Time Will Tell (13 page)

‘They don't change – they just reveal their true character over time. The truth can only be hidden for so long.'

‘Hey, that reminds me. You'll never guess what Jake found amongst Gran's buttons.'

Emily watched Barbara's eyes grow steadily wider as she told her about the button jar, the diamonds, and the prince's letter.

‘Oh that's beautiful,' she said, bringing her hands to her chest and clasping them when Emily had finished.

‘Isn't it? But the frustrating thing is there's all this money sitting there that I can't use.'

‘I don't see why not, Em. You're pretty strapped. I'm sure, from what you've told me about your gran, she'd want to help.'

‘I couldn't – she's had them for so long.'

‘Clearly I'm not as sentimental as you, because I'd use them if I was in your boat.'

‘You'd sell them?'

‘I'd at least think about it. Why not get them valued and see if you could use them as collateral somehow?'

‘I don't like the thought of parting with them.'

‘You wouldn't be parting with them if you just put them up as collateral.'

‘It'd be too big a risk – she treasured them all those years.'

‘Or maybe she totally forgot they were there and if she'd remembered would have kicked herself for not cashing them in and using the money,' Barbara suggested with a shrug.

‘Hmm, I hadn't thought of it like that. But how could you forget something like that?'

Barbara shrugged. ‘Well there was that story about those people who accidentally donated a suitcase full of money to the Salvos – they'd clearly forgotten. And you did say your gran had Alzheimer's…'

Emily's mind started to spin with confusion. She had been all right about her decision to forget the diamonds when Jake had agreed that there was no way she could part with them. And now here was Barbara, possibly the wisest, kindest person she'd ever met – other than Gran – giving an entirely different perspective.

Perhaps Jake had only agreed out of politeness. After all, they didn't know each other all that well and he was a guest in her house.

Maybe Barbara did have a point. What if Gran had forgotten all about the diamonds? She'd been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease more than ten years before she died. Or what if she'd never really cared about the diamonds in the first place? What if she hadn't really cared about the prince? All Emily had was one letter – from him.

Emily thought of the times she'd spent with Gran, and smiled at how the old lady still had the capacity to push her mother's buttons. Even right to the end when she'd often almost completely retreat into her teenage years, Gran would smile and wink at Emily when Enid snapped at her or left the room out of frustration.

She didn't know how much of what Gran did was her sense of humour and how much was the disease, but there were definitely times when she was intentionally messing with people, and Emily had been in on the joke. She smiled. Yep, Gran had certainly played on her condition when it suited her.

The last time Emily saw her, the day she gave her the button jar, came to her clearly now, as if brought into focus by the lens of a camera. She saw the serious expression, the clarity in the slightly opaque grey-blue eyes which were, indeed, almost the exact shade of the uncut diamonds. She heard Gran's voice; its measured tone, the words, which at the time had seemed a little odd: ‘I need you to have this and take good care of it.'

Her heart slowed but thudded harder against her ribs. Emily could almost hear its hollow beat.
If only she'd said something like, ‘Use them wisely' I'd know for sure
. She let out a deep sigh.

‘You okay?' Barbara asked, sitting up straight and looking across at her friend.

‘Yep, just thinking about Gran. Dear old thing. I miss her.'

Emily felt a heaviness descend. With Gran no longer around there was no way of knowing her wishes, and if she went ahead and let the diamonds' whereabouts be known, there would be all sorts of pressure from her mother and aunt, and probably her cousins too. She was old enough and smart enough to know that the whiff of money would bring out the vultures.
Oh God!

Feeling a little queasy, she got up and poured herself a drink of water from the bottle in the esky.

‘Can I get you some water or something?' she asked Barbara, tossing the question over her shoulder.

‘No thanks, I'm good.'

Emily felt a little better after the water, and deciding she'd feel even better if she busied herself, began packing up everything.

