A Vintage Summer

by Cathy Bramley

  She pulled a face. ‘I’m awash with the stuff. No, I came to give you this letter.’

  She reached into her fleece, retrieved a rather bent envelope and handed it over to me.

  ‘So there really was a letter for me!’ I said before realizing my mistake.

  She looked confused. ‘Well, you did ask me to check Ted’s office. I suppose we should stop calling it that now. And I managed to send some tweets. Olivia immediately retweeted them and we’ve had some new followers …’

  I sank on to a dining chair, not really listening; the envelope was too interesting. It was handwritten and postmarked London. I tore it open with a mix of dread and anticipation. I didn’t recognize the handwriting which meant it wasn’t likely to be from Harvey, but I wouldn’t have put it past him to disguise his writing. Or it could be from Jensen.

  Please let it be from Jensen.

  I pulled two sheets of paper from the envelope clumsily, desperate to see who it was from.

  It was from Jensen.

  My heart swelled with joy. He had written to me after all. I tuned back into Marjorie, willing her to go so I could read the letter in private. She’d stopped talking and her eyes were wide open in surprise.

  ‘The ring!’ She pointed at my fake engagement ring.

  I fiddled with it, feeling my cheeks heat up. Now I was going to have to explain why I was wearing it and make an idiot of myself in the process. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’

  She nodded. ‘It’s the Butterworth ring.’

  I frowned. ‘Well, Jensen gave it to me, but he just got it from T—’

  ‘Ted,’ Marjorie supplied before I could say Topshop. ‘His granddad left it to him. It’s very valuable. Oh, Lottie.’

  Her expression had gone all dreamy and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

  ‘But …’ I stared down at the ring I’d casually chucked in my drawer when I got back from London ten days ago.

  Now that I looked at it, it was obviously the real thing. How could I ever have thought it was costume jewellery? It was heavy and felt solid but more than that … it was exquisite. Oh God. My spirits sank. That was probably what he was writing to me about: he wanted the family heirloom back. I slipped it off my finger and put it on the table.

  ‘I had no idea,’ I said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  Marjorie could hardly keep the lid on her excitement.

  ‘That ring has been passed down the Butterworth male line for several generations. Ted and Ron’s father gave it to their mother when he proposed to her.’ She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘And now Jensen has given it to you. I must admit, Betsy and I did wonder when we heard that radio presenter, Fiona Thingumabob talking about it.’

  ‘Please don’t read anything into it.’ My mouth had gone dry. ‘Really. We had to pretend to be engaged so that I’d be eligible to do the radio interview, that was all. We’re just friends.’

  Friends who currently weren’t speaking, although perhaps this letter might provide me with some answers …

  ‘If you say so.’ She pursed her lips mischievously. ‘Now I’m going to take myself back across the yard and batten down the hatches. And if you’ve got any sense, you’ll do the same.’

  She refused my offer of help but I opened the door for her and watched her battle against the wind across the yard to Betsy’s before shutting it and swooping down on Jensen’s letter like a starling on a juicy grape.

  It had been posted a week ago. My insides clenched: poor man, he must have thought I’d received it and hadn’t cared enough to reply. But by the time I got to the bottom, my own heart was in shreds and tears were dripping down my face. I’d never before received a love letter that doubled up as a ‘goodbye’.

  Dearest Lottie,

  Thank you for your messages and for the letter. I’ve loved hearing your voice on my answerphone and reading your texts, even though it does make it harder to get over you. I wish things were different. But we are where we are and I need to put some distance between us and forget what might have been.

  In case you’re unsure what you mean to me, I’m going to tell you one last time.

  You rocked up in a van of all things, with those adorable green eyes and glossy hair that makes me want to bury my face in it, and from the moment you arrived on Gran’s doorstep, the sun came out. Not just at Butterworth Wines but in my life too. The crazy girl who can fill potholes, wield a chainsaw and climb trees stole my heart and there’ll never be anyone else like you. You claim not to be ambitious, but your natural optimism and determination come through in everything you do and everyone around you is swept along in your tide of enthusiasm. This is a great gift and I know it will stand you in good stead in the months to come.

