Angel's Share

by Kayte Nunn

‘Well, me either,’ said Rose blithely, ‘but you’ve got to say, he’s pretty easy on the eye. He’s a nice guy too – his heart’s in the right place, even if he does run a mile from anyone who tries to get serious about him. Anyway, I’ll let you wake up properly. Is there anything else you think you might need?’

  ‘No, I’m good, thanks. And thanks for the tea,’ said Mattie.

  ‘Least I can do.’ Rose waved as she left.

  Later, sitting out on the back verandah with Leo’s dog, Barnsie, resting his nose on her good foot, Mattie looked out at the valley. Vines stretched for miles, and in the distance she could see the Shingle Road. She knew that further along was Windsong, though she couldn’t see it from Kalkari. Her thoughts briefly flickered to Charlie Drummond. When she’d seen Thommo at Luisa’s party, she’d thought for a heart-stopping moment that it was his twin. She knew she’d eventually run into him, but reminded herself that after the fiasco with Johnny she’d sworn off getting involved with anyone again; the heartache and the inevitable let-down weren’t worth it. Besides, it had been a teenage crush, and those days were long over. He was probably balding with a beer gut by now.

  The sky was bluer than she could ever remember seeing it, and the trees dotted across the valley were a soft khaki camouflage. The soothing morning warble of magpies calling to each other was the only sound. It was still shockingly quiet after the constant, all-pervasive rumble of London traffic. A light wind blew through the leaves, dappling the sunlight as it fell on the verandah and bringing with it the spicy scent of eucalyptus. It wasn’t too stinking hot yet, but she could already feel the sun’s warmth sinking into her bones.

  It had taken more energy than she had realised to travel the short distance from the barn to the house. Mark – or probably Rose – had organised a pair of crutches for her, and she’d managed a limping hop with one under her good arm. Somewhat miraculously, she hadn’t stacked it on the way there.

  Now, sitting in silence with the prospect of endless days of nothing in front of her, she couldn’t staunch the feeling of utter desolation. Here she was, back in the place she’d been so anxious to get away from. This wasn’t what her life was supposed to look like. She wasn’t someone who usually depended on others to help her. She was the strong one, the capable one. She’d managed to keep her thoughts at bay while she was in London, barely able to do more than sleep and get to her doctor’s appointments, and dwell on how angry and sad she still was about Johnny. Now the realisation that she had nearly died in the avalanche hit her with full force. Her breathing started to speed up as she relived the sickening tumbling feeling. Oh Christ. Was she having a panic attack? Matilda Cameron, you don’t have panic attacks, she told herself sternly. She tried her best to breathe slowly and calmly and eventually the feeling subsided. Instead, a tear rolled down her face and she dashed it angrily away. ‘And you can shut up!’ she shouted at a kookaburra, cackling from its perch high in the peppercorn tree above her.

  Gazing unseeingly out to the hills, lost in thoughts of the life she’d left behind in London, she didn’t notice a figure coming around the side of the house until she heard the sound of boots, heavy on the flagstones.

  ‘Matilda! How’re you doing?’

  It was Jake. She rubbed her eyes.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, catching sight of her miserable expression. ‘What’s up? Are you in pain? Is your leg hurting?’

  ‘Feeling like a fish out of water, if you must know.’ She couldn’t believe she was admitting it to him. ‘It’s pretty bloody strange to be here, actually. It’s so familiar, but then it’s not. I’m beginning to think I might have made a big mistake coming back.’

  ‘Oh, mate,’ he sympathised. ‘You’ve got every right to feel out of sorts, and I’m sure a long flight and turning up here in the middle of a party yesterday didn’t help.’

  ‘You don’t understand. I never cry,’ she protested, glaring at him as if he were responsible.

  ‘Okay,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Well, that’s not strictly true,’ she admitted. ‘But before all this I hadn’t cried since I fell off Shakira and broke my wrist when I was thirteen.’

  Jake looked at her, incredulous. ‘Shakira? You had a horse named Shakira?’

  ‘I was thirteen!’ she said indignantly.

