Chapter 1 

 

Emily

 

Welcome to Alma.

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I smiled to myself. The smile was a lie, just like the sign. I hadn’t stepped foot in this town for seven years. I wasn’t welcome back then and I wouldn’t be welcome now.

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The main street was just the same as it had been for the past twenty-five years. Broad, with car parks on either side of the road, and a garden down the middle. Wide verandahs on the shopfronts stretched all the way to the roadway—a blessing when unpredictable Queensland storms rolled through. The signs on the awnings were faded, some unreadable. It didn’t matter. If you were a local, you knew what the shops were. If you weren’t a local, you’d just be driving through, anyway.

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I ignored my memories as I drove past the shops and the people strolling down the footpath. It was hard enough driving through town but seeing someone I knew would be worse. I wasn’t ready.

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I sighed. I’d better get ready. The first stop I’d be making was the rural supplies, the Phillips’ Rural Supplies. My stomach tightened thinking about them. All I needed to do was pay off Dad’s account. I didn’t need to engage in conversation. Get in. Get out. That was the plan.

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The gravel crunched under the ute’s tyres as I pulled into the car park. Clutching the steering wheel, I forced my breath to steady. The huge shed loomed overhead like a monster ready to crush me. But it was the monsters inside I was more worried about. Resigned, I reached out to turn the car off and got out.

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Without looking anywhere except the counter, I walked through the big roller door and past pallets of feed, seed, and fertiliser. Grit ground under my feet. I don’t even know why I was so worked up. I’d left this town seven years ago, gone to university and started a successful business. I was happy. I was happy just being me, and they couldn’t take that away from me. I squared my shoulders.

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When the blond-haired guy at the counter turned to me, I nearly faltered. Nearly. I made certain my steps didn’t slow.

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Recognition spread across Corey Philipps’ face. He opened his mouth and I expected him to say Lemony Emily, the charming nickname they’d given me as a child because they thought I was sour. Putting up with their shit, year after year, it was no wonder. Before he could utter a word, his mother appeared beside him. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail so tight it had to give her a headache. She put a hand on his arm as if in warning before looking me up and down.

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“Hello, Emily. It’s so nice to see you.”

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I doubted it. She’d never been happy to see me before.

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“Hi, Mrs. Phillips. I’m here to pay off our account.”

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She considered me, a moment too long. The beginning of a smile lifted the corner of her lips like she knew a secret she was eager to divulge.

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“It’s over $3,000.”

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She didn’t even need to check the computer. How many times had they discussed my father’s account amongst themselves? Worse yet, with others? The debt wouldn’t be worse than any other farmers in town. Dad would have paid off the previous year’s debt after harvest, then would have needed seed and fertiliser among other things for the next planting. All farmers had a revolving account. That’s just the way it worked. Except the prospect of Dad’s account being paid was almost non-existent compared to those other farmers.

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I maintained eye contact with her. “That’s fine.”

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Her eyes widened.

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I pulled out my card. “Do you have an exact amount so I can pay it now? I’ll need an itemised invoice, please.”

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She hit the computer keys with attitude and flourish, printed an invoice and handed it to me. I glanced at the total and handed her my card. I wasn’t going to scrutinise the invoice in front of them. Mrs Phillips examined the card like it would reveal more than just the numbers on its face. Her eyes lifted to mine; eyebrows raised as if in challenge.

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“Credit?” Her voice was smarmy, presumptuous. She inserted the card into the machine, her finger moving toward the credit button.

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“Savings, please.”

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Her finger paused for a moment. “Oh, of course.”

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What was that in her voice? Disbelief? Disappointment that she couldn’t say Jim Watson’s daughter paid off his credit account with credit of her own?

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I flexed my fingers. I’d nearly made it through my first encounter. I hadn’t embarrassed myself. I’d actually been quite composed. Corey had moved away, which helped with my tenseness.

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Mrs Phillips handed the card to me with my receipt.

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“Thank you,” I said, taking the card from her.

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As I turned away, Mrs Phillips said in her saccharine voice, “I’ll be out to visit your dad soon.”

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Please don’t.

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I strode away, passing my nemesis on the way.

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“See ya, Lemony.”

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Stiffening, I picked up pace, not relaxing until I reached the safety of my car. My hands shook when I considered where to visit next. I’d reward myself with the servo last. There were new owners there. At least they would have no animosity towards me.

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By the time I made it to the servo, I was worn out. It had been hard to control my nerves as I entered each establishment and each time, I’d chastised myself. I was an adult now. I’d left this town and its people behind. I was strong then and stronger now. Those people should no longer have any effect on how I felt.

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I shook my hands and dispelled any nerves before pulling the servo’s glass door open. The shop was the complete opposite to what I remembered. The lino beneath my feet was whole with no gaping holes or cracks. The shelves were clean and well-stocked. The lights above shone bright without a single flicker. My nostrils were not filled with mustiness. I turned to the counter and was greeted by a smiling face. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen all day. The lady’s long teal top was patterned in vibrant pink and orange, bringing out the golden hues in her brown skin.

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“Hi. I’m Emily Watson. I’d like to pay off our family account please.”