  Lottie, you’re going to be a great mum. And on February the tenth I’ll be holding my breath for you and wishing you and the baby every happiness.

  Now the tough bit. When I saw you with Harvey, kissing on your doorstep, it tore me apart. I was surprised after what you’d told me about him but I was glad too. Glad that you were giving your relationship another chance. In other circumstances, I’d have fought for you, tried to convince you that we could be good together, but I know how much a happy family life means to you, and to me too. And this isn’t just about us. Your baby is the most important person right now. And if you two have got a hope of giving that kid two loving parents, then I’m not going to stand in your way. So even though it hurts like hell, I’m doing the honourable thing and stepping aside.

  I’m leaving for Cape Town on October the first and after that, I’d ask you to only get in contact with me if it’s to do with Gran’s health. Be happy.

  Ek is lief vir jou

  Jensen xxx

  It was the first today. I wondered what time his flight was; he’d probably already gone. My lungs felt crushed and I fought for breath, gulping in air while my brain was whirring wondering how I could stop this from happening. He cared about me. As much as I cared for him. Why hadn’t he believed me when I’d promised that there was nothing between me and Harvey any more? There was no need for him to step aside; he was single, I was single and there was absolutely no reason why we couldn’t be together. There had to be a way to sort this out. I wasn’t going to give up on us. And what on earth did Ek is lief vir jou mean?

  The baby started to kick. It was less of a tickly sensation these days and more like having a bouncy ball flung repeatedly at my insides. Maybe there was still time. I grabbed my phone and called his number, pacing back and forth while I waited for it to connect and rubbing my other hand over my tummy in circles, as if the baby would be my good-luck charm.

  Come on, Jensen, pick up.

  I tried three times, and each time it went straight to voicemail. Now what? My heart was thumping so hard I could hardly hear myself think … If I lived nearer to Heathrow, I’d hightail it to the airport like something out of a film. I’d yell, ‘I LOVE YOU, DON’T GO!’ across the barriers and the crowds would part like the Red Sea until it was just him and me and the most amazing make-up kiss …

  The door banged open, literally swinging on its hinges and startling the life out of me, as Evie blew in.

  ‘Jeez. It’s unbelievable out there.’ She slammed it shut, panting. ‘I think you should call a halt to the grape-picking, Lottie, it’s too dangerous. There are loose twigs and debris flying about all over the place … Lottie, are you okay? You’re rubbing your stomach really hard.’

  Was I? I looked down; my T-shirt was all crumpled.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said vaguely as a stab of guilt hit me; I’d been so caught up with Jensen’s letter that I’d deserted my post and ignored all the kind volunteers who were out there braving the elements.

  ‘Sure?’ Evie frowned, unconvinced.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said, shoving my arms in my coat. ‘People’s safety is more important than grapes.’

  ‘Tuck your hair in or you won’t be able to see,’ she said, reaching for the door. ‘Ready?’
/>   I nodded, scooping my hair up into a ponytail.

  She opened the door and we both stepped outside. The wind whistled round my ears so loudly that although I could see Evie’s mouth moving, I couldn’t hear a thing. Above us, the sky was charcoal grey and menacing. The noise of the trees blowing and bending so violently sounded like the roar of the sea. In the distance I heard a rumble and I felt a wave of fear ripple through me.

  ‘Is that thunder?’ I yelled, but Evie didn’t hear me. I grabbed her arm to lead her to the double gates at the side entrance to the vineyard. Matt came running up behind us and tapped my shoulder. I spun around to read his lips.

  ‘The rain will be here in minutes,’ he bellowed, holding his palms up.

  I nodded. It wasn’t raining yet, but it was in the air, I could feel it. ‘I’m calling the harvest off now.’

  He stuck his thumb up. ‘Just tell people to pick up a crate, even if it’s only half-full and bring it to the winery.’

  Evie shouted as loud as she could. ‘I’ll run right to the bottom and let as many know as I can. Lottie, you focus on the top section.’ She sprinted off and I envied how nimble she was. Even if I hadn’t been pregnant, my feet were aching too much to run like that.

  ‘Where’s Clare and the quadbike?’ I yelled.

