Time Will Tell

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Ah, this looks like bills to be paid,’ Barbara said, picking up a pile and flicking through it.

  ‘Do I bundle them up for Thora and Gerald to pay? Oh shit, I can’t do that; they think we were still together. I suppose that means they’re my responsibility. Jesus.’ She put out her hand to Barbara, who handed them over with a grimace.

  ‘Maybe you can wait until after you’ve told them. When things have calmed down a bit.’

  Sure. Hi Thora, forgot to tell you that John and I had separated before he died. And by the way, he left a few bills for you to pay.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Emily said when she saw the figure on the first invoice. She sat down on the bed on top of another pile of papers and went through every page.

  ‘There’s tens of thousands’ worth here. And some of them are on final notice,’ she said. ‘How could he have let things get this bad?’ Again the question of whether John’s death had been an accident flickered in her mind. ‘I’ll just have to pay them, I suppose – and quickly by the looks of it.’ Emily frowned. How am I going to pay them when I’m not a signatory to his accounts? Hmm, tricky.

  She remembered how humiliated she’d been the day she’d gone into the bank to change her address details on her personal accounts. The teller had informed her – in front of half a dozen waiting customers – that John had cut off her access to their joint accounts. She’d wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, and had been too ashamed to set foot in the place since.

  But it looked like she probably would at least have to go in and discuss all this with someone in there. And she wondered how sympathetic Nathan Lucas would be. Oh God, can it get any worse?

  Emily checked her watch and was surprised to find it was already a quarter to three. They had to get to the post office by five. She looked back to the task before her and felt overwhelmed.

  ‘Perhaps I should go through all this paperwork on my own – it might take days,’ Emily said.

  ‘I’m not leaving you to do it on your own. We either start now, or come back tomorrow. Personally I’d rather knock it over now, but it’s entirely up to you,’ Barbara said.

  ‘Thanks Barb, I really appreciate your help, but I just can’t see where to start and my brain feels completely fried. To be honest, I’d forgotten there was even an office to go through. If I’d known it was going to be this bad I never would have agreed to do it.’

  ‘Well, let’s at least have a quick look and get an idea of how much there really is to do. If he’s kept absolutely everything, it might be a matter of just chucking most of it out,’ Barbara said. She sat down at the desk and pulled some blank paper from the stash in the ink jet printer. Next she began rifling through the desk drawers.

  Emily looked around at the work ahead of them. I guess I’ll have to get everything together for his final tax return as well.

  ‘I reckon stack the papers, keeping them in their bundles, so we have some space to work with. I’ll do some labels to make sorting easier. Doesn’t he have any bloody marker pens?!’ With a loud bang, Barbara shut the first of the three drawers at the side of the old pedestal desk and opened the next one down.

  ‘He did have, because I bought them – they probably ended up in the shed.’ Emily sat down on the bed and began gathering the various piles and laying them on top of each other in a criss-cross pattern.

  ‘That’s better,’ she said when she’d finished and the bed was tidy except for one thick stack of papers. It was amazing how much more doable things could seem by just starting with one simple task. ‘Did you find a marker?’

  She waited a few moments.

  ‘Barb?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The marker pen; for writing the labels – did you find one?’

  ‘No, but I found this,’ Barbara said. She swivelled the office chair around to face Emily. She held out a stapled, crisp unfolded wad of paper and a business envelope.

  Emily accepted the items with a frown.

  ‘It was already open,’ Barbara added.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ Barbara swivelled back to face the desk and continued going through the drawer.

  Emily stared at the typing on the envelope: LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF JOHN EDWARD STRATTEN.

  She remembered the day they’d visited the Strattens’ family solicitors in Adelaide on the way back from their honeymoon on Great Keppel Island. They had made the wills deliberately simple. Neither document listed any items, just a general statement that everything was to be left to the other person. But that was over three and a half years ago. So much had changed since then.

