Time Will Tell (32 page)

She's managed to speak to a solicitor on a public holiday weekend? On the New Year public holiday weekend? Seriously!?

Tara was now smirking. ‘So do you think I can come in now?'

Stunned, Emily reluctantly stepped aside. As she followed her down the hall, she noticed Tara appraising the house as she went, just like last time. She wanted to tell her to stop it; it was rude.

Emily motioned for her to sit and took her own seat. There was no way she was going to offer her tea or coffee. She'd hear her out, though. Maybe Tara would still sell her the house.

‘You've really made yourself at home since I was here last,' Tara said, looking around the room and taking in the crystal glinting behind the glass cupboard doors. The slight sneer to her mouth told Emily the words, ‘I don't see why' weren't far from her lips.

‘Yes, I love the house. As did your cousins,' she added, but not sure really why she'd felt the need.

‘If it meant that much they would have been living here themselves, or at least not let it get into such a dilapidated state.'

Two fair points, Emily had to concede. ‘So are you planning to live here yourself?' she asked.

‘God no! Not nearly salubrious enough for me! No, I'm going to put the farm up for sale – in its entirety.'

Emily felt her dream collapsing like a house of cards in front of her. It wasn't fair; just when everything was finally starting to go right again.

Grace chose that moment to let out a loud yawn. Tara glared at the dog with undisguised loathing. Emily wanted to throw her out right then and there, but it seemed
she
was the trespasser now.

Should she be getting a solicitor's opinion of her own? Probably, but she didn't know one she could just call, especially on a long weekend.

‘But what's your objection to me having the house and twenty acres?'

‘No objection,' Tara said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘You can take it up with the new owners in due course.'

Emily could see there was no point trying to reason – she'd clearly made up her mind.

‘You'll need to be out by Friday – Saturday morning at the absolute latest.'

Four days!? Oh Christ!
‘And if I'm not?'

‘And if you're not, I'll have the police arrest you for trespass, squatting, whatever,' Tara said with a dismissive wave. ‘I'm sure the folks of Wattle Creek would love to see you paraded through in handcuffs.'

‘But I don't understand. If you're selling the place, why can't I just stay until the new owners make a decision? It might take ages to sell. I'm still paying rent.'

‘Do you really want to know?' Tara got a strange look on her face.

No.
‘Yes.'

‘Because I don't like you.'

And there it was. Emily stood there opening and shutting her mouth like a goldfish feeding.
You're throwing me out because you don't like me?

‘Well, I'd better keep going – see you,' Tara said brightly, leaving the room. ‘No need to see me out; I can find my own way.'

Emily shuddered as the front door slammed. She waited until she heard the car leave before making her way down the hall to her bedroom and throwing herself on the bed.

She rolled over and stared at the button jar. She itched to pick it up, ask it to give her some advice. But she resisted the urge.

What advice was there? ‘Suck it up, princess, the dream is over?' Not quite one of Gran's quotes, but it was about right. She almost snorted. All of these quotes and relying on the universe to make everything all right was a load of crap. Look where it had got her. She was back almost exactly where she'd started.

Bloody Barbara and Jake and their bloody advice! Grace hopped onto the bed, lay down beside her, and pushed her head under Emily's chin. It was as if the dog was saying, ‘It's okay, Mum. We'll be okay.' Emily wanted to cry, release some of the tension and helplessness she was feeling. But there were no tears, not even a lump forming in her throat. Instead her mind started trying to cut a path through all the debris.

Jesus. What am I meant to do now?

She considered phoning Barbara, but the thought was fleeting. It was up to Barbara to make the first move to repair their friendship. And anyway, she wasn't sure she could bear Barbara saying, ‘Trust the universe, you'll be fine,' or something equally wishywashy. She felt the overwhelming urge to slap the next person who said that sort of bullshit to her.

No, she'd better do something useful like start packing. Tara had clearly made up her mind and there was no point wasting energy trying to get her to change it.

