Time Will Tell (41 page)

They entered a small dining room that contained a lovely old timber dining setting and sideboard. Easing the relative drabness of the plain off-white walls and timber furniture was a selection of canvases in varying sizes, colours and floral designs.

‘As you can see, this is my dumping ground for paintings that I don't know what else to do with,' Simone said with a laugh.

‘Well, you can dump them at my house any time,' Emily said.

‘You're welcome to have one.'

‘Oh I couldn't,' Emily said.

‘Of course you could. It would be my pleasure if you like them that much.'

‘I think you should keep them and one day exhibit,' Emily said, slightly changing the subject.

She didn't want to just take advantage of Simone's generosity. The woman had already given her so much by selling her jam. But more important than the money was that Simone had given her hope when she'd been at her lowest ebb. And all without having even met her. Emily wished she could somehow return the favour.

They moved into the tiny kitchen and poked their heads into the incredibly cramped bathroom that opened from it. The room held nothing but a blue enamel bath with shower over it, a matching pedestal basin with a small mirrored shaving cabinet, and a toilet at the end of the bath beside the basin. There was no way two people could fit into the bathroom at once. The only spare floor space was taken up with the opening of the door.

‘See what I mean? An absolute disaster. All of this back section needs to come off and be started again. But it's going to cost a fortune. The bank is happy to lend me the money, but I can't quite get my head around living on a building site without a kitchen and bathroom for six months, especially during winter. Maybe I'll bite the bullet next summer,' she said with a shrug. ‘Meanwhile, at least there is an inside toilet,' she added. ‘When these places were built the toilets were all out the back. The nightsoil man used to come along the back alleys and take it away.'

‘So you live alone?' Emily asked.

‘Yes. I've got a newish boyfriend, but we only really see each other on weekends. So far it seems to suit us. He's away this weekend,' she added. ‘Well, that's the end of the tour. Outside is just a small slab of concrete and then a huge brown iron fence. I'll show you in the morning. I'll put dinner in to heat – it'll take around twenty minutes,' she said, going into the kitchen and turning on the oven. ‘You're welcome to have a shower. Not that I'm saying you need one, but I always feel so grimy after travelling.'

‘I think I will, thanks.'

‘You'll find everything you need behind the door in your room – towels, bathrobe, slippers…' ‘Thanks.' Emily made her way back down to the hall and into the spare room. She closed the door and sat on the end of the bed.

The set of towels on the antique-style rack, in a charcoal colour perfectly matching the feature wall, seemed too well-presented to be used. It was all so perfect, but unlike being in similarly well-decorated homes – her Aunt Peggy's for example – she felt totally at ease.

She extracted her toiletries bag from her suitcase, got undressed down to her underwear, and dragged on the plush, freshly laundered robe – again in charcoal. She pulled it tightly around her, enjoying the softness on her skin, and took a deep whiff of its apple scent. She put fresh underwear in the side pocket of her toiletries bag, tucked it under her arm, took the face washer and one of the towels from the rack, and headed back down to the bathroom.

Simone turned from tossing a fresh salad in a white ceramic bowl. ‘Find everything you need?' she asked, smiling warmly.

‘Yes thanks,' Emily replied, closing the bathroom door. She couldn't wait to get under a hot shower.

Simone was nowhere to be seen when Emily emerged, nor did she encounter her on her trek back through the house to the guest room. She dressed in jeans and t-shirt and emerged ten minutes later feeling considerably refreshed.

She wandered back down to the kitchen, which smelt strongly of garlic and baked cheese, and suddenly felt hungry.

‘Better?' Simone said, appearing behind her.

‘Much. Thank you. I think it even increased my appetite,' she added with a laugh.

‘Good to hear,' Simone said, moving into the kitchen. ‘You take this lot to the table and I'll bring the lasagne and garlic bread,' she said, handing Emily a pile consisting of plates, cutlery, napkins, and a bowl of salad with stainless steel servers protruding from it.

