A Vintage Summer

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘And in that moment I made a discovery,’ Marjorie said, her bright eyes sparkling at me. ‘I was still me. I was still exactly the same person on the inside. I had two choices: I could spend the rest of my life lamenting the things I couldn’t do or I could focus on the things I could do and eke as much joy out of each day as possible.’

  ‘And you chose joy.’

  ‘You got it.’ She grinned. ‘And I highly recommend it. Don’t worry about the “what could have beens”; focus on the lovely things in life.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  Just then Jensen appeared brandishing bottles of water and a net bag of satsumas and shouting something about vitamin C, followed closely by Betsy tapping her way towards us with her best walking stick. For some reason she had donned a hat and looked like she was off to a wedding.

  Ten minutes later, Marjorie had gone, all the doors were locked, except the winery where Clare was cleaning and labelling some bottles ready for dispatch. (The virtual sales company Jensen had recommended was already proving to be a boon and stocks of the 2015 vintage were diminishing rapidly.) I’d collected my various hospital letters and the three of us were in Jensen’s car. As he started a three-point turn to head towards the drive, a little white Honda hatchback glided smoothly towards us, the driver tooting the horn.

  ‘Jensen, wait,’ I said, leaning forward from the back seat. ‘That’s Godfrey.’

  With a glance at the time, Jensen sighed and put his brakes on and Godfrey came to a halt in front of us. He climbed out of the car and scurried over, waving a sheet of paper excitedly.

  Betsy fumbled to open her passenger window and Jensen pressed a button to do it for her.

  ‘Morning, Godfrey; be a dear and move your car,’ she ordered. ‘We’ve got to get to the hospital.’

  Godfrey was breathing heavily and his smile faltered. ‘Good Lord. Not another emergency?’

  ‘No!’ I said at the same time as Jensen and Betsy both said, ‘Yes!’

  His shoulders drooped. ‘In that case I won’t keep you, it can wait.’

  He looked so deflated that I took pity on him and wound my own window down too. ‘Godfrey, what’s the letter about?’

  He mopped his head with his handkerchief. ‘Not a letter; an email. I logged on this morning and there it was! I read it through twice and printed out copies for you and Betsy and then decided it couldn’t wait, so here I am.’

  Jensen tapped the time on his digital display. ‘Thanks, Godfrey, we’ll read it in the car.’

  Godfrey looked agitated. ‘I did want to discuss it now; it really is rather urgent.’

  And we really did need to leave. ‘What’s the gist of it?’ I asked.

  ‘You remember Olivia Channing? From the open day?’

  ‘English Wine bod,’ Betsy cut in. ‘Yes, yes, what about her?’

  ‘She’s got a slot on national radio next month to talk about English wines and wants someone from Butterworth Wines to go with her.’ The old man’s chest was so puffed out with pride, he looked about to pop. He lowered his voice reverentially. ‘In London. What do you think about that?’

  ‘Next month?’ Betsy gave him a withering look. ‘I think it could have blasted well waited, that’s what I think.’

  His chin wobbled. ‘But she needs an answer today or she’ll offer it to another vineyard.’

  ‘Lottie will do it, won’t you?’ said Betsy blithely.

  ‘Is that wise?’ I said with a gentle laugh. ‘I’ve only been in the wine business five minutes.’

  Godfrey raised a finger timidly. ‘And it needs to be a Butterworth. Or family.’

  Betsy turned to look at her grandson.

  ‘No way.’ He held up a hand. ‘Don’t even think about it; I’m not in the wine business at all.’

  ‘Not yet.’ She batted her eyelashes at him, making him laugh.

  ‘Betsy, why don’t you do it?’ I suggested. ‘I’ll come with you to the studio, you wouldn’t have to go on your own.’

  ‘Thank you, dear, but no.’ She shuddered. ‘I couldn’t cope with London. I just couldn’t. Sorry, Godfrey.’

  I frowned, racking my brains for a solution. ‘We can’t let this opportunity pass us by. It’s too good to miss.’

