Rose's Vintage (35 page)

‘Now?' she spluttered, not particularly pleased that he'd released her just as things were getting interesting.

‘You'll see,' he urged.

As they reached the bottom of the Kalkari drive, he veered left. He then took a sudden right, ducking into a copse of trees. Rose was glad he had hold of her hand or she would surely have stumbled on the rough ground. Emerging onto the other side of the trees, she saw the water. She knew the Shingle River, which wound a silvery path along the valley, ran close to Kalkari, but she hadn't realised there was a swimming hole so close by. Here, the banks had widened to form a deep pool, its smooth expanse ruffled only by a pair of ducks. It was several degrees cooler in the shade of the peppermint gums that grew along the banks. Mark shucked off his t-shirt and unbuckled his jeans, and finally Rose understood what he had in mind.

‘Race ya!' he called, taking off towards the water.

She laughed nervously at the thought of diving in. She was so hot and sticky from her long drive but she had no idea what was in there. ‘You're kidding, right?'

Mark's eyes held a challenge.

Oh my god, he's serious!
She'd give anything to cool off, but she didn't like the look of the river's inky depths at all.

Completely unselfconscious despite now being naked, Mark had stepped onto the low bank and was preparing to jump in. ‘C'mon, Rose, live a little!'

With a resounding splash he jumped feet first into the water. Watching him surface and shake the water out of his hair, Rose could see an echo of the exuberant boy he must have once been and her heart softened.

Yep, I've got it bad.

‘I never even knew this was here,' she said.

‘Yeah, well, I haven't even shown the kids yet. I want to wait till they're better swimmers, Luisa especially,' he called out.

‘That makes sense.'

Mark looked at her. ‘So are you coming in or do I have to drag you? I thought you were hot?'

His enthusiasm was infectious.

Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em

She pulled her sundress over her head. She did, however, keep her underwear firmly on. She wasn't as uninhibited as Mark obviously was. She waded in.

‘Jesus, it's colder even than Bondi!' she said, gasping for breath, noticing the fine silt they had stirred up. She couldn't see her legs.

‘You'd better believe it,' Mark said as he stroked over towards her, arms reaching to grasp her around the waist. He noticed the silver necklace glittering at her neck and held it between his fingers. ‘Like it?'

Rose nodded. ‘Love it,' she said, kissing him. ‘Thank you, Mark, it's beautiful.' Then, with an impish grin, she wriggled out of his arms and stroked towards the far bank.

‘Hey, where are you going?'

‘Catch me if you can!' she sang.

‘Oh, you're going to regret that,' he joked, swimming towards her.

Rose tried to stay out of his grasp, but he reached her in a few lazy strokes and dived down, not caring about the murky water, grasping her ankle. Rose felt herself being tugged downwards and she spluttered as her head dunked under the water.

‘Hey!' she cried out as he released his grip on her leg and she bobbed to the surface.

Mark laughed and flipped water at her. ‘Gotcha!'

The water was icy, and despite the heat of the day Rose's skin soon chilled, goosebumps rising on her arms. She shivered.

‘Oh, you're getting cold.' Mark said, and they headed back to the bank. He scrambled out first and grabbed his shorts, then chivalrously extended an arm to help her up.

They gathered their clothes and Mark handed her his t-shirt to put on while he pulled on his shorts. ‘C'mon, let's go back and dry off.' She had to stop herself staring at his broad, muscled chest and felt almost dizzy at the nearness of him. She longed to kiss him again.

When they reached the house, Mark suggested she wait outside on the verandah. ‘Stand in the sun there and warm up. I'll be back in a flash.'

When he returned, she could see two towels under one arm, champagne flutes dangling from his fingers and an ice bucket and a bottle in the other hand. He set the bucket and glasses down on a side table and handed her a towel. Turning her back, Rose stripped off the now sodden t-shirt and bra and wound the towel around herself, squeezing her hair out and shaking it down her back. Setting the glasses down, Mark turned to twist the cage on the champagne. Deftly popping the cork, he poured two glasses, handing one to her.

‘Happy New Year, darling Rose.' He raised his glass to her.

The champagne was icy and bubbles pricked her nose as it slipped easily down. ‘Mmm,' she sighed appreciatively. ‘Laurent Perrier Rosé. How did you know it's my favourite?'

‘Would you believe a lucky guess? Oh, that and it was already in the fridge.'

‘Well, I'm impressed,' Rose acknowledged. ‘It's good to be back, Mark.' She wasn't ready to admit to him just how much she'd missed him.

‘Yep, it was a bit quiet around here without you,' he replied, teasing her.

They sat and Mark reached for her feet, resting them on his knee and gently drying each one in turn, rubbing off the dust that had stuck to her soles.

‘But weren't you up at the coast all this week?'

‘I came back early.'

‘Oh right. Was it that bad?'

He nodded.

They fell silent, and Rose imagined Mark was – like her – thinking about how they'd spent the previous week.

