Saving Grace

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Jake, darling,’ Elizabeth continued. ‘Why don’t you settle Auntie Enid and Uncle Des in the lounge and get them a drink – there’s a dear.’

  ‘Actually,’ Emily said, ‘the kitchen would be better. There’s a nice breeze and dinner isn’t too far away.’

  ‘Okay, the kitchen it is,’ Des Oliphant said jovially, and led the way.

  Emily noticed her mother’s nose wrinkle with distaste, and felt the slightest shimmer of satisfaction.

  Everyone settled around the table, except Emily, who retrieved her apron from the bench. She carefully manoeuvred Jake around to sit him next to Enid. Her father sat himself opposite with Elizabeth, and the end was left for her.

  She’d really wanted her father to be the head of the table, but she hadn’t got in quickly enough, and now it was too late. What sort of a fool would she look now if she shuffled everyone around like chess pieces for no apparent reason?

  Anyway, it doesn’t matter, she told herself, turning to put the finishing touches on her simple cheese platter. It was too hot for her usual starter of pumpkin soup, but one of those fancy cold soups would have been just the shot. She must see if Barbara had any good recipes for starters; she needed a larger repertoire.

  ‘Em, would you like to open the red wine now, or wait for dinner?’ her father asked.

  ‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind a white – I put a bottle in the fridge earlier,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Could you get me one, Jake sweetie,’ she cooed.

  Emily bristled. God, Liz. You’re laying it on a bit thick.

  ‘Uh, sure. Des, Enid, what can I get you? I brought some beer, if you prefer.’

  ‘Actually, that’d be great,’ Des said. ‘But only if you have a light – designated driver and all that.’

  ‘I certainly do, it’s my preference.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Enid?’

  ‘I think I’ll join Elizabeth in a white – as long as it’s not chardonnay; too bitter for me.’

  ‘No, I think it’s a sauvignon blanc,’ Jake said.

  ‘Yes, from the Marlborough region in New Zealand.’

  Emily was pleased to hear no endearments. Jake clearly wasn’t going along with Elizabeth’s charade. Or was it a charade? And why did it matter, anyway? She started slightly when he appeared beside her and leant against the bench.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked in a whisper. ‘Sorry Liz’s being a bit full-on – nothing to do with me.’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she said, her answer giving away nothing of the appreciation she felt at his acknowledgment of the situation.

  ‘What can I get you to drink?’ he asked.

  ‘Actually, I’d love a beer, if that’s okay.’

  ‘Your wish is my command,’ he said, giving a little bow, which Emily thought must have been a deliberate attempt to lighten her mood.

  She smiled in response, and added the crackers to the platter.

  A few moments later there was a nudge at her leg and she looked down to find Grace gazing up at her with a cocked head and a pleading expression.

  ‘Ah, dinner time, is it, darling girl?’ You could almost set the clock by the dog, she thought with amusement as she put the completed platter onto the table.

  ‘Tuck in, everyone,’ she said. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’

  She then gave the dog a quick pat before going to the fridge for the raw lamb bone she’d bought to keep her amused for the evening. She was just pouring Grace’s dry food into the bowl behind the table when Enid cried out.

  ‘You’re not having that filthy creature eat where we are, surely?! It’s disgusting! And what’s it doing inside, anyway?’

  So it had started. Not fifteen minutes had passed and her mother was already picking on her. Even the presence of a stranger hadn’t been enough to prevent an outburst.

  ‘She’s an inside dog, Mum. It’s her home as much as mine.’ And she’s more welcome here than you are at this point in time.

  ‘Enid, it’s Emily’s house, and if she chooses to keep a dog inside then I think that’s her choice.’

  ‘Thanks Dad,’ Emily muttered as she patted Grace, who was tucking heartily into her bone, clearly oblivious to the tension around her.

  ‘Well, it’s not hygienic,’ Enid huffed, and sat back with her arms folded.

  ‘Mum, she gets bathed every week, and the floor gets mopped regularly, and …’ Emily stopped herself, wondering why she should have to defend herself in her own home. If Jake wasn’t here, she’d have given Enid a piece of her mind.

