Life Support: Escape to the Country

by Nicki Edwards

  Andrew moved a pile of papers aside and opened a manila folder. Another ream of papers was neatly stacked inside, held together by a large paperclip. He ran his finger around the perfectly aligned edges. Judging by his mannerisms, Emma could understand what Lleyton had seen in Andrew. They were a lot alike.

  By contrast, Emma was messy and disorganized which had driven Lleyton mad. When she’d first moved in, Lleyton said he didn’t care how untidy she was, as long as he didn’t have to look at her mess. “A place for everything and everything in its place” was his motto – a motto that for the most part she tried to adhere to. But it didn’t matter that she had a walk-in robe bigger than most people’s bedroom, her clothes always ended up strewn across the floor. Lleyton lined up his business shirts in order of color, and shelved his shoes beneath the shirts in opaque plastic boxes. Labeled opaque plastic boxes. She vaguely wondered what Andrew’s wardrobe looked like. No doubt, he brought much-desired order and structure into their relationship.

  “The insurance policy was worth five million dollars,” Andrew said softly, interrupting her wandering thoughts.

  Emma let her breath out in a rush. “Whoa. That’s a lot of money. Far more than I expected.”

  “You get the car too.”

  She nodded. She’d expected that.

  “He gave me that car for my birthday.”

  The car was the massive white Mercedes SUV she hated driving because it was too big to fit between the white lines of the supermarket car park. Lleyton had called it the “king of the jungle” when he’d proudly presented her with the keys and told her it was the safest vehicle on the road. He’d driven a brand new black Audi sports car himself, which in hindsight had not been the best or safest option given the police had to unwrap what was left of it from around the gum tree in the mountains. She shuddered, glad she’d never seen any evidence of the accident scene.

  Andrew shuffled more papers without looking at her. “There’s also a house.”

  “What do you mean? The house belongs to Win and Mary-Margaret.”

  Andrew opened the front page of another document in front of him and smoothed his hand across imaginary wrinkles in the paper. “I’m not talking about the house in Kew.”

  “What house are you talking about?”

  Andrew coughed nervously once behind a closed fist. She wanted to tell him to spit it out, but could tell he wasn’t a man who liked to be rushed.

  “A property called Lexton Downs.”

  Emma frowned. “Where is it?”

  He rubbed at his wrist again. “New South Wales.”

  She tucked her hair behind her right ear and stared at him. “Where in New South Wales? On the coast? Is it a holiday house?”

  “Er, no, not a holiday house. It’s marginally larger than a holiday house.” Andrew rubbed his chin.

  Emma sat back in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. “So where is it? And why do I know nothing about it?”

  “It’s near a town called Birrangulla.”

  “What?” She uncrossed her legs and scooted forward on the edge of the chair.

  “It’s a regional town in central New South Wales west of Sydney. Near Orange.”

  “I know where it is. I grew up there.”

  Now it was Andrew’s turn to look surprised. “I didn’t know that.” His brows knit together. “I always wondered what made Lleyton choose a house in the middle of nowhere.” He leaned over and opened the top drawer of his desk. Pulling out a set of keys, he laid them on the papers in front of him. “Emma, Lleyton has left you a three-hundred-hectare heritage listed property.”

  Emma burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be joking. A farm? He’s left me a farm?”

  “It’s more than a farm. According to the report from the real estate agent, it’s a substantial property. It comes complete with an 1860s bluestone homestead, a gatekeeper’s cottage and another one-bedroom cottage behind the stables. The homestead was in a terrible state of disrepair when Lleyton bought it a couple of years ago. He paid a builder to restore it to its original state. From what I understand, the renovations are almost finished. There’s a full-time farm manager and a caretaker employed to keep the property operational.”

  Emma’s mind swam with all this information. Lleyton had bought a property and she knew nothing about it? How many more secrets had he taken with him to the grave?

