The Quilt (40 page)

“This is our latest reserve. 
We will be releasing it at the restaurant’s opening.”

Joanne let the air flow out of her lu
ngs.  She had not been aware that she had been holding it.   She extended her hand to accept the delicate glass.

“That is delicious
.”

He smiled and sipped at the clear liquid in his own glass. 

“Please take a bottle home on the house.”

So we are now
discussing the vineyards product.  She walked to the long redwood table and ran a hand over the surface pausing to read the inscription on the brass plague. 

“
Twin Pines?”

Paul was standing at the far end of the expanse of polished timber.  He was watching her but his expression was unreadable.

“That is a long story.”

He
smiled but there was no warmth in his serious eyes.  His mouth had set in a stubborn line.

“You aren’t going to explain
?”

“
No.”

Again he scrutinized her before continuing. 

“The tasting room, restaurant and outdoor area are a work in progress.  We hope to have everything running within the next few weeks.  There have been issues with Health and Safety but I believe that is normal when applying for licenses for any public premises.”

“Can I help?”

He smiled patiently.

“No
, thank you.”

Without commenting further he
walked out of the long dim room and turned down a small attractive cobbled walkway.  Joanne followed meekly. The view opened up before them like a picture window.  Joanne felt herself gasp.  To her right there were lines of vines dripping with bunches of purple grapes at the end of each grew a rose bush covered in blood red blooms.  The sea was a still hazy mirror with silver and blue hues bleeding out into a shimmering, living mass.  A manicured carpet of green flowed to the edge of a cliff.  Clearly visible was the beginning of a path which she assumed led from the vineyard to a private bay below.

“Who is lucky enough to live there?”

She pointed to the large sprawling house that was cleverly positioned for privacy. 

“I do
.”

Before she could question him further Paul had turned away and retraced his steps towards the restaurant.  Joanne stood for a moment longer soaking in the vista below. 
She concentrated on her breathing, steady, professional, imagine you are in court.  Why did this complex, private man have the ability to reduce her emotionally to the level of a hormonally fuelled teenager swinging through the full spectrum of human emotion?

Paul stood silently waiting in the shadow of the walkway.  He was relaxed
, sipping his glass of wine and regarding her with a slightly amused expression. 

Joanne glared frostily at him as he stood aside and indicated for her to enter the restaurant through a thick wooden side door.
  Jean and Mari pointedly ignored the couple and continued to clean the already gleaming stainless surfaces.

“It’s got so much character!
That fireplace is big enough to walk in!”

She ran her hand over the closest rustic wooden table and fingered the brass plague
. Joanne’s anger had evaporated and she studied the dark intimate interior of the room.

“Twin Pines.
That is the same inscription as on the tasting room table.  Who made the tables and chairs?”

“My father.  Again it is
a long story.”

Paul glanced
angrily at Mari and Jean who were straining to listen.  When he turned towards Joanne his eyes had become guarded and wary.   

“What are you putting on that
wall?”

Joanne pointed to the large blank expa
nse of wall that resembled a desert in the otherwise completed room.  

“It
deserves a special feature.”

“You are right
, it does need something.  Paul hasn’t found anything yet, have you Paul?”

Mari and Jean had walked unnoticed away from the cooking area.  They stood shrewdly watching the couple.

“What about the Lucky Lady?”

Joanne’
s words spilled out impulsively and they were followed by a raw flush of embarrassment in her face and the unwelcome prickling of tears behind her eyes.

Uncharacteristically
, both Mari and Jean fell into an awkward silence.  Paul regarded her with questioning eyes.  She looked down under his scrutiny and spoke in not much more than a whisper.

“The hull is large
to look in proportion on the wall and is in need of restoration or at the very least dry storage.  I have nowhere to display something of that size and you need a rustic feature for that space.”

She
looked up and smiled sweetly into the deep serious blueness but it continued to look back without expression.

“
It certainly would be in keeping with the restaurant theme Paul.”

Jean continued enthusiastically.

“I think the poor woman that painted the mural would have appreciated it being on display, and it sounds as though this arrangement would be beneficial to you both.” 