  When she had walked away from her marriage, changing her will had been the last thing on Emily’s mind. Of course it had to happen sooner or later, but there were many more pressing things to deal with: like finding somewhere to live.

  Was this really John’s last will and testament? And why was it out of its envelope?

  When they had arrived home, John had put both wills in the desk drawer, sealed. She had promptly forgotten all about them.

  Again the circumstances of his death niggled at Emily. Could it have been suicide? She tried to force the question aside. There was no point wondering, because it could never be proven. As Barbara had said, if the police – or attending CFS or SES or anyone else – suspected anything, something would have been said and the whole town would be talking about it. So stop it, Emily, you’re just being melodramatic!

  ‘I wonder if this is really his last will and testament,’ she said aloud.

  ‘No idea, but yours is here too – still sealed. So, are you rich?’

  Emily’s head began to swim as she tried to grasp the consequences.

  We were separated. And had signed off on the financials. Surely that changes everything. But what if…?

  She’d heard of people inheriting nothing but debt. Her heart began to race and her armpits became sticky. She’d have no idea of the true situation until all the bills were paid and paperwork sorted through. And God only knew what other bills were lurking in the mailbox or still on their way.

  ‘I doubt it; probably in debt to the hilt more like,’ Emily said, finally answering Barbara, who had turned back around and was looking at her with patient expectation.

  Barbara offered her friend a sympathetic smile but stayed silent.

  ‘Jesus, what a mess,’ Emily said, rubbing a hand across her face. ‘This could change everything. Before it looked like just a matter of paying the bills and handing over the paperwork. Now it seems I’m going to have to properly tidy everything up. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.’

  ‘Do you think you should advise the solicitors of his death?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure Thora said she was taking care of that, along with the death certificate and the funeral. Well, looks like I’ll be back out here all day again tomorrow.’

  ‘You mean we’ll be back out here all day again tomorrow,’ Barbara said.

  ‘I can do it; I’ve burdened you enough.’

  ‘Emily, I wouldn’t dream of leaving you to do it on your own. And together we’ll get it done in half the time. Then maybe we’ll make the pub for a late lunch as our reward.’

  ‘Okay, but it will be my shout – it’s the least I can do. You’re the best,’ she added, getting up and giving her friend a hug.

  Barbara shrugged her off after a few moments. ‘I keep telling you, it’s not a problem – it’s what friends do for each other. And as I also keep saying; I know you’d do the same for me if our situations were reversed.’

  ‘Well, I really do appreciate it.’

  ‘I know you do. Now let’s finish packing up the other stuff so we only have this to deal with tomorrow.’

  ‘Actually, if I stick all this paperwork in a box I can sort through it at home. It’ll save us coming back.’

  ‘But you’re exhausted.’

  ‘I’ll feel better after a nice hot shower. And there’s nothing worth wa
tching on TV at the moment.’

  ‘Well if you’re sure.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Shit, we’d better get cracking if we’re going to get the bag of clothes to the post office before it shuts,’ Barbara said, getting up. ‘Thank goodness I packed the ute as we went,’ she added.

  They turned off lights and closed doors as they threaded their way back to the kitchen. Emily put their handbags in the top of the box of paperwork, Barbara grabbed the last esky, and they left, sliding the glass door shut behind them. Emily hated leaving the house unlocked, but she didn’t have a key.

  As she walked down the path, she felt a heavy sadness descend. It wasn’t dissimilar to how she’d felt the day she’d left John and her marriage. Though today she was a lot calmer and there was no need for urgency.

  It was as if she felt sad for the house being left all alone. Ridiculous, she told herself, and hurried to catch up with Barbara, who had already put the esky in the back of the ute, strapped it down, and was getting into the vehicle.

  Emily sat with the large box of paperwork at her feet. She wasn’t looking forward to the hours it would take her to sort out everything, but it had to be done. She still couldn’t believe John hadn’t told his parents they’d separated.

