She looked from Marty to his mates, who were engaged in an animated conversation. Why not? This was the beginning of her adventure and she hadn’t come all this way to be on her own.
“Thanks,” she said, and followed him back to the luggage carousel.
* * *
Euan lugged his surfboard in its bag away from the oversized luggage area. He was glad he’d decided to spend a few days in Perth before returning home. Even though he’d slept on the plane he still felt tired. He wanted to get to his sister’s place and have a good night’s sleep in one of Maggie’s comfortable spare beds. He’d become used to Eastern Standard Time and now his body clock was out of kilter.
I must be getting old, he thought wryly. Deep down the idea scared him. He couldn’t imagine himself as old, but he had to admit that at sixty-five he couldn’t keep up the pace he used to without some extra sleep.
He’d enjoyed his break away from Levallier Dell. A couple of times a year he made the trek to the east, usually to meet distributors in Victoria and New South Wales, and he always managed to catch up with old friends and surf. The surfing had been excellent. Even though his patch of WA offered some of the best surf beaches he enjoyed the change. That had been his saviour, pretending for a couple of weeks that he was twenty again with nothing but the search for the perfect wave to worry about. The total indulgence of it was hard to shake. And now there was another reason to make the long flight to the east.
He dragged his feet at the thought of returning to home and work. The deals he had to make to ensure a market for Levallier Dell wines were getting harder. He didn’t like that side of the business but he still insisted on doing it. That was his excuse to go east.
Raucous laughter erupted across the room. He looked over to where a group of young men were collecting their bags. Keely stood among them looking a little out of place. He hadn’t realised she knew them.
She was a tall young woman with a solid but curvy figure. Not painfully thin like so many young women these days – at least there was some meat on her bones. She had long black hair that flowed down her back, but she tended to let it fall forward to hide her face.
Euan tended to collect interesting people on his travels and he suspected Keely was one. He’d seen a glimpse of an inner sparkle but she was very self-conscious. She also had artistic talent. He’d managed to sneak a look at her sketch when she thought he was asleep. He’d easily recognised his own portrait.
He envied her youth and the freedom to travel with no definite plans other than a destination. There was a time when he’d lived like that, and now he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to be that carefree again. Did he even want to be?
By the time he had collected his bag most of the other passengers had moved away. He headed to the doors where Keely now stood alone. Perhaps she was on her own after all.
“Would you like a ride?” he asked as he drew level with her.
She glanced at him with a startled expression.
“Oh…no, thanks. I’m sharing with some others.” She nodded towards the group of young men already outside with their gear.
“That’s good, you’ve got friends to go with,” he said.
“They’re not friends…at least I’ve only just met them. We’re staying at the same place so we’re sharing a taxi,” she blurted. She lowered her face and the veil of hair fell forward again.
Euan was reluctant to leave it at that. He suddenly felt paternal. If she were his daughter he wouldn’t want her going off with strangers.
“Here.” He stepped to one side so he could put his surfboard down then dug in his pack and pulled out a pen and the newspaper he’d bought to read on the flight. He scribbled on a corner, tore it off and pressed it into her hand. “If you ever decide to come south give me a call. There’s plenty of room at my place. That’s my number and my sister’s. I’m staying in Perth for a few days at her place.” He patted his pocket. “My phone’s not always on. Maggie can always find me.”
“Thanks.” She looked towards the doors. “I’d better go.”
She shoved the slip of paper into her pocket and hurried away. He turned to pick up his things. What had prompted him to do that? He was just as much a stranger to her as the other men were, but something about her had brought out the fatherly figure in him.
He stood for a moment with his arm around his board and watched the laughing group pile into a taxi. With a deep sigh and a slight shake of his head, he moved off. Time to get back to reality.
He’d been away longer than he’d intended. No doubt his sister would give him a lecture about his lack of communication. He could put up with that if it meant a few more days respite before he returned home. Times had changed, there were issues he could no longer avoid, and then there was his son. Euan loved the tranquillity of his winery on the river and he knew the mounting business pressures could be faced, but it was Flynn’s disapproval that he dreaded most.
* * *
Kat pulled the cap from her head, shook out her thick brown hair and fluffed up her fringe. She took a long, deep breath and drew in the fresh scent of a perfect river morning. Thank goodness she had insisted on staying the night in Perth before making the three-hour drive. Pappou had wanted to meet her at the airport but she had remained firm on driving herself. She’d had a good night’s sleep in their Perth townhouse. Refreshed and looking forward to visiting her grandparents and Margaret River again, she had relished the freedom of the wind in her face and the joy of the little car all to herself. Pappou would have wanted the roof closed and would have driven at a much slower pace.
She opened the door and stepped out onto the new concrete drive. She’d already taken in the huge additions to the old house used for cellar-door sales and noted the sign describing the meals now available. River Dynasty had certainly gone more upmarket since her last visit as a teenager.
“Katerina!”
She whirled around. The old man emerged from the rows of vines behind her, his arms flung wide.
“Hello, Pappou.” She surrendered to his big squeezy hug and kisses.