  Jensen gave me a mischievous look. ‘So if there was a way round it, you’d do it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘In theory but—’

  ‘Okay, got it. Godfrey,’ Jensen said firmly, ‘tell Olivia that Lottie will do it and that she is family because she’s my fiancée.’

  ‘Er …’ I blinked at him. ‘Do I get a say?’

  ‘Of course!’ Betsy hooted with laughter and clapped her hands. ‘Perfect!’

  ‘Goodness.’ Godfrey stared at all three of us, looking bewildered. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Not a word to anyone else,’ Jensen said, fixing the dear old chap with a firm look. ‘It’s on a need-to-know basis only.’

  Godfrey tapped the side of his nose. ‘Got it. Right. Leave the details with me. Oh, this is a good day, a good day indeed. Ted would be so proud.’

  Betsy’s smile wavered and Jensen covered her hands with one of his.

  ‘We’re over the moon,’ she said, stabbing at the buttons on the inside of the door to close her window. Jensen did it for her. ‘Now step on the gas, lover-boy. Today gets better and better.’

  ‘What did you say that for?’ I said when I finally found my voice, envisaging all the awkward conversations ahead.

  ‘You said yourself,’ he grinned boyishly, ‘we’re as close to family as you’ve got right now. Why not go the whole hog?’

  My heart thundered wildly for the entire journey to the hospital as Marjorie’s advice bounced around my head. If I should be focusing on the lovely things in life, could one of them possibly be Jensen?

  Chapter 23

  ‘Feeling comfortable?’ Dulce, the sonographer, asked as she pulled my knickers down so low at the front that Jensen squirmed beside me. I had been, I thought, mortified and wishing that I’d had the foresight to consider my bikini line. I pushed my T-shirt up myself, keeping my bra covered.

  But I nodded. ‘Thanks so much for letting Jensen and Betsy in with me, even though they’re not family.’

  Dulce smiled kindly. Her gentle voice was so soothing that if it hadn’t been for Betsy’s frequent exclamations, and the sensuous way Jensen’s thumb stroked the back of my hand, I’d have found the whole experience very soporific.

  ‘This is your scan; you decide who to have by your side,’ she said, returning to her computer to tap something in. ‘Anyway, don’t they say that the best people in your life are the family you’d choose for yourself?’

  ‘Jensen, your granddad used to say something like that,’ Betsy said. ‘He said family are the ones who show up when you need them most.’

  ‘Like his volunteers at Butterworth Wines,’ Jensen said.

  ‘And you, Lottie. You showed up just when we needed you.’ Betsy took a packet of mints out of her handbag and offered them round before settling back on the visitor’s chair as close to the screen as she could get. ‘And now we’re returning the favour. Right, when does the film start?’

  ‘Behave, Gran,’ Jensen warned.

  ‘Oh shush, this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.’

  ‘Ready?’ Dulce held a tube over my stomach.

  I nodded and then gasped as she squirted some cold gel on to my naked stomach.

  ‘Imagine if it’s twins,’ Betsy said, rustling the wrapper, blithely unaware of just how many times that particular image had visited me under the shadow of darkness.

  ‘Imagine,’ I said with a faint shudder.

  I’d considered almost every eventuality from it being conceived over Christmas when Harvey and I had spent most of the holiday in bed, and therefore due any day, to triplets made during our last week together in June, to being a boy in the absolute image of its father. None of those scenarios filled me with joy.

  Dulce picked up a small device connect
ed to her computer and showed it to me. ‘This is a probe. See this end? It’s got a sensor on it which picks up sound waves when I press …’ She rolled it firmly across the lower part of my stomach. ‘Here.’

  ‘Whoever decided scans should be done on a full bladder must have been a sadist,’ I said, gasping.

  Dulce chuckled. ‘Sorry. We need the bladder full to push the uterus up to get a good view of—’

  ‘A baby!’ Jensen almost collapsed on top of me in his excitement. ‘It’s a baby!’

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ I exclaimed. ‘So it is!’

  There on the screen, unmistakably, was a baby. And as Dulce rolled the probe backwards and forwards and up and down, various parts of it came into view: a disproportionally big head, an oval-shaped body, even the faint lines of its ribs. My baby. I couldn’t drag my eyes from the screen. It was all suddenly and overwhelmingly real.

