The Vineyard

by Karen Aldous

  ‘There’s our man,’ cheered Charles.

  ‘Indeed.’ Cal forced the grin. ‘And his good lady.’ Annatia appeared beside Jez, waving just as they pulled up on the shingle. Cal opened his door beside them and the couple welcomed him.

  ‘Hey, Jez, looks like we need to get started on the pruning tout-de-suite.’ He shook his old school friend’s hand and then greeted Annatia with a kisses to both cheeks.

  ‘Ha, brilliant idea mate be my guest. Annatia has very kindly made us some lunch but feel free if you can’t wait.’

  ‘Maybe I need some energy first,’ Cal conceded.

  Charles walked round the car and shook his friend’s hand too, then gave Annatia a gentle hug and kissed her on both cheeks just as Cal had done. They all followed her into the villa. Cal at once noted the change in the décor. Rather than Mediterranean lemon, the walls were now brilliant white and the floors retiled. The traditional red terracotta tiling had been replaced with high-end Italian marble, streaked with taupe and shades of grey. Creamy-white sofas gleamed in the light. The windows were draped effortlessly in cream linen curtains hung from black wrought-iron rails whilst white voile blew gently in the breeze.

  ‘Expertly planned but simply applied,’ Cal said. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘Thank you, yes. We are rather proud it has worked out,’ Annatia replied.

  Charles followed without much observation, unlike Cal and Jez; he paid no attention to such domesticity.

  ‘Hmm.’ Charles twisted his head round to take in the scene. Jez broke in. ‘I’m sure I told you Annatia has an interior design business. She only came out in March and by the end of April had gathered a team to do the work. They were here for about ten days?’

  Annatia nodded. ‘Yes, not too long.’

  ‘Good job,’ said Charles, wiping his neck. This small talk was out of his comfort zone.

  ‘Ok. Drinks?’ Jez led them all out to the terrace. ‘I’ll open a bottle of my finest shall I?’ The mid-day sun was diffused by a fully extended cream canopy over the terrace. Marble flooring and dark grey iron furniture matched the interior with wrought-iron balustrades furnishing the balcony. Beyond that, vines stretched as far as the eye could see with even a glimpse of the Med in the distance. Cal could only dream of owning such splendour.

  ‘Stunning, absolutely stunning.’

  ‘Yes beautiful isn’t it. As the sun goes down it becomes even more so,’ Jez said, proudly.

  ‘When I came a few weeks back, the visibility was poor and it didn’t stop raining so you couldn’t see far at all. I’m just overwhelmed. The house too, it was…’

  ‘Awful.’ Annatia cut in.

  ‘Err…traditional I’d say,’ Cal said diplomatically. Jez squeezed Annatia’s hand as they both laughed.

  ‘It’s coming together, gradually,’ admitted Jez, passing Charles a glass of wine.

  Charles made a polite nod and nonchalantly slumped his body into the nearest chair. ‘What about turnover Jez? Is it paying for itself yet?’ he asked.

  ‘Are you serious Charlie-boy?’ Cal jeered. ‘No rent and over half the vines at least good to go – Jez is doing something drastically wrong not to be in profit already.’

  Charles leaned forward in his chair as the others joined him with full glasses in the cushioned outdoor loungers. Annatia retreated to the kitchen.

  ‘Exciting Jez.’ Cal couldn’t work out whether he was really happy for his friend or just plain green with envy. Jez was living his dream!

  ‘Gramps didn’t do much with it as a growing business. This was his hobby, his retirement toy. He didn’t want to do too much so we’re financing a new website and upping the stakes for awards and appellation – generally putting ourselves on the map.

  ‘Well this won’t do your reputation any harm,’ Cal said, holding up his wine glass. ‘This is excellent.’

  ‘Cheers mate. A little “beaut “don’t you think?’

  ‘You won’t hear me complain.’

  Charles sipped his too just to find out what all the fuss was about. ‘Umm, yes, fine young filly. I think. Aren’t French wines passé now?’

  ‘French wines have had to up their game these last few years with all the competition, especially from countries like Italy and the new world wines. It’s tough!’ said Jez.

