Angel's Share

by Kayte Nunn

  ‘Is there a point to this story?’ asked Mattie.

  ‘Look, what I’m trying to say is that sometimes, when the wind isn’t blowing your way, you have to adjust your sails, and that it’s not the end of the world. Actually, it can even turn out better than you’d expected.’

  Mattie looked at him curiously. ‘Charlie Drummond. Are you getting wise in your old age?’

  He threw his head back and laughed. Mattie looked hungrily again at the full parted lips, the strong white teeth. He looked so vital and strong, his zest for life practically radiating off his skin. It was exciting just to be around him; the air he moved through seemed somehow clearer, charged with possibility.

  ‘I’m doing my best not to,’ he said, once his mirth was under control. ‘Come on then. Let’s go and find you some wheels.’

  A few minutes later they pulled up outside a dilapidated weatherboard cottage. There were a number of cars in various states of disrepair parked in the paddock behind it. Were they on a fool’s errand? The used car market in the Shingle Valley wasn’t exactly extensive, but this didn’t look at all promising. She hoped Charlie knew what he was doing.

  Crash appeared at the front door and ambled over to meet them. He indicated a silver hatchback that – thank God, Mattie thought – at least had four inflated tyres and no signs of rust. Charlie popped the bonnet, umming and ahhing as he checked the engine over. Mattie peered inside, though truth be told she didn’t know exactly what to look for. After Charlie had finished his inspection and seemed to be satisfied, she took it for a test drive up and down the Eumeralla Road. The engine ran smoothly and she couldn’t see anything obviously wrong with it.

  ‘What did you say you wanted for it, mate?’ asked Charlie when they returned.

  ‘Five grand,’ said Crash, rubbing the goatee on his chin.

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  ‘How do you figure that then?’

  ‘We’ve only got four to spend.’

  Mattie blinked. She could have stretched to five and a half and Charlie knew that; they’d discussed it on the way there.

  Crash looked reluctant. ‘Look, I’m only selling it ’cause Mum doesn’t drive it any more.’ He paused, considering the offer. ‘Okay, because it’s you, Charlie, and seeing it’s for your girlfriend. Done.’

  Charlie looked at Mattie, his eyes silently warning her not to contradict Crash’s assumption. ‘Sweet,’ he said. ‘Right, Mattie, do you want to drive it home?’

  ‘You bet!’ She was itching to get behind the wheel of a car again.

  Once they’d sorted out the paperwork and she’d handed over a cheque, Mattie prepared to leave. She buckled up, pleased to see that the petrol gauge was showing three-quarters full. She’d burned through most of her meagre savings when she was in hospital in London, and buying the car pretty much cleaned her out. Back in London, she’d been too busy having fun, eating at expensive restaurants with Johnny, enjoying her first taste of financial freedom after years as an impoverished student, to think too much about her future. Now she was forced to think carefully about every purchase. It might not have been the smartest move to spend her last few thousand on a car, but somehow it felt like the right one.

  ‘I’ll follow you back to Kalkari,’ Charlie said. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘In case of what? Do you think the car won’t make it?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘We’ll soon see.’

  He might be gorgeous, but his laidback attitude was infuriating sometimes. ‘I’ll hold you responsible if it doesn’t,’ she said, smiling to show she was only partly serious. ‘But thanks,’ she added. ‘For saving me a grand when you knew I could have paid more.’

  ‘Crash has been trying to sell this thing for months. And he also owed me a favour.’

  ‘Well, thanks anyway. I appreciate it.’

  ‘At your service, madam,’ he said with a mock bow and a wink, smiling at her so winningly that Mattie felt butterflies mass in her stomach.

  Impulsively, she reached over and kissed him on the cheek, inhaling as she got close to him. ‘You’re a mate, Charlie,’ she said, doing her best not to let him see her blush.

  A beat of silence.

  ‘Don’t suppose you fancy catching up for dinner on Saturday?’ he said, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘There’s a new place I’ve been meaning to try out.’

