Karen Aldous - The Vineyard

‘I’m pleased you make the effort to socialize with Lizzie when you obviously have more pressing matters to attend to,’ said Anton.

‘I think you should mind your own business,’ Lizzie retorted.

‘Isn’t your business now my business? Is my son well?’

‘Yes, he is and always has been.’

‘Oh, I think he will be better cared for once he has the chance to know his father,’ Anton said, reaching for his wallet and taking out his card. ‘Ring me later. We need to talk,’ he said, placing the card in front of her.

Lizzie was livid but bit her tongue and waited as he returned to the bar. ‘I’m sorry. He’s my son’s father and has…well, ignore him.’ Lizzie told Cal. This was such an unwelcome intrusion. How did she manage to find these men? She certainly had a knack of falling for the ‘bad’ boys. Anton was obviously still feeling raw from his discovery but why and how did he find her today? How often was she out in a bar with a man? Not even a man who is available. Cal might as well be married and to think Anton would quickly add one and one and come up with four. Was he now going to be back governing her life like he tried before?

‘Oh, but I think it’s obvious he still likes you,’ observed Cal.

‘No. He only likes himself.’ She lowered her voice, ‘He’s a control freak. I don’t know, insecure, jealous, he’ll never grow up. He certainly hasn’t got what it takes to be a parent.’ Lizzie omitted Anton’s history of drugs. Cal didn’t need to know and certainly neither did her mother.

‘He didn’t strike me as the fatherly type.’

‘God no, still a child himself.’

‘So,’ Cal asserted. ‘Getting back to you and the situation with your mother. I think…’ he paused, sat forward and moderated his tone. His closeness began to take a hold on her. She swore he could hear her heart reverberate round the cafe. ‘The solution is to keep my number so that you can ring me at any time should and, I repeat, should, you change your mind. And,’ he turned his head thoughtfully, ‘I wondered too if I could keep your number in return just so that you are contactable. My reasoning is, to keep some line of communication going.’

‘But,’ Lizzie interjected. ‘I’ve already said…’

‘Yes, I understand believe me,’ he said patiently. ‘I want you to trust me. Yes, I believe that both of you need a cooling off period but…perhaps more importantly, it’s not unreasonable to propose that at some future date, I may need to contact you, you being the next of kin and vice-versa. What if something happened to you? Who would be contacted with regard to your son?’ Lizzie was about to argue that her close friend Sophie would cope with all that but he was right. It was more a question of practicality. If anything happened, either to her or her mother, Cal’s suggestion was, she figured, unnervingly sensible. She couldn’t believe she was giving in to this man so readily.

‘Right, this has to be conditional,’ she demanded, ‘If you keep my number, you have to promise me two things. I don’t want my son’s existence disclosed to my mother, or anyone in England, I would hate for her to find out from someone else and, secondly, my number must be kept hidden from her. I don’t want her ringing me.’

Cal nodded. ‘Like I said, you can trust me. I will let her know you are ok and that will be all. Knowing how upset she was it will just put her mind at rest.’

‘But don’t tell her you spoke to me. She will just keep on at you to tell her more. That’s what she’s like.’ Desperation sounded in Lizzie’s plea.

‘Look I’ll just tell her I ran into you in Aix-en-Provence. I won’t reveal a thing, I promise.’ With that he put his hand on hers, which nearly made Lizzie collapse. Again it sent her heart bouncing off the walls but she fought hard to stay in the moment. To read his eyes and know whether she should trust him. She had absolutely no reason to.

‘Your secret is safe! Ok? What will I gain from telling her now?’ he asked. ‘It would be far better coming from you when you two decide to speak to one another.’

Lizzie searched his face for a final reassurance then glanced over at the ogling eyes of Anton at the bar. Fuck she thought. Who do you trust? It’s all too late now anyway.

‘Don’t worry,’ he continued, standing close, ‘Just call me if you have a change of heart.’ As she stood, his arm rested around her shoulder and squeezed it, offering that final nudge of reassurance and comfort so needed.

Weirdly enough as she walked back to her apartment, she began to feel she could trust this stranger. Why? She didn’t know. She hardly knew him. She also had every reason to imagine that he had been sent by her mother or perhaps he even had motives relating to the vineyard. Her mind then flipped, had she done the right thing? Panic and doubt were now creeping in. Had she taken the right action? What she did know, and couldn’t explain, was the extraordinary attraction she had towards him. Not that she invited it. It was just there. Perhaps that was why she trusted him. Perhaps he had the same effect on her mother. Maybe his art was persuasion. His flawless looks and charisma would charm Marilyn Munroe out of her grave! Could it be he set every woman tingling in his presence? And, Anton, how on earth was she going to get rid of him?

Chapter 4

For most of the journey Cal hadn’t been able to get Lizzie out of his mind and now sitting in a car in Jez’s vineyard on this glorious spring day was almost equally distracting.

‘Lucky man is Jez,’ Cal remarked to his friend Charles as he enviously observed the scene before him. Charles skillfully maneuvered the four-wheel drive around winding hairpins up into rolling Provencal hills clothed in rows of lush vines sucking up the sun’s energy from a Mediterranean blue sky – it was truly a ready-made canvas. Very much, he thought, like Lizzie. Only she was a beauty and a beast all rolled into one. A dichotomy which he considered challenging and, at the same time, endearing. Much like raising vines, she was a vision to behold and admire but so delicate and vulnerable that he believed she would be worth every effort because the rewards could be exponential. The fact that he so adored her beauty but also abhorred her brutality towards her mother gave him a new raison d’être – to discover her complexities and the scars within. Was he smitten he asked himself?

Charles Pitt-Barker turned the Range Rover onto a wide sweeping entrance adorned with a sign “Domain de Shires” in black with ruby-gold letters.

‘Bloody Brits. Have to turn to tack,’ he said, observing Jez’s choice of name and navigating the stones to what was now a long, snaking dirt track. His passenger however was preoccupied gazing out with awe and drew breath at the sight. The sun shimmered on the trellised vines stretching across the landscape. Almost-pink soil radiated heat to warm and sweeten the masses of leaves and abundance of fruit whilst thick hedges offered shelter from the winds and tall cypress trees graced the rolling hills beyond.

‘Wow, the leaves on the vines have thickened since I was here a few weeks back. Jez is gonna want some help pruning that lot.’

‘Hence the invite then?’ Charles mocked, his head nodding from side to side.

‘Oh you know Jez! Any excuse for a piss up.’

‘Oh, it’s fine for a day,’ Charles scratched his head, ‘rather be on the sea though, me.’

‘Yeah, I know Charlie-boy but – hey – you can’t beat good wine and good company in exchange for a few hours’ work– beats being in the office! And look at this view.’

‘Bloody right,’ Charles, who spent his long days practicing French family law grinned. ‘Is Jez still seeing that designer girl, Anna what’s her name?’