Something in the Wine Page 7

  “You remember my granddaughter, Katerina? She is visiting us from her parents’ winery in the Yarra Valley.” Theo beamed. “This is Flynn Levallier from next door.”

  Flynn held out his hand. “Welcome to Margaret River.”

  “Thanks.” Her soft hand was pleasantly warm. “It’s like coming home for me. I spent a lot of time here as a child when Pappou first bought the place.”

  Flynn let go of her hand and looked again at the attractive face framed by the thick dark hair that sat neatly on her shoulders. There was something about her. He glanced at Theo, then a distant memory made him look quickly back at her.

  “You’re the little girl who fell off the pony,” he said.

  She smiled. “Not that little. I was ten.”

  Theo let out a bellowing laugh.

  “I’ve never forgotten scaring that pony with my bike,” Flynn said. “I thought I’d killed you.”

  “Katerina was always falling off something. Such a tomboy.” Theo chuckled.

  Flynn remembered her now. She was about seven years younger than him. A little scrawny kid she’d been. He’d seen her on her visits to her grandparents’ home. Theo had kept a pony for her to ride and she’d been in the drive one day when Flynn had roared past on his bike and frightened the pony. She certainly wasn’t a scrawny little kid anymore.

  “I loved that pony and climbing trees with the boys.” Her smile lit up her face and Flynn liked the way she held her head proudly. “They were the best holidays.”

  “Kat, that’s it. They used to call you Kat,” he said.

  “They still do,” she said.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” One of the presenters called their attention to the front of the room. “We’d like to begin. Please take a seat.”

  Flynn glanced once more towards the door before allowing Theo to usher him to a seat beside Kat. It would be much more enjoyable sitting next to her than Euan anyway.

  * * *

  “Euan, you were right. It’s so beautiful.” Keely stood on the little footbridge over the river, taking in the scene. Trees grew on the banks and bent their branches to meet the gently flowing water, small ducks slid along the surface and butterflies flitted in and out of the shadows. “There’s every shade of green and it looks so tranquil.” She turned to him in excitement. He was watching her, that quizzical smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

  “I’m sorry you had to have your appendix out to get here. Just goes to show every cloud has a silver lining. It would have been bad luck if you missed this on your Western Australian travels.”

  Keely turned back to the vista in front of her, breathed in deeply and held the breath. There was hardly a twinge from her abdomen and she felt relaxed and yet a little excited. She really was on holiday: no timetables, no students, no problems. Slowly she exhaled. It was as if someone had given her permission to let go and at last she was doing it.

  The evening before when Euan had come home he had been preoccupied. She’d pointed out the note Flynn had left and he’d scrunched it up and gone off into the other end of the house for a while. There were tomatoes, eggs and various cheeses in the fridge and she’d made omelettes. Euan had prepared her meals up till then. She’d hoped he liked omelette. It was a small way of saying thank you.

  When he’d returned he was showered and there was no sign of his earlier anger. He was delighted with the omelette and opened a bottle of his wine to go with it. The conversation had turned to her day and she’d quietly mentioned her jewellery. Euan had insisted on seeing it and had become animated when she’d told him of her idea to find new beads and adornments wherever she travelled.

  “There’s a place in the village,” he’d explained. “I’ll take you there tomorrow. River Rainbow it’s called, run by Mary. She’s the most amazing woman. Set up here over thirty years ago. Lucy bought most of her fabrics and bits and pieces there. She and Mary worked on several projects together. I’ve got an idea Mary has one of the rooms in her shop dedicated to beads.”

  So here they were, bright and early, stopped on the edge of Margaret River, or ‘the village’ as Euan called it. The river itself wandered through one end of the town named after it.

  “I have a couple of people to see,” Euan said as they continued on into the town. “Tell Mary you’re with me and she’ll look after you.”