  ‘I think our English wines will be giving you a run for your money too.’ Cal winked across at Jez.

  ‘How is Domain de Caroline?’ Jez asked as Annatia filled a table under the canopy with brightly coloured food.

  ‘She too is coming along nicely. Just given her a spray actually.’ Cal sucked in his cheeks at Jez’s reference to his own vineyard. His pride and joy and, woe anyone who mocked it!

  ‘Have you started building your winery yet?’

  ‘We finished the foundations and the panels are just going up. I’ve got the electricians coming in next week to do the first fix.’

  ‘Great stuff. So what square footage is it gonna give you?’

  ‘It will be about three thousand square feet. Not huge but enough for an office, two loos, cave, tank room, press, bottling and public areas. Caroline has been great helping with the planning. Although that is not going down well with the daughter.’

  ‘Oh! Not heard about this one at all.’ Jez raised his wide brows as he spoke.

  ‘To be honest, I don’t know much but I think she is the benefactor of the estate but she and Caroline don’t see eye to eye. It could potentially be a problem.’

  ‘Why?’ Jez enquired.

  ‘Told you,’ piped Charles. ‘Bloody women. Put a spoke in your works!’

  ‘You could be right Charlie-boy, you could be right. I don’t know the story exactly but she came home for the first time in years and they had a big row. Caroline isn’t saying too much but I get the feeling it’s about the land. The daughter, it turns out, lives here in France, in Cannes, so I thought I would try and find her as I was close.

  ‘Well that’s about as useful as a stone in a shovel of shingle!’ Charles at least was following the conversation.

  ‘I figured there probably aren’t that many beauty salons in Cannes but oh…how wrong was I? Anyway as luck would have it, I bumped into her yesterday in Aix.’

  ‘Excellent, so?’ Jez asked.

  ‘Humm…Ok, I’m keen to get them talking. I have to. I’ve invested a lot of money and time so it’s in my interest as well as Caroline’s. Although, Caroline worried me a bit when she said, “My daughter needs to do some growing up.” They’ve obviously come to blows and I’m not sure if either are that bothered to be honest.’

  ‘Leave it be then Cal. Caroline wouldn’t appreciate you meddling,’ Charles said with his lawyer hat on.

  ‘Help yourself to food, guys.’ Annatia called, peeling off the last of the coverings.

  Cal resisted saying any more. He was acutely aware of two things, his vulnerability if anything were to happen to Caroline; what would happen to him and the vines? Would the contract still stand? Lizzie was never part of the equation. Also since setting his eyes on Lizzie his head had not been in the right place and his heart, well, it had been reeled in to the point that it needed to get nourished or starve. He needed to find out whether she felt the same. After her fluster yesterday and her effort this morning, he suspected she may. But even though she’s not in a relationship with the father of her child, she may have a partner, be married even. He was becoming quite keen to find out more about her, this beautiful, graceful but intriguing Lizzie Lambert. How he was going to do this, he didn’t yet know.

  Chapter 5

  ‘Anton. Please don’t call the salon! I’ll give you a number,’ Lizzie told him as she met him at his hotel reception. It was a vast hall of polished brown marble running from the front to the back of the huge Victorian building. A long contrasting light marble reception desk faced them with several staff busily greeting hotel guests clutching cases wheeled behind or stashed by marble columns. She’d only agreed to meet him in the reception area, pu
blic enough hopefully to keep Anton’s behaviour in check but Lizzie refused to sit down as she watched him pace.

  ‘Well you should have rung me. You have my number. I ring the salon and you are not there anyway.’ Anton marched back and forth by a long glass-topped coffee table.

  ‘That’s because I am at home with my little boy.’ Here’s my home number,’ she sat and pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper from her handbag and scribbled down her number. ‘Thierry’s nanny can get hold of me at any time. If I’m not there, leave a message with Marie-Claire and I will call you back. Anyway, what…?’

  ‘You know what it’s about. I want to meet my son. You bring Thierry to me. I want to get to know him.’ Anton’s dark brows knitted as he pleaded. ‘You had no right to hide him from me. You should have let me know. Why didn’t you?’

