Rose's Vintage (38 page)

Rose finished drying her hands. She was dead on her feet, but didn't hesitate. ‘Of course. Just show me what to do.'

They headed out to Mark's car and ran into Astrid and the kids, who were just coming back from Eumeralla.

‘Hey, Leo,' called Mark. ‘Wanna come pick some grapes with us?' The boy had been begging his dad for weeks to be allowed to help out in the vineyard, but Mark had thought he'd end up bored and only get in the way of the pickers, so had refused his pleas. Now, however, he needed all the help he could muster.

Leo's eyes lit up, ‘You bet, Dad. This is awesome!'

‘Well, I'm not sure awesome is the word I'd use about picking grapes during a thunderstorm, but I like your attitude, son,' Mark said, playfully cuffing him about the head.

The four of them jumped into the car, and Mark gunned the engine and sped off down the road.

Dan was on his mobile, speaking to Charlie at Wind-song. ‘Hey, mate, got any spare hands over there? This storm's threatening to break and we've still got the west vineyard to pick. Yeah? Great! We'll meet you there.'

Mark looked questioningly at Dan. ‘What's the go?'

‘Windsong got all their grapes in yesterday, so Charlie and Thommo and their crew are going to meet us over there. Reckon between us we can get the job done.'

‘Hmm,' said Mark, looking anxiously at the sky. ‘It's going to be touch and go.'

Within minutes they were at the first row of the west vineyard. When Rose got out of the car she noticed the temperature felt like it had dropped at least ten degrees. She shivered in the unexpectedly cool air. Tight bunches of fat purple grapes, their skins dusted with white bloom, hung below the leafy vines. Mark squashed a few between his fingers, examining the seeds.

‘Well, they're brown, so that's good.' He crunched down on a grape, grinding the seeds between his teeth. ‘Would have liked to have given them another day or so, but beggars can't be choosers. Let's get cracking.'

Jake, alerted by Dan, had driven the tractor down to meet them and began unloading the bins as each of them took a row and got to work. Louder cracks of thunder rumbled ominously overhead and the dark clouds made the afternoon light dim and eerie. Rose looked up as a flash of lightning illuminated the entire valley.

‘Golly, this is gonna be some storm,' she murmured to herself, snipping bunches into her bin as fast as she could.

Thommo and Charlie arrived, and just as they got started another two cars pulled up. Rose spotted Deano and Mick from Lilybells.

‘Heard you needed a hand,' said Deano, flashing a pair of shears at them.

‘Mate, you're not wrong,' replied Mark, briefly looking up from his task.

They worked without stopping, till Rose's hands were blistered from the unfamiliar scissors and she thought her back would break from being bent over. The storm threatened, but apart from a few fat drops, the clouds didn't release their rain. She straightened up, her bin full again, wiping away dust from her face with the back of her arm.

‘How's it going?' Mark came up beside her to collect the bin. ‘You look all in.'

‘Nah, don't worry about me. I'm okay. How's Leo doing?'

They looked back along the vines to where they'd started. ‘Still soldiering on. Reckon he's got a future in this if he's not careful.' Despite his concern about the weather Mark looked exultant.

‘You love this, don't you?' asked Rose.

‘Yep. Nothing like a bit of uncertainty to spice things up,' he said, grinning at her. ‘Nothing's ever all plain sailing; that'd be boring. Glad we've got some help though. Otherwise we'd really be in the shit.'

Rose burst out laughing. Nothing like a bit of Aussie bluntness.

Dan called out from the next row, ‘I don't know about you fellas, but I'll be glad of a cold one when this is all over.'

‘I'll shout you all a beer or three if we get everything in before the storm breaks,' replied Mark. ‘Now back to it, before we all cop a soaking.'

The final bins were being loaded just as the heavens opened. Rain fell in sheets. Rose still couldn't get over the way it rained in the Shingle Valley – as if God tipped an enormous bucket over the land. Jake headed back to the winery in the loaded-up tractor, seemingly unfazed by the wet, as everyone else took shelter in their cars.

‘Well done, Leo. You were a champ,' said Mark.

‘Thanks, Dad,' he replied, glowing with pride.

Rose sat up front with Mark and he placed a calloused hand over hers. ‘You too, Rose.'

She winced as he squeezed her hand.

‘We'd better get some salve on that when we get back,' Mark said, turning it over and seeing the raw, blistered skin where the shears had bitten into her soft palms.

‘It is a tiny bit painful,' Rose replied through gritted teeth.

They returned to Kalkari, and they all dashed from the car to the winery, getting soaked to the skin on the way in. Dan went in search of the first aid kit to patch up Rose's hands, and Mark pulled a can of lemonade from the back of the bar fridge that lived in the corner of the winery office.

‘Here you go, mate. Good effort today,' he said, cracking it open and handing it to Leo.

The boy slurped thirstily. Rose swallowed, suddenly noticing how parched she was.

‘And this is for you,' Mark said, offering her a beer and taking one himself. ‘Get that down you and then I reckon you should both go and get dry. Dan and I will see to the unloading.'

Oh, Dad, can I stay and watch?' pleaded Leo. ‘I won't get in the way, I promise.'

‘All right then, but keep close to me and don't touch anything,' Mark warned.

Rose ignored the sting on her palm as she grasped the icy bottle. It had been exhilarating – exhausting but exhilarating – to have brought the fruit in and beaten the elements. Cold beer had never tasted so good.