  They drove in silence, Barbara concentrating on getting them into town as quickly as possible whilst carefully negotiating the gravel road.

  Emily stared out the window, not really seeing the blurred scenery rushing by, as questions fired back and forth in her brain: Why had his will been opened? When had he opened it? Was there a more recent will? And if not – if she was still his sole beneficiary – what exactly had she inherited?

  And why the hell hadn’t he told his parents? Was it because he thought they’d get back together?

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Back at home, Emily sat on the hard lounge-room floor with the unpacked piles of paperwork fanned out around her. The boxes of crystal and other household items she’d brought back from the farm would have to wait; right now she was desperate to know where John’s finances stood.

  Grace lay with her head on her paws, watching her. The little border collie had been really excited to see her mistress after being confined alone in the yard all day, but when she’d tried to curl up close to her, Emily had scolded her for upsetting the papers and pushed her away. The dog had been sulking ever since.

  Despite having apologised instantly and profusely, Emily felt dreadfully guilty every time she looked at her.

  She’d overreacted; she was tired and frustrated at having John back in her life again. She stared at the paperwork, trying to figure out where to begin, her eyes and brain refusing to focus. Maybe Barbara was right; she shouldn’t be doing this tonight.

  She was still staring at the blurred patches of white on the floor when her mobile skittered and began to ring. Her parents’ home number was on the screen. It had to be her mother because it was the night her father would be at a Lions Club meeting.

  That’s all I need. She sighed, took a deep breath, and pressed the green button to accept the call.

  ‘Hello, Emily speaking.’

  ‘You sound tired,’ Enid said. ‘I didn’t get you out of bed; you’re not sick are you, only it is very early…’

  ‘Hi Mum, no.’

  ‘No, what Emily?’

  ‘No to all of the above – not in bed, not sick, just tired after a very long day.’ As the words came out of her mouth, Emily wished they hadn’t. Infuriatingly, it turned out this was one of the rare times Enid was actually listening to every word her daughter said.

  ‘Oh, why is that? You’re a lady of leisure; what could you have possibly been doing that has you exhausted? Not climbing up ladders working on that dreadful old house I hope!’

  ‘No.’ Emily quickly racked her brain for something to say that wouldn’t sink her into an abyss of further questioning. She really didn’t want to talk about John, but she had to say something.

  ‘Just weary. There’s a lot to organise and think through for the subdivision.’ Well it was sort of true. She’d heard from the surveyor. She couldn’t believe they would be there Saturday – New Year’s Day. She’d queried it, but was told it was either that or in around three months’ time. Thank goodness for knowing people who knew people. So the ball was well and truly in motion. She was still plagued with doubts about whether she was doing the right thing, but she told herself that the surveyor actually being available at that time of year was a good sign.

  ‘Surely you’re not seriously going ahead with all that nonsense. There’s no point in…’

  While she half listened to her mother offering all the reasons why she shouldn’t buy the house and do it up, Emily found herself indulging in a little guilty glee over doing something entirely off her own bat and of which her mother so clearly disapproved.

  It still hurt her terribly not to have her mother’s support, but accepting it was just the way she was helped. As did becoming closer to her father in recent times, and seeing that Des didn’t always share Enid’s viewpoint. For the longest time she’d assumed they were of one voice.

  She’d only recently discovered – now that she was seeing more of Des away from his wife’s shadow – that he actually had a really healthy, positive outlook on life, in contrast to Enid’s glass-halfempty attitude.

  ‘Are you there Emily?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here.’ Emily forced her attention back to the present and her mother’s voice in her ear. What she said next surprised even her. ‘Thank you, Mother. Your objection is duly noted, but as it is my money and my life, it is my decision. And I have chosen to go ahead with my original plan. Was there anything else or did you just phone to remind me of your lack of support?’

  ‘Oh well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ Enid blustered. ‘I just need to know you’ve thought all this through. Buying a house is a very big responsibility, you know.’

