by Kayte Nunn
‘Where would you like us to set up?’ The photographer’s assistant, a fresh-faced boy who looked all of about fifteen, enquired.
Mattie, who had greeted the team at the door, led them through to the back of the house and onto the verandah. ‘Rose and Mark thought you might like to get some shots out here, the whole crew having smoko, the house and the hills in the background, that sort of thing.’
‘Terrific!’ The assistant was enthusiastic. ‘We also wanted to get some in situ shots – Mark in the vineyards, in the winery, among the barrels.’
‘Of course,’ said Mattie. ‘You tell us where and when. We’re at your disposal.’ She flashed him a quick smile. ‘Why don’t I give you a guided tour and then you can decide where you’d like to start?’
The previous day, Rose had made lamb and rosemary pies and baked a fruitcake for the shoot and the visitors. She was pulling a tray of scones out of the oven when Mattie led the photographer, his assistant and the writer through.
‘Oooh, lovely,’ said Wendy, the writer, as she caught sight of the scones’ golden tops. ‘Smells delicious. You must be Mark’s partner – Rose, isn’t it?’ She checked her notes. Rose nodded. ‘Oh good. I’d love to have a quick chat with you as well, once we’re done with Mark. You look like quite a cook.’
‘Well, I run Trevelyn’s Pantry, a restaurant a bit further down the valley,’ said Rose.
‘Sounds fascinating,’ Wendy said eagerly, ‘we can certainly mention that as well.’
‘Mark, Jake and Dan are all waiting for us over at the winery,’ said Cara, coming into the kitchen. The assistant’s jaw dropped when he saw her. She was channelling full-on prairie-girl chic, with knee-high cocoa-brown leather riding boots, a full skirt in some sort of fine wool and a cream silk blouse topped by a broad-brimmed hat tipped insouciantly over one eye.
The day was hectic, with Mattie and Cara posing at the cellar door, Mattie making endless coffees and Cara pretending to be polishing tasting glasses. Rose sighed with relief that they’d finished the revamp. The final bits and pieces of furniture that Cara had ordered had arrived the week before and the place was utterly transformed.
‘I’m itching to take up the camera myself,’ Mattie confessed to Rose as they looked at the shots that had come through on the photographer’s laptop. ‘It looks gorgeous, really photogenic. Thank God we painted the place, hey?’
Rose nodded. ‘And Cara looks amazing,’ she said. The girl’s fair skin and white-blonde hair shone in the shots. ‘She should have been a model.’
‘You’re not too shabby yourself, Rose!’ insisted Mattie. Mattie had been reluctant to be in the photos herself. ‘The scar …’ she’d said to Rose. ‘Nonsense. You can hardly see it any more,’ Rose had reassured her. ‘Don’t sweat it, babe,’ said Cara, coming to her rescue. ‘A dab of concealer will fix that right up.’ Mattie felt uncomfortable with a face full of makeup, but unless you looked closely, the scar was hard to see. Cara had done an amazing job.
Mark and Jake had spent what seemed like hours patiently strolling up and down the vines, and then Mark was made to stand in front of a backdrop of old barrels in the winery. ‘Reckon you’ve got enough of me now,’ he protested.
‘And me,’ echoed Jake.
‘He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?’ breathed Cara, sidling up to Rose, who was watching from a distance. Cara’s eyes were fixed on Jake.
‘Mmmm …’ said Rose, who was looking at Mark. She’d seen him spruced up on plenty of occasions in the past, but now, through the eyes of the photographer and with Cara’s styling, it was as if she was seeing him anew. With a delicious shiver, she remembered the time he’d taken her to a dinner in Sydney, how he had kissed her afterwards – their first kiss … She looked around at the gorgeous landscape, her handsome partner … She’d got everything she wanted, so why was there this emptiness threatening to overwhelm her? The hunger to have a child of her own, a baby to nurture, was growing stronger by the day. She knew a baby would only complicate things – she had enough on her plate with the restaurant and it was taking more and more of her time. She knew Mark wasn’t keen on the idea of more kids, so why couldn’t she let it go? It was totally irrational, but she couldn’t help herself.