  He pointed to the path. ‘She and Ben are loading up the trailer with the last full crates.’

  Overhead there was a second thunder roll and the two of us separated: me towards the vineyard and Matt back to the winery.

  ‘Stay safe,’ he warned, calling over his shoulder.

  The quadbike was heading towards me between the line of conifers and the first row of vines. The tall thin evergreens were swaying dangerously from side to side and even from a distance, I could see Clare was frightened. She was clinging on for dear life, lying almost flat over the steering wheel and driving at a snail’s pace so as not to tip up the trailer and lose the precious cargo. She hadn’t even spotted me so I stepped back, pressing myself into the trees out of her way as she passed by.

  Just then Godfrey appeared at the end of the row, staggering under the weight of a full crate, with Starsky yapping at his feet. The dog ran out in front of the quadbike and I yelped in horror.

  ‘STOP!’ I cried, barely able to look.

  Clare spotted the dog at the last second and jammed on the brakes. I don’t think she’d even heard me, although Starsky had. He scampered up to me unharmed.

  ‘You silly dog!’ I said, scooping him up out of harm’s way.

  Godfrey heaved the crate on to the trailer and waved at Clare to carry on.

  ‘I’m done in,’ he shouted, his plump frame being buffeted by the wind as he approached. ‘Absolutely cream-crackered.’

  I put Starsky down and kissed the old man’s cheek. ‘We’re all stopping now,’ I yelled back. ‘Would you mind letting Betsy know? Perhaps she and Marjorie could sort out some tea and biscuits.’

  He nodded and patted his leg to attract Starsky’s attention. ‘Come on, fella, let’s go in.’

  The two of them set off uphill and I headed across the top of the rows of vines to look for the others. I was halfway across the width of the vineyard when I heard an almighty cracking sound followed by a long creak and a crash.

  I froze: my experience as a tree surgeon told me a tree was coming down. Someone shouted and then I heard the dog bark again.

  I turned and retraced my steps, running as fast as I could to the edge of the vineyard, cursing my own forgetfulness. It was that third tree along; I could see the gap it had left already. How stupid of me not to have got it cut down before the storm came. It was an accident waiting to happen. Thank goodness Clare had already got through safely.

  Still running, I rounded the edge of the row but Roger overtook me. The dead tree had gone straight down across the first two rows, taking the vines, posts and wires with it. Starsky was barking like mad, and trapped underneath the trunk, face down, was Godfrey.

  My heart missed a beat and I surged forward, joining Roger as he dived to the ground. ‘Godfrey, are you all right, old chap, can you hear me?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Godfrey wheezed. ‘I dropped my glove, bent down to pick it up and the next second, I’d been knocked over. Actually, my legs feel a bit sore.’

  Roger and I exchanged a glance; they looked worse than ‘a bit sore’. Roger tried to lift the trunk but he couldn’t shift it.

  ‘Where is everybody?’ I cried. ‘We need help!’

  ‘Where’s your chainsaw?’ Dad shouted as he and Agnes ran towards us. ‘And ropes?’

  ‘Your van,’ I said, relieved. ‘It’s open.’

  Dad jogged off and thankfully Starsky scampered after him out of harm’s way. Agnes knelt down beside Godfrey. ‘We will have this tree off you very quickly. Do not worry.’

  Right on cue, just as I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, the sky cracked with an ear-splitting roll of thunder, the heavens opened and the rain started. Within seconds it was torrential.

  Godfrey was moaning with pain.

  ‘We need to call an ambulance,’ I said, trying to think straight. ‘But I left my phone inside the cottage.’

  ‘I don’t have one either. Hang on in there, old thing,’ Roger shouted.

  ‘I do not also.’ Agnes shook her head.

  Godfrey was sweating and he screwed his eyes up. Agnes and I exchanged worried looks. Next would come lightning and given our current run of luck, the last thing we needed was to be struck by that too.

  Agnes looked up. ‘Here come some more people.’

  It was Matt and three other men I hadn’t seen before who must have arrived while I was sleeping.

  ‘Call an ambulance,’ I yelled and one of the men did.

  ‘If we can lift the tree a little, we might be able to pull him free,’ Matt shouted.