  ‘Oh well, that explains it,’ he said, a smirk still on his face. He kneeled down beside her and took her hand, serious again. ‘It’ll get better. You might not think that right now, but it will. You’ve just got to take time to heal. Don’t rush it.’

  ‘Thanks for the pep talk.’ She gave him the semblance of a smile. ‘I’m sure you’re here for more important things than to cheer up a sad sack like me though. Rose said you and Mark were out in the Assignation block.’

  ‘He needed some records from the winery, and I volunteered to come and collect them. Glad I did,’ he said, giving her a grin. ‘Listen, some of us are getting together at the pub on Friday – there’s a new band on. They’re supposed to be halfway bearable. Will you come?’ Mattie began to shake her head. ‘Come on, I promise you’ll enjoy yourself,’ he said.

  ‘Oh really? How’s that then?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when we get to the pub.’ His eyes proclaimed innocence, but the mouth was sensuous and knowing. She wasn’t born yesterday.

  ‘Nice try,’ she retorted.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said. ‘And I’m not taking no for an answer, I’m afraid. Pick you up at seven.’ And with that he jumped off the verandah and loped around the side of the house towards the winery, leaving Mattie mouthing her objections to the kookaburra once more.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The pub was buzzing. Friday night in the valley meant that almost everyone of legal drinking age gathered at one or other of Eumeralla’s two watering holes to sink a few cold ones, have a yarn and shake the dust off the working week. Jake had been true to his word and turned up on the dot of seven, taking no notice of her protests as he lifted her into his arms as if she weighed little more than a case of wine. ‘No hopping for you tonight, sweetheart,’ he’d commanded. Mark had raised a concerned eyebrow but Rose had given her an encouraging smile as Jake carried her out the door.

  Mattie was feeling marginally less grim than she had when she first arrived. She and Rose had called in at the doctor’s surgery earlier in the week and picked up the details of the local physio, and the jet lag was abating. Most afternoons she’d napped on the sofa in the barn and there’d been no more nightmares since her first night home. Really, she thought, as her natural optimism reasserted itself, it was probably lack of sleep as much as anything that had made her quite so blue.

  ‘What’ll it be, Mattie?’ Jake’s voice brought her back to the roar of conversation in the pub.

  ‘Beer, thanks. My round next.’

  Astrid was there with Thommo. Apart from briefly spotting him at Luisa’s birthday party, Mattie hadn’t seen him in more than ten years and was surprised by how much he’d grown up, blurting out as much before she could stop herself.

  ‘Well, becoming a father will do that to you, hey?’ Thommo said proudly, giving Astrid a squeeze. ‘Have you seen the little man? Isn’t he the greatest?’

  ‘Chip off the old block,’ she assured him. ‘The spitting image.’

  Jake returned with their drinks and then introduced her to Deano and Mick, winemakers at Lilybells, the winery that had once belonged to Mattie’s parents. It was where she and Mark had grown up. She quizzed the two men on what it was like now, and who lived at the main house.

  ‘Leased to the Davis family, you know, over at Bellbirds. Rumour has it they’re going to turn it into some sort of fancy health retreat,’ said Deano.

  ‘Yeah, with wine thrown in!’ joked Mick.

  Mattie looked incredulous.

  ‘No, really, they plan to use the must – the leftover grape skins – as a treatment,’ said Deano. ‘We’re working out how much we can charge ’em for it,’ he guffawed. />
  Mattie grinned back at him. It was good to be out, especially with people who didn’t know too much about what had happened to her in the last couple of months. It was also surprisingly enjoyable to be in an Aussie pub for a change, rather than a fancy wine bar. Somehow she felt far more at ease, more like the person she had once been – not the stressed-out, high-powered media maven, but just Mattie, a girl from the valley having a beer with her mates on a Friday night. She’d almost forgotten how that felt.

  ‘So, Jake planning on getting you legless then?’ asked Thommo later, while Jake was at the bar again. ‘I see he’s already made a start – ha, ha!’

  She rolled her eyes.

  ‘You’d better watch out for him, you know, Tilly. He’s a heartbreaker.’ Thommo’s tone held a paternal warning.

  ‘Funny, you’re not the only one to mention that. And it’s Mattie these days, not Tilly,’ she said, a sharpness to her voice. She wasn’t used to being patronised, however well meaning it was.