Having distributed the bits and pieces around the table, Emily stood while Simone put down the steaming dish of lasagne and took the foil-wrapped bread from the top and put it on the extra plate.

‘Would you like a glass of wine?'

‘Actually just water for me would be good, thanks. But I can get it.'

‘Glasses are above the sink.'

Emily returned with two tumblers of water to find Simone had put the perfect-sized slice of lasagne and a small pile of salad on her plate.

‘It smells divine.'

‘It's one of my all-time favourites. Cheers,' she said, raising her glass towards Emily. ‘Thanks for being here.' They clinked.

‘Thanks for inviting me,' Emily said, smiling back.

‘To Jake,' Simone added.

‘Jake,' Emily affirmed with a nod.

It was eleven by the time they'd put the plates in the sink – Simone was adamant that they were not doing any dishes at that hour – covered the dish containing the leftover lasagne with cling wrap and put it in the fridge. Both women were unsuccessfully trying to hide yawns.

‘You're welcome to sit up and watch TV,' Simone said, ‘but I'm off to bed.'

‘Thanks, but I'm exhausted. What time is Jake coming for breakfast?' Emily asked, as they made their way through the lounge room and into the hall.

‘I told him nine-ish, so that means he'll be here right on the dot. Always punctual is our Jake. I'll be up about seven. Maybe you'd like to go for a walk? I go most mornings. But no pressure, we can see how we feel in the morning.'

‘Sounds good. At home I don't often sleep beyond six-thirty.'

They were now standing outside the door to Emily's room.

‘Well, goodnight then,' Simone said. ‘And, again, thanks so much for coming all this way; it really does mean a lot.'

‘It's my pleasure. And thank you for everything.' She thought about adding, ‘Jake's so lucky to have you as a sister,' but her throat contracted and she felt a wave of emotion overcome her. Her tiredness had caught up. ‘Good night then,' she said, turning the handle and entering the room.

In her room, Emily put her light cotton shortie pyjamas on and pushed her feet between the tightly tucked crisp sheets. ‘Goodnight Gracie,' she whispered into the dark room, and tried to ignore the slight feeling of homesickness and focus on snuggling down.

She had just got the thick feather pillows arranged perfectly when she realised she hadn't cleaned her teeth. Too bad, she thought, running her tongue around in her mouth. She didn't fancy traipsing back through the house now all the lights had been turned off. She just hoped she wouldn't need a wee during the night and get disorientated.

That had happened once during a sleepover at a friend's at high school; she had ended up stuck in their walk-in pantry unable to find the door out.

Her so-called friend had told everyone at school the next day and Emily had been bullied about it for a whole term. Ever since then, she'd felt uneasy when staying in unfamiliar houses. Not that it was something she had to deal with very often.

She heard footsteps outside her door followed by a gentle tapping. She lifted her head off the pillow.

‘Em, I've put night lights on in case you need to use the loo – there's nothing worse than bumbling around disorientated in a strange house.'

‘Thanks very much,' she called. She smiled, and settled back down.
Now
Simone had thought of everything.

Chapter Forty-six

Emily awoke from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes, looked about to get her bearings, and then stretched. God, the bed and pillows were comfortable. She checked her watch; a little after seven.

For a moment she was surprised she'd managed to sleep in half an hour past her usual wake-up time. Then she realised it was half an hour later there in Melbourne, which meant she'd actually gone to bed half an hour earlier than usual. She smiled at thinking that Grace would have been at her to be let out by now. If she were at home. But she wasn't; she was in a big city far away.

A wave of homesickness swept through her, but she pushed it aside. She was here for Jake. And Simone was being lovely to her. Grace was fine being taken care of by Barbara and David.
Pull yourself together.
She reminded herself to phone her parents a little later. If she timed it right they'd be out at the funeral and she could just leave a message.
Fingers crossed.

She threw back the covers, got up, and put on the bathrobe and slippers.

Simone was in the kitchen doing the dishes.

‘Good morning,' Emily said.

‘Good morning. Did you sleep okay?'

‘Like a log. That is such a comfortable bed.'