Paul
seemed to consider the offer glancing from Joanne to the blank wall but when he eventually spoke his words were slow and cautious.

“I think your of
fer is very generous.  But I would only accept the hull under these conditions.”

Joanne narrowed her eyes. 
Controlling bastard. 

“I know it is of
sentimental value.  Therefore I could only take it as a loan item to the restaurant.  Whenever you are in a position to take the mural back I will arrange to have it shipped to you.”

“And
?”

He held up his
hand and Joanne reluctantly fell silent. 

“I will also arrange and pay to have the mural restored
.”

His expression was
uncompromising.  Joanne glanced at the two women who stood to one side and appeared to be fascinated by the tense negotiation.

“I think that would help us both and this would be a fitting place to display Sandy’s work
.”

“Temporarily
.”

Paul added his eyes never leaving hers.

“I would also like you to come back after the restoration has been completed and the hull has been placed on the wall.  That way you can confirm you are happy with the restoration, placement and our arrangement.”

“Are those
all of your terms?” Joanne snapped.

Jean shuffled uncomfortably and spoke to defuse the tension.

“Joanne, would you like to join us for dinner tonight?”

Joanne unsuccessfully fought to control a giggle as the impromptu invitation broke through the innocent discussion that inexplicably had become both challenging and heated.

Paul’s mouth twisted at the corner and a slight hint of amusement twinkled in his eyes.

“I think
that answers your question about a normal conversation.”

Joanne ignored him and turned to Jean.

“Thank you for the invitation but I have to take someone to the airport early tomorrow and really should catch the afternoon ferry back to the city.”

Paul looked at his watch.  He then took a pen from his pocket and retrieved a notebook from the kitchen. 

“Can you please write down your number so that I can let you know when the work has been completed on the mural?”

His expression was mulish and a
faint hint of a smile played on his mouth.  You intentionally asked for my number in front of your mother!  Joanne scowled and scribbled down her contact details. 

Chapter 36

“Edge of the Cliff”

The insistent knock on the door and Critters high pitched yapping broke through Joanne’s sleep.  She dragged herself up from the depths of an unsettling dream and extracted herself from the tangled sweaty knot that had become her bedding.  When will the nightmares stop?  The illuminated face of the bedside clock glowed a sobering four thirty am.  

Simon stood forlornly at the front door.  His hair was dishevelled and his eyes had shallowed
, indicating imminent panic.

“My alarm clock is set
, Simon.  What the hell are you doing here even earlier than arranged?”

He had the grace to look apologetic.  But that
faded quickly and he began to unravel.

“What was I thinking?  I
never should have considered leaving the responsibility of the café.”

He wrung his hands nervous
ly and his posture collapsed into a pathetic slump.

“Come in before you wake the neighbours.  Do you trust me Simon?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Well
, you have just answered your own question.  Please shut up and take this.”

Joanne handed him a small bottle of rescue remedy.

“I would prefer a scotch.”

He looked up hopefully but Joanne ignored his plea.

“Would you like a coffee?”

“No
, thank you.  You look like crap, were you sleeping?”

Instantly distracted from his own problems Simon began to search Joanne’s face.

“You have seen Paul this weekend!”

Joanne flinched.

“I knew it!  Tell me all!”

“There is nothing to tell.  It was not prearranged
.”

Simon looked expectant and the panic had left his eyes.  Joanne decided to continue.  Any distraction was preferable to having the flamboyant Simon
self-destruct in front of her before the sun had even kissed the day.

“I
decided to salvage the hull and he was swimming with his dog.  Nothing much more to tell.”

Simon made an elaborate hand gesture as if pulling information physically out of her mouth.  Joanne rolled her eyes.

“Deep down, I don’t think we even like each other.  We certainly are not compatible. Even the most mundane conversation seems to escalate to hostility and I suspect he is quite controlling.”

“Oh
!”

Simon seemed delighted and was not only smiling broadly but clutching his hands together an
d shrugging his shoulders with glee.

“Like t
wo defensive lovers!”