  ‘Anton, seriously? You would not have been interested, you weren’t… in the right place, I’m not sure if you are now. And, to be honest, since you’ve known for about eight or nine weeks, you’ve only come to see me once! Why is it suddenly more important?’

  ‘He is my son and I want to be part of his life. And,’ his face twitched, ‘I don’t want him brought up by another man. I want custody?’

  ‘What? You weren’t going to bother with your son until you thought I was with somebody else?!’ Lizzie’s frowned, ‘which I’m not anyway.’

  Anton stood silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. ‘No, I wanted him anyway. I would have wanted him years ago.’

  ‘I can’t believe that. Our relationship was over and I was going away. You would have made me terminate the pregnancy.’

  ‘I am his father. I have a right to decide in the matter.’ His glare swiped her face.

  ‘Ok, tell me what you would have said three years ago if I had come and told you?’

  ‘We could have been married.’

  ‘Are you mad? Anton we couldn’t last six weeks so we would never survive six decades. And anyway, surely you can guess why I chose not to tell you? She paused, waiting for his answer. ‘I’m talking about your drug habit. Anton.’

  ‘I…I didn’t...wasn’t…’ Anton stammered but Lizzie cut in.

  ‘Don’t lie to me. You clearly were and you had serious paranoia. You were controlling. If you didn’t deny it was your child, you would have forced me to get rid of it. There is no way you would have wanted a child. So it surprises me that you are suddenly so interested in being a father, even now.’

  He stopped pacing and faced her, creasing his forehead. Her knees were close to buckling as his anger pulsated from his eyes. Passers-by began to stare.

  ‘You don’t know what I would have said but I liked you very much Lizzie and I could have made it work but I did not get to choose,’ he hurled in her face, his hands on his hips.

  ‘You? Wasn’t that the problem Anton? Shouldn’t that have been we?’ Stepping back she glanced past him and out at the bright sky, unable to stop her body trembling and eyes welling up. She really couldn’t deal with this. Shifting her head slightly to avoid his eye, she settled her eyes beyond the hotel, and on the world outside. Avoiding him, she kept her focus on the carefree visitors delighting themselves as they promenaded on the Mediterranean shore, relishing the view, the warm sunshine and its persistent light reflecting on the sea. It was after all, she realised pensively, a major reason why she fell in love with Cannes. Now she was in another place; faced with an uncompromising Anton, the once loveable charmer, still in his expensive designer attire and ultra-polished grooming, giving her his bullshit. He hadn’t changed.

  He had no right to control her life. Now nor then. How could she answer? Why should she even listen? She tilted her head to be met with his now softer, velvety brown eyes; the eyes that once intrigued and seduced her. He appeared to now be calm. She cleared her throat and swallowed, taking control.

  ‘If you’re serious about having contact with Thierry, we need to get a custody agreement drawn up I presume. I’ll look into it. There will be a proper procedure, I’m sure, and I need to be able to trust you. We have built a life together, Thierry and I, and the transition will need to be handled correctly. You can’t have all the control and be possessive like you were when we were together.’

  ‘But that is only because I really liked you,’ Anton declared. ‘I cared and you should have told me about my baby.’

  He never cared. She recalled the time she chatted to his friend Pascal, on the quayside, a group of them were at a party. She laughed at Pascal’s joke and Pascal touched her arm as he made another quip. An innocent brush with his hand, but Anton, just a few feet away, must have seen it and completely overreacted, nearly pushing her into the Med. Accusing her of flirting. Luckily Pascal caught her. Anton marched off. That wasn’t caring. That was paranoid. He’d also humiliated her, mocking her for living in a caravan and when they’d argued once he’d slapped her round the head. On a few occasions he’d even made her go home and change because he disliked her outfits. He’d been a complete control freak. She didn’t stay around to hope he’d get better.

  ‘That’s not how you treat someone you like. We weren’t even together that long and you were taking over my life. I couldn’t deal with it. It was like living in a cage.’

  ‘But it’s ok for my son to be exposed to your lovers?’

  ‘I don’t have time for lovers, Anton.’

