Something in the Wine

by Tricia Stringer

  Back in the bedroom she pulled up the bedcovers and pushed her things back into her bag. Physically, she was feeling much stronger despite the pain reminding her if she moved too quickly. She was glad of the trackpants she’d packed. It was too soon to squeeze into her jeans.

  She hoped Euan could drop her into the town and she could stay there for a day or so then catch a bus back to Perth. She certainly wasn’t going to stay at Levallier Dell if there was any chance she would run into the arrogant Flynn again.

  She looked around, unsure about what to do next. The phone began to ring but no one answered it. She would love to make a fresh cup of tea. Euan’s lovely breakfast sat cold and untouched on the tray.

  The sound of birds attracted her to the window. The view was certainly pretty. Just outside, a wooden framework supported a rambling bush rose. It was covered in pink blooms like the one on the tray. The rose created a living frame to the garden, which was edged by a wire fence signalling the start of the curving rows of vines, bursting with bright green leaves and sloping away to a screen of trees. As she studied the vista before her, Keely noticed something glinting among the trees. She peered, trying to work out what it was. The sun’s rays reached the trees and she realised the glinting patches were water. This must be the river Euan had spoken about.

  A movement on the lawn made her look down again to a group of hen-like birds pecking their way across the yard. They had black-and-white feathers, which gave them a speckled appearance. She counted six in the group.

  In the distance she heard a motorbike, and closer she saw the top of Euan’s head moving between the vines, coming back towards the house. She turned to collect her things then stopped at the spectacle before her. The large expanse of wall above the bed, stretching high up to the raked ceiling, was covered with a magnificent wall hanging. Keely was immediately taken by its beauty. She’d been so tired and in so much pain the night before she’d not taken in her surroundings.

  The hanging was predominantly green, every shade of green, but there were many tiny touches of other colours. Pretty pinks peeped out close to the edges, then further in, she saw hints of mauve and purple and splashes of yellow and orange. It was a beautifully crafted patchwork. She thought about taking a picture of it then remembered she didn’t have her phone. She’d definitely have to do something about getting a new one today.

  She went closer to the hanging and examined the fine detail that made up the bigger picture. Among the strips of fabric there were beautiful threads and delicate beads. Hours of work must have gone into making it. She looked back towards the window. Whoever had created the hanging had cherished the view from this room and cleverly reproduced it.

  * * *

  Flynn revved the throttle on his bike and roared up the drive. His father’s explanation, that the woman in his bed was a guest recuperating from an operation, only infuriated him more. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the story, but now he’d behaved like an idiot in front of a stranger. He berated himself for it. He was usually so calm, in control; he hated the fact that his temper had got the better of him.

  Flynn slowed at the gate and stopped to look again at the freshly painted sign. Euan hadn’t been happy about that, or the newly gravelled driveway, and there were several other things he didn’t know about yet. Flynn revved the bike again and pulled out onto the road. Too bad, someone had to face the future and make decisions. While Euan had been off finding himself, Flynn had been left behind to deal with reality, again.

  Of course, the ever-reliable Hugh was always there. His skills with the vines were indispensable, and Maggie tried to help. Flynn respected her opinion and she did own a small share but, ultimately, the business belonged to him and his father. They should be planning together for the future.

  Euan wanted to hold on to the past and keep Levallier Dell as a quaint little winery with a select clientele. Flynn knew it wasn’t enough anymore. Margaret River had any number of wineries now. The competition was stiff and Levallier Dell needed to make changes to survive. He had his own ideas on that but Euan wasn’t interested.

  He eased back on the throttle as he approached the bitumen road ahead. He was tired. Sick of spending his nights alone at the house. The night before he’d gone out with some mates and camped overnight at their place. They’d drunk a fair bit and it had hardly seemed any time between crawling into bed and getting up to come home and check on things this morning. Why had he bothered? He could still be at his mates’ place, asleep.

  He hesitated at the crossroads. The rest of the blokes would still be sleeping. Somehow the thought of the messy bachelor flat didn’t appeal but Anna McPherson would have the coffee made and her first batch of scones out of the oven. He’d go into Margaret River and have breakfast with the McPhersons; they were always good company.

  He set off towards town, passing a police car going in the other direction. He wondered briefly where they were heading. Born and raised here, he knew most people in the district. In a rural community nothing much went on that wasn’t soon common knowledge. His stomach gurgled, reminding him of where he was heading. He turned his concentration to the road and images of Anna’s scones.

  * * *

  Keely looked up from her cup of tea at the sound of the sliding door. She had disposed of the cold breakfast, poured herself a fresh cup of tea and made up her mind to ask Euan to drop her into town. She was feeling much better, if still a bit sore, but she could manage on her own.

  Euan stepped inside and the phone began to ring before either of them could speak. He picked up the handpiece from its cradle on the wall over the breakfast bench.

  “Hello.”

  Keely could hear the babble of a woman’s voice.

  “Hang on, Maggie,” Euan said. “Say that again.”

  He listened, then glanced at Keely with a bemused smile. She looked down at her cup. There was something about that smile that always unsettled her.

