by Kayte Nunn
‘A thing?’
‘Too much?’ Cara looked at her doubtfully.
‘On you? Never!’
Giggling, they entered the pub to a roar of conversation, and Mattie soon spotted Jake in the far corner. He gave them both a high-wattage smile, and Mattie nudged her friend. ‘See?’
‘He’s looking at you too, you know,’ Cara replied.
Mattie made a scoffing sound and they went to the bar. ‘My shout, what’ll you have? And before you ask, I don’t think they run to a Slippery Nipple. Now, on the other hand, if you were after a Bundy and Coke …’
‘Better make it a beer, hey?’ Cara replied.
After they’d been served, they went over to where Jake was sitting and he moved over to make space for them.
‘How do you like the valley so far, Cara?’ he said.
‘I like it pretty fine, thank you. Mattie never mentioned how stunning this place is, did you, Mats?’
Mattie raised her glass at her friend. ‘Some things are best kept on the down-low. Cheers.’
‘Wait till you see it in spring and summer, though I reckon autumn’s my favourite season,’ said Jake. ‘Pruning’s started and it’s a bit bleak out there at the moment, I’m afraid.’
‘Well, I’m certainly glad I packed my thermal underwear,’ replied Cara.
Jake shifted in his seat and his eyes glinted. ‘Did you now?’
She looked at him boldly. ‘Lace-edged La Perla.’
Jake clapped one hand to his chest. ‘You’re killing me,’ he mouthed.
Mattie, observing the sparks once again flying between them, suddenly felt flatter than an old bicycle tyre. She didn’t think she could ever be as carefree and flirtatious as her friend, and she was, she realised suddenly, jealous of that. She looked over to the bar and spotted Charlie across the other side of the pub. Then she saw Marie-Claire standing next to him and her mood flattened even further. Fickle bastard. What gave him the right to have taken her out, to have kissed her like he meant it, when he had Marie-Claire waiting in the wings? He’d been conspicuously uncommunicative since the Shortest Day lunch. Nothing. Not a call, not a voicemail, or even a text. She’d had too much pride to message him. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she cared, as clearly it hadn’t meant anything to him. She should have known better – he was still the knockabout larrikin he’d always been. Would she ever learn to be a better judge of men? Or were they all as bad as each other?
‘Hey!’ Mattie was startled out of her self-pity. ‘Dude, did you hear any of that?’ Cara asked. ‘We were talking about photography. Jake says he dabbles a bit. You took some brilliant shots when we were in London. Why don’t you give it a go here? There’s so much scope.’ Cara waved her arms around, nearly upending Mattie’s drink.
Cara looked so excited, Mattie felt churlish not to summon up some enthusiasm. ‘Yeah, I suppose. I did study photography as part of my course at art school. I loved it, actually. Toyed with the idea of taking it up seriously, but then with work … I never seemed to have much time for it. I was shortlisted in a competition for one of my shots last year – do you remember, Cara?’
‘I do.’ Her friend nodded enthusiastically. ‘Come on. Why not then?’ They both looked at her hopefully. Were they in cahoots, trying to get her interested in something? Whatever their plan, it worked. Mattie and Jake were soon swapping camera stories, getting technical about apertures and f-stops, until Cara nudged her. Officer Doyd was walking towards them. She almost didn’t recognise him in his civvies. The short-back-and-sides haircut was a dead giveaway though. He was wearing a tight pair of Levis and an even tighter black t-shirt that showed off the planes of what must surely be washboard abs. Mattie noticed her friend sitting up a bit straighter. ‘The Shingle Valley is crawling with gorgeous men, Mats. They’re all fit as Mallee bulls,’ Cara whispered to her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have been here sooner.’
‘Stop it!’ begged Mattie, only half serious.
‘G’day, Officer,’ Cara drawled.
‘Brock, please. I’m off duty now.’ He blushed, probably remembering the sight of Cara in the white singlet in the kitchen at Kalkari. ‘Couldn’t miss you even from over there.’ He indicated the far side of the bar. ‘I didn’t realise pets were allowed – does this have a name?’ he said, touching the edge of her furry vest.
‘Careful, it might bite.’