The sun coloured the sky rose and scarlet as it set. Gazing out over the vineyards, Rose felt a sense of calm overtake her. All she could think of was being right here, right now. Nothing else seemed to matter. Sod the future. It could sort itself out.

The back of the house was out of sight of the driveway, so they were startled when they heard the stutter of an engine and then the slamming of car doors.

‘Daaad!' Leo's voice called out. ‘Where are you?'

‘Oh, Christ,' said Mark in alarm. ‘That'll be Isabella back with the kids. I wasn't expecting her until tomorrow.'

Rose had no time to collect her thoughts or do anything about the fact that she was dressed in nothing more than a towel, her hair in wet tendrils snaking over her shoulder.

‘Halloo,' came Isabella's voice, as she rounded the side of the house. ‘Oh, there you are, Mark.'

Isabella was the epitome of polished European resort glamour. Gold and black oversized sunglasses, blood-red lipstick, a matching tote, and a chic summer dress that looked straight out of
Roman Holiday
. Rose caught a whiff of her heavy, familiar perfume as she tried to shrink back in her chair – to become invisible. It was futile.

Great, glamorous estranged wife arrives, and here I am looking like something the cat dragged in. Again. Nice one, Rose.

Isabella's eyes flicked disdainfully over Rose's bare shoulders and legs. She arched one eyebrow at Mark, who had stood up, still wearing nothing but his shorts.

‘Cooling off?' Her tone was icy. ‘I do hope I haven't interrupted anything.'

Leo and Luisa came tearing through the house and out the back door, flinging themselves at Mark. ‘Hey, guys, how are you? Look at you both! I swear you've grown in just a week.' He leant down and hugged them.

Rose clutched the towel tightly around herself. ‘We had a swim. Such a hot day, you know,' she stammered to Isabella, feeling completely out of her depth. She flashed a look at Mark that said ‘Help, get me out of here'. He gave her a grin that she supposed was meant to be reassuring but actually just made him look like a naughty schoolboy caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

Fat lot of help, you are, matey.

‘So I see,' replied Isabella coolly, watching as Luisa toddled up to Rose and gave her a sticky hug. ‘It looks as though it's not just the children who like Rose.' Sarcasm dripped from her voice. Rose wilted under her steely gaze.

‘I'd better go and get changed. Excuse me,' said Rose, extricating herself from Luisa's grasp.

‘That would be a good idea, I think, Rose.' Isabella's voice was mocking and made Rose feel even more ill-at-ease.
Oh God
, she thought as she hurried over to the barn to get dressed,
now Isabella really knows the score
.

Isabella stayed on at Kalkari.

Rose had to remind herself to be stoic. She was sorely tempted to get the hell out of there as fast as the wheels on her little yellow car could carry her but, in a whispered conversation, Mark persuaded her not to leave.

‘Please, Rose, it's just for a couple of days; I need some time to sort out all the details with her,' he pleaded. ‘I meant everything I said to you. Please believe me. Just give me a few more days.'

As well as being incredibly beautiful, Isabella was also incredibly untidy. She insisted on carrying on loud telephone conversations in Spanish, leaving behind a trail of crimson lipstick–stained glasses and scrawled notes, and she expected Rose to cater to her every whim. She kept up her complaints about the meals Rose cooked, ‘Per'aps, Rose, we could have something with a little less oil in it next time,' she said, after Rose had served up fettuccine carbonara one evening.

She also expected Rose to drop off her dry cleaning, run her errands and generally act as her maid. ‘She asked me if I could find her some organic rosehip oil for Christ's sake,' Rose vented to Mrs B when she bumped into her in Eumeralla the next day. ‘Do you think they stock that in the IGA?'

‘Oh, love, you poor thing, I remember exactly what she's like,' Mrs B sympathised.

Rose gritted her teeth and acknowledged Isabella's requests with a thin veneer of good grace. She knew the woman was asserting her control, showing her who was boss, and, well, it had been – still was, really – her home. Rose was just an employee, something Isabella wasn't about to let her forget.

She drove Astrid mad too, but the Austrian girl took advantage of Isabella's presence and escaped with Thommo, who arrived promptly at six every night to pick her up and delivered her back at seven the following morning. Rose was surprised that Isabella insisted on getting the kids ready for bed – leaving a trail of wet towels and discarded clothes in her wake, she noted irritably – and so Rose was left to retreat to the barn, where she didn't even have the company of Jake to rankle her. When he wasn't out tramping the vineyards he was hanging out with the crowd from Lily-bells – he'd set his sights on Angie, and was doing his best to seduce her.

By the time the end of the week arrived, Rose was thoroughly pissed off. Even her usual morning run didn't improve her state of mind. She was fed up of waiting for the situation to change and was beginning to wonder if she wasn't being played for a fool by both Mark and Isabella.

Arriving in the kitchen to cook breakfast, she noticed several monogrammed Louis Vuitton cases were parked in the hall. Her spirits rose. It looked like, true to Mark's word, Isabella really was leaving. Wanting to keep well out of the way, she watched from the window as Isabella departed in a flurry of kisses for the children. Her heavy perfume hung in the air long after she'd left.