Saving Grace

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Emily, to answer your question would be like trying to answer “how long’s a piece of string?”. If there’s someone who needs some specific advice, maybe if I get the job you can send them in …’

  ‘Not really, I was just being curious.’

  ‘You know what they say about curiosity?’ he said, grinning at her.

  ‘Indeed I do.’

  Touché, she thought, as she silently took the final spoonful of soup, then put her spoon down into her bowl as if driving the point home. Emily folded her arms and sat back to wait for everyone else to finish their soup. A few minutes later, Enid was up and collecting the empty bowls.

  One course down, just two more to go.

  Mrs Lucas got up to help and Mr Lucas lapsed into conversation with Emily’s father at the end of the table. She was having trouble even thinking of them as Bill and Nancy.

  ‘So are you living back here with your parents now you’re separated?’ Nathan asked as the silence between he and Emily stretched into awkward territory.

  ‘God, no! No, I’m renting an old farmhouse outside Wattle Creek.’

  ‘Are you wanting to buy then, hence the earlier badgering?’

  ‘I wasn’t badgering. It was a simple question. And yes and no; as much as I love the place and would like to own it, I don’t have the money, and the owners don’t want to sell, anyway.’

  ‘Ah.’

  They lapsed into silence again. A few moments later, Enid and Mrs Lucas brought out plates piled high with meat, three roasted veg, and peas.

  ‘This looks lovely, Enid,’ Nathan said, starting a rumble of agreement that went right around the table.

  Suck! Emily thought as she picked up her knife and fork. The evening was slowly turning into the stock standard Enid affair she had dreaded. Things had briefly looked up when she’d met Nathan and noticed the cheeky glint in his eye. Now they were all serious again.

  Why couldn’t she have just stuck to the so-where-in-Adelaide-do-you-live, what-sort-of-car-do-you-drive sort of questions, instead of ambushing him about work stuff? And why was she so bloody fixated on the subdivision, anyway?

  Emily speared a piece of crispy baked potato. Because I want that house and a few acres around it. Her shoulders slumped a little. Nothing but a pathetic pipedream. She dragged her knife through the tender pink roast lamb, and was then pleased to be distracted by her father waving a bottle of red wine.

  ‘Yes thanks, Dad,’ she said, putting down her knife and fork and handing over her empty wine glass.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Emily kept checking her watch, barely able to believe it was just past eight o’clock. If only her mother would hurry up and serve dessert. She could eat it and then, after a short but respectable interval, get in her car and go home. Ah, home.

  Despite its run-down state and how cold it would be in winter, and her sparse, daggy collection of pre-probably-not-even-loved furniture, it really did feel like home. Even the farmhouse she’d shared with John hadn’t given her the same feeling of emotional security. Weird, she thought, forcing her attention back to the chatter around her.

  ‘Oh no! I’m a complete idiot!’ Enid Oliphant screeched from the open fridge. She turned towards the table with her mouth frozen in an ‘O’, one hand covering it and another on her chest. Before anyone could ask the obvious question, she continued. ‘I’ve forgotten to get cream for the apple turnovers!’

  What’s she playing at? Emily wondered. Enid Oliphant never forgets anything.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Des said, pushing his chair back. ‘The shop on the corner will still be open.’

  ‘No, Des. Emily will be quicker. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Emily?’ Enid really was just too much. So good were the theatrics – or bad, depending on how you saw it – they were almost laughable.

  ‘No,’ Emily groaned, pushing her chair back and rolling her eyes at Nathan.

  ‘Nathan, why don’t you keep Emily company – it’s almost dark out,’ Mrs Lucas said, prodding her thirty-something son like a stage mother.

  ‘I’ll be okay,’ Emily said, thinking she’d be quite happy for a few minutes of peace.

  ‘Oh no, I doth insist on accompanying the lady,’ Nathan said, almost equalling Enid’s previous theatrics.

  ‘I’m driving. It’s only two minutes up the street.’