Finally, they began to set up on the verandah. The sun was low in the sky and cast a golden light across the honeyed stone of the house. Rose brought out a platter of pies and chutney and one of scones, together with heaped bowls of blackberry jam and whipped cream, which she laid on the table. They’d skipped lunch and everyone was starving. The six of them pretended to pass each other the food and laugh while doing so. ‘Forget I’m here,’ the photographer instructed. Rose couldn’t help being self-conscious; she wasn’t used to it, but Mattie and Cara were acting like naturals, managing to effortlessly pour tea and ham it up for the camera at the same time. Jake was sitting opposite Cara, and Rose couldn’t help notice the tension between them – they kept locking eyes and then looking away. They seemed as wary around each other as a pair of stray cats. Jake did look good, Rose had to admit, freshly shaved and in a clean shirt that perfectly matched his eyes. Earlier, she had seen Cara ruffling his dark hair, teasing out the curls, which gave him even more of a gypsy appeal.
‘Top tucker, Rose,’ said Jake, sensing her gaze.
‘Amazing,’ said Cara as both she and Jake reached for the last scone at the same time.
‘Ladies first,’ he said, winking at her. ‘Gotta love a woman with a good appetite.’
‘How about we go halves?’ said Cara, slathering part of the scone with jam and cream and presenting him with it.
‘Generous too,’ he said.
Rose could feel the temperature rise just looking at them.
‘That’s it, guys. It’s a wrap. We’ve got everything we need,’ said the photographer after Rose had raised her teacup to her lips for what seemed like the hundredth time.
‘Thanks for everything,’ said Wendy, who had been hovering in the background all day, making copious notes in her spiral-bound notebook. ‘Jake, you’ve been particularly helpful. I can’t thank you enough.’ She pressed a hand on his arm and looked up at him with a radiant smile.
Rose was astonished at Jake’s lack of reaction; normally flirting came as naturally to him as breathing. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been the same since he’d come back from visiting his parents in Adelaide. Could his father’s illness have something to do with his new, more sober, approach?
‘No worries,’ he said. ‘I hope you got everything you came for.’
‘Well, perhaps not everything,’ Rose heard the writer say to him under her breath.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Atypical Friday night in the Shingle Valley revolved around the Southern Cross and its legendary chicken parma, and, while she admitted the dish was mighty good, Mattie was looking forward to a bit of a change this coming Friday.
A group of the local vignerons were hosting a dinner in New Bridgeton to showcase their new-release reds, and Mark had invited Mattie and Cara along as a thank you for their work in running the cellar door.
Mattie dressed with care, applying just enough makeup to conceal the scar and enhance her skin and naturally rosy lips. Cara had persuaded her to wear a simple sheath dress, its emerald colour making her eyes seem even greener, and a pair of low-heeled ankle boots that offset the prettiness of the dress and were stable enough for her to walk in without fear of tripping and wrecking her leg again. She slicked her hair back and tucked it behind her ears. She wanted to at least hold her own against the other guests at the dinner, one chic Frenchwoman in particular.
‘Can you do me up?’ asked Cara, coming into Mattie’s bedroom with a rustle of fabric. Mattie let out a low whistle. Her friend had gone all out in a silver jumpsuit, the front of which was slashed almost to her navel. With scarlet lips, smoky eyeshadow and her blonde hair pulled back in a smooth chignon, she looked the epitome of glamour.
‘Dressing up again, Car? Anything to do with a certai
n viticulturist?’ she teased.
‘Oh, come on, you know I always make an effort.’
‘Yeah, but this …’ Mattie paused. ‘You look gorgeous, babe. Jake won’t be able to resist you.’
‘Well, if he does then I don’t know what the problem is.’
‘Come on then, we’d better go and find the others. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be late. Mark said something about wanting to check the wines before they’re poured.’
‘Coming.’ Cara slicked on a final coat of scarlet gloss and the girls headed out.
The spring night was cool, but the restaurant was cosy, with a crackling fire at one end of the long room. The tables were laid with white cloths and each setting had four glasses of varying sizes in front of it. The restaurant had arranged extra glasses to accommodate the wines that were to be served – Rose had lent fifty of her own from Trevelyn’s Pantry. The place had yet to fill up, but almost immediately Mattie spied Thommo, Deano and Mick, and Charlie, who was deep in conversation with Jake but looked up and smiled as he saw her. She cast around for Marie-Claire, but couldn’t spot her.
