Angel's Share

by Kayte Nunn

  ‘Mmm?’ Rose stirred. ‘Sure. Just having a little lie-down.’

  ‘Maybe you’re working too hard?’ Mattie suggested.

  Rose sat up slowly. ‘Things are busy at Trevelyn’s, but I’ve coped with hard work before and never been this buggered. And with the kids away, there’s a lot less for me to do here. I don’t know. Maybe it’s the weather. It’s getting so hot again.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got an idea that you might like. How do you fancy a few days chilling out in Sydney? A girls’ road trip. We can go out to dinner, go shopping …’

  Rose brightened. ‘Sounds good to me. When were you thinking of going? I’ve got another wedding this weekend, but after that it’s pretty quiet.’

  ‘Next week is perfect. I’ve got to pick the prints up from the framers – oh, and do you think we can take your car? I’d never get them in the back of mine.’

  Rose nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Cara says we can stay at her parents’ place – they’ve got heaps of space, and it’s close to the city. Now, where do you fancy eating? Should I book?’

  ‘Ooh, I’ve been meaning to go and check out a few new restaurants. I could do with some inspiration for our summer menu.’

  ‘Okay, let me know where and then consider it done.’

  The girls arrived in Sydney with enough time to leave their bags at Cara’s parents and hop on a ferry to the city for lunch. It was a perfect day and the water glittered, its serene blue perfectly reflecting the colour of the sky. They all breathed in the salty air, tipping their faces to the sun like flowers. ‘This is exactly what I needed,’ Rose called to Mattie over the thrum of the ferry’s engines. ‘I feel better already.’

  Moments later, they were seated at a waterfront table, starched white linen napkins unfurled and toasting the trip with a bottle of bubbles. Across the water, the Opera House shone, its white sails pristine against the blue of the sky.

  ‘Here’s cheers, ladies,’ said Cara, raising her glass. ‘Now, what’s the plan of attack? After we’ve eaten I vote we hop in a cab and hit Bondi Junction. Then if we’ve got the energy, we can pop over to Double Bay.’

  ‘I need to make it to the framers in Surry Hills before they close at five,’ said Mattie. But I can always leave you to shop and go over on my own.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Rose, taking a sip from her glass. ‘Ugh.’ She made a face.

  ‘What?’ asked Mattie. ‘Is there something wrong with it? We can send it back if there is.’

  ‘I’m not sure. Just doesn’t taste that great.’

  Cara looked suspiciously at her. ‘Is there perhaps something you’d like to tell us, Rose?’

  Rose looked confused. ‘What?’ Cara fixed her with an intense stare. ‘What?’ Rose repeated.

  ‘Er, Rose,’ said Cara, ‘do you think … well, do you think there’s a chance you might be —’

  ‘Pregnant?’ Rose finished, her face colouring. She looked embarrassed, as if caught out. ‘Actually, I’ve been trying to convince myself I’m not. Guess I’m not doing a very good job of it.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  ‘I reckon that’s it,’ said Mattie, standing back to check the last frame as it hung suspended on wire from the ceiling. Two weeks after they returned from Sydney they’d finally finished ‘bumping in’, as Cara called it, arranging the thirty images around the rough white walls of Trevelyn’s. The damage to her camera meant that she hadn’t had a lot to choose from, but as she looked over the images, she knew she’d made the right selection. A close-up of a curling vine tendril, a panoramic vineyard scene with the Shingle Hills in the distance, the weathered hands of a worker using pruning shears, a shed filled with barrels, a tender shot of Rose and Mark silhouetted against the sandstone of the house … Together they formed a shorthand picture of life in the valley, of its joys and its heartbreaks, of the land and those who worked it to bring forth wines with soul and passion – a true reflection of this very special piece of earth. She let out a satisfied breath. It had come together even better than she’d pictured it in her mind’s eye, the black and white images conveying the raw beauty she saw from the vantage point of the camera lens. She’d thought she’d been busy in London, but what with organising the exhibition and then designing the proposal for Mark, she’d been flat out. And never happier. She’d also included some of her photos in the proposal document, showing the valley in all its glory: the vines, the cellar doors, people tasting, barrels being checked, the sweep of the landscape. It made a pretty compelling argument for turning the entire valley over to wine production and tourism. She hoped it would be enough. Mark and Charlie had a meeting with Jeremy Bell to present it to him in two days’ time.

