Rose's Vintage (23 page)

‘Hey there, Rose. How's it going, love?' Dan was in the office, sitting at the computer. ‘How's everything at the house?'

‘The kids are doing okay, I think. Luisa's being a bit tricky and Leo was pretty upset at his mum leaving again, but I think things will settle down soon.'

‘And how are you?' Dan's gaze penetrated a bit too deeply for Rose's liking. She felt like he could see right through to the turmoil inside her. Either that or he was starting to be suspicious. He certainly didn't miss much.

‘Oh, you know, keeping busy. I miss Ferment though, despite all the hard work.'

‘Yeah, well, he did spit the dummy on that one, hey? But just between you and me and the wine,' Dan angled his head to where the dozens of oak barriques lay on their sides in serried rows, ‘I've been working on the boss. We'll see if we can't change his mind. Watch this space.'

Rose's eyes lit up. ‘Oh, do you think he might? We could even find out where to hire an inflatable castle for the kids. Keep them happy while their parents taste.'

‘Fair dinkum. We're not Disneyland here, you know,' said Dan with a chuckle. ‘I'm not so sure Mark'll go for it; that might be a bridge too far.'

‘Oh, I know, but it'd be a bit of fun, don't you think?' Rose teased.

‘Well, it's not up to me now, is it?' he said, ‘But give me some time and I'll see what I can do.'

‘Oh. I almost forgot. Did you get a phone call earlier? Someone with an English accent rang the house, wanting to speak to Mark.'

‘Yeah, that was Olivia, from Channings.'

‘Alicia, you mean?' Rose remembered the tweedy woman from the lunch she'd cooked a few months previously. That was where she'd heard the voice before.

‘That's right. Alicia.'

‘Oooh, exciting! What did she want?'

‘Not sure, really. I told her she'd get Mark on his mobile. He's been out in the vineyard all day.'

‘Oh, well, I was just making sure she'd rung back. Thanks, Dan. I'd better go and keep an eye on dinner.'

‘No worries, Rose, and I'll work on the boss about reopening the cellar door, especially now the weather's warming up. The valley gets heaps of visitors in spring and summer, up from the big smoke for some fresh air, good food and plenty of wine. You should see how some of them knock it back. Hens' parties are the worst.' He shook his head ruefully.

It was dark by the time Mark came in. Rose heard him shucking off his boots outside the back door and looked up as he entered the kitchen, acutely aware of his solid frame filling the room. He looked tired again, she thought, noticing the deepening network of fine lines around his eyes. She couldn't help it: her heart went out to him; he had so much on his shoulders and no-one to share it with.

He had a couple of bottles of red tucked under his arm. Rose could just see a glimpse of mildewed labels. Cobwebs hung off the necks. She wondered if they were more from his family's old vineyard. Mark carefully uncorked one of the bottles and she watched as it glugged into a decanter he'd retrieved from the sideboard.

It was Astrid's evening off – she'd gone to the cinema in New Bridgeton with Angie from Lilybells – so it was just the two of them for dinner. Mark had finished up earlier than usual, and asked if they could eat with the kids. Leo and Luisa hung off their dad, Luisa pretending to whisper in his ear and Leo showing him his homework.

‘Look, Dad, it's a drawing of a boa constrictor,' Leo said proudly.

Mark ruffled the boy's hair. ‘Quite the artist, aren't you, mate?'

‘Dinner's going to be a little while longer, guys. You can go and watch TV until it's ready, if you like.' Rose wanted to seize the opportunity to have a chat with Mark. They'd not been alone together since they returned from Sydney, and the drive back had been a tense one, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

The kids scampered off, leaving them alone.

‘Here, Rose, try this,' Mark said as he handed over a glass of the deep purple wine he'd decanted.

She sniffed in a sweet, heady perfume and then took a sip. Liquid like velvet and the taste of ripe blackberries flooded her palate, lingering there. It was like nothing she'd ever tasted. ‘Holy shit. I could bathe in that!' Rose was mesmerised by the flavours and sensation of the wine as it hit her palate. ‘What is it?'

‘Chateau Margaux 1982,' Mark said. ‘One of the best vintages in recent times.'

Rose had heard of the wine – it was one of Henry's favourites – but she'd never tasted it before. She was surprised they were drinking it on an ordinary Friday night at home. ‘Bloody hell, Mark, I'm not sure that bangers and mash will do this justice. What are we celebrating?'

‘I had a call from the UK earlier on. So, actually, “bangers” as you call them, will be the perfect thing tonight.'

Rose wasn't sure if Mark was making fun of her or not. She often didn't know how to read him: his moods were so changeable. ‘Oh yes, they rang here first. Dan said it was Alicia from Channings and that she was going to try you on your mobile. What did she want?'

‘Only 30,000 cases of tempranillo.' Mark shook his head in wonder. ‘That kind of order should really turn things around. If we can get hold of enough fruit from the valley in this vintage, that is. Plantings are a bit thin on the ground, and it'll all depend on yields. That and being able to twist the arms of some of the valley's best growers, Trevelyn's among them. Most of the grape contracts are locked in years in advance, but we might have a bit of leeway.'

‘Well, that's great, right?'

‘Well, it is if we can fill the order.'

‘Oh, that's wonderful news, Mark, really it is. It'll work out. You'll see.'