  ‘Can you tell if everything’s okay?’ I asked in a whisper, hardly daring to breathe in case the picture vanished.

  ‘Here you are, dear.’ Betsy pressed a tissue into my hand; I hadn’t even realized I was crying. She was too; even Jensen had gone a bit misty-eyed.

  Dulce moved the sensor to get a good look at the baby’s body. ‘See the heartbeat, there? One hundred and forty-seven beats per minute.’

  Jensen sucked in air and gripped my hand tighter. ‘That sounds very fast to me.’

  She flashed him a smile. ‘It’s perfectly normal. I’ll take some measurements and then I can work out a due date, Lottie.’

  She clicked and zoomed and muttered under her breath, Betsy did her best to work out what she was seeing and while no one was looking, Jensen pressed a kiss to my cheek.

  ‘Thanks for letting me see this. It’s so amazing. That …’ He nodded to the screen. ‘That’s in you. That little boy or girl is growing inside you.’

  I swallowed the ball of emotion welling up in my throat.

  ‘Good grief,’ Betsy marvelled, elbowing Dulce out of the way to get closer to the monitor as the baby bucked and kicked. ‘Well, it’s definitely a boy; even I can make that out.’

  Dulce’s shoulders shook as she let out a tiny giggle. ‘And there’s baby’s leg,’ she corrected gently.

  ‘Easy mistake.’ Betsy folded her arms, unfazed, and we all laughed.

  Half an hour later, all the tests were complete. I’d had bloods taken, produced a urine sample (gladly) and paid for my scan photographs, one of which Betsy was still squinting over. I was fourteen weeks’ pregnant; my baby was due in February and was currently the size of a lemon and it might have been psychosomatic but, by the time we reached the car, Jensen reckoned that I’d already developed a bit of a waddle.

  I climbed into the back, trying out an ‘oof’ sound as I sat down and turned on my phone. Jensen started the engine and drove us out of the car park as a text message from Evie pinged on to my screen:

  Well how did it go? When will I be an auntie? IS IT TWINS???

  Just one healthy baby. Due February 10. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.

  So happy for you. Did you get a pic?

  I sent a shot of the scan photo to her and she replied straight back.

  Oh Lottie, so cute. I think he’s waving at me. Made me cry xxx

  Me too. Even Jensen shed a tear.

  Jensen and Lottie sitting in a tree …

  Shut up

  Actually Darren and I have news …

  TELL ME

  We’re adopting two boys …

  The car swerved as Jensen and Betsy both whirled round at the sound of my gasp, which turned to a swoop of laughter as another picture appeared on my phone from Evie: two lovely grey and white dogs, tongues lolling and doleful brown eyes looking straight at the camera.

  Meet Roni and Skipper, two English Setters rescued by Agnes, who’ll be coming to live with me and Darren as soon as we can possibly get them home. I love them so much – can’t wait for us to be a family!

  Family, I thought; we might not get to choose them, but anyone in the Allbright family was guaranteed to be cocooned in love. I rested my hand lightly on my tummy. And that includes you.

  Later that evening Jensen found me in the vineyard crouching down, checking up on the Chardonnay vines that Sidney had advised me on. They were looking a lot healthier already.

  ‘Should you still be working this late in the day?’

  ‘This isn’t work,’ I said hastily, brushing the dried mud from my knees and hands. ‘This is an evening stroll to say goodnight to the grapes.’

  He grinned. ‘My granddad would have loved you.’

  I glanced at my watch. ‘Talking of granddads, I’ll be delivering the new baby news to my dad tonight.’

  ‘I’ll walk up to your cottage with you if you like,’ he said, offering a hand to pull me up. ‘I’m leaving now.’

  I accepted his help gratefully and took hold of his strong warm hand. He steadied me with his other hand on my elbow as I half stumbled into him.

  ‘You’re not staying the night?’ I said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

  ‘I’d love to but I’ve got to go home and pack.’ He brushed a dried leaf from the front of my T-shirt. ‘I’m flying to Cape Town on Sunday for work and I’ve got a report to finish tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, in that case I’m doubly grateful that you made the time for me today. Um …’ I opened my mouth and closed it again.