  Even though it was early there were quite a few people in the main street, which was lined on either side with shops, offices and eateries. There were chairs around tables under umbrellas, signs on sandwich boards and fluttering sails; spread among them groups of people strolled in the sunshine.

  “Tourists,” Euan said. “Love them or hate them, they’re our bread and butter these days.”

  He pointed out River Rainbow and managed to find a park down a side street nearby. “How long will you need? I know what Lucy was like once she got into that place. Time just disappeared at Mary’s,” he said. “I’ll probably be an hour and then we can go on to Bunbury and collect your things.”

  Keely’s face lit up. He hadn’t mentioned that when they’d left the house.

  “Great, and an hour’s plenty of time for me. I only want a few things.”

  Euan chuckled and got out of the car. “That’s what Lucy used to say.”

  Keely made her way back towards the main street with a spring in her step at the thought of retrieving her phone and wallet. She only hoped the phone wasn’t broken.

  She passed a weatherboard cottage set back from the road. The front garden had several square wooden tables sheltered by dark green market umbrellas. An old-fashioned sign hung over the fence proclaiming Anna’s Kitchen. There were several people sitting at the tables already.

  It looked inviting but Keely was on a mission. She moved on around the corner to the stone cottage, dwarfed on either side by newer glass and brick buildings. The little verandah was right on the street and strips of fabric in every colour fluttered from the eaves. Fabric on rolls stood on stands either side of the door and two big wicker baskets overflowed with hats and scarves with a sign declaring Hand knits at bargain prices. This was River Rainbow.

  The doorway was low and Keely felt the need to duck her head. A soft chiming sound came from somewhere in the back as she entered. The main room was jammed with more material on bolts and rolls, and old shop mannequins draped in fabric, and the walls were lined with zips, threads, feathers and all sorts of haberdashery items. She stopped to take it all in, captivated by the selection available. Now she understood what Euan had been referring to.

  She moved to the back of the room, dominated by a wide wooden counter surrounded by baskets and boxes overflowing with every kind of sewing accessory. The long wall behind the counter was decorated with handmade cards, scrapbook pages, cross-stitch samplers, patchwork cushions and smocked baby gowns. Here the air was filled with the delicate scent of roses.

  “Won’t be long,” a woman’s voice called from somewhere further back. Keely looked around. There was a door to the right, with a sign beside it declaring Patchwork. The door leading to the back of the shop had a sign that said Paper crafts, buttons, beads and workroom. She stepped through into a room stacked with shelves of coloured card, papers and stickers and came face to face with a large, ruddy-faced woman.

  “Mary?” Keely asked.

  “Good heavens no, love. I’m Peg. I’d make two of Mary. She’s not here this morning. I’m minding the shop. Have you come for the card-making? We’re out in the back room.” The woman jerked a finger over her broad shoulder.

  “No, I’m just looking for beads,” Keely said.

  “Right beside you, love. Do you need any help?”

  Keely turned to see a door to another side room, with a sign announcing Buttons and beads. “No, thanks, I’ll be fine.”

  “Righto, love. You just give me a yell when you’re ready.” Peg turned her large body in the small space and sailed back the way she’d come.

  Keely stepped through the door and stopped.
It was as if she had crossed the threshold into another world. The walls were lined with rows of shelves and each shelf held containers of beads or buttons. Every colour was represented, in all shades and patterns. In the centre of the room was a glass cabinet displaying several pieces of jewellery in various stages of construction. The items were draped over driftwood or sat among shells. Some of the finished pieces were for sale.

  A low whistle escaped Keely’s lips and she smiled. Now she understood Euan’s comment about time disappearing. River Rainbow was a jewellery-maker’s paradise. If the other crafts were as well represented, Mary must have a constant stream of customers beating a path to her door.

  Keely picked up a small wooden bowl and began to work her way along the shelves. In her mind she was already creating a whole new range of jewellery inspired by her temporary home.