  ‘It looks amazing,’ said Cara, who’d been helping her get everything ready.

  ‘Incredible,’ agreed Rose, who’d been in the kitchen, busy with the mise en place for the exhibition opening that night. Local media and members of the Kalkari Wines club had been invited, along with their friends from some of the surrounding wineries. Rose was putting together charcuterie plates, terrines and cheeses to feed the hungry masses and soak up some of the wine that was going to be there for tasting.

  ‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ Mattie looked pointedly at Rose’s stomach, which had the barest hint of roundness.

  ‘Don’t be daft. I’ve never felt better – well, as long as I keep eating, that is.’ Rose laughed and crunched on a carrot stick.

  ‘Have you told Mark yet?’

  Rose looked evasive. ‘Er, not yet. I’m waiting for the right moment.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose firmly. ‘It’s got to be right.’

  ‘Okay. You know him as well as I do.’ Mattie shrugged. It was between Mark and Rose, though if it had been her she would have been shouting it from the rooftops. ‘So how many are we expecting?’ she asked, refocusing on the exhibition. She’d been caught up in preparing the photographs and not taken too much notice of the rest of the plans.

  ‘Oh, about a hundred,’ said Rose cheerfully.

  Mattie gulped. ‘A hundred? Shit. I was thinking it was going to be a handful of locals. Way to make me feel exposed.’ This was her, up there on the walls: her vision, her perspective, her soul bared for all to see.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Cara. ‘You should be proud – these are truly amazing. I reckon I might not be the only one who’s found herself a new career, babe.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Mattie, feeling a thrill of pleasure at Cara’s compliments. ‘It’s a shame Jake won’t be here as well. That’s a great shot of him there.’ She indicated a black and white portrait that highlighted his gypsy charm, the whites of his eyes and his teeth gleaming in contrast to his tawny skin. He’d been at his family’s home in Adelaide for the previous week.

  ‘Mark told me yesterday that his father passed away in the early hours of the morning. Jake’s staying on for the funeral and to help his mum and sisters out,’ Rose said.

  ‘Oh no, I hadn’t heard that. How is he doing?’ asked Cara.

  ‘Okay, I think,’ added Rose. ‘It’s gotta be tough though. His father had been ill, but this was far more sudden than they’d thought.’

  Just then the door opened and Mark strode into the room. He stopped and stared. ‘Wow, sis. These look incredible.’

  Mattie gave him a proud smile. ‘Thanks, mate. And thanks again for the opportunity.’

  ‘It works both ways – gives our new-release tasting some added class,’ he said jokingly. ‘We might do it again at the Shingle Valley museum auction in the city. That is, if you’ve any left after tonight.’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t expecting to sell them,’ she said to Mark.

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘You really think people will want to buy them?’

  ‘Hell, yes!’ said Cara and Mark together.

  ‘I’ll buy one off you right now,’ said Rose. ‘I love the one of Mark and me in front of the house. Name your price.
In fact, you’d better put together a price list for all of them.’

  ‘Well, I’m certainly not going to sell my work to my brother and his partner, the very people who happen to be putting a roof over my head and helping me hold this exhibition!’ Mattie protested.

  ‘Consider it rent paid in full then,’ said Mark.

  ‘Up until the end of the year,’ Rose added, laughing.

  By eight o’clock that night the restaurant was heaving, a roar of conversation coming from the crowd, who were there to taste, gossip and socialise. Rose had opened up the doors leading to the garden, letting guests spill out onto the verandah. Brock Doyd had managed to score an invite and made a beeline for Cara, who was looking uncharacteristically demure, wearing a Peter Pan-collared black shirt and pencil skirt, her long blonde hair twisted into a severe bun. It was only when she turned around that Mattie noticed that the shirt was backless, showing off smooth, alabaster skin almost to the cleft in her buttocks. Brock nearly choked on his wine as he saw her rear view. ‘How are you, Cara?’ he said, regaining his composure as she turned to face him once more.