“You look wonderful. Maybe a bit thin though, hey?” He grabbed her arms and she noticed the deepening wrinkles on his face and the streaks of silver through his hair. When had that happened? It was hard to imagine he was getting older. Not her Pappou; he was always so vibrant and strong.
“It’s good to see you, Pappou. I’m so glad I could come.”
He touched her cheek with one hand while still holding her arm with his other and she noticed tears welling in his eyes.
“Thanks for lending me the car,” she said quickly.
He pinched her cheek. “I hope you didn’t take that machine too fast. I really shouldn’t let you drive it.” The serious moment was replaced by his hearty chuckle.
She felt a warm surge of love mixed with a liberating relief. It was good that she’d come. Pappou’s love was open and without conditions. She was desperately in need of some of that unqualified attention at the moment. She had a big decision to make and she would appreciate his advice.
CHAPTER 3
Keely looked out over the beautiful parklands to the dark water of the Swan River and let out a long slow breath. She was here, Perth, the place of happy childhood memories. She wanted to find that feeling again, that perfect happiness, and this was the starting point.
From the age of seven she had come nearly every year, either alone or with the rest of her family, to spend holidays with her grandparents. Her grandfather would take her on expeditions along the Swan in his little wooden boat. They would fish and swim and picnic, and he would tell her tales of his travels to the northern areas of Australia. She could hear him now, his Irish brogue strengthening as his stories stretched a wee bit beyond the truth. In her mind, she pictured his twinkling green eyes and his cheeky grin. Gran had always called him her little Irish leprechaun.
Keely wished they were here now as she looked out across the river. Perhaps she would have been able to tell them the things sh
e couldn’t discuss with her parents. Grandpa would have known the words to help her and Gran would have cooked an impossible amount of food to cheer her up. But that wasn’t going to happen. Her grandfather had died when she was eighteen and Gran had become more and more frail and eventually moved back to South Australia, and into a residential home close to the family. Keely had visited the home before she left but these days her grandmother hardly remembered who she was let alone anything about her life in the west.
The vista in front of Keely didn’t allow for sadness. The memorial to those who’d died in war was laid out before her. She didn’t know anyone who had been killed in a war, but she appreciated the careful design that allowed people to sit peacefully and reflect like several were doing now. The perpetual flame rose out of a calm pool of water with the words Let silent contemplation be your offering engraved underneath.
She said the words quietly, then looked again over the beautifully manicured gardens, past the monument and flags, to the Swan River, with Perth spread along its banks and up to the distant hills. She snapped a few photos to send home then wandered a bit further, intrigued by the different coloured kangaroo-paw flowers. She snapped several photos from different angles. She didn’t use Facebook but liked to post quirky images on Instagram. Then she took a selfie with her arm around a statue and texted her friend Bec, ‘Wish you were here’ with a crazy-face emoji.
A group of teenage boys slouched past. Their hands were in their pockets and they were glancing around but they weren’t taking in the view. Keely watched as they walked defiantly into the path of an older couple then, at the last minute, stepped around them. One of the boys yelled “Watch it,” and startled the couple, who had been looking at the memorial.
Keely dropped her gaze. The familiar feeling of helplessness returned and washed over her in a flash with the ease of an enemy knowing it could win. Black spots danced before her eyes and she gasped in some air. She’d been holding her breath.
Her fingernails dug into her palms. She forced the door shut on the dark corners of her mind, spun around and stepped straight into a toddler. The small child was knocked flat by the impact and began to wail loudly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.” Keely reached to help him up.
The boy wailed even louder. His mother arrived and brushed him off. “He’ll be alright,” she said.
“Sorry,” Keely mumbled again.
“I told him not to run, didn’t I, Mathew.” The mother took the screaming child in her arms and smiled. “If he’s making this much noise he can’t be too badly hurt.”
Keely apologised again before she turned and hurried away. She rushed along under the massive gum trees that lined the road leading out of the park. The child’s wails followed her on the breeze and the familiar feeling of nausea squirmed in her stomach.
* * *
“Here you are, Keely.”
Marty greeted her as she stepped through the door of the hostel. He was dressed only in board shorts and she took in his smooth, bronzed torso.
“We’re making plans for tonight,” he said. “Do you want to join us?”
The walk back from King’s Park had been mainly downhill, but Keely felt breathless. She had a sharp pain in her side and she was tired. “I don’t know,” she replied vaguely. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“Mike’s found a club that gives us free entry and some half-price drinks. They’ve got a live band tonight and it’s not too far from here.”
“I don’t know,” she repeated. She’d never been one for the club scene at home. She and her girlfriends would go to pubs and parties but after trying out a few different clubs she’d not bothered to go again. The noise and the hot press of bodies, the vomit in the toilet, the dark corners where you had to shout to be heard; none of it appealed to her.
Suddenly, Marty grabbed her hands and swung her round. His hair was wet from the pool, his eyes sparkled and the dimple on his cheek deepened as he grinned. “Come on, Keely, you only live once. We’re on holidays, first night in Perth. It’ll be wild.”
His laugh was infectious and she found herself grinning as he whirled her around. This was what her holiday was meant to be about, wasn’t it? Having fun. She had to stop the spinning around though, that made her already upset stomach churn.