  But who was she kidding? She’d spent her whole life kowtowing to her mother and then internally seething for days, weeks.

  ‘I can attest to Grace’s cleanliness,’ Jake piped up in the tense lull that ensued. ‘We shared a cuddle in my bed this morning.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me you’d been unfaithful, darling,’ Elizabeth whined.

  Just what the hell is she playing at? Emily silently cursed, as she opened the oven to check the meat. At least Jake had the decency to look confused.

  ‘He must have snuck her in when I went to the bathroom, naughty boy.’

  Emily glanced, frowning, at the table and noticed a look of annoyance cross Jake’s face before disappearing just as quickly.

  ‘So, Jake. What brings you so far from home?’ Des asked, much to Emily’s relief.

  ‘Change of scenery. For a bit of photography, actually, Des.’

  ‘Uncle D, he’s the most talented photographer – you should see his shots.’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Maybe another time,’ Jake said quietly, fiddling with his glass of beer.

  ‘Ooh, so do you exhibit?’ Enid asked.

  Emily helped herself to some cheese while closing her eyes briefly and rolling them at the euphemism. She may as well have just said, ‘Are you famous? Are you worth being associated with?’

  ‘No, that’s not why I do it. I prefer …’

  ‘He’s too modest, Auntie E. He’s sold heaps …’

  ‘Only at the South Melbourne Market.’

  ‘Well, it’s only the best market in the whole of Melbourne,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘Oh, you must be very good,’ Enid cooed.

  Emily quietly seethed as she concentrated on her cheese and cracker. Just what was this Uncle D and Auntie E business? It was ridiculous, almost funny. She was thirty-four, for goodness sake!

  ‘It’s just a hobby, really – and part of my work as an …’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like a hobby if they’re selling so well,’ Enid cooed.

  ‘He’s really very talented. It’s only a matter of time before one of the big galleries picks him up.’

  ‘Well, I hope to get an invite to the opening when the time comes,’ Enid said.

  Out of the corner of her eye Emily noticed her mother give Jake’s hand a brief stroke. Oh, for God’s sake, get me a bucket, she thought, closing her eyes and shaking her head ever so slightly.

  ‘So what is it you do – other than the photography?’ her father asked.

  ‘I’m an architect. I run my own small firm.’

  Emily could almost hear the cogs turning in her mother’s brain as she tried to calculate his net worth.

  ‘Dad, Jake’s also a qualified builder,’ Emily said.

  ‘Really? That must put you in a better position than most architects.’

  ‘Yes, especially when the trades like to pretend you don’t know anything about getting your hands dirty. I’ve had a couple of fun times trotting out that revelation.’

  ‘I’ll bet. Did Em tell you we’ve just done a bit of work here? She’s a dab hand with the tools – sanded all the floors herself, you know.’

  Now it was Emily’s turn to blush slightly as she got up to take the meat out of the oven and put the bread rolls in.

  ‘No, she didn’t tell me any of that,’ Jake said, giving Emily a lingering look – of what, Emily wasn’t sure.

  She felt her face getting warmer as she placed foil
over the meat and set it to rest. All that slaving over a hot stove, she told herself.

  ‘This really is lovely cheese, Emily,’ Jake said, smiling at her.

  ‘Mmm, lovely,’ Des agreed. There were a couple of other noncommittal murmurs.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So how long are we to have your lovely company, Jake?’ Enid asked, putting her half-eaten cheese and cracker down on her bread plate and looking expectantly at him.

  ‘We’re heading back Tuesday morning,’ Elizabeth said, driving the knife into the block of cheese.

  Hang on. Tuesday is only the day after next. Why so soon? Emily stared at her cousin’s roughly cut lump of cheese and thought she knew how it felt.

  ‘I have to get back,’ Elizabeth shrugged, as if it was all the explanation needed.

  Why hadn’t Jake mentioned it when the two of them had been chatting yesterday? The prospect of suddenly being alone in the house again filled Emily with dread.