  Heat really did flame her cheeks this time. She needed to get a grip – she was behaving like a nervous schoolgirl. Was he asking her out? On a date? Something very like happiness flared through her, chased by uncertainty as she remembered her resolve to steer clear of anything remotely romantic. He was probably being kind, feeling sorry for her.

  ‘Um, yeah, sure, that’d be nice,’ she was surprised to hear herself saying. ‘I’ll shout you a beer for helping me with this.’

  ‘Absolutely unnecessary, but okey doke. I’ll pick you up at seven. Now, let’s get going before my brother notices how long I’ve been away.’ He sauntered over to his car, whistling a tune. She could have sworn he had even more of a spring in his step than usual.

  The drive home was uneventful. Charlie followed her as far as Kalkari, and Mattie waved a hand in farewell as she turned up the drive. She spent the rest of the afternoon in the barn, determinedly putting thoughts of their prospective dinner out of her head. She was working on the logo for Bellbirds, refining the design she’d sketched up for Amanda, and was about to email her the files for approval when she saw a new message in her inbox.

  Cara.

  She’d heard from her friend only occasionally in the weeks since she’d been in Australia and had missed her terribly – no one else could make her snort with laughter the way Cara did. It seemed she had been up to her ears in shoots for a fashion client and was complaining that Bianca expected the impossible. Six girls, two guys and eight different locations – can you even believe it? she wrote to Mattie. To add to her stress, Cara’s assistant had quit a week into the project, leaving Cara no time to find a replacement. She said she couldn’t cope. And wasn’t available to work past 6pm. Bloody Gen Y slacker. Mattie could practically hear steam coming from Cara’s ears through the email. Now was perhaps not the time to remind her that she was almost of Gen Y vintage herself. Cara also said that the new creative director, Mattie’s replacement, was on the ball and helping to make things run smoothly.

  Cara’s news gave Mattie another pang of longing for her old life. She’d been feeling more positive than she had in weeks, what with her new car, having a bit of creative work to focus on, and even the prospect of going out on a date with Charlie, though she was still in two minds as to whether it was a good idea or not. But hearing from her friend and all the goings-on in London took some of the wind out of her sails.

  Mattie heard her mum’s voice in her head. No use crying over spilt milk. Sighing, she logged out of her email and closed the laptop. She’d reply to Cara when she was in a better frame of mind and actually had something of interest to report.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Mattie barely tasted the food in front of her. Not that there was anything wrong with it. No, she loved a steak as much as the next girl, and the tender fillet was a fine example. It was the person she was sitting opposite, in a back booth at Porter House in New Bridgeton, who was the cause of her lack of appetite.

  Charlie had arrived, right on time, earlier that evening to pick her up. She’d spent far too long fiddling with her hair, which had grown as shaggy and wild as it had been when she was a girl, before finally giving up. She was self-conscious about the scar on her cheek, but had to admit it was fading with every passing week. Who knew, Bianca’s cream might just have worked.

  He wouldn’t tell her where exactly they were going. ‘Don’t you like surprises?’ he’d said as they got in the car. Mattie, shifting a raft of tasting notes and labels out of the front seat, grumbled, ‘I usually prefer to know exactly what’s going on, I’m afraid.’

  Charlie laughed. ‘Well, hope
fully you won’t be disappointed.’

  She wasn’t. The restaurant was dimly lit, with dark timber walls and a long bar, behind which a bearded barman whirled and shook and stirred fancy-looking cocktails. She barely registered the amazing smells coming from the kitchen, but she noticed the tang of Charlie’s aftershave as he leaned across to usher her into the booth.

  ‘This is all a bit sophisticated for the valley, isn’t it?’ she asked as they sipped on a thirst-quenching and utterly delicious blend of gin, paperbark-smoked grenadine and plum nectar spiked with orange bitters. ‘Not that it isn’t delicious,’ she added quickly.

  ‘Times have changed, Matilda Cameron. The valley’s not the backwater you think it is,’ he teased. ‘Anyway, I thought we’d go somewhere where we won’t be interrupted.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ she said, savouring the cocktail and agreeing with him. ‘Can’t fault that reasoning.’