  “Are you sure you haven’t misunderstood?” he asked.

  Keely could hear the voice of his sister raise an octave as she replied.

  “Okay, okay.” Euan patted the air as if it were his sister’s shoulders. “We’ll sort it out. It’s all some kind of misunderstanding.”

  He listened again.

  “Yes, alright,” he said. “I promise I’ll ring back later and let you know. Bye.” He replaced the phone and turned to Keely. “Looks like we might have some sorting out to do.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  Euan poured himself a cup of tea. “It seems you’ve been reported as a missing person.”

  “What?” Keely watched him carefully, expecting a teasing smile to collapse his face into wrinkles, but it didn’t come.

  “The police have been to Maggie’s and she’s told them where you are and that I haven’t abducted you but…” The sound of a vehicle pulling up outside made them both look up. Euan walked to the window and peered out. “You’ll be able to explain it yourself. That’s the local police arriving now.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “So, what do you think of my muffins?”

  Flynn had been oblivious to his surroundings. The early-morning confrontation with his father was still playing over in his mind. Sean’s question and the gentle thump on his shoulder that went with it brought him back to the bustle of the McPhersons’ kitchen. He picked up the half-eaten apple and cinnamon muffin from the plate and took another bite.

  “Pretty darn good.” He acknowledged the young man watching him closely across the table, before taking another sip of his coffee. “With the choice of your mother’s scones or your muffins, no wonder you’ve been busy.” Flynn nodded towards the doorway where they could hear the sounds of Anna McPherson and her daughter, Megan, serving customers in the little cafe. It was only nine o’clock but they opened at eight and already they’d had a constant stream of clientele, drawn in by the enticing smells from Anna’s Kitchen.

  “We’ve been flat out.” Sean beamed. “The tourists
have come in their droves these holidays.”

  “You’ll be glad to get back to school for a rest.”

  “He’s nearly finished, then it’s me who will be getting the rest.” Anna buzzed through the door from the shop and turned her quick eyes to the huge oven. “Are you watching those pies, Sean?”

  “They’re fine, Mum. Sit down and drink your tea with Flynn. I’m off to the supermarket for the supplies and Megan can mind the shop.”

  “Yes, sir.” Anna gave a mock salute but she sat down all the same and watched her youngest brush himself off and head out the back door.

  “He’s a good cook, Anna,” Flynn said, picking up the last piece of muffin.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without him, especially these last few years. And he wants to continue with it. All of my children have been capable in the kitchen but Sean has his heart set on training as a chef.”

  Flynn noted the glowing look on Anna’s face. She was proud of all five of her offspring. Sean, the youngest, had been a baby when her husband had died in a car accident. Anna was a good cook and had used her talents to make enough money to raise her children. Eventually, she’d turned the front of her cottage into a cafe located just off the main drag, and it was popular with the tourists as well as the locals.

  “Will that mean going to Perth?”

  “Probably.”

  “You’ll miss him.”

  “That I will but he’ll be back regularly. He has grand plans for our little cafe.” Anna arched her back and rubbed her strong hands across her neck. “I’d be glad if one of my children wanted to take over.”

  Flynn watched her swallow some of her tea. His mother, Lucy, and Anna had been good friends and the McPherson children had been like Flynn’s brothers and sisters. They’d all gone to school together, played together, got into mischief together. Flynn had spent a lot of time in this kitchen. Over the years it had been modified to make it into a working cafe kitchen but the big wooden table of his childhood still remained the focal point. There had been many meals and cuppas and chats around this table.

  The McPhersons had remained the constant for Flynn after the devastation of his mother’s death. Euan had withdrawn from the world and it had been Anna McPherson who had made sure that the teenage Flynn had what he needed for school, provided their food and even cleaned the house for a while.

  The older McPherson children had all moved away for uni and work, around the same time as Flynn. Megan, who was a bit older than him, had returned and married a local dairy farmer but the only one of Anna’s offspring living at home now was Sean, who was still at school.

  Anna put down her cup. “What’s happening your way? You mentioned Euan’s home and he’s brought a guest. You should all come over for a meal.”

  “I don’t know about…I don’t know how long she’s staying.” Flynn studied the dregs in his coffee cup.

  “She! Don’t tell me your father has found himself a decent woman at last—”

  “She’s not that kind of woman,” Flynn cut in.

  Anna raised her eyebrows.

  “I’ve only met her once.” He frowned as he recalled the sight of the young woman in his father’s bed. “I think she’s a tourist.”

  “That’d be Euan. He often collects strays.”

  “He said she’s been sick or something. Just staying to recuperate. I’m not sure…”

  Anna studied him closely. “Oh, well. It doesn’t matter. Any excuse for a get-together. How about Sunday night? We’ll have a roast. You and Euan come and if his lady friend is still there she’s welcome.” The bell rang from the shop. Anna groaned and rose to her feet. “Megan must be busy again. Tourists get about earlier and earlier these days and they’re always hungry for good home cooking.” She washed her hands and pointed to the plate on the table. “You help yourself to another cuppa and some muffins.”

  “I’d better get back to work. I can’t avoid it forever.”