  ‘Oh, but your car is blocked in,’ Enid said, with a tone that sounded gleeful rather than apologetic. ‘And so is ours.’

  ‘So I’ll walk. It’ll take me twenty minutes, tops, and the fresh air will do me good.’

  ‘In that case, I’m definitely not letting you go alone. Can’t have you walking unescorted in the almost-dark,’ Nathan declared.

  ‘That’s enough from all of you. Come on, then. Just cream, Mum, or is there something else you need?’

  ‘No, that’s all, thank you. Get the thickest one you can find.’

  It had got quite chilly outside since she’d arrived, and Emily set out on a long stride in order to both warm up and get the mission over with.

  ‘Hey, slow down,’ Nathan said, breaking into a skip to catch up. ‘We’re on a romantic stroll, remember.’

  ‘Oh God, don’t you start! Can you believe the blatancy?! “Nathan, you’d better keep her company”,’ Emily said, doing a fine impersonation of his mother.

  ‘I don’t mind. It’s been a while since I was alone with an attractive, intelligent woman.’

  ‘Please don’t tell me that line has ever worked before,’ Emily said, returning her attention to the dark street underfoot.

  ‘No, actually.’ He laughed. ‘But I keep using it in the hope that some day it will. Call me optimistic. Anyway, you are.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You – you are attractive. And intelligent.’

  Emily sneered at him. ‘Flattery, flattery. Should we just stop for a quick romp in the park now the foreplay’s been covered?’

  ‘Hey, now, since when did you get so cynical that a bloke can’t even give you a compliment without you getting all prickly?’

  ‘When he’s only doing it because his mother told him to. For all I know, you’re involved with this ridiculous farce our mothers have cooked up.’

  ‘I certainly am not and I resent the suggestion,’ he said, folding his arms hard across his chest.

  They continued on in silence.

  ‘Sorry,’ Emily finally said. ‘I’m just so sick of everyone thinking they know what I need – like a replacement husband. It’s only been just over a month, for Christ’s sake! And anyway, the way I feel right now, I’m not sure I’ll ever want to get that involved with a man again.’

  ‘You obviously got badly hurt.’

  ‘Your powers of observation are incredible.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I mean it. But you shouldn’t let your past determine your future. Don’t let it stop you getting close to someone else down the track.’

  ‘Oh, like you, you mean?’

  ‘No, not necessarily me.’

  Emily breathed out. ‘So what’s your real story, anyway?’

  ‘Walking cliché, I’m afraid. Wife of seven years ran off with my best mate.’

  ‘How long ago did she leave?’

  ‘Just over twelve months – divorce papers signed last week.’

  ‘Kids?’

  ‘Nope. She told me she didn’t want them. But apparently only didn’t want them with me, because they now have one – a boy.’

  ‘Well, I’d be counting my lucky stars if I were you. At least this way you won’t have to hand over money for a kid you only see half the time, or exchange pleasantries at family functions with two people who put you through misery. Especially when you’re single and they’re the epitome of the happy family. Be cheered by the fact you don’t ever have to have anything to do with them ever again.’

  ‘God, you’re really bitter, aren’t you?’ he replied, frowning.

  ‘Anyway, you’re still young enough to find the woman of your dreams and have a sma
ll tribe. With a nice stable career as a bank manager I imagine you’d be considered quite a catch.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ he said with a shrug. ‘So, you said you realised you didn’t want kids with your husband.’

  ‘Yes. He turned out to be a nasty piece of work. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to look at someone who reminded me of him every day.’

  ‘So what did this guy do that was so horrible? He can’t have been that bad if you married him in the first place.’

  ‘Look, I’d really rather not talk about it – him.’

  ‘Okay. Sorry.’

  ‘That’s okay, no need to apologise.’

  They walked the last few hundred metres in silence until Emily said, ‘Here we are.’

  ‘The Corner Shop,’ Nathan said, reading the faded sandwich board out front. ‘Original.’