  ‘Terrific, Broccoli – whoops! I mean Brock. How about you?’

  Mattie was keeping a lookout for Charlie. It had been a week or so since she’d last seen him and she’d found herself, in idle moments, thinking fondly of their Sunday hike, the easy conversation and the way he made her laugh over the stupidest things. But he was off-limits, she reminded herself. They could only ever be friends. He hadn’t mentioned Marie-Claire at all so she had to assume they were still working things out. She could see Thommo, so like his brother, over near the kitchen with Astrid, but there was no sign of the older twin.

  ‘Hi, Thommo,’ she said going over to him.

  ‘Mattie! What amazing photographs. I had no idea you were so talented.’ He bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Truth be told I’m still coming to terms with seeing my work blown up so large; it’s quite confronting.’

  ‘I wonder what Charlie will think of them. Especially that one.’ He pointed across the room. ‘I guess we’ll find out soon enough,’ he said as he looked over to the door, where his brother had just walked in.

  Mattie couldn’t help it; her heart leapt at the sight of him, his untidy mop of curls, broad shoulders and cheeky grin. He leaned down to kiss her hello and she inhaled his warm, clean, masculine scent. ‘Charlie. Thanks for coming,’ she said, trying to gather her scattered wits. He gave her butterflies in her stomach like no one else ever had. ‘I really appreciate the support,’ she said to both brothers.

  ‘I couldn’t miss the chance to see the artist’s work for myself,’ said Charlie. ‘Are you going to give me the guided tour?’

  ‘If you like. Come this way.’

  ‘Who’s this bloke, then?’ he said when they got to the shot she’d taken of him that winter in the vineyard. A glint in his eye and a larrikin smile on his face. ‘Pretty good model, if I do say so myself.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ she said, pretending to consider it. ‘He wasn’t bad. I might even use him again.’

  Charlie stayed by her side for the rest of the evening, only leaving it to bring her wine as her glass emptied. By the end of the night her photographs were a sea of red ‘Sold’ stickers and Mattie was on cloud nine. Perhaps, like Cara, she too had found a new career?

  But before she could forge a new path, she had one more thing to do.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ Mattie said the following morning as she and Mark and Charlie were in his study going through the proposal one final time before the next day’s meeting. Mattie had changed into one of her old London work suits, even donning heels and slicking back her hair. She knew that if she was to have any hope of convincing them to let her be a part of the presentation she had to look the part, even for the dress rehearsal she had planned for them. She placed her hands on her hips and lifted her chin defiantly as Mark looked up from the proposal document she had prepared. Including images and maps, it ran to more than fifty pages.

  He raised his eyebrows when he saw her outfit. ‘What?’

  ‘Hear me out, Mark. One of the things I did best in my job in London was to present strategies. Advertising, marketing, rezoning – it’s all essentially the same thing. We have to sell this to Jeremy Bell. It’s a pitch. I’m the best person for this job.’

  Mattie took the document from him, clicked onto a slide presentation she’d put together and began to speak. Ten minutes later, Mark gave Mattie a low whistle.

  ‘Now I get the reason for the fancy duds,’ he said. ‘Well, I’m sold. How about you, Charlie?’

  Charlie gave Mattie a nod. ‘She’s got the gig.’

  Neither of them noticed her wipe her sweating hands on her trousers. She gathered up the presentation materials and was just about to close her laptop when she noticed an email. From Jamie Soames.

  She left Charlie and Mark in the study and took her laptop to the back verandah. As she sat down, Gin came and curled up next to her. She gave the cat a distracted stroke before opening the message.

  She gave an involuntary gasp as she read his email. Jamie had been so impressed with her work on the DeVere spring jewels campaign. He was looking for a creative director. He mentioned an eye-watering salary, her own office, a car, complete creative control for the future of the business. Would she be interested? He needed a quick decision.