  Once more Anna’s look was intense. She patted Flynn’s shoulder. “You and Euan will have lots to talk about. He’s probably done lots of thinking while he’s been away. He might need time to settle back in. You bring him over for Sunday-night roast and we’ll have a good catch-up.”

  * * *

  Keely sat on the couch forlornly studying her hands while Euan slid the door shut behind the departing police. What an idiot she’d been. If only she’d rung her parents from the hospital. The missing phone and wallet, minus its contents, had been found somewhere along the highway between Perth and Bunbury. The finder had rung the home number they’d found in her wallet, hoping for a reward. Evidently, her panic-stricken parents had been frantic and reported her as a missing person.

  The two local police, a man and a woman, had been slightly amused. They obviously knew Euan and didn’t have him pegged as an abductor but, all the same, they had asked her to explain what had happened from the time of her arrival in Perth. She’d gone back over everything. They’d wanted to know Marty and his mates’ names and whereabouts but she knew only their first names and that they’d said they were heading south.

  When she’d got to the part about having her bag stolen she’d told the policeman, who was the one making the notes, that she’d reported it. She’d explained that her parents weren’t expecting to hear from her again for a few days and she hadn’t wanted to worry them. Euan had remained sitting at the table silently, only speaking if the police asked him a direct question, but she had noticed him looking at her quizzically when she’d mentioned not wanting to worry her parents.

  The policeman had checked his notes and said it had taken a while to connect her report of the stolen items to that of her parents’ missing-person report. There’d been an outage in the system and a backlog of entries.

  The woman had looked at her sagely. “It would have been much easier all round if you’d let your parents know what was happening from the hospital,” she’d said.

  Keely had mumbled an apology. She felt like a seven-year-old instead of a twenty-seven-year-old. Would she ever be able to stand on her own two feet? She hadn’t rung her parents so she didn’t have to deal with their reaction to the theft and her operation and now it had caused a huge chain reaction, making everything worse.

  The policewoman gave her a sympathetic look. “We’re just doing our job,” she said. “Glad to see you’re okay but you need to ring your parents, which I suggest you do straight away. And you’ll need to attend Bunbury Police Station with photo ID to collect your property.”

  “Why Bunbury?” Euan had asked.

  “The person who found it took it on to their home town.”

  “My photo ID’s in the wallet and on the phone,” Keely had said.

  “Just take yourself in then.” The policeman had shut his notebook. “We’ll leave you in Euan’s care and report back to the Perth office.”

  Now Keely forced herself to look up as Euan turned away from the door. She went to speak but he cut her off.

  “You use the phone here to ring your parents. I’ll be back in a minute.” He crossed the room and went through the door that led to the rest of the house, shutting it firmly behind him.

  Keely sat staring at the phone on the wall. She wasn’t looking forward to making the call. Perhaps her father would answer. He was much easier to explain things to than her mother.

  Ten minutes later Euan returned and Keely was still sitting on the couch.

  “Couldn’t you contact them?” he asked.

  “Yes, I got through.” She kept her head lowered, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. Her mother had fired frantic questions at her and protested at Keely’s lack of concern for them in not ringing. They were all so worried about her, she’d said. Keely had barely had a chance to get a word in until her mother had suggested she wanted to jump on the next plane. Then Keely had protested, reiterating that she was safe, and made an excuse she was due to take her pain relief.

  “Mum’s going to ring me back tonight. I hope you don
’t mind. I’ve given her your number so I’ll be staying one more night.”

  Euan stopped in front of her. “I thought you’d stay for several days…in fact, as long as you like.”

  The tears rolled down Keely’s cheeks and she bit her lip, annoyed at her weakness.

  “You poor thing.” He sat on the couch beside her. “You’ve had a rough time. You probably need your mother right now.”

  His kindness only made Keely feel worse. A loud sob escaped from her lips.

  Euan put his arm around her and hugged her tight. “I’m not very good at being a mother but you’re most welcome here.” He patted her arm. “If you can put up with a strange old boy like me,” he said.

  Keely looked up at his wrinkly smile and forced a smile onto her own face.

  “Thanks, Euan,” she said. “You’ve already been a big help.”

  Over his shoulder, she was surprised to see Flynn watching them through the glass. She went to speak but he walked away.

  CHAPTER 8

  “These vines are our backbone. We’ve had some excellent results from all our varieties but these are our chardonnay grapes, from which we produce our finest wine.”

  Keely followed the direction of Euan’s outstretched arm, looking across the rows of vines extending over the gentle slope before them. They’d been on a short walking tour to various vantage points on the property with Euan naming the different grapes they grew and the wine they made from them. Rows of trellised vines stretched away to distant trees and once again she glimpsed patches glinting in the sun that revealed the river edging its way along the bottom of the slope.

  She turned back to study him. This morning he had a battered broad-brimmed hat on his head shadowing the freckles and creases of his face as he stared off into the distance. Once again she was reminded of her first impression of him as scarecrow-like. Watching him survey the vines in front of him, she knew his statement about his chardonnay wasn’t a boast, more a satisfied acknowledgement of the facts.