CHAPTER 39

T
he restaurant, Marilyn's (it was a Monroe-themed establishment, but happily the food was better than the décor), was lit by hundreds of candles that lent a magical glow to the faces of all those who'd been a part of the Kalkari vintage team.

‘Wow, everyone's here, aren't they!' said Rose.

‘Plus a few hangers-on,' muttered Dan, nodding in the direction of the blonde bob of Amanda Davis of Bellbirds, who was up from the city for the weekend and had somehow wangled an invitation.

Rose smoothed the front of her dress and fiddled with her hair, which hung down her back in a glossy wave. She felt suddenly self-conscious.

Looking up, she found Mark staring at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. He leaned towards her. ‘You look beautiful, Rose,' he said, speaking softly in her ear so that only she could hear.

Rose felt a thrill of pleasure at his words, and was reassured, but then noticed that Amanda was hovering behind them.

Amanda tapped Mark on the shoulder. ‘Mark, darling, it's been too long. I heard the news about the Jimmy Watson. Congratulations, you must be positively ecstatic!' she trilled.

Mark turned towards her. ‘Yep, it sure was a good day when we found out. The phone hasn't stopped ringing since and we've got orders for almost the entire stock. Couldn't have come at a better time.'

He turned back towards Rose, but Amanda wasn't letting him go that easily. ‘So, tell me what you think of this vintage? Will we see another trophy-winning wine?' she winked at him conspiratorially.

Jake, who had been standing nearby and overheard their conversation, pulled Rose away. ‘Come with me, Rosie. That trophy hunter gives me the irrits. But don't worry about her – she doesn't stand a chance. Anyone can see the boss has only got eyes for you. Anyway, let's go join the fun kids,' he said indicating the far side of the room, where Astrid, Thommo, Angie and Mick were sitting. They were already getting stuck into the reds by the look of things. The table was littered with decanters and bottles in various states of emptiness.

Rose looked back at Mark, but he was nose to nose with Amanda, seemingly deep in conversation. She let Jake lead her over to the table.

As she was about to sit down, she looked up to see a frail-looking Violet entering the restaurant, followed by her sister, Vera. Rose ran over to help them with the door, and embraced each of them in turn. ‘Oh, I'm so glad you could make it. Look at you two! You're both looking so much better.' She beamed at them.

‘Thanks, Rose, love. We wouldn't miss this for the world. Now, I understand there's a young man we need to meet. The one who's been looking after our vineyards. Can you point him out?' asked Violet.

‘Oh, you mean Jake. Of course. He's just over there,' Rose gestured to the table where she'd been sitting. She waved to him to come over. ‘Jake, this is Violet and this is Vera,' she said, indicating each of the sisters in turn. ‘The famous Trevelyn sisters.'

‘Ladies,' Jake said gravely, taking their hands and giving each of them a kiss on the cheek.

Oh, he's a charmer when he wants to be
, thought Rose.

‘It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I hope I've managed to treat your vineyards as you would have wished.'

‘We'll see about that when we've had the chance to get back over there,' said Vera huffily.

‘Now come on Vera,' Violet scolded her sister. ‘Mark's done us a favour by taking them on and you know that. Besides, he assured me that he wouldn't do anything to them that we wouldn't do ourselves.'

‘That's absolutely right,' Jake

Rose left them to catch up on the vintage, Jake enthusiastically quizzing them about the details of their biodynamic methods. On her way back to the table, she looked around the room. There was so much heightened emotion in the air: joy and relief at having made it through the frantic grape harvest, and anticipation about the wines that would be made from the juice now sitting in the barrels back at Kalkari. Mark – who had evidently shaken off Amanda – was sharing a joke with Dan; Astrid and Thommo were gazing lovingly at each other; and Vera and Violet were still chatting away to Jake. Rose felt her heart contract. In a few short months, these people had become her friends: her surrogate family. She couldn't begin to imagine having to leave them.

She really needed to come clean with her brother, tell Henry that she couldn't be his spy. Then she'd beg him to find another winery to buy. She resolved to email him in the morning and let him know that she couldn't go through with their arrangement. If that meant risking his anger, well, so be it. Rose knew now that she couldn't bear to betray Mark and her new friends, and she also couldn't stand the thought of Henry marching in and taking over Mark's business. She hoped that the success of the Jimmy Watson and the Channings order, which looked well on its way to being filled now the bumper harvest was in, would mean that Mark was in a much stronger position to fend off anyone interested in getting the winery for a bargain basement price.

She made her way back to the table and for the rest of the evening she set aside her concerns: she was with friends, and it was time to celebrate the successful vintage.

The next day, Rose was in Eumeralla, loading shopping bags into the trunk of her car, when she jumped at the honk of a horn beside her. She looked up, annoyed at whoever it was – and did a double-take. Was she seeing things?

‘Hey, Rosie.'

What the bloody hell?
She must be imagining it.

She was still trying to figure out if she was hallucinating when he called out again. ‘It's been a long time between drinks.'

Oh my God
, she thought,
it's really him
.

‘Wh— what on Earth—?' She could barely speak for surprise.

‘Well, I thought you might be a bit more pleased to see me than this,' Henry said, getting out of the car. ‘Wow.' He blinked. ‘You look amazing, Rosie,' he said, taking in her newly svelte figure. ‘Incredible. Australia clearly agrees with you. I almost don't recognise this goddess in front of me.'