  Just then she saw another familiar face appear at the door.

  Her heart raced, just as it had when she’d thought she’d seen him at Luisa’s party.

  Charlie.

  Thommo had been the reliable brother, the safe bet, but Charlie was the one who made everything seem more exciting merely by being there. Accepter of dares. Breaker of rules. Creator of mayhem and mischief. The boy most likely to get into trouble but equally as likely to charm his way out of it.

  Mattie remembered a dance at the Eumeralla town hall the summer she turned fifteen. She’d begged her dad to let her go, and he’d eventually relented. Mark had dropped her off. Mum had persuaded her out of her usual cut-offs and ratty t-shirt and into a dress. She’d brushed her hair until it gleamed like polished silky oak, taming its usual wild tangle. The stiff material of the dress scratched the back of her legs and she felt strangely exposed, though it covered her quite modestly. But she forgot all of that as soon as she laid eyes on Charlie. With his merry smile and happy-go-lucky charm, he was the golden boy in the room, surrounded by a group of girls a few years older and far more sophisticated than her. He looked up as she walked into the room and caught her eye. In the instant he smiled at her, she was lost, head over heels. Not that she’d ever admitted it to anyone.

  He’d twirled her around the room in one dance at the end of the evening – probably more out of obligation than anything else, she thought later. She’d never forgotten the feeling of being held in his arms, of his skin, almost burning to the touch, under his shirt, the warm, spicy maleness of him. This sudden and secret passion – she was far too shy to ever approach him and let him know how she felt – was a constant ache, an unfulfilled wanting that accompanied the rest of her teens. No one else had ever come close. Not even Johnny, she realised with a shock.

  ‘Little Tilly Cameron!’ Larger than life, he strode across the room and leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek. She was immediately overwhelmed by the almost forgotten smell of clean earth and cedar, so familiar it made her catch her breath.

  ‘Hello, Charlie.’ He’d filled out, his shoulders were broader, his hips still lean, his voice a tone deeper, laughter lines fanning out from eyes as blue as her mother’s hydrangeas. The promise of youth had been gloriously realised. No sign of a paunch or receding hairline, dammit. He was even more attractive than she remembered. She gave herself a mental shake. What was she thinking? Zero romantic involvements for the foreseeable future, not even a fling, she reminded herself. In any case, Charlie was most likely married with a couple of kids by now.

  ‘So the rumours were true.’ His teeth, strong and white, gleamed as he smiled at her. ‘You are back in the valley. What happened here then?’ he said, pointing to her leg, which was resting on a chair.

  ‘She had a little tussle with an avalanche,’ said Jake, moving to stand by her.

  ‘I’d heard something. An avalanche. Bloody oath!’ He gave a long whistle. ‘You always were fearless, Tilly.’

  She felt a small thrill that he remembered her nickname. ‘It’s actually Mattie these days.’

  ‘Okay, Mattie, then. Well, I’m glad you’re still in one piece. The girl who took on an avalanche and won – that’s quite a story.’

  ‘Almost one piece,’ she replied, indicating her arm in its sling and the cast on her leg.

  ‘You couldn’t be in a better place to recuperate, darling. Welcome back.’

  ‘We’ll take good care of her,’ replied Jake.

  Mattie frowned. Why was Jake suddenly behaving like a caveman? He had been so sweet to her earlier in the week, and it was nice of him to take her out, but he needed to tone it down.

  Charlie didn’t seem to notice. ‘Another drink?’ he asked, indicating her half-empty glass.

  She shook her head. Even half a beer had made her woozy. He wandered off to the bar, hailing a friend across the room, and Mattie, still a little shaken after seeing Charlie for the first time after so long, turned to Thommo. ‘So how have things been?’ she asked him.

  ‘Oh, pretty good. You know, running Dad’s place with him and Charlie has its moments, but for the most part we rub along fairly well. Dad’s getting better at taking his hands off the wheel.’ He laughed, his golden curls catching the light.

  ‘Are you both still riding?’ she asked, remembering again the horse trials they’d often competed in as teenagers.

