The Vineyard (5 page)

His presence needed no introduction; it was strikingly apparent and Lizzie gasped for her breath as he approached her. In traditional French style he kissed both her cheeks, giving her a pleasant jolt. The touch of his face on her skin created a feverish blush. Stabilising herself, she grabbed the chair opposite his and sat before she fell. She could feel her heart pounding wildly out of control and whilst wishing she was on a first date with him, she swiftly forced herself to wise up and reminded herself of her mission.

‘Hi, thanks for coming.’ she asserted as her body shook involuntarily. He sat down and the waiter stood by for her order.

‘It’s my pleasure, really,’ he replied. His smile was so captivating that Lizzie forced her attention to the waiter to regain control.

‘What would you like to drink?’ Cal immediately took command.

‘Just a small beer please,’ Lizzie said, suddenly feeling a huge thirst.

Cal ordered in French. The waiter slid off back to the bar. She took a deep breath and was about to compliment Cal on his language ability but then thought better of it. She decided to stick to her plan and looked directly at him to take control.

‘As I said before, I have no intention of revisiting my mother whether she sent you on this quest or not, I really have nothing to say to her.’ She kept her tone as even as she could. ‘We have absolutely nothing in common, and she has no one’s interest in her heart but her own’. Lizzie took another deep breath and was about to speak again when Cal broke in.

‘I want you to know that I don’t wish to come between the two of you and I’m not here to make you do anything or to get involved. You are both adults. I am genuinely here on business and as I am, coincidently, in the area I thought I would try to help you both out. It was just chance that you and I were both in Aix. Caroline or,’ he corrected, ‘your mother, doesn’t know I found you ‘It seems to me then, like you are getting involved, Lizzie said. ‘So tell me, are you just protecting yourself or genuinely wanting to help?’ She felt a fury rise inside her as she hadn’t intended to create conflict. As the waiter put the beer down on the table in front of them, she gulped down a large mouthful from the ice-cooled glass. She had to be careful not to piss him off. After all, she didn’t want him to tell her mother about Thierry.

‘Well I’ll tell you what I have in mind shall I?’ he said with an authority that Lizzie couldn’t quite handle. Her mind was confused. On the one hand she was curious but on the other, she wanted to blank her mother. ‘I don’t think there is any point in trying anything. Like I just said, I now have no desire to see her ever again. I’ve managed without her for the last five years or so – even before then, we never did get on. I’ve never depended on her and certainly don’t intend to now.’

Cal’s eyes lowered down to her wrist and acknowledged the small bead bracelet.

‘And the child?’ he questioned. Lizzie looked up and followed his eyes. Could she trust those hematite gems that melted her so fast? She wondered if he was confirming he knew or if he was asking if the child was hers. ‘He’s a handsome chappy. Is he yours?’ he inquired casually.

Lizzie now felt overwhelmingly protective. ‘Ok! That’s the only reason I’ve come here to see you. I don’t want my mother to know about him. If she is ever to find out that she has a grandchild, then it comes from me.’ Lizzie had to gamble in the hope that she could trust him not to tell her mother. Why? She had no idea – but it was worth trying rather than lying and complicating the matter by telling him Thierry was a friend’s child.

Cal looked surprised. ‘Why ever not?’ he asked. ‘Why would you want to deprive either of them of a possible wonderful relationship?’

‘Well that was what I thought a few days ago. But that’s changed since I saw her as I’ve explained. Call me stubborn if you like, I don’t care. I have no time for that woman and don’t feel she deserves to know my son. That’s the reality. I’m not going into the history.’ Lizzie finished her drink and stood up. ‘I hope you will respect my wishes’.

With her heart pounding, she could only pray she could trust him with the knowledge. She headed for the door.

‘Wait’ he commanded, raising his palm and standing up, then, ushering her to sit again. Lizzie automatically obeyed and found herself perched back in her seat.

‘Sorry I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable…’ he said, but then, a deep voice with a French accent shot between them.

‘Bonjour Lizzie. Are you going to introduce me?’ Immediately she recognized the voice with its jealous tone and she twitched as his petulant icy stare stung her eyes. His familiar expensive cologne hit the air around them as he approached them.

‘Anton, hello, this is Cal, my mother’s err… friend,’ she fumbled for the correct term not knowing whether to introduce him as a boyfriend, fiancé, husband or business associate. Anyway, she didn’t like Anton’s tone and wondered if he was out to make trouble. This was the last thing she wanted right now. She glanced at Cal and waved her hand in Anton’s direction.

‘This is Anton, my ex.’ She cut short any further information. The two men shook hands in that suspicious manner that only men can’t hide. ‘Cal lives in England and is here on business. He’s in the wine trade.’

‘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?’

‘Annatia Wu, yes. Bright, talented and quite a sweet girl actually.’ With those words, Cal’s mind immediately slipped back to his meeting with Lizzie just a short hour ago. She was sweet he was sure, under the bitter coating.

‘Well she’s done well focusing her designs on Jez,’ shot Charlie, laughing at his own schoolboy joke.

‘I wouldn’t tell her that, Charlie-boy. I should warn you she needs a bit of a humour transplant – you know, she’s bit intense. Good to see Jez happy though.’

‘Why do we do this to ourselves?’

‘What’s that?’

‘Women! They take away our humour and spontaneity.’

‘Mmm, they have a habit of getting under our skin I suppose.’ Cal got an image of Lizzie naked getting under his, and swiftly moved the conversation on. ‘Jez could do a lot worse.’

‘God yeah, that Tina he was with for years didn’t deserve him. Cheating little bitch! Glad he got rid of her.’

Cal nodded in agreement but was still distractedly captivated by all the surroundings. The track was winding to an end and Cal’s mouth was figuratively dribbling.

‘Jez has really turned this place around. This is fucking amazing,’ he cried. The Range Rover was now facing the villa and the whole scene would have knocked Cal off his feet – had he been standing. In just a few weeks, much work had been done. ‘He must be the luckiest bastard alive I reckon, inheriting this little gem.’