Odile moved from her side of the tub to Christina’s and planted a kiss right on her lips.
Christina didn’t protest. Indeed, eventually it was she who led Odile by the hand out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom. They headed straight for the enormous bed. Christina pulled back the champagne-colored satin counterpane while Odile threw the surplus pillows onto the floor.
Odile lay back first and pulled Christina down on top of her. The tension that had been growing between them all evening exploded in their kisses. Christina grabbed at Odile’s body hungrily. She threw her head back and gasped as Odile bit her shoulder in a moment of uncontrolled passion.
They tumbled over and over, exploring each other’s bodies as though there might not be another chance. Christina sucked at Odile’s tiny pink nipples. Odile returned the favor, making Christina sigh with delight. Odile was the first to venture lower. She cupped Christina’s warm pubis in her hand.
At that moment, they locked eyes. Odile searched Christina’s green eyes for permission and found it there in the crinkles of a smile. Permission granted, Odile parted Christina’s labia with her fingers. Christina was already wet. She arched upward as Odile stroked the smooth pink skin of her vulva.
“Lay back.” Odile pushed Christina down onto the mattress again.
With well-practiced fingers, Odile found Christina’s clitoris. She moistened the clit with Christina’s own wetness and set to work massaging the tiny nub into life. She could tell how well she was doing from the sound of Christina’s breathing and from the way Christina held the top of Odile’s arm. The faster and firmer Odile worked, the harder Christina’s fingers gripped her.
“Stop, stop!” Christina moaned but Odile could tell that it wasn’t an order. Instead, she pressed her mouth against Christina’s swollen red lips and silenced her with kisses.
Christina’s eyes flickered as she fell into a sort of pre-orgasmic trance. All her inhibitions had finally deserted her, forced out by the stronger sensations that were taking over every fiber of her body. She felt entirely physical. Animal. This was what her body was for. Pure enjoyment.
Blood filled her clitoris, amplifying the shock waves that started there and reverberated throughout her being. The ecstasy was intensified still further when Odile sucked on her nipples, flicking them from side to side with a tongue that promised much more joy later on. Meanwhile, Odile dipped her finger inside Christina’s vagina again and lubricated her clitoris for the final stretch.
This time Christina begged Odile not to stop. She closed her eyes tightly and gripped Odile’s arm so hard that she would leave red marks. Her orgasm built inside her. It started like a small electric charge. Pins and needles. This was the point at which all might not be lost. While Odile was busy with her clitoris, Christina twisted her own left nipple between her fingertips, trying to regain the sensation of Odile sucking there. Odile took the hint. She sucked and stroked and sucked until Christina started gasping as though she could no longer breathe. Now there was no going back.
Christina’s cries rose in volume until she was almost shouting.
“Oh God!” she cried as her orgasm cascaded through her body. “Odile! Oh God!” She clamped her hand around Odile’s wrist to stop her from carrying on. It was all too much. Christina collapsed back onto the pillows. When she looked up at the chandelier above them, she was amused to see that it was jangling.
Odile stayed the night. The following morning they drank coffee together on the terrace where it had all started. It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear and blue. Odile pointed out more landmarks for Christina.
“My house is just over there.”
Her mobile phone beeped. Odile had a text. She sent one back, smiling as she texted.
“I should go,” she said. “Just one more kiss.”
Christina leaned into Odile’s embrace. They kissed passionately. Odile slipped her hand inside Christina’s cashmere sweater and pushed it up to reveal her breasts. She placed another kiss on Christina’s nipple before she let her go.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said. “Au revoir, ma chérie.”
CHAPTER 52
Hilarian arrived in Slough for the last quarterly meeting of the Froggy Bottom trustees that year with a spring in his step. Not even the fact that he had to be in Slough could dent his mood. He carried with him a bottle of Froggy Bottom’s new release for each of his fellow board members and looked forward to telling them that Kelly herself had designed the wonderful label. That should shut old Reginald up for a little while.