  She forced herself to calm down and concentrate on pulling off a good meal. She’d been doing fine prior to their arrival, and she’d be fine after their departure. Yes, it would be good for things to get back to normal. The distraction of guests had been fun, but she really did have to knuckle down and find a job, or at least work out some other plan for her future.

  ‘I’d offer more cheese, but we have roast, and then lemon pudding and ice-cream for dessert,’ she said, getting up and collecting the decimated cheese platter from the table.

  Emily tried to suggest they leave the dishes for the morning, but Jake’s insistence had been stronger. Elizabeth didn’t exactly heartily agree, but stayed to lend a hand nonetheless. The cynic in Emily wondered if it was more to do with not leaving Jake unattended than pulling her weight on the domestic front.

  Lying in bed later, Emily scrutinised the evening with her exhausted mind. Just what was the story with Jake and Elizabeth? Maybe they were an item, despite Elizabeth saying otherwise. They could be what people called ‘friends with benefits’. But really, why did she care, anyway? It had nothing to do with her. She’d had enough of men and their games.

  Speaking of which, the latest talk around town was that Stacy had left John. Barbara had shared the news during their visit that afternoon. Emily let herself bask in the slight satisfaction that at least it wasn’t just her – another woman had left the almighty John Stratten. And with a slight smile upon her lips, she rolled over to get some sleep.

  It was only ten o’clock, and she could still hear the hum of the television, but she was exhausted from all the cooking and, more so, the emotional tension of being in the same room as her mother. She shouldn’t have bitten back over Grace, but it was too late now. Oh well, the food had been pretty good.

  She sat up slightly, struck by a sudden thought. Her mother had not passed one comment about how much better the house looked. Not even when the new golden-haired boy – Jake – had raved about its features. Enid had given a quiet harrumph, which only Emily had noticed because she’d been looking and waiting for some sort of response.

  That was probably the most annoying thing about her mother – the way she had of refusing to pass comment when proven wrong on something. She was so damn opinionated about nearly everything and everyone, but when proven wrong she’d remain silent, or pretend she hadn’t said anything at all. The woman really was wasted on domestic duties and community service – she should have been a criminal, a lawyer or an actress. Better yet, a politician!

  Emily was annoyed, but mostly with herself, for getting into a state that meant she’d now find it hard to get to sleep despite her tiredness. She turned over a couple of times before forcing herself to concentrate on the gentle rustling of trees outside, and remembering Granny Mayfair’s bedtime mantra: ‘Deal with it in the morning’.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Next morning, Emily was flicking through some old interior design and garden magazines at the kitchen table when Jake came in, followed by Grace. The dog really had taken a shine to him. Emily had stopped letting Grace on her bed at night because she kept disturbing her with bouts of snoring and startled barks in her sleep. But if Jake’s was willing to put up with it, good luck to him, she thought, smiling.

  ‘Have you had coffee?’ he asked. ‘And if not, would you like one?’

  ‘No. And yes, that would be lovely, thanks. I only got as far as boiling the kettle.’

  A few minutes later Jake put two mugs on the table and sat on the end, around the corner from Emily. ‘The house cooled down nicely overnight,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I’m probably going to freeze here come winter.’

  ‘Is there insulation in the roof?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Dad and David went up there and I’m sure they would have mentioned if there was.’

  ‘It might be worth putting some in, even though it’s a rental. It can make quite a difference and it’s not all that expensive.’

  ‘How “not all that expensive”?’

  ‘I’d say less than a grand, if you do it yourself – even for a place this big. And it’s not hard; you just have to make sure you don’t fall through the ceiling. It’s a pity we’re going tomorrow. I could have done it for you.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m sure Dad will help if I decide to do it. It’s just that my finances are all over the place at the moment, and I need to see where I am when things settle down a bit.’

  Emily felt embarrassed being so open with a mere acquaintance. She’d been raised to believe that discussing finances with strangers was terribly crass.

  ‘I know what you mean. Some things need to sort themselves out. Things will get easier, Em, you’ll see.’

  Emily looked at him. Just how much had Elizabeth told him about her circumstances? Her cousin chose that moment to enter.