‘That's good to hear.'

‘I'll help you with those,' Emily said, ‘I just need to use the loo first.'

‘There were hardly any; they're almost done.'

When she came out Simone was nowhere in sight so Emily went back to her room, dressed in the same clothes as last night, put on her runners, and draped her hoodie over her arm. She emerged to find Simone wearing track pants with a matching zip-up hoodie and a plain baseball cap.

‘You look like you're keen for a walk. I was just coming to check.'

‘Yep, ready to go,' Emily said. ‘I usually go in the mornings at home.' She slipped her arms into her hoodie and then zipped it up.

‘Great. I want to pick up some croissants for breakfast. There's a lovely little bakery-café around a ten-minute walk away.'

‘What a lovely street,' Emily said, as they walked along the tree-lined pavement past row after row of single-storey terraces. ‘I can't believe how close to the city you are,' she added, gazing up with awe at the skyscrapers looming above them.

‘It really is the perfect spot; it only takes twenty minutes to walk right into the Bourke Street Mall. Not that I do all that often.'

‘Gorgeous old houses,' Emily said.

‘Yes, hard to believe they were once workers' cottages. I was lucky I got in when I did. Prices have skyrocketed in the past few years.'

They turned left at the end of the long street and approached a café where a mass of lycra-clad men and women sat around small tables sipping at cups. Groups of bicycles leant against walls, trees, or lay in jumbled piles on the ground barely off the footpath. This was something Emily had never seen outside the one bakery-café at home. She smiled and almost laughed out loud at picturing how the old biddies of Wattle Creek would react to such a scene.

They would stand about tut-tutting for a while before someone was dispatched to speak to the local police officer – being as it was outside of council office hours. Upon being informed it was not a criminal matter, they would then set up a committee to raise funds for a bike rack to deal with this dangerous blight on the street – all before the first latte was consumed inside. That was how things were done in a small town; everyone minding everyone else's business.

They stepped inside onto the black and white chequered tiles and joined the end of the queue.

Emily's mouth had been watering for a croissant since Simone had mentioned that's what they were having for breakfast. Croissants were few and far between in Wattle Creek, and she hoped the bakery wouldn't run out. While they waited, she glanced around the sea of French-style ornate wrought-iron tables and chairs. What she couldn't believe was how many fit-looking people – dressed in proper bike riding gear – were tucking into big breakfasts.

I suppose they must burn it all off on the bikes.

Then Simone was turning away from the counter carrying a large paper bag with a few spots of grease already seeping through.

With all the constant small shuffles forward that she'd been making with everyone else, Emily hadn't realised how close to the counter Simone had got. She'd wanted to pay for the croissants. That was what house guests did, right? Oh well, she pushed the thought aside. She made a mental note to mention the airfares later.

Outside, Emily breathed in the fresh air.

‘Phew,' Simone said. ‘I'd forgotten just how busy it gets on a Saturday morning – I tend to come down here later if I do; usually just stay home to read the paper.'

‘Someone should tell them they're undoing their exercise with all the bacon and eggs,' Emily said, as they turned back into Simone's street.

‘Yes, and how ridiculous do middle-aged men with pot bellies look in lycra?'

Emily laughed and shook her head.

As they got closer to Simone's cottage, her heart began to flutter; soon she would see Jake.

Right on the dot of nine, there was a tap at the front door. Emily's heart leapt into her mouth. She'd been sitting at the table reading the paper, constantly checking her watch and getting more anxious and excited as the hands moved closer to nine o'clock. And now he was here.

Simone put the tray of croissants in the oven and went to let Jake in. Emily stayed where she was, listening to their voices as they greeted each other. Jake sounded tired and flat, not at all like his usual jovial self.

At first he didn't see her when he entered the room just behind Simone.
God, he looks so thin
, Emily thought,
and pale and drawn
. She stood up, and he stopped dead in his tracks, gaping.

‘Hi Jake,' she said, her legs suddenly feeling weak. She dipped her head shyly.