‘Yes, it's a good news day. And we're celebrating. That's why I pulled the Margaux out. God knows it's been a while since there was something worth making a song and dance about around here. This was a wedding present.' He laughed bitterly.

‘Oh.' Rose didn't know what to say.

‘Look, Rose, I'm sorry again for what happened in Sydney. I got carried away. I was completely out of line. You work here, and I shouldn't be taking unfair advantage.' Mark looked uncomfortable. ‘Things are a bit of a mess for me right now, and it's not fair to complicate your life with my problems. Someone as fresh and lovely as you deserves someone far less battered and jaded than me. In any case, I'm far too old for you.'

Fresh and lovely, he called me fresh and lovely
… the words sang in her head.

She took a gulp of wine for courage. ‘You're wrong,' she insisted. ‘You're not in the slightest bit battered or jaded, and you're not exactly headed for the knackers' yard yet. But okay, yes, I get it. Really, I do.' She was proud of herself for being so rational, for holding it together and not giving anything away, but the reality was if he'd swept her up in his arms again she wouldn't have protested at all. Oh God, it was all so frustrating.

‘Rose, I know you've not been here long, but I've come to think of you as part of the family: you and Astrid. I honestly don't think I could cope without either of you at the moment. I hope you know how much I appreciate you both. It's been a really ordinary few months and I don't know what I'd do without you.'

Rose felt her heart break for him as she looked into his troubled green eyes. She took a deep breath.
Strike while the iron is hot.
She also needed to change the subject. If he kept on talking about her like that she might be tempted to throw all caution to the wind and pull him towards her, ignoring the fact that he was her employer, ignoring the children in the room next door …

‘Mark … do you think you might reconsider opening the cellar door? Just at the weekends? It won't be any extra bother for you. I'll do all the baking, and Astrid said she'd help me serve, and Dan's offered to run the tastings. I think we can bring in quite a bit of cash too …'

‘Dan's been on at me about this as well. Are you two ganging up on me?' he asked, but his words held no censure this time. ‘Look, as it gets warmer, we'll certainly get more visitors. As long as it's not too much extra work for you. I don't want you to feel taken advantage of. In any way.'

Rose couldn't suppress a grin. She wouldn't mind being taken advantage of in another way. ‘I loved doing it last time. I really do want to do this, Mark. I've got the time. It won't interfere with the rest of my work.'

‘Alright, well, there's no reason why you can't start again in a couple of weeks' time – will that give you enough notice? And how about we split the cafe takings? That way I won't feel so guilty about you working so hard.'

‘Super! Oh thank you, Mark!' Rose had just the excuse she needed to lean over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

‘Daaad!' A voice called from the hallway, interrupting them. ‘Luisa's hurting meeee!'

Mark glanced towards the door, ‘I'd better go and sort them out before they strangle each other.'

Rose sighed and went over to check on the dinner.

They'd cleared the air and she'd got what she wanted, so why did she still feel dissatisfied?

CHAPTER 23

I
t was the smell that first alerted her. Rose was out on her early morning run and had just reached the rise in the hill that overlooked the valley. She paused, hands on her hips, taking in the view as the sun came up over the horizon, colouring the sky rosy pink and purple. The morning air was cool. She sniffed the wind – and that was when she caught an unmistakable aroma, bitter and acrid. She looked around but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. It was, however, strangely quiet this morning, she thought. No birdsong, no roosters crowing at the dawn.

Acting on impulse, she decided to head down the hill towards Trevelyns, a sixth sense guiding her footsteps there. As she approached, she saw wisps of smoke curling out from under the cottage's back door.

Oh God!
Her breath caught in her throat.
Vera and Vi are in there!

She raced over to the window, peering in to the dark, smoke-filled kitchen. She could hear a crackling and cracking sound coming from within. ‘Violet!' she screamed. ‘Vera!'

Fearful for the old ladies' safety, she cast around, looking for something – anything – to help her. She'd seen too many inferno movies to want to risk trying to open the door, and in any case the handle was metal and would probably sear the skin on her palm right off. If only she had her phone with her – she could have called for help. She spied a garden hose lying to one side of the cottage, and rushed over to see if it was attached to something useful like a water supply.

Oh, thank Christ for that.

She wrenched the rusty tap on to full volume – as far as it would go – and dragged the hose around to the back, aiming the gushing water at the gap under the door.

She was vaguely aware of the sound of sirens in the distance, but the roar of the fire coming from inside the cottage still dominated. Gasping, she called out again, ‘Vera! Violet! Are you there?' She had no idea if they were still in the cottage, and was terrified the smoke, which was billowing from an open window, might have overcome them. Rose felt the smoke stinging her eyes and making her cough, but she carried on aiming the hose at the house.

After what seemed an eternity, the fire engine sirens grew louder and she turned her head to see a truck coming up the drive, lights flashing. Screeching to a halt at the front door, the brigade climbed down and swiftly got to work.

Strong fingers prised her hands off the hose and gently led her to a safe distance from the cottage. Rose suddenly felt her legs give way from under her and she collapsed on her knees in the veggie patch, her fingernails digging into the dirt, coughing violently, her lungs scoured by the smoke.

Two of the firemen went in through the front door. They returned swiftly, carrying Violet and Vera, respectively, cradled in their arm. The old ladies must have still been in their beds, as they were in their nightdresses.