‘Hey, girls,’ said Jake, seeing them arrive. Mattie noticed that he was unable to tear his eyes away from Cara.
‘Wow, Mattie, you look amazing,’ said Thommo.
Mattie felt rather unremarkable compared with Cara, but it was nice to get the compliment. ‘Thanks. It’s not quite my usual style,’ she said, indicating the dress.
‘You don’t say,’ he laughed. ‘But it really suits you.’
‘How about me?’ said Cara. ‘Am I the dog’s breakfast?’
Thommo laughed, a loud boom that echoed across the restaurant. ‘Cara, sweetheart, you could never be that.’
A waiter approached with a tray of sparkling wine and Cara and Mattie accepted a delicate flute each, tilting their heads back to take a sip.
The room quickly filled up with couples and groups as waiters moved through the crowd, ushering guests to their seats. It was time for the food to be served and the first of the wines to be poured.
Mattie found herself seated to Charlie’s left, and further along their table she could see Cara sitting directly opposite Jake. Still no sign of Marie-Claire. She leaned back to allow the waiter to place the first course in front of her while another poured the wine. Sangiovese, by the look of it. She picked up the glass, swirled it and sniffed. The familiar aroma of sour cherries and dusty earth pricked her nostrils and her mouth immediately began to water. One of her favourite wines.
‘What do you think?’ Charlie was watching her.
‘Mmm. Pretty good,’ she said after taking a swallow.
‘It’s ours. We replanted a block at the top of the property a few years back. This is the first decent vintage. Have to say I’m damn pleased with how well it’s turned out.’
‘How have things been at Windsong?’
‘Well, we’re none too pleased about the mine, that’s for sure.’
‘You and Mark are leading the opposition to it, aren’t you? Do you think you can stop it?’
Charlie’s normally sunny face was serious. ‘I’ve no idea. But if it goes ahead it’ll change everything about the valley, I know that much. We’re going to do everything we can. I’ll chain myself to a bulldozer if I have to.’
Mattie barked with laughter. ‘Sorry, I know it’s not funny, but somehow I can’t imagine you in chains.’
‘Yeah, well. You never know what a man will do when he’s backed into a corner. This is our land, our heritage, our bloody livelihood and none of us want to see it destroyed.’
Mattie nodded. She knew what this valley meant to so many of those who lived in it, those who had grown up here, whose families had farmed the land for generations. ‘You didn’t have anything to do with that truckload of waste that was dumped at Tarrawenna, did you?’ she asked, something in her brain clicking into place.
He gave her the barest hint of a wink.
‘I knew it! Charlie Drummond, you’ll get yourself into all kinds of trouble. Will you ever grow up?’ she scolded in a whisper.
He shrugged, looking like a schoolboy caught doing something he shouldn’t, but knowing that his charm would probably mean he would get away with it. ‘Not if I can help it.’
‘What would Marie-Claire say if she knew that her fiancé was completely irresponsible?’
‘I dunno. She’s in France, isn’t she?’
‘Oh, I wasn’t aware of that. But she’s coming back, right?’
Charlie was about to reply when there was a chink of cutlery on glassware and Mark got to his feet.
Frustrated, Mattie threw back another slug of wine and wondered what Charlie had been about to reveal. She noticed Cara sitting further along the table, seemingly engrossed in a conversation with the couple alongside her, and completely ignoring Jake. She wanted to bash their heads together and tell them what idiots they were being, but she knew she had to let them sort it out themselves.
As the chairman of the Shingle Valley Vignerons Association, Mark welcomed the guests and began to talk about the previous year’s vintage, how the conditions had affected the fruit, and the style of the wines they had in the glasses before them.
‘He’s incredible, isn’t he?’ Mattie whispered to Charlie, who nodded in agreement. Mattie had always been a little in awe of her big brother, but seeing him taking centre stage, his passion for his work shining through his words, gave her a sudden rush of pride.
