by Kayte Nunn
‘No, I reckon we’re not as fit as we were when we were kids,’ said Charlie.
They turned around. The valley spread out before them like a child’s drawing: rows of vines forming neat grids across the plain, trees dotted between the vineyards, silvery triangles of dams catching the sunlight. ‘Wow, it’s still amazing, isn’t it?’ said Mattie once she’d gotten her breath back. ‘I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.’
‘Yup. Can’t imagine how different it’ll look if the mines get in,’ said Charlie. He shucked off the backpack and pulled out a couple of water bottles.
‘Thanks,’ said Mattie as he handed one to her. ‘Completely forgot we might need water. Shows how much of a city girl I’ve become.’ She gulped it down thirstily, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when she was done.
‘Good job I’m here then, hey?’ said Charlie. ‘Come on, let’s sit over there.’ He pointed to a couple of tussocks of grass.
Sitting cross-legged, he pulled out a brown paper bag and offered her a bun dripping with icing.
She groaned with appreciation. ‘Eumeralla Bakery still makes the best cinnamon scrolls I’ve ever tasted.’
‘Nowhere better.’
‘This is a bit classier than our old smoko fare, isn’t it?’ she said, recalling the white-bread sandwiches with Vegemite or pink slices of Devon that had been their sustenance as kids.
‘Some things change, Mattie Cameron.’
‘I guess they do,’ she said. ‘Charlie?’
‘Mmm?’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Anything.’
‘Remember that cross-country competition?’
‘How could I forget it?’ He laughed. ‘The one where you trounced me and most of the valley?’
‘That’d be the one.’ She couldn’t help grinning at the memory.
‘What about it?’
‘Why did you leave so suddenly? Did you really hate losing to me so much?’
‘Do you really want to know?’
Mattie nodded.
‘I was all set to congratulate you,’ he said, looking suddenly embarrassed. ‘But as you came down from the podium some other lucky bugger swept you off your feet. Figured you didn’t need me there, playing third wheel.’
Mattie blushed. ‘Oh. I had no idea.’
Both of them fell silent, looking out at the view.
‘Now it’s only fair that I get to ask you something,’ said Charlie.
‘Okay. I suppose.’ Here it comes. She felt herself grow hot with shame.
‘Do you really not remember the other night in New Bridgeton, after the dinner?’
‘Well …’ she said carefully, ‘I remember going into the nightclub. And a bit of the dancing – those were quite some moves you pulled,’ she said, trying to make light of it. ‘But I’ve no idea how I got home, I’m afraid.’ She couldn’t look at him. She was telling the truth – well, partially.
He waited a beat. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said eventually. ‘We had a dance, but then you were practically falling over with tiredness. I made sure you got home okay.’
‘Ever the gentleman,’ she said, relieved that he was going to let it lie there. ‘I don’t normally cut loose like that,’ she said, an apologetic look on her face. ‘I think I’ve spent too long convalescing.’
He nodded. ‘I reckon it’s safe to say that your recuperation is nearly complete.’
‘Nearly?’
‘I’ve yet to see you back on Shakira.’ He looked at her pointedly.
‘Yeah, well …’ Mattie shrugged. She still hadn’t got up the nerve to ride again. After the pounding her body had taken in the avalanche, she was too scared to do anything that might set her recovery back or do even more damage.
‘Hey, Charlie?’
‘Yeah?’
She wanted to ask about Marie-Claire. If he was planning on going to France, or if she was coming back to the valley. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer. She hesitated and the moment was lost. ‘Nah, it’s nothing. Doesn’t matter.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The meeting in the main bar at the Southern Cross Hotel was getting increasingly rowdy. Everyone was there, as far as Rose could see: Thommo, Charlie, Ben, Deano and Angie, Jake, Dan, Bevan, Bob and Sadie … all of the vignerons in the valley, plus the bed and breakfast owners, the restaurateurs, the cafe proprietors, the hoteliers, the boutique owners. Everyone whose livelihood and future was under threat if a mine at the southern end of the valley went ahead. The pub was packed, and doing a roaring trade as people ordered schooner after schooner, thirsty from their shouted conversations. Rose could sense an ominous tone to the conversations. People were frustrated. And angry at the lack of progress. It wouldn’t take much for the meeting to get out of hand. She hoped Mark would be able to keep them under control.