  Emily pushed the door open and the bell above it jangled. She grabbed a large plastic tub of cream from the fridge and put it on the counter while Nathan stood taking in the quaint surroundings of the old-fashioned shop.

  ‘See anything else you’d like?’ Emily prompted him while the lady behind the counter silently waited.

  ‘No thanks, I’m good.’

  Emily handed over her money, thanked the lady, and headed back across the scuffed dark floorboards to the door. Nathan rushed to open it for her.

  ‘Here, let me carry that for you,’ he said when they were outside, tugging at the pot of cream Emily had tucked under her arm while she was trying to shove the change back in her purse.

  ‘Thanks,’ Emily said, releasing it. ‘I should have asked for a bag.’

  They trudged back down the street in silence. It was dark now.

  ‘Hey, sorry about being so prickly before. I’m sure you’re probably a really nice guy. I’m just not interested.’

  ‘I am a really nice guy,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘No “probably” about it. But I get it – wrong time, wrong place. For the record, I do think you’re attractive and intelligent …’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘But I doubt we’d be compatible.’

  ‘Oh. Why’s that?’ Emily asked, feeling the tiniest stab of hurt.

  ‘What star sign are you?’

  ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘Come on, humour me. What are you?’

  ‘Capricorn. Why?’

  ‘As I suspected. I’m a Cancer. We wouldn’t work at all.’

  ‘Are you seriously into all that?’

  ‘I never used to be. There’s more to it than you think. Probably just too much time on my hands and looking for answers.’

  ‘And did you find any?’

  ‘Yes, actually. Kate and I would never have worked out in the end.’

  ‘That’s called hindsight, and it’s got nothing to do with star signs.’

  ‘Touché.’

  ‘Sorry, maybe that was a bit harsh. But you said you were married for seven years, so you can’t have been that incompatible.’

  ‘I think it probably only lasted that long because neither of us were willing to acknowledge that it wasn’t working. We kept things going for longer than we should have out of stubbornness – didn’t want to have to fess up to our parents and all that.’

  ‘Oh, I know what you mean.’

  ‘It’s a hard thing to admit when you’ve made a mistake. Especially when it’s a mistake as big as marrying the wrong person – or for the wrong reason.’

  ‘Sometimes I think I only got married to stop the withering looks of my mother and half the town. “Poor Emily, still unmarried at twenty-eight. Tut tut.”’

  ‘That isn’t old.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Unmarried and over twenty-three is considered left-on-the-shelf around here!’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘Well, I spent my high school years at boarding school and then stayed on in the city. But I’m hoping to reacquaint myself with the country way of life. The good bits, anyway.’

  ‘I really hope you get the job. But if you do, just remember that what is quaint and cosy one week can be stifling and oppressive the next.’

  ‘Are you telling me it’s not all brandy snaps and cream cakes?’ he said, bringing a hand to his throat.

  ‘No, it’s not!’ Emily said, giving him a half-hearted slap on the arm.

  ‘Well, luckily I’ll have you to keep an eye on me,’ he said, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her to him.

  Emily liked the closeness and his touch, but wasn’t sure what it meant. ‘It might not be wise to associate yourself with me too much,’ she said.

  ‘What have you done? Did you let out the secret CWA scone recipe or something?’

  ‘No.’ Emily giggled. ‘I’m being serious. Farmers are a protected species around here, and I left one. A divorce means I’ll get a settlement, which, no matter how small it is, means I am a gold-digger, and, therefore, the enemy.’

  ‘Well, the law is pretty clear when it comes to dividing up marital assets. I hope you get a decent payout, especially if he was horrible. It might teach him a lesson.’

  Emily considered telling him about her mistake – settling for a fraction of what she rightly deserved – but habit stopped her from talking about money matters with a stranger. Instead she said, ‘Unfortunately, John Stratten would never connect those two particular dots. I’m just the cow who left him and does not deserve a cent.’

  ‘Stratten. Why does that name ring a bell?’

  ‘They’re the biggest landholders in the district.’

  ‘Oh! Clever girl to choose so well.’