  “Substantial?” she repeated, quoting Andrew. “What does that even mean? And why did he leave it to me? I know nothing about farms. Besides, I can’t move back to Birrangulla. Melbourne is my home now. My job is here. My friends are here. I don’t want, and nor do I need, some farmhouse in the country.”

  Andrew nudged the keys closer to her and gave her a small smile. “I’ve seen the photos. You’ll want this house.”

  Emma had heard enough. She pushed her chair back from the desk. “So from the grave he still speaks and I have to keep his secrets,” she muttered. “It’s so unfair.” She banged her hand on the desk. Andrew looked up, startled.

  The sharp sting of tears surprised her. She hadn’t cried properly since the funeral and the last place she wanted to cry was in her husband’s lover’s office.

  “I’m sorry,” Andrew said softly.

  “It’s not your fault,” she replied, “but you have to admit, this is crazy. I was the one who asked for a divorce. Surely Lleyton would have wanted the will to be changed, but he died before he had a chance. It hardly seems fair that I should take the house. The insurance money will be more than enough for me to buy a nice place here in Melbourne and invest the rest. Then I can start my life again.”

  Andrew spun in his chair and stared out across the overcast skies that formed the backdrop of the city skyline. She followed his gaze.

  Finally she spoke to his back. “I don’t get it, Andrew. Why did Lleyton buy a farm in Birrangulla? He hated it up there. The only times he ever went there after he finished university was to visit my parents. And that was only when I dragged him.”

  Andrew swiveled in his chair to face her again. He loosened his tie and undid his top button, sliding his finger around the collar of his shirt. “It’s not easy for me to have to tell you this, but you know what Lleyton was like. He always acted on impulse. Last year he used part of his inheritance and bought Lexton Downs. He purchased it over the internet without ever seeing it, as a gift for you. I didn’t know anything about it until afterward.” Andrew’s eyes bored into hers. “Lleyton loved you, Emma, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his secret from you much longer. He wanted to be sure that he had properly looked after you when you went your separate ways, so he bought you a house. It was always yours regardless of what happened.”

  Understanding hit. “He was going to ask me for a divorce?” Emma asked in astonishment.

  Andrew found something fascinating in the wood grain of his desk. “Probably. Yes. One day. Soon,” he mumbled.

  Emma sank back in her chair and in stunned silence watched the clouds float past through the thick tinted glass window. In the distance a container ship was being tugged out through the channel and cars, as small as children’s toys, crossed each way on the Westgate Bridge. Outside, the world was still going on, but in this corner suite it felt like her life had just become gridlocked.

  “He was going to leave me for you, so he bought me a house,” she said finally, as the realization of three wasted years sank in. “Can I sell it?”

  “Yes of course you can, but believe me, once you’ve seen the property, you’ll be more than happy to move back to Birrangulla.”

  “Is there a catch?”

  “No. No catch.” Andrew fiddled with the knot of his tie again.

  She found that hard to believe. “But I was the one who asked for the divorce first. It doesn’t seem right to take it.”

  “It’s either you take it and live in it, or …”

  “Or what?” she prompted.

  Andrew’s Adam’s apple bobbed twice, fast. “Or Winston and Mary-M
argaret will try to take it from you.”

  Emma raised her eyebrows. “What? Why would they want a farm in Birrangulla?”

  Andrew sighed wearily. “When they see Lexton Downs, they’re going to want it. That’s why I said they can’t find out about you wanting a divorce or about Lleyton and me. If they ever find out, you’ll have one massive fight on your hands. I’ve known the family for a long time and they fight dirty.”

  Emma crossed and uncrossed her legs before planting both feet on the ground and leaning forward. “Where do I sign?” she asked, with a voice full of determination.

  With another small smile Andrew pushed the paperwork across the desk to her and indicated where to put her signature. She accepted the pen he handed her. There was no way she would let the Chirnside family beat her.

  “What about the divorce papers?” she asked.