  ‘So, Mattie …’

  She looked up from her drink and found his gaze on her. Looking into his twinkling blue eyes, her throat went dry. She licked her lips, tasting the sweetness from the cocktail as desire swirled through her like smoke, sparking a heat in her belly. He reached for her hand, his thumb lazily stroking her palm, turning it over as if to read her future. Moments passed. The noise of the restaurant went on around them, but they might as well have been in a world of their own. She cleared her throat, trying to get a grip on herself. ‘Yes?’

  ‘The lamb or the beef?’ Charlie said, relinquishing her hand.

  She burst out laughing, the tension of the moment dissolved.

  When their orders had been dispatched, he started to tell her of his plans for Windsong and what it was like to work with his father and brother, the challenges of getting his father to agree to new methods. What it had been like to return to the family business after spending so much time in France. ‘Probably fairly similar to your own experience,’ he said.

  Mattie struggled to concentrate on his words, noticing instead the way he used his hands as he spoke, how his eyebrows wiggled when he wanted to emphasise a point. The warmth and humour and intelligence that sparkled in his eyes.

  She managed only about half of her steak before admitting defeat, but Charlie, who’d not left a scrap, ordered dessert – something gooey and chocolatey, from the looks of the plate that was delivered to their table several minutes later. ‘Here, you have to try this,’ he said, offering her a bite. The intimacy of the gesture only served to make her think of other things she’d like to taste … Mattie was finding it harder and harder to focus on their conversation, her imagination running wild.

  It was getting late by the time they’d finished. After the initial heart-stopping silence, they’d not ceased chatting, finding much in common in the time they’d both spent away from the valley, and living in Europe. She glanced at her watch, surprised by how quickly the evening had flown.

  Charlie noticed and signalled for the bill. ‘Come on then, hopalong. Let’s get you home.’

  The drive back to Kalkari went all too quickly, and Mattie found herself wishing the evening wasn’t over. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed herself so much, even if she’d been off her food. As they crunched to a halt outside the main house, Charlie killed the engine and turned to look at her. She wondered whether or not to ask him in to the barn, which would mean only one thing … which suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea … ‘I had a great evening, would you —’

  ‘Thanks, Mattie —’

  They both spoke at once, stopped and then laughed. He leaned towards her and their lips met. Time stood still. As the kiss deepened she felt as if she’d been waiting her whole life for it. Lost in the embrace, Mattie curled her fingers through his hair, delighting in the feel of him, the rasp of his chin and the softness of his lips… She’d never been kissed like that by anyone and she immediately wanted more, feeling a hunger for him that she couldn’t sate.

  As they broke away to catch their breath, the part of her that would be forever fifteen years old couldn’t believe the fact that she was kissing Charlie Drummond … She had to suppress a giggle that threatened to bubble up from deep inside her. She reached for him again, wanting the feel of his lips on hers. As if moving to a tune of their own, her hands ran along his broad back, feeling the planes of muscle beneath his shirt. She reached to the front of him and undid the buttons, pinging one onto the car floor in her haste. She wanted – no, she needed – to feel his skin, silky and warm, against hers. Charlie began to trail kisses down her throat, lingering at the hollow there. She groaned, caught up in the heat, the desire that had so quickly flared between them.

  ‘Tilly …’ He cleared his throat, pulled back. His eyes locked onto hers.

  She realised in that moment that she could really fall for him – properly this time. Not a silly schoolgirl crush, but the real thing. It was utterly terrifying. She barely had time to register the thought before he reached for her again and she willingly surrendered to his searching lips until she could no longer think straight.

  A while later, as her eyelids fluttered open, she saw that a light had gone on on the verandah. The front door opened and Mark’s voice rang out. ‘Is that you, Mattie?’

  They broke away like guilty teenagers.

  Charlie grinned at her. ‘Busted!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Despite the mining threat hanging over the valley – reports of engineers assessing the land at Tarrawenna hummed along on the grapevine – the sun still rose and set and life went on. A week after Mattie’s date with Charlie, the long, golden autumn abruptly gave way to winter, and a freezing wind howled over the Shingle Hills, shaking the remaining leaves from the trees and delivering chilblains to those unfortunate enough to be out pruning.