He chuckled but removed his hand. ‘Mind if I join you?’
Cara nodded and inched along the bench seat, giving him just enough room to sit down. Jake looked less than impressed.
‘So, Brock, how’s your week been?’ Cara asked. ‘Catch any bad guys?’
He shook his head.
‘Any more news on the Tarrawenna vandalism?’ asked Mattie. When he had called at Kalkari earlier that week, he’d told them that the fences along the property had been plastered with signs saying ‘Frack Off Our Valley’ – which the girls had smirked at – but, more seriously, that the entrance had been blocked by what must have been several truckloads of rubble.
He shook his head. ‘Dead end at the moment. Everyone I’ve spoken to can account for their whereabouts on the night in question. But it looks like Tin Pei haven’t had time to put up any security cameras yet, so there’s very little evidence as to who the perpetrators might be.’
‘Can’t say I’m exactly sorry,’ said Mattie.
‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,’ said Brock, his tone serious. ‘Vandalism is still vandalism, no matter what.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t agree more,’ said Cara, batting her eyelashes. ‘Don’t you think so, Jake?’
*
‘Excuse me?’ The accent was French.
Mattie had grown bored of Cara’s flirtation with Officer Doyd and Jake and had excused herself to the bathroom. She emerged from the stall to see Marie-Claire washing her hands.
‘You are Matilda, yes? We met at the lunch the other week?’
Mattie nodded.
‘Charlie has told me so much about you.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh really?’
‘About your terrible accident, but also that you have recently returned from London, where you had a très important job.’
‘Well, I’m not sure that it was that important. Advertising …’ She shrugged. ‘Not exactly brain surgery, is it?’
‘We may have something in common.’ You’re not kidding, thought Mattie. Marie-Claire continued, undaunted by Mattie’s lack of response. ‘I work in marketing, in Bordeaux. I love my job very much, but now … well, I am wondering what I can do if I move to Australie.’
‘Oh, I’m sure there are opportunities here if you look for them,’ said Mattie.
‘Yes, but I would be leaving so much behind …’
‘And you can’t persuade Charlie to move over there,’ Mattie finished for her.
‘Exactement.’
‘Well, only you can make that decision.’
‘I know, but it would help if I knew I could make friends here too. Other women who have a career, yes?’
As Marie-Claire washed her hands, Mattie suddenly noticed that there was no diamond sparkling on the left one. Marie-Claire caught her stare and spread her fingers out in front of her. Mattie saw the perfectly manicured shell-pink nails, a complete contrast to her own blunt ones. ‘Charlie wanted me to wear his grandmother’s ring, but it was, how do you say … not exactly so chic.’
Mattie was unsurprised. A jaw-dropping rock like those by DeVere & Soames would probably be more Marie-Claire’s style.
‘Anyway, I hope we can perhaps get to know each other better, Matilda?’
Mattie knew that Marie-Claire was asking her to extend the hand of friendship, but she wasn’t feeling generous. ‘Actually, I’m not sure how long I’ll be in the valley; I’m really here just to recuperate before I return to London. But I’m sure you’ll find it a friendly place.’
Marie-Claire looked at her in surprise. ‘Oh, but Charlie said you were liv
ing here now.’
Mattie dried her hands fiercely on a paper towel. ‘Well, he’s got that wrong, I’m afraid,’ she said, flinging open the bathroom door.
As she was walking along the corridor she looked up to see the cause of her current troubles coming towards her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she threw him a withering look and pushed past him, returning to Cara and her admirers.
*
Emerging from the shower the next morning, Mattie saw her phone light up. Grabbing it with one hand, the other clutching her towel, she saw a message.
It was from Charlie.
Sorry I missed you last night. Really need to talk. Come to Windsong first thing this morning?
What was that all about? She had no desire to see him. It was bad enough knowing she’d bump into him in town or at the pub, but to put herself deliberately in front of him and Marie-Claire? The two of them together?
Another day perhaps, she wrote.
The message pinged back. Come as soon as you can – promise it’ll be worth it.
She was a tiny bit intrigued.
Another message pinged. You won’t want to miss this.
