here. I was wondering if you were going to be around tomorrow? I'd like to call in, say hi and see how you're situated with selling some cattle. I've just had a good buying order come in, and thought you might be interested. Um, okay, you've got my number, so could you give me a call when you come in? Thanks.' Gemma pushed the delete button and headed to her bedroom.
Jess and Pat did the dishes, then Jess headed for the bathroom while Patrick went to his room. He threw himself onto the bed but, after lying there for a few seconds, got up again. He was too agitated to stay still. He flicked idly through a couple of books on a low shelf, then opened the wardrobe. It was filled with Adam's clothes.
Gemma must have shifted them out of her room so she didn't have to look at them, he decided. Thinking about Gemma and how she'd have grieved gave Patrick a funny feeling. He was about to shut the door when he had an idea. Pulling all of the clothes out onto the bed, he started going through the pockets. He jumped when he heard a knock at the door. It opened to reveal Gemma.
'What in the world are you doing? What's all the thumping?' she asked.
'Sorry, sis, I couldn't sleep and I . . . um, have you been through Adam's clothes?'
'What? No, I just put them all in here after the funeral and haven't thought about them since.'
'Well, you never know – we might find something.' Patrick turned back to the clothes and began systematically going through the pockets.
Jess appeared in her pyjamas. 'What's going on?'
'Patrick's going through Adam's pockets,' Gemma told her.
'A suit, hey?' asked Pat, holding up a beautifully tailored jacket and matching pants. 'When would he have ever worn a suit?'
'Not too often, but he wore it to Leisha's wedding and stuff like that.'
'You're jokin'? Even I didn't wear a suit to that.'
'But Pat, that's you . . .' Before Gemma could finish the sentence Patrick had fished a black mobile phone out of a pocket in the suit.
'What's that?' she whispered.
'His phone.' Pat turned to look at her and saw the expression on her face. 'Didn't he have one?'
'Oh, he had one all right, but that wasn't it.' Gemma reached out for it and Patrick handed it to her. Pushing the on button, she was surprised that it still had battery power after so many months. Pushing a few keys, she looked through the phone calls dialled and received – no numbers that she recognised. Next she went to the text message inbox, and started to read:
Johnsons. 200 wthrs, 3wks.
Another message.
Tunnleys. 350 preg ewes 2wks.
And another.
Hocks. 20 steers 3wks.
Gemma kept scrolling through the messages, feeling numb. Here was proof that her husband, someone she'd trusted, loved with her whole soul, was not the man she thought he was.
Dazed, she flicked over to the outbox to look at the messages sent.
Johnsons tea pub. sat no one hm. in pad left of house, after 8pm. Come 2 bill after 3am.
Tunnleys. tea bill. Watch fr 2 mch moon. Nth pd of bill b4 2am.
Hocks back pad against rd. bbq footy clb, not hm til 12pm. Reimer's.
Gemma dropped the phone, her face white, and ran to the office. Barely aware that Patrick and Jess were following her, asking questions, she searched through the bookshelves until she came up with last year's diary, which she had forgotten to give to Dave. Flicking through she came to 26 April, a Saturday. Written in Adam's bold handwriting was Johnsons. Tea-Palace Pub 7 pm.
'No,' she moaned.
'Tell me what the bloody hell is going on,' Patrick demanded. He held the phone in his hand.
Ignoring him, Gemma kept flicking, this time stopping at 19 May. Again the bold handwriting:
Tunnleys tea, Billbinya, 6.30. Finally she came to
20 September, BBQ footy club windup, meet Hocks
5.30 pm. 'Oh Jessie,' she wailed. 'He's done it.'
Chapter 14
Gemma woke to the cheeky chat chat chat of a willy wagtail. She felt angry, scared and sad but couldn't remember why. Her eyes felt dry and scratchy, as if she'd been
Jess and Pat did the dishes, then Jess headed for the bathroom while Patrick went to his room. He threw himself onto the bed but, after lying there for a few seconds, got up again. He was too agitated to stay still. He flicked idly through a couple of books on a low shelf, then opened the wardrobe. It was filled with Adam's clothes.
Gemma must have shifted them out of her room so she didn't have to look at them, he decided. Thinking about Gemma and how she'd have grieved gave Patrick a funny feeling. He was about to shut the door when he had an idea. Pulling all of the clothes out onto the bed, he started going through the pockets. He jumped when he heard a knock at the door. It opened to reveal Gemma.
'What in the world are you doing? What's all the thumping?' she asked.
'Sorry, sis, I couldn't sleep and I . . . um, have you been through Adam's clothes?'
'What? No, I just put them all in here after the funeral and haven't thought about them since.'
'Well, you never know – we might find something.' Patrick turned back to the clothes and began systematically going through the pockets.
Jess appeared in her pyjamas. 'What's going on?'
'Patrick's going through Adam's pockets,' Gemma told her.
'A suit, hey?' asked Pat, holding up a beautifully tailored jacket and matching pants. 'When would he have ever worn a suit?'
'Not too often, but he wore it to Leisha's wedding and stuff like that.'
'You're jokin'? Even I didn't wear a suit to that.'
'But Pat, that's you . . .' Before Gemma could finish the sentence Patrick had fished a black mobile phone out of a pocket in the suit.
'What's that?' she whispered.
'His phone.' Pat turned to look at her and saw the expression on her face. 'Didn't he have one?'
'Oh, he had one all right, but that wasn't it.' Gemma reached out for it and Patrick handed it to her. Pushing the on button, she was surprised that it still had battery power after so many months. Pushing a few keys, she looked through the phone calls dialled and received – no numbers that she recognised. Next she went to the text message inbox, and started to read:
Johnsons. 200 wthrs, 3wks.
Another message.
Tunnleys. 350 preg ewes 2wks.
And another.
Hocks. 20 steers 3wks.
Gemma kept scrolling through the messages, feeling numb. Here was proof that her husband, someone she'd trusted, loved with her whole soul, was not the man she thought he was.
Dazed, she flicked over to the outbox to look at the messages sent.
Johnsons tea pub. sat no one hm. in pad left of house, after 8pm. Come 2 bill after 3am.
Tunnleys. tea bill. Watch fr 2 mch moon. Nth pd of bill b4 2am.
Hocks back pad against rd. bbq footy clb, not hm til 12pm. Reimer's.
Gemma dropped the phone, her face white, and ran to the office. Barely aware that Patrick and Jess were following her, asking questions, she searched through the bookshelves until she came up with last year's diary, which she had forgotten to give to Dave. Flicking through she came to 26 April, a Saturday. Written in Adam's bold handwriting was Johnsons. Tea-Palace Pub 7 pm.
'No,' she moaned.
'Tell me what the bloody hell is going on,' Patrick demanded. He held the phone in his hand.
Ignoring him, Gemma kept flicking, this time stopping at 19 May. Again the bold handwriting:
Tunnleys tea, Billbinya, 6.30. Finally she came to
20 September, BBQ footy club windup, meet Hocks
5.30 pm. 'Oh Jessie,' she wailed. 'He's done it.'
Chapter 14
Gemma woke to the cheeky chat chat chat of a willy wagtail. She felt angry, scared and sad but couldn't remember why. Her eyes felt dry and scratchy, as if she'd been
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