But Hilarian sensed that something was afoot the moment Reginald’s secretary swung open the door to the wood-paneled boardroom where the trustees always sat. Reginald was smiling. That wasn’t usual or especially comforting, though perhaps it could be explained by a sudden attack of Christmas spirit. However, Georgina’s tight little mouth was also twisted into an approximation of a happy face. Definitely bad news.
“Good afternoon, Hilarian,” said Reginald, ostentatiously looking at his watch. Hilarian was five minutes late.
“Traffic,” said Hilarian.
“That’s why I always set off fifteen minutes sooner than I think I ought to,” said Georgina. “Prior planning … ”
“Christmas presents from Kelly,” said Hilarian, ignoring Georgina’s dig as he arranged the bottles of Froggy Bottom’s first sparkling wine—a blend of pinot noir with just a little chardonnay—on the polished wood table. Reginald immediately picked up the nearest bottle and set it back down again on top of a pile of papers, so as not to mark the French polish. “Ideal for pre-Christmas lunch aperitifs. Kelly’s very own vintage,” Hilarian continued.
“Her vintage,” echoed Georgina with a little snort. “We’re afraid not.”
Hilarian listened with growing horror as Reginald launched into his speech. After four years of looking for a way to part Kelly from Froggy Bottom, it seemed that the Mollisons had at last found their legal loophole. They’d employed a new lawyer who went through the wording of Dougal’s will like a forensic scientist, taking each and every letter and full stop and turning them inside out and upside down in his search for the tiniest crack that would let him insert a scalpel to cut Kelly off.
Now Reginald explained the position. Certain phrases jumped out. “Exact words of the will.” Reginald shook his head. “His child,” “Quite specific in that regard,” “Kelly named as his child in an entirely separate document.” “Good reason to believe that Kelly Elson is not the illegitimate daughter of Dougal at all … ”
“Reginald, you know I’m no fan of legalese. What exactly does this mean?” Hilarian asked.
“It means that, as trustees, Georgina and I will be voting to suspend maintenance payments to Kelly until the matter of her parentage has been properly investigated.”
“What?” said Hilarian. “You can’t.”
“I’m afraid we can. It is absolutely within our discretion. We’d advise you to follow suit.”
“And then … ”
“If it is revealed that Kelly has been benefiting from the proceeds of Dougal’s estate under erroneous circumstances, then ownership of Froggy Bottom will be transferred to Dougal’s legitimate heirs at once.”
“We need to appoint a lawyer to investigate this on Kelly’s behalf,” said Hilarian.
“I don’t believe we need to do anything on Kelly Elson’s behalf until we know exactly who she is,” said Georgina.
“She’s Dougal’s daughter,” Hilarian said simply. But even as he said it, the first fingers of doubt began to inveigle themselves into his mind.
“That’s what he was told. But whose word do we have except that of Kelly’s mother? A woman, who, according to reports from the housekeeper at the time, was not entirely to be trusted. A DNA test should prove it,” Georgina concluded.
“We don’t have Dougal’s DNA,” Hilarian pointed out.
“Ah, but we don’t need it,” said Reginald.
Hilarian was confused.
> “Because we have the DNA of his legitimate children,” Reginald continued. “If a test shows that Kelly isn’t related to them, we have the answer.”
“You’re not serious.”
“We are deadly serious. As should you be,” said Reginald. “Dougal entrusted us with ensuring that his estate was properly managed.”
“As it is. Under Kelly. And she needs ten thousand pounds for new rootstock and maintenance. The root-stock is urgent. If we’re going to expand the vineyard this year, it needs to go into the ground in the next few weeks. I want her to have the money now.”
“We disagree. I think that concludes our business for today,” said Reginald. “Thank you for coming along, Hilarian.”
“What? You think that’s it?”
Reginald nodded. Georgina was carefully packing her papers back into her briefcase. Along with the bottle of wine.
“You’re so bloody pleased with yourself, aren’t you? You bloody smug little shit. And you.” Hilarian pointed at Georgina. “You’re going to withhold Kelly’s money.”