  ‘The tree’s been dead for a while,’ I yelled, shivering. ‘We might manage to move it between us.’

  ‘You’re not lifting anything,’ Matt warned. ‘Out of the way.’

  ‘Be quick,’ shouted Agnes, brushing water from her face. ‘He is very grey.’

  Roger leaned over Godfrey who’d stopped making any noise. ‘Hang on in there, chum, have you out in a jiffy.’

  ‘If we take some of the weight off here,’ I said, gesturing to the mid-section of the trunk, ‘we can ease him out.’

  ‘I’ve got it!’ It was Dad. He was wearing a hard hat with ear defenders attached and had found the chainsaw and a length of rope.

  I let out a shaky breath. This would soon be over. Thank heavens Dad was here.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Clare gasped breathlessly, sliding on the wet grass as she joined us.

  ‘Godfrey’s hurt and I think he might be drifting in and out of consciousness,’ I said. ‘Can you wait in the yard and direct the ambulance?’

  She nodded and ran back uphill, slithering in the mud.

  I grabbed hold of the rope, threaded it under the trunk and tied a knot.

  ‘Everyone out of the way,’ Dad ordered and started up the chainsaw. The roar of it made everyone take a step backwards.

  He sliced into the trunk. I dug my feet into the slippery ground and pulled on the rope. There were alarm bells going off in my head; I knew I was being foolish, but I couldn’t let anything happen to Godfrey. And anyway I wasn’t alone; behind me, Matt grabbed the rope and several others behind him did the same. With a concerted effort, we pulled the top section of the tree clear of Godfrey’s legs. My arms ached, my thighs were quivering and my stomach was taut from clenching my muscles; I was exhausted – physically and mentally.

  ‘Careful!’ Agnes cried, trying to protect the old man from falling branches.

  ‘Uhhhhh.’ Godfrey’s eyes flickered open.

  ‘Godfrey!’ I sank to the muddy floor in relief and sobbed as if my heart would break. ‘Thank goodness.’

  I was wet through and covered in mud. Storm Sandra was in full force and I didn’t have the energy to
fight her any more. I put my hand on my tummy to soothe the baby, but it was still, at least it had stopped head-butting me. You’re tired too, eh? Like Mummy. I’m so tired, so very tired …

  There was a stabbing pain along my side. I pressed my hand into it, flopping over on to my hip, and winced. I’d probably strained a muscle lifting that tree trunk. Still, no harm done, crisis over. Around me the activity continued: Dad sawing the tree into pieces and everyone rolling sections of the trunk away. I vaguely registered the sound of a siren and then someone leaning over me.

  ‘Lottie? Lottie, it’s Evie, don’t cry, lovely girl. Come on, let’s get you inside. Godfrey’s going to be okay, a paramedic has arrived.’

  The roar of the chainsaw stopped and I heard people running and Godfrey groaning and Agnes’s voice soothing him. The rain and the wind were relentless. Evie brushed strands of my hair from my face and then swore under her breath.

  ‘What the hell?’ said a gruff male voice. It was vaguely familiar, but I was too tired to open my eyes.

  ‘Everything’s going to be fine now, Lottie,’ Evie murmured. ‘Let’s get you inside, you need some rest.’

  Someone lifted me up roughly. I didn’t register who it was or have the words to whisper my thanks. I tried to say that they’d got the wrong person – it was Godfrey not me who needed to go to hospital – but it was too much effort. I closed my eyes and a coat was laid over me, covering most of my face to protect it from the downpour. I was being carried now, back uphill, and even though my body was shivering uncontrollably, I felt warmer, safer already, and I turned into the man’s chest. The smell of him was so vivid, so particular, that its effect was like smelling salts. I inhaled again and felt a sob forming in my throat. The paramedic wore the same cologne as the man I’d fallen in love with. The smell reminded me of happy times, chasing starlings through the vines, seeing my baby for the first time on the scanner, snuggling together on his sofa …

  My eyes sprang open and I gasped.

  ‘Jensen?’ I blinked. This must be a dream, a delicious dream. ‘I thought you were on a flight to …?’ Where was it again? My brain felt all fuzzy.