Mark signalled to the publican to ring a ship’s bell at the end of the bar that was used to call time. At the sound, the hubbub died down and there was a shuffling of feet, a few coughs, then relative quiet as people ceased their conversations and turned to listen.
‘Alright, everyone,’ Mark called out. ‘Let’s get this meeting underway. It’s great to see so many of you out tonight, and thank you for coming. Now, I’ve spoken with the State Planning Commission and as yet they’ve not had any applications for licences to mine in the area. But I reckon it’s only a matter of time. We need to be ready with all guns blazing the minute we hear anything. Amanda, what are your thoughts on a PR campaign?’
‘Well, I think they can frack off!’ she yelled. The crowd laughed, as much at the thought of this diminutive blonde going up against the behemoth company as at her joke. As the laughter subsided, Amanda continued. ‘For a start we’re going to need some funds.’
There was a collective groan from those assembled. Amanda held up her hand. ‘Hear me out. I think there’s a way we can raise some money and get a bit of publicity for our cause at the same time.’
‘C’mon then, spill,’ said Bob. ‘Tell us what you’re thinking of.’
‘I’m proposing we hold an auction. A wine auction. If all the local vignerons donate a case or two from their museum stocks, and we hold it in the city, I reckon we’ll score some great coverage and raise money to fund our campaign. Two birds with one stone.’
‘I like it,’ said Mark. ‘Great idea. I’ll take care of assembling and cataloguing the wine, if everyone can email me with the details of what they can donate. Amanda, can you work on a venue and an invite list? Perhaps some of our other businesses can donate prizes for a raffle too? A few nights’ accommodation, a couple of meals, that sort of thing?’
Amanda nodded, her blonde hair flipping about her face. ‘There’s no reason that it can’t be online, too – that way anyone can bid.’
‘But then what’s in it for those who come?’
‘How about we open a few bottles, some older vintages – give people a chance to taste wines they’d never normally get to? Meet the winemakers …’
‘Terrific idea. Well done.’
She nodded, accepting his praise with a satisfied smile.
‘In addition, Thommo and I have also been working on a proposal to have the entire valley zoned for tourism. At the moment, it’s only the northern end that has the zoning. If we can get it extended, it’ll really put the kybosh on anyone digging up the area. It’s going to take a lot of work to put together a comprehensive submission, and we’ll need to make it our number one priority.’
There was a murmur from the crowd, then Bob Drayfield spoke up. ‘Now what’s this I’ve been hearing about an assault?’ he asked. ‘On young Tilly.’
There was more chatter, which soon escalated loudly and Mark had to hold up his hand to speak. ‘An over-eager security guard, that’s all. The matter is being handled by the police. I don’t think it will change anything, though it’s not great publicity for Tin Pei. But’ – he looked around the room – ‘it’s best that everyone stays well clear o
f the property. We don’t want any accusations of foul play, especially not after the graffiti incident. Everything we do has to be done the right way. This is no schoolyard fight we’ve got on our hands here.’
Rose’s eye was caught by a movement at the end of the bar. She was surprised to see an unfamiliar face there, waiting to be served. In the three years she’d lived in the valley, she reckoned she knew just about everyone, though even on a Wednesday night in spring she supposed there might be the odd stranger passing through. Then she noticed a logo on his fleece pullover, a blocky TPR picked out in red and white embroidery. Uh-oh. She recognised it immediately from Mark’s computer searches. Tin Pei Resources. Christ, if anyone else saw it and knew what it stood for, all hell would break loose. She tried frantically to catch Mark’s eye, but he was now deep in conversation with Bob and Thommo. Threading her way through the throng of people she squeezed next to the man just as he was about to be served. ‘I’m not sure that’s a terribly good idea,’ she said quietly.
