Vintage (47 page)

“That has nothing to do with it. It’s not up to us to decide whether or not Dougal’s heirs
deserve
their inheritance, Hilarian—though I have to say that his son, Damien, is very interested indeed in making wine. He’d be delighted to take Froggy Bottom on.”

“Now that it’s properly up and running, I’m sure he would. Now that Guy and Kelly have done all the hard work and it’s a viable prospect rather than an enormous money pit. I can’t help thinking he’s been waiting for exactly this moment.”

“At the end of the day it’s a simple matter of the law,” said Reginald. “The trust refers to a vintage made by Dougal’s
child.
If Kelly Elson is not Dougal’s child then the vineyard cannot be transferred to her. She isn’t mentioned by name.”

“I’m going to hire the best lawyer in the land to make sure Kelly keeps Froggy Bottom.”

“That’s up to you,” said Reginald. “The trust will not
be able to release any money in that regard, of course. It’ll have to come out of your own pocket.”

“Then it shall.”

“Hilarian,” Georgina sighed. “I really don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about the little trollop. If you ask me, she’s pulled the wool over your eyes for much too long. Do you seriously think she cares about that vineyard? The second she gets her hands on the deed to Froggy Bottom, she’ll sell it and use all the money to buy drugs. I know her type. I see them in front of me at the Magistrates’ Court every day of the week. Shoplifters, drunk drivers, glue sniffers. They come back again and again. They can’t help themselves. You can’t change the essential nature of someone from that kind of stock.”

“You met her only the one time,” Hilarian spat. “And so you wouldn’t know how much she’s changed already. Besides which, she’s from the exact same stock as those other bloody idiots you seem to revere so highly.”

“Hilarian,” said Reginald sharply. “Miss Nuttall and I do not need to listen to that kind of language.”

“Then listen to this.” Hilarian pulled himself up to his full height. “Kelly
is
Dougal’s daughter and had he had the chance to properly meet her before he died, I’m sure he would have left her
every
penny he had. She’s a good girl. She’s bright, she’s hardworking, she’s kind. She has proven herself to be dedicated to the future of Dougal’s vineyard. Whatever you and his loser offspring try to do to her by trawling through Dougal’s will, looking to rob her of Froggy Bottom with your sneaky semantics, she has already inherited Dougal’s passion and talent for wine. I know that Dougal would have been delighted to call Kelly Elson his heir. If she were my daughter, I would feel very proud indeed.”

Georgina and Reginald shared a look. Reginald gave Hilarian a slow hand-clap.

“A very pretty speech,” he said. “Come on, Georgina. I want to show you that new print in my office.”

They exited, leaving Hilarian alone in the woodpaneled room.

Hilarian drove straight from Slough to Sussex. He got there just before seven. Kelly and Guy were in the kitchen of the main farmhouse, poring over a diagram of the new vineyard they were planning on a field they had recently leased from the farmer next door.

“Did you get our money?” Kelly asked excitedly. “Look.” She showed Hilarian the diagram. “I’ve finished the diagram. It’s going to be amazing.”

Hilarian shook his head. “I’m afraid we have a little problem with the other trustees.”

He told them the full story. Guy slumped forward onto his folded arms in despair. Kelly tried not to show she was bothered.

“But it’ll be OK, won’t it?” she said when Hilarian had finished. “Because I am Dougal’s daughter. You said I was like him.”

Hilarian nodded sadly.

“You are like him. I’m sure it will be OK,” he said.

“Then we won’t let it worry us. I’ll have the test done as soon as possible and we’ll buy the new rootstock after Christmas. Hilarian, cheer up!” she demanded. “When the test comes back positive, we’ll invite Reginald and Georgina up here and properly show them our plans. We’ll win them over. Especially if we come back from the
Vinifera
show in San Francisco with a medal.”

Guy frowned. “I don’t know if we can afford the tickets,” he said. “If we’re not getting any money this month … ”

“You don’t need to buy tickets,” said Hilarian.
“Vinifera
will cough up. Gerry Paine wants his own Judgment of
Paris. You’re not going to miss that show, Guy. No matter what happens, the wine in this bottle”—he waved the bottle that Georgina had given back—“is your wine. You’ve both worked so hard for this. No one can take that away.”

“Too right,” said Kelly.

But Kelly’s bravado didn’t last. Alone in her bedroom, she sat in front of the mirror and looked at the face reflected there. She picked up the framed photograph of Dougal that stood on her dressing table and peered closely at the man she could barely remember. Did she have his nose? His eyes? His mouth? She couldn’t tell. All Kelly could see was her mother’s chin. Her mother’s hair. Her mother’s frown. And all she could think about was her mother’s unreliability. The dozens of men who had drifted through Marina’s life. Even Kelly herself had defamed her mother as a slut who would sleep with anyone for a packet of fags.

Kelly climbed into bed and pulled the covers right up to her neck.

“Please let me be Dougal’s daughter,” she prayed. The alternative was just too awful. To lose Froggy Bottom would be to lose everything. She didn’t have anywhere to go back to. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in years. If Dougal wasn’t her father then she didn’t know who was. She had no grandparents. No siblings. No cousins. Her best friend was dead, murdered by someone who had yet to be caught. Froggy Bottom was all she had.

T
he day after Christina’s encounter with Odile, Greg returned to Paris from Frankfurt.