  Emily had to bite into her cheek hard enough to wince to stop the retaliation bursting forth in a torrent.

  ‘I know,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Now, was there anything else?’

  ‘Well, about your birthday dinner tomorrow night – would you like roast chicken, lamb, or pork?’

  Oh shit! I completely forgot! Emily suddenly felt that she didn’t want to do what she did every year – birthday and New Year’s Eve dinner at her parents’ house. Too much had changed.

  ‘Um, I can’t do dinner tomorrow night. I’m sorry; I should have told you sooner. I’ve had so much to think about that I totally forgot.’

  ‘But we always have dinner for your birthday. You’re deliberately being difficult because I disagree with your silly plans to buy that dreadful rundown old house. Now come on, Emily, this really is very childish.’

  ‘I could make it for lunch,’ Emily offered. I said I’d have lunch with Barbara. Fingers crossed she’s busy. ‘But I have other plans for the evening.’

  That was her first outright lie. Actually, for the first time in years, she had no firm plans for New Year’s Eve. Usually she and John ate dinner with her parents and then headed out to the local pub where there was a DJ or live band. Invariably John wrote himself off with his mates and became even more belligerent than usual while Emily had to watch on, waiting until he was ready to go home – usually in the vicinity of 4:00 a.m.

  Each year she would stand, or sit, unable to hear herself think, let alone speak to anyone else, and shake her head wondering at what point he would grow out this ridiculously juvenile behaviour. They were over thirty for goodness sake! She’d bite her tongue lest she get branded a ‘party pooper’, ‘stick in the mud’, or be labelled with some more colourful alcohol-induced epithet. She certainly wouldn’t miss that this year.

  Would it be too weird to spend New Year’s Eve alone in front of the television watching the fireworks? God, that would mean she had joined the ranks of her parents and their generation! Emily returned her attention to her mother’s voice on the othe
r end of the phone.

  ‘Oh, with that lovely Nathan Lucas I hope. Or perhaps Jake? Such a pity I wasn’t able to make Christmas lunch and see him again.’

  ‘No. Not Nathan and not Jake.’

  ‘Well, who with then?’

  It was at the tip of her tongue to say, ‘None of your damned business,’ but instead she said, ‘Barbara and David Burton, actually.’ Emily hated lying, especially when it meant implicating someone else; it usually ended badly. She didn’t know what Barbara and David were doing, and supposed they must have been invited to the home of someone she wasn’t friendly with. They probably hadn’t wanted to embarrass her by mentioning it.

  But if she rang Barbara as soon as her mother hung up she might just get away with this one. There was every chance Enid would phone Barbara and try to get her to change her plans – or at least have them join forces.

  ‘But you said you had forgotten.’

  Oops! Emily suddenly had a burning need to not have her mother win on this. I forgot to tell you I wasn’t coming. Not that it was my birthday.

  ‘Mum it’s my birthday, and I’d like to have dinner with my friends. As I said, I can come down for lunch.’

  ‘Well, I have other plans for lunch as it happens, and I really don’t like to muck people around by…’

  ‘We don’t have to do anything.’ I’d actually prefer it. ‘I’ve had plenty of birthdays already and I’m sure I’ve got plenty more to come.’

  ‘Well if that’s what you’d prefer,’ Enid said with a huff, clearly miffed.

  ‘It is. And if there’s nothing else, I’ve…’ Emily was about to say, ‘I’ve got a heap of paperwork to sort through,’ but just stopped herself in time. Any elaboration was bound to elicit further enquiry. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Right, well then.’ Emily could almost hear the unspoken words, ‘If that’s the way you want to be,’ hanging in the silence.

  ‘Okay, bye then, see you soon,’ she said brightly, and then pressed the button to end the call. She rolled her eyes at Grace, who looked as bored with the conversation as she had been.

  Emily sat for a few moments feeling the frustration coursing through her. But she had stood up for herself again, and she was quietly pleased with having done that.