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“Jim’s daughter?” Her accent was strong, maybe Pakistani.

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I stared at her, surprised she recognised my name so readily. “Yes.”

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“It is my pleasure to meet you. I’m Aisha Sharif.”

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I was taken aback by her friendliness and familiarity. How did someone who only moved to town two years ago know my name?

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“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

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She nodded, still smiling.

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“I’d like to pay off our account please.”

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“There is no account here.”

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That didn’t make sense. Dad always had fuel delivered to the farm, and if he needed parts for machinery, he’d likely buy it from the servo. The look on my face must have reflected my thoughts.

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“We wiped that account months ago when we learnt of Jim’s illness.”

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“That’s OK. I’m happy to pay.”

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“No. No. There is no account to pay.”

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I considered her. People who’d known my dad since he was a child held onto his account, most likely discussing his failure to pay. Yet, these people who’d been here for two years, had wiped it.

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“Your father, he welcomed us, me and my husband, to town. Helped us to settle in. Invited us into his home. Him and the Bairds were the only ones.”

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Dad may have been a hard arse. Strict. Cold, at times—well, most of the time with me—but he had a kind heart. The fact that Luke’s family were the only other family to welcome the Sharifs didn’t surprise me.

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Luke had been my best friend for twenty-five years. The only person who’d made life here bearable. He was the person I looked forward to seeing the most on my return. Just thinking about him brought a smile to my face. His easy grin. His messy hair. His warmth. Him.

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The door opened behind me. I shivered as the cool breeze caressed the back of my neck. The clack of heels against the lino made my stomach drop. I turned as the footsteps approached the counter. My whole body froze at the sight of Bianca Phillips striding towards me. I was amazed my autonomic nervous system continued to function.

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Bianca flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, her hips swaying. Stopping in front of me, she stretched up to her full height, pushed her chest out and cocked her hip. She had always liked reminding me that she was taller than me, always looking down on me. She scrutinised me and scowled. “Emmaline. Mum said you were in town. I didn’t believe it.”

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Emmaline. No one but Bianca Phillips had called me that since the accident. The day I’d reopened my eyes I was known as Emily. Everyone respected that, except Bianca.

 

Our third-grade teacher stood at the front of the classroom, smiling at me. “Welcome back to class, Emily. We’ve missed you.”

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I shifted in my seat as everyone in the classroom turned to stare at me. It wasn’t the first time they’d stared that day. They’d stared on the bus when Bianca had made sure they’d known of my presence by whispering and pointing. They’d stared as I’d entered the school, my arrival announced like wind crossing fields with no wind breaks. Stares and whispers everywhere I turned.

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“Her name is Emmaline,” Bianca pointed out, contempt filling her voice.

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My heart raced. My hands escaped to under the desk, and I clutched at the hem of my skirt. Luke, who was sitting beside me, spoke for me. “We call her Emily now.”

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“She can’t just change her name,” Bianca said, her voice rising.

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She turned her body to face us, full of attitude, sneering. What fucking eight-year-old sneers at another? I shrunk away from her. Luke sat up straighter.

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“Bianca, people shorten their names all the time. If Emily wants to be known as Emily, that’s what we’ll do.” The tone in our teacher’s voice indicated it was the end of the discussion. I sat there, my heartbeat thumping in my ears. Luke’s warmth at my back reassuring. He didn’t waver. Neither did Bianca.

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“I don’t know why she gets special treatment just because her mum is dead.”

 

Just like that day, I shrunk away from her. Words evaded me. Bianca smiled, knowing exactly what effect using my full name would have.

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Mrs Sharif cleared her throat. “Is it just the petrol you’d like today, Bianca?”

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Bianca’s face hardened as she rolled her eyes and turned to Mrs Sharif. “Yes.”

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“That will be sixteen dollars please.”

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Sixteen dollars. She didn’t need fuel at all. It was just an excuse to come in here to see me. Bianca pulled her card out and tapped it against the machine. As she walked towards the door she said, “See you around, Emmaline. I’ll let Luke know you’re home.”

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As soon as the doors closed behind her my stomach unclenched. I was nauseous. Trust Bianca to take me back to being an insecure child. I should have called after her that Luke already knew I was home. That she knew nothing about Luke and me. That we were still best friends even after seven years apart. That Luke was not, in any way, interested in her.

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But I didn’t.

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“You shouldn’t give her so much power over you,” Mrs Sharif said, her voice gentle.

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“I know. I didn’t mean to.”

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“Do not worry. Sometimes strength comes little by little. You can grow, but a person like Bianca is stunted.”

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I pressed my trembling hands against my thighs and took a deep, calming breath. “Yes, you’re right. Thank you.”

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“You go now. Go to your father. Dalir and I will visit soon.” She reached across the counter and squeezed my hand.

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Mrs Sharif’s kindness gave me a serenity I hadn’t felt all day. As I drove towards the farm, I tried to hold onto that serenity. Field after field passed by. Their rows of leafy green vegetables orderly, nothing out of place. This kind of constant could bring harmony to one’s soul. I didn’t feel it. The peacefulness I’d felt minutes ago eroded kilometre by kilometre. When I turned into the driveway and spotted the house, the serenity disappeared altogether.