She pondered as she got dressed. What on earth could be so important? On the other hand, he did owe her an explanation … perhaps it would help to clear the air between them. Okay, she eventually texted back, her curiosity getting the upper hand. Be there in a couple of hours. She wasn’t going to rush.
Arriving at Windsong later that morning, she walked over to the enormous shed that housed the winery and spotted Charlie coming out of the door. He walked towards her.
She braced herself.
‘Mattie,’ he said, ‘I haven’t had the chance to speak to you —’
‘No Marie-Claire?’ she interrupted.
He looked uncomfortable. ‘About that … Look, I had no idea she was coming, you must believe me. She turned up out of the blue. I wanted to tell you before I saw you but I —’
‘It’s alright, Charlie.’ The fight went out of her. ‘You don’t owe me any explanations. We’re just mates, right?’ Mattie decided right then that the best way to deal with her hurt and humiliation was to brush it under the carpet, pretend that she was just fine, that the kiss they’d shared hadn’t meant anything.
‘I don’t know what’s going to happen.’
‘Well, that’s between you and her. Certainly none of my business. I wish you the best. She seems like a lovely girl.’
‘That’s just the thing …’ He shrugged.
‘Was that all you wanted? Because if that’s it, I’ve really got a busy day ahead of me.’ She turned to go.
‘No!’ He put a hand on her wrist and Mattie shivered involuntarily at his touch, her body betraying her. ‘There’s something else. Something really exciting. Come and see for yourself. She’s in the back paddock,’ he said, pulling Mattie around the side of the winery shed.
As they rounded the building, Mattie heard a whinny. Not that that was unusual – she knew the boys still kept a few horses on the property. But then … she couldn’t believe her eyes. She looked at Charlie in wonder. ‘You’re kidding me?’
He grinned. ‘Nup.’
‘What? How?’ Mattie didn’t stay to listen to the answer but broke into a limping run, her bad leg almost forgotten as she raced to the fence. A chestnut mare with a white blaze tossed her head and began to neigh. Reaching the split-rail fence, Mattie ducked under it just as the horse, which had cantered over, came to an abrupt stop right in front of her. Mattie threw her arms around the old mare’s neck. ‘Shakira! Look at you, Shakira darling,’ she crooned. ‘All whiskery and grey now.’ The horse nuzzled Mattie’s face, whickering in recognition. ‘You’ve missed me, huh? Oh, I’ve missed you too, baby.’
Charlie stood back, arms folded, as she fussed over the horse. After a long while, Mattie turned around and looked at him, an ear-to-ear grin splitting her face. ‘I can’t believe it. Where did you find her?’
‘Been keeping my ear to the ground. I knew that you’d sold her to someone in the area —’
‘Yes, the Willoughbys. They wanted her for their daughter, and I was off to the UK. I needed the money for my trip and I didn’t want her sitting around in a paddock, never being ridden, so it seemed like the best thing to do,’ she said. ‘I tried contacting them when I got back, thought I could go and see the old girl, but they’d moved away.’
‘Yep. I knew that too, but I happened to find out who they’d passed her on to. It took some negotiating, but, well, here she is. Now it’s just up to you to get back on the horse, so to speak.’
She couldn’t believe it. Her Shakira – here? ‘Oh, Charlie, that’s the most amazing thing anyone has ever, ever done for me.’ Mattie’s heart swelled.
‘No thanks necessary. When I told them that the original owner had been in an avalanche and lost almost everything, they agreed to sell, to let her come back to you.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Mattie. ‘I can’t believe you found her for me.’
‘So are we mates again?’ he asked.
Caught up in her happiness, she left the horse to give Charlie the fiercest hug she could, his betrayal overshadowed by her joy at being reunited with her beloved horse. She nearly knocked him off his feet.
‘Steady on there, Mats,’ he said, but his arms wound around hers and held her tightly, not letting her go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Wet weather over the following few weeks kept everyone inside – that is, except for the poor pruning team, who had to brave the sodden conditions to cut back the vines. The mud in the vineyards was almost up to their ankles, and they trudged great clods of it along the paths. Rose made vats of vegetable soup to warm them up when they came into the winery at lunchtime, and Leo helped them hose off their boots when they’d finished at the end of the day. After staying with Mattie in the barn for a couple of weeks and having most of the single males – and, truth be told, even some of the taken ones – panting in her wake, Cara had disappeared back to Sydney. ‘But I’ll be back as soon as I’ve spent some time with the olds and caught up with a few school friends, never fear,’ she promised Mattie. ‘I love it here – I can see why you’d want to stay. So much talent.’ She winked. ‘Keep an eye on Jake for me, and Officer Doyd.’