  It was the kind of job Mattie had dreamed of. It was all she could do to stop herself replying there and then.

  Mattie was up early for the drive to Sydney for the presentation. They had to be in Macquarie Street for 11am sharp and Mattie had insisted that they plan to get there at least an hour early. ‘We can’t risk being late.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mats. We’ll get there in plenty of time,’ Charlie said. They were driving to the city together, Mark having left at lunchtime the day before for a meeting with his wine distributors.

  ‘Who are we presenting to, apart from Jeremy?’ she asked.

  ‘The planning and environment minister, the tourism minister and the local government minister, according to Mark.’

  ‘Quite a line-up.’

  She noticed, as they sped along the highway, that Charlie was uncharacteristically quiet. Perhaps it was the early morning, or the gravity of the situation weighing on them both, but they spoke little, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Once they’d parked and found the offices, there was plenty of time for a coffee. Mattie got out her phone to call Mark, and Charlie ordered for them. They’d arranged to meet him twenty minutes before the meeting, but she just wanted to check everything was okay. She saw a text from her brother.

  ‘Oh Christ!’

  ‘What’s up?’ said Charlie, who’d returned with their coffees.

  ‘Mark. He can’t make the meeting!’

  ‘What?’ His cup shook as he replaced it on the saucer.

  ‘Apparently something’s up with Rose. He’s had to drive back to Kalkari.’

  ‘Faark! That’s all we need. No offence to Rose, of course, but this meeting’s really important.’

  ‘He knows that. It must be serious for him to miss it.’ Mattie tried dialling his number but the call rang through to his voicemail.

  She put her phone down and they looked at each other, both quietly horrified. ‘It’s just you and me, mate,’ she said.

  Agitated, Charlie ran his hands though his hair.

  ‘Don’t stress. It’ll all be fine,’ she reassured him, taking a deep breath. ‘I’ve done hundreds of these things. I’ll cover Mark’s part of the preso – I know it inside out and backwards in any case, I’ve spent that much time on it, and you know your stuff, right?’

  Charlie nodded and looked at her in admiration. ‘You’re a pretty cool customer, Tilly Cameron.’

  ‘Come on then,’ she said, all business. ‘Let’s go and sock it to ’em.’

  More than an hour later, the two emerged from t
he building into bright sunlight. Mattie and Charlie looked at each other, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration on their faces.

  ‘How do you think it went?’ he asked.

  ‘They sure put us through the wringer. But at least they listened, and asked the right questions. Which, I might add, you were able to answer with ease.’

  He grinned. ‘You weren’t too bad yourself, Mats. Especially when Jeremy asked about revenue projections.’

  ‘Well, that was all Mark’s work, but thank Christ his figures were sound.’ The warm day had meant that her hair, which had been slicked back, was now falling around her face again and she impatiently brushed it away. ‘I think I need a walk before we drive back,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten about that kind of pressure.’

  ‘It didn’t show. When we were in there, I mean. You were amazing. You’re a woman of many talents, Mattie Cameron – presenter, photographer, exotic dancer …’

  She turned away so he couldn’t see her blush. So he hadn’t forgotten about that night in the club. ‘How about we go down by the water?’ she said.

  ‘Exactly what I had in mind. It’s not far away and it’ll be cooler down there.’

  ‘Let me just try to call Mark again.’ Mattie dialled, but there was no answer. She left a brief message telling him that the presentation had gone as well as could be expected and that she hoped everything was okay with Rose. As she was about to hang up, she noticed a missed call from her dad. What could he want? She dialled his number as they walked towards the harbour.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  The morning of the meeting, Rose had been woken by a dull ache in her lower back. She’d seen the doctor a few days after returning from Sydney and he had confirmed her suspicions with a blood test. ‘Judging by your dates you’re about ten weeks along,’ he said, ‘though your hormone levels are rather high. But that could just mean it’s a good strong pregnancy.’