The man turned to look at her. ‘Is there a problem? Perhaps the lady would like a drink too?’ he said to the publican with a leer.
‘Er, actually,’ Rose said, ‘your shirt. Probably not the best thing to wear around here.’
He looked bemused for a minute. ‘Oh, right,’ he said, understanding at last. ‘Look, lady, I’m just doing my job —’ he started.
‘I get it,’ she said, ‘but in case you hadn’t realised it, you’ve just walked right into a hornet’s nest.’ She inclined her head towards the crowd. ‘That’s a meeting of locals who oppose everything that Tin Pei stands for. Don’t stir up any more trouble than you already have. Most of them don’t know what that logo means, but there are a couple who do … I’d be leaving before things get ugly, if I were you.’
He looked over at the crowd, hesitated, then signalled the publican. ‘I’ll get a six-pack to go instead, mate.’
Rose breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the door. Crisis averted. For now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
‘Honestly, Mats, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had a guy come on so strong and then disappear off the radar. It’s bloody frustrating.’ Cara and Mattie were sitting on a couple of old chairs outside the barn. ‘I’m not used to being ignored. He’s hardly been at the winery for the past week, doesn’t answer my texts —’
‘Wait,’ said Mattie. ‘You’ve been texting him? Isn’t that the number one mistake in the dating rulebook?’
‘I couldn’t give a shit about that right now. I’m more pissed off than anything else. How dare he say what he said to me and then act as if I don’t even exist!’ Cara threw the magazine she’d been reading onto the floor. ‘Anyway, it was only one text. Just to see how he was. Keeping it casual.’
‘What exactly did he say to you at the wine dinner?’
‘Oh, you know, can’t stop thinking about me, he’s completely smitten, blah blah blah …’
‘Wow. That is full on. I’m stumped,’ said Mattie. ‘I mean, I’d heard all the rumours about him, but I found them hard to believe. Do you want me to speak to him, find out what’s really going on?’
‘No way! I’m almost over the whole thing actually. Arsehole.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Nah. I’m trying to make myself feel better about it. I might have even agreed to meet Broccoli at the pub on Friday.’
‘Broccoli?’
‘Officer Doyd. Brock.’
Mattie was silent. Cara had always needed admirers, but she sensed that her friend cared about Jake more than she was letting on.
‘Okay, so let’s see what you’ve done so far,’ Mark said to Mattie in the kitchen at Kalkari later that day. Cara had gone over to the cellar door for the afternoon shift, and Rose was busy at Trevelyn’s, prepping for another Saturday wedding. Mattie powered up her laptop and clicked on the mocked-up Kalkari website. She turned the screen around so that Mark could navigate through the site. He was silent for several minutes. She really wanted to please her big brother. He’d done so much for her, especially in the last few months, letting her – and her best friend – stay rent-free.
She could hold back no longer. ‘Well?’
Mark looked at her, respect showing in his eyes. ‘Sis, I think it’s bloody brilliant. So much better than what we’ve had in the past. Love it. Love all of it. But …’ Mattie’s spirits deflated.
‘I think the real talent here is in the photography,’ Mark went on. ‘Who knew you could make old Dan look that good?’ He pointed to the screen. ‘And these, of Luisa.’ His eyes glistened as he looked at it. ‘They’re incredible. You’ve completely captured her cheekiness.’
Mattie smiled back at him. ‘Thanks, Mark, that means a lot. It really does.’
‘Actually, you’ve given me an idea. I need to speak to Rose, but I reckon we could hold an exhibition of these photos.’
Mattie was taken aback. ‘Really? Do you really think so?’
‘I’m certain.’
‘Oh wow. But I’ve just been mucking around, really. And now my camera’s been destroyed I’m not sure if I even have enough for something as ambitious as that.’
‘Why don’t you have a look? ’Cause I reckon you do. These are better than someone just mucking around, sweetheart.’ Mark put his arm around her shoulders. ‘What a bloody clever sister I turned out to have.’