Mattie was confused by her comment. She’d never mentioned to Cara that she was thinking of staying, not for the long term in any case. London and her old life did seem so far away, but she couldn’t stay in the valley forever. For a start, she needed to earn a living, and the odd bit of design work probably wasn’t going to be enough to support her. She also wasn’t sure if she could take the constant reminder of Charlie and Marie-Claire practically on her doorstep. On the plus side, her leg was almost completely healed now, and apart from the odd twinge, her shoulder was in pretty good shape too. The scar on her face was still there, but she hadn’t decided if it was bad enough to warrant seeing a plastic surgeon – apart from anything else she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford it. She visited Shakira when the rain allowed, spending hours stroking the old mare’s mane and whispering to her, but still hadn’t worked up the courage to put a saddle on her and go for a ride.
‘I’m not used to lounging around all day,’ she moaned to Rose as they chopped veggies for dinner. ‘I love helping you and Astrid out with the kids, but I really need to find something more to do with myself or I’ll go batshit crazy.’
‘Go easy on yourself, hey? You’re still recovering from a major injury,’ Rose reassured her. ‘Don’t stress too much about it. You know you’re welcome here for as long as you like. What’s meant for you will find you.’
‘Humph.’ Mattie wasn’t impressed with trite philosophising. She’d seen enough of it on her Facebook feed when she was in London recovering from her accident. She knew her friends had meant well, but seeing phrases like ‘Time heals’ and ‘You’re never sent more than you can handle’ had made her want to throw her laptop across the room. A card from one f
riend, with the words, ‘Hey, little fighter, soon it will be brighter,’ was particularly offensive. She glared out of the window, as if the rain were somehow responsible for keeping her there. She felt irritable and out of sorts with the world. It didn’t help that Marie-Claire seemed to have charmed everyone the length and breadth of the valley. Even Mrs B, who had dropped by earlier that day, was singing her praises.
Finally, when Mattie thought she would die of cabin fever, the clouds cleared and she woke one morning to clear skies. Filled with a new sense of purpose, and determined to do something positive rather than sit around whingeing, she wrapped herself up in her warmest clothes, picked up the camera she’d brought with her from London and headed out into the vineyards. The early morning light was perfect and she wanted to get some moody shots of the vines with the Shingle Hills in the background before the mist cleared. She breathed in the cool, fresh air and noticed the heady scent of star jasmine from the vine that clung to the barn walls. Looking down, she saw the delicate blooms of wild snowdrops, their bell-like flowers nodding in the breeze. Spring was finally on its way to the valley.
Mattie clicked away, adjusting the camera settings, trying a range of exposures. Her fingers were completely numb, but she didn’t want to stop and go back for gloves. The view from the top of Trevelyn’s Hill was stunning, the dark streaks of the vines stretching across the valley, mist still lingering in the furrows. Switching to a macro lens, she trudged down the narrow footpath until she reached the valley floor again. She wanted to get some close-up shots of the bare vines, of their gnarled old trunks – something a bit more abstract. Dew glistened on the canes as she narrowed her focus on a vine at the end of the row. Bending down to get the right angle, Mattie suddenly lost her balance and fell backwards, landing in the thick, slippery mud. She swore loudly as she sat, feet in the air, camera held high so it didn’t suffer the same muddied fate as her arse had.
‘Need a hand?’ Mattie heard an amused voice behind her. What the hell was Charlie doing there? Perfect bloody timing. She hadn’t seen him since he’d found Shakira for her, and although she’d always be grateful for his thoughtfulness, it didn’t mean she’d completely forgiven him for not telling her about Marie-Claire. However, after some hard thinking, she’d decided to see if they could salvage a friendship. The valley was too small a place for resentment to fester.