  ‘I wish. Look, I really don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather just move on.’

  ‘Fair enough. But if you ever need any help with banking or financial advice, let me know.’

  ‘And if you ever need help deciphering the weird ways of the country, let me know.’

  ‘Deal,’ Nathan said, pausing and holding out his hand. They shook on it before walking the last few steps to the front door of Emily’s parents’ house.

  ‘We should have dishevelled ourselves and given the mothers some hope,’ Nathan whispered as he held open the door for Emily to pass.

  With the door now closed behind them they were just in view of the dining table. Emily winked at Nathan before grabbing him and planting a firm kiss right on his lips.

  ‘Right, one large tub of thickened cream,’ Emily said, depositing it on the table and throwing herself into her chair.

  ‘Not on the table, Emily!’ Enid said, gathering the tub as if it was a ball of smelly socks. ‘Now let me get those turnovers.’

  The evening wrapped up quickly after dessert. The guests declined tea and coffee, and just a few minutes later, made their goodbyes.

  Emily stood at the door beside her parents as the Lucases left. She was slightly shocked, but not totally surprised, to be pulled into a loose embrace by Nathan.

  ‘This will get them talking,’ he whispered in her ear, before pulling her slightly closer and kissing her. He turned and followed his parents out. Emily noticed Enid exchange a satisfied expression with Mrs Lucas on the step outside.

  ‘Can I help with the dishes before I head off?’ Emily asked, hoping her offer would be declined, as usual. It was only nine o’clock but she was longing for the sanctuary of her new home and Grace’s comforting presence.

  ‘No, thank you. I’m going to leave them for the morning.’

  Enid Oliphant was the queen of the guilt trip. Emily knew all too well she wouldn’t leave dirty dishes in the sink until the morning, no matter what she said. But it was habit to shun an offer – even from her husband – and then stay up late rattling around so the kitchen would be spick and span in the morning. And then she’d invariably pass carefully worded comments the next day about how late she’d been up.

  Enid’s emotional blackmail had once really bothered Emily, but she was beginning to accept it as her mother’s martyr gene. Well, she was trying, anyway.

  ‘Okay then, I’ll g
et going,’ she said, retrieving her handbag from beside the front door.

  Des gave his daughter a big hug and said, ‘Thanks for coming, Em.’

  ‘Are you going to see that nice Nathan again?’ Enid asked.

  Out of sight of her mother, Emily gave a silent groan. ‘Maybe if he asks me, Mum,’ she said, turning back to Enid for an air kiss.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Emily had been so busy helping Barbara organise the food for her father-in-law’s wake that she forgot that Gran’s funeral had been the last she’d attended, less than two months ago.

  But when she sat down on the hard, shiny wooden pew and gazed around the whitewashed interior of the small stone church, it all came flooding back.

  Last time she’d had Liz on one side and John on the other. Now she was surrounded by people she knew reasonably well, but who were not her friends. Barbara and David sat two pews ahead in the space set aside for immediate family. Emily focussed on the backs of their heads, thinking she couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so alone.

  As the organist began to play The Lord is my Shepherd, Emily began to quietly sob. All the dabbing she did with her fistful of tissues did nothing to stem the flow.

  Oh Gran, I miss you so much. My life’s a mess – where are you now when I need you?

  Emily watched through swimming eyes as David delivered his eulogy, but didn’t take in any of his words. She was trying to remember Granny Mayfair – the details, the words of wisdom she’d had for every occasion. What would she say to Emily now?

  Would she have approved of her leaving John, or would she have encouraged her to stay and work it out? It was impossible to know. On the one hand, Gran had advocated that life was too short to be miserable, but on the other she said things should be seen through to the end, no matter how difficult.

  Well, it really was too late now. She’d made her decision, she had to live with it. No regrets. It wasn’t like John had shown any sign of distress, except over not having her there to pack meat away in the freezer.

  The tears subsided and Emily settled back against the high, hard back of the pew, and dabbed her eyes with the dry wad of tissues in her other hand.