“What the hell have you been reading in your spare time?”

Simon continued to smirk.

“You are way out of line Simon!
  Drop it or walk to the airport!”

“Glen Forrester.”

It was mid-morning but already the artist’s voice was slurred by alcohol.  Damn
, make a note to ring him earlier in the morning.

“It’s Paul Clarke speaking from Marinella Vineyard.  I have an unusual restoration project and you have been recommended
.”

“By unusual you mean?”

It took a minute for Paul to decipher his words.

“It is a mural on the side of a wooden boat.  There is some weather damage and a couple of planks that need replacing
.”

“Do you know what paint has been used to create the mural?”

Glen’s words had become clearer. Paul assumed he was making an effort to sound professional now that there was a prospect of business.

“I am sorry
, I have no idea.  Perhaps you could call up here and have a look when it is convenient.  The hull is at the Vineyard.”

The artist seemed to consider this for a moment.  There was a muffled sound and Paul suspected his hand was over the telephone. 

“Are you still there, Mr Clarke?  I assume the hull cannot be transported?”

“Not easily
.”

“I’ll be up there in ten minutes
.”

Glen For
rester hung up before Paul had time to question the artist’s ability to drive.

Paul resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose.  The unkempt, filthy frame of Forrester stood in the doorway.  He swayed slightly and was fighting hard to focus on his surroundings.  His eyes travelled hopefully to the neatly stacked bottles that surrounded him.

“I’ve been celebrating
,” he explained and offered Paul a grimy hand.  Paul ignored him and gestured for the man to follow.  Forrester immediately fell silent.  He walked slowly around the hull and picked at the small flakes of paint that peeled like scales from the timber.  His glazed eyes had taken on a strange clarity and his grubby hand rubbed the stubble covered chin as he contemplated the painting in front of him.  Eventually, he looked up at Paul.

“The artist is not familiar.  Who is it?
  I could sell any number of his works if he could supply them.”

“That would be difficult.  She has recently passed away
.”

Glen looked up sharply.

“You know what they say about the recognition of the deceased.  Would you consider selling it?  I would get you a very good price.”

“No definitely not.  It isn’t mine to sell.  Are you capable of restoring it?”

“Capable?” 

He regarded Paul with distaste.

“Yes, I am capable.”

Forrester seemed to sink back thoughtfully.  His hand continued to massage the stubble on his chin with a slow
, unpleasant, circular motion.  Paul looked away in disgust.

“I will have to work
from here.” 

Forrester
looked pointedly at the bottles visible in the room opposite.  Great, I look forward to your company. Paul suppressed a shudder.

“
I wouldn’t try to make it look new.  Go for the weathered look.  The artist was very accomplished so the detail can be viewed easily.  What exactly are you planning to do with such a large object?”

Paul tore his eyes away from the almost sexual rotation of the
man’s fingers.

“It will be a focal point in our restaurant.  It will have to be secured on the wall
.”

A clucking noise came from the man’s throat.

“You will have to make sure there are sufficient beams to secure it.  The weight will be substantial and it could cause very unpleasant injuries if it was to fall.  Are you sure you could not get the owner to consider selling? I would be happy to find you something alternative for your restaurant.”

“It is not for sale
.” 

Irritation broke through Paul’s voice.

“When could you start?”

Glen looked up shrewdly.

“Are you not going to ask for a quote?”

“
The restoration will be displayed in a high profile position in a small community.  I am sure there will be questions about the restoration of the hull and we both know how information has a tendency to travel.”

“A business man
!”

Forrester smile
d and displayed an uneven set of nicotine stained teeth.

“I will be back at around six tonight
.”

Joanne opened the computer and scanned her emails.   There were no responses from solicitors to her recent resume mail out but there was an email from Simon.  She frowned at the subject line; it read “
In Love”
.

Darling
, I arrived safely and have already explored the beaches and patronised the local bars.  The news is; I have met someone!  I know it has only been a day but sometimes things are not measured in time.  Jason lives on the Shore and isn’t it just crazy that I have to come half way across the world to find him!