The idea of packing everything up again was daunting. Emily felt tired just thinking about it.

She wished it was all a nightmare she would wake from. But of course it wasn't; this was very real. She patted the dog and let out a loud sigh before sitting up.

‘Come on Gracie, we'd better get started,' she said. She glanced at the vacuum cleaner, where she'd left it to answer the door. ‘But if she thinks I'm going to finish cleaning, she can bloody well think again!'

Back in the kitchen, with notepad and pen in hand, Emily wondered if she should phone her parents.

No.

As much as she wanted her father's sympathy, the first negative comment from her mother would probably send her over the edge. She'd lost her best friend, the possibility of romance, and her dream house in one fell swoop. And she still had the funeral and then the Strattens to deal with. She was feeling far too vulnerable to risk a conversation with Enid.

She'd been a bloody idiot trusting people's word and not seeking professional advice. Not once but twice. The last thing she needed was Enid pointing out what a fool she'd been!

No, she'd start packing; one room at a time. It would keep her mind off John's funeral. At least there was the farm to go back to.

Lucky I didn't offer the place to Nathan after all
, she thought bitterly.

For a moment she wondered if Tara would replace her with other tenants. Perhaps she'd just wanted
her
out, specifically.

She went out to the shearing shed to retrieve the boxes of newspaper and bubble wrap that she'd put there a few days before. Dark clouds were looming, gathering thick and heavy overhead. She'd better phone Two Men and A Truck and see if they could move her Friday morning. Their ad had caught her eye in the last bundle of junk mail she'd received in her post box. She now almost snorted at the thought that Barbara would say that was a sign. Everything was a fucking sign if you looked hard enough!

Thankfully the guys who ran Two Men and a Truck were quite recent arrivals in town and hopefully wouldn't know the ins and outs of her life with John Stratten. Not that she could afford to be picky. No. Gran would say, ‘Beggars can't be choosers, my dear.'

Thanks Gran, real bloody helpful
. She silently cursed and then looked up suddenly at hearing a loud crash of thunder, followed by another, and then the tinkle of hail on the roof.

Fine. Whatever. Do your worst
. With a scowl firmly in place, she prepared to start packing.

Chapter Thirty-six

Emily stared at the boxes and piles of newspaper and bubble wrap on the floor around her and could not find the energy or inclination to tackle the mammoth task.
Perhaps after a mug of Milo.
But she couldn't even make herself get up to get it. She sat at the kitchen table feeling stunned. Her mind couldn't think past what Tara had said. She wanted to be angry, but all she felt was shock, self-pity, guilt and sadness.

The house would be sold and then torn down, she just knew it. And it was her fault. If she hadn't been there, hadn't upset Tara just by being alive, it would not be under threat. Could she fight this?
Should
she fight this? She loved the house; not just its bricks and mortar, but its soul, its connection to her father, and most of all for being her haven when she'd needed it. She had grown there, felt safe there.

And now her time there was up. It wasn't fair. No, it wasn't. But it was reality. She'd already been humiliated when she'd dared to leave John, and she was facing worse once news of her being his executor and beneficiary got around.

Was this a sign she needed to leave this place? Not just the house, but the district? Was this what the fight with Barbara was about – the universe giving her a clear path, setting her free to move away unencumbered?

Where would she go? Adelaide? Melbourne? Just the thought of being in a city that size gave her goose bumps. All those people swarming around her, invading her personal space.

She liked that here in Wattle Creek she could stop on a corner and chat to people she knew. Sure, there hadn't been so much of that lately, but things would settle down again; someone would do something worse and deflect the gossip away from her.

Was there a life with Jake in Melbourne awaiting her? She could at least go and see how the land lay with him. And Liz had said before she left John that she was always welcome to stay with her. Should she take her up on her offer?

But would that just be running away and not facing up to things? There was a lot to be done here wrapping up John's estate. Could she do it from Melbourne, or perhaps hand it over to Gerald and Thora? Maybe she should just tell them and walk away with nothing; start again somewhere.

