’
‘Hardly. All she does is defend her.’
‘Yes, because of you.’ At Josh’s uncomprehending look Michelle went back to the table and sat down. ‘Do you know she still hasn’t forgiven herself for what she did to you?’ She nodded, and answered his unspoken question. ‘She told me. You never admitted what really happened.’
‘You and Em were close,’ said Josh, sitting with her again. ‘I didn’t want you to think badly of her.’
‘I guessed that. And you’re right, I wouldn’t have been terribly forgiving if I’d known.’ She let out a sigh. ‘I’m still not greatly impressed but at least I can see how much she’s learned and changed from it. And she’s so very sorry.’
‘What’s that got to do with Felicity?’
‘Nothing as far as I’m concerned, but Em is convinced there’s some sort of parallel between herself and Felicity. If Digby can give Felicity a second chance after the terrible thing she did, then maybe you could do the same with her. All it would take was understanding and forgiveness.’
Josh stared at the window. Of all the things he could have said to Em, the dig about her cheating was the worst.
‘She loves you, Joshy. You need to sort this out.’
‘How?’
She gave his cowlick a yank. ‘By talking to her, you silly boy.’
Josh stared at the table. He wasn’t sure he wanted to sort it. The relationship had been veneer-thin from the outset. Lots of sex, food and nothing much deeper. The closest they’d come to talking about their feelings was the morning they’d climbed the hill.
Hardly the behaviour of a woman in love.
His mother sighed. ‘You know your trouble?’
‘What?’
‘You’re too scared of getting your heart broken again.’
If Josh wasn’t feeling so crap he would have laughed. It was too late to save his heart. Anyway, she was wrong. He’d decided the day they climbed the hill that when it came to love there was no security, only chance. ‘I’m not scared.’
Michelle raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m not.’
‘Joshy, Jo
shy,’ she said with a sigh, ‘how many times do I have to tell you? You can fool yourself, but you’ll never fool your old mum. The whole time you were with her you were scared of what she could do to you. So you held back. Poor Em never knew where she stood. For all she knew you were using her. This business with Felicity just gave you the excuse to get the out you were looking for.’
Josh couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Using her? If anyone was being used, it was him. ‘How could I be using her? I love her.’
‘We all know that, but does she?’
Josh looked away, a sick feeling inside as he recalled his dad’s advice: Nothing sucks a man’s soul drier than regrets. Josh’s already felt like a desert.
Smiling, Michelle patted the table. ‘You stay here. I’ll make us tea.’
He slumped, his head in his hands, remembering Bianca and the way she’d stared at him with her cool blue eyes and told him she wanted to separate. That she didn’t love him any more and she was pretty certain he sure as hell didn’t love her. He had, but something had broken between them and he hadn’t wanted to face it until that day. Just as he hadn’t wanted to reveal how he felt to Em.
His mum placed a steaming mug in front of him. ‘Now, Joshy, my sweet, let me tell you a little bit about women. . .’
*
Oily puddles shone on McArthur Street, lit by headlights and shop lights. A shower had passed through, enough to slick the bitumen and scent the air. The puddles swirled with rainbow colours as the surface scum shifted with the wind and traffic vibration.
‘Off to see Em?’
Josh stopped. He’d been so deep in thought he hadn’t noticed Digby’s approach. He smiled and reached out to shake hands. ‘Digby, how’s things?’
Digby shrugged. ‘Could be better.’