“Alright,” she gasped, and tried to pull her hands out of his. She caught him off balance and he fell against her, knocking them both into the wall. Keely was acutely conscious of his naked chest pressed against her with his arms either side.
He pushed away from the wall. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her hair flopped across her face and she brushed at an imaginary mark on her shirt to hide her embarrassment.
“Nothing like sweeping a guy off his feet.” Marty’s laugh was easy and infectious.
She snuck a look at him through the curtain of her hair. “When are you leaving?” she asked, to change the subject.
He was silent for a moment. His gaze was intense and she felt the heat from her cheeks burn down to her neck.
“We’re going to wander down to Northbridge and get something to eat,” he said. “Check out the night life, then head for the club. Let’s say we meet you out the front in an hour?”
“Sure.” She risked another glance at him.
He grinned then thundered off down the passage towards the dormitory he was sharing with his friends.
She sighed and made her way up the stairs to the single accommodation she had chosen for herself. It was her first night and she’d decided she didn’t want to share with strangers. Maybe once she’d got used to the backpacker lifestyle she would try the dorm lodging. It was certainly cheaper and she didn’t have a bottomless supply of money.
Back in her room, she peeked into the en suite she shared with the room next door. It was empty so she stripped off, piled her thick hair on top of her head and let the warm water wash over her achy body. She felt strange, a little queasy, not quite right; probably just the shock of actually being here after all of the planning. It was hard to believe she’d really done it. Her travels had begun. Excitement fluttered in her belly along with the occasional jab of pain.
After the shower she lay on her bed, breathing slowly and willing herself to calm down. She wished now that she hadn’t agreed to go with Marty and his mates. It would have been better to veg out in her room and acclimatise to this newly found freedom.
Keely had always lived at home. After she’d left school she’d gone straight to university. Living at home had been the only choice. She had a part-time job but it would have been a real struggle to maintain a flat. Once she went teaching, the jobs were always contracts. She never knew from one year to the next where she’d be, so her mother had encouraged her to stay at home. Here she was, twenty-seven years old, and, apart from one term’s contract at a country school, she’d never lived away from home.
She pushed herself off the bed, put on jeans and a fresh top and pulled a quirky face at her reflection in the mirror. “You need some excitement in your life, Keely.”
The niggling pain grabbed her again. She grimaced into the mirror, applied some lipstick, brushed out the hair that her mother always wanted her to wear up and strapped on the neat little over-shoulder purse that her mother had said wouldn’t be big enough. It held her wallet and phone, which was all she’d need tonight.
Once more she glanced at her reflection, drew back her shoulders and stepped out the door to meet Marty and his mates.
* * *
“It’s nice to know you are still with us, Euan. Let’s drink to that, shall we?”
Euan watched his sister raise her glass, her piercing gaze not leaving his as she took a sip of the late-harvest riesling. Not one of his own wines, of course, but this one came from an old friend’s long-established Margaret River winery.
“Mmmm.” He let the flavours roll around his palette. “Rich and tropical with a hint of honeysuckle. Just perfect for you, Maggie.”
&n
bsp; “Yes, some sweetness with a touch of the blarney,” his sister replied. Her smile creased the skin around her eyes like a concertina. “Your wine and smooth talk might work on me but I’ve always been too soft on you. I think Flynn will take more winning over.” She put down her glass and spoke softly. “You’ve been gone a month this time, Euan, and nothing but a few text messages. You don’t answer our calls. Would it be that hard to keep in regular contact?”
“You always call when I’m not available.”
Her eyebrows raised. “You could ring back.”
He dug his phone from his pocket and glared at it. “The battery doesn’t seem to hold charge for long these days.”
“That phone’s archaic. Time to get a new one.” She sat back and took another sip of wine.
Sometimes he wished she would get angry with him. The gentleness of her words always made him feel far worse than if she’d yelled at him. She took after their French father; never loud, always calm, immaculately presented. Euan flicked his gaze around her South Perth apartment. It was exquisitely furnished with things from her world travels, but the pervading influence was definitely Parisienne. Heavy drapes, gilt edges, statues and mirrors dominated, but here and there were touches of bright Australian colours, just to remind you that the apartment was in Perth and not Paris.
“If anything was wrong you would have heard in a wink of an eye,” he said.
“Euan Levallier, you are a rascal.” She laughed. It was a warm sound. Maggie may have taken after their French father but they both had their Irish mother’s easy sense of humour.
“But you love me.” He chuckled too, and tossed the phone aside. “Now, are you going to feed me, I’m wondering? My stomach’s still back on Byron Bay time and it thinks it’s ten o’clock.”
“Ah, pauvre petit.” She put down her glass and glanced at her watch. “It is getting late. The food is all prepared. It won’t take long to cook.”
Half an hour later they were enjoying a delicious Dijon chicken and Maggie was telling Euan about her latest gala event; a fundraiser for one of the major hospitals. It promised to be a grand affair with the ‘who’s who’ of Perth in attendance. Maggie was in her element. She was a wonderful organiser and a natural at getting people to part with their money by the bucketload.
Something in the Wine Page 2