  ‘You are lying to me now. I saw you remember?’

  ‘You saw my mother’s lov… partner.’ She hadn’t got to grips with the term.

  ‘Holding your hand?’

  ‘As a friend, Anton,’ her voice quivered slightly, ‘I’d been upset. Not that it’s any of your business. You can’t argue this point Anton, you date women.’

  ‘Well I wouldn’t be out all the time. No, I’m determined,’ he said. ‘I shall be a good father.’

  Lizzie’s confidence collapsed. Exhausted by him, she shook her head in despair. ‘I have to go. I need to have a serious think about what’s involved in this Anton and find out what we need to do.’

  ‘I will get my son. That I promise.’

  ‘Au revoir, Anton.’ She walked briskly but as gracefully as she could to the entrance of just one of his family’s opulent collection of hotels and out into the brilliant sunshine. She headed for the promenade in the hope the walk may give her some escape.

  Usually, she loved the unrivalled light Cannes showered on her but her mood was too dark to absorb any. Anton had certainly seen to that. It was hard to comprehend now that it was him, as well as the brilliance of the sky, which drew her to this magical place. She’d been bewitched by his elegance, his charm, his come-to-bed eyes and, of course, his wealth. She was so naïve then. It was a million eons away from her life in England or the utilitarian style of the French campsites she worked on before this town seduced her. Poolside cafes were nothing compared with the glitzy, stylish bistro bars and fine restaurants she frequented with Anton and his friends. Her world transformed from the moment she stepped onto his private yacht. It was an opportunity to help someone out and fill a gap before a season in Verbier. That’s all, just an eight-week job.

  How fast and dramatically her plans had changed. From day one, she had felt like she belonged in Cannes even though, Sophie, her greatest friend, wasn’t with her. And, when faced with her predicament it was natural to settle here. It was easy not to mix in his circles. And, even if Anton ever saw her with a child, he would never guess. What a fool she was. It was unfortunate that his sister had spotted the likeness at the salon that day, a couple of months ago, but today, he’d freaked her out; talked about marriage. What Why? Where did that come from? And, why does he want Thierry so urgently now?

  Chapter 6

  Marching into the still-bustling Marche Gambetta, Lizzie headed for the salon. Her long walk along the promenade hadn’t cleared her head. She was still furious with Anton. Forget it. She told herself. He’s the biggest twat to walk this planet. As well as Thierry, her business was her passion. She d
idn’t need a man. Her life was moving along quite nicely and she had worked hard since taking over Beaute Dedans, the beauty salon. Opening the heavy glass door she was greeted by Lucie, the receptionist, and her manager Josephine.

  ‘Well speak of the devil,’ Josephine said, catching Lizzie by surprise.

  ‘Oh. Surely you have something more interesting to talk about?’ Lizzie responded, scooping thick chestnut hair back from her forehead.

  ‘I was just telling Lucie how you began just a few years ago, right here at this post when Madame Renauld owned the business.’

  It was an opportunity Lizzie grabbed when expecting her child. With a natural interest in beauty and products and lots of knowledge from her mother’s experience in the beauty industry, she impressed Madame Renault almost immediately. Within just a few months of working full time at the salon, her former boss told her that her attitude and the increase in product sales was just what the business needed and that she had the vision for its future. And that she really wanted to retire. The business was available if they could agree a sum.

  ‘Yes, it’s been hard work but it fitted in with my plans perfectly,’ she confessed.

  ‘You have done amazingly. When my mother used to come here, it was quite old fashioned,’ Lucie commented. ‘You must be proud!’

  Lizzie had never stopped to consider what she had achieved, being so preoccupied with the how. All she knew was she had been hungry to provide for her child and so with determination she set about what was necessary. Eventually, after some further negotiation on price and dragging her feet to bide time, she found the resources. With her own savings and a loan from Sophie, she and Madame Renauld concluded a deal. Lizzie had made regular business plans to increase profits so she could expand. She introduced more treatments, created more space, even if it meant knocking out cupboards. With her, Josephine created a good, reliable team and with it blossomed a reputation of the place to go. They had now become pretty well established.