  ‘Nah. Not really enough time for that these days. Certainly not seriously. Winery takes up most of my energy. I still get out on the weekends though. You should come with me some time. Astrid won’t mind.’

  Mattie looked at him incredulously and then down at her leg. ‘You think?’

  ‘Well, not straight away, obviously. How long will you be in that thing?’

  ‘At least another month. And then I don’t think I’ll be up to much after that. I’ve got to get this scar on my face seen to as well.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a good-un,’ said Thommo. The Drummond boys were nothing if not blunt. Mattie didn’t mind; actually, she realised, it was refreshing.

  ‘I think I might have lost my taste for adventure somehow,’ she added.

  ‘Aw, come on. That’s not the Tilly we remember.’

  ‘So how is fatherhood?’ she said, not wanting to continue reminiscing.

  Thommo’s eyes softened. ‘Oh, the little bloke? He’s a bloody champion. Never thought I’d settle down so quick, but I just love it. Astrid’s such a great mum too.’

  ‘I suppose Charlie’s married by now?’ she asked carefully.

  ‘Nup,’ said Thommo. ‘Nearly though.’ Mattie felt a pang of disappointment. Lucky girl, whoever she was.

  ‘Got pretty serious about a girl last year; they were engaged. French chick by the name of Marie-Claire. Or Murray Cod, as we liked to call her.’ He chuckled into his glass.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mattie, ‘were engaged?’

  ‘Charlie met her when he was in Bordeaux. Couldn’t persuade her to come over here, though I think they’re still in touch – I sometimes hear him talking in French late into the night. Took us all by surprise though.’

  ‘What, that it didn’t work out?’

  ‘Nah, that he got serious about a girl in the first place – you remember what he’s like.’

  Jake interrupted their conversation, asking Thommo an obscure question about canopy management, while at the same time putting a proprietary arm around Mattie. She moved slightly away from him; she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Granted, he was certainly gorgeous, but she wasn’t in the slightest bit interested. Men brought nothing but trouble, even Charlie. Especially Charlie, she warned herself.

  She felt suddenly exhausted, the beginnings of a headache pressing at her temples.

  As she was finishing her beer, the band began to tune up. She leaned across to shout in Jake’s ear. ‘I’m really sorry, but I don’t feel like staying. Jet lag’s caught up with me.’

  He looked crestfallen for a moment but recovered himself quickly. ‘Sure. Let
me say goodbye to a couple of people first.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s alright,’ she reassured him. ‘You don’t have to worry about taking me home. Thommo and Astrid said they were leaving early and have offered me a lift.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Well, let me at least carry you to the car.’

  ‘Oh no, not in front of everyone,’ she pleaded.

  He gave her a stern look.

  ‘Okay, let me lean on your arm until we get outside. I don’t want the whole pub gawping at me,’ she relented.

  ‘Whatever you say, princess.’

  She caught sight of Charlie across the pub. He appeared to be watching her intently. Noticing her leaving, he gave her a salute, a serious expression on his face. She felt an unexpected heat rise within her and looked away quickly.

  Mattie thought back to the last time she’d seen Charlie before she left the valley. She was seventeen and in her final year at school and he was home from uni for the winter holidays. It was the midwinter Eumeralla district horse trials. The ground was frozen solid, the mud in ruts of iron. Rain fell in icy rods. Anyone who came off would be certain of a bruising at the very least, more likely a trip to hospital. There were mutterings as to whether it was even safe to go ahead.

  Mattie was chilled to the bone, not sure if her teeth were chattering with nerves or the cold, but Shakira flew over the high fences, though still managing to scare her witless as she hung on for dear life. Astonished that she hadn’t fallen off, especially after the last fence, which had loomed ominously over her and Shakira’s heads, Mattie galloped to the finish in a near-record time. She barely noticed that her jodhpurs and jacket were sodden and heavy with rain. Anyone who had anything to do with horses in the valley was there, Charlie included. He had started several places before her and was in the collecting ring, gently walking his horse around, its flanks steaming in the frigid air as Mattie came in.

  Now the course was behind her, her earlier fear transformed into triumph and she slid down from her saddle and crowed her success. ‘I might have even beaten you, Charlie Drummond!’ she cried.