  Andrew pulled open another drawer and withdrew a thin folder. It was labeled in neat handwriting “strictly confidential.”

  “This is the only hard copy of them. I’ve deleted everything from the computer system.” He stood, went across to the long credenza and opened a cupboard. Inside was a paper shredder. “Would you like to do the honors?”

  Emma looked at him with a new sense of appreciation. “Why are you doing this for me?”

  “Because I loved Lleyton too and I hated what his parents did to him. I hated that he felt he had to live his whole life shrouded in secrecy.”

  For the next few seconds the only noise was the shredding sound of paper being destroyed. When the room was silent they stared at one another in mutual agreement and understanding. Emma stood and gave Andrew an awkward hug.

  “Thank you Andrew. Thank you for everything. I’m sorry life turned out this way for you too.” She dragged the set of keys toward her, hoping she hadn’t scratched the surface of his desk. She placed them in her handbag and fixed it on her shoulder. “You’d better give me the address for this place. I’ll go and check it out. I can’t promise I’ll stay there forever, but I can promise you I’m never going to let Mary-Margaret get her hands on it.”

  Emma left Andrew’s office weighted down with a huge responsibility, and yet at the same time it felt like he’d removed a massive burden from her shoulders. She clutched the printed directions to Lexton Downs in her hand before folding them and stuffing them in her bag.

  First things first she needed to quit her job. Then she needed to pack. It was time to put away the memories of her short married life.

  Chapter 8

  Emma headed west, then turned north on the highway, knowing that if she didn’t stop, she could travel fourteen thousand kilometers and circumnavigate Australia on the same stretch of road. This time though, she was doing what she never expected to be doing – she was heading back to Birrangulla, taking the familiar highway out of Melbourne, through Victoria and across the border into central New South Wales. Home.

  In the ten short weeks since Lleyton’s funeral, everything had changed. She’d said her good-byes and walked away from their house, her job, her work colleagues and their few friends. Now, on this sunny first-day-of-spring day, she knew there was no turning back. She’d placed their furniture into storage until she decided what to do with it, and all she had with her were two massive suitcases packed with her clothes and half a dozen boxes of other bits and pieces she couldn’t part with.

  She exhaled. It didn’t matter whether she was having second thoughts about what she was doing, she had no choice but to keep going. With each passing kilometer doubt gnawed away at her insides and worry settled heavily on her shoulders. Was she doing the right thing? She hadn’t told anyone she was coming home, not even her mum and dad. What if Lexton Downs was nothing like Andrew had described? She’d have a house and plenty of money but no job and no plan B if everything failed.

  For the next hour, Emma drove through the outskirts of Melbourne, stopping and starting at traffic lights and negotiating road works and constantly changing speed limits. She passed endless new subdivisions filled with matching houses sitting side by side on postage-stamp-size blocks of land. When was the city going to stop spreading? She remembered a time when these new suburbs had been nothing more than open paddocks and farmland. As she drove, she reflected that it was funny how she was already thinking of Birrangulla as home again. She hadn’t lived there in three years and yet it felt as though an invisible thread connecting her to the place was pulling her back. The landscape eventually changed as flat green paddocks opened up on either side of the road. She inhaled deeply, edged the car faster and activated the cruise control.

  The further north she drove, the more the grief welled up within her. Since the accident and Lleyton’s death, she had barely stopped long enough to miss him or mourn his loss. The affair had changed everything, and although they were separated and had been living separate lives for six months, it didn’t make his death any easier.

  Lleyton’s death had permanently snapped the cord that had held them together for the last three years, but by agreeing to keep his house, she’d be connected to him forever. She wasn’t sure that was what she wanted. Maybe it would’ve been better to sever all the ties so she could move on without feeling like he was always in her life. She should have told Andrew to keep the house himself. At least told him she’d make a decision about it after she’d seen it first. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t wallow in self-pity. Her life hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned when she’d moved to Melbourne with Lleyton, but that didn’t mean she had to escape the city and return to the country with her tail between her legs. She could return, head held high.