  CHAPTER 10

  The dark specks bobbed in the water like corks. Occasionally, two or three would peel off as the sea rose in a giant swell and disgorged a promising wave. Then the specks elongated and turned into surfers, slicing along the waves and riding them in close to the shore.

  Keely watched from the old Volvo, parked on the cliff top. She had no idea which one was Euan. On the way back from Bunbury he’d wanted to show her the beach and promised they’d end the afternoon with a picnic tea. When they’d arrived there on the cliff top he’d deemed the conditions perfect for a quick surf.

  She’d toyed with the idea of following him as he carried his board down the long series of steps. Her phone looked okay but it was flat and her charger was back at the house. Not that it would have done her any good. There was no modern technology in Euan’s car and no way for her to have charged it. A walk along the beach would have been wonderful but the distance, and the thought of the long climb back up, deterred her.

  The earlier outing to town and then the trip to the police station had been enough to remind Keely that she was still not fully recovered. Much to her surprise she’d dozed on the way back from Bunbury, only waking up as they’d pulled in at the cliff top. She smiled now, as she recalled the beautiful assortment of things she’d brought home from the town. Peg had been most helpful. She liked to chat and when she found out Keely had left her paints at home, she had showed off River Rainbow’s range with a flourish.

  Keely had been forced to economise when planning to travel backpacker style. The jewellery kit and sketchbook had fitted. She had planned to add the colour to her travel sketches when she returned home, but now she could complete the sketch of Euan. It just needed the touches of brown, the hints of yellow and the blue of his eyes, so she had succumbed to the lure of the little paint selection. Euan had been right again; every cloud had a silver lining and she’d found some. She was enjoying herself despite her bouts of discomfort.

  Here on the cliff top, the wind off the sea was cold and she was quite happy to sit in the warm car and watch the ever-moving view as the Indian Ocean rolled in from the west. Her sketchpad lay open beside her with the rough outline of the panoramic scene sprawled across the page.

  A thud from behind startled her and she turned to see Euan stripping off his wetsuit, his board perched against the back of the Volvo. Keely packed up her things. She didn’t show her sketches to many people. She’d done a few for family and close friends and they had praised her talent but she knew they were just being kind. These days she kept her pictures to herself. They gave her a private escape and she preferred to keep it that way.

  “That was good.” Euan climbed into the seat beside her, bringing the fresh smell of the sea with him.

  “I’ve never tried surfing.”

  His expression was bright as he turned the car around. “I can give you some lessons.”

  She glanced back over the expanse of water. “Wasn’t a surfer attacked by a shark near here not so long ago?”

  “More chance of being hit by a truck. Have you seen how some people drive?”

  “I’m not very brave. The deep water and big waves scare me.”

  “It’s not like that out there, safe as houses. Watching is much scarier than doing it. Riding a wave is a wonderful feeling.”

  Keely glanced back towards the sea as they drove away. A man appeared at the top of the steps carrying a board under one arm and a crash helmet under the other. She wasn’t totally convinced by Euan’s ‘safe as houses’.

  They drove back through thick bush and took several twists and turns along dirt tracks before Euan stopped the car in a small clearing surrounded by scrubby bush.

  “Wait here while I get your gourmet picnic ready.” He grinned and then ducked away.

  It was cosy in the old car and she was happy to stay nestled in her seat as she watched him come and go, taking things from the back and carrying them to a spot through the bush just out of her vision.

  “Okay, time to get out.” Euan opened her door. “You might want your jacket till the fire gets going.”

  Keely took her coat with her and pulled it on as she followed Euan around a stand of thick bush to a smaller clearing. There was a fire glowing softly in a metal pod on legs. Nearby, he had spread the old blanket beside an esky and a wine cooler with an open bottle nestled inside.

  “Your picnic, mademoiselle.” He bowed low and flung out an arm as she passed.

  Keely laughed. She sat on the blanket and watched as he poured two glasses of wine. Over his shoulder there was a break in the bush and she could see the glow of the setting sun.