‘Traitor,' Barbara said, hearing the noise and looking across to see what Emily was doing. ‘I was going to leave it for David – teach him a little lesson…'

‘Oh. I figured since I was up…'

‘Doesn't matter, I guess all good things must come to an end,' Barbara said. She got up with a sigh. ‘They're probably sitting behind a tree waiting until we've finished before showing themselves.'

Less than five minutes later, Jake and David emerged. Barbara and Emily, having just finished putting everything beside the ute and car, exchanged looks and burst into laughter.

Jake and David looked at each other and then from Barbara to Emily.

‘Something funny?' David asked.

‘Nope,' Emily and Barbara said in unison, shaking their heads in an effort to quell giggles. ‘Just your impeccable timing.'

David shrugged and lifted an esky onto the back of the ute.

‘Got some great shots,' Jake said, lifting Emily's esky into the boot of her car.

‘Great. And thanks for that,' Emily said, nodding towards the boot.

‘Well, come on, back to the house for pav and coffee,' David said. ‘We've worked up another appetite while you lazy things have been sitting about,' he said, putting his arm around Barbara and giving her an audible sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Barbara pretended to scowl at him before they piled into the two vehicles and David led the way back.

As they drove, Jake chattered with excitement about the shots he'd taken. Emily managed to mumble in all the right places and not give away the fact her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't stop thinking about what Barbara had said and whether or not she should try to sell the diamonds.

Chapter Thirteen

Back at Barbara and David's, they were all engrossed in dessert, the only sounds being murmurs of enjoyment and the clink and slide of forks across plates, when suddenly they were startled by a series of sharp electronic beeps.

‘God, I hope that's not what I think it is,' David said, putting down his fork and pushing back his chair from the table.

‘That's David's SES pager,' Barbara explained to Jake. ‘He'll now go and call in to let them know he's available and find out if they need him.'

Barbara, Jake, and Emily returned to finishing their dessert and coffee.

When Emily pushed her empty plate aside and her chair back slightly from the table, she noticed David standing in the nearby doorway. His face was pale, quite ashen, and he seemed a little perplexed and undecided about something. He looked from the phone in his hand to the door and back again several times.

‘Darling, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost,' Barbara called.

David continued to stand in silence, frowning and biting on his lower lip.

‘Whatever is the matter?' Barbara said, getting up and going over to him.

Emily and Jake exchanged questioning glances and shrugs.

‘Um, er,' David stammered, looking right at Emily.

‘David, what is it?' she asked.

‘John. He's crashed his ute – he's, um, dead.'

Emily felt the colour drain from her face, as if someone had pulled a plug. She unconsciously checked her watch.

‘Less than half an hour ago,' David said, misreading her reflexive action. ‘I can stay if you want, but they need help to…'

‘No darling, you go. We'll be okay. We'll take care of Em, won't we Jake?' Barbara said.

Jake nodded his agreement. He put a hand over Emily's and gave a brief, gentle squeeze.

Emily looked down at his hand and frowned.
How do I feel
? She realised she wasn't actually sad or upset; just surprised, and perhaps a little shocked.

‘I'm okay,' she said, trying to sound bright. Instead her voice came across hard and brittle; as if she didn't care.

I don't actually care.
The realisation brought a new wave of shock and surprise.

She thought of his parents, and wondered whether she should call them. Gerald and Thora Stratten would be distraught. But when she thought about John not being around anymore she felt nothing – not even the numbness of disbelief – except an overwhelming desire to know the details in all their gruesome glory.

I'd better keep that to myself
.

She'd only left him a month and a half ago, and it wasn't like they'd remained friends or anything. But Jesus, she should feel something, shouldn't she? What sort of person felt nothing upon hearing that her husband – estranged husband – had had a terrible accident and was dead?

‘Seriously, I'm fine,' she said, smiling faintly first at Jake and then at Barbara. ‘Bit of a shock, that's all. Drink driving, I suppose; it was only a matter of time,' she said with a grimace and tight shrug.