Joanne smiled imagining Simon’s
enthusiasm as he typed.

I know you
don’t want me to mention Paul.  But seriously, Joanne, nobody reacts as you do unless there is a strong emotion driving them.  I also know you have very little trust left in heterosexual males.  You may do well to remember the pain of past relationships may not be yours exclusively.  Love you, Simon xxxx

Joanne pushed delete
and stalked into the kitchen.  She plugged in the jug and tipped some biscuits into Critter’s bowl.  Damn Simon!  The little dog walked over and sniffed his meal; he glared and then walked miserably back to the lounge and curled up in a dejected pile.

“Not you to! It’s this place
.”

The
villa oozed sickness.  Its walls appeared to have absorbed the misery of Sandy’s cancer over the past months.    Joanne walked to the table and sat down heavily.  She began to draft a letter terminating the tenancy agreement. 

The acrid smell of smoke assaulted Paul when he entered the side door of the restaurant.  Glen Forrester sat hunched at a table, a smouldering cigarette hung limply from his mouth. Mari was eyeing him resentfully from the other side of the counter.  She looked over to Paul and frowned.

“I found him in the shed covered in paint and smoking over a tin of thinners!  Lucky the old fool didn’t blow himself up
!”

“He is restoring the mural
.”

“So he told me!”

Mari’s mouth had pinched into a disagreeable line.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

“Yes please,” volunteered Forrester, his body jolting upright at the prospect of a meal.

“Have you been here all night?”

For a moment Forrester looked at Paul as though the question was unnecessary.

“You wanted the mural restored didn’t you?” 

He slid a crumpled piece of paper over the table.

“I would suggest you contact this man.  He will be able to manufacture the fittings necessary to safely attach the hull to your wall
.”

“How long until it will be finished
?”

Forrester relit his cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“If you keep supplying me good wine, you will have it on the wall by the weekend.”

Joanne answered the phone on the second ring.  Her voice was formal and efficient but warmed when she heard Paul speak.

“Paul.  How is the mural going?”

“It will be in the restaurant by Saturday.  Are you free to come over?”

“I’ll have to make sure someone can stand in for me
.”

There was a moment of silence and Paul wondered if she was reconsidering.

“I am sure I can organize things.  Would you mind if I brought Critter.  He has been a little withdrawn since the accident.”

“Cri
tter?  Of course, I don’t mind.  If you check the ferry schedule and let me know what time you will be arriving, I will pick you up from the terminal.”

They lapsed in
to an awkward silence. 

“I am surprized you have accepted
.”

“I thought that was part of our agreement
.”

Joanne imagined the smile forming on Paul’s face.

“Would you allow me to show you around the island?”

“Do you think we co
uld manage an island tour without an argument?”

A cynical laugh travelled down the line.

“I am not sure I can make any guarantees.”

Joanne smi
led shyly and was glad he was not able to see her.

“I will get a ticket on the earliest ferry I can
.”

I need to distance myself from
this man.  Well, this is sure one hell of a way to do it!

The dull drone of the ferries engine and muted sound of a small group of passengers broke an otherwise perfect and peaceful morning.  The water looked like an oily smooth mass and seabirds soared then dived like arrows into the harbour. 

As the boat slid in
to the bay Joanne studied her face in the bathroom mirror.   Her smoky grey eye shadow matched her crisp cotton shirt and her white shorts contrasted with long tanned legs.  She applied a splash of muted lipstick and ran a comb through the blonde waves of her hair that had fallen victim to the early morning sea breeze.

Critter sat patiently near her sandal covered feet.  He
rested his head on a small backpack and regarded her with interest.   Joanne looked again at the reflection in the mirror.  Her eyes travelled from the carefully applied lipstick to the complimentary grey eye shadow.  What the hell was she doing? 

The ferry bum
ped up against the jetty and Joanne put her hand on the basin to steady herself.  Paul would be waiting for them by now.  Perhaps she could remain on board and return to the mainland unnoticed. She glanced at the text he had sent confirming where they would meet and then nervously joined the small cue of disembarking passengers.