Perhaps this is karma.

Had she brought all this on herself? Was she getting all she deserved? Suddenly the walls were closing in on her. Emily needed air.

She stumbled out of the kitchen and made her way slowly up the gully with Grace trotting alongside. When she got to the orchard, she sat with her back against the tree where her father had sat the day he told her about his first love Katherine and his connection to the house. Instead of scurrying off after scents, Grace curled up in front of Emily and laid her head on the cross of her ankles.

I can't fight her. How can you fight someone doing something just because they don't like you?
There was nothing to leverage or work with. Even if there was, Emily didn't think she had the strength. She was tired. Not sleepy tired, not the sort of tired from overexerting muscles, but a weariness that went right to her soul. Something like she imagined soldiers must feel; battle fatigue.

She'd been through so much recently. It was hard to believe how much. She needed a break. But how do you have a break from being you? It was one thing to escape from a familiar landscape, but her problems would all still be here when she came back. If she left before sorting out her friendship with Barbara and talking to Thora and Gerald, she'd have all that waiting for her when she returned.

She understood how people could disappear, just drop out of society. But there was no way she could do that. As much as her mother drove her mad, Enid was just Enid. She could never hurt her like that.

And the thought of never seeing her father again made her heart clench painfully and the tears start to roll slowly, one after the other, down her cheeks. They had become so close recently. If there was any good to come out of all this then it was her relationship with Des. And Grace. And Barbara and David. And Jake. She felt sure they would come back to her when the dust settled. She was lucky she had people who cared, which was a lot more than many people had.

And, okay, so she'd just been evicted. But she wasn't out on the street; she had the farmhouse to go back to. Even if Thora and Gerald didn't agree with her inheriting their son's estate when they learnt of their separation, they would never see her homeless.

Emily felt bad for the house, but she couldn't fight Tara. Maybe someone else would do the place up. She had to think that, believe that. It was not life and death. She had John's funeral to get through, and a very difficult conversation to have with his parents. It was going to be very awkward, but it was not mortally wounding. She had to pull herself together and deal with things like the strong, independent woman she was learning to be.

She eased Grace into her lap and hugged her tightly. As much as she didn't want to comply with Tara, she knew she had to. She didn't need more angst in her life. And she certainly didn't need to be the centre of any more gossip. She just wanted a quiet, calm life. Preferably with Jake in it. Really, she only had herself to blame. If she'd sought legal advice and got things signed off properly, she wouldn't be in this mess. She should have learnt that after the settlement fiasco.

Emily let go of Grace, uncrossed her legs, and got up. She made her way slowly back down to the house. Inside she put the kettle on.

She sat with her hands wrapped around a mug of Milo, waiting for the boost of energy she needed to start the packing. Instead, her tired mind moved to thoughts of John's funeral the next day. How was she going to stand up there beside Thora and Gerald with the whole town watching, knowing they were being deceived? The Strattens were very fair people. She wasn't close to them and she found them a little standoffish, but they had never done the wrong thing by her. They were private people who did a lot for their community. Thora had raised tens of thousands of dollars for charity through her famous garden parties. As far as Emily could see, Thora and Gerald had never deliberately hurt anyone. Whatever John's issues with them, they were his own, just like hers with Enid.

So how can I knowingly throw them to the wolves tomorrow? And stand by and watch?

Without knowing exactly what she was doing, Emily grabbed her keys and phone, took David's lease from the manila folder and the lawyers' letter from the table, and stuffed the documents into her handbag as she strode down the hall. She pulled the front door closed behind her and put the bewildered dog beside her in the yard, barely noticing the rain now pouring down upon her. She got drenched in the short dash to the car. But she didn't care.

The sudden downpour had made the already damp driveway greasy, and a few times the car slid in the mud. Emily's heart raced as she fought for control, being careful to steer out of the slide and not brake, just as her father had taught her many years ago.