Mark called on each host in turn, inviting them to say a few words about their wines. As first Thommo Drummond, then Deano and then Bob Drayfield and several more winemakers got up to speak, the guests finished off their entrées and the main course was served. Mattie didn’t get the chance to return to her conversation with Charlie about Marie-Claire’s expected return.
Later, after the food had been cleared away, and people were lingering over coffee and dessert wine, Mattie saw Cara push back her chair and head out of the room. Excusing herself, she followed, wanting to talk to her friend about what was going on, but Jake was too quick for her and reached Cara before Mattie could. She hung back, anxious not to interrupt.
‘Cara, are you feeling okay?’ he said.
Mattie couldn’t hear her friend’s reply.
‘Here, take this.’ He handed her his jacket, letting his hands linger on her shoulders. ‘It’s still cold in the evenings.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
‘Yep. A bit light-headed, that’s all. It was warm in there.’
Mattie knew she should probably get back to the restaurant; she felt like a voyeur. But she couldn’t help but stay to hear what would happen.
‘You know I can’t stop thinking about you,’ Jake blurted out.
Mattie saw her friend’s eyes widen in surprise.
‘I’ll probably regret this,’ he said, taking a step towards her and placing a hand on her chin. He tilted her lips to his. Mattie wasn’t able to suppress a cough and blushed furiously at the thought of being discovered eavesdropping, but the two of them were oblivious.
She dragged herself away, feeling a mixture of happiness and despondence. She truly was pleased for her friend, but everyone around her seemed to be pairing up. It was like a bloody couples’ Noah’s Ark.
As she returned to the table, Charlie called out, ‘Did you find her?’ He stopped when he saw her expression. ‘Hey? Everything okay?’
Mattie tried to put on a brave face. She knew she wasn’t being rational, but she’d had it up to there with rationality. She grabbed her glass of wine, taking a reckless gulp. ‘Fancy going dancing?’ she said to Charlie. She’d completely forgotten that a recently healed broken leg might limit her capabilities on the dance floor. The alcohol appeared to have numbed any lingering pain in her limbs.
‘In New Bridgeton? Really?’ He stood up. ‘C’mon Mattie,’ he said, putting a steadying arm around her. ‘Perhaps it’s time to call it a night, hey?’
Mattie wriggle
d out of his embrace, wobbling slightly. ‘If you won’t take me, then I’ll find someone who will.’ She enunciated her words, careful not to slur them.
He paused for a moment and then grinned. ‘Alright, I’m up for it if you are. There was that dodgy nightclub in Waverly Street, but I think it closed down last year.’
‘Anyone else?’ she asked the table. There was a murmur of dissent from those who remained. ‘Looks like it’s just you and me, Charlie Drummond. Come on then, what are you waiting for?’
They said their goodbyes and hopped in a cab that was waiting outside the restaurant. ‘Know anywhere that’s open late around here, mate?’ Charlie asked the driver.
A few minutes later they found themselves in a part of town that Mattie had never been to, on the other side of the railway line that bisected the town. ‘Wrong side of the tracks,’ she laughed as they stepped out of the cab and towards an unlit doorway. ‘Where the hell are we?’ she asked, leaning on Charlie’s arm.
‘I’ve heard of this place, but I can’t say I know it. Well, Fearless …’ They approached the bouncer, who waved them inside and down a set of stairs. ‘Here goes.’
Mattie could feel the pulse of a thrumming bass, and a fug of heat rose from the dimly lit basement. A tangle of bodies, writhing to an insistent beat, filled the room.
‘Drink?’ Charlie shouted.
Mattie shook her head, pulling him into the middle of the throng of dancers. She didn’t need any more alcohol; she craved a different drug. In the far reaches of her responsible mind she knew that she was well out of order to crack onto someone else’s fiancé, but she deliberately ignored the tiny voice of reason and reached out to Charlie. Pulling him close, she began to move sensuously against him, inhibitions cast to the wind, desire surging through her. She didn’t care if this was only for one night; she wanted to have some fun for once. Everything could change in an instant, she knew that now; what was so wrong about living for the moment?
Charlie didn’t miss a beat, matching her move for move as their bodies locked in a rhythm. He is good at this, she thought with surprise before closing her eyes and losing herself in the music and the feel of his hard-muscled body against hers.