David was still standing in the doorway. He was shifting awkwardly on his feet, as if trying to decide whether to stay or leave.

‘Go David, seriously,' she urged. ‘At least if you're there we'll get the full story,' she said.

‘Well, if you're sure…'

‘Of course. Go!'

‘Sorry guys,' David said. He rushed over, pecked Barbara on the forehead, laid a hand briefly on Emily's shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Good to see you again, Jake, sorry I have to rush off,' he said, extending a hand.

‘No worries, mate, catch you next time. Thanks for a great day.'

‘Well, better get cracking.'

Not that it'll matter since he's already dead
. But of course the SES had to be there to clean up any spilt fuel, help police cordon off the scene, and keep the rubbernecking public at bay. And to get the body out if it was still trapped.

Emily wondered if at some point it might hit her and she'd get upset; feel
something
. Grace, who had been lying on the floor in the corner, trotted over and stood beside her, looking up with pleading brown eyes. And then Emily did feel something; guilt for ignoring her dog.

It was then that she decided she would feel nothing over John Stratten's death; she would not let him take anything more from her.

Emily was a little taken aback at the forcefulness of her decision; it was as though it had come from a depth beyond her own soul, or from somewhere outside her. The words ‘I hope he rots in hell' were, almost as instantly as they were formed in her mind, countered by the words ‘one shouldn't think ill of the dead'.

In that case
, she thought,
I will think nothing
.

But almost as soon as she had made this silent undertaking, the questions began to tumble into her mind, one after the other, like falling dominoes winding their way around a room: Where did it happen? Had he been drinking? Did the ute roll? Did it hit a tree? Was there fire? Did he die instantly? Was he alone or was someone with him? Where was he going? Where had he come from?

Ten minutes later, Jake and Emily were at the door, hugging Barbara and saying their goodbyes.

‘Now you're sure you're okay?' Barbara said.

Jake responded by putting a protective arm around Emily. ‘She'll be fine; I'll take good care of her,' he said.

Emily didn't argue; she liked the feeling of strength in his arm. She didn't even protest when he opened the passenger door for her. As he drove, she cast a couple of glances across at him and noted how nice it was to have someone drive her again, share the burden, if only for a little while.

She felt exhausted, and practically stumbled over the front doorstep when they arrived back at the house. Luckily Jake caught her before she could fall.

She was annoyed with herself for coming across as frail. He'd most likely think it was due to her husband's death – that she was grief-stricken. But it wasn't that at all. She thought she should make that clear, but couldn't find the energy.

‘Would you like to go straight to bed or can I get you a cup of tea or something?' Jake asked as he closed the front door on the late afternoon. It was only just past five o'clock.

‘I'm fine, Jake. Seriously, you don't have to fuss,' she said wearily. Emily hoped she didn't sound snappy and ungrateful. She made her way to the kitchen on autopilot and sat heavily on the nearest chair.

Damn, I still have to unpack the car
. She decided to do it after a fortifying cup of tea, when she would hopefully have regained some energy.
Why am I so bloody tired anyway
? She'd done nothing all day but sit around eating and relaxing. Hell, she should be on a sugar high from the pavlova.

‘I'll unpack the car after we've had a cuppa,' Jake said, going to the kettle and filling it.

Emily looked up at him, frowning slightly. Had she spoken aloud? Had he read her mind?

‘No, I can do it, I'm fine.'

‘No offence, Emily, but I don't think you are fine. You couldn't be; you've just heard your husband is dead.'

Emily sighed. How could she make him understand when she didn't really understand it herself?

‘My estranged, soon to be
ex
-husband – as soon as was humanly possible. I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but John was not a particularly nice man, and, quite frankly, his death does nothing but help to remove the reminder of what an awful mistake I made. And for that I'm grateful. There, see; I'm a heartless bitch,' Emily said, and shrugged.