‘Hey!’ Mattie protested. ‘I’ve always been clever.’
‘Is that so?’ he teased.
‘Why do you need to speak to Rose?’
‘Well, I think Trevelyn’s Pantry might be the best venue for it.’
‘Oh, I see. Um …’ She paused, not knowing how to frame her doubts. ‘I’m not sure if I can afford the framing costs.’
‘Don’t worry about that – we’ll sort something out. Now, I’ve had another flash of inspiration.’
‘Watch out, Einstein, the world may not be ready for two of your great ideas on the one day.’
‘Do you think you might be up for designing a wine label too?’ He pointed to a close-up she’d taken of rose bushes that bloomed at the end of a row of vines. ‘I want to do a special bottling of our rosé this vintage. I thought Rose might get a kick out of me naming a wine after her. That photo, or something similar, might look really good as part of a label.’
‘Aww, Mark, who knew there was a romantic bone in there somewhere?’ Mattie grinned and elbowed him in the ribs. ‘She’ll love it. How about if we do this one as a black and white shot?’
‘That sounds great. I’m happy to leave the design up to you, but keep it a secret for now. I want to surprise her. I thought I might show her on her birthday. “Rose’s rosé” – what do you think?’
‘Isn’t that a bit ordinary?’
‘Oh. Got any better suggestions?’
‘What about “a rosé by any other name”?’
‘Isn’t that a bit long-winded?’
‘Nah, I don’t think so,’ she said confidently. ‘I reckon I can make it work. Let me mock it up and you’ll see what I mean.’
‘Okay, you’re the expert. But keep it under your hat for now.’
‘Yes, big bro, got the message, loud and clear. And I’m glad you like the website. I’m really pleased, in fact.’
‘So am I, Mattie. So am I. In fact, I’ve got another request.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Do you think you could help me with the rezoning proposal? I’ve got all the evidence together, and Charlie’s helped me out with the report, but we need someone to design it, make it look official …’
Mattie couldn’t refuse him. ‘Of course.’
The exhibition was all organised with lightning speed. Mark spoke to Rose, who agreed that Trevelyn’s Pantry was the perfect venue. A date was set, and Mattie was flat out selecting the best shots, finding someone who could handle the job of producing large-format prints, and figuring out the best way to hang them from Trevelyn’s hundred-year-old walls without causing damage.
Cara raised her eyebrows at Mattie. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
‘I dunno, what are you thinking?’ she asked, mischief in her voice.
‘Road trip!’ they both chanted in unison.
Good, thought Mattie. It would help take Cara’s mind off Jake, who’d been conspicuous by his absence, spending all his time out in the vineyards and not dropping in to the house or the barn as he’d done in previous weeks. She’d never seen her friend so affected by a bloke before, and worried that she might be about to get her heart badly dinged – which would be a first. She sighed. It had to happen to everyone once, she supposed.
‘Do you think Rose would like to come too?’ asked Cara.
‘I reckon we can persuade her. If she doesn’t have too much on at Trevelyn’s. It’d do her good to have a break, she’s been looking exhausted lately.’
‘Cool. We can stay with the olds, and I’d like to go and check out some furniture warehouses. I haven’t had a chance to tell you – the new manager at Spa-kling definitely wants me to sort out their interiors for them. And Lord knows my wardrobe could do with a refresh as well.’
‘You’re kidding, right? All you need is shorts and a t-shirt around here.’
‘Maybe for you.’ Cara wrinkled her nose. ‘But some of us aren’t going to let our standards slip, even if we are out beyond the black stump. Owww!’
Mattie had whacked her friend across the shoulder. ‘You totally deserved that!’
Late that afternoon, Mattie found Rose on the sofa. In all the time she’d been at Kalkari she’d never seen Rose sit down, let alone lie down, in the middle of the day. She was usually a whirl of energy, in perpetual motion from sun-up to sunset. ‘Are you feeling okay?’ Mattie asked.