“We don’t know that it’s her money—” Reginald began.
“You’re going to withhold Kelly’s money,” Hilarian persisted. “And still go home and drink the wine that she worked so hard to produce?”
Georgina took the bottle out of her briefcase and put it back on the table, as if to make a point.
“You’re a pair of bastards. What does it matter to you whether Kelly gets ten thousand pounds this month? It’s not like it comes out of your pockets. Dougal’s other kids don’t need the cash. And they don’t need the vineyard. They don’t even want it. They never went anywhere near there while Dougal was alive! That vineyard was Dougal’s pride and joy and neither of them gave a fig about it. They didn’t even bother to go to the funeral.”
“That has nothing to do with it. It’s not up to us to decide whether or not Dougal’s heirs deserve their inheritance, Hilarian—though I have to say that his son, Damien, is very interested indeed in making wine. He’d be delighted to take Froggy Bottom on.”
“Now that it’s properly up and running, I’m sure he would. Now that Guy and Kelly have done all the hard work and it’s a viable prospect rather than an enormous money pit. I can’t help thinking he’s been waiting for exactly this moment.”
“At the end of the day it’s a simple matter of the law,” said Reginald. “The trust refers to a vintage made by Dougal’s child. If Kelly Elson is not Dougal’s child then the vineyard cannot be transferred to her. She isn’t mentioned by name.”
“I’m going to hire the best lawyer in the land to make sure Kelly keeps Froggy Bottom.”
“That’s up to you,” said Reginald. “The trust will not be able to release any money in that regard, of course. It’ll have to come out of your own pocket.”
“Then it shall.”
“Hilarian,” Georgina sighed. “I really don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about the little trollop. If you ask me, she’s pulled the wool over your eyes for much too long. Do you seriously think she cares about that vineyard? The second she gets her hands on the deed to Froggy Bottom, she’ll sell it and use all the money to buy drugs. I know her type. I see them in front of me at the Magistrates’ Court every day of the week. Shoplifters, drunk drivers, glue sniffers. They come back again and again. They can’t help themselves. You can’t change the essential nature of someone from that kind of stock.”
“You met her only the one time,” Hilarian spat. “And so you wouldn’t know how much she’s changed already. Besides which, she’s from the exact same stock as those other bloody idiots you seem to revere so highly.”
“Hilarian,” said Reginald sharply. “Miss Nuttall and I do not need to listen to that kind of language.”
“Then listen to this.” Hilarian pulled himself up to his full height. “Kelly is Dougal’s daughter and had he had the chance to properly meet her before he died, I’m sure he would have left her every penny he had. She’s a good girl. She’s bright, she’s hardworking, she’s kind. She has proven herself to be dedicated to the future of Dougal’s vineyard. Whatever you and his loser offspring try to do to her by trawling through Dougal’s will, looking to rob her of Froggy Bottom with your sneaky semantics, she has already inherited Dougal’s passion and talent for wine. I know that Dougal would have been delighted to call Kelly Elson his heir. If she were my daughter, I would feel very proud indeed.”
Georgina and Reginald shared a look. Reginald gave Hilarian a slow hand-clap.
“A very pretty speech,” he said. “Come on, Georgina. I want to show you that new print in my office.”
They exited, leaving Hilarian alone in the woodpaneled room.
Hilarian drove straight from Slough to Sussex. He got there just before seven. Kelly and Guy were in the kitchen of the main farmhouse, poring over a diagram of the new vineyard they were planning on a field they had recently leased from the farmer next door.
“Did you get our money?” Kelly asked excitedly. “Look.” She showed Hilarian the diagram. “I’ve finished the diagram. It’s going to be amazing.”
Hilarian shook his head. “I’m afraid we have a little problem with the other trustees.”
He told them the full story. Guy slumped forward onto his folded arms in despair. Kelly tried not to show she was bothered.
“But it’ll be OK, won’t it?” she said when Hilarian had finished. “Because I am Dougal’s daughter. You said I was like him.”
Hilarian nodded sadly.