  Wriggling in her seat, Emma tried to get into a more comfortable driving position. She had at least ten more hours of driving ahead of her.

  She remembered Andrew’s final words to her as she left his office.

  “Good luck, Emma. I think you might find you actually like it back in Birrangulla.”

  *

  Emma drove all day, stopping every few hours to stretch her legs. Finally she saw the turn off toward Cowra and took the familiar exit. It took her a few utes and four-wheel drives passing in the opposite direction before she remembered to raise her two fingers off the steering wheel in the friendly Aussie country salute. She chuckled. No doubt as they passed her, they mocked the blonde city chick in her “Toorak tractor” who didn’t know the country road rules. If only they knew that deep down she was a country girl, on her way back home.

  She was less than an hour out of Birrangulla now and the closer she got the more tense she became. The last leg of the journey always seemed to take the longest. Dusk began to settle, ready to change itself into night. She needed to get to Lexton Downs before the inky blackness took over. She knew the roads fairly well, but once nightfall came, she might as well be driving blind. She stared at the gathering shadows and switched her headlights on. Driving carefully, she kept an eye open for kangaroos – they loved nothing more than to play kamikaze with cars in the twilight.

  Fifteen minutes later, as the sun was setting amidst a pastel pink and orange palette in the western sky, Emma arrived in Birrangulla. She slowed down, keeping a close eye on the speed limit. The last thing she needed was a speeding fine. She drove slowly down the hill, noting the houses that extended in all directions. Encircled by mountains that formed a backdrop to the town, it felt larger than she remembered.

  She smiled as she drove down the familiar wide streets. She passed the antique shop that had been there as long as she could remember and drove past the art gallery which sat next to the modern performing arts center. Over the road were specialty shops. Their well-lit windows displayed the latest season’s fashions. Farther ahead was the best inland fish and chip shop in Australia, its flashing lights in stark contrast to the pretty fairy lights strung around the trees outside the Italian restaurant next door. Both places were calling her name and her stomach rumbled. She had survived on Diet Coke and M&M’s since lunchtime and was starving.

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nbsp; In the middle of the grassy park, the red brick war memorial stood tall and proud. On the other side of the road was the glass and concrete shopping center that boasted K-Mart and Coles. Emma kept driving, negotiating the familiar tree-lined streets until she was on the other side of town. Tendrils of smoke drifted lazily into the darkening sky and invaded her car. The days in the central west of New South Wales might be warm in September, but the nights were still cold and wood fires were a must. Emma inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the smell. She hoped Lexton Downs had an open fireplace. She drove past the large red cross that was illuminated on a white background – the Birrangulla Base Hospital. If she stayed, it would be the only place to work, as the private hospital didn’t have an emergency department.

  She came up to the turnoff to her parents’ house and by habit nearly turned left, before she spotted the signs for Sydney and kept driving. She had to go to Lexton Downs first and satisfy her curiosity.

  The road flattened out and dozens of century-old elm trees formed an archway across the road. She flicked her indicator on and gently swerved her Mercedes to the side of the road, glad no cars were following her. Her headlights lit the gnarled branches of the elms which had started to bud – tiny shoots of green that would later form a thick canopy of leaves in summer. She loved the look of these trees, though they held bittersweet memories for her and her family.

  Up ahead she caught sight of the small white cross set back off the road, surrounded by weeds and tall grasses. A faded dried flower arrangement hung loosely from the cross. Although the heater in the car kept the temperature at a comfortable twenty-one degrees, she shivered slightly, remembering the night a drunk driver had killed one of her best friends. Her grip was tight on the steering wheel and she forced herself to unclench her fists. Her brother’s first fiancée Rebecca had died after a tragic hit-and-run. It had taken Joel two years to get over his grief, with much of that time spent in an alcohol-induced fog that spiraled him deep into depression. The reason Emma usually avoided drinking alcohol.