  Mattie rested her feet – cosy in a pair of thick socks knitted by Mrs B – on the belly of the kitchen range. Astrid was sitting with Max and Rose was there too, planning for the annual Longest Table Shortest Day lunch, an event that brought most of the wineries in the valley together for a mid-winter celebration. Mattie remembered it from when she was a girl: the Narrow Track, a tiny side lane that snaked its way off the main Eumeralla Road, was closed to farm machinery, and one long table was set up along the middle of it. A temporary camp kitchen was established at the far end, and participating restaurants and wineries collaborated on a menu and shared the cooking. This year, Rose had volunteered to chair the organising. She had already enlisted Mattie’s help in designing a poster that now adorned most of the shop windows in Eumeralla, and which had gone out to the mailing lists of all the wineries involved.

  Now Rose was deciding on a menu. ‘Do you think we should serve polenta or rice with the lamb?’ she asked Mattie.

  Mattie shrugged. ‘I dunno, depends on how you are thinking of cooking it, I guess.’

  ‘I was thinking we’d marinate and then spit-roast it on site, Italian-style. In which case …’ Rose tapped her pencil against her thigh. ‘Polenta is probably a better option. It might be a nightmare to cook on site though. If last year is anything to go by, we’re looking at about 200 plus.’

  ‘What about grilled polenta instead? That way you can make it in advance and warm it through before serving it?’

  ‘Of course!’ cried Rose. ‘Genius. Thanks, Mattie!’ She beamed at her and began scribbling away.

  Astrid disengaged Max’s fist from her hair. ‘Last year they were all still there drinking in the dark, according to Thommo. He went from the lunch straight to the pub and didn’t get home until nearly midnight – I remember, I was up with Max and he made a hell of a noise when he came in,’ she grimaced.

  Mattie chewed on a fingernail. ‘Do you need any help with the theme? With dressing the tables, setting the scene?’

  ‘Are you kidding? That would be fantastic. I’m good with the food side of things, but the aesthetics, well, it’s not exactly my strong point.’

  ‘But Trevelyn’s Pantry? It’s hardly devoid of style, Rose. You’d
have to have rocks in your head not to notice how beautiful it is.’

  ‘Actually Astrid did most of that.’

  Astrid looked up and smiled. ‘I spent hours at jumble sales and op shops,’ she said. ‘Loved every minute of it.’

  ‘Do you think you’d like to help me out with this?’ Mattie asked her. ‘I reckon it’ll be too big a job for one person, in any case.’

  Astrid’s eyes lit up. ‘How about making a kind of Italian alfresco scene, lots of terracotta, reds and oranges?’

  Rose and Mattie nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘We’ll have braziers to keep everyone warm, and there’s a stash of blankets somewhere from previous years that we can use too,’ said Rose.

  ‘I can also do the calligraphy for the place names, if you’d like,’ said Astrid.

  ‘We’d better get cracking then,’ said Mattie. ‘It’ll be here before we know it.’

  The morning of the lunch dawned bright and clear. Ticket sales had been strong, and the last few places had been snapped up the week before. ‘Helped in no small part by your beautifully illustrated poster,’ Rose told Mattie.

  The two women had risen before the sun and were sitting in the kitchen at Kalkari, having a coffee in the early morning quiet. Astrid was going to meet them at the Narrow Track, where they were expecting delivery of the plates, cutlery, glasses, tables and chairs loaned from each of the restaurants.

  ‘All set?’ Mark appeared in the kitchen, running his fingers through dishevelled hair.

  Rose nodded. ‘Yep. Looking forward to it. Are you bringing Leo and Luisa at noon?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Thommo’s coming later too, with Max. We’ll be at the kiddies’ end of the table, God help us.’ Max was at that age where he took great delight in seeing how far he could throw his food, and would only sit still for a few minutes before wanting to be off, exploring. ‘Toddlers,’ he said, grimacing.