  There was a question on my mind – more than one, actually – but now that I had the perfect chance to ask it, I wasn’t sure I could.

  He grinned. ‘What are you thinking?’

  I took a deep breath, working myself up to it, and he patiently took his sunglasses out of his breast pocket and polished them on his shirt.

  ‘Okay, I’ll ask, and I want you to be honest,’ I said, which was only partly true. Because if he didn’t feel the same as me, I wasn’t sure how I was going to cope.

  ‘I’m nervous already.’ He peered down at me from under a blond curl which had flopped over one eye. I’d thought he was gorgeous the first time I met him and now I knew him, I liked him even more. It took all of my self-control not to brush my fingers through his hair and pull his face close to mine.

  ‘Does me being pregnant change how you feel about me? I mean me and you?’ I blurted out in a rush. Please say it doesn’t. ‘If it does, I’d understand. It’s just that I’d rather know the truth because you asked me to dinner three weeks ago and you haven’t mentioned it since. Which is absolutely fine.’

  I was gabbling so much that the expression in Jensen’s dark blue eyes was morphing from amused to alarmed, but I was on a roll and I couldn’t stop.

  ‘But then last Sunday you kissed me – a really good kiss, by the way, one of the best ever,’ I assured him.

  His lips twitched and he looked as if he was about to speak so I jumped in again swiftly.

  ‘And now I don’t know whether it was a one-off or are we regular kissers. I mean, at the hospital you kissed my cheek, which was nice, but not quite the same. And I know I’m not a great catch or anything, particularly now I’m a primigravida, but I’m a bit confused and I’d like to know what you’re thinking. That’s all.’

  ‘That was direct.’ He blinked at me. ‘And long.’

  ‘And really embarrassing.’ I fanned my face. ‘God, what am I thinking? Sorry, you can leave now if you want to.’ I wanted to leave. In fact, I wanted to plunge into the nearest bushy vine and hide.

  He reached for my hand and stepped closer, bringing it to his lips. It was such a tender and gentlemanly gesture that it made me feel light-headed. I looked down through the gap between us to our feet.

  ‘I don’t want to leave yet.’ His breath felt warm on the back of my hand as he spoke. ‘I guess soon we won’t be able to do this.’

  Which told me all I needed to know.

  ‘No,’ I blinked at him despondently.

  ‘Because the baby will get in the way.’

  ‘I know.’


  His gaze was steady and my hand felt at home in his, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I knew he was making a joke about the size of my bump but was this also his way of telling me that my pregnancy was going to be an emotional barrier to any future relationship?

  ‘Is that your answer to my question?’

  ‘No, Lottie, it isn’t.’ He exhaled. ‘I’m just not very good at this. Can we go inside?’

  I let us in to my cottage, propped the door open to let in the evening air and poured us both a glass of fizzy water. Jensen leaned against the kitchen worktop and flicked through the notes I’d been making about the change in temperature and the recent rainfall – I was taking a leaf out of Ted’s notebooks, so to speak.

  ‘I’d offer you a glass of the new Blanc de Noir I’ve been tasting,’ I said, handing him his drink, ‘but you’re driving and I’m trying to cut back.’

  He shot me a worried look. ‘Should you be drinking at all?’

  ‘I’m joking,’ I laughed. ‘I’ve become an excellent spitter; I haven’t swallowed for ages.’

  He chewed his lip trying not to laugh. ‘Good to know.’

  ‘I’m ignoring that comment.’ I reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of sparkling wine. ‘But I would like you to take this home with you to try. It’s the 2016 Classic Cuvée that Sidney worked on with Clare and Matt; it’s the nicest fizz I’ve ever tasted.’

  Jensen grinned. ‘And to think you used to say you knew nothing about wine.’

  ‘A lot has changed since then. If you’d have told me how protective I’d become of this vineyard and the grapes and all the people here, well, I wouldn’t have believed you. But now I’m a complete convert; I want to tell the world how fantastic Butterworth Wines are.’

  He laughed softly and looked down at his feet. ‘You don’t make things easy for me, do you?’