  ‘What time do you call this?’ Jake teased.

  ‘Far too bloody early,’ Elizabeth said, frowning. ‘God knows how, but I think I’ve got a hangover.’

  Emily had mixed feelings about them leaving in twenty-four hours. Gran had had an old saying that guests were like fish – they should be off after three days. Before the Alzheimer’s, she’d had a perpetual line of visitors and never seemed to tire of the intrusion, though they were usually people just staying overnight on their way to somewhere else. Emily wondered how the hell she’d done it week after week, year after year.

  It struck her now that running a guesthouse wouldn’t be too dissimilar. How could she do that if she couldn’t cope with having her cousin stay? She couldn’t use the excuse that Elizabeth, in particular, rubbed her up the wrong way, because her guests would come in all personalities, with all sorts of peculiar demands and – no doubt – complaints.

  No, Emily decided, she really would be rethinking the idea of a B&B – if she ever had the means to go down that path. But it didn’t hurt to dream, now did it? Certainly not, she thought, returning to the magazine in front of her.

  She let out a small gasp when she turned the page – the sight before her was spectacular: a modern lounge room decorated in the rich red and gold of a past era of opulence. Two coffee bean-coloured studded leather chesterfields faced each other. A magnificent trunk – in leather or painted timber, she couldn’t tell which – sat between them, a Persian prayer rug laid on top as a table cloth. Her mouth was practically watering as she tore the doublepage spread out.

  ‘What is it?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Oh, I’m just collecting ideas in case I ever get to own this place and do it up. You know, when money’s no object,’ she said wistfully. ‘I love this look,’ she added, turning the pages towards him. ‘Just feeding my delusions, really,’ she added with a laugh.

  ‘Hey, it’s important to have dreams to strive for – it’s what keeps us going.’

  Elizabeth sat down across from Emily with a mug of steaming milky coffee. ‘I love those ottomans,’ she said, pointing at the picture laid out in front of Jake. ‘I saw some in a shop selling Moroccan imports the other week. The
y were hundreds of dollars. Couldn’t believe it.’

  ‘Wow, why so expensive?’

  ‘Well, the ones I saw were leather. But they were only stuffed with rags. For that price I’d want gold or silver coins, or something.’

  ‘I suppose you prefer a more modern look, Jake?’ Emily said. ‘Given you’re an architect.’ She was mesmerised by his long fingers tapping against the side of his mug.

  ‘Actually, I love the imperial look. There’s not a large, white, shiny Italianate tile to be seen at my place – not that it’s anything as grand as this. Remember, I’m an architect who specialises in old-world charm.’ He grinned. ‘I’m minimalist only in that I’m not a fan of clutter. Also, I have a slow and steady approach to decorating, so …’

  ‘That’s code for “haven’t got around to it yet”,’ Elizabeth cut in.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Jake said, looking sharply at her. ‘It means I like to slowly gather things that mean something to me. I prefer to wait until I find something that insists I buy it, rather than just filling the space as quickly as I can,’ he explained to Emily.

  ‘Unlike me, you mean?’ Elizabeth shot back.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘But it’s what you meant.’

  ‘We’re all allowed our differences, Liz. Don’t be so damn prickly. You like to shop and buy, I like to spend ages browsing,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I tend to suffer buyer’s remorse if I jump in too quickly,’ he added by way of explanation to Emily.

  ‘I’m starving; what’s for breakfast?’ Elizabeth said, obviously keen to change the subject.

  Emily moved to get up. ‘I was thinking of doing bacon and eggs.’

  ‘Great! That’s exactly what my stomach’s craving,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘Yum,’ Jake said. ‘But I’m doing the cooking – if that’s all right with you, Em. You’ve been waiting on us hand and foot since we got here.’

  Again Emily enjoyed the way her abbreviated name rolled off his tongue. ‘I really don’t mind,’ she said, smiling warmly at him.

  ‘Good, just point me in the direction of the frypan, then.’

  ‘I mean, I don’t mind doing the cooking,’ Emily protested. ‘You’re guests.’