“Did you miss me?” he asked her.

Christina confirmed she had with a nod.

“Did you have an OK time without me?”

“OK,” she said.

“What did you and Odile talk about?”

“Girl stuff,” Christina said breezily. “Tell me about Frankfurt, I’d much rather hear about that.”

As far as Christina was concerned, her moment with Odile was just a slip in reality. It wouldn’t happen again. There was certainly no need for Greg to know about it. Especially if Odile did not take Ronald’s place on the show. On the flight back to Los Angeles, Christina encouraged Greg to look for a young American replacement for the venerable old critic.

“Another guy,” said Christina. “I think the balance works better.”

“Sure. If you really think so,” said Greg.

“I do.”

And so Christina slipped back into happily-not-quite-married-life with Greg as though Paris had never happened. There was plenty to occupy them both with the upcoming holidays. Greg’s parents were flying up to Napa for Christmas. The Villa Bacchante itself was a hive of activity as the staff tried to fulfill last-minute orders for Christmas fizz.

Christina was at the beauty salon, having her fingernails painted a poinsettia red, when her lawyer called.

“Todd.” She smiled into the phone. “I got your gift basket this morning. Thank you so much. It’s beautiful. I was about to call and wish you a happy Christmas.”

“That’s very kind,” said Todd.

“So, what are your plans for the holidays? Are you going—?”

“Christina,” Todd interrupted her. “Are you at home? I need to fax something through to you. I’m afraid it’s bad news.”

Christina covered her mouth with her hand as she read the letter from Bill’s lawyer. After the divorce settlement was finalized, she had thought she would never see that dreaded letterhead again.

Having read only halfway through the unexpected and deeply unwelcome missive, Christina called Todd to discuss it.

“He can’t be serious. I mean, he really can’t do what he’s proposing, right?”

She heard Todd draw breath on the other end of the line.

“I have to be honest with you; I have never dealt with anything like this before. I don’t know of anyone who has, but I think there’s a strong possibility that some judge somewhere might consider that your ex-husband has a point.”

“Oh my God.” Christina put her free hand to her face. “Am I going to lose my home?”

It was unbelievable. The letter from Bill’s lawyers said he wanted to renegotiate the divorce settlement. Christina was stunned. At the time of the divorce, Christina’s friends considered that Bill got off lightly. Some of them had suggested that Christina should go back for more. But she
took the villa and a tiny amount of cash and limped away quietly, exhausted from the very public nature of the fight. And now it was Bill who wanted a bigger slice of the pie, because, as the writ said: “We consider that the value of the Villa Bacchante at the time of the divorce was greater than the estimate given by Miss Morgan’s lawyers … ”

If it was decided that the valuation of Villa Bacchante was fraudulent, explained Todd, then Bill could indeed ask for a recount. What’s more, on the basis that the valuation was wrong, Bill was claiming a substantial portion of the wealth Christina had generated since the divorce thanks to the television series about the Villa Bacchante. He wanted a share of the profits from the TV program, from the magazine and from the resulting wine sales.

“But how on earth can he be entitled to anything? He was unfaithful to me!” Christina exclaimed. “He left me. He filed for divorce.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Todd. “Bill is claiming that were it not for him, you would not have had the house in Napa in the first place. Without the house you would not have made the decision to become a winemaker and you would not have an award-winning television series and associated merchandising rights under your belt. He is claiming that your success with this series is due in large part to his hard work in finding you the perfect vineyard in the first place. I’m surprised he doesn’t want credit on the series too,” Todd added in an attempt to inject some levity. It didn’t work.

“But any court in the land would throw a claim like that out, surely? You know what I was like after the split, Todd. Bill almost destroyed me. He didn’t want the villa then. It wasn’t worth anything. He was happy to get rid of it. I made it what it is today. I’ve worked so hard.”

Christina began to cry.

“I know that,” said Todd. “And that’s what we’ll rely on when this goes to court. But I’m afraid I’m ninety-nine percent certain this will go to court. And it’ll be a landmark case. There are a lot of divorcees out there who will be going back for a second bite at the cherry if we don’t win.”

That was no consolation for Christina. Much as she liked Todd, there were times when she wasn’t completely sure that he wouldn’t sell her down the river. She began to wonder if this was something Todd could keep out of court but would choose not to because he thought the resulting case would make his name.

She pulled out the old copy of
Hello!
That article would prove that the villa was a gift and, as such, surely Bill had forfeited all rights to it the moment he handed it over. She faxed the article through to Todd, who came back to her with the unwelcome news that the article did not constitute the evidence they needed.

“Though he may have said that the villa was a gift,” Todd explained, “the original deed was in both your names.”

Trust Bill to give a gift with strings attached.

“It’s ridiculous,” Christina complained to Greg that night. “I divorced him to get him out of my life. Am I going to have to pay for him until he’s dead? Am I going to lose the villa?”

Greg cradled her against his chest.

“Sweetheart, you won’t lose the villa,” he promised. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Because you don’t want to lose the set of your most successful show,” snapped Christina, directing her frustration at Greg now too.

“Because I love you,” said Greg. “That’s the only reason.”

She looked up at him. His eyes softened as he gazed down on her.

“And I love you,” she said, burying her face in his chest again. She meant it too. As she said it, she wished to God she hadn’t betrayed him with Odile. Even if Greg never found out, she knew she’d tainted something wonderful.