“You are like him. I’m sure it will be OK,” he said.
“Then we won’t let it worry us. I’ll have the test done as soon as possible and we’ll buy the new rootstock after Christmas. Hilarian, cheer up!” she demanded. “When the test comes back positive, we’ll invite Reginald and Georgina up here and properly show them our plans. We’ll win them over. Especially if we come back from the Vinifera show in San Francisco with a medal.”
Guy frowned. “I don’t know if we can afford the tickets,” he said. “If we’re not getting any money this month … ”
“You don’t need to buy tickets,” said Hilarian. “Vinifera will cough up. Gerry Paine wants his own Judgment of Paris. You’re not going to miss that show, Guy. No matter what happens, the wine in this bottle”—he waved the bottle that Georgina had given back—“is your wine. You’ve both worked so hard for this. No one can take that away.”
“Too right,” said Kelly.
But Kelly’s bravado didn’t last. Alone in her bedroom, she sat in front of the mirror and looked at the face reflected there. She picked up the framed photograph of Dougal that stood on her dressing table and peered closely at the man she could barely remember. Did she have his nose? His eyes? His mouth? She couldn’t tell. All Kelly could see was her mother’s chin. Her mother’s hair. Her mother’s frown. And all she could think about was her mother’s unreliability. The dozens of men who had drifted through Marina’s life. Even Kelly herself had defamed her mother as a slut who would sleep with anyone for a packet of fags.
Kelly climbed into bed and pulled the covers right up to her neck.
“Please let me be Dougal’s daughter,” she prayed. The alternative was just too awful. To lose Froggy Bottom would be to lose everything. She didn’t have anywhere to go back to. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in years. If Dougal wasn’t her father then she didn’t know who was. She had no grandparents. No siblings. No cousins. Her best friend was dead, murdered by someone who had yet to be caught. Froggy Bottom was all she had.
CHAPTER 53
The day after Christina’s encounter with Odile, Greg returned to Paris from Frankfurt.
“Did you miss me?” he asked her.
Christina confirmed she had with a nod.
“Did you have an OK time without me?”
“OK,” she said.
“What did you and Odile talk about?”
“Girl stuff,” Christina said breezily. “Tell me about Frankfurt, I’d much rather
hear about that.”
As far as Christina was concerned, her moment with Odile was just a slip in reality. It wouldn’t happen again. There was certainly no need for Greg to know about it. Especially if Odile did not take Ronald’s place on the show. On the flight back to Los Angeles, Christina encouraged Greg to look for a young American replacement for the venerable old critic.
“Another guy,” said Christina. “I think the balance works better.”
“Sure. If you really think so,” said Greg.
“I do.”
And so Christina slipped back into happily-not-quite-married-life with Greg as though Paris had never happened. There was plenty to occupy them both with the upcoming holidays. Greg’s parents were flying up to Napa for Christmas. The Villa Bacchante itself was a hive of activity as the staff tried to fulfill last-minute orders for Christmas fizz.
Christina was at the beauty salon, having her fingernails painted a poinsettia red, when her lawyer called.
“Todd.” She smiled into the phone. “I got your gift basket this morning. Thank you so much. It’s beautiful. I was about to call and wish you a happy Christmas.”
“That’s very kind,” said Todd.
“So, what are your plans for the holidays? Are you going—?”
“Christina,” Todd interrupted her. “Are you at home? I need to fax something through to you. I’m afraid it’s bad news.”
Christina covered her mouth with her hand as she read the letter from Bill’s lawyer. After the divorce settlement was finalized, she had thought she would never see that dreaded letterhead again.
Having read only halfway through the unexpected and deeply unwelcome missive, Christina called Todd to discuss it.
“He can’t be serious. I mean, he really can’t do what he’s proposing, right?”
She heard Todd draw breath on the other end of the line.
“I have to be honest with you; I have never dealt with anything like this before. I don’t know of anyone who has, but I think there’s a strong possibility that some judge somewhere might consider that your ex-husband has a point.”
Vintage Page 33