  “Here you are.” He passed her a glass. “This is a Levallier Dell Sauvignon Blanc. Our pièce de résistance,” he said with a perfect French accent. “Margaret River is famous for its chardonnay but we also produce a very drinkable sauvignon blanc.”

  She looked from him to the glass in her hand. The wine looked much paler than any other she’d tried. She couldn’t recall ever tasting a sauvignon blanc. What if she didn’t like it?

  “Swirl the wine a couple of times.” He demonstrated. “Then put your nose in the glass while the wine is still swirling and sniff. You can smell the tropical fruits and freshly cut grass.”

  Keely watched him then tried to follow his example but she was a bit too forceful. The liquid swished around and as she moved the glass forward, a splosh of wine went up her nose just as she sniffed. She snorted and coughed all at once, spilling the wine down her hand. Her other hand flew to her mouth and she stared in horror at the remains of the wine in the glass that she had somehow managed to keep upright.

  A low clucking sound broke the silence. Keely looked up. Euan’s face was contorted into a myriad of lines as he tried to hold back the laugh that was escaping in short bursts.

  “I’m sorry…” she stammered.

  “Don’t worry.” He laughed openly now.

  “My mother always says I’m like a bull in a china shop.”

  “Au contraire.”

  She glanced at Euan. A small frown creased his brow. “With apologies to your mother but I think she’s wrong. You are elegant and graceful and very creative. You should focus on the positives, Keely. You’re a very talented young woman.”

  He smiled and his wise eyes twinkled in the firelight. Once again his kindness reminded her of her grandfather. He’d always encouraged her talents. Not that her parents hadn’t but for them her artistic side equalled a skill she could use as a teacher. A respectable position that would one day offer job security, they’d said. Just thinking about it stirred the anxiety inside her. She looked down and dabbed at the spilled wine with the end of her sleeve.

  “Don’t worry about the wine. I get carried away. Just drink and enjoy.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to holidays.”

  Keely echoed his words, watched as he took a sip of his wine then carefully took a sip of what remained of hers. At first there was a tart taste but then a softer fruitier flavour took over. She studied it again then took a bigger sip. It really was very light. She enjoyed the taste.

  Euan was regarding her with interest.

  “It’s
…” She hesitated. “Is it okay to describe a wine as delicious?”

  “Of course, mademoiselle, you are the customer and the customer is always right.”

  She took another small sip. She would have to take it easy. She hadn’t eaten much today and her head was buzzing. “It’s most certainly delicious then.”

  “I hope you like fish.” The fire was low now and he got up to tend the alfoil packages on the wire rack he’d placed over it.

  “I love fish. My dad is a dedicated weekend fisherman. It’s not very often we don’t eat fish of some sort.”

  “I got these from a friend. I prefer to swim with the fishes rather than catch them but I enjoy eating them all the same.”

  “I learned to fish on the Swan with my grandpa.”

  “The childhood holidays?”

  “Yes.” Keely took another sip of her wine and told him about her trips to Perth as a child and about her wonderful grandparents.

  Euan poured more wine and before long he was setting the alfoil parcels on the blanket. They unwrapped them and the fish steamed, releasing a sweet, mouth-watering aroma. He produced crusty bread rolls with butter, wedges of lemon and a fork each.

  The fish was as delicious as the wine. They ate in silence with the soft crackle of the fire as their background. Euan had added more wood to it after he took off the fish and they sat in the glow of the flames. It was a simple meal but tasty and filling.

  Once the fish was all gone, they moved closer to the fire with their wine. He found a log for her – sitting low to the ground was becoming uncomfortable – and then he settled back on the blanket.

  Euan was easy company and Keely told him about her desire to visit the regions of Western Australia that her grandfather had described.

  “I have to admit I haven’t seen much of the country north of Perth. There are some great surfing beaches up there. I’ve visited a few of those,” Euan said. “I came to Australia in the early seventies.”